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+Project Gutenberg's Spanish Highways and Byways, by Katharine Lee Bates
+
+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: Spanish Highways and Byways
+
+Author: Katharine Lee Bates
+
+Release Date: February 4, 2012 [EBook #38767]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPANISH HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+  Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
+  been preserved.  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
+
+  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+
+
+
+
+SPANISH HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS
+
+  [Illustration: SAN SEBASTIAN]
+
+
+
+
+     SPANISH HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS
+
+     BY
+     KATHARINE LEE BATES
+
+     _Author of "American Literature" "The English Religious Drama," etc._
+
+     ILLUSTRATED WITH MANY ENGRAVINGS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
+
+     _Published by_ THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+     _New York MCM_
+
+     LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
+
+
+
+
+     COPYRIGHT, 1900,
+     BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+
+     _Norwood Press_
+     _J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith_
+     _Norwood, Mass., U.S.A._
+
+
+
+
+     Madre Mia
+
+     AQUI TIENES TU LIBRO
+
+
+
+
+Preface
+
+
+A tourist in Spain can hope to understand but little of that strange,
+deep-rooted, and complex life shut away beyond the Pyrenees. This book
+claims to be nothing more than a record of impressions. As such,
+whatever may be its errors, it should at least bear witness to the
+picturesque, poetic charm of the Peninsula and to the graciousness of
+Spanish manners.
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+  Chapter                                                   Page
+
+       I. "The Lazy Spaniard"                                  1
+      II. A Continuous Carnival                               11
+     III. Within the Alhambra                                 27
+      IV. A Function in Granada                               39
+       V. In Sight of the Giralda                             48
+      VI. Passion Week in Seville                             58
+     VII. Traces of the Inquisition                           82
+    VIII. An Andalusian Type                                 102
+      IX. A Bull-fight                                       113
+       X. Gypsies                                            132
+      XI. The Route of the Silver Fleets                     147
+     XII. Murillo's Cherubs                                  162
+    XIII. The Yolk of the Spanish Egg                        183
+     XIV. A Study in Contrasts                               203
+      XV. The Patron Saint of Madrid                         214
+     XVI. The Funeral of Castelar                            233
+    XVII. The Immemorial Fashion                             246
+   XVIII. Corpus Christi in Toledo                           263
+     XIX. The Tercentenary of Velázquez                      283
+      XX. Choral Games of Spanish Children                   297
+     XXI. "O la Señorita!"                                   338
+    XXII. Across the Basque Provinces                        362
+   XXIII. In Old Castile                                     376
+    XXIV. Pilgrims of Saint James                            394
+     XXV. The Building of a Shrine                           409
+    XXVI. The Son of Thunder                                 423
+   XXVII. Vigo and Away                                      439
+
+
+
+
+List of Illustrations
+
+
+     San Sebastian                                _Frontispiece_
+                                                     Facing Page
+     Pasajes                                                   8
+     An Arab Gateway in Burgos                                23
+     Playing at Bull-fight. From painting by Bayeu            30
+     The Mosque of Cordova                                    39
+     The Columbus Monument in Granada                         46
+     The Alhambra. Hall of Justice                            55
+     Filling the Water-jars                                   62
+     Off for the War. From painting by Rubio                  71
+     Looking toward the Darro                                 78
+     A Milkman of Granada                                    101
+     A Roman Well in Ronda                                   112
+     The Giralda                                             131
+     The Passing of the Pageants                             146
+     The Pageant of Gethsemane                               167
+     "Jesus of the Passion"                                  174
+     "Christ of the Seven Words"                             195
+     Maria Santisima                                         210
+     A Spanish Monk. From painting by Zurbarán               215
+     A Seville Street                                        222
+     An Old-fashioned Bull-fight. From painting by Goya      243
+     The Bull-fight of To-day                                258
+     The King of the Gypsies                                 275
+     Gypsy Tenants of an Arab Palace                         290
+     From the Golden Tower down the Guadalquivír             311
+     Cadiz, from the Sea                                     318
+     The Divine Shepherd. From painting by Murillo           339
+     The Royal Palace in Madrid                              354
+     The Royal Family                                        359
+     The Manzanares                                          366
+     A Spanish Cemetery                                      375
+     Toledo                                                  382
+     Toledo Cathedral. Puerta de los Leones                  391
+     St. Paul, the first Hermit. From painting by Ribera     398
+     The Maids of Honor. From painting by Velázquez          407
+     Dancing the Sevillana                                   414
+     Within the Cloister                                     423
+     The Trampler of the Moors                               430
+     Santiago Cathedral. Puerta de la Gloria                 439
+     St. James. From painting by Murillo                     446
+
+
+
+
+SPANISH HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS
+
+
+
+
+Spanish Highways and Byways
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+"THE LAZY SPANIARD"
+
+     "There is a difference between Peter and Peter."--CERVANTES:
+     _Don Quixote_.
+
+
+"Spain is a contradiction," was the parting word of the Rev. William
+H. Gulick, the honored American missionary whose unwearied kindness
+looked after us, during the break in official representation, more
+effectively than a whole diplomatic corps. "Spanish blood is a strange
+_mezcla_, whose elements, Gothic, African, Oriental, are at war among
+themselves. You will find Spaniards tender and cruel, boastful and
+humble, frank and secretive, and all at once. It will be a journey of
+surprises."
+
+We were saying good-by, on February 4, 1899, to sunshiny Biarritz,
+whither Mrs. Gulick's school for Spanish girls had been spirited over
+the border at the outbreak of the war. Here we had found Spanish and
+American flags draped together, Spanish and American friendships
+holding fast, and a gallant little band of American teachers spending
+youth and strength in their patient campaign for conquering the
+Peninsula by a purer idea of truth. Rough Riders may be more
+pictorial, but hardly more heroic.
+
+We were barely through the custom house, in itself the simplest and
+swiftest of operations, before the prophesied train of surprises
+began. One of our preconceived ideas went to wreck at the very outset
+on the industry of the Basque provinces. "The lazy Spaniard" has
+passed into a proverb. The round world knows his portrait--that broad
+_sombrero_, romantic cloak, and tilted cigarette. But the laborious
+Spaniard can no longer be ignored. Even at Biarritz we had to reckon
+with him, for the working population there is scarcely less Spanish
+than French. Everybody understands both languages as spoken, and it is
+a common thing to overhear animated dialogue where the talk is all
+Spanish on the one side and all French on the other. The war set
+streams of Spanish laborers flowing over the mountain bar into French
+territory. Young men fled from conscription, and fathers of families
+came under pressure of hard times. Skilled artisans, as masons and
+carpenters, could make in Biarritz a daily wage of five francs, the
+normal equivalent of five _pesetas_, or a dollar, while only the half
+of this was to be earned on their native side of the Pyrenees. Such,
+too, was the magic of exchange that these five francs, sent home,
+might transform themselves into ten, eight, or seven and a half
+_pesetas_. Even when we entered Spain, after the Paris Commission had
+risen, the rate of exchange was anything but stable, varying not
+merely from day to day, but from hour to hour, a difference of two or
+three per cent often occurring between morning and evening. The
+conditions that bore so heavily on the crafts were crushing the field
+laborers almost to starvation. In point of excessive toil, those
+peasants of northern Spain seemed to us worse off than Mr. Markham's
+"Man with the Hoe," for the rude mattock, centuries out of date, with
+which they break up the ground, involves the utmost bodily exertion.
+And by all that sweat of the brow, they were gaining, on an average,
+ten or twelve cents a day.
+
+No wonder that discontent clouded the land. We met this first at
+Pasajes, on one of the excursions arranged for our pleasure by the
+overflow goodness of that missionary garrison. The busiest of teachers
+had brought us--a young compatriot from a Paris studio and myself--so
+far as San Sebastian, where she lingered long enough to make us
+acquainted with a circle of friends, and, incidentally, with Pasajes.
+This Basque fishing hamlet is perched between hill and sea, with a
+single rough-paved street running the length of the village from the
+Church of St. Peter to the Church of St. John. Nature has not been
+chary of beauty here. The mountain-folded Bay of Pasajes appears at
+first view like an Alpine lake, but the presence of stately Dutch and
+Spanish merchantmen in these sapphire waters makes it evident that
+there must be an outlet to the ocean. Such a rift, in fact, was
+disclosed as the strong-armed old ferry woman rowed us across, a deep
+but narrow passage (hence the name) between sheer walls of rock, whose
+clefts and crannies thrill the most respectable tourist with longings
+to turn smuggler. The village clings with difficulty to its stony
+strip between steep and wave. On one side of that single street, the
+peering stone houses, some still showing faded coats of arms, are half
+embedded in the mountain, and on the other the tide beats perilously
+against the old foundation piles.
+
+Above the uneven roofs, on the precipitous hillside, sleep the dead,
+watched over by Santa Ana from her neglected hermitage. Only once a
+year, on her own feast day, is her gorgeous altar cloth brought forth
+and her tall candles lighted, while the rats, who have been nibbling
+her gilded shoes and comparing the taste of the blues and crimsons in
+her painted robes, skurry into their holes at the unaccustomed sound
+of crowding feet. Pasajes boasts, too, a touch of historical dignity.
+From here Lafayette, gallant young Frenchman that he was, sailed for
+America, and probably then, as now, little Basque girls ran at the
+stranger's side with small hands full of wild flowers, and roguish
+Basque boys hid behind boulders and tried to frighten him by playing
+brigand, with a prodigious waving of thorn-branch guns and booming of
+vocal artillery.
+
+But not the joy of beauty nor the pride of ancient memory takes the
+place of bread. We approached a factory and asked of the workman at
+the entrance, "What do you manufacture here?" "What they manufacture
+in all Spain, nowadays," he answered, "misery." This particular
+misery, however, had the form of tableware, the long rows of simple
+cups and plates and pitchers, in various stages of completion, being
+diversified by jaunty little images of the Basque ball players, whose
+game is famous throughout the Peninsula. We finally succeeded in
+purchasing one of these for fifteen cents, although the village was
+hard put to it to make change for a dollar, and was obliged, with
+grave apologies, to load us down with forty or so big Spanish coppers.
+
+"The lazy Spaniard!" Look at the very children as they romp about San
+Sebastian. This is the most aristocratic summer resort in Spain, the
+Queen Regent having a châlet on that artistic bay called the _Concha_
+or Shell. It is a crescent of shimmering color, so dainty and so
+perfect, with guardian mountains of jasper and a fringe of diamond
+surf, that it is hard to believe it anything but a bit of magical
+jewel-work. It might be a city of fairyland, did not the clamor of
+childish voices continually break all dreamy spells. What energy and
+tireless activity! Up and down the streets, the cleanest streets in
+Spain, twinkle hundreds of little _alpargatas_, brightly embroidered
+canvas shoes with soles of plaited hemp. Spanish families are large,
+although from the ignorance of the mothers and the unsanitary
+condition of the homes, the mortality among the children is extreme.
+Here is a household, for example, where out of seventeen black-eyed
+babies but three have fought their way to maturity. Spanish parents
+are notably affectionate, but, in the poorer classes, at least,
+impatient in their discipline. It is the morning impulse of the busy
+mother, working at disadvantage in her small and crowded rooms, to
+clear them of the juvenile uproar by turning her noisy brood out of
+doors for the day. Surprisingly neat in their dress but often with
+nothing save cabbage in their young stomachs, forth they storm into
+the streets. Here the stranger may stand and watch them by the hour as
+they bow and circle, toss and tumble, dance and race through an
+enchanting variety of games. The most violent seem to please them
+best. Now and then a laughing girl stoops to whisk away the beads of
+perspiration from a little brother's shining face, but in general they
+are too rapt with the excitement of their sports to be aware of
+weariness. Such flashing of eyes and streaming of hair and jubilee of
+songs!
+
+One of their favorite games, for instance, is this: An especially
+active child, by preference a boy, takes the name of _milano_, or
+kite, and throws himself down in some convenient doorway, as if
+asleep. The others form in Indian file, the _madre_, or mother, at the
+head, and the smallest girl, Mariquilla, last in line. The file
+proceeds to sing:--
+
+     "We are going to the garden,
+      Although its wicked warden,
+      Hungry early and late,
+      Is crouching before the gate."
+
+Then ensues a musical dialogue between the mother and Mariquilla:--
+
+     _Mother._       Little Mary in the rear!
+
+     _Little Mary._  What's your bidding, mother dear?
+
+     _Mother._       Tell me how the kite may thrive.
+
+     _Little Mary [after cautiously sidling up to the doorway and
+     inspecting the prone figure there]._
+
+                     He's half dead and half alive.
+
+Then the file chants again:--
+
+                     "We are going to the garden,
+                     Although its wicked warden,
+                     Hungry early and late,
+                     Is crouching before the gate."
+
+     _Mother._       Little Mary in the rear!
+
+     _Little Mary._  What's your bidding, mother dear?
+
+     _Mother._       Of the kite I bid you speak.
+
+     _Little Mary [after a second reconnoissance, which sends her
+     scampering back to her own place]._
+
+                     He whets his claws and whets his beak.
+
+Here the enemy advances, beating a most appalling tattoo:--
+
+     _Kite._         Pum, pum! Tat, tat!
+
+     _Mother._       Who is here and what is that?
+
+     _Kite._         'Tis the kite.
+
+     _Mother._                 What seeks the kite?
+
+     _Kite._         Human flesh! A bite, a bite!
+
+     _Mother._       You must catch before you dine.
+                     Children, children, keep the line!
+
+And with this the dauntless parent, abandoning song for action, darts
+with outspread arms in front of the robber, who bends all his energies
+to reaching and snatching away Little Mary. The entire line, keeping
+rank, curves and twists behind the leader, all intent on protecting
+that poor midget at the end. And when the wild frolic has resulted in
+her capture, and every child is panting with fatigue, they straightway
+resume their original positions and play it all over again. In Seville
+this game takes on a religious variation, the kite becoming the Devil,
+and the _madre_ the angel Michael defending a troop of souls. In Cuba
+we have a hawk pitted against a hen with her brood of chickens.
+
+We stepped into a Protestant Kindergarten one day to see how such
+stirring atoms of humanity might demean themselves in school. Talk of
+little pitchers! Here were some twoscore tiny jugs, bubbling full of
+mischief, with one bright, sympathetic girl of twenty-two keeping a
+finger on every dancing lid. Impossible, of course! But all her week's
+work looked to us impossible. We had known diligent teachers in the
+United States; this "lazy Spaniard," however, not only keeps her
+Kindergarten well in hand from nine to twelve, but instructs the same
+restless mites--so many of them as do not fall into a baby-sleep over
+their desks--in reading and counting from two to four, gives a Spanish
+lesson from six to seven, and struggles with the pathetic ignorance of
+grown men and women in the night school from eight to half-past nine
+or ten.
+
+The Spanish pastor and his wife, also teachers in day school, night
+school, Sunday school, are no less marvels of industry. The
+multiplication table, lustily intoned to the tramp of marching feet,
+called us into a class-room where the older girls were gathered for
+lessons in reading and writing, arithmetic and geography, sewing and
+embroidery. The delicate little lady who presides over this lively
+kingdom may be seen on Sunday, seated at the melodeon, leading the
+chapel music--an exquisite picture of a Spanish señora, with the lace
+mantilla crowning the black hair and gracefully falling to the slender
+shoulders. We had heard her give an address on foreign soil, before an
+audience of a hundred strangers, speaking with an irresistible fervor
+of appeal, and no less charming was she at the head of her own table,
+the soul of vivacious and winsome hospitality.
+
+As for the pastor himself, he carries the administrative burdens of
+church and school, teaches the larger boys morning and afternoon, and
+the men in the evening, preaches once on Thursday and twice on Sunday,
+and slips in between these stated tasks all the innumerable incidental
+duties of a missionary pastorate. And yet this man of many labors is
+not only Spanish, but Philippine. His childhood was passed at Cavite,
+the home of his father, a Spanish officer, who had chosen his bride
+from a native family. The boy was put to school with the friars at
+Manila, where, rather to the disgust of the soldier-father, he formed
+the desire to enter the brotherhood. He was not blind--what students
+are?--to the blemishes of his teachers. He had often stood by with the
+other lads and shouted with laughter to see a group of friars, their
+cassocks well girded up, drive a pig into their shallow pond and stab
+the plunging creature there, that it might be counted "fish" and serve
+them for dinner on Friday. But his faith in the order held firm, and,
+when his novitiate was well advanced, he was sent to Madrid for the
+final ceremonies. Here, by chance, he dropped into a Protestant
+service, and after several years of examination and indecision, chose
+the thorny road.
+
+  [Illustration: PASAJES]
+
+All his wearing occupations do not dull that fine sense of courtesy
+inherent in a Spanish gentleman. The sun itself had hardly risen when
+we departed from San Sebastian, yet we found Don Angel at the station,
+muffled in the inevitable Spanish _capa_, to say good-by once more and
+assure us that, come what might, we had always "a house and a friend
+in Spain." We laid down the local journal, hard reading that it was
+with its denunciations of "the inhuman barbarities of the North
+Americans toward the Filipinos," and ventured to ask for his own view
+of the matter.
+
+"The United States," he answered, speaking modestly and very gently,
+"means well and has, in the main, done well. When I say this in the
+Casino, men get angry and call me a Yankee filibuster. But in truth
+the Philippines are very dear to me and I carry a sad heart. It was
+the protocol that did the mischief. It is not easy for simple
+islanders to understand that words may say one thing and mean another.
+Philippine faith in American promises is broken. And red is a hard
+color to wash out. Yet I still hope that, when the days of slaughter
+are over, peace and life may finally come to my unhappy birthplace
+from your great nation. The Tagalos are not so worthless as Americans
+seem to think, though the climate of the Philippines, like that of
+Andalusia, tempts to indolence. But strong motives make good workers
+everywhere."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+A CONTINUOUS CARNIVAL
+
+     "This periodical explosion of freedom and folly."--BECQUER: _El
+     Carnaval_.
+
+
+Having re-formed our concept of a Spaniard to admit the elements of
+natural vigor and determined diligence, we were surprised again to
+find this tragic nation, whose fresh grief and shame had almost
+deterred us from the indelicacy of intrusion, entering with eager zest
+into the wild fun of Carnival. Sorrow was still fresh for the eighty
+thousand dead in Cuba, the hapless prisoners in the Philippines, the
+wretched _repatriados_ landed, cargo after cargo, at ports where some
+were suffered to perish in the streets. Every household had its tale
+of loss; yet, notwithstanding all the troubles of the time, Spain must
+keep her Carnival. "It is one of the saddest and most disheartening
+features of the situation," said a Spaniard to us. "There is no
+earnestness here, no realization of the national crisis. The
+politicians care for nothing but to enrich themselves, and the people,
+as you see, care for nothing but to divert themselves."
+
+Yet we looked from the madcap crowd to the closed shutters, keeping
+their secrets of heartbreak, and remembered the words of Zorrilla,
+"Where there is one who laughs, there is ever another who weeps in the
+great Carnival of our life."
+
+The parks of San Sebastian were gay with maskers and music, tickling
+brushes and showers of _confetti_, on our last day there, but the
+peculiar feature of the festivity in this Basque city is "the baiting
+of the ox." On that Carnival-Sunday afternoon we found ourselves
+looking down, from a safe balcony, upon the old _Plaza de la
+Constitución_, with its arcaded sides. The genuine bull-fights, which
+used to take place here, have now a handsome amphitheatre of their
+own, where, when the summer has brought the court to San Sebastian,
+the choicest Andalusian bulls crimson the sand of the arena. But the
+_Plaza de la Constitución_, mindful of its pristine glory, still
+furnishes what cheap suggestions it can of the terrible play. The
+square below was crowded with men and boys, and even some hoydenish
+girls, many in fantastic masks and gaudy dominos, while the tiers of
+balconies were thronged with eager spectators. A strange and savage
+peal of music announced that "the bull" was coming. That music was
+enough to make the hereditary barbarian beat in any heart, but "the
+bull"! At the further corner of the _plaza_, pulled by a long rope and
+driven by a yelling rabble, came in, at a clumsy gallop, an astonished
+and scandalized old ox. Never did living creature bear a meeker and
+less resentful temper.
+
+At first, beaten and pricked by his tormentors, he tore blindly round
+and round the _plaza_, the long rope by which he was held dragging
+behind him, and sometimes, as he wheeled about, tripping up and
+overturning a bunch of the merrymakers. This was a joy to the
+balconies, but did not often happen, as the people below showed a
+marvellous dexterity in skipping over the rope just in time to escape
+its swinging blow. Sometimes the poor, stupid beast entangled his own
+legs, and that, too, was a source of noisy glee. But, on the whole,
+he was a disappointing and inglorious ox. He caused no serious
+accident. Nothing could ruffle his disposition. The scarlet cloaks
+waved in his eyes he regarded with courteous interest; he wore only a
+look of grieved surprise when he was slapped across the face with red
+and yellow banners; tweaks of the tail he endured like a Socrates, but
+now and then a cruel prod from a sharp stick would make him lower his
+horns and rush, for an instant, upon the nearest offender. The
+balconies would shout with the hope of something vicious and violent
+at last, but the mobile crowd beneath would close in between the ox
+and his assailant, a hundred fresh insults would divert his attention,
+and indeed, his own impulses of wrath were of the shortest. To the end
+he was hardly an angry ox--only a puzzled, baffled, weary old creature
+who could not make out, for the life of him, into what sort of red and
+yellow pasture and among what kind of buzzing hornets his unlucky
+hoofs had strayed.
+
+Finally he gave the enigma up and stood wrapped in a brown study among
+his emboldened enemies, who clung to his horns and tail, tossed
+children upon his back, tickled his nostrils with their hat brims, and
+showered him with indignities. The balconies joined in hooting him out
+of the _plaza_, but he was so pleased to go that I doubt if human
+scorn of his beastly gentleness really interfered with his appetite
+for supper. He trotted away to that rude clang of music, the babies
+who were dancing to it on their nurses' arms not more harmless than
+he. And although that worrying half hour may have told upon his
+nerves, and his legs may have ached for the unaccustomed exercise, no
+blood was to be seen upon him. It was all a rough-and-tumble romp,
+nothing worse, but the balconies would have liked it better had it
+been flavored with a broken leg or two. A few sprawlings over the rope
+really amounted to so little. But the _toro de fuego_ was to come
+there Tuesday evening, and when this blazing pasteboard bull, with
+fireworks spluttering all over him from horns to tail, is dragged
+about among the throng, there is always a fine chance of explosions,
+burnings, and even of blindings for life.
+
+But Carnival Tuesday found us no longer in sunny San Sebastian. We
+were shivering over a _brasero_ in storied Burgos, a city chill as if
+with the very breath of the past. And the Spanish _brasero_, a great
+brass pan holding a pudding of ashes, plummed with sparks, under a
+wire screen, is the coldest comfort, the most hypocritical heater,
+that has yet come my way.
+
+Our Monday had been spent in a marvellous journey through the
+Pyrenees, whose rugged sublimities were bathed in the very blue of
+Velázquez, a cold, clear, glorious blue expanding all the soul. These
+are haunted mountains, with wild legends of lonely castles, where
+fierce old chieftains, beaten back by the Franks, shut themselves in
+with their treasure and died like wounded lions in their lairs. We
+passed fallen towers from whose summits mediæval heralds had trumpeted
+the signal for war, ruined convents whence the sound of woman's
+chanting was wont to startle the wolves of the forest, mysterious
+lakes deep in whose waters are said to shine golden crowns set with
+nine precious pearls--those ducal coronets that Rome bestowed upon her
+vassals--craggy paths once trod by pilgrims, hermits, jugglers,
+minstrels, and knights-errant, and shadowy pine groves where, when
+the wind is high, the shepherds still hear the weeping ghost of the
+cruel princess, whose beauty and disdain slew dozens of men a day
+until her love was won and scorned, so that she died of longing.
+
+We had reached Burgos at dusk and, without pausing for rest or food,
+had sallied out for our first awe-stricken gaze up at the far-famed
+cathedral towers, then had ignominiously lost our way over and over in
+the narrow, crooked streets and been finally marched back to our hotel
+by a compassionate, though contemptuous, policeman. My artist comrade
+was fairly ill by morning with a heavy cold, but she would not hear of
+missing the cathedral and sneezed three or four enraptured hours away
+in its chill magnificence. As we came to know Spanish and Spaniards
+better, they would exclaim "_Jesús, Maria y José!_" when we sneezed,
+that the evil spirit given to tickling noses might take flight; but
+the Burgos sacristan was too keen to waste these amenities on
+stammering heretics. What we thought of the cathedral is little to the
+purpose of this chapter. In a word, however, we thought nothing at
+all; we only felt. It was our first introduction to one of the monster
+churches of Spain, and its very greatness, the terrible weight of all
+that antiquity, sanctity, and beauty, crushed our understanding. Like
+sleepwalkers we followed our guide down the frozen length of nave and
+aisles and cloisters; we went the round of the fifteen chapels,
+splendid presence-chambers where the dead keep sculptured state; we
+looked, as we were bidden, on the worm-eaten treasure-chest of the
+Cid, on the clock whose life-sized tenant, Papa-Moscas, used to scream
+the hours to the embarrassment of long-winded pulpiteers, on the
+cathedral's crown of fretted spires whose marvellous tracery was
+chiselled by the angels, and on the "Most Holy Christ of Burgos," the
+crucified image that bleeds every Friday.
+
+Fulfilled with amazement, we searched our way back to the hotel
+through the sleety rain, ate a shivering luncheon at the "_mesa
+redonda_," that "round table" which is never round, and agreed to
+postpone our anticipated visits to the haunts of the Cid until a less
+inclement season. For of course we should come back to Burgos. The
+proud old city seemed to fill all the horizon of thought. How had we
+lived so long without it? That the stormy afternoon was not favorable
+to exploration mattered little. We peeped down from our balconies into
+the ancient streets, half expecting the exiled Cid to come spurring
+up, seeking the welcome which we, like all the craven folk of Burgos,
+must refuse him.
+
+     "With sixty lances in his train my Cid rode up the town,
+     The burghers and their dames from all the windows looking down;
+     And there were tears in every eye, and on each lip one word:
+     'A worthy vassal--would to God he served a worthy lord!'
+     Fain would they shelter him, but none durst yield to his desire.
+     Great was the fear through Burgos town of King Alphonso's ire.
+     Sealed with his royal seal hath come his letter to forbid
+     All men to offer harborage or succor to my Cid.
+     And he that dared to disobey, well did he know the cost--
+     His goods, his eyes, stood forfeited, his soul and body lost.
+     A hard and grievous word was that to men of Christian race;
+     And since they might not greet my Cid, they hid them from his
+         face."
+
+Meanwhile the streets were a living picture-book. Muffled cavaliers,
+with cloaks drawn up and hats drawn down till only the dance of
+coal-black eyes, full of fire and fun, was visible between, saluted
+our balcony with Carnival impertinence. Beggars of both sexes, equally
+wound about with tattered shawls, reached up expectant hands as if we
+were made of Spanish pennies. A funeral procession passed, with the
+pale light of tapers, the chanting of priests, with purple-draped
+coffin, and mourners trooping on foot--men only, for in Spain women
+never accompany their dead either to church or grave. A troop of
+infantry, whose dapper costume outwent itself in the last touch of
+bright green gloves, dazzled by, and then came a miscellany of
+maskers. It was rather a rag-tag show, take it all in all--red devils
+with horns, friars extremely fat, caricatures of English tourists with
+tall hats and perky blue eye-glasses, giants, dwarfs, tumblers, and
+even a sorry Cid mounted on a sorrier Bavieca. But the climax of
+excitement was reached when a novel bull-fight wheeled into view. It
+was a stuffed calf this time, set on wheels and propelled by a merry
+fellow of the tribe of Joseph, if one might judge by his multi-colored
+attire. With white hood, black mask, blue domino, garnet arms, and
+yellow legs, he was as cheery as a bit of rainbow out of that sombre
+sky. All the people in sight hastened to flock about him, policemen
+left their beats, and servant maids their doorways, an itinerant band
+of gypsy girls ceased clashing their tambourines, the blind beggar
+opened his eyes, and the small boys were in ecstasies. For over an
+hour the populace played with that mimic bull in this one spot under
+our windows, good-humored _caballeros_ lending their scarfs and cloaks
+to delighted urchins, who would thrust these stimulating objects into
+the calf's bland face and then run for their lives, while the motley
+Mask trundled his precious image in hot pursuit behind them. We were
+reminded of the scene months after by an old painting in the Escorial,
+depicting an almost identical performance. Spain is not a land of
+change.
+
+But that teeth-chattering cold, "_un frio de todos los demonios_,"
+eased our farewells to Burgos, and night found us dividing the
+privileges of a second-class carriage with two black-bearded
+Castilians, who slept foot to foot along the leather-cushioned seat on
+the one side, while we copied their example on the other. I started
+from my first doze at some hubbub of arrival to ask drowsily, "Is this
+Madrid?" "Be at peace, señora!" cooed one of these sable-headed
+neighbors, in that tone of humorous indulgence characteristic of the
+dons when addressing women and children. "It is twelve hours yet to
+Madrid. Slumber on with tranquil heart." So we lay like warriors
+taking our rest, with our travelling rugs, in lieu of martial cloaks,
+about us, until the east began to glow with rose and fire, revealing a
+bleak extent of treeless, tawny steppe.
+
+We had only a few days to give to "the crowned city" then, but those
+sufficed for business, for a first acquaintance with the _Puerta del
+Sol_ and its radiating avenues, a first joy in the peerless _Museo del
+Prado_, and a brilliant glimpse of Carnival. We found the great drive
+of the _Prado_, on Ash Wednesday afternoon, reserved for carriages and
+maskers. Stages were erected along one side of the way, and on the
+other the park was closely set with chairs. Stages and chairs were
+filled with a well-clad, joyous multitude, diverted awhile from their
+pretty labors of shooting roses and showering _confetti_ by the
+fascinating panorama before their eyes. The privileged landaus that
+held the middle of the road were laden with the loveliest women of
+Castile. Carriages, horses, and coachmen were all adorned, but these
+showy equipages only served as setting to the high-bred beauty of the
+occupants. The cream of Madrid society was there. The adults were
+elegantly dressed, but not as masqueraders. The children in the
+carriages, however, were often costumed in the picturesque habits of
+the provinces--the scarlet cap and striped shawl of the Catalan
+peasant, the open velvet waistcoat, puffed trousers, and blue or red
+sash of the Valencian, the gayly embroidered mantle of the Andalusian
+mountaineer, the cocked hat and tasselled jacket of the gypsy. Moors,
+flower girls, fairies, French lords and ladies of the old régime, even
+court fools with cap and bells, were brightly imaged by these little
+people, to whom the maskers on foot seemed to have left the monopoly
+of beauty. The figures darting among the landaus, in and out of which
+they leaped with confident impudence, were almost invariably
+grotesques--smirking fishwives, staring chimney-sweeps, pucker-mouthed
+babies, and scarecrows of every variety. Political satires are sternly
+forbidden, and among the few national burlesques, we saw nowhere any
+representation of Uncle Sam. He was hardly a subject of the King of
+Nonsense then.
+
+Squeaking and gibbering, the maskers, unrebuked, took all manner of
+saucy liberties. A stately old gentleman rose from his cushion in a
+crested carriage to observe how gallantly a bevy of ladies were
+beating off with a hail of _confetti_ and bonbons an imploring
+cavalier who ran by their wheels, and when he would have resumed his
+seat he found himself dandled on the knees of a grinning Chinaman.
+Sometimes a swarm of maskers would beset a favorite carriage,
+climbing up beside the coachman and snatching his reins, standing on
+the steps and throwing kisses, lying along the back and twitting the
+proudest beauty in the ear or making love to the haughtiest. This
+all-licensed masker, with his monstrous disguise and affected squeal,
+may be a duke or a doorkeeper. Carnival is democracy.
+
+Meanwhile the inevitable small boy, whose Spanish variety is
+exceptionally light of heart and heels, gets his own fun out of the
+occasion by whisking under the ropes into this reserved avenue and
+dodging hither and thither among the vehicles, to the fury of the
+mounted police, whose duty it is to keep the public out. One
+resplendent rider devoted his full energies for nearly an hour to the
+unavailing chase of a nimble little rogue who risked ten of his nine
+lives under coaches and in front of horses' hoofs, but always turned
+up laughing with a finger at the nose.
+
+Yet this jocund day did not set without its tragedy. A hot-tempered
+Madrileño, abroad with his wife, resented the attentions paid her by
+one of the maskers and shot him down. The mortally wounded man was
+found to be a physician of high repute. This was not the only
+misadventure of the afternoon, a lady losing one eye by the blow of a
+flying sugar-plum.
+
+Our next night journey was less fortunate than our first, though it
+should be remembered that our discomforts were partly due to our
+persistency in travelling second-class. The carriage had its full
+complement of passengers, and each of our eight companions brought
+with him an unlawful excess of small luggage. Valises, boxes, bundles,
+sacks, cans, canes, umbrellas wedged us in on every side, while our
+own accumulation of grips, shawl-straps, hold-alls, and sketching kit
+denied us even the relief of indignation. We all sat bolt upright the
+night through in an atmosphere that sickens memory. Not a chink of
+window air would those sensitive _caballeros_ endure, while the smoke
+of their ever puffing cigarettes clouded the compartment with an
+uncanny haze that grew heavier hour by hour. Conversation, which
+seldom flagged, became a violent chorus at those intervals when the
+conductor burst in for another chapter of his serial wrangle with a
+fiery gentleman who refused to pay full fare. Every don in the
+carriage, even to the chubby priest nodding in the coziest corner, had
+an unalterable conviction as to the rights and wrongs of that
+question, and men we had supposed, from their swaying and snoring,
+fast asleep, would leap to their feet when the conductor entered,
+fling out their hands in vehement gestures, and dash into the midst of
+the vociferous dispute. Lazy Spaniards, indeed! We began to wish that
+the Peninsula would cultivate repose of manner. Our tempers were
+sorely shaken, and when, in the pale chill of dawn, we arrived at
+Cordova, sleepless, nauseated, and out of love with humanity, we had
+every prospect of passing a wretched forenoon.
+
+Thus it is I am inclined to believe we lay down under an orange tree
+and dreamed a dream of the "Arabian Nights." Or perhaps it was only
+another freak of the Carnival. At all events, a cup of coffee, and the
+world was changed. Cordova! A midsummer heat, a land of vineyards and
+olive groves, palms and aloes, a white, unearthly city, with narrow,
+silent, deathlike streets, peopled only by drowsy beggars and by
+gliding maskers that seemed more real than this Oriental picture in
+which they moved, high walls with grated, harem-like windows, and an
+occasional glimpse, through some arched doorway, into a
+marble-floored, rose-waving, fountain-playing patio, enchanted and
+mysterious, a dream within a dream. Cordova is more than haunted. It
+is itself a ghost. The court of the Spanish caliphs, at once the Mecca
+and the Athens of the West, a holy city which counted its baths and
+mosques by hundreds, a seat of learning whose universities were
+renowned for mathematics and philosophy, chemistry, astronomy, and
+medicine, and within whose libraries were treasured manuscripts by
+hundreds of thousands, a star of art and poetry, it ever reproaches,
+by this lovely, empty shadow, the Christian barbarism that spurned
+away the Moors.
+
+The insulted Mosque of Cordova well-nigh makes Mohammedans of us all.
+Entering by the studded Door of Pardon into the spacious Court of
+Oranges, with its ancient trees and sparkling quintette of fountains,
+one passes onward under the Arch of Blessings into a marble forest of
+slender, sculptured pillars. The wide world, from Carthage to
+Damascus, from Jerusalem to Ephesus and Rome, was searched for the
+choicest shafts of jasper, breccia, alabaster, porphyry, until one
+thousand four hundred precious columns bore the glory of rose-red
+arches and wonder-roof of gilded and enamelled cedar. More than seven
+thousand hanging lamps of bronze, filled with perfumed oil, flashed
+out the mosaic tints,--golds, greens, violets, vermilions,--of
+ceiling, walls, and pavement. All this shining sanctity culminated in
+the Mihrâb, or Prayer-Niche, an octagonal recess whose shell-shaped
+ceiling is hollowed from a single block of pure white marble. This
+Holy of Holies held the Koran, bound in gold and pearls, around
+which the Faithful were wont to make seven turns upon their knees, an
+act of devotion that has left indisputable grooves in the marble of
+the pavement.
+
+  [Illustration: AN ARAB GATEWAY IN BURGOS]
+
+The Christian conquerors splashed whitewash over the exquisite
+ceiling, hewed down the pillars of the outer aisles to give space for
+a fringe of garish chapels, and even chopped away threescore
+glistening columns in the centre to make room for an incongruous
+Renaissance choir, with an altar of silver gilt and a big pink
+retablo. We could have wandered for endless hours among the strange
+half-lights and colored shadows of that petrified faith of Islam,
+marvelling on the processes of time. It is claimed that the Arab
+mosque rose on the site of a Roman temple, whence Mahomet drove forth
+Janus, to be in his own turn expelled by Christ. The race of those who
+bowed themselves in this gleaming labyrinth has fared ill at Spanish
+hands. Even now a Moor, however courteous and cultured, is refused
+admission to certain Castilian churches, as the Escorial.
+
+How did we ever part from Cordova, from her resplendent, desecrated
+mosque, her stone lanes of streets, her hinted patios, the Moorish
+mills and Roman bridge of her yellow Guadalquivír? It must all have
+been a morning dream, for the early afternoon saw us tucked away in
+another second-class carriage speeding toward Granada.
+
+We were in beautiful Andalusia, _la tierra de Maria Santisima_. The
+green slopes of the Sierra Morena, planted to the top with olive
+groves, watched the beginnings of our journey, and banks of strange,
+sweet flowers, with glimpses of Moorish minarets and groups of
+dark-faced, bright-sashed peasants, looking as if they had just
+stepped down from an artist's easel, beguiled us of all physical
+discomforts save heat and thirst. When the sun was at its sorest, the
+train drew up at a tumble-down station, and we looked eagerly for the
+customary water seller, with his cry of "Water! Fresh water! Water
+cooler than snow!" But it was too warm for this worthy to venture out,
+and our hopes fastened on a picturesque old merchant seated in a shaft
+of cypress shade beside a heap of golden oranges. Those juicy globes
+were a sight to madden all the parched mouths in the train, and
+imploring voices hailed the proprietor from window after window. But
+our venerable hidalgo smoked his cigarette in tranquil ease,
+disdaining the vulgarities of barter. At the very last moment we
+persuaded a ragged boy in the throng of bystanders to fetch us a
+hatful of the fruit. Then the peasant languidly arose, followed the
+lad to our window, named an infinitesimal price, and received his coin
+with the bow of a grandee. He was no hustler in business, this
+Andalusian patriarch, but his dignity was epic and his oranges were
+nectar.
+
+We shall never know whether or not we had an adventure that evening. A
+wild-eyed tatterdemalion swung himself suddenly into our compartment
+and demanded our tickets, but as all the Andalusians looked to our
+unaccustomed view like brigands, we did not discriminate against this
+abrupt individual, but yielded up our strips of pasteboard without
+demur. A swarthy young Moor of Tangier, the only other occupant of the
+carriage, sharply refused to surrender his own until the intruder
+should produce a conductor's badge, whereupon the stranger swore in
+gypsy, or "words to that effect," wrenched open the door and fled,
+like Judas, into the outer dark. The Moor excitedly declared to us
+that our tickets would be called for at the station in Granada, that
+we should have to pay their price to the gate-keeper, and that our
+irregular collector, hiding somewhere along the train, would be
+admitted by that corrupt official to a share in the spoils. Moved by
+our dismay, this son of the desert thrust his head through the window
+at the next stop, and roared so lustily for the conductor and the
+civil guard that, in a twinkling, the robber, if he was a robber,
+popped up in the doorway again, like a Jack-in-the-box, and rudely
+flung us back the tickets. Thereupon our benefactor, if he was a
+benefactor, solemnly charged us never, on the Granada road, to give up
+anything to anybody who wore no gilt on his cap.
+
+More and more the purple mountains were folding us about, until at
+last we arrived at Granada, too tired for a thrill. Mr. Gulick's
+constant care, which had secured us harborage in Madrid, had provided
+welcome here. Content in mere well-being, it was not until the
+following afternoon that tourist enterprise revived within us. Then we
+somewhat recklessly wandered down from the Alhambra hill into the
+heart of the People's Carnival, a second Sunday of festival given over
+to the enjoyment of the lower classes. The grotesque costumes were
+coarser than ever and the fun was rougher. The maskers cracked whips
+at the other promenaders, blew horns, shook rattles, and struck about
+them with painted bladders, but the balconies were bright with the
+bewitching looks of Andalusian beauties, each vying with the rest in
+throwing the many-colored _serpentinas_, curly lengths of paper that
+crisp themselves in gaudy fetters about their captives. A single
+business house in Granada claimed to have sold over a million of
+these, representing a value of some ten thousand dollars, during
+Carnival week. Southern Spain was grumbling bitterly against the
+Government and the war taxes, and in Seville, where a tax is put on
+masks, the Carnival had been given up this year as last; but Granada
+would not be cheated of her frolic. Our study of this closing phase of
+the Carnival was cut short by the recollection that it was, above all,
+the _fiesta_ of pickpockets. Finding ourselves, on the superb _Paseo
+del Salón_, in the midst of a hooting, jostling, half-gypsy mob,
+rained upon with _confetti_, called upon in broken French and English,
+pressed upon by boys and beggars, and happening to catch sight of the
+stately bronze statue of Columbus which the women of Granada had
+recently stoned because, by discovering America, he brought all the
+Cuban troubles upon Spain, we took the hint of the wise navigator's
+eye and decided that we two stray Yankees might be as well off
+somewhere else. "Feet, why do I love you?" say the Spaniards; and so
+said we, suiting the action to the word.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+WITHIN THE ALHAMBRA
+
+     "The Sierra Nevada, an enormous dove which shelters under its
+     most spotless wings Saracen Granada."--ALARCÓN: _Los Seis
+     Velos_.
+
+
+Our surprises were by no means over. We had come to Granada to bask in
+the quintessence of earthly sunshine, and we found bleak rains, dark
+skies, and influenza. The Moorish palace was indeed as wonderful as
+our lifelong dream of it,--arched and columned halls of exquisite
+fretwork, walls of arabesque where flushes and glints of color linger
+yet, ceilings crusted with stalactite figures of tapering caprice, but
+all too chill, even if the guides would cease from troubling, for
+tarrying revery. We tarried, nevertheless, were enraptured, and caught
+cold. We were dwelling in the village on the Alhambra hill, within the
+circuit of the ruined fortress, in a villa kept by descendants of the
+Moors, but the insolent grippe microbe respected neither ancient blood
+nor republican. During the month of our residence, every member of the
+household was brought low in turn, and there were days when even the
+stubborn Yankees retreated to their pillows, lulled by the howling of
+as wild March winds as ever whirled the grasshopper vane on Faneuil
+Hall. From beyond the partition sounded the groans of our
+fever-smitten hostess, and from the kitchen below arose the noise of
+battle between our sturdy host and the rebel spoons and sauce-pans. If
+we could not always swallow his bold experiments in gruel and
+porridge, we could always enjoy the roars of laughter with which that
+merry silversmith plied his unaccustomed labors. It is said that there
+are only three months of the year when Granada is fit to live in, and
+certainly February and March are not of these. But our delighted
+spirits had no thought of surrender to our discomfited bodies. We
+would not go away. It is better to ache in beautiful Granada than to
+be at ease elsewhere.
+
+At the first peep of convalescence, we fled out of doors in search of
+a sunbeam and discovered, again to our surprise, this immemorial
+Alhambra hill as young as springtime. The famous fragments of towers,
+with their dim legends of enchantment, all those tumbled masses of
+time-worn, saffron-lichened masonry, are tragically old, yet the
+tender petals of peach blossoms, drifting through the fragrant air,
+lay pink as baby touches against those hoary piles. We rested beside
+many an ancient ruin overclambered by red rosebuds or by branches
+laden with the fresh gold of oranges, where thrushes practised songs
+of welcome for the nightingales. We were too early for these sweetest
+minstrels of the Alhambra, who, like the Moors of long ago, were
+yearning on the edge of Africa for the Vega of Granada.
+
+One expects, shut in by the crumbling walls of the Alhambra, in shadow
+of the ruddy towers, in sound of the Moslem fountains, to live with
+dreams and visions for one's company, to have no associates less
+dignified than the moonlight cavalcades of shadowy Arabian warriors,
+whom the mountain caverns cast forth at stated seasons to troop once
+more in their remembered ways, or lustrous-eyed, lute-playing
+sultanas, or, at least, a crook-backed, snow-bearded magician, with a
+wallet full of talismans, and footsteps that clink like the gold of
+buried treasure. But here again the eternal fact of youth in the world
+disconcerts all venerable calculations. The Alhambra dances and laughs
+with children--ragamuffins, most of them, but none the less radiant
+with the precious joy of the morning.
+
+They are gentle little people, too. It became well known on the hill
+that we were Americans, yet not a pebble or rude word followed us from
+the groups of unkempt boys among whom we daily passed. Once a mimic
+regiment, with a deafening variety of unmusical instruments and a
+genuine Spanish flag, charged on me roguishly and drew up in battle
+square about their prisoner, but it was only to troll the staple song
+of Spanish adolescence: "I want to be a soldier," and when I had
+munificently rewarded the captain with a copper, the youngsters doffed
+their varied headgear, dipped their banner in martial salute, and
+contentedly re-formed their ranks. It was seldom that we gave money,
+but we usually carried _dulces_ for the little ones, who, even the
+dirtiest, have their own pretty standard of manners.
+
+Some half-dozen _pequeñitos_, not one of whom was clearly out of
+petticoats, were scampering off one day, for instance, their thanks
+duly spoken, and their bits of candy just between hand and mouth, when
+they turned with one accord, as if suddenly aware of an abruptness in
+their leave-taking, and trotted back to bow them low, their tatters of
+cap sweeping the ground, and lisp with all Spanish gravity, "Good
+afternoon, señora." One chubby hidalgo tipped over with the
+profundity of his obeisance, but the others righted him so solemnly
+that the dignity of the ceremonial was unimpaired.
+
+The habit of begging, that plague of tourist resorts, is an incessant
+nuisance on the Alhambra hill. Half-grown girls and young women were
+the most shameless and persistent of our tormentors. Age can be
+discouraged, and babyhood diverted, while the Spanish boy, if his
+importunities are met by smile and jest, will break into a laugh in
+the midst of his most pathetic appeals and let you off till next time.
+
+"A little money for our Blessed Lady's sake, señora. I am starving."
+
+"Wouldn't you rather have a cigarette?"
+
+"And that I would."
+
+"Then you are not starving, little brother. Run away. I have no
+cigarettes."
+
+"But you have money for me, señora."
+
+"No, nor enough for myself, not enough to buy one tile of the
+Alhambra."
+
+"Then may God take care of you!"
+
+"And of you!"
+
+  [Illustration: PLAYING AT BULL-FIGHT]
+
+But the wild-haired, jet-eyed gypsy girl from the Albaicín is
+impervious to mirth and untouched by courtesy. She would not do us the
+honor of believing our word, even when we were telling the truth.
+
+"Five _centimos_ to buy me a scarlet ribbon! Five _centimos_!"
+
+"Not to-day, excuse me. I have no change."
+
+"Hoh! You have change enough. Look in your little brown bag and see."
+
+"I have no change."
+
+"Then give me a _peseta_. Come, now, a whole _peseta_!"
+
+"But why should I give you a _peseta_?"
+
+The girl stares like an angry hawk.
+
+"But why shouldn't you?" Darting away, she hustles together a group of
+toddlers, hardly able to lisp, and drives them on to the attack.
+
+"Beg, Isabelita! Beg of the lady, little Conception! Beg, Alfonsito!
+Beg, beg, beg! Beg five _centimos_, ten _centimos_! Beg a _peseta_ for
+us all!"
+
+And out pop the tiny palms, and the babble of baby voices makes a
+pleading music in the air. It is for such as these that the little
+brown bag has learned to carry _dulces_.
+
+Before the month was over we had, in a slow, grippe-chastened fashion,
+"done our Baedeker." We had our favorite courts and corridors in the
+magical maze of the Moorish palace; we knew the gardens and fountains
+of the _Generalife_, even to that many-centuried cypress beneath whose
+shade the Sultana Zoraya was wont to meet her Abencerrage lover; our
+fortunes had been told in the gypsy caves of the Albaicín; we had
+visited the stately Renaissance cathedral where, in a dim vault, the
+"Catholic Kings," Ferdinand and Isabella, take their royal rest; we
+had made a first acquaintance with the paintings of the fire-tempered
+Granadine, Alonso Cano, and paid our dubious respects to the convent
+of Cartuja, with its over-gorgeous ornament and its horrible pictures
+of Spanish martyrdoms inflicted by that "devil's bride," Elizabeth of
+England. We had explored the parks and streets of the strange old
+city, where we possessed, according to the terms of Spanish
+hospitality, several houses; but better than the clamorous town we
+liked our own wall-girdled height, with its songful wood of English
+elms, planted by the Duke of Wellington, its ever murmuring runlets
+of clear water, its jessamines and myrtles, its Arabian Nights of
+mosque and tower, and its far outlook over what is perhaps the most
+entrancing prospect any hill of earth can show. The sunset often found
+us leaning over the ivied wall beneath the _Torre de la Vela_, that
+bell-tower where the first cross was raised after the Christian
+conquest, gazing forth from our trellised garden-nook on a vast
+panorama of gray city all quaintly set with arch and cupola, of
+sweeping plain with wealth of olive groves, vineyards, orange
+orchards, pomegranates, aloes, and cypresses, bounded by glistening
+ranks of snow-cloaked mountains. From the other side of the Alhambra
+plateau, the fall is sheer to the silver line of the Darro. Across the
+river rises the slope of the Albaicín, once the chosen residence of
+Moorish aristocracy, but now dotted over, amid the thickets of cactus
+and prickly pear, with whitewashed entrances to gypsy caves. Beyond
+all shine the resplendent summits of the great Sierras.
+
+Yet it is strange how homely are many of the memories that spring to
+life in me at the name of the Alhambra,--decorous donkeys, laden with
+water-jars, trooping up the narrow footpath to the old Fountain of
+Tears, herds of goats clinging like flies to the upright precipice, a
+lurking peasant darting out on his wife as she passes with a day's
+earnings hidden in her stocking and holding her close, with laughter
+and coaxing, while he persistently searches her clothing until he
+finds and appropriates that copper hoard, and our own cheery little
+house-drudge washing our linen in a wayside rivulet and singing like a
+bird as she rubs and pounds an unfortunate handkerchief between two
+haphazard stones:--
+
+     "I like to live in Granada,
+       It pleases me so well
+     When I am falling asleep at night
+       To hear the _Vela_ bell."
+
+There is the proud young mother, too, whom we came upon by chance over
+behind the Tower of the Princesses, where her pot of _puchero_ was
+bubbling above a miniature bonfire, while the velvet-eyed baby boy
+sucked his thumb in joyous expectation. She often made us welcome,
+after that, to her home,--a dingy stone kitchen and bedroom,
+unfurnished save for pallet, a few cooking-utensils, a chest or two,
+and, fastened to the wall, a gaudy print of _La Virgen de las
+Angustias_, the venerated _Patrona_ of Granada. But this wretched
+abode, the remains of what may once have been a palace, opened on a
+lordly pleasure-garden with walls inlaid with patterns of rainbow
+tiles, whose broken edges were hidden by rose bushes. There were
+pedestals and even fragments of images in this wild Eden, jets of
+sparkling water and walks of variegated marble. In the course of the
+month, English and Spanish callers climbed the hill to us and
+encompassed us with kindness, but we still maintained our incorrigible
+taste for low society and used to hold informal receptions on sunny
+benches for all the tatterdemalions within sight. Swarthy boys,
+wearied with much loafing, would thriftily lay aside their cigarettes
+to favor us with conversation, asking many questions about America,
+for whose recent action they gallantly declined to hold us
+responsible. "It was not the ladies that made the war," said these
+modern cavaliers of the Alhambra.
+
+Their especial spokesman was a shambling orphan lad of some fifteen
+summers, with shrewd and merry eyes. Nothing pleased him better than
+to give an ornamental hitch to the shabby, bright-colored scarf about
+his thin, brown throat, and proceed to expound the political
+situation.
+
+"You admire the Alhambra? I suppose you have no palaces in America
+because your Government is a republic. That is a very good thing. Our
+Government is the worst possible. All the loss falls on the poor. All
+the gain goes to the rich. But there are few rich in Spain. America is
+the richest country of all the world. When America fought us it was as
+a rich man, fed and clothed, fighting a poor man weak from famine. And
+the rich man took from the poor man all that he had. Spain has nothing
+left--nothing."
+
+"Oh, don't say that! Spain has the Alhambra, and beautiful churches,
+beautiful pictures."
+
+"Can one eat churches and pictures, my lady?"
+
+"And a fertile soil. What country outblooms Andalusia?"
+
+His half-shod foot kicked the battle-trampled earth of the immortal
+hill contemptuously.
+
+"Soil! Yes. All the world has soil. It serves to be buried in."
+
+This budding politician graced us with his company one Sunday
+afternoon, when we went down into Granada to see a religious
+procession. Our Lady of Lourdes, escorted by a distinguished train of
+ecclesiastical and civic dignitaries, with pomp of many shining lights
+and sonorous instruments, with peal of church bells and incongruous
+popping of fireworks, passed through extended ranks of candle-bearing
+worshippers, along thronged streets, where every balcony was hung with
+the national red and yellow, to the Church of Mary Magdalene. There
+the sacred guest was entertained with a concert, and thence conducted,
+with the same processional state, amid the same reverent salutations
+of the multitude, back to her own niche. Our youthful guide showed
+himself so devout on this occasion, kneeling whenever the image, borne
+aloft in a glory of flowers and tapers, passed us, and gazing on every
+feature of the pageant with large-eyed adoration, that we asked him,
+as we climbed the hill again, if he would like to be a priest. But he
+shrugged his shoulders. "There are better Christians in Spain than the
+priests," he answered.
+
+The son of the house, Don Pepe, a young man of five and twenty, who
+usually attended us on any difficult excursion, was also frankly
+outspoken in his disapproval of the clergy. He could hardly hold his
+countenance in passing a Franciscan friar. "There walks the ruin of
+Spain," he muttered once, with bitter accent, turning to scowl after
+the bareheaded, brown-frocked figure so common in Granada streets. We
+had, indeed, our own little grudge against the friars, for they were
+the only men of the city who forced us off the narrow sidewalks out
+into the rough and dirty road. All other Granadines, from dandies to
+gypsies, yielded us the strip of pavement with ready courtesy, but the
+friars, three or four in Indian file, would press on their way like
+graven images and drive us to take refuge among the donkeys.
+
+This escort of ours, formally a Catholic, was no more a lover of State
+than of Church. He was eager to get to work in the world and, finding
+no foothold, charged up his grievance against the Government. He was
+firmly persuaded that Madrid had sold the Santiago and Manila
+victories to Washington for sums of money down,--deep down in
+official pockets. But his talk, however angry, would always end in
+throwing out the hands with a gesture of despair.
+
+"But what use in revolutions? Spain is tired--tired of tumult, tired
+of bloodshed, tired of deceit and disappointment. A new government
+would only mean the old dogs with new collars. We, the people, are
+always the bone to be gnawed bare. What use in anything? Let it go as
+God wills."
+
+The Silvela and Polavieja ministry came in during our stay at Granada,
+and the Liberal and Republican chorus against what was known as the
+Reactionary Government swelled loud. "It means the yoke of the
+Jesuits," growled our burly host. Our Alhambra dream suffered frequent
+jars from these ignoble confusions of to-day. When we were musing
+comfortably on the melancholy fortunes of Boabdil, a cheap newspaper
+would be thrust before our eyes with an editorial headed "Boabdil
+Sagasta." It is always best to do what one must. Since we could not be
+left in peace to the imagination of plumy cavaliers, stars of Moslem
+and Christian chivalry, who sowed this mount so thick with glorious
+memories, we turned our thoughts to the poor soldiers from Cuba,
+especially during the week throughout which they paraded the cities of
+Spain in rag-tag companies under rude flags with the ruder motto:
+"_Hungry Repatriados_." Their appearance was so woful that it became a
+by-word. A child, picking up from a gutter one day a mud-stained,
+dog-eared notebook, cried gleefully, "It's a _repatriado_." There was
+no glamour here, but the courage and sacrifice, the love and anguish,
+held good.
+
+Granada had borne her share in Spain's last war sorrow. So many of her
+sons were drafted for the Antilles that her anger against America
+waxed hot. A few months before our arrival every star-spangled banner
+that could be hunted out in shop or residence was trampled and burned
+in the public squares. The Washington Irving Hotel hastened to take
+down its sign, and even the driver of its omnibus was sternly warned
+by the people to erase those offensive American names from his vehicle
+on pain of seeing it transformed into a chariot of fire. A shot,
+possibly accidental, whistled through the office of the English
+consul, who was given to understand, in more ways than one, that Spain
+made little difference between "the cloaked enemy" and the foe in the
+field. Meanwhile, month after month, the recruits were marched to the
+station, and the City Fathers, who came in all municipal dignity to
+bid the lads godspeed, were so overwhelmed by the weeping of the women
+that they forgot the cream of their speeches.
+
+Among the new tales of Spanish valor told us on the Alhambra hill was
+this:--
+
+When lots were drawn for military service, one blithe young scapegrace
+found in his hand a fortunate high number, but, walking away in fine
+feather over his luck, he met the mother of a friend of his, sobbing
+wildly as she went. Her son had been drafted, and the two hundred
+dollars of redemption money was as far beyond her reach as those
+dazzling crests of the Sierra Nevada are above the lame beggar at the
+Alhambra gate. Then the kindly fellow, troubled by her grief and
+mindful of the fact that, orphan as he was, his own parting would be
+at no such cost of tears, offered to serve in her boy's stead. Her
+passion of gratitude could not let his service go all unrecompensed.
+Poorest of the poor, she went about among her humble friends, lauding
+his deed, until she had collected, _peseta_ by _peseta_, the sum of
+sixteen dollars, which she thrust into his hands to buy comforts for
+the campaign. But another sobbing mother sought him out. He had saved
+her neighbor's son; would he not save hers? Laughing at her logic and
+moved by her faith in him, he answered: "I am only one man, señora. I
+cannot go in place of two. But here are sixteen dollars. If you can
+find a substitute at such a price, the money is yours."
+
+Sixteen dollars is a fortune to hunger and nakedness, and the
+substitute was found. As the year wore on those two mothers did not
+let the city forget its light-hearted hero, and a great assembly
+gathered at the station to honor his return. A remnant of his comrades
+descended from the train, but as for him, they said, he had died in
+Cuba of the fever months before.
+
+His was no poetic death like that of the Abencerrages. Happy
+Abencerrages! They knew the Alhambra in the freshness of her beauty.
+Their last uplifted glances looked upon the most exquisite ceilings in
+the world. Their blood left immortal stains on the marble base of the
+fountain. But this young Spaniard, in his obscure Cuban grave, only
+one out of the eighty thousand, will promptly be forgotten. _No
+importa._ There must be something better than glory for the man who
+does more than his duty.
+
+  [Illustration: THE MOSQUE OF CORDOVA]
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+A FUNCTION IN GRANADA
+
+     "O Love Divine, Celestial Purity,
+       Pity my cries!
+     My soul is prone before a clouded throne.
+       Let thy keen light arise,
+     Pierce this obscurity
+       And free my dream-bound eyes!"
+                                   --_Ganivet's Last Poem._
+
+
+The civilization of Spain, streaked as it is with Oriental barbarisms,
+belated and discouraged as the end of the nineteenth century finds it,
+is still in many respects finer than our own. In everything that
+relates to grace and charm of social intercourse, to the dignified
+expression of reverence, compassion, and acknowledgment, Spain puts us
+to the blush. I was especially touched in Granada by the whole-souled
+sympathy and veneration with which the city rendered public honors to
+one of its sons, Angel Ganivet, who died in the preceding winter, a
+poet hardly thirty.
+
+Although I had glanced over obituary notices of this Spanish writer in
+the Paris papers, I had but a vague idea of his work and life, and
+sought, before the night of the memorial ceremonies, for further
+information. I appealed, first of all, to our table waiter, whose
+keen black eyes instantly turned sad and tender.
+
+"_Pobre! Pobre!_ He threw himself into the river at Riga, in Russia,
+where he was consul. It was at the close of the war. And he such a
+genius! So young! So true a Spaniard! But all Granada will be at the
+theatre. He left his play to Granada, asking that it be seen here
+first of all. I have never read his books, but I have met him in the
+streets, and lifted my hat to him for a wise _caballero_ who cared
+greatly for Spain."
+
+My next appeal was to our kind neighbor, the English consul, who
+assured me laughingly that he, like myself, was vainly ransacking the
+few bookstores of Granada for Ganivet's works.
+
+"The first time I ever heard the name," he added, "was some three or
+four years ago, when I noticed an old gentleman standing often in
+front of my house, and gazing at the British coat-of-arms above my
+door. He told me one day when I drew him into talk that he had a
+nephew, Angel Ganivet, roaming in foreign lands. 'But he does not
+forget his old uncle,' said he. 'I always receive my little pension
+prompt to the day, and so I like to look at the foreign shields about
+the city, and remember my nephew, far away, who remembers me.' That
+was a trifle, of course, but it gave me a kindly feeling for the young
+fellow, and I'm sorry he came to such an end. They found him in the
+river, you know. I dare say it was suicide, and likely enough the
+defeat of Spain had its share in causing his despondency; but nobody
+knows. He was a zealous patriot, I understand, and all Granada seems
+to take his death to heart."
+
+My next authority was an aged Granadine, a man of letters; but he had
+not read Ganivet's books.
+
+"I have heard of him often," he said, "but I never met him. He was not
+much in Granada, although he seems to have had a romantic affection
+for the place. _Bueno!_ Its pomegranates are worth remembering. But
+Ganivet liked to live in foreign countries, with the idea of
+understanding his own better by comparison. He was young; he still had
+hopes for Spain. Eighty years are on my head, and I have long done
+with hoping. I have served in my country's armies, I have served in
+her Government, I have seen much of Church and State, and since the
+night when they murdered General Prim I have seen nothing good. But
+Ganivet had faith in the national future, and the people, without
+waiting to ask on what that faith was founded, love him for it, and
+mourn his loss as if he had been their benefactor. They are all going
+to pour into the theatre to-morrow night to hear his symbolic drama,
+that not one in a hundred of them will try to understand, and the
+hundredth will get it all wrong."
+
+The "function" took place in the _Gran Teatro de Isabel la Católica_,
+a name to conjure with throughout all Spain, and especially in
+Granada. The day set for the performance, and widely advertised by
+newspapers and posters for a month in advance, was a Wednesday. On
+Tuesday, in a fever lest we be too late, we arrived at the ticket
+office. We had our hurry all to ourselves. Apparently nobody else had
+as yet taken a seat. The office was empty, save for us and our
+attendant train of boys and beggars.
+
+The official in charge, deaf, slow, and courteous, invited us into a
+private room and gave us rocking-chairs by the _brasero_, while he,
+with paper and pencil, laboriously added the price of our _entradas_
+to the price of our modest box, and spent five minutes in subtracting
+the amount from the figure of the small bill we handed him. The
+counting out of the change was another strain on his arithmetic, and,
+after all these toils, we were still without tickets. He said he would
+"write them out at home," and we might send some one for them the next
+day. But he affably offered to show us the theatre, and led us through
+black passages to a great dusky space, where, while he struck match
+after match, we could catch glimpses of pit and balconies, and even a
+far-off stage, with a group of actors gathered about a lamp,
+rehearsing the play. In Wednesday morning's paper, however, they
+announced with entire nonchalance that they were not ready yet, and
+would postpone the representation until Thursday.
+
+On Thursday evening the theatre, choking full though it was, hardly
+presented a brilliant appearance. Granada is not Madrid, nor Seville,
+and the best the Granadines had to offer their dead poet was the
+tribute of their presence in such guise as they could command. The
+big, barnlike theatre, with its rows of broken lamp-chimneys, looked
+shabby, and the rag-tag proportion of the audience was so great that
+it overflowed the _Paraiso_ into the aisles and doorways and all
+conceivable corners. People were so jumbled and crumpled together
+that, with reminiscences of my traveller's hold-all, I found myself
+wondering if they would ever shake out smooth again.
+
+Whole families were there, from the infant in arms that invariably
+screamed when the actors were reciting any passage of peculiar
+delicacy, to the dozing old grandfather, who kept dropping his
+cigarette out of his mouth in a way that threatened to set us all on
+fire. The gentlemen, even in the boxes and the stalls, were generally
+ungloved, and we did not see a dress suit in the house. Cloaks and
+neckties were ablaze with color as usual, but the masculine toilets
+eluded our stricter observation; for when the curtain was up, our eyes
+were all for the stage, and between acts your Spaniard sits with hat
+on head, enveloped in a cloud of tobacco smoke.
+
+But the Andalusian ladies made amends for everything. By some
+prehistoric agreement, Spanish women have yielded the rainbow to the
+men, reserving for their own attire the quiet elegance of black or the
+festive beauty of pure white. The dress that evening, even in the
+principal boxes, was conspicuously simple. But the clear brunette
+complexions, the delicate contours, the rich black hair worn high and
+crowned with natural flowers, the waving fans and flashing glances,
+cast a glamour over the whole scene.
+
+The memorial rites themselves made up in quantity whatever they might
+lack in quality, continuing from eight o'clock till two. An orchestra,
+organized from Granada musicians for this occasion, opened the
+programme. The bust of Ganivet, wrought by a young Granada sculptor,
+was reverently unveiled. The star actor, Fuentes of Granada, who had
+undertaken with his troupe to present his fellow-townsman's drama
+purely as a labor of love, read an interpretation written by one of
+Granada's leading critics. The orchestra was in evidence again,
+introducing the first act, entitled "Faith." After this the orchestra
+played Bretón's serenade, "In the Alhambra," and the curtain rose for
+the second act on so natural a scene-painting of the famous fortress
+that the audience went wild with enthusiasm, and the blushing artist,
+also a Granadine, had to be literally shoved from the wings upon the
+stage to receive his plaudits.
+
+Between the second act, "Love," and the last act, "Death," came an
+_andante elegiaco_, "written expressly for this artistic solemnity" by
+a Granada composer. Here, again, the appreciation of the audience was
+unbounded, and nothing would do but the reluctant master must leave
+his box, struggle through the packed multitude to the conductor's
+stand, and take the baton himself for a second rendering from the
+first chord to the last. At the close of the third act the orchestra
+did its part once more, and the celebration ended, somewhat
+incongruously, with a lively bit of modern comedy.
+
+There was imperfection enough, had one been disposed to look for it.
+The fifty members of the impromptu orchestra had hardly brought
+themselves into accord, the acting was not of the best Spanish
+quality, and the players had not half learned their parts. Every long
+declamation was a duet, the prompter's rapid undertone charging along
+beneath the actor's voice like a horse beneath its rider. But the
+audience understood, forgave, were grateful, and sat with sublime
+patience through the long pauses between the acts, repeating one to
+another, "They say Fuentes is studying his speeches." As the caustic
+old scholar had predicted, most of them, apparently, did not try to
+understand the allegory. They applauded the obviously poetic touches,
+the palpably dramatic situations, and when, in the Alhambra act, a
+gypsy air was sung, the galleries delightedly caught it up and
+chorused it over again.
+
+But in general that nondescript assembly looked on in passive gravity
+while _El Escultor de su Alma_ was rendered, as their poet had
+bidden, in their own theatre and for them. They may have gathered
+hints and snatches of that mystical message from the dead, whose lofty
+look, fixed in shining marble, dominated all the house.
+
+The restless Spirit of Man, seeking the perfect Truth, tears himself
+loose from the bride of his youth, Heavenly Faith, and wanders in
+beggary through the world. Yet Truth for him can only be the child of
+his union with Faith, and in parting from one he has parted from both.
+In old age, almost maddened by his wanderings and woes, he meets his
+Truth again, full-grown and beautiful, but is so fierce and wild in
+his desire to possess her that only Death can reconcile them--Death
+and that Heavenly Faith who could not abandon him, though he had
+forsaken her.
+
+Ganivet's mother, who, with his brothers, witnessed the play from
+behind the scenes, is said to have rejoiced in it as a last solemn
+assurance from her son of his secure repose in the Catholic faith of
+his fathers. It may not have meant so much to that great audience,
+many of whom could neither read nor write, but those tiers upon tiers
+of dark Spanish faces were full of earnestness and of a proud content.
+However it may have baffled their heads, this legacy of a play, in its
+Alhambra setting, spoke clearly to their hearts. One ragamuffin said
+to another, as an all-sufficient criticism, "He was thinking of
+Granada when he wrote it."
+
+A few days later, I found and eagerly read Angel Ganivet's most
+significant booklet, _Idearium_, published in the autumn of 1896, in
+which he sets forth his dream for the future of his beloved country.
+
+Ganivet claims that the deepest moral element in Spanish character is
+stoicism, "not the brutal and heroic stoicism of Cato, nor the serene
+and majestic stoicism of Marcus Aurelius, nor the rigid and extreme
+stoicism of Epictetus, but the natural and humane stoicism of Seneca."
+He holds that Seneca, himself a Spaniard, found his philosophy in the
+inherent genius of the country, and only gave voice to the indwelling
+soul of Spain. The Spanish church, cherishing this element, became a
+thing apart from the general Catholicism of Europe. The long warfare
+and incidental intercourse with the Moors stamped Spanish Christianity
+with its two other characteristic features of mysticism and
+fanaticism. "Mysticism was like a sanctification of African
+sensuality, and fanaticism was a turning against ourselves, when the
+Reconquest ended, of the fury accumulated during eight centuries of
+combat."
+
+The author, _muy español_, is naturally _muy católico_, yet he
+protests against violence in the repression of other forms of
+religion. "Liberty should bring with it no fear." He believes that
+Spain is, above all, _sui generis_, independent and individual. The
+representative Spaniard is a free lance, striving and conquering by
+his own impulse and under his own direction, like the Cid of old or
+Cortes in the field of arms, like Loyola in the church, like Cervantes
+in letters. He lays stress on the achievements of Spanish art--the
+master paintings of Velázquez and Murillo, the master dramas of Lope
+de Vega and Calderon, as expressing, better than political history has
+expressed, that intensification of Spanish life resulting from the
+struggle against the Arabs "and making of our nation a Christian
+Greece."
+
+  [Illustration: THE COLUMBUS MONUMENT IN GRANADA]
+
+He finds it logical and right that Spain, after her successive
+periods of Roman influence, Visigothic influence, Arab influence,
+and her modern era of colonial expansion, should now abandon foreign
+policies and concentrate all her vitality within her own borders. Not
+by the sword, but by the spirit, would he have Spain henceforth hold
+sway over mankind, and especially over the Spanish-descended peoples
+of South America.
+
+He winces under the monopoly of the term "American" by the citizens of
+the United States--"a formidable nation," he admits, "very populous,
+very rich, and apparently very well governed." He notes, in contrast,
+the poverty and comparative anarchy of the South American republics,
+but he urges still that the Spanish character, shaped through such
+eventful centuries, is an entity, clear and firm, with qualities well
+defined, whereas the Yankees are yet in the fusing pot. He would have
+all the peoples of Hispanian descent recognize and realize in
+themselves this Spanish individuality, effecting not a political
+union, but a "confederation, intellectual and spiritual," whose first
+aim should be the preservation of Spanish ideas and ideals, and the
+second, the free gift of these to all the nations of the earth.
+
+The ancient glory of Spain, he says, has vanished like a dream; let a
+new and whiter glory dawn. Her career of material conquest is ended.
+Those savage struggles have left her faint and spent. Let her now seek
+to attain, through purification and discipline, such fresh fulness of
+life as shall insure the triumph of her spiritual forces--her fervent
+faith and her unworldly wisdom. "Our Ulysses is Don Quixote."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+IN SIGHT OF THE GIRALDA
+
+     "We were nearing Seville. I felt the eager throbbing of my
+     heart. Seville had ever been for me the symbol of light, the
+     city of love and joy."--VALDÉS: _La Hermana San Sulpicio_.
+
+
+One of the wise sayings of Andalusia runs, "Do not squeeze the orange
+till the juice is bitter." And so we said good-by to Granada before we
+were ready to go, and persuaded ourselves, in defiance of maps and
+time-tables, that our shortest route to Seville led by Ronda. The
+weather did its very best to dampen our enthusiasm for this wildest of
+crag aeries, equally famed for romantic beauty of outlook and
+salubrity of air. Men live long in Ronda, unless, indeed, they hit
+against a bullet while practising their hereditary trade of
+_contrabandista_. They have a saying that octogenarians there are only
+chickens, but one should not believe all that they say in Ronda. Did
+we not clamber, slipping on wet stones, down a precipitous path to
+peer, from under dripping umbrellas, at what our guide declared was an
+old Roman bridge? "It doesn't look old and it doesn't look Roman," was
+the artist's dubious comment, but our highly recommended conductor, a
+Gib, as the English-Spanish natives of Gibraltar Rock are called,
+assured us that it was built in the days of Julius Cæsar, but had been
+wonderfully well preserved. We eyed him thoughtfully, bearing in mind
+that he had already pointed out the statue of a long-dead poet as a
+living politician; but we meekly continued through the lashing rain to
+follow his long footsteps over the breakneck ways of that natural
+fortress where race after race has left its autograph. The Roman
+columns of the church make the Arab cupolas look young, and put the
+Gothic choir altogether out of countenance. A bright-shawled peasant
+woman, who we fondly hoped might be a smuggler's wife, drew us
+delicious water from a Roman well in a Moorish patio, where a mediæval
+king of gentle memory used to drink his wine from cups wrought of the
+skulls of those enemies whom he had beheaded with his own sword. But
+not all this, and more, could efface our doubts of that Roman bridge,
+which, indeed, we found, on a belated perusal of our guide-books, had
+been erected by a Malaga architect in the last century.
+
+The street rabble of Ronda was the rudest and fiercest we encountered
+anywhere in Spain. Several times our guide wheeled suddenly to
+confront some gypsyish lad, creeping up behind us with stone all ready
+to throw, and when, at a glint of sunset through the stormy clouds, we
+tried to slip out unattended to the neighboring _alameda_, with its
+far-sweeping prospect of folded mountain ranges and its vertical view
+of gorge and rushing river, the children actually hounded us back to
+the hotel. Their leader was a scrofulous boy, with one cheek eaten
+away, who had been taught to press his face so closely upon strangers
+that, in fear of his open sore, they would hastily give money to keep
+him back. He was a merry scamp and got a world of sport out of his
+sickening business, laughing at the top of his voice to see himself
+"avoided like the sun."
+
+Although the tempest had lulled by evening, Ronda, still inhospitable,
+would not let us sleep. All up and down the window-grated street
+sounded, from midnight to morning, a tinkling of guitars. It was,
+forsooth, St. Joseph's Day, and every Don José, every Doña Josefa,
+every little Pepe, every pretty Pepita, must be saluted by a serenade.
+All Andalusians are musical, taking much pleasure, moreover, in one of
+their own bits of philosophy, "The poorest player has his uses, for he
+can at least drive the rats out of the house." Rats or no, we left
+Ronda by the morning train.
+
+Our carriage was crowded with several Spaniards and a "Jew-Gib," who,
+without saying "_oxte ni moxte_," assumed full charge of us and our
+belongings for the journey. This unceremonious but really helpful
+escort put every one of his fellow-travellers through a sharp
+catechism as to birthplace, business, destination, and the like. Our
+turn came first of all. "You are English?" "We speak English." "Ha!"
+He fell into our own vernacular. "Came about three thousand miles to
+Spain?" "Across the channel." He chuckled with prompt appreciation of
+the situation and mendaciously translated to the carriage at large,
+"The ladies are distinguished Londoners, on their way to visit
+relatives in Seville," whereat the Andalusians smiled sleepily upon us
+and asked permission to smoke. We consented cheerfully, as our Spanish
+sisters had taught us that we should. "I like it," one pallid señora
+had said on an earlier trip. "It makes me sick, yes, but men ought to
+be men."
+
+We were journeying toward the very palace of the sun, with gray ranks
+of olive trees standing guard on either hand. "And posted among them,
+like white doves, could be seen now and again a few mills where the
+bitter olive is wont to pour its juice." Orange plantations and hedges
+of the bluish aloe, fig trees, palms, and all manner of strange,
+tropical flowers gladdened our approach to Seville. And when, at last,
+we saw from afar the world-praised Giralda, the Moorish bell-tower of
+the cathedral, soaring pink into a purple sky, we felt as if we were
+really arrived in fairyland.
+
+Our friendly Gib put his tall figure between us and the howling press
+of swarthy porters and cab-drivers, scolded, expostulated, threatened,
+picked out his men, beat down their prices, called up a policeman to
+witness the bargain and take the number of our cab, raised his hat,
+and vanished into grateful memory.
+
+Six weeks in Seville! And six weeks in a Seville home, where evening
+after evening the gay youth of Andalusia laughed and sang, danced and
+rattled the castanets, and cast about our wondering Western souls
+strange witcheries from which we shall never more go free. It was all
+as Oriental as a dream. The Sultana of the South lifted her gleaming
+coronet of domes and pinnacles above such a kingdom of idle, delicious
+mirth as has permanently unfitted us for considering it important to
+do our duty. Our hereditary bits of Plymouth Rock were melted up in
+that fervent heat. Right or wrong? "Where there is music, there can be
+no harm." True or false?
+
+     "In this world, my masters,
+       There's neither truth nor lie,
+     But all things take the color
+       Of the glass before the eye."
+
+Only six weeks, and yet we shall ever go homesick for Seville, for her
+palm trees and orange gardens, her narrow streets like lanes of
+shadow, her tiled and statued patios, with caged birds singing answer
+to the ripple of the fountain, the musical midnight cry of her
+_serenos_, "her black and burning eyes like beacons in the dark," her
+sighing serenaders, "lyrical mosquitoes," outside the grated window or
+beneath the balcony, her fragrances of rose and jessamine, her poetic
+sense of values. A homeless Andalusian, dinnerless and in rags, strums
+on his guitar, a necessity which he would not dream of selling for
+such a mere luxury as bread, and is happy. There is always sun to
+sleep in. There are always piquant faces and gliding forms to gaze
+after. What more does a mortal want? Exquisite Seville! No wonder that
+her exiled sons still sing, after years of "comfortable living" in
+foreign cities:--
+
+     "When I am missing, hunt me down
+       In Andalusia's purple light,
+     Where all the beauties are so brown,
+       And all the wits so bright."
+
+Yet the old Arabian enchantment casts a glamour which the Anglo-Saxon
+vision dimly recognizes as such and faintly strives against. To the
+clear survey all is not charm. Grace, mirth, and music, on the one
+hand, are offset by ignorance, suffering, and vice on the other. Many
+evil things were told us, and some ugly things we saw, but to look on
+Andalusia is to love her, even while realizing that to live with her
+would put that love to a very stringent test.
+
+The lordly Guadalquivír, for instance, so fair to see from the
+picture-making summit of the Giralda, as he lingers through his
+blooming Paradise, forgetful of the ocean, is not altogether goodly.
+
+     "Ay, ay, the black and stinging flies he breeds
+     To plague the decent body of mankind!"
+
+The Andalusian leisure was a perpetual delight to us. A typical
+Seville shop reaches far along the street front, with many open doors,
+and a counter running the full length. Here ladies sit in pairs and
+groups, never singly, to cheapen fans and mantillas, while the smiling
+salesmen, cigarette in hand, shrug and gesticulate and give back
+banter for banter as gayly as if it were all a holiday frolic. Scraps
+of the graceful bargaining would float to our ears.
+
+"Is the quality good?"
+
+"As good as God's blessing."
+
+Among the tempting wares of Seville are Albacete knives, with gorgeous
+handles of inlaid ebony, tortoise, or ivory. The peasant women of
+Andalusia so resent the charge of carrying these knives in their
+garters that the Seville gamin dodges offence by asking them in an
+unnecessarily loud voice if they carry garters in their knives. The
+irascible dames do not stand upon fine points of rhetoric, however,
+and when the small boy has delivered his shot, he does well to take to
+his heels. We once saw one of these sturdy women, while a line of
+soldiers, bristling with steel, was holding a street, seize a gallant
+son of Mars by the shoulder and swing him, amid the laughter of his
+comrades, out of her path as if he were a cabbage. Nobody knew how to
+stop her, and she trudged serenely on, her broad back to those
+helpless bayonets, down the forbidden way.
+
+The beggars of Seville are gentler than those of Ronda and Granada,
+but hardly less numerous. Mendicant figures are thick as Guadalquivír
+mosquitoes in my memory of Andalusia. Some of those pitiful children
+will haunt me till I die. There was a forlorn urchin, with filmy,
+frightful eyes, to be seen in all weathers crouching on one side of
+the road leading up to the Alhambra, so dull and dreary a little
+fellow that he hardly grasped the coppers when they were thrust into
+his weakly groping hands, and hardly stayed his monotonous formula of
+entreaty for his other monotonous formula of thanks. There was an
+idiot child in Seville--a mere lump of deformity--that would rush out
+upon the startled stranger with an inarticulate, fierce little yell,
+clutching at charity with a tiny, twisted claw. He seemed the very
+incarnation of childish woe and wrong. Almost every hand dived into
+pocket for him, and he was probably worth far more to his proprietors
+than his rival on the street, a crafty little girl, with the most
+lustrous eyes that painter ever dreamed. They were not blue nor gray,
+but a living light in which both those colors had been melted.
+
+The economists, who say so firmly that "nothing should ever be given
+to mendicant children," can hardly have had the experience of seeing
+Murillo's own cherubs, their wings hidden under the dirt, fluttering
+about the car windows at Andalusian stations. I have it still on my
+conscience that I occasionally gave away my comrade's share of our
+luncheon as well as my own. She was too young and too polite to
+reproach me, but too hungry to be comforted by the assurance that I
+reproached myself. Sometimes a foreign traveller, very sure of his
+Spanish, would attempt remonstrance with these small nuisances. I
+remember one kindly Teuton in particular. Commerce had claimed him for
+its own, but the predestined German professor shone out of his mild
+blue eyes. A ragamuffin had mounted the car steps to beg at the
+window, and Mein Herr delivered him such a lecture that the youngster
+clung to his perch, fascinated with astonishment at the novel
+doctrine, until the train was in alarmingly swift motion.
+
+  [Illustration: THE ALHAMBRA. HALL OF JUSTICE]
+
+"This is a very bad habit of thine. I told thee so a month ago."
+
+"Me, sir?"
+
+"Thee, boy. When I passed over this road last, thou wert begging at
+the windows, to my shame if not to thine. Tut, tut! Go thy ways. Look
+for work, work, work."
+
+"Work, sir?"
+
+"Work, boy. And when thou hast found it, love it, and do it with a
+will. Learn to read and write. Wash thy face and change thy customs,
+and when thou art richer than I, then will I give thee a _peseta_."
+
+Mendicancy is bred of ignorance, and in the seventeen and a half
+millions that make up the population of Spain, more than twelve
+millions do not read nor write.
+
+Seville sight-seeing is no brief matter. You must climb the Giralda,
+walk in the parks, view the yellowed fragments of the ancient city
+wall, visit the tobacco factory, shop in _Las Sierpes_, buy pottery in
+Triana, see the gypsy dances in the cafés, attend the Thursday
+rag-fair, do reverence to the Columbus manuscripts in the _Biblioteca
+Columbina_, look up the haunts of Don Juan, Figaro, Pedro the Cruel,
+and explore the curious "House of Pilate," which, tradition says, was
+built by a pilgrim noble after the Jerusalem pattern. You must lose
+your heart to the Alcázar, the Alhambra of Seville, a storied palace
+embowered in fountain-freshened gardens of palm and magnolia, oranges
+and cypresses, rose and myrtle, with shadowy arcades leading to marble
+baths and arabesqued pavilions. You must follow Murillo from gallery
+to gallery, from church to church, above all, from the _Hospital de la
+Caridad_, where hang six of his greatest compositions, to the _Museo
+Provincial_, where over a score of the Master's sacred works, lovely
+Virgins, longing saints, deep-eyed Christ-Childs, rain their sweet
+influence. And first, last, and always, there is the cathedral. We had
+been stunned at Burgos, blind to all save the Moorish features of
+Cordova, almost untouched by the cold splendors of Granada, but to
+Seville, as later to Toledo, we surrendered utterly. Beauty, mystery,
+sublimity--these are Seville cathedral. Five centuries have gone to
+the rearing and enriching of those solemn aisles and awful choir. The
+colossal structure, second in size only to St. Peter's, is a majesty
+before which Luther himself might well have trembled. Within a Spanish
+cathedral one begins to understand the mighty hold of Roman
+Catholicism on Spain. "I love," says Alarcón, whose jest and earnest
+are as closely twined as fibres of the same heart, "the clouds of
+incense which rise to the cupola of the Catholic temple, amid the
+harmonies of the holy organ. (For this I am not a Protestant.)" And
+elsewhere, writing of his childhood, he speaks of receiving in the
+cathedral of Guadix all his first impressions of artistic
+beauty,--beauty of architecture, music, painting, processional
+splendors, tissue of gold and silver, cunning embroideries and
+jewel-work, his first sense, in short, of poetry. And all these
+impressions were inextricably blent with his first yearnings of holy
+aspiration, his first passion of mystical devotion. But not even
+Seville cathedral could win over our full sympathy. Too heavy were the
+faces of the priests who "sang the gori gori," too selfish that wigged
+and jointed doll, "Our Lady of Kings," with her sixty gorgeous
+mantles, a few of which would have clothed all the poor of Andalusia.
+Who shall draw the line between faith and superstition?
+
+But let not the tourist suppose he can escape his tyrant Baedeker even
+at the top of the Giralda. There are excursions that must be taken to
+points of interest outside the city. Most imperative of all is the
+trip to the ruined Roman amphitheatre of Italica, guarded by the
+mighty names of Scipio Africanus, Trajan, Hadrian, and Theodosius. Off
+we start, a dozen strong, in a great, open carriage, all the
+women-folk with fans and veils and with flowers in the hair. We rattle
+past the cathedral, over the bridge to Triana and out into the
+sweet-breathed country, passing many a picturesque group on the
+road,--these two peasants, for example, with their yellow-handled
+knives thrust into scarlet girdles, tossing dice under a fig tree. Our
+meditations among the crumbling blocks of that savage play-house would
+perhaps interest the reader less than our luncheon. Such Andalusian
+dainties as we swallowed,--cold soups like melted salads, home-made
+fig marmalade, cinnamon pastes of which the gypsies know the secret,
+and sugared chestnuts overflowed by a marvellous syrup wherein could
+be detected flavors of lemon peel, orange peel, and a medley of
+spices! In that scene of ancient bloodshed, of the lion's wrath and
+the martyr's anguish, we ate, drank, and were merry, but our banquet
+tasted of ghosts.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+PASSION WEEK IN SEVILLE
+
+     "All that was gracious was bestowed by the Virgin, and she was
+     the giver of all that human creatures could ask for. God
+     frowned, while she smiled; God chastised, but she forgave;
+     this last notion was by no means a strange one. It is accepted
+     with almost absolute faith among the laboring classes of the
+     rural parts of Spain."--GALDÓS: _Marianela_.
+
+
+Holy week throngs Seville to overflowing. The devout no longer scourge
+themselves in public, sprinkling the pavements with their blood, but
+Spaniards flock from all Andalusia, from Madrid, and even from the
+northern provinces to the sunny city on the storied Guadalquivír.
+Hotel charges run from twelve dollars a day up to incredible figures;
+a mere bed in a lodging house costs its three dollars, four dollars,
+or five dollars a night, and fortunate are those who enjoy the
+hospitality of a private home.
+
+The ceremonies opened Sunday morning with the procession of palms. We
+had been told by our cathedral guide the day before that this
+procession would take place at seven or half-past seven at the latest,
+and had asked the maid to call us at half-past six. As the chiming
+bells should have warned us, her knock was an hour tardy, but when,
+breakfastless and eager, we reached the cathedral a few minutes after
+eight, there was as yet no sign of a procession. Mass was being said
+in the Sagrario and in several chapels, and the morning light poured
+in through the rich-colored windows upon groups of kneeling figures
+before every shrine. The women wore black mantillas, for, although
+this most graceful of headdresses is losing credit on the fashionable
+promenades of Seville, and is almost never seen in open carriages,
+Holy Week demands it of all the faithful.
+
+We asked a white-robed young chorister when the procession would form.
+He answered with encouraging precision, "In twenty minutes." We roamed
+about for a half hour or more through those majestic spaces, beneath
+those soaring arches, aspiration wrought in stone, until by chance in
+that shifting multitude we came face to face with our guide of the day
+before. We asked how soon the procession would form. He said, "In
+twenty minutes," and we went home for coffee.
+
+When we returned the procession was streaming out of the cathedral
+into the street of the _Gran Capitán_. It was simple and all the more
+attractive for that simplicity. The colors of standards and vestments
+were mainly purple and gold, and the long, yellow fronds of palm,
+blown by the fresh breeze from the river, gleamed brighter than the
+sheen of candle or of mitre. Turning the corner, the procession, now
+facing the beautiful Giralda, entered by the ample Door of Pardon,
+still incrusted with its Arabic decorations, into the Court of
+Oranges, whose ripe fruit gave new touches of gold to the picture.
+
+Venders of palm were stationed in every sheltered corner, selling
+their wares, more than twice the height of a man, at fifteen cents
+the frond, while boys, darting about with armfuls of olive, were glad
+to take a cent the branch, and not have the best of their leafy store
+filched from them by sly old women, more intent, like the rest of us,
+on getting a blessing than deserving it.
+
+Through the multitude the glittering palms and purple robes swept on
+back into the cathedral, where the silent and remote archbishop, an
+image of gold in his splendid apparel, shed his benediction not only
+over the proud palms, but over every spray of "little gray leaves,"
+like those of Gethsemane. These blessed palms, sprinkled with holy
+water and wafting strange fragrances of incense, would be carried home
+and kept in myriad balconies all the year through, to protect the
+house from "the all-dreaded thunder-stone."
+
+That Sunday afternoon at five o'clock we were leaning out expectantly
+from our host's best balcony. With the constant Spanish courtesy, he
+had betaken himself, with the children of the household, to a less
+commanding balcony below, and his eldest son had considerately
+withdrawn, accompanied by his fiancée, to a mere speck of a balcony
+above. This left a dozen of us, Spanish, English, and American, to
+enjoy as good a view as the city afforded of the processional
+tableaux.
+
+The oblong _Plaza de la Constitución_, the scene in days gone by of
+many a tournament, _auto de fe_, and bull-fight, is bounded on one
+side by the ornate Renaissance façade of the city hall, and on the
+other, in part, by the plain front of the court-house, before which
+criminals used to be done to death. Private dwellings, with their
+tiers of balconies, one of which had fallen to our happy lot, cross
+the wider end of the _plaza_, while the other opens into the brilliant
+street of _Las Sierpes_, too narrow for carriages, but boasting the
+gayest shop windows and merriest cafés of all the town.
+
+The _plaza_, always animated, fairly rippled with excitement this Palm
+Sunday afternoon. The grand stand, erected in front of the city hall,
+was filled, although many of the camp-chairs and benches placed in
+thick-set rows on the farther side of the line of march were not yet
+rented. Thursday and Friday are the days that draw the multitudes. The
+crowd was bright with uniforms, most conspicuous being the spruce
+white-edged, three-cornered hats and dark-blue, red-faced coats of the
+civil guard. Venders of peanuts, peanut candy, macaroons, caramels,
+and all manner of _dulces_ swung their baskets from one sweet-toothed
+Spaniard to another, while wisely the water-seller went in their wake,
+with the artistic yellow jar over his shoulder. One young pedler was
+doing a flourishing business in crabs, the customers receiving these
+delicacies in outstretched pocket handkerchiefs.
+
+Busy as our eyes were kept, we were able to lend ear to the
+explanations of our Spanish friends, who told us that the church
+dignitaries, after the procession of palms, took no official part in
+the shows of Passion Week, although many of the clergy belonged, as
+individuals, to the religious brotherhoods concerned. The church
+reserves its street displays for Corpus Christi. These brotherhoods,
+societies of ancient origin, and connected with some church or chapel,
+own dramatic properties often of great intrinsic value and
+considerable antiquity.
+
+For days before Holy Week one may see the members busy in the churches
+at the task of arranging groups of sacred figures, vested as richly as
+possible in garments of silk and velvet, with ornaments of jewels and
+gold, on platforms so heavy that twenty-five men, at the least, are
+needed to carry each. These litters are escorted through the principal
+streets and squares of the city by their respective societies, each
+brotherhood having its distinctive dress. It is customary for every
+_cofradia_ to present two pageants--the first in honor of Christ; the
+second, and more important, in honor of Mary, to whom chivalrous Spain
+has always rendered supreme homage; but sometimes the two tableaux are
+combined into one.
+
+After long watching and waiting we saw, far down _Las Sierpes_, the
+coming of the first procession. A line of police marched in advance to
+clear the road. Then appeared a loosely ordered company of fantastic
+figures in blue capes and blue peaked caps, absurdly high and reaching
+down to the shoulder, with holes cut for the eyes. From beneath the
+capes flowed white frocks, and the gloves and sandals were white.
+These "Nazarenes," who looked like a survival of the Carnival,
+conducted in silence a litter upon which was erected an image of the
+crucified Christ, with face uplifted as if in prayer.
+
+The pageant halted before the doors of the city hall to greet the
+Alcalde, who rose from his red velvet chair and bared his head. Men
+uncovered, and people stood all along the route, but acclamations were
+reserved for Our Lady of the Star. Her attendant troop was dressed
+like the preceding, with a star embroidered in white on the shoulder
+of the blue tunic. Her litter was ablaze with candles and laden with
+flowers; her outsweeping train was upborne by four little pages, and a
+brass band followed her with unceasing music.
+
+  [Illustration: FILLING THE WATER-JARS]
+
+Sunset colors were in the sky before the procession of the second
+brotherhood arrived. At last, far down the _Sierpes_, the dusk was
+dotted with the gleam of many tapers, and above these, most impressive
+in the dim distance, glimmered a white figure high upon the cross. As
+the pageant drew near, waves of incense rolled out upon the air. The
+crash of trumpets and deep boom of drums announced that Our Lady of
+the Angels was advancing upon the same platform with her Son, for
+music in these Passion Week processions is always a sign of the
+presence of the Virgin. The brothers of this retinue wore black, save
+that their peaked caps were purple.
+
+As twilight gathered, a company of strange dark shapes bore past in
+solemn hush the Most Holy Christ of the Waters. The Saviour hung upon
+the cross, an angel receiving in a golden cup the blood from his
+wounded side. Then her great banner of white and blue heralded the
+approach of Our Lady of the Utter Grief, who passed with her
+accustomed pomp of lights and music, holding to her eyes a
+handkerchief said to be of the most exquisite lace.
+
+Night had fallen when, at eight o'clock, a maid left on vigil called
+us all from the dinner table to see the beautiful procession of
+white-robed figures conducting Our Father Jesus of the Silence. The
+figure of Christ, resplendent in gold and purple, stood before Herod,
+whose mail-clad soldiers guarded the prisoner. The Roman costumes were
+so well copied, and all the postures and groupings so startlingly
+natural, that _vivas_ went up all along the crowded square. As the
+banner of the Virgin saluted the Alcalde, her attendants let fall
+their long white trains, which swept out quite six yards behind,
+reaching from one brother to the next and yielding a wonderfully fine
+effect in the slow march. Our Lady of the Bitterness, toward whom
+leaned the tender look of St. John, was robed in superb brocade, so
+precious that her train, which stood stiffly out behind, was guarded
+by a soldier with drawn sword.
+
+This closed the ceremonies of Palm Sunday, and the throng, catching
+one from another the blithe, sweet Andalusian melodies, went singing
+softly through the darkness on their various ways.
+
+After Palm Sunday a secular quiet fell upon Seville, not broken until
+Wednesday. At five o'clock this March afternoon it was still so hot
+that few people were rash enough to move about without the shelter of
+parasols. Sevillian priests, sombre-robed as they were, sauntered
+cheerily across the _plaza_ under sunshades of the gayest hues,
+orange, green, azure, red, and usually all at once, but the shamefaced
+Englishmen flapped up broad umbrellas of an uncompromising black.
+There was a breezy flutter of fans on the grand stand, the
+water-sellers had to fill their jars again and again, and the
+multitude of smokers, puffing at their paper cigarettes to cool
+themselves, really brought on a premature twilight.
+
+It was nearly seven before a score of gendarmes, marching abreast,
+cleared the way for the procession. Then appeared, in the usual guise,
+some twenty feet apart, two files of those strange shapes, with high,
+peaked caps, whose visors descended to the breast, slowly advancing,
+with an interval of about six feet from man to man. Their caps and
+frocks were black, but the long capes glowed a vivid red. They carried
+the customary lighted tapers, so tall that, when rested on the ground,
+they reach to the shoulder. Midway between the files walked a
+cross-bearer, followed by a Nazarene, who uplifted the standard of
+St. Andrew's Cross in red on a black ground. Bearers of other insignia
+of the order preceded the great litter, on which, under a golden palm
+tree, was represented by life-size effigies the arrest of Christ among
+His Disciples, St. Andrew having the foremost place. The second
+pageant presented by this brotherhood was accompanied by bevies of
+white-robed boys swinging censers and chanting anthems. Then came, in
+effulgence of light, the Most Holy Virgin, escorted, as if she were
+the earthly Queen of Spain, by a detachment of the Civil Guard, whose
+white trimmings and gold belts gleamed in the candle rays.
+
+The remaining three _cofradias_ that had part in the Wednesday
+ceremonies exhibited but one pageant each. A troop in black and gold
+conducted a Calvary, with Mary Mother and Mary Magdalene both kneeling
+at the foot of the cross, robed in the richest velvet. Figures in
+white, with stripes of red, came after, with a yet more costly
+Calvary. The well-carved crucifix rose from a gilded mound, and Our
+Mother of Healing wore a gold crown of exceeding price. But the third
+Calvary, all wrought in black and gold, the colors of the brotherhood,
+which were repeated in standard and costume, won the plaudits of the
+evening. Here Longinus, the Roman centurion, mounted on a spirited
+horse, was in the act of piercing with his lance the Saviour's side.
+Amid _vivas_ and _bravos_ this Passion picture passed, like its
+predecessors, in clouds of incense and peals of solemn music.
+
+On Thursday the wearing of black was almost universal. We rummaged our
+shawl straps for some poor equivalent of the Spanish black silks and
+black mantillas. The Civil Guard was more superb than ever in
+full-dress uniform, with red vests and white trousers. No sound of
+wheels was suffered within the city limits, and late arrivals had to
+commit their luggage to a porter and follow him on foot.
+
+At three o'clock, in the Sagrario of the cathedral, the archbishop
+washed the feet of thirteen old paupers, who sat in two confronting
+rows, looking neat as wax and happy as honey, each dressed in a
+brand-new suit, with a long-fringed damask towel over his shoulder.
+Their old blood had been warmed by the archbishop's own wine, for they
+had just come from luncheon in the ecclesiastical palace, where they
+had been served by the highest dignitaries of the church and the
+proudest nobles of the city. The function of foot washing was not
+taken too seriously. The fat canons smiled good-humoredly on their
+archbishop, as his group of attendants lowered him to his knees and
+lifted him again before every old man in turn, and the acolytes nudged
+one another with boyish mirth over the rheumatic, embarrassed efforts
+of the beneficiaries to put on their stockings.
+
+A Franciscan friar mounted the pulpit, however, and turned the
+congregation, thickly sprinkled with English visitors, serious enough
+by a succinct and fiery sermon, saying, in a nutshell, that love is
+the glory of the religious life, but is the fruit only of Catholicism,
+for nowhere, though one searches the world over, can there be found a
+work of mercy--hospital, asylum, endowed school, charity of any sort
+or kind--due to Protestantism. And the old paupers, glancing down at
+their new suits and feeling the glow of their banquet, were glad to
+the tips of their purified toes that their lots had been cast in
+Catholic Spain.
+
+By six o'clock the squares and streets along the processional route
+were thronged again, although our Spanish friends assured us that the
+numbers were less than usual. The war feeling kept the Americans and,
+to some extent, the English away, while many of the Spanish of the
+provinces, who were accustomed to take their annual outing in Seville
+during the _Semana Santa_, were held at home this year by poverty or
+mourning.
+
+The first two pageants of the afternoon, those of the bull-fighters
+and the cigarette-makers, were awaited with especial eagerness. For
+these Seville brotherhoods, more than thirty in all, still maintain
+something of the mediæval structure of the guilds. Just as in England
+and France, from the eleventh to the fifteenth century, or
+thereabouts, organized companies of craftsmen used to present in
+Passion Week successive scenes from the life of Christ, these Spanish
+_cofradias_ to-day maintain such general lines of division in
+performing a similar function. Yet any Catholic Sevillian may, if he
+chooses, secure admission to any of these societies, irrespective of
+his occupation. The young _caballero_ who chanced to be our prime
+source of information this Thursday afternoon was himself of a
+prominent family, a protégé of the archbishop, and a student of law,
+yet he belonged to the brotherhood of Fruit Venders, although his
+devotion seemed a little languid, and he had excused himself on this
+occasion from the long march in the breathless Nazarene garb.
+
+Not all the brothers feel bound to perform this penitential service
+every Passion Week, and, indeed, not all the brotherhoods. Several of
+the most elaborate pageants were missing from the ranks this year.
+Such omissions are not as disastrous to the processional effect as
+they would have been in England, for example, some six centuries ago.
+Then the gilded and tapestried platforms, set on wheels, which the
+processions conducted through the streets, were really stages, and at
+the halting places the best actors of each guild played upon its
+particular platform an appointed scene from the sacred drama. The
+sequence of events was duly observed, and the spectator, standing in
+market-place or at street corner, while one theatre after another
+rolled by him, saw acted out with much finery of wardrobe and
+ingenuity of machinery, with tragic dialogue and declamation, relieved
+by comic interludes, all the Bible story, from the revolt of Lucifer
+to the Day of Judgment. But modern Spain, abandoning the acting and
+recitation and substituting puppets for living men, has let slip the
+dramatic sequence, so that a few pageants less means only so much
+abatement in the general splendor of the spectacle.
+
+The bull-fighters of Andalusia are eminently religious and are said,
+likewise, to be remarkable for their domestic virtues. All their manly
+fury is launched against the bull, and they have only gentleness left
+for wives and children. I have heard no better argument for the bull
+ring. At all events, these _toreros_, marching soberly in black, with
+yellow belts, escorted with well-ordered solemnity an image of the
+crucified Christ, followed by a queenly effigy of Our Lady of Refuge,
+erect behind terraced ranks of candles on a flower-strewn litter,
+under a costly canopy of black velvet embroidered with gold. The
+cigarette-makers came after with their two pageants, Christ fastened
+to the pillar, and Our Lady of Victory.
+
+It was, as usual, the second upon which the main expense had been
+lavished. A great company of acolytes, richly clad and swinging
+censers of pure silver, went in advance of the Virgin, and three bands
+of music followed her with continuous acclaim, while a regiment of
+soldiers attended as a guard of honor. Immediately in front of the
+_paso_ went, surrounded by officers and aides, General Ochando, his
+head uncovered and his breast glittering with decorations, for the
+young king of Spain is a member of this _cofradia_, and had sent the
+distinguished military governor of the Provinces, who has a palace in
+Seville, to represent him. Especial enthusiasm was called out by this
+image of Mary, for the cigarette-makers had just presented her with a
+new mantle at a cost of nine thousand dollars. The brothers were
+willingly aided by the seven thousand women who work in the immense
+tobacco factory, the average contribution of each donor being two
+_centimos_ (two-fifths of a cent) a week during the preceding year. No
+wonder that the Virgin seemed to stand proudly upon her silvered
+pedestal, her gorgeous new mantle streaming out until it almost
+touched the head of a white-vested girl who walked barefoot close
+behind the litter, so fulfilling a vow made in extremity of illness.
+
+Black and white were the banners and costumes of the third procession,
+very effective through the deepening dusk. Their leading pageant was a
+Gethsemane, famous for the beauty of the carving. Christ is
+represented in prayer before an angel, who bears in one hand the cross
+and in the other the cup of bitterness, while Peter, James, and John
+are sleeping near their Master. These Passion groups are, with a few
+exceptions of still earlier date, works of the seventeenth century,
+the glorious period of Spanish art, the day of Murillo and Velázquez.
+The most and best are from the hand of the Sevillian Montañés, of
+chief repute in the Spanish school of polychrome sculpture, but this
+Gethsemane was carved by his imitator, Roldan, whose daughter, La
+Roldana, is accredited with the figure of the angel and with the
+reliefs that adorn the pedestal.
+
+Another Virgin, who, like all the rest, seemed a scintillation of gold
+and jewels, swept by, and a new troop of Nazarenes, this time in
+purple and white, passed with two august pageants,--the Descent from
+the Cross and the Fifth Anguish of Mary. Then came two files of
+ash-colored figures, who marshalled, between their rows of starry
+tapers, each taper bending toward its opposite, a vivid presentation
+of the Crowning with Thorns; and, after this, their Mary of the
+Valley, noted for the gracious sweetness of her countenance. This
+image is held to be one of Montañés's masterpieces in wood-carving.
+
+Five processions had now passed, with their two pageants each, and the
+hour was late, but we could not leave the balcony for anything so
+commonplace as dinner. Far down the street of _Las Sierpes_ waved a
+river of lights, announcing the advent of the most ancient of all the
+Sevillian brotherhoods, Jesus of the Passion. The crowded _plaza_ rose
+in reverence as the Crucifixion _paso_ was borne by, and Our Lady of
+Mercy, too magnificent for her name, was greeted with rapturous
+outcries.
+
+  [Illustration: OFF FOR THE WAR]
+
+Just how and when and where something in the way of food was taken, I
+hardly know, but as this, the last of the Thursday evening
+processions, passed in music out of the _plaza_, a few of us made
+speed by a deserted side street to the cathedral. We were too late for
+the _Miserere_, which was just closing in that surprising hubbub,
+the stamping of feet and beating of canes and chairs against the
+floor, by which Spanish piety is wont to "punish Judas." But we took
+our station near by the entrance to the Royal Chapel, wherein had been
+erected the grand Holy Week monument, in white and gold, shaped like a
+temple, and shining with innumerable silver lamps and taper lights.
+Within this monument the Host, commonly spoken of in Spain as _Su
+Majestad_, had been solemnly placed the night before, much as the
+mediæval church used to lay the crucifix, with requiems, under the
+High Altar on Good Friday, and joyously bring it forth again Easter
+morning. But Spanish Catholicism is strangely indifferent to dates,
+burying the Host on Wednesday and celebrating the Resurrection
+Saturday.
+
+All day long the Royal Chapel had been filled with relays upon relays
+of kneeling worshippers, and the hush there had been so profound that
+the hum of the tourist-haunted nave and the tumult of the streets
+seemed faint and foreign to the hearing, like sounds a universe away.
+Before this chapel entrance all the pageants, as they were borne in
+silence through the cathedral, paused and did homage to the Host.
+Having outstripped the procession, we had arrived in season to witness
+three of these salutations. The Nazarenes, in passing, fell upon their
+knees in the light of the great, gleaming monument, and each of the
+heavy platforms was slowly swung about so that it faced this symbol of
+Christ's sepulchre.
+
+Yet there was something besides devotion in the cathedral. As the
+crowd pressed close, we felt, more than once, a fumbling at our
+pockets, and the little artist lost her purse. The rest of us
+comforted her by saying over and over that she ought to have known
+better than to bring it, and by severally relating how cautious we had
+been on our own accounts.
+
+It was hard upon eleven when we returned to the house, but the streets
+were all alive with people. I went to the balcony at midnight, and
+again at the stroke of one, and both times looked down upon a _plaza_
+crossed and recrossed in all directions by talkative, eager groups.
+Many of these restless promenaders had been able to get no lodgings,
+and were walking to keep warm. The pressure upon the hotels was so
+great that one desperate stranger this Thursday night paid twenty
+dollars for a cot from ten o'clock till two, and private hospitality
+was taxed to a degree that nothing but Spanish courtesy and
+good-nature could ever have endured. In the house which harbored us,
+for instance, we were all fitted in as compactly as the pieces of a
+puzzle, when the unexpected friends began to arrive.
+
+On Wednesday there appeared from the far north a man and wife,
+acquaintances of ten years back. Our host and hostess greeted this
+surprise party with Andalusian sunshine in their faces, and yielded up
+their own room. Thursday morning there walked gayly in one of the
+son's university classmates from Madrid. Don Pepe embraced him like a
+brother, and surrendered the sofa, which was all he had left to give.
+And this Thursday midnight, as a crowning touch, three more chums of
+college days came clattering at the bell. Their welcome was as cordial
+as if the household were pining for society. The tired maids, laughing
+gleefully over the predicament, contributed their own mattresses and
+pillows, and made up beds on the study floor, where Don Pepe camped
+out with his comrades, to rise with a headache that lasted for days
+after.
+
+By two o'clock I had taken my station on the balcony for an all-night
+vigil. The most of the family bore me company for the cogent reason
+that they had nowhere to sleep, but the other guests of the house held
+out for only an hour or two, and then went blinking to their repose.
+My memory of the night is strangely divided between the dreamlike,
+unearthly pomps and splendors streaming through the square below and
+the kindly, cheery people who came and went about me. The señora,
+still fresh and charming, although she has wept the deaths of fourteen
+out of her nineteen children, was merrily relating, with weary head
+against her husband's shoulder, her almost insuperable difficulties in
+the way of furnishing her table. The milkman roundly declared that if
+she wanted a double quantity of the precious fluid (and goat's milk at
+that), she must make it up with water. There was no meat to be had in
+the Catholic city during these holy days, and even her baker had
+forsaken his oven and gone off to see the sights. And the
+black-bearded señor, who, like his wife, had not been in bed for forty
+odd hours, laughed at her and comforted her, puffed harder than ever
+at his cigarette, and roguishly quoted the saying, "He whom God loves
+has a house in Seville."
+
+By two o'clock the seats on the grand stand were filling fast, the
+_plaza_ hummed with excitement, the balconies resounded with song and
+laughter, and the strong electric lights in front of the city hall
+cast a hard, white brilliance over all the scene. The frying of
+_calientes_, an Andalusian version of twisted doughnuts, was in savory
+progress here and there on the outskirts of the throng, and our ever
+thoughtful hostess did not fail to keep her balcony well supplied
+with these crisp dainties.
+
+The twinkling of taper lights, so warm and yellow under those pallid
+globes of electric glare, appeared while people were still hurrying to
+their places; but hundreds upon hundreds of black and gold figures had
+paced by before the first of their _pasos_ came into view. For these
+processions of the dawn, _de madrugada_, call out great numbers of the
+devout, who would thus keep the last watch with their Lord. The clocks
+struck three as the leading pageant, a very ancient image of Christ,
+bearing a silver-mounted cross of tortoise-shell, halted before the
+Alcalde. A white banner wrought with gold heralded the Virgin, who
+rose, in glistening attire, from a golden lake of lights.
+
+The wealthy _cofradia_ of San Lorenzo followed in their costly habits
+of black velvet. They, too, conducted a pageant of Christ bearing His
+cross, one of the most beautiful groups of Montañés, the pedestal
+adorned with angels in relief. To the Christ, falling on the Via
+Dolorosa, the brotherhood, with the usual disregard of historic
+propriety, had given a royal mantle of ermine, embroidered with gold
+and pearls. A large company of black-clad women, carrying candles,
+walked behind the _paso_, on their penitential march of some eight
+hours. Many of them were ladies delicately bred, whose diamonds
+sparkled on the breast of the approaching Mary. For the Sevillian
+señoras are accustomed to lend their most valuable gems to their
+favorite Virgins for the _Semana Santa_, and San Lorenzo's Lady of
+Grief is said to have worn this night the worth of millions. She
+passed amid a great attendant throng, in such clouds of incense that
+the eye could barely catch the shimmer of her silver pedestal, the
+gleam of the golden broideries that almost hid the velvet of her
+mantle, and the flashes and jets of light that shot from the
+incredible treasure of jewels that she wore.
+
+The third troop of Nazarenes, robed in white and violet, bore for
+banner a white cross upon a violet ground. Their Christ-pageant
+pictured Pilate in his judgment seat in the act of condemning the Son
+of God to death. Jesus, guarded by armed soldiers, calmly confronts
+the troubled judge, at whose knee wait two little pages with a basin
+of water and towels.
+
+And now came one of the most gorgeous features of the Holy Week
+processions--a legion of Roman soldiers, attired as never Roman
+soldiers were, in gold greaves and crimson tunics, with towering
+snow-white plumes. But a splendid show they made as, marching to drum
+and fife, they filed down _Las Sierpes_ and stretched "in never ending
+line" across the _plaza_. Our most Holy Mary of Hope, who followed,
+wearing a fair white tunic and a gold-embroidered mantle of green, the
+color of the hopeful season, drowned the memory of that stern military
+music in a silver concert of flutes.
+
+After this sumptuous display, the fourth band of Nazarenes, gliding
+through the _plaza_ between night and day in their garb of black and
+white, could arouse but little enthusiasm, although their Crucifixion
+was one of the most artistic, and their Lady of the Presentation had
+her poorest garment of fine satin.
+
+A pearly lustre was stealing through the sky, and the chill in the air
+was thinning the rows of spectators on the grand stand, when
+mysterious, dim-white shapes, like ghosts, bore by in utter silence a
+pageant of Christ fainting beneath the burden of the cross. But soon
+the clamor of drums and fifes ushered in another long array of Roman
+soldiers, a rainbow host in red and pink and blue, crimson plumes
+alternating with white, and golden shields with silver. The electric
+lights, globed high overhead, took one look at this fantastic
+cavalcade and went out with a gasp.
+
+It was now clear day. Canaries began to sing in their cages, and
+parrots to scream for chocolate. Sleepy-eyed servant-maids appeared on
+the balconies, and market women, leading green-laden donkeys, peered
+forth from the side streets into the square. The morning light made
+havoc with the glamour of the pageants. Something frank and practical
+in the sunshine stripped those candle-lighted litters of their
+dignity. Busy people dodged through the procession lines, and one
+Nazarene after another might be seen slipping out of the ranks and
+hurrying awkwardly, in his cumbersome dress, with the half-burned
+taper under his arm, to the refuge of his own mosquito-netting and
+orange tree. The tired crowd grew critical and irreverent, and openly
+railed upon the Virgin of this ghostly _cofradia_ because her velvet
+mantle was comparatively plain. "Bah! how poor it is! Are we to sit
+here all the night for such stingy shows as that?"
+
+But the last brotherhood in the _madrugada_ processions had, with
+their white frocks and blue caps and capes, suited themselves to the
+colors of the day. The stumbling children, blind with sleep, whom
+fathers were already leading off the square, turned back for a drowsy
+gaze at the resplendent tunic of the Christ in the Via Dolorosa
+_paso_, a tunic claimed to be the richest of all the garments worn by
+the effigies of Jesus. So lovely was this trooping company in their
+tints of sky and cloud, bearing a great blue banner and a shining
+ivory cross, that they brought order and decorum with them.
+
+The division that escorted the Virgin marched on with especial
+steadiness, not a peaked cap drooping, nor a boyish acolyte faltering
+under the weight of his tall gilded censer. This most Holy Mary of
+Anguish, whose litter and canopy were all of white and gold, swept by
+in triumphal peals of music while the clocks were striking six. In
+some mental confusion, I said good night to the people I left on the
+balcony, and good morning to the people I met on the stairs, and ate
+my breakfast before I went to bed.
+
+It seemed as if human nature could bear no more; the eyes ached with
+seeing, and phantasmal processions went sweeping through our dreams;
+yet Friday afternoon at five o'clock found our balcony, like all the
+rest, full to overflowing. Some twenty thousand people were massed in
+the _plaza_, and it was estimated that over one hundred thousand
+waited along the line of march. Our Spanish entertainers, still
+unrefreshed by any chance for sleep, were as gayly and punctiliously
+attentive to their guests as ever, from our gallant host, who
+presented the ladies with fragrant bouquets of roses and orange
+blossoms, to the little pet of the household, who at the most
+engrossing moments in the ceremonial would slip away from her
+privileged stand on a footstool against the railing to summon any
+member of the party who might be missing the spectacle.
+
+The Spanish colors floated out from city hall and court-house, but the
+great concourse below was all in hues of mourning, the black mantillas
+often falling over dresses of plain purple. The señoritas in the
+balconies had substituted knots of black ribbon for the customary
+flowers in the hair. Jet trimmings abounded, and the waving fans were
+black.
+
+The coming procession, we were assured on every hand, would be the
+most solemn of all and the most sumptuous. The habits of the Nazarenes
+would be of satin, silk, and velvet. The images of Christ and the
+Virgin would be attired with all possible magnificence of damask and
+ermine, gold and jewels. Brotherhood would vie with brotherhood in
+splendor, and one prodigy of luxury would succeed another.
+
+The leading company, whose far-trailing robes carpeted the street with
+fine black velvet, stood for the olive industry. This _cofradia_ had
+been poor and unimportant for generations, but in recent years a
+devoted brother, a manufacturer of olive packing-barrels, had poured
+forth his accumulated fortune upon the society, with the result that
+their _pasos_ are now second in ostentation and expense to none. The
+donor, long since too feeble to bear his taper in the line, lives in
+humble obscurity, but his old heart swells with joy this great day of
+the year when he sees, following the elaborate carving of the
+Crucifixion, the dazzling chariot of Our Lady of Solitude. Upon her
+mantle, which enjoys the proud distinction of being the very costliest
+of all, he has lavished twenty thousand dollars. Longer by a yard than
+any of the others, it was yet unable to find place for all the gold
+which the zealous Nazarene had given for it, and the residue was
+bestowed about the pedestal and canopy. The _paso_ is so heavy with
+gold that it requires a double force of men to carry it; but each of
+these hidden bearers, getting air as best he can through a silver
+breathing-tube, is sure of a dollar for his recompense as well as two
+glasses of good wine.
+
+  [Illustration: GRANADA. LOOKING TOWARD THE DARRO]
+
+All the adornment of the litter is of pure gold, and such wealth of
+jewels glinted from the Virgin's glorious raiment that a triple force
+of Civil Guards was detailed for her protection. Her ardent worshipper
+has denied her nothing. The very columns that uphold her canopy are
+exquisite in carving, and it is his yearly pride to see that her
+clouds of incense are the thickest, and her train of musicians the
+most extended, in all that glittering line.
+
+The second _cofradia_ exhibited but a single pageant, relying for
+effect upon the beauty of the sculpture. The Mater Dolorosa was bowed
+in her desolation at the foot of the Holy Rood, from which hung only
+the white folds of the winding-sheet.
+
+But the third brotherhood had bethought themselves to introduce,
+between their austere Crucifixion and their shining image of Mary,
+another preposterous parade of Roman soldiers--flower-colored,
+plume-tossing, butterfly creatures far too bright, if not too good,
+"for human nature's daily food." One whiff from Cæsar's iron breast
+would have blown them away like soap bubbles.
+
+The silversmiths trooped by in graver, more majestic state, their
+purple velvet habits girded with gold cords. Upon a gilded pedestal,
+wrought with high relief, was seen their Christ, bowed beneath a
+precious cross of tortoise-shell and silver. Our Lady of Expectation
+gleamed with gold and gems, and this haughty brotherhood received a
+full meed of applause.
+
+Black from top to toe was the fifth procession. Their Jesus of the Via
+Dolorosa bent beneath a sombre cross of ebony embossed with gold, but
+the blithe young voices of the countless choir-boys, singing like
+birds before the dawn, ushered in a sun-bright image of Mary.
+
+But something was amiss with the processional order. Where were the
+stately ranks of Montserrat? Alas and alas! Scarcely had this
+aristocratic _cofradia_ gone a hundred paces from their chapel when,
+in the narrow street of Murillo, a leaning candle touched the lace
+skirt of the Virgin and instantly all the front of the litter was in
+flames. It was hardly a matter of minutes. From the balconies above
+were dashed down pailfuls and pitcherfuls of water. The Nazarenes,
+wrenching away the blue velvet mantle wondrously embroidered in gold
+with castles, lions, and _fleurs de lis_, succeeded in rescuing a
+ragged half of it, and the Civil Guards, drawing their swords and
+forming a circle about the smoking litter, saved the jewels from
+robbery. Perhaps the other _paso_, too, Christ of the Conversion of
+the Penitent Thief, had some protecting influence. But in all this ado
+about her finery, the poor Virgin's face, beloved for its winsome
+look, was completely burned away. In sorry plight Our Lady of
+Montserrat was hurried back to her chapel, and the swift rumor of the
+disaster sent a superstitious trouble through the city.
+
+But more and more solemnly the taper-bearing troops of Nazarenes
+poured by with the culminating pictures of the Passion. These last
+three _cofradias_ presented each a single pageant. An escort in dark
+purple conducted an impressive Descent from the Cross. The Virgin, her
+crowned head bowed in anguish, clasps the drooping body of Christ to
+her heart, while John and Mary Magdalene look on in hopeless sorrow.
+Figures in black and white came after, with their sixteenth-century
+carving, Christ of the Dying Breath, beneath the cross standing Our
+Lady of Tears. And last of all, in slow, sad movement, their white
+trains streaming like a line of light along the stone-paved way,
+passed the second brotherhood of San Lorenzo, bearing the Most Blessed
+Virgin in her Solitude. The gold of her mantle seemed one with the
+gold of the candle rays, and, for many a silent watcher, those
+gliding, gleaming, spiritlike forms will move forever down a shining
+path in memory. So closed the Holy Week processions.
+
+"How sorry I am," said our host, with the Andalusian twinkle in his
+eye. "It is almost eleven o'clock. Ladies and gentlemen, will you
+please walk out to dinner?"
+
+On Saturday morning we went early to the cathedral for the closing
+rite. The Sagrario was thronged. Some of the señoras had brought low
+folding chairs with them, others sat upon the floor, but most of that
+innumerable congregation knelt or stood. We were all facing the great
+purple veil which concealed the high altar, with Roldan's retablo of
+the Descent from the Cross. There was an hour or more of expectation,
+during which rosaries slipped through the fingers of many a veiled
+nun, and the soft murmur of prayer came from strong men as well as
+from pale-faced women. Suddenly, while a shock of thunder crashed from
+the organ, hidden ministrants sharply drew on hidden cords, the purple
+curtain parted in the midst, and the two folds rolled asunder,
+revealing the high altar, with its carving of the accomplished
+Passion. The organ poured forth jubilees of victory, all the bells of
+the cathedral pealed together, _Gloria in Excelsis_ soared in choral
+chant, and amid the awe-stricken multitudes fallen to their knees, _Su
+Majestad_ was borne in priestly procession from the tomb in the Royal
+Chapel to the candles and incense which awaited at the high altar that
+triumphal coming.
+
+Easter Sunday was celebrated by a bull-fight.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+TRACES OF THE INQUISITION
+
+     "I live a life more great than I.
+     The life I hope is life so high,
+     I die because I cannot die."
+                                --_Santa Teresa de Jesús._
+
+
+All Spaniards venerate the name of _Isabel la Católica_, nor is the
+impressionable De Amicis the only foreigner who has trembled and wept
+at Granada before the enshrined memorials, jewel box, mirror, missal,
+and crown, of her royal womanhood. She is a precious figure in Spain's
+sunset revery--a saint beneath a conquering standard, a silken lady in
+a soldier's tent. Yet this peerless queen, merciful, magnanimous,
+devout, "the shield of the innocent," caring supremely for the glory
+of God and the good of her country, gave consent, albeit reluctant, to
+the establishment of the Inquisition, Christianity's chief scandal and
+Spain's most fatal blight. So ironic were the stars of Isabel.
+
+The Inquisition, it is true, originated in Italy early in the
+thirteenth century and followed the flight of some of the Albigenses
+into Aragon, but its work in Spain had been comparatively slight and
+merciful until the "Catholic Kings," in the interests of religious
+reform, for the purification of the national faith, let its horrors
+loose. Wherever one moves in Spain the sickening breath of the _auto
+de fe_ lingers in the air. In such a square, we read, was once a
+mighty bonfire of Jews; beneath our feet, we are told, is a mass of
+human bones and cinders. This sunshiny Seville, with her parks and
+patios, her palms and orange groves, a city seemingly fashioned only
+for love and song, had her army of nearly twoscore thousand martyrs,
+who, dressed in the hateful _San Benitos_, yellow coats painted with
+flames and devils, were burned to death here in our gay _Plaza de la
+Constitución_, then known as the _Plaza de San Francisco_, and in the
+_Quemadero_ beyond the walls. As one mingles with some outdoor throng,
+all intent on pageant, dance, or other spectacle, one shudders to
+remember that just such dark, eager faces were ringed about the
+agonies of those heroic victims. For there are two sides to the
+Spanish Inquisition. If Spaniards were the inquisitors, Spaniards,
+too, were the dauntless sufferers. The sombre gaze of the torturer was
+met, as steel meets iron, by the unflinching eye of the tortured. But
+"the unimaginable touch of Time" transforms all tragedy to beauty, and
+red poppies, blowing on the grassy plain of the _Quemadero_, translate
+into poetry to-day that tale of blazing fagots.
+
+Sometimes the victims were of foreign blood. Hakluyt has preserved the
+simple narratives of two English sailors, who were brought by their
+Spanish captors from the Indies as a sacrifice to the Holy House of
+Seville. One, a happy-go-lucky fellow, Miles Phillips, who had been
+too well acquainted in Mexico with the dungeons of the Inquisition,
+slipped over the ship's side at San Lúcar, made his way to shore, and
+boldly went to Seville, where he lived a hidden life as a silk-weaver,
+until he found his chance to steal away and board a Devon
+merchantman. The other, Job Hortop, added to his two years of Mexican
+imprisonment two more years in Seville. Then "they brought us out in
+procession, every one of us having a candle in his hand, and the coat
+with S. Andrew's cross on our backs; they brought us up on an high
+scaffold, that was set up in the place of S. Francis, which is in the
+chief street of Seville; there they set us down upon benches, every
+one in his degree, and against us on another scaffold sate all the
+Judges and the Clergy on their benches. The people wondered, and gazed
+on us, some pitying our case, others said, burn those heretics. When
+we had sat there two hours, we had a sermon made to us, after which
+one called Bresinia, secretary to the Inquisition, went up into the
+pulpit with the process, and called Robert Barret, ship-master, and
+John Gilbert, whom two Familiars of the Inquisition brought from the
+scaffold before the Judges, where the secretary read the sentence,
+which was that they should be burnt, and so they returned to the
+scaffold, and were burnt.
+
+"Then I, Job Hortop, and John Bone, were called, and brought to the
+place, as before, when we heard our sentence, which was, that we
+should go to the Galleys, and there to row at the oar's end ten years,
+and then to be brought back to the Inquisition House, to have the coat
+with S. Andrew's cross put on our backs, and from thence to go to the
+everlasting prison remediless.
+
+"I with the rest were sent to the Galleys, where we were chained four
+and four together.... Hunger, thirst, cold, and stripes we lacked
+none, till our several times expired, and after the time of twelve
+years, for I served two years above my sentence, I was sent back to
+the Inquisition House in Seville, and there having put on the coat
+with S. Andrew's cross, I was sent to the everlasting prison
+remediless, where I wore the coat four years, and then upon great suit
+I had it taken off for fifty duckets, which Hernando de Soria,
+treasurer of the king's mint, lent me, whom I was to serve for it as a
+drudge seven years."
+
+But this victim, too, escaped in a fly-boat at last, and on a certain
+Christmas Eve, about the time when people in London were beginning to
+like the comedies of a certain poor player, one Will Shakespeare, did
+Job Hortop, Powder-maker and Gunner, walk quietly, after twenty-three
+years of martyrdom, into the village of Redcliffe, where he had been a
+ruddy English boy with no dream of the day when he should be "prest
+forth" by Sir John Hawkins and compelled, sore against his will, to
+embark for the West Indian adventure.
+
+Religious liberty now exists under the laws of Spain, although the
+administration of those laws leaves much to be desired. In three old
+conventual churches of Seville gather her three Protestant
+congregations. Beneath the pavements of two of these heretic
+strongholds old inquisitors sleep what uneasy sleep they may, while
+one of the Protestant pastors, formerly a Catholic priest, has quietly
+collected and stored in his church-study numerous mementos of the Holy
+Office. Here may be seen two of those rare copies of the 1602 revision
+of the Spanish Bible, by Cipriano de Valera, whom the Inquisition
+could burn only in effigy, since the translator, who had printed his
+book in Amsterdam, did not return to accompany the Familiars to the
+_Quemadero_. Here are old books with horrible woodcuts of the
+torments, and time-stained manuscripts, several bearing the seal and
+signatures of the "Catholic Kings," these last so ill written that it
+is hard to tell the name of Ferdinand from that of Isabella. Among
+these are royal commissions, or licenses, granted to individual
+inquisitors, records of _autos de fe_, and wills of rich inquisitors,
+the sources of whose wealth would hardly court a strict examination.
+Here, too, is the standard of the Holy Office, the very banner borne
+through Seville in those grim processions. Its white silk is saffroned
+now, but the strange seal of the Inquisition, a bleeding Christ upon
+the cross, is clearly blazoned in the centre, while the four corners
+show the seal of San Domingo.
+
+The Inquisition prison, the dreaded Holy House of Seville, is used as
+a factory at present, and heresy no longer secures admission there;
+but I looked up at its grated windows, and then, with a secret shiver,
+down on the ground, where the Spanish pastor of antiquarian tastes was
+marking out with his cane the directions of the far-branching
+subterranean cells. We slipped into an outer court of the _fabrica_,
+where the two gentlemen, effectively aided by a couple of sturdy lads,
+pried up and flung back a sullen door in the pavement and invited me
+to grope my darkling way down some twenty crumbling steps, overgrown
+with a treacherous green mould. There was no refusing, in face of the
+cloud of witnesses whose groans these stones had heard, and I took a
+heart-breaking plunge into the honeycomb of chill, foul-smelling,
+horror-haunted dungeons, whose roofs let fall a constant drip of water
+and from whose black recesses I was the unwilling means of liberating
+a choice variety of insects.
+
+"But even yet one cannot call one's self a Protestant in Spain, you
+know," said an English diplomat to us in another city of Andalusia.
+"It's not socially respectable. Spanish Protestants are the very scum
+of the earth--illiterate, dirty, boorish. You couldn't associate with
+them for a minute."
+
+"But that Spanish pastor who called on us yesterday was entirely a
+gentleman," we remonstrated. "He has studied for seven years in
+Switzerland and Scotland, seems more open-minded and intelligent than
+most Spaniards we have met, and was so courteous and graceful in his
+bearing--not to mention the whiteness of his linen--and so
+entertaining in his talk, that the Spanish ladies in the room
+chorussed his praises, after he had bowed himself out, and declared
+him most delightful company."
+
+The diplomat twirled his mustache and smiled, as only diplomats can.
+"And you owned up that he was a Protestant? And their faces darkened
+as if a storm-cloud had blown over from the Sierras?"
+
+"Precisely so," we admitted, "and after that the best they could say
+for him was that they never would have thought it."
+
+The diplomat claimed that he had made his point, while we protested
+that the incident only went to show how unreasonable was the prejudice
+of whose existence throughout Spain there can be no manner of doubt.
+
+Perez Galdós, for instance, the most popular novelist of the day,
+stated to an American friend, who repeated it to us, that he frankly
+could not afford to introduce the figure of a Protestant into one of
+his stories. "It would not only kill that book," he said, "but it
+would hurt the sale of everything I have in the market and embarrass
+all my future undertakings. I should simply be risking the loss of my
+reading public." And yet Señor Galdós is the author of "Doña
+Perfecta," that artistic study of the conflict between new ideas and
+old in Spain. In this significant novel, a civil engineer, a man of
+thirty, whose scientific education in the large cities of Seville and
+Madrid has been supplemented by study in Germany and England, comes to
+one of those mediæval towns, or corpses of towns, that rise so
+spectre-like from the ash-colored plains of Old Castile. Crumbling
+walls and blackened towers jealously guard the life of ages since,
+that feudal life of high and low, pride of station, pride of animal
+prowess, pride of holiness, pride of idleness, pride of ignorance; the
+life of superstition, of family exclusiveness resulting in
+intermarriage to the point of insanity; of that fierce local bigotry,
+peculiarly Spanish, which dreads and hates all foreign intrusion. The
+streets, devoid of business activity, swarm with vigorous mendicants,
+who have no better shift, when times grow hard, than to deform the
+children who are born to them like kittens in their mud-walled hovels.
+The casino, where half the town smokes half its time away, hums with
+malicious gossip. The university languidly pursues the studies of
+Latin, scholastic divinity, Church history, and all that savors of the
+past. Under the gray vault of the cathedral women kneel before the
+image of the Christ Child, bringing Him a new pair of embroidered
+pantalets and entreating of His rosy simplicity what they would not
+dare ask from the "Ecce Homo"; or they kiss the satin-slippered feet
+of the miracle-working Virgin and vow her, if their prayer is granted,
+seven bright new swords of the finest Toledo workmanship to pierce her
+patient heart. The man of scientific training, fresh from the modern
+world, is brought into sharp collision with this dim old town. High
+principles and essential, spiritual Christianity count him for
+nothing; he is speedily denounced as no better than "a murderer, an
+atheist, or a Protestant," and his strong young life is actually
+beaten out by that blind, terrible force of Spanish fanaticism. So far
+the novelist can go; such a hero he dares paint; but not a Protestant.
+
+The notions of Protestantism prevalent among the people, not the
+peasants only, but the gentry, are little short of ludicrous. A
+black-eyed lady of Cadiz was amazed at our assertion that Protestants
+prayed. A Madrid señorita asked us, in friendly confidence, if it were
+true that Protestants "denied Christ and spat on the Virgin." The
+popular identification of Protestantism with all that is impious and
+criminal we encountered as early as our second afternoon in Spain. We
+were visiting, in the picturesque fishing-hamlet of Pasajes, a gaunt
+Basque church, where the old dame who served as caretaker showed us a
+waxen image of a sleeping girl, said, not without probability, to have
+been brought from Rome. Beneath the figure is a burial stone, whose
+inscription would locate it in the Catacombs. When friends of ours
+were at Pasajes some three years before, the grandam's story ran that
+the image was the likeness of a Christian martyr, slain by her pagan
+father at Rome in the time of the Imperial persecutions; but the tale
+glibly recited to us was this: "_Ay de mi!_ The poor young lady! Her
+father was a Protestant, and, of course, hated religion, and when his
+daughter, so beautiful, was on her way to her first communion, he hid
+behind a corner, with an axe, and of a sudden jumped out on her and
+struck her dead."
+
+It is such prejudice that goes far toward justifying the maintenance
+by foreign societies of Protestant churches in Spain. They cannot
+stand alone, in face of all this hostility, and yet the country has
+need of them. No European nation can nowadays be shut in to any single
+channel of religious life, and doubtless, apart from all questions of
+creed, there are Spanish temperaments to which the simpler _culto_ is
+more natural than the elaborate ritual of Rome; but, waiving
+discussion as to the relative gifts and graces of these two great
+divisions of Christ's fellowship, the new seems essential, not for
+itself alone, but as a stimulus and corrective to the old. Time may
+make it clear that a purified Roman Catholicism is better suited to
+the Latin races in general than plainer rites and less symbolic
+worship, but there are heavy counts against the Roman Catholic Church
+as it exists in Spain. The private lives of the clergy, as a class,
+have been so open to reproach that even the finger-games and nonsense
+songs of the little children, learned with their baby lispings, mock
+priestly immorality. The Church, steward of untold wealth, has endowed
+many charities, but the fundamental trust of knowledge it has most
+sluggishly and inadequately dispensed. Santiago de Compostela, for
+example, is a very nest of religious foundations. Thirty-six Christian
+fraternities are gathered there, yet we were told on good authority
+that not one peasant in a hundred of those within hearing of
+Santiago's fivescore and fourteen holy bells can read and write. In
+matters of State, the Church has utterly lost the allegiance of the
+progressive party and, to a large extent, the political confidence of
+the nation. As Spaniards study the history of their country, they
+realize more and more that her colossal mistakes and misfortunes have
+been due in large measure to Jesuit and Dominical policy--to the
+father confessor in the royal chamber, the inquisitor in shadow of
+the throne. With reference to the success of the Church in promoting
+spiritual life, a beautiful young nun, her eyes glistening like happy
+stars, assured us that there was more devotion in Catholic Spain than
+in all the rest of Christendom. A scientist of repute, his voice
+choking with grief and wrath, declared to us that the fetters of
+superstition had become hopelessly riveted, during these ages of
+Church control, on the Spanish mind. But call it what you will,
+devotion or superstition, and admitting, as the tourist must, that it
+is a most conspicuous and impressive feature of Spanish life, there
+are nevertheless thousands of Spaniards, especially the younger men,
+over whom it has lost sway. These are the _indiferentes_, many of whom
+might find, as some have found, in a fresh presentation of
+Christianity, the Godward impetus which they no longer gain from the
+Church of Rome.
+
+The most cheerful _indiferente_ I encountered in Spain was a whimsical
+old philosopher, well on his way to the nineties, yet so brisk and
+hardy as almost to vie with Borrow's Portuguese dame whose hair "was
+becoming gray" after a life of one hundred and ten years. His hair,
+indeed, is white, and extreme age has written its deforming marks on
+face and figure, yet he runs up the steepest stairs, reads the finest
+print, fills his days with a close succession of labors and
+amusements, and scoffs at religion as airily as if Death had passed
+him on the crowded way and would never turn back to look for him
+again.
+
+At our first meeting he offered, with characteristic kindness, to come
+and read Spanish with me. As I had invaded Spain for the express
+purpose of studying the Spanish drama, I took a volume of Calderon
+from my trunk and hopefully awaited his visit. But it was a matter of
+several visits before I could open my Calderon. The jaunty old
+cavalier arrived, brimming over with chat and anecdote, and when at
+last I hinted at the reading, produced with pride from his inner coat
+pocket a little, paper-bound _geografia_ that he had written himself
+for use in the Spanish schools, and proceeded to regale me with
+extracts from its pages. I looked severely at the little artist, whose
+eyes were dancing in a demure face, and endeavored to profit by this
+unexpected course of instruction. The author chuckled much over his
+sagacity in having arranged the subject-matter of his book in
+paragraphs and not by question and answer. In the latter case, he
+explained, the children would learn the answers without reading the
+questions, a process bound to result in geographical confusion. The
+little volume, as is the wont of school books in other lands, tended
+to give to its students a disproportionate idea of the importance of
+their own country. Spain and her colonies were treated in seventy
+pages, Great Britain and her colonies in three, France in four, while
+America, from Greenland to Patagonia, was handled as a single entity,
+one figure each, and those absurdly small, being set for "her
+population, army, and navy." The _Confederación de los Estados Unidos_
+was barely mentioned as one of the five "States" of North America.
+
+But the only feature of his book for which the author felt called upon
+to apologize, was the catering to popular superstition, as in stating,
+for instance, that in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela is
+adored the veritable body of St. James. He cast a quizzical glance at
+me in reading this, and then laughed himself purple in the face. "One
+has to say these things in this country," he gasped, still breathless
+from his mirth. "Drops of water must run with the stream. If only
+there were a shrine where people might be cured of being fools!"
+
+Quick-witted as the old gentleman was, he presently detected a lack of
+geographical enthusiasm in his audience. His literary vanity smarted
+for a moment and then he fell to laughing, declaring that ladies
+always had a distaste for useful information. "That old wife of mine"
+could not abide arithmetic. He digressed into an explanation of the
+Roman notation, making it quite clear to us wherein IX differs from
+XI, and with antiquated courtliness of phrase, even for Spain, asked
+our gracious permission to cause himself the pain of departure.
+
+He often reappeared. His wiry arm, reached through the Moorish bars of
+the outer door, would give its own peculiarly energetic twitch to the
+bell chain looped within. A maid, leaning over the railing of an upper
+story, would call down the challenge inherited from good old fighting
+times, "Who comes here?" And his thin voice would chirp the Andalusian
+answer, "Peace."
+
+On his second visit he fairly gurgled with pleasure as he placed
+another volume with his name on the title-page before me. Since I did
+not incline to solid reading, behold him equally ready to supply me
+with the sweets of literature! This, too, was a school book, a
+somewhat haphazard collection of Castilian poems, with brief
+biographies of the authors represented. Its novel educational feature
+was the printing of each poem in a different type. The result was a
+little startling to the eye, but the editor was doubtless right in
+claiming that it made the reading harder for the children, and so
+developed their powers through exercise. Here, again, he was ashamed
+of the fact that fully two-thirds of the poems were religious.
+
+"But what can one do in this country?" he asked testily. "All the
+reading books have to be like that. Bah! But we will not read these
+pious verses. The others are much more entertaining."
+
+Determined not to wound him again by any lack of interest in books of
+his own shaping, we sat patiently through page after page of that
+juvenile school reader; but when, with a pamphlet on spelling and
+punctuation, we had completed the list of his works, I once more
+called his attention to Calderon.
+
+This struck him as a capital joke. He had never read Calderon himself,
+he had hardly heard of Calderon, and that a foreigner, a woman at
+that, should insist on reading Calderon, was funny enough to make his
+old sides ache. There were modern authors in plenty who must certainly
+write much better than an out-of-date fellow like that. He had books
+that he could lend me. He had friends from whom he could borrow. But
+nothing would please me but Calderon! Why under the fanciful moon
+should I set my heart on Calderon?
+
+"_Bueno!_" he cried at last, whisking the mirthful tears from his
+eyes. "_Vamos á ver!_ Let us go on and see!"
+
+We opened the classic volume at the Catholic Faust-drama, _El Mágico
+Prodigioso_, and began to read, soon passing into the great argument
+between Cipriano and Lucifer as to the nature of God. Our guest,
+sensitive to all impressions as he was, became immediately amazed and
+delighted.
+
+"But this is lofty!" he exclaimed. "This is sublime! Good, Cipriano,
+good! Now you have him! What will the devil say to that? _Vamos á
+ver!_"
+
+At the close of that tremendous scene he shut the book, fairly panting
+with excitement. But nevertheless there was a twinkle in his eye. He
+knew now why I craved this Calderon. He was evidently a religious
+writer, and women were all religious. It was an amiable feminine
+weakness, like the aversion to geography and arithmetic. But his
+indulgent chivalry rose to the occasion. Having learned my taste, such
+as it was, he would gratify it to the utmost.
+
+"If you would only come and see my library!" he proposed. "I have
+exactly the book there that will please you. I have not read it
+myself, but it is very large, with most beautiful pictures, and it
+tells these old stories about Lucifer and all that. I am sure it is
+just what you would like. Will you not do your humble servant the
+honor of coming to-morrow afternoon?"
+
+I ran over in my mind our engagements for the morrow. He mistook the
+cause of my hesitation.
+
+"Indeed you need not be afraid to come," he urged. "My house is as
+safe as a convent. That old wife of mine, too, will be sure to be
+somewhere about. And you can bring the silent señorita with you."
+
+I was aware of a slight convulsion in "the silent señorita." She could
+speak all the Spanish she chose, but she found the eccentricities of
+this visitor so disconcerting that she affected ignorance, and he
+supposed her mute presence at our interviews to be purely in deference
+to the Spanish proprieties.
+
+My youthful chaperon, much elated by this reversal of our natural
+positions, duly attended me the next day to our friend's surprisingly
+elegant home. He was forever crying poverty and telling us, with the
+tears that came to his old age as easily as the laughter, how the
+hardships of life had beaten out of him every ambition save hope to
+"gain the bread" until his death, but we found him luxuriously housed,
+and I was afterward informed that he was one of the richest men in the
+city.
+
+He ran with that wonderful sprightliness of his across the marbled
+court to meet us, and ceremoniously conducted us up the handsome
+staircase. He led us through all "our house," typically Andalusian,
+with statues and urns of blossoming trees set in the open patios, with
+Moorish arches and bright-hued tiles, shaded balconies, tapestried and
+curtained beds, _braseros_, and rocking-chairs, and in every room
+images and paintings of the saints, at which he made irreverent
+grimaces.
+
+There were family portraits, too, before three of which he broke down
+into weeping--the son who had died in the prime of manhood, the
+daughter lost in her fair maidenhood, and, where the stormy sobs shook
+him from head to foot, the Benjamin of his heart, a clear-eyed young
+officer who had fallen in the Cuban war. The tears were still
+streaming down the quivering old face when we turned silently
+away--for what word of comfort would Americans dare to speak?--and
+followed him to his study.
+
+He was of extravagant repute in his locality as a scholar and a man of
+letters, and his study was what a study ought to be,--well furnished
+with desk, pigeon-holes, all the tools of literary labor, and walled
+with books. Among these was an encyclopædia in which, to his frank
+astonishment, he found an article of fifteen pages on Calderon. The
+great volume we had come to see lay open on a reading stand. It was a
+Spanish Bible, with the Doré illustrations. I wanted to look at the
+title-page, but our eager host, proud to exhibit and explain, tossed
+over the leaves so fast that I had no opportunity.
+
+As he was racing through the Psalms, impatient because of their dearth
+of pictures, my eye was caught by the familiar passage, "As the hart
+panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after Thee, O God."
+
+With prompt curiosity, he popped down his white head, in its
+close-fitting skullcap, to see what I was noting, and instantly went
+off into an immoderate gust of laughter.
+
+"_Muy bien!_" he wheezed, as soon as he could recover anything like a
+voice. "But that is very cleverly put. He was a witty fellow who wrote
+that. Just so! Just so! The deer goes to the water because he means to
+get something for himself, and that is why the young men go into the
+priesthood, and why the women go to mass. It's all selfishness, is
+religion. But how well he says it!"
+
+"No, no!" I exclaimed, for once startled into protest. "He is saying
+that religion is the impulse of thirst."
+
+The incorrigible old worldling took this for another jest, and, as in
+gallantry bound, laughed harder at my sally than at poor King David's.
+
+"Excellent! Perfect! So it is! So it is! Religion is the impulse to
+fill one's own stomach. Just what I have always said! 'As the hart
+panteth after the water brooks'--ho, ho! I must try to remember that."
+
+His enthusiasm for Calderon soon kindled to a flame. As the plot
+thickened he ceased to be of the slightest help in any difficulties
+that the text might offer. In vain I would beseech him to clear up
+some troublesome passage.
+
+"Oh, never mind!" he would say, vexed at the interruption. "They
+didn't write very well in those old days. And I want to know which of
+her three suitors Justina took. Three at once! What a situation!
+_Vamos á ver!_ I hope it will be Cipriano."
+
+As the spell of Calderon's imagination passed more and more strongly
+upon him, this most sympathetic of readers quite accepted, for the
+time being, the poet's Catholic point of view, trembling for Cipriano
+and almost choking with agitated joy when Justina, calling in her
+extremity upon the name of God, put Lucifer to flight. But after we
+had read the drama to the end, through its final scene of triumphant
+martyrdom, he sat silent for several minutes, and then shook his head.
+
+"Not true; it is not true. There is no devil but the evil passions of
+humanity. And as for Cipriano's definition of God--it is good, yes; it
+is great, yes; but who can shut God into a definition? One might as
+well try to scoop up the ocean in a cocoanut shell. No! All religions
+are human fictions. We have come, nobody knows whence or why, into
+this paltry, foolish, sordid life, for most of us only a fight to gain
+the bread, and afterward--_Bueno!_ I am on the brink of the jump, and
+the priests have not frightened me yet. Afterward? _Vamos á ver!_"
+
+This man had heard of Protestantism simply as an ignorant notion of
+the lower classes. For the typical Spanish Protestant of to-day
+presents a striking contrast to the typical Spanish Protestant of the
+Reformation. When heresy first entered the Peninsula, it gained almost
+no footing among the common people, who supposed Luther to be another
+sort of devil and the Protestants a new variety of Jews or Moors; but
+the rank and learning of Spain, the youthful nobility, illustrious
+preachers and writers, officers and favorites of the Court, even men
+and women in whose veins flowed the blood royal, welcomed with ardor
+the wave that was surging over Europe. The very eminence of these
+heretics sealed their doom. The Inquisition could not miss such
+shining marks. The Holy Office did its work with abominable
+thoroughness. Apart from the countless multitudes whom it did to death
+in dungeon and torture-chamber, it burned more than thirty thousand of
+the most valuable citizens of Spain and drove forth from the Peninsula
+some three millions of Jews and Moors. The _autos de fe_ were
+festivals. Among the wedding pomps for the French bride of Philip II,
+a girl thirteen years old, was one of these horrible spectacles at
+Toledo. The holiday fires of Seville and Valladolid drank the most
+precious blood of Andalusia and Castile. Though Saragossa had a mind
+to Huguenot fuel; though Pamplona, on one festal day, heaped up a
+holocaust of ten thousand Jews; though Granada, Murcia, and Valencia
+whetted their cruel piety on the Moors who had made the southern
+provinces a garden of delight; yet in all these cities, as in Toledo,
+Logroño, and the rest, the Spanish stock itself was drained of its
+finest and most highly cultivated intelligence, its sincerest
+conscience, purest valor, its most original and independent thought.
+Spain has been paying the penalty ever since. Her history from Philip
+II has been a judgment day.
+
+No root of the Lutheran heresy survived in the Peninsula. The new
+Protestantism does not spring from the old. The blood of the Spanish
+martyrs was not the seed of the Spanish church. The Protestant of
+to-day is far removed, socially and politically, from the courtiers,
+marquises, knights of Santiago--those gallant cavaliers who were
+stripped upon the scaffold of their honorable decorations and clad in
+the yellow robe of infamy. This nineteenth-century Protestant may be a
+lawyer or a journalist, but by exception. Ordinarily he is a petty
+farmer, a small shop-keeper, mechanic, miner, day-laborer, of humble
+calling and of lowly life. In politics he is almost surely a
+republican. When the monarchy was overthrown, in '68, Protestantism
+was, for the moment, in favor, and hundreds of the triumphant party
+hastened to profess the reformed faith. With the return of a Roman
+Catholic court and perhaps upon the discovery that the new
+Christianity, too, has its burden and its yoke, many fell away.
+
+Yet Protestantism has now an assured footing in Spain. Protestant
+churches may be found in most of the important cities. There are some
+fifty foreign preachers and teachers in the field, aided by nearly
+eighty Spanish pastors and colporteurs. The number of Spanish
+communicants is between three and four thousand, the church attendance
+is reckoned at nine thousand, and there are five thousand Spanish
+children in the Protestant schools. Several centres have been
+established for the sale of Bibles and Protestant books, and six or
+seven Protestant periodicals are published and circulated. In answer
+to the continual Romish taunt that Protestantism is a war of sects, a
+house divided against itself, a Protestant Union was organized at
+Madrid in the spring of 1899. All, save two, of the fifteen missions,
+supported by various societies of Great Britain, Germany,
+Switzerland, and America, joined hands in this. Only the Plymouth
+Brethren and the Church of England held aloof.
+
+  [Illustration: A MILKMAN OF GRANADA]
+
+The Inquisition exists no longer. Religious liberty, even in Spain,
+has the support of law. Yet still the Spanish Protestant, this poor,
+plain Protestant of to-day, as obscure as those Galilean fishermen
+whom the Master called, is harassed by petty persecutions. Children
+sing insulting verses after him in the street, especially that pious
+ditty:--
+
+     "Get away with you, Protestants,
+         Out of our Catholic Spain,
+     That the Sacred Heart, the Sacred Heart,
+         May love our land again."
+
+He is jealously watched on the passing of "His Majesty the Wafer" and
+pursued with mud and spittings if he fails to do it homage. College
+boys rub charcoal over the front of his chapel and stone his
+schoolroom windows; work is refused him; promotion denied him; his
+rent is higher than his neighbor's, yet not his neighbor's family nor
+his landlord's cross his threshold. If scorn can burn, he feels the
+_auto de fe_.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+AN ANDALUSIAN TYPE
+
+     "'True,' quoth Sancho: 'but I have heard say there are more
+     friars in heaven than knights-errant.' 'It may be so,' replied
+     Don Quixote, 'because their number is much greater than that
+     of knights-errant.' 'And yet,' quoth Sancho, 'there are
+     abundance of the errant sort.' 'Abundance indeed,' answered
+     Don Quixote, 'but few who deserve the name of
+     knights.'"--CERVANTES: _Don Quixote_.
+
+
+It might have been in Seville, though it was not, that I met my most
+_simpático_ example of the Andalusian. He was of old Sierra stock,
+merry as the sunshine and gracious as the shadows. Huge of build and
+black as the blackest, he was as gentle as a great Newfoundland dog,
+until some flying spark of a word set the dark fires blazing in his
+eyes. This was no infrequent occurrence, for the travelling
+Englishman, as frank as he is patriotic, cannot comprehend the zest
+with which well-to-do Spaniards, even in time of war, escape military
+service by a money payment. Not the height and girth of our young
+giant, nor his cordial courtesy and winning playfulness, shielded him
+from the blunt question, "Why didn't you go over to Cuba, a great
+fellow like you, and fight for your flag?" His usual rejoinder was the
+eloquent Southern shrug of the shoulder, twist of the eyebrow, and
+waving lift of the hand, with the not easily answerable words, "And to
+what good?" But now and then the query came from such a source or was
+delivered with so keen a thrust that his guarded feeling outleaped
+reserve. The sarcasms and mockeries that then surged from him in a
+bitter torrent were directed chiefly against Spain, although the
+American eagle rarely went scot-free. "Ah, yes, it is a fine fowl,
+that! He has the far-seeing eye; he has the philanthropic beak and
+claw!" But it was the golden lion of Spain against which his harshest
+gibes were hurled--"_un animal doméstico_, that does not bite."
+
+No one of the party was a tithe as outspoken as our Spaniard himself
+in condemning the errors of the Spanish campaign or censuring the
+methods of the Spanish Government. If he turned angrily toward a
+criticism from a foreigner, it was only, in the second instant, to
+catch it up like a ball and toss it himself from one hand to the
+other--like a ball that burns the fingers.
+
+Such wrath can easily be the seamy side of love, and, in a way, the
+man's national pride was measured by his national shame; but always
+over these outbursts there brooded that something hopelessly resigned,
+drearily fatalistic, which seems to vitiate the Spanish indignation
+for any purposes of practical reform. To suggestions of sympathy he
+responded with a pathetic weariness of manner, this handsome young
+Hercules, so radiant with the joy of life, who, in his normal mood,
+sprinkled mirth and mischief from him as a big dog shakes off water
+drops.
+
+"What can one do? I am a Spaniard. I say it to myself a hundred times
+a day. I am a Spaniard, and I wish my country were worth the fighting
+for, worth the dying for. But is it? Is it worth the toothache? God
+knows the truth, and let it rest there. Oh, you need not tell me of
+its past. It was once the most glorious of nations. Spaniards were
+lords of the West. But--ah, I know, I know--Spain has never learned
+how to rule her colonies. He who sows brambles reaps thorns. The
+Church, too, has done much harm in Spain--not more harm than another.
+I am a Catholic, but as I see it, priests differ from other men only
+in this--in the café sit some bad men and many good, and in the choir
+kneel some good priests and many bad. The devil lurks behind the
+cross. But Spain will never give up her Church. It is burned in. You
+are a heretic, and like my figure, do you not? It is burned in. There
+is no hope for Spain but to sink her deep under the earth, and build a
+new Spain on top. And why do I not work for that new Spain? How may a
+man work? There is talk enough in Spain as it is. Most Spaniards talk
+and do no more. They go to the cafés and, when they have emptied their
+cups, they draw figures on the tables and they talk. That is all. The
+new Spain will never come. What should it be? Oh, I know better what
+it should not be. It should have no king. A republic--that is right.
+Perhaps not a republic precisely like America. It may be," and the
+melancholy sarcasm of the tone deepened, "there could be found
+something even better. But Spain will not find it. Spain will find
+nothing.
+
+"What can one do? I know Spain too well. Now, hear! I am acquainted
+with a _caballero_. I have been his friend ten years and more. But he
+has had the luck, not I. For, first, when we were at the university,
+he had a fortune left to him. He became betrothed to a señorita whom
+he loved better than his eyelashes. He travelled for his pleasure to
+Monte Carlo, and played his fortune all away in one week. He came back
+to Madrid, and went to one of the Ministers, to whom his father had in
+former days done a great service. My friend said: 'I am to marry. The
+lady expects to share the fortune which I have lost. My position is
+not honorable. I must have an opening, a chance to redeem myself, or I
+shall stand disgraced before her.' The Minister sent him to one of the
+Cuban custom-houses, and in two years he returned with great wealth.
+On his wedding journey he spent a night at Monte Carlo and gambled it
+away to the last _peseta_. A stranger had to lend him money to get
+home with his bride. Was he not ashamed and troubled? Ashamed? I do
+not know. But troubled? Yes, for he wanted to play longer. Every one
+is as God has made him, and very often worse. Again he went to the
+Minister, whose heart was softer than a ripe fig and who found him a
+post in the Philippines. This time he made a fortune much quicker than
+before, knowing better how to do unjustly, but a few weeks before the
+war he came home and lost it all again at Monte Carlo. And now he is
+horribly vexed, for it is another Minister, and, besides, there are no
+colonies to enrich him any more.
+
+"What use to care for Spain? No, no, no, no, no! Spain is a good
+country to leave--that is all. And you do well to travel in Spain.
+American ladies like change, and Spain is not America. Here you are
+not only in a different land, but in a different century. You can say,
+when you come out, that you have been journeying a hundred years ago."
+
+On another occasion one of those pleasant individuals who would, as
+the Spaniards say, "talk of a rope in the house of one who had been
+hanged," saw fit to entertain the dinner-table with anecdotes of
+Spanish cruelty.
+
+"But Spaniards are not cruel," protested our young blackamoor in his
+softest voice an hour later, stroking with one great hand the head of
+a child who nestled against his knee. "What did that English fellow
+mean? Why should any one think that Spaniards are cruel?"
+
+I ran over in mind a few of the frightful stories of Las Casas, that
+good Dominican friar who would not hold his peace when he saw the
+braining of Indian babies and roasting of Indian chiefs. I remembered
+how De Soto tossed his captives to the bloodhounds, and what
+atrocities were wrought in the tranquil realm of the Incas; I recalled
+the horrors of the Inquisition, but these things were of the past. So
+I answered, "Perhaps the bull-fights have done something to give
+foreigners that impression."
+
+Unlike many educated Spaniards who would rather attend the bull-fights
+than defend them, he squared his shoulders for an oration.
+
+"The bull-fights? But why? Bull-fights are not cruel--not more cruel
+than other sports in other countries. I have been told of prize-fights
+in America. I beg your pardon. I see by your look that you do not like
+them. And, in truth, I do not altogether like the bull-fights. The
+horses! They are blindfolded, and it is short, but I have seen--ah,
+yes! You would not wish to hear what I have seen. I have been often
+sorry for the horses. Yet some pain is necessary in everything, is it
+not? In nature, perhaps? In society, perhaps? Even, if you will pardon
+the illustration, in the deliverance of the Filipinos from Spanish
+tyranny?"
+
+I briefly suggested that there was no element of necessity in
+bull-fights.
+
+The waving hand apologized gently for dissent.
+
+"But, yes! The bulls are killed for food. That is what foreigners do
+not seem to understand. It may be ugly, but it is universal. To supply
+men with meat, to feed great cities with the flesh of beasts--it is
+not pleasant to think of that too closely. But how to help it? Do you
+not have slaughter-houses in America? These also we have in Spain. I
+have visited one. It seemed to me much worse than the bull-ring.
+Faugh! I did not like it. The cattle stood trembling, one behind
+another, waiting for the blow. I should not like to die like that. I
+would rather die in the wrath of battle like a _toro bravo_. Oh, it is
+not cruel. Do not think it. For these bulls feel no fear. It is fear
+that degrades. They may feel pain, but I doubt--I doubt. They feel the
+wildness of anger, and they charge and charge again until the
+_estocada_, the death stab. That is not so bad a way to die, is it?
+Any man would choose it rather than to stand in terror, bound and
+helpless, hearing the others fall under the axe and seeing his turn
+draw near. Yes, yes! The bull-ring rather than the slaughter-house for
+me!"
+
+This was a novel view of the case to the auditor, who ignominiously
+shifted her ground.
+
+"But what country uses the slaughter-house as a spectacle and a sport?
+It is one thing to take life for food, and another to make a holiday
+of the death struggle."
+
+Again that deprecatory waving of the hands.
+
+"I beg your pardon. I do not know how it is in America. Perhaps"
+[circumflex accent] "all is merciful and noble there. But when I was
+in England I saw something of the chase and of the autumn shooting. I
+saw a poor little fox hunted to the death. It was not for food. The
+dogs tore him. I saw wounded birds left in the cover to die. It was
+too much trouble to gather them all up. And the deer? Does not the
+stag suffer more in his flight than the bull in his struggle? I
+believe it. To run and run and run, always growing weaker, while the
+chase comes nearer--that is an agony. The rage of combat has no terror
+in it. I would not die like the deer, hunted down by packs of dogs and
+men--and ladies. I would die like the bull, hearing the cheers of the
+multitude."
+
+The big fellow bent over the baby that was dropping to sleep against
+his knee, and slipped the drowsy little body, deftly and tenderly, to
+a sofa. Such sweetness flooded the soft black eyes, as they were
+lifted from the child, that it was hard to imagine them sparkling with
+savage delight over the bloody scenes of the _corrida de toros_. I
+asked impulsively how long it was since he had seen a bull-fight.
+Brows and hands and shoulders were swift to express their appreciation
+of the bearings of the question, and the voice became very music in
+courteous acquiescence.
+
+"Ah, it is four years. Of course, I was much younger then. Yes, yes!
+It might not please me now. _Quien sabe?_ And yet--I beg your
+pardon--I think I shall go next Sunday in Madrid, on my way to Paris.
+It is so weary in London on the Sundays. It was always colder Sunday,
+and there was not even a café. There was nowhere to go. There was
+nothing to do. Why is that good? At the bull-fight one feels the joy
+of life. Is it more religious to sit dull and dismal by the fire? I
+had no use for the churches. Walking is not amusing, unless the sun
+shines and there is something gay to see. I do not like tea, and I do
+not care for reading. Spaniards like to laugh and be merry, and when
+there is nothing to laugh for, life is a heaviness. There is no
+laughter in a London Sunday. I hope Paris will be better, though I
+believe there are no bull-fights there as yet. You are not pleased
+with me, but let me tell you why I love the _corrida_. It is not for
+the horses, you remember. I have sometimes looked away. But why should
+I pity the bulls, when they are mad with battle? They do not pity
+themselves. They are glad in their fury, and I am glad in seeing it.
+But I am more glad in the activity and daring of the men. When they
+run risks, that is what makes me cheer. It is not that I would have
+them hurt. I am proud to find men brave. And I am excited and eager to
+see if they escape. Do you not understand? If you would go
+yourself--just once--no? Is it always no? Then let me tell you what is
+the best of all. It is to stand near the entrance and watch the people
+pass in, all dressed in their holiday clothes, and all with holiday
+faces. It is good and beautiful to see them--especially the ladies."
+
+The most attractive qualities of our young Spaniard were his mirth and
+courtesy. His merriment was so spontaneous and so buoyant that his
+grace of manner, always tempered to time and place and person, became
+the more apparent. His humor dwelt, nevertheless, in the borderlands
+of irony, and it was conceivable that the rubs of later life might
+enrich its pungency at the cost of its kindliness. He was excellent at
+games (not sports), especially the game of courtliness (not
+helpfulness). The letter was not posted, the message slipped his
+memory, the errand was done amiss, but his apologies were poetry. He
+made a pretty play of the slightest social intercourse. We would open
+our Baedeker at the map which we had already, in crossing Spain,
+unfolded some hundred times. He would spring as lightly to his feet as
+if his mighty bulk were made of feathers, and stand, half bowing,
+arching his eyebrows in appeal, spreading out his hands in offer of
+assistance, but not venturing to approach them toward the book until
+it was definitely tendered him. Then he would receive it with
+elaborate delicacy of touch, unfold the creased sheet with a score of
+varied little flourishes, and restore the volume with a whole fresh
+series of gesticulatory airs and graces. The next instant he would
+peep up from under his black lashes to detect the alloy of amusement
+in our gratitude, and drop his face flat upon the table in a boyish
+bubble of laughter, saying:--
+
+"Ah! But you think we Spaniards make much of little things. It is
+true. We are best at what is least useful."
+
+Light-hearted Andalusian though he was, he had full share of the
+energy and enterprise of young manhood. Like the dons of long ago, he
+was equipping himself for the great Western adventure. Despite his
+Spanish wrath against America, she had for him a persistent
+fascination. All his ambitions were bent on a business career in New
+York, the El Dorado of his imagination. But it was no longer, at the
+end of the nineteenth century, a case of leaping aboard a galleon and
+waving a Toledo blade in air. The commercial career demands, so he
+fancied, that its knight go forth armed cap-a-pie in the commercial
+tongues. Thus he had spent four years of his youth and half of his
+patrimony in London and Berlin, and now, after this hasty visit home,
+purposed to go to Paris, for a year or two of French. This unsettled
+life was little to his liking, but beyond gleamed the vision of a Wall
+Street fortune.
+
+Yet even now, at the outset of his task, a frequent lethargy would
+steal over his young vigor. It was curious to see, when the March wind
+blew chill or the French verbs waxed crabbed, how all his bearing lost
+its beauty. There was a central dignity that did not lapse, but the
+brightness and effectiveness were gone. His big body drooped and
+looked lumpish. His comely face was clouded by an animal sluggishness
+of expression. Foreign grimaces twisted across it, and something very
+like a grunt issued from beneath his cherished first mustache. His
+sarcasm became a little savage. He would sit for hours in a brooding
+fit, and, when an inexorable call to action came, obey it with a look
+of dreary patience older than his years. It was as if something
+inherent in his nature, independent of his will, weighed upon him and
+dragged him down. The Spain at which he gibed and from which he would
+have cut himself away was yet a millstone about his neck. He was in
+the heyday of his youth, progressive and determined, but the torpid
+blood of an aged people clogged his veins. Spain will never lose her
+hold on him, despite his strongest efforts. His children may be
+citizens of the great Republic, but he must be a foreigner to the end.
+He must wander a stranger in strange cities, puzzling his Spanish wits
+over alien phrases and fashions and ideals, unless, indeed, his spirit
+loses edge, and he drifts into chill apathy of disappointment on
+finding that his golden castles in America are wrought of that same
+old dream-stuff which used to be the monopoly of castles in Spain.
+
+But it is best to leave ill-boding to the gypsies. Good luck may take
+a liking to him, if only for the music of his laugh. For even if
+blithe heart and courtly bearing bring no high cash value in the
+modern business market, they may smooth the road to simple happiness.
+Moreover, a Spaniard dearly loves a game of chance, and at the worst,
+our fortune-seeker will have thrown his dice. His may seem to the
+Yankee onlooker but a losing play, and yet--who knows? "He who sings
+frightens away his ills." God's blessing sails in summer clouds as
+lightly as in costly pleasure yachts. Out of a shaft of sunshine, a
+cup of chocolate, and a cigarette, this Andalusian immigrant, though
+stranded in an East Side tenement, may get more luxury than can be
+purchased by a multi-millionaire.
+
+  [Illustration: A ROMAN WELL IN RONDA]
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+A BULL-FIGHT
+
+     "I wish no living thing to suffer pain."--SHELLEY: _Prometheus
+       Unbound_.
+
+
+From our first crossing of the Pyrenees we were impressed, even beyond
+our expectation, with the Spanish passion for the bull-fight. The more
+cultivated Spaniards, to be sure, are usually unwilling to admit to a
+foreigner their pleasure in the pastime. "It is brutal," said a young
+physician of Madrid, as we discussed it. "It is a very painful thing
+to see, certainly. I go, myself, only two or three times a year, when
+the proceeds are to be devoted to some religious object--a charity or
+other holy work."
+
+No sight is more common in streets and parks than that of a group of
+boys playing _al toro_--one urchin charging about with sticks fastened
+to his shoulders for horns, or with a pasteboard bull's head pulled
+over his ears, and others waving scarlet cloths and brandishing
+improvised swords and lances. It is said that in fierce Valencia
+youths have sometimes carried on this sport with knives for horns and
+swords, the spectators relishing the bloodshed too well to interfere.
+Not easily do such lads as these forgive the little king for crying,
+like the sensitive child he is, the first time he was taken to the
+bull-ring.
+
+The _corridas de toros_, although denounced by some of the chief
+voices in Spain, are held almost a national shibboleth. Loyal
+supporters of the queen regent will add to their praises the sigh, "If
+only she loved the bull-fight!" Cavaliers and ladies fair reserve
+their choicest attire to grace these barbarities. It is a common
+saying that a Spaniard will sell his shirt to buy a ticket to the
+bull-ring, but whatever the deficiencies of the inner costume, the
+dress that meets the eye is brave in the extreme. It is recently
+becoming the fashion for _caballeros_, especially in the north of
+Spain, to discard those very fetching cloaks with the vivid
+linings--cloaks in which Spaniards muffle their faces to the eyebrows
+as they tread the echoing streets of cities founded some thousand or
+fifteen hundred years ago. But for a good old Spanish bull-fight, the
+good old Spanish costumes are out in force, the bright-hued _capas_
+and broad _sombreros_, and for the ladies, who also are beginning to
+discard the customary black mantilla for Parisian headgear, the
+exquisite white mantillas of early times and the largest and most
+richly decorated fans.
+
+It is in such places as the grim Roman amphitheatre of Italica, whose
+grass-grown arena has flowed so red with martyrdoms of men and beasts,
+that one despairs most of Spanish ability to give up the bull-fight.
+It is in the air, in the soil, in the blood; a national institution,
+an hereditary rage. "But it is the link that holds your country bound
+to barbarism. The rest of the world is on the forward move. I tell
+you, the continuance of the bull-fight means the ruin of Spain," urged
+a gigantic young German, in our hearing, on his Spanish friend. The
+slight figure of the Madrileño shook with anger. "And I tell _you_" he
+choked, "that Spain would rather perish with the bull-fight than
+survive without it." _Isabel la Católica_, who earnestly strove to
+put down these savage contests, wrote at last to her Father Confessor
+that the task was too hard for her. The "Catholic Kings" could take
+Granada, unify Spain, establish the Inquisition, expel Moors and Jews,
+and open the Americas; but they could not abolish bull-fighting. Nor
+was Pius V, with his denial of Christian burial to all who fell in the
+arena, and his excommunication for princes who permitted _corridas de
+toros_ in their dominions, more successful. The papal bull, like the
+bulls of flesh and blood, was inevitably overthrown.
+
+Spanish legend likes to name the Cid as the first _torero_.
+
+     "Troth it goodly was and pleasant
+       To behold him at their head,
+     All in mail on Bavieca,
+       And to hear the words he said."
+
+In mediæval times the sport was not without chivalric features.
+Knights fought for honor, where professionals now fight for _pesetas_.
+When the great Charles killed a bull with his own lance in honor of
+the birth of Philip II, the favor of the Austrian dynasty was secured.
+The Bourbons looked on the sport more coldly, but as royalty and
+nobility withdrew, the people pressed to the fore. Out of the hardy
+Spanish multitude rose a series of masters,--Romero the shoemaker,
+who, in general, gave to the art its modern form; Martincho the
+shepherd, who, seated in a chair with his feet bound, would await the
+charging brute; Cándido, who would face the bull in full career and
+escape by leaping to its forehead and over its back; Costillares, who
+invented an ingenious way of getting in the death-stroke; the famous
+Pepe Hillo, who, like Cándido, perished in the ring; a second Romero,
+said to have killed five thousand six hundred bulls; Montés the
+brick-layer, and a bloody band of followers. Andalusia is--alas!--the
+classic soil of the bull-fight, as every peasant knows, and Seville
+the top of Andalusia.
+
+     "I have a handsome lover,
+         Too bold to fear the Devil,
+     And he's the best _torero_
+         In all the town of Seville."
+
+The extravagance of the popular enthusiasm for these _fiestas de
+toros_ is often ridiculed on the stage, where dramas dealing with
+bull-fighting, especially if they bring in the heroes of the arena,
+Pepe Hillo, Romero, Costillares, are sure to take. One _zarzuela_
+represents a rheumatic old _aficionado_, or devotee of the sport,
+trying, with ludicrous results, to screw his courage to the point of
+facing the bull. Another spends its fun on a Madrid barber, who is
+likewise a brain-turned patron of the ring. Disregarding the shrill
+protests of his wife, he lavishes all his time, love, and money on the
+_corridas_ and encourages his daughter's _novio_, an honest young
+paper-hanger, to throw over his trade and learn to _torear_. After two
+years of the provincial arenas, the aspirant, nicknamed in the ring
+The Baby, has nothing but torn clothes and bruises to show for his
+career, and his sweetheart, eager to recall him from the hazardous
+profession, vows a waxen bull, large as life, to the Virgin, in case
+he returns to papering, with its humble security and its regularity of
+wages. Mary hears. On that great occasion, The Baby's début at Madrid,
+the barber, who has just been lucky in the lottery, rents for him a
+gorgeous suit of second-hand finery, but in the _Plaza de Toros_ not
+even a rose-and-silver jacket can shield a quaking heart. The Baby is
+a coward born, and from the first rush of the first bull comes off
+with a bloody coxcomb, crying out his shame on the shoulder of his
+Pilar, who shall henceforth have him all her own.
+
+The little artist and I went into Spain with the firm determination
+not to patronize the bull-fight. Half our resolution we kept,--her
+half. Wherever we turned we encountered suggestions of the _corrida_.
+Spanish newspapers, even the most serious, devote columns to _Los
+Toros_. Bull-fighting has its special publications, as _El Toril_ and
+_El Toreo Cómico_, and its special dialect. On the morning after a
+holy day the newspapers seem actually smeared with the blood of
+beasts. In the bull-fight season, from Easter to All Saints,
+_corridas_ are held every Sunday in all the cities of southern and
+central Spain, while the smaller towns and villages butcher as many
+bulls as they can possibly afford. The May and June that I passed in
+the capital gave me a peculiar abhorrence of the Madrid Sunday,--that
+feverish excitement everywhere; the rattle of all those extra
+omnibuses and cars with their red-tasselled mules in full gallop for
+the _Plaza de Toros_; that sense of furious struggle and mortal agony
+hanging over the city all through the slow, hot afternoon; those
+gaping crowds pressing to greet the _toreros_, a gaudy-suited company,
+on their triumphal return in open carriages; that eager discussion of
+the day's tragedy at every street-corner and from seat to seat along
+the _paseos_, even at our own dainty dinner table and on our own
+balconies under the rebuking stars. At this strange Sabbath service
+the Infanta Isabel, whose mother's birth was celebrated by the
+slaying of ninety-nine bulls, is a regular attendant, occupying the
+royal box and wearing the national colors. A French bull-fighter,
+visiting the Spanish capital, was invited by the Infanta to an
+audience and presented with a diamond pin. Not even the public
+mourning for Castelar could induce Madrid to forego the _corrida_ on
+that Sunday just before his burial. Past the very senate-house where
+his body lay in state rolled the aristocratic landaus, whose ladies
+displayed the gala-wear of white mantillas.
+
+But the Sundays were not enough. Every Catholic feast-day called for
+its sacrifice. Granada could not do fitting honor to Corpus Christi
+with less than three "_magnificas corridas_." The royal saint of
+Aranjuez, Fernando, must have his pious birthday kept by an orgy of
+blood. At the _fiesta_ of Christ's Ascension all Spain was busy
+staining his earth with the life-stream of His creatures. Valladolid
+was, indeed, ashamed to have torn to death only seven horses, but
+Segovia rejoiced in an expert who sat at his work and killed his bulls
+with drawing-room ease. Bordeaux improved the occasion, with aid of
+two celebrated Spanish _espadas_, by opening a French _Plaza de
+Toros_, and Valencia had the excitement of sending to the infirmary
+one _torero_ with a broken leg and another with a crushed foot. Such
+accidents are by no means uncommon. A _matador_ was mortally wounded
+in the Valencia ring that summer, a _banderillero_ was trampled at the
+Escorial, and those favorite stabbers, Reverte and Bombita, were
+themselves stabbed by avenging horns.
+
+If there is a temporary dearth of saint days, Spanish ingenuity will
+nevertheless find excuse for _corridas_. Bulls must bleed for holy
+charity,--for hospitals, foundling asylums, the families of workmen
+out on strike. If the French squadron is at Cadiz, hospitality demands
+a bull-fight. In the interests of popular education, an historical
+_corrida_ was arranged, with instructed _toreros_ to display the
+special styles of bull-killing that have prevailed from the Cid to
+Guerrita. Again, as a zoölogical by-play, an elephant was pitted
+against the bulls. This, too, had precedent, for did not Philip IV
+once keep his birthday by turning in among the horned herd a lion, a
+tiger, a camel, and a bear, "all Noah's ark and Æsop's fables"? A bull
+of Xarama vanquished them every one and received the gracious reward
+of being shot dead by Philip himself.
+
+It was on a Wednesday afternoon, at one of the three grand _corridas_
+of the Seville _Feria_, that I became an accomplice in this Spanish
+crime. Our friends in Seville, people of cultivation and liberal
+views, had declared from the first that we could have no conception of
+Spanish life and character without sharing in the national _fiesta_.
+"We ourselves are not enthusiasts," they said. "In fact, we disapprove
+the bull-fight. We regard it as demoralizing to the community at
+large. It is, nevertheless, a thing scientific, artistic, heroic,
+_Spanish_. Besides, a large portion of the proceeds goes to charity.
+We do not attend the _corridas_, except now and then, especially when
+we have foreign guests who wish to see them. Before going they all
+regard bull-fighting as you do, as an atrocity, a barbarity, but
+invariably they return from the _Plaza de Toros_ filled with delight
+and admiration. They say their previous ideas were all wrong, that it
+is a noble and splendid spectacle, that they want to see it again and
+again, that they cannot be too grateful to us for having delivered
+them from prejudice."
+
+I winced at the word. I have a prejudice against being prejudiced, and
+to the bull-fight I went.
+
+My yielding came too late for securing places in a box or in any part
+of the house from which one can make exit during the performance. Our
+gory-looking tickets admitted us to the uppermost row of high,
+whitewashed, stone seats of the circus proper, where we were soon
+inextricably wedged in by the human mass that formed around and below
+us. The hour of waiting passed merrily enough. The open amphitheatre,
+jammed to its full capacity of fourteen thousand, lay half in
+brilliant sunlight and half in creeping shadow. Above us arched the
+glowing blue sky of Seville, pricked by the rosy Giralda, and from
+time to time a strong-winged bird flew over. The great arena, strewn
+with yellow sand, was enclosed by a dark red barrier of wood, about
+the height of a man. This was encircled, at a little distance, by a
+more secure and higher wall of stone. The concourse was largely
+composed of men, both roughs and gentles, but there was no lack of
+ladies, elegantly dressed, nor of children. Two sweet little girls in
+white-feathered hats were just in front of us, dancing up and down to
+relieve the thrills of expectancy. White mantillas, pinned with
+jewels, bent from the boxes, while the daughters of the people dazzled
+the eye with their festival display of Manila shawls, some pure white,
+some with colored figures on a white ground or a black, and some a
+rainbow maze of capricious needle-work. The rich-hued blossoms of
+Andalusia were worn in the hair and on the breast. The sunny side of
+the circus was brightly dotted by parasols, orange, green, vermilion,
+and fans in all the cardinal colors twinkled like a shivered
+kaleidoscope. The men's black eyes glittered under those broad
+_sombreros_, white or drab, while they puffed their cigarettes with
+unwonted energy, scattering the ashes in soft gray showers over their
+neighbors on the seats below. The tumult of voices had a keener note
+of excitement than I had yet heard in Spain, and was so loud and
+insistent as often to drown the clashing music of the band. The cries
+of various venders swelled the mighty volume of noise. Water-sellers
+in vivid blouses and sashes, a red handkerchief twisted around the
+neck, on the left shoulder a cushion of folded carpeting for the
+shapely, yellow-brown jar, and a smart tin tray, holding two glasses,
+corded to the belt, went pushing through the throng. Criers of
+oranges, newspapers, crabs, and cockles, almond cakes, fans, and
+photographs of the _toreros_, strove with all the might of their lungs
+against the universal uproar.
+
+     "Crece el entusiasmo;
+     Crece la alegría;
+     Todo es algazara;
+     Todo es confusión."
+
+A tempest of applause marked the entrance in a box above of a popular
+_prima donna_, who draped a resplendent carmine scarf over the railing
+before her seat. Immediately the complete circuit of the rail was
+ablaze with color, cloaks and shawls instantly converting themselves
+into tapestry.
+
+At last two attendants entered the arena, walked up to a hydrant in
+the centre, fastened on a hose, and watered the great circle. They
+pulled out the hydrant and raked sand over the hole. Simple as these
+actions were, a dreadful quiet fell on all the circus.
+
+A trumpet blared. Mounted _alguaciles_, or police, tricked out in
+ancient Spanish costume, on blue saddles, and with tall blue plumes in
+their hats, rode in and cleared the arena of all stragglers. A door
+opened, and forth issued the full circus troupe, making a fine show of
+filigree, and urging their wretched old nags to a last moment of
+equine pride and spirit. Amid roars of welcome, they flaunted across
+the sanded enclosure and saluted the presiding officer. He dropped the
+key of the _toril_, that dark series of cells into which the bulls had
+been driven some hours before. An _alguacil_ caught the key and handed
+it to the _torilero_, who ran with it toward a second door, ominously
+surmounted by a great bull's head. Then there was a twinkling of the
+pink stockings and black sandals. Most of the gay company leaped the
+barrier, and even the _chulos_ who remained in the ring placed
+themselves within convenient distance of the rail. Some of the
+_picadores_ galloped out, but a few awaited the coming charge, their
+long pikes in rest. The door on which all eyes were bent flew open,
+and a bellowing red bull rushed in. The fierce, bloodthirsty, horrible
+yell that greeted him checked his impetuous onset. For a few seconds
+the creature stood stock-still, glaring at the scene. Heaven knows
+what he thought of us. He had had five perfect years of life on the
+banks of the Guadalquivír,--one baby year by his mother's side, one
+year of sportive roving with his mates, and then had come the trial of
+his valor. He had found all the herdsmen gathered at the ranch one
+morning, and, nevertheless, flattered himself that he had evaded those
+hateful pikes, _garrochas_, that were always goading him back when he
+would sally out to explore the great green world. At all events, here
+he was scampering alone across the plain. But promptly two horsemen
+were at his heels, and one of these, planting a blunt _garrocha_ on
+his flank, rolled the youngster over. Up again, panting with surprise
+and indignation, he felt a homesick impulse to get back to the herd,
+but the second horseman was full in his path. So much the worse for
+the horseman! The mettlesome young bull lowered his horns and charged
+the obstacle, only to be thrown back with a smarting shoulder. If he
+had yielded then, his would have been the quiet yoke and the long,
+dull life of labor, but he justified his breed; he charged anew, and
+so proved himself worthy of the arena. Three more years of the deep,
+green river-reeds and the sweet Andalusian sunshine, three years of
+free, far range and glad companionship, and then the end. His days had
+been exempt from burden only to save his wild young strength for the
+final tragedy. One summer morning those traitors known as decoy-oxen,
+with bells about the neck, came trotting into the herd. The noble
+bulls, now at their best hour of life, the glory of their kind,
+welcomed these cunning guests with frank delight and interest, and
+were easily induced to follow them and their tinkling bells across the
+rich pastures, along rough country roads, even to the city itself and
+the fatal _Plaza de Toros_. The herdsmen with their ready pikes
+galloped behind the drove, and everywhere along the way peasants and
+townsfolk would fall in for a mile or two to help in urging the
+excited animals onward to their cruel doom.
+
+In that strange, maddening sea of faces, that hubbub of hostile
+voices, the bull, as soon as his blinking eyes had effected the change
+from the darkness of the _toril_ to the glaring light and gaudy
+colors of the coliseum, caught sight of a horseman with the familiar
+pike. Here was something that he recognized and hated. Lowering his
+head, the fiery brute dashed with a bellow at that tinselled figure.
+Ah, the pike had never been so sharp before! It went deep into his
+shoulder, but could not hold him back. He plunged his horns, those
+mighty spears, into the body of the helpless, blindfolded horse, which
+the _picador_, whose jacket was well padded and whose legs were cased
+in iron, deliberately offered to his wrath. The poor horse shrieked,
+plunged, reeled, and fell, the _chulos_ deftly dragging away the
+armored rider, while the bull ripped and trampled that quivering
+carcass, for whose torment no man cared, until it was a crimson,
+formless heap.
+
+Such sickness swept over me that I did not know what followed. When I
+looked again, two bloody masses that had once been horses disfigured
+the arena, and the bull, stuck all over like a hedge-hog with
+derisive, many-colored darts, had gone down under Guerrita's steel.
+
+My friends, observing with concern that I was not enjoying myself as
+much as they had promised, tried to divert my attention to the
+technical features of their ghastly game. It was really, they
+explained, a drama in three acts. It is the part of the mounted
+_picador_ to draw off the first rage and vigor of the bull, weakening
+him, but not slaying him, by successive wounds. Then the jaunty
+_banderilleros_, the streamers of whose darts must correspond in color
+with their costumes, supply a picturesque and amusing element, a comic
+interlude. Finally an _espada_, or _matador_, advances alone to
+despatch the tortured creature. The death-blow can be dealt only in
+one of several fashions, established by rule and precedent, and the
+_espada_ who is startled into an unprofessional thrust reaps a bitter
+harvest of scoffs and hisses.
+
+A team of gayly-caparisoned mules with jingling bells had meanwhile
+trundled away the mangled bodies of the slaughtered animals, fresh
+sand had been thrown over the places slippery with blood, and the band
+pealed the entrance of the second bull. This was a demon, black as a
+coal, with a marvellous pride and spirit that availed him nothing.
+Horse after horse crashed down before his furious rushes, while the
+circus, drunk with glee, shouted for more victims and more and more.
+It was a massacre. At last our hideous greed was glutted, and the
+_banderilleros_ took their turn in baiting the now enfeebled but
+undaunted bull. Wildly he shook himself, the fore half of his body
+already a flood of crimson, to throw off the ignominy of those
+stinging darts. The _chulos_ fretted and fooled him with their waving
+cloaks of red and yellow, till at last the creature grew hushed and
+sullen. A strain of music announced that the _matador_ Fuentes was
+asking beneath the president's box permission to kill the bull. For my
+part, I gave the bull permission to kill the man. Fuentes, all pranked
+out in gray and gold, holding his keen blade behind him and
+flourishing a scarlet square of cloth, swinging from a rod, the
+_muleta_, advanced upon the brute. That bleeding body shook with a new
+access of rage, and the other _espadas_ drew near and stood at watch.
+But even before a blow was struck the splendid, murdered creature sank
+to his knees, staggered up once more, sank again with crimson foam
+upon his mouth, and the music clashed jubilantly while Fuentes drove
+the weapon home. And again the team of mules, with foolish tossing of
+their bright-ribboned heads, jerked and jolted their dead kindred off
+the scene.
+
+The third bull galloped in with a roar that was heard far beyond the
+_Plaza_ and gored his first two horses so promptly and so frightfully
+that, while the hapless beasts still struggled in their agony, the
+amphitheatre howled with delirious joy. Several _capas_ were caught
+away on those swift, effective horns, and one _picador_ was hurt. But
+the rain of darts teased and bewildered the bull to the point of
+stupidity, although he was dangerous yet.
+
+     "Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil;
+     And the dun hide glows, as if on fire, as he paws to the turmoil.
+     His eyes are jet, and they are set in crystal rings of snow;
+     But now they stare with one red glare of brass upon the foe."
+
+It was the turn of Bombita, a dandy in dark-green suit with silver
+trimmings; but his comrades, pale and intent, stood not far off and
+from time to time, by irritating passes, drew the bull's wrath upon
+themselves, wearying him ever more and more, until at last Bombita had
+his chance to plant a telling blow.
+
+Would it never end? Again the fatal door swung open, and the fourth
+bull bounded in to play his tragic rôle. He was of choicest pedigree,
+but the utter strangeness of the scene turned his taurine wits. He
+made distracted and aimless rushes hither and thither, unheeding the
+provocations of the horsemen, until he came upon the spot drenched
+with his predecessor's life-blood. He pawed away the hasty covering of
+sand, sniffed at that ominous stain, and then, throwing up his head
+with a strange bellow, bolted back to the door by which he had
+entered, and turned tail to the arena. The fourteen thousand, crazy
+with rage, sprang to their feet, shook their fists, called him _cow_.
+The _chulos_ brandished their cloaks about his horns; men leaned over
+from the barrier and prodded him with staffs. Finally, in desperation,
+he turned on the nearest horse, rent it and bore it down. The
+_picador_, once set up by the _chulos_ upon his stiff, iron-cased
+legs, his yellow finery streaked with red from his lacerated horse,
+tugged savagely at the bridle to force that dying creature to a second
+stand. One attendant wrenched it by the tail, another beat it
+viciously over the face; the all-enduring beast, his entrails swinging
+from a crimson gash, struggled to his feet. The _picador_ mounted,
+drove in the spurs, and the horse, rocking and pitching, accomplished
+a few blind paces toward those dripping horns that horribly awaited
+him. But to the amazement and scandal of the _aficionados_, the circus
+raised a cry of protest, and the discomfited rider sprang down in the
+very moment when his horse fell to rise no more. A _chulo_, at his
+leisurely convenience, quieted those kicking hoofs by a stab,--the one
+drop of mercy in that ocean of human outrage.
+
+Straw-colored darts, wine-colored darts, sky-colored darts, were
+pricking the bull to frenzy. I wished he had any half-dozen of his
+enemies in a clear pasture. Those glittering dragon-flies were always
+just out of reach, but he stumbled on the sodden shape of the unhappy
+horse and tossed it again and again, making the poor carcass fling up
+its head and arch its neck in ghastly mockery of life. Cowardice
+avails a bull as little as courage. This sorry fighter had been deeply
+pierced by the _garrochas_, and now, as he galloped clumsily about
+the arena, in unavailing efforts to escape from his tormentors, his
+violent, foolish plunges made the dark blood flow the faster. It was
+Guerrita, Guerrita the adored, Guerrita in gold-laced jacket and
+violet trousers, who struck the ultimate blow, and so cleverly that
+_sombreros_ and cigarettes, oranges and pocket-flasks, came raining,
+amid furies of applause, into the arena. This was such a proud moment
+as he had dreamed of long ago in the Cordova slaughter-house, when,
+the little son of the slaughter-house porter, he had stolen from his
+bed at midnight to play _al toro_ with the calves, and then and there
+had solemnly dedicated himself to the glorious profession. Now the
+master of his art and the idol of all Spain, easily making his
+seventy-five thousand dollars a year, earning, in fact, three thousand
+on that single afternoon, Guerrita little foresaw that with the coming
+autumn he should go on pilgrimage to _La Virgen del Pilar_, and before
+her beloved shrine at Saragossa cut off his bull-fighter's pigtail and
+renounce the ring.
+
+The fifth bull was black as ebony. He dashed fearlessly into the
+arena, charged and wheeled and tossed his horns in the splendor of his
+strength, sending every red-vested _chulo_ scrambling over the wall.
+Then he backed to the middle of the sanded circle, snorting and pawing
+the earth. Another instant, and the nearest horse and rider went
+crashing against the barrier. The _picador_, with a bruised face,
+forced up the gasping horse, mounted and rode it, the beast treading
+out its entrails as it went, to meet a second charge. But the swaying
+horse fell dead before it reached those lowered horns again. The next
+_picador_, too, went down heavily under his jade and received an
+awkward sprain. He mounted once more, to show that he could, and the
+circus cheered him, but his horse, torn to death, could not bear his
+weight. He gave it an angry push with the foot as he left it writhing
+in its life-blood. This whirlwind of a bull, who shook off all but one
+of the _banderillas_, mortified even the _matadores_. Disregarding the
+red rag, he rushed at Fuentes himself. The nimble _torero_ leapt
+aside, but the bull's horn struck his sword and sent it spinning half
+across the arena. His comrades immediately ran, with waving _capas_
+and bright steel, to his aid, but that too intelligent bull, fighting
+for his life, kept his foes at bay until the circus hissed with
+impatience. The _toreros_, visibly nettled, gathered closer and
+closer, but had to play that death-game cautiously. This bull was
+dangerous. The coliseum found him tedious. He took too long in dying.
+Stabbed again and again and again, he yet agonized to his feet and
+shook those crimsoned horns at his tormentors, who still hung back. It
+really was dull. The _matadores_ buzzed about him, worrying his dying
+sight, but he stood sullen in their midst, refusing the charges to
+which they tempted him, guarding his last drops of strength, and,
+cardinal offence in a _toro_, holding his head too high for the
+professional stroke. His vital force was ebbing. Red foam dripped from
+his mouth. That weary hoof no longer pawed the earth. The people
+shouted insults even to their pet Guerrita, but Guerrita, like the
+rest, stood baffled. At last that formidable figure, no longer black,
+but a red glaze of blood and sweat and foam, fell in a sudden
+convulsion. Then his valiant murderers sprang upon him, the stabs came
+thick and fast, and the jingling mule-team pranced in to form his
+funeral cortège.
+
+One more,--the sixth. I was long past indignation, past any acuteness
+of pain, simply sickened through body and soul and unutterably
+wearied with this hideous monotony of slaughter. The last bull, a
+white star shining on his black forehead, tore into the arena, raced
+all about the circle, and struck with amazing rapidity wherever he saw
+a foe. Three horses were down, were up again, and were forced, all
+with trailing intestines, to a second charge. The bull flashed like a
+thunderbolt from one to another, rending and digging with his savage
+horns, until three mangled bodies writhed on the reddened sand, and
+stabbers watched their chances to run forward and quiet with the knife
+the horrible beating of those hoofs in air. The circus yelled delight.
+It had all been the work of a moment,--a brave bull, a great
+sensation! For the performers it was rather too much of a good thing.
+Those disembowelled carcasses cluttered up the arena. The scattered
+entrails were slippery under foot. The dart-throwers hastened to the
+next act of the tragedy. Theirs was a subtlety too much for the
+fury-fuddled wits of that mighty, blundering brute. He galloped to and
+fro, spending his strength in useless charges and, a score of times,
+ignoring the men to hook wildly at their brandished strips of colored
+cloth. The darts had been planted and he was losing blood. The
+_matador_ went to his work, but the uncivil bull did not make it easy
+for him. Bombita could not get in a handsome blow. The house began to
+hoot and taunt. A stentorian voice called to him to "kill that bull
+to-morrow." Exasperated by the laughter that greeted this sally,
+Bombita drove his Toledo blade to its mark. While the final scene of
+general stabbing was going on, boys, men, even women vaulted into the
+arena, played over again with one another the more memorable
+incidents, ran to inspect those shapeless carcasses of what God
+created horses, and escorted the funeral train of the bull, one
+small boy riding in gleeful triumph on top of the great black body,
+harmless and still at last. As we passed out by a hallway where the
+dead animals had been dragged, we had to pick our way through pools of
+blood and clots of entrails. Thus by the road of the shambles we came
+forth from hell.
+
+  [Illustration: THE GIRALDA]
+
+"I do not understand at all," sincerely protested my Spanish host,
+disconcerted by the continued nausea and horror of red dreams which,
+justly enough, pursued me for weeks after. "It was a very favorable
+_corrida_ for a beginner,--no serious accident, no use of the
+fire-darts, no houghing of the bull with the demi-lune, nothing
+objectionable. And, after all, animals are only animals; they are not
+Christians."
+
+"Who were the Christians in that circus?" I asked. "How could devils
+have been worse than we?"
+
+He half glanced toward the morning paper but was too kindly to speak
+his thought. It was not necessary. I had read the paper, which gave
+half a column to a detailed account of a recent lynching, with
+torture, in the United States.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+GYPSIES
+
+     "'Life is sweet, brother.'
+
+     "'Do you think so?'
+
+     "'Think so!--There's night and day, brother, both sweet
+     things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things;
+     there's likewise a wind on the heath. Life is very sweet,
+     brother; who would wish to die?'
+
+     "'I would wish to die.'
+
+     "'You talk like a gorgio--which is the same as talking like a
+     fool--were you a Rommany Chal you would talk wiser. Wish to
+     die, indeed!--A Rommany Chal would wish to live forever!'
+
+     "'In sickness, Jasper?'
+
+     "'There's the sun and stars, brother.'
+
+     "'In blindness, Jasper?'
+
+     "'There's the wind on the heath, brother; if I could only feel
+     that, I would gladly live forever. _Dosta_, we'll now go to
+     the tents and put on the gloves; and I'll try to make you feel
+     what a sweet thing it is to be alive, brother!'"
+                                                --GEORGE BORROW.
+
+
+No foreigner has known the Zingali better than George Borrow, the
+linguistic Englishman, who could speak Rommany so well that gypsies
+all over Europe took him for a brother. In the employ of the English
+Bible Society, he spent some five adventurous years in Spain,
+wandering through the wilds and sharing the life of shepherds,
+muleteers, even the fierce _gitanos_. As he found the Spanish gypsies
+half a century ago, so, in essentials, are they still--the men
+jockeys, tinkers, and blacksmiths, the women fortune tellers and
+dancers, the children the most shameless little beggars of all the
+Peninsula. Yet there has been an improvement.
+
+The _gitanos_ are not such ruffians as of old, nor even such arrant
+thieves, although it would still be unwise to trust them within call
+of temptation.
+
+     "There runs a swine down yonder hill,
+       As fast as e'er he can,
+     And as he runs he crieth still,
+       'Come, steal me, Gypsyman.'"
+
+Still more compromising is the Christmas carol:--
+
+     "Into the porch of Bethlehem
+         Have crept the gypsies wild,
+     And they have stolen the swaddling clothes
+         Of the new-born Holy Child.
+
+     "Oh, those swarthy gypsies!
+         What won't the rascals dare?
+     They have not left the Christ Child
+         A single shred to wear."
+
+There are wealthy gypsies, whose wives and daughters go arrayed with
+the utmost elegance of fashion, in several Spanish cities. Seville has
+her gypsy lawyer, but her gypsy bull-fighter, who died two years ago,
+was held to reflect even greater credit on the parent stock.
+
+By law the gypsies are now established as Spaniards, with full claim
+to Spanish rights and privileges--_Nuevos Castellanos_, as they have
+been called since the day when Spain bethought her of these Ishmaels
+as "food for powder" and subjected them to the regular military
+draft. Even in Granada, where the gypsy community still lives in
+semi-barbarism, there are hopeful signs. The _gitanos_ drive a sharp
+trade in donkeys, but their forge fires, gleaming far up the Albaicín
+in the evening, testify to their industry. The recent opening by the
+municipality of schools for the gypsy children has already wrought a
+marked change for the better. Some half-dozen dirty little palms,
+outstretched for _cinco centimos_, pester the stranger to-day where
+scores used to torment him, and the mothers take pride in the literary
+accomplishments of their tawny broods. On one occasion, when, having,
+as the Spanish say, "clean pockets," I firmly declined to see a small
+gypsy girl dance or hear her sing, the mother assured me, as a last
+greedy expedient, that "the child could pray."
+
+On the Alhambra hill the gypsies, who scent tourists from afar and
+troop thither, on the track of newly arrived parties, like wolves to
+their banquet, are picturesque figures enough, the men in peaked hats,
+spangled jackets, and sashes of red silk, the women with bright
+handkerchiefs bound over their raven hair, large silver earrings, gay
+bodices, and short, flounced petticoats.
+
+There is one old _gitano_, in resplendent attire, who haunts the
+Alhambra doors and introduces himself to visitors, with bows queerly
+compounded of condescension and supplication, as the King of the
+Gypsies, modestly offering his photograph for a _peseta_. If you turn
+to your attendant Spaniard and ask, _sotto voce_, "But is this truly
+the Gypsy King?" you will receive a prompt affirmative, while the
+quick-witted old masquerader strikes a royal attitude, rolls his eyes
+prodigiously, and twirls his three-cornered hat at arm's length above
+his head, until its tinsel ornaments sparkle like crown jewels. But no
+sooner is his Majesty well out of hearing than your guide hastens to
+eat his own words. "No, no, no! He is not the King of the Gypsies, but
+he is a gypsy, yes, and it is better not to have his ill will."
+
+Whether this hardened pretender could cast the evil eye or not, we
+never knew, for having bought two of his pictures at the first onset,
+we suffered ever afterward the sunshine of his favor. In fact we often
+made a wide detour rather than pass him on the hill, for he would
+spring to his feet at our remotest approach and stand bowing like an
+image of perpetual motion, his hat brandished high in air, until our
+utmost in the way of answering nods and smiles seemed by contrast
+sheer democratic incivility.
+
+The swarthy faces and glittering eyes of the gypsies meet one
+everywhere in the Granada streets, but to see them in their own
+precinct it is necessary to take off your watch, empty your pockets of
+all but small silver and coppers, and go to the Albaicín. This hill,
+parted from the Alhambra by the deep ravine of the gold-bearing Darro,
+was in Moorish times the chosen residence of the aristocracy. Still
+Arabian arches span the gorge, and many of the toppling old houses
+that lean over the swift, mountain-born current, shabby as they look
+to the passer-by, are beautiful within with arabesque and fretwork,
+carven niches, delicate columns and open patios, where fountains still
+gush and orange blossoms still shed fragrance. Such degenerate palaces
+are often occupied by the better class of gypsies, those who traffic
+in horses, as well as in donkeys, while their women, grouped in the
+courts and doorways, embroider with rainbow wools, in all fantastic
+patterns, the stout mantles of the Andalusian mountaineers.
+
+As we climbed the Albaicín, fronting as it does the hill of the
+Alhambra, the exceeding beauty of the view at first claimed all our
+power of seeing. Below was the gray sweep of the city and beyond the
+fruitful plain of Granada, its vivid green shading into a far-off
+dimness like the sea. Just opposite us rose the fortress of the
+Alhambra, a proud though broken girdle of walls and towers, while in
+the background soared the dazzling snow peaks of the Sierra Nevada,
+glistening with unbearable splendor under the intense blue of the
+Andalusian sky.
+
+In the midst of our rhapsodies I became aware of a shrill voice at my
+feet, a persistent tug at my skirts, and reluctantly dropped my eyes
+on a comely little gypsy lass lying along a sunny ledge and
+imperiously demanding _cinco centimos_.
+
+"Now what would you do with _cinco centimos_ if you had them?"
+
+With the universal beggar gesture she pointed to her mouth. "Buy a
+rusk. I am starving. I am already dead of hunger."
+
+Crossing her hands upon her breast, she closed her eyes in token of
+her mortal extremity, but instantly flashed them open again to note
+the effect.
+
+"Your cheeks are not the cheeks of famine."
+
+At a breath the young sorceress sucked them in and succeeded, plump
+little person though she was, in looking so haggard and so woe-begone
+that our political economy broke down in laughter, and we gave her the
+coveted cent in return for her transformation act.
+
+Off she darted, with her wild locks flying in the wind, and was back
+in a twinkling, a circlet of bread suspended from her arm. She tripped
+along beside us for the rest of the afternoon, using the rusk
+sometimes as a hoop, sometimes as a crown, sometimes as a peephole.
+She tossed it, sang through it, dandled it, stroked it, and
+occasionally, while the bread approximated more and more in hue to her
+own gypsy complexion, took an artistic nibble, dotting the surface
+with a symmetrical curve of bites. It was not mere food to her; it was
+luxury, it was mirth--like a Lord Mayor's feast or a Delmonico
+breakfast.
+
+Following the _Camino del Sacro Monte_, marked by many crosses, our
+attention was more and more withdrawn from the majestic views spread
+out before us to the gypsies, whose cave dwellings lined the way.
+Burrowing into the earth, from the midst of thickets of prickly pear,
+are these strange abodes, whose chimneys rise abruptly out of the
+green surface of the hillside. Dens as they are, the best of them
+possess some decencies. Flaps of cloth serve them for doors, their
+peering fronts are whitewashed, they are furnished with a stool or
+two, a box of tools or clothing, a few water-jars, a guitar, and, in
+the farther end of the lair, a family bedstead, or more often a heap
+of dirty sheepskins. Cooking tins, bottles, saddles, and coils of rope
+hang on the rough walls; there may be a shelf of amulets and toys for
+sale, and the indispensable pot of _puchero_ simmers over a handful of
+fire.
+
+Out from these savage homes swarmed a whining, coaxing, importunate
+horde of sly-eyed women and an impish rabble of children. Young and
+old clutched at us with unclean hands, clung to us with sinewy brown
+arms, begged, flattered, demanded, and dragged us bodily into their
+hill. We felt as if we had gone back to German fairy tales and had
+fallen into the evil grip of the gnomes. Hardly could escort,
+carriage, and a reckless rain of coppers break the spell. We were
+forced to taste their repulsive messes, to cross witch palms with
+silver, to buy even the roadside weeds the urchins gathered before our
+eyes. We were birds for the plucking, sheep for the shearing. Only
+when we had turned our pockets inside out to show that we had not a
+"little dog" left, were we suffered to go free, followed, doubtless,
+by the curses of Egypt, because we had yielded such poor picking.
+
+In Seville, too, the gypsies have their own quarter, but in proportion
+as Seville is a gentler city than Granada, so are the looks and
+manners of her gypsy population more attractive. Crossing the yellow
+Guadalquivír by the bridge of Isabel Segunda, we come immediately on
+the picturesque, dark-visaged figures, with their uneffaced suggestion
+of wildness, of freedom, of traditions apart from the common humdrum
+of humanity. The boy, clad in one fluttering garment, who is
+perilously balancing his slender brown body on the iron rail; the
+bright-kerchiefed young mother, thrusting her tiny black bantling into
+our faces; the silent, swarthy men who lean along the bridge side,
+lithe even in their lounging;--all have a latent fierceness in their
+look. Their eyes are keen as knives--strange eyes, whose glitter masks
+the depth. But as we go on into the potter's suburb of Triana, into
+the thick of the gypsy life, we are not more seriously molested than
+by the continual begging, nor is this the rough, imperious begging of
+Granada; a flavor of Sevillian grace and fun has passed upon it. Offer
+this bush-headed lad, pleading starvation, the orange he has just
+tossed away, and he will double up over the joke and take to his
+little bare heels. Give to the fawning sibyl who insists on telling
+your fortune a red rose for her hair, and the chances are that she
+will rest content. But the time to see the gypsies in their glory is
+during the three days and nights of the _Feria_.
+
+On the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth of April Seville annually
+keeps, on the _Prado de San Sebastian_, where the Inquisition used to
+light its fires, the blithest of spring festivals. The _Feria_ is a
+fair, but much more than a fair. There are droves upon droves of
+horses, donkeys, cattle, goats, sheep, and pigs. There are rows upon
+rows of booths with toys, booths with nuts and candies, booths with
+the gay-handled Albacete knives and daggers. There are baskets upon
+baskets of rainbow fans, mimic fighting cocks, oranges, and other
+cheap Sevillian specialties. Cooling drinks are on sale at every turn,
+but there is no drunkenness. There are thousands and tens of thousands
+of people in motion, but there is no bustling, no elbowing, no
+rudeness of pressure. Dainty little children wander alone in that
+tremendous throng. The order and tranquillity that prevail by day and
+night in this multitude of merrymakers render it possible for the
+_Feria_ to be what it is. For during these enchanted April hours even
+the noblest families of Seville come forth from the proud seclusion of
+their patios and live in _casetas_, little rustic houses that are
+scarcely more than open tents, exposed to the gaze of every passer-by.
+
+A lofty bridge, crossed by two broad flights of stairs and tapering to
+a tower, stands at the intersection of the three chief _Feria_
+avenues. The bridge is brilliantly illuminated by night, and
+close-set globes of gas, looped on running tubes along both sides of
+these three festal streets, pour floods of light into the _casetas_.
+Chinese lanterns in red and yellow abound, and lines of banner-staffs
+flaunt the Spanish colors. The _casetas_ are usually constructed of
+white canvas on a framework of light-brown fretwood, though the
+materials are sometimes more durable.
+
+Clubhouses are large and elaborate, and individual taste varies the
+aspect of the private tents. The more important families of Seville
+own their _casetas_, but in general these airy abodes are rented from
+year to year, the price for the three days of the _Feria_ ranging from
+twenty-five dollars on the central avenue to five dollars for the more
+remote houselets on the two streets that branch off at right angles.
+The numerous byways are occupied by cafés, booths, penny shows, and
+the like, the gypsies having one side of a lane to themselves. The
+other side is given over to circus-rings, merry-go-rounds,
+cradle-swings marked "For Havana," "For Manila," "For Madrid," dancing
+dwarfs, braying bands, caged bulls, and tents provided with peepholes
+through which one may see "The Glorious Victory of the Spanish Troops
+at Santiago," and other surprising panoramas of the recent war. These
+are in high favor with soldiers and small boys, whose black heads bump
+together at every aperture.
+
+Such attractions are especially potent over the country folk, who come
+jogging into Seville during fair time, mounted two or three together
+on jaded horses, sorry mules, and even on indignant little donkeys.
+Their peasant costumes add richly to the charm of the spectacle, and
+their simplicity makes them an easy spoil for the canny folk of Egypt.
+You see them especially in the cool of the early morning, when trade
+in cattle is at its liveliest. Ten to one they have been fleeced
+already by the _gitanos_, who, out in the great meadow where the
+live-stock is exposed for sale, have their own corner for "dead
+donkeys," as the Sevillians term the decrepit old beasts that have
+been magically spruced up for the occasion. Cervantes has his jest at
+"a gypsy's ass, with quicksilver in its ears."
+
+Then comes the turn of the _gitanas_, looking their prettiest, with
+roses in hair, and over the shoulders those captivating black silk
+shawls embroidered in many-colored patterns of birds and flowers. The
+younger enchantresses keep watch, each in front of her family tent,
+before whose parted curtains the more ill-favored women of the
+household are busy frying the crisp brown _buñuelos_, a species of
+doughnut dear to the Spanish tooth.
+
+As you loiter down the lane, be you wide-eyed shepherd from the
+provinces, or elegant grandee from Madrid, or haughty foreigner from
+London or Vienna, the sturdy sirens rush upon you, seize you by arm or
+neck, and by main force tug you into their tented prisons, from which
+you must gnaw your way out through a heap of hot _buñuelos_. Or you
+may compromise on a cup of Spanish chocolate, flavored with cinnamon
+and thick as flannel, or perhaps win your liberty by gulping down a
+cupful of warm goat's milk. The prices shock the portliest purses, but
+at your first faint sign of protest a gathering mob of gypsies presses
+close with jeers and hisses, and even the frying-pan sputters
+contempt.
+
+The _Feria_ presents its most quiet aspect during the afternoon. Some
+twenty or thirty thousand of the promenaders have been drawn off by
+the superior attraction of the bull-fight, and others have retired for
+their siestas. Yet there are thousands left. This is a grand time for
+the children, who disport themselves in the avenues with whistles,
+swords, balls, kites, and other trophies from the toy booths. These
+little people are exquisitely dressed, often in the old Andalusian
+costumes, and tiny lad and tiny lass, of aristocratic look and
+bearing, may be seen tripping together through one of the graceful
+national dances in the midst of a sidewalk throng. The toddlers, too,
+are out, under charge of happy nursemaids.
+
+Even the babies have been brought to the fair, and lie, contentedly
+sucking their rosy thumbs, in the doorways of the _casetas_. The lords
+of these doll-houses are enjoying peaceful smokes together in the
+background of the open parlors, which are furnished with as many
+chairs as possible, a piano, and a central stand of flowers; while
+semicircles of silent ladies, languidly waving the most exquisite of
+fans, sit nearer the front, watching the ceaseless stream of
+pedestrians, and beyond these the double procession of carriages,
+which keep close rank as they advance on one side of the avenue and
+return on the other. It is bad form not to go to the _Feria_ once at
+least in a carriage. Large families of limited means hire spacious
+vehicles resembling omnibuses, and, squeezed together in two opposite
+rows, drive up and down the three chief streets for hours.
+
+There are crested landaus, with handsome horses, gay donkey-carts,
+decked out with wreaths and tassels, shabby cabs, sporting red and
+yellow ribbons on their whips, tooting coaches--every sort and kind of
+contrivance for relieving humanity of its own weight. There are
+mounted cavaliers in plenty, and occasionally, under due masculine
+escort, a fair-haired English girl rides by, or a group of Spanish
+señoras, who have come into Seville on horseback from their country
+homes. But all this movement is slow and dreamy, the play of the
+children being as gentle as the waving of the fans.
+
+Even Gypsy Lane shares in the tranquillity of the drowsy afternoon. We
+were captured there almost without violence, and, while we trifled
+with the slightest refreshment we could find, a juvenile entertainment
+beguiled us of our coppers with pleasurable ease. A coquettish midget
+of four summers innocently danced for us the dances that are not
+innocent, and a wee goblin of seven, who could not be induced to
+perform without a cap, that he might pull it down over his bashful
+eyes, stamped and kicked, made stealthy approaches and fierce starts
+of attack through the savage hunting jigs inherited from the ancient
+life of the wilderness. The women swung their arms and shrilled wild
+tunes to urge the children on, but a second youngster who attempted
+one of these barbaric dances for us broke down in mid career, and,
+amid a chorus of screaming laughter, buried his blushes in his
+mother's lap. The tent had become crowded with stalwart, black
+_gitanos_, but they were in a domestic mood, smiled on the children's
+antics, and eyed us with grim amusement as the women caught up from
+rough cradles and thrust into our arms those elfish babies of theirs.
+Even the infant of five days winked at us with trickery in its jet
+beads of vision. But so inert was gypsy enterprise that we were
+suffered to depart with a few _pesetas_ yet in our possession.
+
+In the evening, from eight till one, the _Feria_ is perfect Fairyland.
+Under the light of those clustered gas globes and butterfly-colored
+lanterns pass and repass the loveliest women of the world. Beautifully
+clad as the señoritas have been during morning and afternoon, their
+evening toilets excel and crown the rest. White-robed, white-sandalled,
+their brown, bewitching faces peeping out from the lace folds of white
+mantillas, with white shawls, embroidered in glowing hues, folded over
+the arm, and delicate white fans in hand, they look the very poetry of
+maidenhood. Months of saving, weeks of stitching, these costumes may
+have cost, but the _Feria_ is, above all, a marriage mart, and the
+Andalusian girl, usually so strictly guarded, so jealously secluded,
+never allowed to walk or shop alone, is now on exhibition. As these
+radiant forms glide along the avenues, the men who meet them coolly
+bend and look full into their faces, scanning line and feature with
+the critical air of connoisseurs. But well these cavaliers illustrate
+the Andalusian catch:--
+
+     "Because I look thee in the face,
+       Set not for this thy hopes too high,
+     For many go to the market-place
+       To see and not to buy."
+
+The girl's opportunity is in her dancing. Every Andalusian woman, high
+or low, knows the _Sevillana_. Some have been trained in it by
+accredited teachers of the art, but the most learn the dance in
+childhood, as naturally as they learn to speak and sing. They are
+never weary of dancing it, morning, noon, and night, two girls
+together, or a girl and a lad, but such dancing is confined to the
+Moorish privacy of the Spanish home--except in Fair time. Then the
+whole world may stand before the _casetas_ and see the choicest
+daughters of Seville dancing the dance that is very coquetry in
+motion. Rows of girls awaiting their turn, and of matrons who are
+chaperoning the spectacle, sit about the three sides of the mimic
+drawing-room. A dense crowd of men, crying "_Ole! Ole!_" and
+commenting as freely on the figures and postures of the dancers as if
+they were ballet artistes in a café chantant, is gathered close in
+front. For their view these rhythmic maidens dance on, hour after
+hour, until their great, dusky eyes are dim with sleep. The tassels of
+curly ribbon, tinted to match the dainty touches of color in their
+costumes, seem to droop in exhaustion from the tossing castanets. What
+matter? For a Spanish girl to reach her twenty-fifth birthday without
+a _novio_ is a tragedy of failure, and these tired dancers are well
+aware that _caballeros_ are making the rounds from _caseta_ to
+_caseta_, on purpose to select a wife.
+
+In Gypsy Lane there is no sugar coating. The Flamenco dances are
+directly seductive. The life of the forest animal seems reproduced in
+the fierceness, the fitfulness, the abandon, of each strange series of
+abrupt gesticulations. Yet these gypsy women, boldly as they play on
+the passions of the spectators, care only for Gentile money, and fling
+off with fiery scorn the addresses that their songs and dances court.
+Many a flouted gallant could tell the tale of one who
+
+     "Like a right gypsy, hath, at fast and loose,
+     Beguiled me to the very heart of loss."
+
+Husbands and lovers look on at the dancers' most extreme poses, even
+caresses, in nonchalant security. While one _gitana_ after another
+takes the stage, a crescent of men and women, seated behind, cheer her
+on with cries and clappings, strummings of the guitar, and frenzied
+beatings of the floor with staff and stool. Yet their excitement, even
+at its apparent height, never sweeps them out of their crafty selves.
+Beyond the dancer they see the audience. Disdain and dislike are in
+the atmosphere, and never more than when the rain of silver is at its
+richest. Still they follow the gypsy law, "To cheat and rob the
+stranger always and ever, and be true only to our own blood."
+
+  [Illustration: THE PASSING OF THE PAGEANTS]
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+THE ROUTE OF THE SILVER FLEETS
+
+     "Paul, the Physician, to Cristobal Colombo, greeting. I
+     perceive your magnificent and great desire to find a way to
+     where the spices grow."
+
+     "And thus leade they their lyves in fullfilling the holy
+     hunger of golde. But the more they fill their handes with
+     finding, the more increaseth their covetous desire."
+                                    --_Decades in the New Worlde._
+
+
+I wanted to go from Seville to Cadiz by water. I longed to sail by the
+"Silver Road" in the wake of the silver fleets. The little artist, as
+befitted her youth, preferred a Manila shawl to that historic
+pilgrimage. So I proposed to make this trifling trip alone.
+
+Don José was shocked. Merriest and most indulgent of hosts, he was
+inclined at this point to play the tyrant. If I must see Cadiz, well
+and good. He would take me to the morning express and put me under
+charge of the conductor. At Utrera, an hour farther on, his son would
+come to the train and see that all was well. At _Puerto de Santa
+Maria_, another hour distant, I should be met by a trusted friend of
+the family, who would transfer me to another train and another
+conductor, and so speed me for my third hour to Cadiz, where I should
+be greeted by a relative of mine hostess and conveyed in safety to his
+home.
+
+I appreciated the kindness involved in this very Andalusian
+programme, but otherwise it did not appeal to me. That was not the way
+Columbus went, nor Cortés. And much as I delighted in the Alhambra,
+and the Mosque of Cordova, and the Alcázar of Seville, I did not feel
+called upon to bow a New England bonnet beneath the Moorish yoke.
+
+Thus Don José and I found ourselves quietly engaged in an
+Hispano-American contest. He heartily disapproved of my going, even by
+train. "_Una señora sola!_ It is not the custom in Andalusia." His
+plan of campaign consisted in deferring the arrangements from day to
+day. "_Mañana!_" Whenever I attempted to set a time for departure he
+blandly assented, and presently projected some irresistibly attractive
+excursion for that very date. His household were all with him. His
+wife had not been able to procure the particular _dulces_
+indispensable to a traveller's luncheon. Even my faithless comrade,
+draped in her flower-garden shawl, practised the steps of a
+_seguidilla_ to the rattle of the castanets and laughed at my defeats.
+
+At last, grown desperate, I suavely announced at the Sunday dinner
+table that I was going to Cadiz that week. My host said, "_Bueno!_"
+and my hostess, "_Muy bien!_" But there was no surrender in their
+tones. On Monday, instead of writing the requisite notes to these
+relays of protectors along the route, Don José took us himself, on a
+mimic steamboat, for a judicious distance down the Guadalquivír.
+Tuesday he put me off with Roman ruins, and Wednesday with a private
+gallery of Murillos. By Thursday I grew insistent, and, with shrug and
+sigh, he finally consented to my going by train on Friday. I still
+urged the boat, but he heaped up a thousand difficulties. There wasn't
+any; it would be overcrowded; I should be seasick; the boat would
+arrive, wherever it might arrive, too late for my train, whatever my
+train might be. Compromise is always becoming, and I agreed to take
+the nine o'clock express in the morning.
+
+After the extended Spanish farewells, for to kiss on both cheeks and
+be kissed on both cheeks down a long feminine line, mother, daughters,
+and maid-servants, is no hasty ceremony, I sallied forth at half-past
+eight with Don José in attendance. He called a cab, but in Spain the
+cabbies are men and brothers, and this one, on learning our
+destination, declared that the train did not start until half-past
+nine and it was much better for a lady to wait _en casa_ than at the
+depot. This additional guardianship goaded me to active remonstrance.
+Why not take the cab for the hour and look up a procession on our way
+to the station? There are always processions in Seville. This appealed
+to both the pleasure-loving Spaniards, and we drove into the palmy
+_Plaza de San Fernando_, where an array of military bands was
+serenading some civic dignitary.
+
+The music was of the best, and we fell in with the large and varied
+retinue that escorted the musicians to the palace of the archbishop.
+As they were rousing him from his reverend slumbers with _La Marcha de
+Cadiz_, I caught a twinkle in Don José's eye. Did he hope to keep me
+chasing after those bands all the forenoon? I awakened the cabman,
+whom the music had lulled into the easy Andalusian doze, and we
+clattered off to the station. Of all silent and forsaken places! I
+looked suspiciously at Don José, whose swarthy countenance wore an
+overdone expression of innocent surprise. A solitary official
+sauntered out.
+
+"Good morning, señor! Is the express gone?" asked the driver.
+
+"Good morning, señor! There isn't any express to-day," was the reply.
+"The express runs only Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays."
+
+"What a pity," cooed Don José, contentedly. "You will have to wait
+till to-morrow."
+
+"Yes, you can go to-morrow," indulgently added the driver, and the
+official chimed sweetly in, "_Mañana por la mañana!_"
+
+"But is there no other train to-day?" I asked.
+
+The official admitted that there was one at three o'clock. Don José
+gave him a reproachful glance.
+
+"But you do not want to go by train," said my ingenious host. "Perhaps
+to-morrow you can go by steamboat."
+
+"Perhaps I can go by steamboat now," I returned, seizing my
+opportunity. "When does that boat start?"
+
+Nobody knew. I asked the cabman to drive us to the Golden Tower, off
+which sea-going vessels usually anchor. Don José fell back in his
+seat, exhausted.
+
+The cabman drove so fast, for Seville, that we ran into a donkey and
+made a paralyzed beggar jump, but we reached the river in time to see
+a small steamer just in the act of swinging loose from the pier. In
+the excitement of the moment Don José forgot everything save the
+necessity of properly presenting me to the captain, and I, for my
+part, was absorbed in the ecstasy of sailing from the foot of the
+Golden Tower along the Silver Road.
+
+It was not until a rod of water lay between boat and wharf that the
+captain shouted to Don José, who struck an attitude of utter
+consternation, that this craft went only to Bonanza, and no
+connection could be made from there to Cadiz until the following
+afternoon. And I, mindful of the austere dignity that befitted these
+critical circumstances, could not even laugh.
+
+It was a dirty little boat, with a malodorous cargo of fish, and for
+passengers two soldiers, two peasants, and a commercial traveller. But
+what of that? I was sailing on a treasure ship of the Indies, one of
+those lofty galleons of Spain, "rowed by thrice one hundred slaves and
+gay with streamers, banners, music," that had delivered at the Golden
+Tower her tribute from the hoard of the Incas, and was proudly bearing
+back to the open roads of Cadiz.
+
+We dropped down past a noble line of deep-sea merchantmen, from
+Marseilles, Hamburg, and far-away ports of Norway and Sweden. We
+passed fishing boats casting their nets, and met a stately Spanish
+bark, the _Calderon_. On the shores we caught glimpses of orange grove
+and olive orchard, lines of osiers and white poplars, and we paused at
+the little town of Coria, famous for its earthen jars, to land one of
+our peasants, while a jolly priest, whose plain black garb was
+relieved by a vermilion parasol, tossed down cigars to his friends
+among the sailors.
+
+Then our galleon pursued her course into the flat and desolate regions
+of the _marismas_. These great salt marshes of the Guadalquivír,
+scarcely more than a bog in winter, serve as pasture for herds of
+hardy sheep and for those droves of mighty bulls bred in Andalusia to
+die in the arenas of all Spain. For long stretches the green bank
+would be lined with the glorious creatures, standing like ebony
+statues deep amid the reeds, some entirely black, and many black with
+slight markings of white. The Guadalquivír intersects in triple
+channel this unpeopled waste, concerning whose profusion of plant life
+and animal life English hunters tell strange tales. They report flocks
+of rosy flamingoes, three hundred or five hundred in a column,
+"glinting in the sunshine like a pink cloud," and muddy islets studded
+thick with colonies of flamingo nests. Most wonderful of all, the
+camel, that ancient and serious beast of burden, a figure pertaining
+in all imaginations to the arid, sandy desert, keeps holiday in these
+huge swamps. It seems that, in 1829, a herd of camels was brought into
+the province of Cadiz, from the Canaries, for transport service in
+road-building and the like, and for trial in agriculture. But the
+peculiar distaste of horses for these humpy monsters spoiled the
+scheme, and the camels, increased to some eighty in number, took
+merrily to the marshes, where, in defiance of all caravan tradition,
+they thrive in aquatic liberty. The fascination of this wilderness
+reached even the dingy steamer deck. Gulls, ducks, and all manner of
+wild fowl flashed in the sunshine, which often made the winding river,
+as tawny as our James, sparkle like liquid gold.
+
+If only it had been gold indeed, and had kept the traceries of the
+Roman keels that have traversed it, the Vandal swords whose red it has
+washed away, the Moorish faces it has mirrored, the Spanish--
+
+"_Usted come?_"
+
+It might have been Cortes who was offering that bowl of _puchero_, but
+no! Cortes would have mixed it in his plumy helmet and stirred it with
+that thin, keen sword one may see in the Madrid _Armería_. This was a
+barefooted cabin boy, in blue linen blouse and patched blue trousers,
+with a scarlet cloth cap tied over his head by means of an
+orange-colored handkerchief. The dancing eyes that lit his shy brown
+face had sea blues in them. He was a winsome little fellow enough, but
+I did not incline to his cookery. While I was watching river, shores,
+and herds and chatting with the _simpático_ sailor, who, taking his
+cue from my look, expressed the deepest abhorrence of the bull-fights,
+which, I make no doubt, he would sell his dinner, jacket, bed, even
+his guitar, to see, I had taken secret note of the cuisine. This
+child, who could not have counted his twelfth birthday, kindled the
+fire in a flimsy tin pail, lined with broken bricks. He cracked over
+his knee a few pieces of driftwood, mixed the fragments with bits of
+coal which he shook out of a sheepskin bottle, doused oil over the
+whole, and cheerfully applied the match, while the commercial
+traveller hastily drew up a bucket of water to have on hand for
+emergencies. Then the boy, with excellent intentions in the way of
+neatness, whisked his blackened hands across the rough end of a rope
+and plunged them into the pot of _garbanzos_, to which he added beans,
+cabbage, remnants of fried fish, and other sundries at his young
+discretion. And while the mess was simmering, he squatted down on the
+deck, with his grimy little feet in his fists, rocking himself back
+and forth to his own wild Malaga songs, and occasionally disengaging
+one hand or the other to plunge it into the pot after a tasty morsel.
+
+"Will you eat?" he repeated manfully, reddening under the scrutiny of
+stranger eyes.
+
+"Many thanks! May it profit yourself!"
+
+I opened my luncheon, and again we exchanged these fixed phrases of
+Spanish etiquette, although after the refusals enjoined by code of
+courtesy, the boy was finally induced to relieve me of my more
+indigestible goodies.
+
+"Did you ever hear of Columbus?" I asked, as we munched chestnut cakes
+together, leaning on the rail.
+
+"No, señora," he replied, with another blush, "I have heard of
+nothing. I know little. I am of very small account. I cook and sing. I
+am good for nothing more."
+
+And is it to this those arrogant Spanish boasts, which rang like
+trumpets up and down the Guadalquivír, have come at last!
+
+We were in the heart of a perfect sapphire day. The river, often
+turbulent and unruly, was on this April afternoon, the sailors said,
+_buen muchacho_, a good boy. The boat appeared to navigate herself.
+The captain nodded on his lofty perch, and the engineer was curled up
+in his own tiny hatchway, trying to read a newspaper, which the fresh
+breeze blew into horns and balloons. The rough cabin bunks were full
+of sleeping forms, and the leather wine-bottles, flung down carelessly
+in the stern, had cuddled each to each in cozy shapes, and seemed to
+be sleeping, too. The two soldiers, who had been gambling with coppers
+over innumerable games of dominos, were listening grimly to the
+oratory of the commercial traveller.
+
+"No fighting for me!" this hero was declaiming. "In strenuous times
+like these a man ought to cherish his life for the sake of his
+country. Spain needs her sons right here at home. It is sweet, as the
+poet says, to die for the _patria_, but to live for the _patria_ is,
+in my opinion, just as glorious."
+
+"And more comfortable," grunted one of the soldiers, while the other
+gave a hitch to those red infantry trousers which look as if they had
+been wading in blood, and walked forward to view from the bows the
+little white port of Bonanza.
+
+As the boat went no farther, I had to stain my silver route by a
+prosaic parenthesis of land. It was some comfort to remember that
+Magellan waited here for that expedition from Seville which was the
+first to sail around the globe. I think I travelled the three miles
+from Bonanza, Good Weather, to San Lúcar de Barrameda in Magellan's
+own carriage. It was certainly old enough. As I sat on a tipsy chair
+in the middle of a rude wagon frame mounted on two shrieking wooden
+wheels, and hooded with broken arches of bamboo, from which flapped
+shreds of russet oilcloth, I entered into poignant sympathy with
+Magellan's ups and downs of hope and fear. The jolting was such a
+torture that, to divert my attention, I questioned the driver as to
+the uses of this and that appliance in his rickety ark.
+
+"And what are those ropes for, there in the corner?" was my final
+query.
+
+"Those are to tie the coffins down when I have a fare for the
+cemetery," he replied, cracking his whip over the incredibly lean mule
+that was sulkily jerking us along.
+
+"Please let me get out and walk," I entreated. "You may keep the
+valise and show me the way to the inn, and I can go quite as fast as
+that mule."
+
+"Now, don't!" he begged, with even intenser pathos. "Strangers always
+want to walk before they get to the inn, and then the people laugh at
+me. I know my carriage isn't very handsome, but it's the only one in
+Bonanza. Just do me the favor to keep your seat a little longer."
+
+I had been lurched out of it only a minute before, but I could not
+refuse to sacrifice mere bodily ease to the pride of Spanish spirit.
+
+Notwithstanding Don José's dark predictions, this was the only trial
+of the trip. To realize to the full the honesty, kindliness, and
+dignity of the everyday Spaniard, one needs to turn off from the
+sight-seer's route. On the beaten tourist track are exorbitant hotels,
+greedy guides, cheating merchants, troops of beggars--everywhere "the
+itching palm." But here in San Lúcar, for instance, where I had to
+spend twenty-four hours at a genuine Spanish _fonda_, the proprietor
+took no advantage of the facts that I was a foreigner, a woman, and
+practically a prisoner in the place until the Saturday afternoon train
+went out, but gave me excellent accommodations, most respectful and
+considerate treatment, and the lowest hotel bill that I had seen in
+Spain.
+
+San Lúcar has, in early Spanish literature, a very ill name for
+roguery, but, so far as my brief experience went, Boston could not
+have been safer and would not have been so genial. I strayed, for
+instance, into a modest little shop to buy a cake of soap, which its
+owner declined to sell, insisting that I ought to have a choicer
+variety than his, and sending his son, a lad of sixteen, to point me
+out more fashionable counters. This youth showed me the sights of the
+pleasant seashore town, with its tiers of closely grated windows
+standing out from the white fronts of the houses, and its sturdy
+packhorses and orange-laden donkeys streaming along the rough stone
+streets, and when, at the inn door, I hesitatingly offered him a piece
+of silver, doffed his cap with smiling ease, and said he did not take
+pay for a pleasure.
+
+Once off the regular lines of travel, however, speed is out of the
+question. I might have gone from Seville to Cadiz in three hours;
+thanks to historic enthusiasms, it took me nearer three days. After
+escaping from San Lúcar, I had to pass four hours in Jerez, another
+whitewashed, palm-planted town, whose famous sherry has made it the
+third city in Spain for wealth. The thing to do at Jerez is to visit
+the great _bodegas_ and taste the rich white liquors treasured in
+those monster casks, which bear all manner of names, from Christ and
+His twelve disciples to Napoleon the Great; but mindful, in the light
+of Don José's admonitions, that the weak feminine estate is "as water
+unto wine," I contented myself with seeing the strange storage basin
+of the mountain aqueduct--an immense, immaculate cellar, where endless
+vistas of low stone arches stretch away in the silent dusk above the
+glimmer of a ghostly lake.
+
+The train for Cadiz must needs be two hours late this particular
+evening, but my cabman drove me to approved shops for the purchase of
+bread and fruit, and then, of his own motion, drew up our modest
+equipage in a shady nook opposite the villa of the English consul,
+that I might enjoy my Arcadian repast with a secure mind. Jehu
+accepted, after due protestations, a share of the viands, and
+reciprocated the attention by buying me a glass of water at the
+nearest stand, much amused at my continued preference for Jerez water
+over Jerez wine.
+
+One of the Jerez wine merchants, German by birth, shared the railway
+carriage with me for a while, and after the social wont of Continental
+travel fell to discussing the war. "The Spaniards deserved to be
+beaten," he declared, "but the Yankees didn't deserve to beat. They
+were conceited enough before, heaven knows, and now they expect all
+Europe to black their shoddy shoes. Your own country was a bit to
+blame in blocking every effort to keep them in their place."
+
+I felt it time to explain that I was not English, but American. Much
+disconcerted, he did his best to make amends.
+
+"I wouldn't have said that for the world if I had known you were an
+American--but it's every syllable true."
+
+He thought over this remark in silence for a moment, his Teutonic
+spirit sorely strained between kindliness and honesty, and tried
+again.
+
+"I would like to say something good about the United States, I would
+indeed,--if there was anything to say."
+
+It seemed to occur to him, after a little, that even this apology left
+something to be desired, and he brightened up.
+
+"Wouldn't you like some roses? They sell them here at this station.
+There comes a boy now with a nice, big bunch. One _peseta_! I think
+that's too dear, don't you?"
+
+I hastened to assent.
+
+"The lady says that's too dear. Seventy-five _centimos_? No. The lady
+can't pay that. Sixty _centimos_? No. The lady can't afford sixty
+_centimos_. Fifty _centimos_? No. The lady says fifty _centimos_ is
+too much. She will take them at forty _centimos_. Here's a half
+_peseta_. And you must give me back a fat dog."
+
+The boy held back the penny and tried to substitute a cent.
+
+"Oh, sir, please, sir, forty-five _centimos_! There are two dozen
+roses here, and all fresh as the dawn. Give me the puppy-dog over."
+
+But the German, who knew how to put even a sharper edge on the
+inveterate Spanish bargaining, secured for the value of eight cents,
+instead of twenty, his great bouquet of really beautiful roses, and
+presented it with as much of a bow as the carriage limits permitted.
+
+"I meant to pay all the time, you know; but one can always make a
+better trade, in Spain, if it is done in the name of a lady." And he
+added, with that sudden tact which innate goodness and delicacy give
+to the most blundering of us mortals, "If you don't like to take them
+from a stranger for yourself, you will take them as my peace-offering
+to your country."
+
+I was reminded again of my native land by another fellow-traveller--a
+Spaniard of the Spaniards, this time, one of the Conservative and
+Catholic leaders, greeted at the various stations by priests and monks
+and friars, whose hands he solemnly kissed. This distinguished
+personage was absorbed in a voluminous type-written manuscript, from
+which he occasionally read aloud to the band of political confidants
+who accompanied him. It was an arraignment of the Liberal Party, and,
+by way of exposing the errors of the Sagasta government, included a
+merciless résumé of the Spanish naval and military disasters, with
+elaborate comparisons of the American and Spanish equipments. He was
+then on his way to join in a consoling pilgrimage to a certain image
+of Christ, which had been cudgelled by a grief-maddened priest whose
+dying mother the image had failed to heal.
+
+These surroundings more or less jostled my sixteenth-century dream,
+but I held to it so stubbornly that, when pyramids of salt began to
+glimmer like ghosts along the way, and a sweeping curve of lights
+warned me of our approach to Cadiz, I made a point of seeing as little
+as possible. It was midnight, but Spanish hours are luckily so late
+that Don José's friends were still at the height of evening
+sociability and regaled me with alternate showers of sweetmeats and
+questions. Finally, after many exclamations of horror at the audacity
+of the trip, all the feminine hospitality of the household lighted me
+to a chamber whose walls were hung with pictures of martyrs and
+agonizing saints. Among these I counted five colored representations
+of Christ opening his breast to display the bleeding heart.
+
+The next morning I promptly took boat to _Puerto de Santa Maria_,
+embarked on the return steamer, and so at last found myself once more
+on the Silver Road, entering Cadiz harbor from the sea.
+
+To be sure, the _Montserrat_ was riding proudly in my view, although
+the warships to which she had been used to curtsy in the open roads of
+Cadiz would never cut those shining waves again. The waters were as
+turquoise blue as if they had just come from the brush of an old
+master, and the towered city rose before us like a crystal castle in
+the air. Its limited space, built as it is within great sea walls on
+an outlying rock, which only a rope of sand moors to the mainland, has
+necessitated narrow streets and high houses, whose _miradores_,
+lookouts that everywhere crown the terraced roofs, give this
+battlemented aspect to the town. One of the most ancient and tragic
+cities known to time, claiming Hercules for its founder, in turn
+Phoenician, Carthaginian, Roman, Gothic, Moorish, Spanish, it yet
+looks fresh as a water-lily. I could have spent another three days in
+gazing. And this sparkling vision was Spain's _Copa de Plata_, the
+Silver Cup which has brimmed with the gold and pearls of America, with
+blood and flame and glory. Its riches have taken to themselves wings,
+but its high, free spirit and frank gayety abide. Still the
+Andalusians sing:--
+
+     "_Viva_ Cadiz, Silver Cadiz,
+       Whose walls defy the sea,
+     Cadiz of the pretty girls,
+       Of courtesy and glee!
+
+     "Good luck to merry Cadiz,
+       As white as ocean spray,
+     And her five and twenty cannon
+       That point Gibraltar way!"
+
+But I am bound to add that the cannon do not look dangerous.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+MURILLO'S CHERUBS
+
+     "Angels o'er the palm trees flying,
+       Touch their waving fronds to rest.
+     Bid them give no wind replying.
+       Jesus sleeps on Mary's breast.
+     Blesséd angels, hold the peeping
+       Branches still as altar-place,
+     For the Holy Child is sleeping
+       Close beneath His Mother's face."
+                                        --LOPE DE VEGA.
+
+
+Spanish love for childhood, and the precocity and winsomeness of
+Spanish children, impressed me from my first hour in the Peninsula.
+"There is no road so level as to be without rough places," and the
+initial days of my Madrid residence, after my artist comrade had gone
+back to Paris and the spring salons, might have been a trifle lonely
+save for baby society. I was living in a delightful Spanish household,
+but the very excess of courtesy reminded me continually that I was a
+Yankee and a heretic. As time passed, friendship ripened, and it is
+to-day no empty form of words when I am assured that I have "my house
+in Madrid." But at the outset I felt myself not only an American
+alien, but an Andalusian exile. The "only Court" is such a prosaic
+contrast to Seville that my impulse was to betake myself with books
+to the great park of the Buen Retiro, the magnificent gift of Olivares
+to his royal master, and let the Madrid world, at least the adult
+portion of it, go by. For while the larger Madrileños were busy with
+their own plays of politics, bull-fights, and flirtation, the little
+ones had happy afternoons in that historic park of many a tragedy,
+where convents, palaces, and fortifications have all made way for the
+children's romping ground. Resting on a rustic seat in the leafy
+shade, with the rich, thrilling notes of the nightingale answering the
+bell call of the cuckoo from the deeper groves beyond, I could watch
+these budding Spaniards to heart's content.
+
+It was well to observe them from a distance, however, for their young
+voices were of the shrillest. Among the boys, an energetic few were
+developing muscle by tag and leap-frog; more were flying kites,
+cracking whips, twirling slings, and brandishing the terrors of pewter
+swords; while at every turn, beside some flashing fountain or beneath
+some spreading oak, I would come upon a group of urchins playing _al
+toro_ with the cheap, gaudy capes of red and yellow manufactured for
+the children's sport. The girls were skipping rope, rolling hoop,
+teaching one another the steps of endless dances, and whispering
+momentous secrets in statue-guarded grottos, or thickets of flowering
+shrubs, or whatsoever safe, mysterious nook their fluttering search
+could find.
+
+Here was a school out for its daily airing, a pretty procession of
+rainbow-clad little damsels, marshalled by the black-veiled figures of
+graceful nuns, and pacing with all decorum down a crowded avenue; but
+the moment the troop turned into some sequestered by-path, how it
+would break into a shimmering confusion of butterflies, darting
+hither and thither in those jewel-green lights and sea-green shadows,
+the nuns casting their dignity to the winds and scampering with the
+swiftest! Wandering after I would come, perhaps, upon an open space
+where the smaller boys were gathered, delicate little lads riding
+horse-headed sticks, digging with mimic spades, and tossing big, soft,
+red and yellow balls, while mothers and nurses sat about in circle on
+the stone benches, calling out sharp-toned cautions to their
+respective charges.
+
+And everywhere in the park were toddling babies, clasping dolls,
+tugging at gay balloons, dragging wooden donkeys on wheels, and
+tumbling over live puppies. They were pale, engaging, persistent
+little creatures, with a true Spanish inability to learn from
+experience. I saw one aristocratic cherub, white as snow from
+feathered cap to ribboned shoes, take ten successive slappings because
+he muddied his hands. The angry nurse would make a snatch for the
+naughty fingers, roughly beat off the dirt, and cuff the culprit
+soundly. His proud little mouth would tremble; he would wink hard and
+fast, but there was not a tear to be seen, not a cry to be heard, and
+no sooner had her peasant clutch released him than back went the baby
+hands, grubbing deep into the mire. A gorgeous civil guard finally
+distracted her attention, and the last view I had of the child showed
+him blissfully squatted in the very middle of a puddle, splashing with
+arms and legs.
+
+White is almost the universal wear of the prattling age in the Buen
+Retiro, although now and then some lily fairy would flit by with
+saffron sash and harmonious saffron stockings, or costume similarly
+touched by pink or blue. The Scotch plaids, too, were in favor as
+sashes, and at rare intervals I encountered a tot sensibly attired in
+stout plaid frock. But the white of this childish multitude was
+thickly flecked with mourning suits, complete to bits of black gloves
+and even to jet studs in the collars. Among the sad sights of the
+Retiro was an epileptic boy, led and half supported between two
+sweet-faced, youthful ladies, both in widow's crêpe, who screened him
+with caresses as his fit took him and he foamed and screamed in
+piteous helplessness. This pathetic trio, ever seeking seclusion, was
+ever followed by a retinue of idlers, who, for all their intrusive
+staring, were silent and sympathetic.
+
+The nursemaids formed not the least attractive feature of the
+kaleidoscopic picture. Most wore white caps, fastened with gilded pins
+or knots of rose or russet; but the nurses counted the best, from the
+mountain province of Santander, were distinguished by bright-colored
+handkerchiefs twisted about the head. Here, as in the _Élysées_,
+baby-wagons are seldom seen. The nurses carry in arms the black-eyed
+infants, who bite away at their coral necklaces quite like little
+Yankees.
+
+But Spanish traits soon declare themselves. In the centre of the park
+is an artificial pond, where lads in their first teens, too old for
+play, lean languidly over the iron railings, and, while they throw
+crumbs to the flock of forlorn-looking ducks or watch the dip of the
+red oar-blades that impel the pleasure boats, brag of their amorous
+adventures and exchange the scandal of the _Prado_. Sometimes their
+love chat is of sweeter tenor, for many of these schoolboys have
+already spoken their betrothal vows, which the Church will not let
+them lightly break. Spaniards often marry under twenty-one, and even a
+recent wedding in Madrid, where neither bride nor bridegroom had
+reached the fifteenth year, was hardly thought amiss, in view of the
+fact that there was parental money to maintain them.
+
+And why had the stately city of Valladolid been under a reign of
+terror for half the week just past, with shutters up, doors barred,
+and women and children kept at home for safety, while bands of young
+men swayed in bloody struggle through her famous squares and streets,
+but because a cadet and a student must needs lose heart to the same
+maid? Cupid, not Santiago, is the patron saint of Spain. And Cupid,
+for all his mischief, has some very winning ways. Our boyish
+sentimentalists of the Buen Retiro, for instance, easily fall into
+song, and the native melodies, always with something wild and Oriental
+in their beat, ring across the little lake into the woods beyond till
+the birds take up the challenge and every tree grows vocal.
+
+One afternoon, on my way to the park, I bought from a roadside vender
+a handful of small, gaudily bound children's books, and had no sooner
+found what I fondly supposed was a sequestered seat than a tumult of
+little folks surrounded me, coaxing to hear the stories. These tales,
+so taken at random, may throw a little light on the literature of
+Spanish nurseries. There was the life of the Madonna, which we passed
+over, as the children said they had read it in school and knew it,
+every word, already. So we turned to the astonishing career of the
+great soldier, Kill-Bullet, who could easily stop a cannon-ball
+against his palm, and to an account of that far-off land where it
+rained gold in such profusion that nobody would work, until finally
+all the people, weary of a wealth which induced no tailor to stitch
+and no shoemaker to cobble, no baker to bake and no dairy-maid to
+churn, rose by common consent and shovelled the gold into the river.
+We read of hot-tempered little Ambrose, who left the gate of his
+garden open, so that a hen cackled in and began to scratch under a
+rose bush, whereupon the angry boy chased her furiously all over the
+garden-beds until his summer's work was trampled into ruin, and his
+papa came and explained to him how disastrous a thing is wrath. There
+was a companion moral tale for little girls, telling how Inez used to
+make faces until her mamma told her that she would grow up with a
+twisted mouth and nobody would marry her, whereat did little Inez
+promptly reform her manners. One favorite volume, with a cover which
+displayed a wild-whiskered old ogre in a fiery skullcap gloating over
+a platterful of very pink baby, told how good little Violet saved her
+bad sisters, Rose and Daisy, from his dreadful gullet, by aid of an
+ugly monkey, whom her promised kiss transformed into a fairy prince. I
+was glad to find, in that country where so little is done to train
+children in the love of animals, the ancient tale of the four
+musicians, the donkey, the dog, the cat, and the cock, who escaped in
+their old age from the death that threatened them at the hands of
+ungrateful masters and, by a free exercise of their musical talents,
+captured the house of a robber-band, putting its inmates to confusion
+and flight. Many of the stories, indeed, would have been recognized by
+young Americans, but the proportion of saint-lore was larger than that
+of fairy-lore, and, now and then, some familiar property had suffered
+a Spanish change, as the invisible cap which had become an invisible
+cape of the sort used for playing bull-fight.
+
+  [Illustration: THE PAGEANT OF GETHSEMANE]
+
+The nursery rhymes, too, so far as I chanced upon them, were of the
+universal type with Spanish variations. A Castilian mother plays
+Peek-a-boo with her baby quite as an English mother does, except that
+the syllables are _Cú? Trás!_ The father's foot trots the child to a
+Catholic market.
+
+     "Trot, little donkey! Donkey, trot!
+       We must buy honey to please the pet.
+     If San Francisco has it not,
+       We'll go to San Benet."
+
+Baby's toes are counted as the eternal five little pigs, and also
+thus, with a preliminary tickling of the rosy sole:--
+
+"Here passed a little dove. This one caught it. This one killed it.
+This one put it on to roast. This one took it off again. And this
+teeny-teeny-teeny scamp ate it all up!"
+
+Spanish patty-cakes are followed by a Spanish grace.
+
+     "Patty-cakes, oh! Patty-cakes, ah!
+       The sweetest cakes are for dear mama.
+     Patty-cakes, oh! Patty-cakes, ah!
+       The hardest pats are for poor papa,
+
+     "Bread, O God! Bread, dear God,
+       For this little child to-day!
+     Because he's such a baby
+       He cannot pay his way."
+
+The Spanish nursery seems richer in rhymes than ours. Nurse bends
+Baby's left hand into a rose-leaf purse, for example, and gives it
+little taps with one finger after another of Baby's right hand,
+singing:--
+
+     "A penny for Baby's purse
+       From papa, mama, and nurse.
+     A penny, a penny to pay!
+       Let no thief steal it away!"
+
+And then the tiny fist is doubled tight.
+
+When the child, again, is first dressed in short clothes, he is
+propped up in a corner and coaxed to take his first step with the
+rhyme:--
+
+     "One little step, Baby-boy mine!
+       Come, Little Man, step up!
+     And thou shalt have a taste of wine
+       From Godfather's silver cup."
+
+This rhyming fashion the little ones take with them out of babyhood
+into their later childhood. The urchin admonishes his whistle:--
+
+     "Whistle, whistle, Margarita,
+       And you'll get a crust of bread,
+     But if you do not whistle
+       I'll cut off your little head."
+
+The little girl learns the scales in process of rocking her doll to
+sleep:--
+
+     Don't pin-prick my poor old dolly, _Do_
+     Respect my domestic matters. _Re_
+     Methinks she grows melancholy, _Mi_
+     Fast as her sawdust scatters. _Fa_
+     Sole rose of your mama's posy, _Sol_
+     Laugh at your mama, so! _La_
+     Seal up your eyes all cozy. _Si_
+     _La Sol Fa Mi Re Do._
+
+With Spanish children, as with ours, Christmas Eve, or _Noche Buena_,
+is a season of gleeful excitement. They do not hang up stockings for
+Santa Claus, but they put out their shoes on the balcony for the Kings
+of the East, riding high on camel-back, to fill with sweets and
+playthings. Considerate children, too, put out a handful of straw for
+the tired beasts who have journeyed so far over the Milky Way. On some
+balconies the morning sun beholds rocking-horses and rocking-donkeys,
+make-believe theatres and bull-rings, with toy images of soldiers,
+bulls and Holy Families; but if the child has been naughty and
+displeased the Magi, his poor little shoes will stand empty and
+ashamed.
+
+The dramatic instinct, so strong in Spaniards, is strikingly
+manifested in the children's games. These little people are devoted to
+the theatre, too, and may be seen in force at the matinées in the
+Apolo, Lara, and Zarzuela. Afternoon performances are given only on
+Sundays and the other Catholic _fiestas_, which last, numerous enough,
+are well within reach of the Puritan conscience. At these matinées
+more than half the seats in the house are occupied by juvenile
+ticket-holders, from rows of vociferous urchins in the galleries, to
+round-eyed babies cooing over their nurses' shoulders. If the play is
+an extravaganza, abounding in magic and misadventure, the rapture of
+the childish audience is at its height.
+
+The close attention with which mere three-year-olds follow the action
+is astonishing. "_Bonito!_" lisping voices cry after each fantastic
+ballet, and wee white hands twinkle up and down in time with the merry
+music. When the clown divests himself, one by one, of a score of
+waistcoats, or successively pulls thirty or forty smiling dairy-maids
+out of a churn, little arithmeticians all over the house call out the
+count and dispute his numbers with him. When the dragon spits his
+shower of sparks, when chairs sidle away from beneath the unfortunates
+who would sit down or suddenly rise with them toward the ceiling, when
+signboards whirl, and dinners frisk up chimney, cigars puff out into
+tall hats, and umbrellas fire off bullets, the hubbub of wonder and
+delight drowns the voices of the actors.
+
+The house is never still for one single instant. Babies cry wearily,
+nurses murmur soothingly, mystified innocents pipe out questions,
+papas rebuke and explain, exasperated old bachelors hiss for silence,
+saucy boys hiss back for fun--all together the Madrid matinée affords
+a far better opportunity to study child life than to hear the comedy
+upon the boards.
+
+The boy king of Spain is, of course, a fascinating figure to his child
+subjects. We were told at San Sebastian, where the Queen Regent has a
+summer palace, that on those red-letter days when the king takes a sea
+dip, children come running from far and near to see him step into the
+surf, with two stalwart soldiers gripping the royal little fists. And
+no sooner has the Court returned to the sumptuous, anxious palace of
+Madrid, than the boy bathers of San Sebastian delight themselves in
+playing king, mincing down the beach under the pompous military escort
+that they take turns in furnishing one another.
+
+In Madrid, too, the sightseeing crowds that gather before the royal
+palace or at the doors of the _Iglesia del Buen Suceso_, where the
+Queen Regent, with her "august children," sometimes attends the
+_Salve_ on Saturday afternoons, are thickly peppered with little
+folks, eager to "see the king." They are often disappointed, for the
+precious life is jealously guarded, especially while the Carlist cloud
+still broods above the throne. During my stay in Madrid, a man with a
+revolver under his coat was arrested on suspicion in the vestibule of
+the theatre known as _La Comédia_, where the queen was passing the
+evening. Sceptical Madrid shrugged its shoulders and said: "Stuff and
+nonsense! When the Ministers want the queen to sign a paper that isn't
+to her liking, they make a great show of devotion and pounce down on
+some poor devil as an anarchist, to frighten her into being meek and
+grateful." And, in fact, the prisoner was almost immediately released
+for lack of any incriminating evidence. For weeks after, nevertheless,
+the royal movements were more difficult to forecast, and on the daily
+drives the kinglet was often missing from the family group.
+
+But, undiscouraged, every afternoon the children would fringe the
+palace side of the _Plaza de Oriente_, hoping to see the royal
+carriage go or come with their young sovereign, whose portrait, a
+wistful, boyish face above a broad lace collar, is printed in one of
+their school reading books over the inscription, "To the Head of the
+State honor and obedience are due." Expectant youngsters, in the
+all-enveloping black pinafores that remind the eye of Paris, with book
+satchels made of gay carpeting over the shoulder, would shake out
+their smudgy handkerchiefs, often stamped with the likenesses of
+famous _toreros_, and help themselves to one another's hats in
+readiness to salute; but the elegant landau, preceded by an escort of
+two horsemen, dashes by so swiftly that their long waiting would be
+rewarded only by the briefest glimpse of bowing bonnets and of a
+small gloved hand touching the military cap that shades a childish
+face.
+
+It is a pale and sober little face as I have seen it, but Madrileños
+resent this impression and insist that his youthful Majesty is "sturdy
+enough," and as merry as need be. They say that the buoyancy which he
+inherits from his father is crossed by strange fits of brooding, due
+to his mother's blood, but that he is, in the main, a merry-hearted
+child. Although he has masters for his studies now, his affection
+still clings to his Austrian governess, whom, none the less, he dearly
+loves to tease. When she is honored by an invitation to drive with the
+Queen Regent, for example, Alphonsito hastens to hide her hat and then
+joins most solicitously in her fluttered search, until her suspicion
+darts upon him, and his prank breaks down in peals of laughter. Madrid
+was especially sensitive about him last year, for he, Alfonso XIII,
+godson of Pope Leo XIII, was thirteen years of age--an iteration of
+the unlucky omen that really ought to be satisfied with the loss of
+the Spanish colonies. His mother, in honor of his birthday, May
+seventeenth, distributed five thousand dollars among orphan asylums
+and other charities, and held a grand reception in the Hall of the
+Ambassadors, where the slight lad in cadet uniform, enthroned beside
+the Queen Regent between the two great lions of gilded bronze,
+received the congratulations of a long procession of bowing ministers,
+admirals, captain generals, prelates, and those haughty grandees of
+Spain whose ancient privilege it is to wear their hats in the royal
+presence; but the shrinkage of his realm since his last birthday must
+have been uppermost in the mind of even the young lord of the
+festival. _Pobrecito!_ one wonders what thoughts go on behind those
+serious brows of his, when, for instance, he looks down from his
+palace windows at the daily ceremony of guard-mounting in the
+courtyard. It is such a gallant sight; the martial music is so
+stirring; the cavalry in blue and silver sit their white steeds so
+proudly, with the sun glistening on their drawn swords and the wind
+tossing their long, white, horsehair plumes, that all these tales of
+defeat and loss must puzzle the sore boy heart and cast confusing
+shadows down the path before him.
+
+Little as the Spaniards love the Queen Regent, to whom they cannot
+pardon her two cardinal offences of being a "foreigner" and of
+disliking the bull-fight, they have a certain affection for Alfonso
+XIII, "the only child born a king since Christ." Indeed, Spain seems
+to have been always sympathetic toward childhood in palaces. Enter
+this wonderful _Armería_ of Madrid, where those plumed and armored
+kings, on richly caparisoned chargers, whom we have come to know in
+the paintings of the _Museo del Prado_, seem to have leapt from the
+canvases to greet us here in still more lifelike guise, albeit not
+over graciously, with horse reined back and mighty lance at poise. Any
+fine morning they may all come clattering out into the _Plaza de
+Armas_--and where will the United States be then? Here stands a
+majestic row of them--Philip II, in a resplendent suit of gold-inlaid
+plate-armor; Maximilian, whose visor gives him the fierce hooked beak
+of an eagle; Sebastian of Portugal, with nymphs embossed in cunning
+work on his rich breastplate; and Charles V, three times over, in
+varieties of imperial magnificence.
+
+  [Illustration: "JESUS OF THE PASSION"]
+
+But opposite these stern warriors is a hollow square of boy princes,
+and of noble _niños_ whose visors hide their identities in long
+oblivion. The armor of these childish figures is daintily wrought,
+with tender touches of ruffs and cuffs, scallops and flutings and
+rosettes. Often only the upper half of the body is incased in steel,
+the slender legs playing the dandy in puffed trousers of striped
+velvet--scarlet, green, and buff--silk hose, and satin slippers.
+Little Philip III proudly displays a diminutive round shield, with a
+relief of battle scenes in gold. The plate armor of little Philip IV
+is stamped with lions and castles, eagles and spears. And his little
+son, Don Baltasar Carlos, bestrides a spirited pony and wears at the
+back of his helmet a tuft of garnet feathers.
+
+The _Prado_ galleries abound in royal children. This same _infante_,
+Don Baltasar, is seen here in the foreground of a lonely landscape,
+with desolate blue hills beyond and driving clouds above. But all the
+more bright and winsome glows the form of the six-year-old horseman,
+the gold-fringed, pink sash that crosses his breast streaming out far
+behind with the speed of his fearless gallop. Supreme among the
+_Prado_ children, of course, is the little daughter of Philip IV, the
+central figure of the world-renowned _Las Meninas_. All in vain does
+her charming maid of honor kneel to her with the golden cup; all in
+vain does the dwarf tease the drowsy dog. The solemn puss, undiverted,
+will not stir from her pose nor alter the set of her small features
+until the artist, standing half disdainfully before his easel, gives
+the word. She has waited for it now hard upon two hundred and fifty
+years, but the centuries beat in vain against that inflexible bit of
+propriety.
+
+Even the royal burial vaults beneath the grim Escorial have in their
+chill grandeur of marble halls an especial Panteon for babies,
+princely innocents whose lives are reckoned in months more often than
+in years. Gold and blue and red brighten their great white sepulchre,
+and above the altar smiles the Christ Child, with the graven words,
+"Suffer the children to come unto me." But for Alfonso XIII a sombre
+sarcophagus waits in the haughtiest and gloomiest of all the Panteons,
+where only kings, and queens who were mothers of kings, may lie.
+
+It is not royal childhood alone that is dear to this strange,
+romantic, monstrously inconsistent heart of Spain. The cruelty of
+Spaniards to horses and donkeys sickens even the roughest Englishman,
+yet almost every voice softens in speaking to a child, and during my
+six months in Spanish cities I saw nothing of that street brutality
+toward the little ones which forces itself upon daily notice in
+Liverpool and London. Spanish children are too often ill-cared for,
+but despite the abuses of ignorant motherhood and fatherhood, such
+vivid, vivacious, bewitching little people as they are! Enter a
+Spanish schoolroom and see how vehemently the small brown hands are
+wagged in air, how the black eyes dance and the dimples play, what a
+stir and bustle, what a young exuberance of energy! They race to the
+blackboards like colts out at pasture. They laugh at everything, these
+sons of "the grave Spaniard," and even the teacher will duck his head
+behind the desk for a half-hidden ecstasy over some dunce's blunder or
+some rogue's detected trick.
+
+But their high spirits never make them unmindful of those courtesies
+of life in which they have been so carefully trained. There is an
+old-fashioned exaggeration about their set phrases of politeness. Just
+as the casual caller kisses the lady's feet, in words, and she
+reciprocates by a verbal kissing of his hand, so the school children
+respond to the roll call with a glib: "Your servant, sir." Ask a
+well-bred boy his name, and he rattles back, "Jesus Herrera y
+La-Chica, at the service of God and yourself." They learn these
+amenities of speech with their first lispings. I was much taken aback
+one day in Seville by a child of eighteen months. Not in the least
+expecting this infant, whose rosy face was bashfully snuggled into his
+young aunt's neck, to understand, I said to her, "What a fine little
+fellow!" Whereupon Master Roly-poly suddenly sat up straight on her
+arm, ducked his head in my direction, and gravely enunciated, "_Es
+favor que Usted me hace_"--"It is a compliment you pay me." I could
+hardly recover from the shock in time to make the stereotyped
+rejoinder, "_No es favor, es justicia_"--"No compliment, but the
+truth." To this Don Chubbykins sweetly returned, "_Mil gracias_"--"A
+thousand thanks," and I closed this uncanny dialogue with the due
+response, "_No las merece_"--"It does not merit them."
+
+Servants, neighbors, passers-by, beggars, all prompt the children in
+these shibboleths of good manners, adorning the precept with example.
+"Would you like to go with us to the picture gallery this afternoon?"
+I once asked a laddie of artistic tastes at a boarding-house table.
+"_Si, señora_," he replied, whereupon several of the boarders, greatly
+scandalized, hastened to remind him, but in the gentlest of tones, of
+the essential addition, "_con mucho gusto_" to which we were bound to
+reply, "The pleasure will be ours." The girls, even more than the
+boys, are bred in these formal fashions of intercourse. Every morning
+they ask if you have rested well, and express grief or gratification,
+according to your response. In Mrs. Gulick's school, mere midgets of
+six and eight, returning from class, will not close the doors of their
+rooms if you are in sight, though perhaps seated at a reading table in
+the farther end of the corridor, lest they should appear inhospitable.
+On our return from Italica, a thirsty child of seven, heated to
+exhaustion with the sun and fun of that Andalusian picnic, refused to
+touch the anise-seed water which some good Samaritan had handed up to
+the dusty carriage, until the glass had been offered to every one
+else, driver included, leaving, in the sequel, little enough for her.
+On our midnight return from the _Feria_, this same _niña_ of gentle
+memory, staggering and half crying with sleepiness, would nevertheless
+not precede any of her elders in entering the home door. "After you,"
+she sobbed, with hardly voice enough to add, "And may you all rest
+well!" "The same to you," chorussed the adults, trooping by, and her
+faint murmur followed, "Many thanks."
+
+"Shall I give you this fan when I go away," I asked her once, "or
+would you rather have it now to take to the party?" She wanted it then
+and there, but what she answered was, "I shall be best pleased to take
+it when you like best to give it."
+
+You must beware of saying to a little Spanish maid, "What a beautiful
+rosebud in your hair!" Instantly the hand is busy with the pins. "It
+is at your disposal." You hastily protest, "A thousand thanks, but no,
+no, no! It is very well placed where it is." Off comes the flower,
+notwithstanding, and is fastened into your belt. For when the elder
+sister has insisted on giving you (until the next ball) those dancing
+slippers which you so rashly admired, and the sister's _novio_ went
+home the night before without his cloak, because you had approved its
+colors (although he sent his man around for it before breakfast), what
+can the children do but follow suit? Even their form of "Now I Lay Me"
+is touched with their quaint politeness:--
+
+     "Jesus, Joseph, Mary,
+       Your little servant keep,
+     While, with your kind permission,
+       I lay me down to sleep."
+
+The precocity of Spanish children is a recognized fact. An educational
+expert, a Frenchman who holds a chair in an English university,
+assured us that beyond a doubt Spanish children, for the first dozen
+years of life, develop more rapidly than any other children of Europe.
+Yet, although these clever little Spaniards are so punctiliously
+taught to put the pleasure of others before their own, they are
+treated with universal indulgence. Soldiers lining the curbstones on
+occasion of a royal progress will let the children press in beside
+them and cling to their valorous legs, until the military array seems
+variegated with a Kindergarten. My farewell glimpse of Toledo, on
+Corpus Christi Day, makes a pretty picture in memory. The red-robed
+cardinal, who had come to the station to take his train, was fairly
+stormed by all the children within sight, clamoring for his blessing.
+In vain the attendant priests tried to scatter the throng, and ladies
+of high degree, planting their chairs in a circle about the prelate,
+acted as a laughing body-guard. It was all of no avail. The little
+people danced up and down with eagerness, dodged under arms, and
+slipped between elbows. They knelt upon the cardinal's very feet,
+rapturously kissing his red-gloved hand and clasping to their
+pinafores and blouses the sacred trinkets he distributed. And he,
+patting the bobbing black pates, wherever he could get a chance,
+smiled on the little ones and forbade them not.
+
+The affection lavished on children in the household circle is often
+poetic and passionate. I observed one day a brusque young fellow of
+twenty-four, whom we had thought rather a hard, catch-penny sort of
+person, suddenly gather a four-year-old nephew to his heart and cover
+the dimpled face with kisses, while the look in his own black eyes was
+the look of a St. Anthony. I stood once in a crowded cathedral and
+lost all sense of the service in contemplation of an ugly manikin,
+with coarse features and receding forehead, who held a frail baby boy
+tight against his breast. This was a blue-eyed, fair-haired wean, with
+a serious, far-away expression, and from time to time, attracted by
+the gilt of the ceiling, he raised a tiny pink fore-finger and pointed
+upward, while the father's animal face, never turned away from the
+child, became transfigured with love and worship. He took the baby
+out, when it had fallen asleep upon his shoulder, and it was good to
+see that dense throng open and make a lane for him, every man, however
+brutal or frivolous his aspect, being careful not to jostle the
+drooping, golden head.
+
+But Spanish children, so caressed and so adored, are nevertheless
+modest in their bearing, and fall shyly back before a stranger. I
+remember a beaming grandfather displaying to us two blushing little
+men, bidding them open their eyes wide that we might contrast colors,
+turn back to back that we might measure heights, and in various ways
+put their small selves on show, all which they did in mute obedience,
+but at the word of release flew together, flung their arms about each
+other's necks, rolled under the nearest table, and curled up into the
+least possible bunch of bashful agony.
+
+The pictures, frescos, and carvings of Spanish churches often reflect
+the looks of Spanish childhood. The Holy Family gives a wide range of
+opportunity, especially in the ministering cherubs. There is a
+crucifix in one of the twenty-two aisle chapels of Toledo cathedral,
+where three broken-hearted mites of angels, just three crying babies,
+are piteously striving to draw out the nails from the Sufferer's hands
+and feet. Many of the saint-groups admit of child figures, too, as the
+St. Christopher, which almost invariably appears as a colossal nave
+painting, "the Goliath of frescos."
+
+It would be strange, indeed, if children were not beloved in the
+country of Murillo. Spain has let the most of his beggar-boy pictures
+go to foreign collections, but she has cherished his Holy Families and
+cherub-peopled Annunciations. Such ecstatic rogues as those Andalusian
+cherubs are! Their restless ringlets catch azure shadows from the
+Virgin's mantle; they perch tiptoe on the edges of her crescent moon;
+they hold up a mirror to her glory and peep over the frame to see
+themselves; they pelt St. Francis with roses; they play bo-beep from
+behind the fleecy folds of cloud; they try all manner of aerial
+gymnastics. But a charm transcending even theirs dwells in those baby
+Christs that almost spring from the Madonna's arms to ours, in those
+boy Christs that touch all boyhood with divinity. The son of the
+Jewish carpenter, happy in his father's workshop with bird and dog;
+the shepherd lad whose earnest eyes look toward his waiting flock;
+the lovely playmates, radiant with innocent beauty, who bend together
+above the water of life--from these alone might Catholic Spain have
+learned the sacredness of childhood. But Spain first showed Murillo
+the vision that he rendered back to her.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+THE YOLK OF THE SPANISH EGG
+
+     "From Madrid to Heaven, and in Heaven a little window for
+     looking back to Madrid."--_Popular Saying._
+
+
+Few foreigners can understand the sentiment of Spaniards for their
+capital. Madrid is the crown city of Spain, not by manifest destiny,
+but by decree of Philip II, who, as his nature was, better loved the
+harsh Castilian steppe, baked by summer suns and chilled by
+treacherous winds, than the romantic sierras and gracious river
+valleys where earlier royal seats had been established. If in Madrid
+the desert blossoms like the rose, it is a leafless rose, for the city
+has no suburbs. It lacks both the charm of environment so potent in
+Granada and Seville and the charm of ancient story, which these share
+with those other bygone courts--Toledo, Valladolid, Valencia,
+Saragossa. It is not a vital organ of modern European civilization,
+like artistic Paris or strenuous London. And yet it is more
+cosmopolitan, and hence less distinctively Spanish than other cities
+of the Peninsula. It is devoted to the bull-fight and the lottery,
+abounds in beggars and prostitutes, does not take naturally to
+commerce, and is sadly behindhand with popular education. Yet
+Madrileños cannot be persuaded that the skies behold its equal, and
+even over the Anglo-Saxon stranger its fascination gradually steals.
+
+In the first place, the mirth of the home life beguiles the serious
+foreigner. Spanish households have a pleasantness quite their own. All
+the natural vivacity and kindliness of the people find free play at
+home, where servants sing and children prattle, ladies chatter and
+gentlemen jest, all in an atmosphere of ease, leisure, and spontaneous
+sociability. The father is not preoccupied with business, the mother
+has never dreamed of belonging to a woman's club, the children have
+little taste for reading, and few books to read. So talking is the
+order of the day, and, Sancho Panza! how they talk! Lingering half the
+morning over the _desayuno_ of thick, cinnamon-flavored chocolate,
+into which are dipped strips of bread, two-thirds of the afternoon
+over the _almuerzo_, a substantial repast of meat and vegetables,
+fruit and _dulces_, and all the evening over the _comida_, where soup
+and the national dish of _puchero_ are added to the noontide bill of
+fare, they chatter, chatter, chatter, like the teeth of Harry Gill.
+
+Still, as of old, Spaniards are temperate in food and drink. "It's as
+rare to see a Spaniard a drunkard as a German sober," wrote Middleton
+three centuries ago. They use more water than wine, and although they
+have a grand appetite for sweets, they take them in comparatively
+simple forms. The national lack of enterprise is conspicuous even
+here, for dearly as the Spaniard dotes on chocolate and sugar, Madrid
+does not make her own chocolate creams, but imports them from Paris to
+sell, when they are too hard to eat, at a price too high to pay.
+
+But smoking and talking are indulgences which Madrileños carry to
+excess. Lounging on the balcony, a gayly painted case of paper
+cigarettes at hand, they will pass hours in bantering their wives,
+whom they worship much as they worship the images of Mary, delighting
+to dress them in fine clothes and glittering trinkets, and expecting
+in return, it is said, their pardon for a multitude of sins. And when
+my lord saunters forth to "rest" in one of the iron chairs that line
+the promenades, or in a café window, or at an open-air table before
+one of the frequent stalls of cooling beverages, the women of the
+house flock together in some airy corner, stitching away on their
+endless embroideries, and receiving, with "a million kisses" and a
+chorus of shrill welcomes, the mantilla-veiled ladies who come to
+call.
+
+If the afternoon is frying hot, it is just possible that the
+gallivanting don will bethink himself to send home a tray of
+_horchata_, a snowy, chilly, puckery refreshment, eaten by aid of
+wafers in the form of little tubes that look and taste much like
+wrapping paper. This treat gives fresh animation to the emulous
+tongues. The slightest neighborhood incident, as recounted in such a
+group, takes on a poetic vividness and a dramatic intensity, and when
+it is all told over again at the dinner-table, excitement waxes so
+high that long after the dishes and cloth have been removed the family
+may still be found seated around the board, flashing a thousand lights
+of suggestion and surmise on that dull bit of scandal. The husband
+cannot cease from discussion long enough to read the evening paper,
+nor the wife to send the little ones to bed, and midnight may find the
+three generations, from grandfather to four-year-old, still talking
+with might and main.
+
+Accustomed guests come at once to the dining room, ready to contribute
+their share to the lively clash of voices, or to take part in one of
+the characteristic games of a Spanish family circle, as lottery. In
+this favorite pastime, victory, including a goodly handful of coppers,
+falls to him whose checked and numbered square of pasteboard is most
+quickly filled with beans. These are placed on the squares called by
+the bag-holder, who draws numbers haphazard from his sibylline sack.
+When the small hours come in, the company may adjourn to the sala for
+dancing and music, but conversation under cover of these gushes on
+more impetuously than ever--the Castilian art of arts.
+
+One of the chief graces of the _tertulias_ consists in their
+informality--their frank simplicity. Even on a saint day--a day
+consecrated to the saint whose name some member of the family
+bears--while all the nearer friends drop in for congratulation, with
+perhaps a gift of flowers, in case of a lady, or sweetmeats for a
+child, the _tertulia_ requires no further exercise of hospitality than
+an open door and a feast of words. There is more blithesomeness, for
+_hay santo en casa_ (there is a saint in the house), but no more
+parade, with its preliminary fret and fuss.
+
+The streets of Madrid, too, have a curious fascination. In the morning
+hours there is the picturesque confusion of the market. The donkeys
+are unladen here, there, and everywhere, and the sidewalks and squares
+promptly dotted over with bright little heaps of delicious Toledo
+cherries, Valencian apricots, Murcian lemons, and all the greens of
+the season. The peasant women, squatted among their lettuces and
+cucumbers, seem much more interested in gossiping with their neighbors
+than in securing customers. Babies tumble about, crushing the pinks
+and roses, and cabmen good-naturedly pick their way as best they can
+among these various vegetable and human obstacles. Venders of books,
+too, like to pave the street with rows of open volumes, whose pages
+are soon dimmed with dust, and artisans, especially cobblers, set up
+their benches just outside their doors, and add the click of their
+hammers to the general din.
+
+In the early afternoon the shady side of the street is lined with the
+outstretched forms of workingmen, taking the indispensable siesta.
+Some rest their black pates on arm or folded jacket or bag of tools,
+but plenty of bronzed laborers slumber peacefully all prone on the hot
+paving, with not so much as a cabbage leaf for a pillow. Beggars lie
+along the stone benches of the _paseos_ and parks, cabmen sleep on
+their cabs, porters over their thresholds, and I once turned away from
+a church I had come far to visit, not having the hardihood to waken
+the verger, who, keys in hand, was snoring like an organ, sprawled
+across half a dozen granite steps.
+
+As the cool of evening approaches, the overcrowded houses of the poor
+pour forth entire families into the street, where supper is cooked and
+eaten, and all manner of domestic operations carried on. Before every
+door is at least one black-eyed baby, in a little wooden cage
+something like a churn, with rim running under the armpits, so that
+the child, safe from straying or falling, may be left to his own
+devices. As darkness deepens, out come the stars and the _serenos_.
+These latter, in Madrid, no longer cry fair weather, but they hold the
+keys of the houses--an arrangement that I never learned to take
+seriously.
+
+Returning from visit or theatre in the evening, I found it difficult
+to say with requisite solemnity to the driver, "Would you be so kind
+as to shout for Celestino?" The driver promptly roars, "Celestino!"
+and twinkling lights come bobbing toward us from far and near, but no
+Celestino. "He's in the wineshop," suggests Isidro, whose charge
+begins three houses above. "He's eating iron," asserts Pedro, in the
+phrase describing those colloquies which a Spanish suitor carries on
+with his divinity through the grating. Then we all chorus,
+"Celestino!" and again, "Celestino!" and again, "Celestino!"
+
+At this a cloaked figure comes running across the square, waving a
+lantern over his head and vociferating jocund apologies: "I regret it
+extremely. I am stricken with sorrow. But at the first call I was
+wetting my lips at the fountain, and at the second I was pausing to
+exchange four words only with the lady of my soul, and at the third I
+said _Vamos!_ and at the fourth--look you, I am here." So he unlocks
+the door and lights the stairway with his lantern until I have
+ascended the first flight, when he cheerily calls out, "_Adios!_" and
+shuts me into darkness which I am expected to illuminate for my
+further climb by striking matches.
+
+Madrid streets are by no means altogether delectable. Some are broad
+and well kept, but others are narrow, dirty, and malodorous. Worst of
+all, to my own thinking, is the Madrid stare, which, hardly less
+offensive than the Paris stare, is more universal. It is amusing to
+see how fearlessly a matron of eighteen sallies forth alone, while
+many Madrid spinsters of fifty would not go a block unattended. Nor
+are annoyances confined to staring. Even in reputable shops a woman
+soon learns to be on her guard, when her attention is especially
+called to book or picture, lest it prove "a silliness."
+
+Madrid is better than the cities of Andalusia, and worse than the
+cities of northern Spain, in its treatment of women. A young Spanish
+girl cannot walk alone, however sedately, in Seville, without a
+running fire of salutations--"Oh, the pretty face!" "What cheeks of
+rose!" "Blessed be thy mother!" "Give me a little smile!" And even in
+Madrid, Spanish girls of my acquaintance have broken their fans across
+the faces of men who tried to catch a kiss in passing.
+
+In Madrid, as almost everywhere in Spain, begging is a leading
+industry. So many beg from laziness or greed that it is easy to lose
+patience, the most essential part of a traveller's Spanish outfit. The
+ear is wearied by the everlasting drone and whine: "Oh, dear lady, for
+the love of God! All day my children have had no bread. Give me five
+_centimos_, only five _centimos_, and Heaven will pay you back. Lady!
+lady! lady! lady! Five _centimos_, in the name of all the saints!" And
+the eye is offended by the continual obtrusion of ulcers, cripplings,
+and deformities. No less than Seville and Granada, Madrid abounds with
+child beggars. There were two jolly little cripples on the Prado, who
+used to race, each on his one leg, to overtake me before I should
+reach the Museo steps. Another boy, on whose face I never saw a smile,
+sat at the corner of a street I daily passed, holding out two
+shapeless blocks of hands. By the gate of the Buen Retiro was
+stationed a blind man, with a girl wean on his knee. It was pathetic
+and amusing to see him feeding her the supper of bread and milk, for
+the spoon in his groping hand and the pout of her baby mouth often
+failed to make connection.
+
+The prevalence of eye disease in Spain is probably due to sun, to
+dust, and to generations of poverty. The pounding of a blind man's
+stick upon the pavement is one of the most common city sounds. The
+charitable may often be seen leading the blind across the streets. I
+tried it myself once with an imperious old woman, who clung to the
+curbstone some twenty minutes before she could muster courage for the
+plunge, lecturing me fluently all the time on the dangers of a rash
+disposition. There are, of course, many cases of fraud--cases where,
+when the day's work is over, the blind see and the lame walk. One of
+the popular _coplas_ has its fling at these:--
+
+     "The armless man has written a letter;
+       The blind man finds the writing clear;
+     The mute is reading it aloud,
+       And the deaf man runs to hear."
+
+Yet it is certain that among the beggars of Madrid is a heartrending
+amount of genuine misery. One day I passed an aged _ciego_, sitting on
+a doorstep, in the Alcalá, his white head bowed upon his breast in
+such utter weariness of dejection that I paused to find him a copper.
+But better charity than mine came to comfort that worn heart. A lame
+old peanut woman limped up to him, with the pity of the wretched for
+the wretched. She drew from her apron pocket a coin which I had rarely
+seen--_dos centimos_, two-fifths of a cent in value. An Austrian, who
+had lived in Spain four years, told me he had never once encountered
+that paltry piece of money. But she could not spare it all. "Hast thou
+one _centimo_ for change, brother mine?" she asked. And the blind
+man's sensitive fingers actually found in his lean leather purse that
+tiny metal bit, which only the poorest of the poor ever see in
+circulation. He gravely kissed the coin she gave and made with it the
+sign of the cross on brow and breast, saying, "Blessed be this gift,
+my sister, which thy mercy has bestowed on a man of many troubles! May
+our Mother Mary keep for thee a thornless rose!"
+
+"And may God, who sends the cold according to our rags, lighten all
+thy griefs! Rest thou in peace," she replied.
+
+"Go thou with God," was his answer.
+
+Begging was a recognized and licensed industry in Madrid a year ago,
+though a bill of reform, whose fate I have failed to learn, was then
+under consideration. A mother would gather her brood about her and go
+forth for her day's work. They beg up and down their accustomed beat
+during the morning, eat as their gains allow, lie down in the dust
+together for the afternoon siesta, and rise to be diligent in business
+during the hours of fashionable promenade. They stop pedestrians,
+chase carriages, press into shops to torment the customers at the
+counter, and reach beseeching palms through the open windows of cafés.
+Gentlemen escorting ladies are their peculiar victims, for well they
+know that many a man who never gives under other circumstances is
+ashamed to seem ungenerous under survey of starry eyes.
+
+There is only one phrase that will shake off the professional beggar,
+"May God aid you!" On hearing this he makes it a point of religious
+honor to fall back. But as I could not use that formula without
+feeling myself something between a shirk and a hypocrite, I had to get
+on as best I could with the ineffectual, "Pardon me, my brother," to
+which should properly be added _Por Dios_ (for God's sake).
+
+The Spanish mendicant knows nothing of the Anglo-Saxon feeling, "To
+beg I am ashamed." No Rare Ben Jonson has thundered in his ears:--
+
+     "Art thou a man? and sham'st thou not to beg?
+     To practise such a servile kind of life?
+     Why, were thy education ne'er so mean,
+     Having thy limbs, a thousand fairer courses
+     Offer themselves to thy election.
+     Either the wars might still supply thy wants
+     Or service of some virtuous gentleman,
+     Or honest labor: nay, what can I name,
+     But would become thee better than to beg?"
+
+From the Spanish point of view, on the contrary, it is manual labor,
+not beggary, that stains the escutcheon. A German lady of my
+acquaintance said to a strongly built man who was pleading for alms,
+"If you will carry my bag up these stairs, I will gladly pay you."
+Deeply insulted, he folded his cloak about him with hidalgo dignity,
+saying, "Madame, I am a beggar, not a laborer." Certain monasteries
+send out brothers, with plates and bags, on a daily begging
+round--brothers who may belong to the first families of Spain. The
+Church is often cited as indorsing mendicancy. Extolling almsgiving as
+a prime virtue, and itself maintaining a vast number of charitable
+institutions, it has not yet assimilated modern methods of relief.
+
+A favorite story for children, used as supplementary reading in the
+schools, is called "The Medal of the Virgin." This is, in fact, a
+Roman Catholic version of "Fortunatus's Purse." Its small heroine,
+Mary of the Angels, is an orphan, defrauded by a miser of her rich
+inheritance and treated with barbarity by the uncle and aunt for whom
+she is an uncomplaining drudge. But once, in festive hour, they give
+her five _centimos_, which this generous innocent promptly bestows on
+a beggar woman, who holds a baby in her ragged arms. In return, the
+beggar gives the child a queer, old-fashioned mite of a coin, which
+turns out to have the Wall Street quality of heaving up a little
+mountain of gold above itself every hour or two.
+
+Mary of the Angels sallies forth for a tour of the country, pouring
+handfuls of gold into the laps of the beggars who sit at the church
+doors and city gates, until she is escorted wherever she goes by an
+army of the halt and blind singing her praises. At last, having given
+away such Pyrenees of gold that not a beggar could be found in all the
+land for a century to come, the footsore little philanthropist begs
+the Virgin to relieve her of the coin. The Madonna descends in a beam
+of light, the Christ Child smiling from her arms, yet in the radiant
+group Mary of the Angels recognizes the objects of her earliest
+charity. "For I," explains the Madonna, "am the holy beggar from
+heaven. The poor of the earth give me their tears and prayers, and for
+such alms do I hold out my hand to all the sorrowful."
+
+Yet the progressive element in Spain is all the more ashamed of the
+beggars because they are not ashamed of themselves, and a few years
+may see Madrid swept as clear of mendicancy as is San Sebastian
+to-day.
+
+Madrid is such an easy-going city that one hardly realizes at first
+how well it performs certain of its functions. Its water supply, for
+instance, is excellent, although when one sees the picturesque groups,
+with those same clay water-jars over which Rebecca smiled on Jacob,
+lingering about the gray stone fountains, one expects a patriarchal
+flavor in the liquid. The tramway service of Madrid, everything
+radiating from the _Puerta del Sol_, is most convenient, although
+electricity is a little slow in coming to the relief of horse-flesh.
+The shops, fairly well stocked, gild commerce with Spanish graces. You
+accept a chair, you pass the courtesies of the day, the gentleman who
+serves you, often with cigar in mouth, is seldom sure as to just what
+goods he has on hand, and is still more rarely dogmatic as to their
+price.
+
+The tug of war, however, comes in getting them delivered. Ten days
+before quitting Madrid I bought at one of the best of the _librerias_
+a number of books, including several illustrated catalogues of the
+Velázquez sala. These last were pretty trifles bound in white
+parchment, and as I intended them for gifts, I wanted fresh copies.
+"You wish them clean, all of them?" asked the proprietor, with an
+accent of surprise. I replied that I did, and would moreover be
+obliged if he could fit them with envelopes ready for mailing.
+Envelopes he had none, but he promised to tie them up in separate
+parcels. "And books and bill will come without fail this afternoon?"
+He looked pained to the heart. "This very morning, señora. You will
+find them awaiting you on your return." On the third day I sent a
+note, and on the fifth a boy arrived with the bulk of my purchase, but
+no catalogues nor bill. I explained to the lad, who smilingly besought
+me to give myself no concern, that I was on the point of leaving the
+city for good, and preferred not to go away in debt; but the days
+passed, and my inability to extort that reckoning became the jest of
+the household. At last, driven to desperate measures, I went
+through noonday heat to the store, and actually found that
+procrastinating bookseller scattering cigar ashes over a little heap
+of catalogues, while he contemplated the pictures of each copy in
+turn. "Behold, señora," he exclaimed, as serenely as if not ten
+minutes had elapsed since our parting, "here I have for you immaculate
+booklets, stainless, faultless, such as will rejoice those fortunate
+friends to whom you have the amiability to send them. And I am this
+instant about to prepare them for the post with inviolate security."
+
+  [Illustration: "CHRIST OF THE SEVEN WORDS"]
+
+I expressed my obligations, but entreated him to draw up the account
+and let me settle it then and there, as I was within twenty-four hours
+of departure. "And in travelling," I added apologetically, "it is
+difficult to send back money." At the obnoxious word he flung up hands
+and eyebrows. "Señora!" I left the shop, feeling vaguely that I had
+been guilty of a flagrant indelicacy, as well as black ingratitude.
+The catalogues, very slightly wrapped, arrived on the morrow, just in
+time to be thrust into my shawl strap, and I paid the bill amid the
+final agitation, so unfavorable to arithmetic, of porters and
+farewells.
+
+I had worse fortune in trying to subscribe for a certain popular
+periodical. I went to the office in the designated business hours, to
+find that, of the three men who should have been there, one had
+already gone, one had not arrived, and the third had "stepped out for
+a little rest." The janitor left in charge, a sympathetic person who
+could not read nor write, thought if I would return on Sunday at my
+luncheon hour, there might be somebody there qualified to receive my
+subscription and address, but, he sagely added, "in this world we are
+sure of nothing."
+
+Madrid possesses the _Biblioteca Nacional_ with valuable manuscripts
+and something like one million books, handsomely housed, where
+arrangements are made for over three hundred readers, but here, as in
+the other Spanish cities, public libraries in the American sense of
+libraries largely used by the general public are practically
+non-existent. The bookstores, too, except for the latest Spanish
+publications, leave much to be desired. As a rule, one can get only
+the most meagre information concerning texts and editions of the
+national classics, and the supply of new French novels or new German
+plays is far less complete than the stock of Paris gloves and German
+cutlery. This last, so canny have the honest Teutons grown, is usually
+engraved _Toledo_.
+
+In variety of weather, however, Madrid surpasses all expectations,
+furnishing the sultriest heat, the chilliest cold, the dustiest dust,
+and the most prodigious crashes of thunder and lumps of hail to be
+found in the meteorological market, and all these within a few hours
+of one another. But what with fans, _braseros_, balconies,
+_horchaterias_, an army of street waterers, and, most essential of
+all, an inexhaustible fund of good humor, the Madrileño contrives to
+live on friendly terms with his climate, although he dares not lay
+aside his cloak before "the fortieth of May."
+
+Apart from bull-fights and riots, those rages of excitement that seem
+to indicate a periodical fevering of the southern blood, the Madrileño
+takes his pleasures with a dignified simplicity. The city is
+exceedingly rich in open squares, well-shaded parks, and long reaches
+of green promenade, and here, with several dozen cigarettes and a few
+coppers for water and _agráz_, he wiles the hours away, chatting with
+friends and admiring the ladies who roll past in spruce landaus. Over
+the gate of the social paradise of Madrid it must be written, "No
+admittance except in coaches," for a carriage seems essential to high
+life. Liveried coachman, rather than powdered butler, is the _sine qua
+non_. During the hot season this outdoor parade is in gay career at
+midnight, and whole families, babies and nurses included, may be seen
+gathered in festive knots around small refreshment tables, within
+sound of fountain spray and garden music. There are open-air concerts,
+and concerts in smoke-beclouded halls, greensward dances, and dances
+stepped on café tables among disordered clusters of bottles and
+glasses, and there is always the theatre, on which your Spaniard
+dotes.
+
+In the winter season there is opportunity to enjoy classic drama at
+the _Teatro Español_, where the Bernhardt of Spain, "La Guerrero,"
+supported by her grandee husband, Mendoza, holds sway. When I saw them
+they were using short farces of Cervantes and Lope de Rueda for
+curtain raisers to a romantic drama by Tirso de Molina and a modern
+society play by Echegaray. I saw them, too, in Zorrilla's singular
+dramatic version of "Don Juan," the only play allowed in Spanish
+theatres on the night of All Saints.
+
+From March to November, however, the _Teatro Español_ is closed, and
+there is little doing at the _Teatro Real_, an aristocratic temple of
+Italian opera. During the summer season the theatrical opportunities
+of Madrid are mainly limited to the popular _zarzuelas_, or operettas,
+four of which are usually given in an evening. Each theatre offers a
+new programme of these every night, but there is little of literary
+interest except, now and then, a taking trifle from the pen of
+Hartzenbusch or Echegaray.
+
+The Madrid theatre recks naught of early risers. The opening
+vaudeville is seldom under way before nine o'clock; the house is
+cleared after each performance, and often the encores and repetitions
+prolong a popular _zarzuela_ quite beyond the hour limit. On the other
+hand, if the audience is small, the opening piece may be cut down to
+the merest outline. I remember one such occasion when the boxes were
+so empty and the farce so familiar that the orchestra fairly chaffed
+the actors off the stage. "Enough, enough! Thou mayst withdraw!"
+chanted the lyric lover to an intruding servant. "And so mayst thou,"
+called out a voice from among the violins. "I've told my passion to
+the stars," continued the actor in his most mellifluous tenor, making
+the distant love of the Spanish stage to a lady who was smiling
+frankly on the audacious fiddler. "Poor stars!" interpolated this
+worthy so sympathetically that everybody laughed, the singer wound up
+his transports in the shortest possible order, and the remaining
+scenes were hardly more than pantomime. But such was the universal
+good nature and indifference to business exactitudes, that neither
+artists nor ticket-holders took this curtailment of their rights in
+umbrage.
+
+Among the excellences of Madrid must be counted her _museos_. The
+_Armería_, with its plumed and steel-clad warriors, all at tourney, is
+no mere lumber room of wicked old iron, as might have been expected,
+but a new canto of the "Faery Queene." The _Museo Naval_ still smells
+of the boundless brine and Isles of Spicery. The _Museo Arqueológico
+Nacional_ sweeps one, as on the magic carpet of Alhambra legend,
+through the entire tragedy of Spain. Here are the successive leaves of
+her strange picture-book--scratched, prehistoric flints, grass-woven
+Iberian sandals, rudely sculptured shapes in sandstone grasping wine
+cups that suggest whole Rubaiyats, Phoenician anchors, bronze tables
+of Roman laws, Moorish arabesques, mediæval altars, modern wares and
+fineries, while barbaric spoils of Peruvian idols, Mexican
+feather-shields, sacrificial stones, and figures of forest lords speak
+to the imagination of that vast colonial empire which rose out of a
+dream to melt again like very dreamstuff, leaving "not a rack behind."
+These I have seen, but there are twice as many more Madrid museums
+which I had not time to see, and which, I am told, are no less rich in
+rarities and no less effective in pictorial beauty of arrangement.
+
+Of the art galleries, who can say enough? The supreme _Museo del
+Prado_ so magnetizes pilgrim feet that it is hard to spare even a few
+hours for the _Académia de Bellas Artes_, with its grand Murillos and
+calm Zurbaráns, or the _Museo de Arte Moderno_, with its succession of
+canvases depicting scene upon scene of death, decay, murder,
+execution, starvation, battle, torture, frenzy. Whatever is most
+horrible in the story of the Peninsula--Juana the Mad staring at her
+husband's coffin, the bloody fall of the betrayed Torrijos and his
+band, the nobles of Portugal doing shuddering homage to the exhumed
+corpse of Inez de Castro, all that moves disgust, distress, dismay,
+seems flaunted here. The technique is French, but the subjects are
+Spanish. Many of the pictures have historical dignity and
+faithfulness, a few reproduce the modern national types, with a
+preference for bull-fighters and anarchists over fishermen and
+peasants, but one misses the spiritual beauty that went hand in hand
+with the spiritual terror of the older art. Do the Spanish painters of
+to-day derive only from Goya and Ribera?
+
+The old-time popular ceremonies are fast fading out of Europeanized
+Madrid. Even the Christmas mirth is waning, though still on _Noche
+Buena_ the _Plaza Mayor_ is close set with booths, and the Infanta
+Isabel, _muy Madrileña_ that she is, makes a point of driving through
+and heaping her carriage with fairings. On Twelfth Night, too, there
+are a few small boys to be seen scampering about the streets, looking
+for the arrival of the Magi. Every year drops something of the
+mediæval heritage, and it has fallen to my lot to chronicle the
+passing of one of Madrid's most ancient and comfortable rites. The
+principal saint days of June, July, and August are preceded by
+_verbenas_, or evening fairs, chief among these being the _Verbena de
+San Juan_, on Midsummer Night. Many a baby has a grand frolic this
+evening, rocked back and forth on his mamma's knees, laughing eyes to
+laughing eyes, while she dips her head to his and tickles his little
+neck with kisses in time to the ancient ditty:--
+
+     "Recotín, recotón!
+     The bells of St. John!
+     There's a festival on.
+     Recotín, recotín, recotón!"
+
+Far along the _Prado_ gleam the busy fires over which are merrily
+bubbling the oiliest and brownest of _buñuelos_. The rows of lighted
+stalls, which have sprung up like mushrooms on either side of the
+promenade, present to the revelling, roving, shifting throng an
+amazing variety of tawdry knickknacks, ingeniously devised to meet no
+human want. As we drove slowly up and down, enjoying the scene, while
+beggars ran beside the carriage and hawkers darted out upon us with
+shrill cries, the "American girl" of our little group strove earnestly
+to find "something to buy."
+
+The most useful and convenient article for a traveller that could be
+discovered was a pasteboard bull's head on a long stick, but her
+chaperon, mindful of trunk dimensions, discouraged this purchase so
+effectively that Little Boston gracefully made herself amends by
+presenting us all with images of St. John. These scandalously
+represented the Baptist as a ballet girl in short cotton-wool skirts
+and gilt ribbons, waving a banner with one hand and leading a
+two-legged lamb with the other.
+
+As midnight drew near, carriages and foot-folk all pressed toward the
+stately Cybele fountain. It seems that there was once, in the _Puerta
+del Sol_, a magic spring whose waters, sprinkled at Midsummer Midnight
+on the most unlikely head, insured a wedding within the year. Trams
+and cabs, riots and bloodshed, drove the precious charm away to the
+_Prado_, even to this same Cybele fountain, which for many generations
+has continued to work bridal miracles. So recently as 1898, as soon as
+the clock in the tower of the stately Bank of Spain struck midnight,
+with wedding cadences lingering in its peal, eager feet went splashing
+through the broad marble basin, and the enchanted water, thrown by
+handfuls and cupfuls far out over the crowd, sparkled even on bald
+pates and wigs.
+
+But alas for Madrid and her Midsummer Night's Dream! Some prosaic
+person got wet and tattled to the Alcalde. So when in natural
+agitation, on our only Verbena of St. John, we had persuaded the
+compassionate coachman to drive as close as close might be to the
+fountain, we encountered a bristling, unromantic railing, and outside
+of this a grim circle of police, frowning menace on that disconcerted
+host. Every moment more carriages, with veiled ladies and rheumatic
+gentlemen, dashed up, and the indignant crowd surged forward to the
+very buttons of authority. But midnight chimed in vain. One desperate
+graybeard vaulted over the railing, only to be hustled back with
+contumely. In general, however, that great press of people remained as
+meek as the lions of Cybele's chariot--a lack of spirit only to be
+accounted for by remembering that this midnight company was made up of
+the shamefaced and rejected, such an assemblage of blighted beings as,
+now that the last spell is snapped, earth will never see again. Even
+the decorous Cybele laughed in her marble sleeve.
+
+So passes the old Madrid; but there is a new Madrid, of which a word
+still waits to be said.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+A STUDY IN CONTRASTS
+
+     "Here you have them, the two Spains, unlike, antagonistic,
+     squared for conflict."
+                                   --_Vida Nueva._
+
+
+The world-old struggle between conservatism and advance is at its most
+dramatic point in Spain. The united forces of clericalism and
+militarism work for the continuance of ancient institutions, methods,
+ideas, and those leaders who do battle in the name of liberalism are
+too often nothing more than selfish politicians. But with all these
+odds against progress, it is making way. The mass of the people, kept
+so long in the darkness of ignorance and superstition, are looking
+toward the light. During my last week in Madrid I chanced upon two
+extreme expressions of these warring principles. The first was a royal
+and religious ceremony, the second a monster mass meeting,--the one
+intent on cherishing the past, the other clamoring at the gates of the
+future.
+
+I was looking over the _Imparcial_ as I took my coffee one morning,
+when my eye fell on an item to the effect that there would be _capilla
+publica en Palacio_ at ten o'clock. A traveller learns to jump at
+opportunity. Public service in the royal chapel promised to be of
+interest, and half-past nine found me waiting, with a miscellaneous
+company of gentles and tatterdemalions, natives and foreigners, on the
+palace side of the _Plaza de Armas_, the expectant throng streaming
+far down the paved and covered way. We were well marshalled by
+soldiers, who kept the crowd in form of a long troop, and banded this
+by military lines, with gleaming bayonets. These bands, but a few feet
+apart, were effectual in preventing crowding and disorder, and when at
+last the doors were thrown open, a double rank of soldiers closed in
+before the portal as often as the entering file showed any tendency to
+press and hurry, and thus passed us through by small divisions, so
+that there was no unseemly struggling on the succession of bare, plain
+stairways that led to the upper galleries.
+
+For "public service in the royal chapel," I was now to discover, does
+not mean that the public is admitted to the chapel itself. This is
+small, but very Spanish, with profusion of gilding, imposing altar,
+and frescoed saints, the characteristic splendor being tempered with a
+no less characteristic gloom, an effect enhanced by austere columns of
+gray marble. On days of public service, which are usually high feast
+days, three long galleries, forming three sides of a great quadrangle,
+are traversed by the court in passing from the royal rooms to the
+chapel door, and it is to these galleries only that the public is
+admitted. On such occasions the gallery walls are hung with richly
+colored tapestries from the magnificent collection of eight hundred
+pieces that enriches the royal _Tapiceria_.
+
+The instant I crossed the threshold these tapestries blazed upon the
+eye, so dazzling in their beauty that it was difficult to grasp the
+general situation. Civil Guards, in gala uniform, each armed with a
+pike taller than himself, were stationed at intervals of about six
+feet all along these tapestried walls, holding the carpeted way open
+for the passage of the royal and ecclesiastical party. The public
+hastened to fill in the spaces left between the guards, so that when
+the dignitaries paced the length of the three galleries, they walked
+between continuous human lines of mingled soldiery and spectators. We
+were of various ages, sizes, colors, and quite as picturesque, take it
+all in all, as the slowly stepping group on which our eyes were
+focussed.
+
+A division of the royal escort, marching with drawn swords, preceded
+the Queen Regent, a slight and elegant figure in white and heliotrope,
+her mantilla pinned with diamonds. She walked in royal solitude, with
+a bearing of majesty and grace, but her face had a hard and almost
+sour look, which of itself might account for her unpopularity. The
+King and the younger Infanta did not take part in the day's ceremony,
+but the Princess of Asturias followed her mother, a fresh-faced girl,
+charmingly dressed in white and blue, with pearls and turquoises. A
+respectful step or two in the rear of her niece, yet at her side
+rather than behind, came in rich green silk adorned with emeralds the
+stout, gray-puffed, easy-going Infanta Isabel, her broad, florid face
+beaming with affability. The guards had passed stern word down the
+line for all hats to be off, but there was no sign of greeting, so far
+as I saw, from the spectators to the royal party, except as now and
+then some happy Spaniard bowed him to the dust in acknowledgment of a
+nod, as familiar as a wink, from this popular Infanta.
+
+The occasion of this stately function was the elevation of the Papal
+Nuncio to the rank of cardinal. He passed in all priestly
+magnificence of vestments and jewels, his red hat borne before him on
+a cushion. He was attended by the chief clerics of Court and capital,
+but even these gorgeous personages were outshone by the military and
+naval officers, whose breasts were a mosaic of medals, and whose
+headgear such erections of vainglory as to hush the crested cockatoo
+with shame. The Gentlemen of the Palace, too, were such peacocks in
+their glittering coats of many colors, their plumes and sashes, gold
+lace and silver lace, that the plump Ladies in Waiting, for all their
+pride of velvet, satin, and brocade, looked like mere hens in the wake
+of strutting chanticleers.
+
+The American mind is ill prepared to do homage to the dress parades of
+European courts, and I laid by the memory to laugh over when I should
+have reached a place and hour where laughter would be inoffensive. As
+the Diplomatic Corps, in its varied costumes, came trooping on, twice
+a whisper ran along the gazing lines. "The Turk!" and the traditional
+enemy of Spain limped smilingly past, a bent, shrewd-faced old
+Mussulman, whose Oriental finery was topped by the red fez. "The
+Yankee!" and Spain's latest adversary strode by in the person of the
+newly arrived United States Minister, decorously arrayed in dress suit
+and a Catholic expression.
+
+The chapel doors closed on this haughty train, and we, the invited
+public, cheerily proceeded to pass a social hour or two in chat and
+promenade and in contemplation of the tapestries. Even the Civil
+Guards unbent, dancing their babies, lending their pikes to delighted
+urchins, and raising forbidden curtains to give their womenkind
+furtive peeps into the royal apartments. Most astonishing was the
+maltreatment of those priceless tapestries. Small boys, unrebuked,
+played at hide and seek under the heavy folds, old men traced the
+patterns with horny fingers, and the roughest fellows from the streets
+lounged stupidly against them, rubbing dirty-jacketed shoulders over
+the superb coloring. The most splendid series displayed was from a
+master-loom of the Netherlands, illustrating the conquest of Tunis by
+Charles V--marvellously vivid scenes, where one beholds the spread of
+mighty camps, the battle shock of great armies and navies, and, like
+shrill chords of pain in some wild harmony, the countless individual
+tragedies of war. The scimitar of the Turk flashes down on the Spanish
+neck, while the upturned eyes are still too fierce for terror; the
+turbaned chief leans from his gold-wrought saddle to scan the severed
+heads that two blood-stained sons of the prophet are emulously holding
+up to his survey, hoping to recognize in those ghastly faces enemies
+of rank; white-robed women on the strand, their little ones clinging
+to their knees, reach arms of helpless anguish toward the smitten
+galley of their lords, who are leaping into the waves for refuge from
+the Christian cannonade.
+
+I wondered how the Turkish Minister liked those tapestries, as his
+stooped-back Excellency passed in conference with a Chinese mandarin,
+who must have studied his costume from a teacup. For we had all been
+hustled into rows again to make that human lane through which the
+Royalties and the Reverends returned from their devotions. I was
+facing a quaint old tapestry of Christ enthroned in glory, with the
+beasts of the Apocalypse climbing over Him like pet kittens, and this
+so distracted my attention that I omitted to ask the amiable Infanta
+Isabel, who would, I am sure, have told anybody anything, what had
+taken place. But I read it all in the _Epocha_ that evening--how her
+Majesty with her own august hands had fitted the red hat to the
+Nuncio's tonsured head, and how the new-made cardinal had addressed
+her in a grateful oration, praising her virtues as manifested in "the
+double character of queen and mother, an example rich in those
+peculiar gifts by which your Royal Grace has won the veneration and
+love of the noble and chivalrous Spanish people, the especial
+affection of the Father of the Faithful, and the respect and sympathy
+of all the world." For her and for the youthful monarch of Spain he
+invoked the favor of Heaven, and uttered a fervent hope that the cup
+of bitterness which this most Catholic nation had bowed herself to
+drink might be blessed to her in a renewal of strength and a
+reconquest of her ancient preëminence among the peoples of the earth.
+
+The most significant expression of "new Spain" that I encountered in
+Madrid was a mass meeting--a rare and novel feature in Spanish public
+life. I blundered upon it as foolishly as one well could. The second
+day of July was the first anniversary of the founding of a daring
+Madrid weekly, the _Vida Nueva_, to which, attracted by its literary
+values, as well as its political courage, I had subscribed. The sheet
+is usually issued Sunday, but as I was on the point of going out one
+Saturday afternoon my _Vida Nueva_ arrived, accompanied by two
+non-committal tickets. They gave entrance to the _Frontón Central_,
+"only that and nothing more." I called one of the pretty señoritas of
+the household into council, and she sagely decided that these were
+tickets to _pelota_, the Basque ball game, played in one or another of
+the various Madrid halls almost every summer afternoon. It seemed a
+little too considerate in the _Vida Nueva_ to provide for the
+recreation of its subscribers, but I was growing accustomed to
+surprises of Spanish courtesy, and tucked the tickets away in a safe
+corner. The folded newspaper rustled and whispered, and finally
+fluttered to my feet, but I was eager to be off, and, after the blind
+fashion of mortals, put it by.
+
+It was my privilege to dine that day with two compatriots, and one of
+these, who knows and loves Spain better than many Spaniards do, began
+at once to tell me of that most unusual occurrence, a Madrid mass
+meeting, to take place this very evening. Of course we resolved to go,
+although my friend's husband was not in the city, and no other escort
+would countenance so harebrained an expedition. For the street to
+which this valiant lady led the way was choked with a flood of men
+surging toward an open door. The hall for the "meeting," a word which
+the Spanish language has fully adopted, was the _Frontón Central_, and
+admission was by ticket. Light dawned on my dim wits, and, while my
+two companions, with dignified and tranquil mien, stood themselves up
+against the outer wall, I besought a leisurely cabman, who insisted on
+waiting to pick up a little ragamuffin clamoring for a ride, to drive
+me in hot haste to my domicile. Here I searched out the tickets, put
+away only too carefully, and took a fleeting glance at the _Vida
+Nueva_, which urged all "men of heart" to celebrate the eve of its
+anniversary by their presence at this mass meeting.
+
+I had not realized that there were so many men of heart in Madrid. The
+street on my return was worse than before. The cabman objected
+strenuously to leaving us in these tempestuous surroundings, and,
+since there were only two tickets, we two elders of the trio agreed
+that the American girl was all too young for such an escapade, and
+forthwith despatched her, under his fatherly care, to the hotel. Then
+came the tug of war. We saw men fighting fiercely about the door, we
+heard the loud bandying of angry words, we were warned again and again
+that we could never get through the jam, we were told that, tickets or
+no tickets, ladies would not, could not, and should not be admitted;
+it was darkly hinted that, before the evening was over, there would be
+wild and bloody work within those walls. But we noticed a few other
+women in the throng, and decided, from moment to moment, to wait a
+little longer, and see what happened next. Meanwhile, we were almost
+unjostled in the midst of that excited, struggling crowd, often
+catching the words: "Stand back there! Don't press on the ladies!
+Leave room!" And when it came to the final dash we had well-nigh a
+clear passage. Our tickets gave access only to the floor of a big,
+oblong hall, closely packed with a standing mass of some ten thousand
+men; but a debonair personage in authority conducted us, with more
+chivalry than justice, to the reserved boxes in the gallery, where we
+occupied perfect seats,--for which other people probably held
+tickets,--in the front row, overlooking all the house.
+
+  [Illustration: MARIA SANTISIMA]
+
+So much for Spanish indulgence to audacious womenfolk. But as to the
+meeting itself, what was it all about? In Spain one word suffices for
+an answer. _Montjuich_ has become a Liberal rallying cry, although the
+movement is not bound in by party lines. It is the Dreyfus _affaire_
+in a Spanish edition. The _Castello de Montjuich_ is a strong
+fortress, with large magazines and quarters for ten thousand soldiers.
+It is built on a commanding height, the old Mountain of the Jews, just
+outside Barcelona, and has again and again suffered bombardment and
+storm. But in this latest assault on Montjuich the weapons are words
+that burn and pens keener than swords. It was on the seventh of June,
+1896, that the famous bomb was exploded in Barcelona. It was taken for
+an Anarchist outrage, and over two hundred men, including teachers,
+writers, and labor leaders, were arrested on suspicion. Nearly two
+months passed, and, despite the offer of tempting rewards, no trace of
+the culprits had been found. In the Fortress of Montjuich the guards
+deputed to watch the prisoners, acting more or less under superior
+authority, which itself may have been influenced by Jesuit suggestion,
+began on the fourth of August to inflict tortures upon the accused for
+the purpose of extracting evidence. The trials were by military
+procedure, power sat in the seat of justice, and innocent men, it is
+believed, were condemned on the strength of those forced
+confessions--mere assents, wrung from them by bodily agony, to
+whatever their guards might dictate. But many persisted in denial, and
+in course of time a number were released, maimed, in certain cases,
+for life. Others were shot, and a score still lay in prison. The
+fortress dungeons are deep and dark, but little by little the cries
+and groans of the "martyrs of Montjuich" penetrated the dull stone and
+sounded throughout Spain.
+
+On the fourteenth of May, last year, the _Vida Nueva_, this bold young
+periodical in the van of the Liberal cause, brought out an illustrated
+number devoted to "The Torments of Montjuich." Other periodicals
+sprang to its support and kept the Government busy with denunciations,
+while they vehemently called for a revision of the judicial process,
+with the hope of releasing the men still under sentence and clearing
+the names of those who had perished. Mass meetings to urge such
+revision, which could be accorded only by vote of the Cortes, were
+held in Barcelona, Saragossa, Valencia, Santander, and other principal
+cities, all demanding revision in the sacred names of patriotism,
+humanity, and justice.
+
+Our Madrid mass meeting was of chief consequence in impressing the
+Government with the weight of popular opinion. The swaying multitude
+was called to order at quarter of ten by Señor Canalejas, who
+introduced a notable array of speakers. There were representatives of
+labor, of republicanism, of the press, a Catalan charged with a
+greeting from Barcelona, the champion of Spanish Socialism, Pablo
+Iglesias by name, and great men of the nation, Azcárate, Moret, and
+Salmeron. Spanish eloquence at its best thrills the blood to wine, and
+the swift succession of orators, fourteen all told, played on the vast
+audience like master artists on a murmurous organ. Yet there was no
+disorder. A generous and grateful hearing was accorded the Count of
+Las Almenas, who frankly declared himself a conservative in politics
+and an apostolic Roman Catholic in religion, but in the name of both
+these creeds a lover of justice and humanity. Since for these he ever
+held himself ready to do battle in the Cortes, he gave the meeting his
+pledge that he would support Azcárate in the motion for revision.
+
+But the wrath and grief of the audience could hardly be controlled
+when one of the released prisoners took the platform to recount the
+horrors of Montjuich. He told of dungeons with earth floor and one
+grated window, of savage guards determined to gain the crosses and
+pensions promised to those who should extract evidence. He told how
+the helpless captives, weakened by confinement, were tortured with
+cords, whips, sleeplessness, hunger, and thirst. Bound as they were,
+water was held before their parched mouths, with the sinister words,
+"Confess what we bid you, and you shall drink." When the famished men
+begged for food, they were answered with the lash, or, more
+fiendishly, with shreds of salt codfish, which increased their thirst
+a hundred fold. One man in his desperation sprang to the lamp and
+quaffed the dirty oil. They licked the moisture from their dungeon
+walls. They thrust white tongues through the grating to catch the
+drops of rain. Soon the guards proceeded to more violent torments,
+wrenching, burning, and probing the quivering flesh with a devilish
+ingenuity of torture, making a derisive sport of their atrocious work.
+One of the victims went mad while undergoing torture by compression of
+the head. Others, on hearing the coming steps of the guards, strove to
+escape their cruel hands by suicide. One drank a bowl of disinfectant
+found in his cell, one beat his forehead against the wall, one strove
+to drive a rusted nail into his heart.
+
+It was a frightful tale to hear. I looked across the hall to where a
+Spanish flag was hung. Yellow wax is funeral wax, and Alarcón, who
+sees in yellow a symbol of death and of decay, laments that it is the
+color of half the Spanish banner. "_Ay de la bandera española!_" But
+surely there is hope for Spain, while she has sons who, in grasp of a
+military tyranny which has rendered such crimes possible, contend in
+open field for the overthrow of the "black Spain" of the Inquisition,
+and still bear heart of hope for a white, regenerated Spain, where
+religion shall include the love of man.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+THE PATRON SAINT OF MADRID
+
+     "Labré, cultivé, cogí
+     Con piedad, con fe, con celo,
+     Tierras, virtudes y cielo."
+
+
+Spain seems actually skied over with the wings of guardian angels. The
+traditional tutelar of the nation, Santiago, counts for less,
+especially in the south and centre of the Peninsula, than might be
+expected, and was long since officially superseded by the Virgin; but
+cities, hamlets, families, individuals, all have their protecting
+saints. Some are martyrs, some bishops, some apostles, while Cordova
+rests secure beneath the shining plumes of the angel Raphael. Towns
+and townlets hold festivals for their celestial patrons, honoring them
+with fairs, horse-races, processions, dances, and whatsoever else may
+be appropriate to the season and characteristic of the locality, as
+ball games, bull-fights, or even a miracle play. Only Seville,
+mirth-loving Seville, who makes holiday on the slightest provocation,
+can never invite her two beautiful guardians, Santa Justa and Santa
+Rufina, to a jubilee. These holy maidens used to keep a pottery booth
+in Triana, now the gypsy quarter of the city, where, refusing to
+worship the Roman Venus, they won the crown of martyrdom. But their
+industrious habits cling to them still, and, by night and by day,
+while the centuries pass, they uphold the Giralda. An anointed vision,
+like Murillo's, may see their graceful forms hovering in mid-air on
+either side of the famous tower, which their strong brown arms hold
+firm even in tempests. If the ladies should let go, the Giralda would
+fall, and so the Sevillians are driven to the ungallant course of
+ignoring these really useful patrons and gadding off to adjacent towns
+whose saints are at leisure to be entertained.
+
+  [Illustration: A SPANISH MONK]
+
+By the eternal contradiction that prevails in all things Spanish, it
+has come to pass that Madrid, the elegant capital and royal residence,
+is under the guardianship of a peasant saint. Here, in the eleventh
+century, Isidro was born, say the priests, of poor but Catholic
+parents. If not precisely a hewer of wood and a drawer of water, he
+was next door to that humble estate, being a digger of wells and
+cellars. He dug with such piety that God aided him by miracles,
+causing troublesome rocks to melt like wax at the touch of his spade,
+and springs of healing water to leap in the pits of his fashioning. He
+was a tiller of the ground, besides, a hireling farm servant, whose
+agricultural methods, though seemingly irregular, caused his master's
+granaries to overflow. As he went to the fields in the fresh spring
+mornings, the young Isidro would scatter handfuls of seed for the
+birds, saying, "Eat, God's little birds, for when our Lord looks forth
+in dawn, He looks upon us all." And as he dropped the wheat and barley
+in the furrows, ever he murmured, "This for God, and this for us; this
+for the birds, and this for the ants." "For the ants, too?" mockingly
+asked the rustics who planted beside him, but Isidro steadfastly
+replied, "For the ants, too, since they are God's ants, and His royal
+bounty is for all His household." No wonder that the Almighty had
+Isidro's fields in special charge, sending sun and rain in due season
+that the harvest might suffice for every claimant. Such divine care
+was the more necessary, because this dreamy plough-boy spent most of
+his time in the churches, or on his knees in the shadow of the fruit
+trees, until his profane companions called him Lazybones.
+
+Isidro was no effective patron of Madrid as yet, but ran away from the
+Moors, when they invaded the city, finding farm service in a
+neighboring village. Here he married a maiden whose lovely soul,
+according to Lope de Vega, shone through her guileless face like a
+painting through its glass. She was no less devout than her husband,
+and went every evening to trim the altar in a lonely shrine of the
+Virgin. There was a stream to be crossed on the way, and in times of
+freshet Our Lady would appear in person and lead her by the hand over
+the tops of the waves. Such dainty stepping as it must have been! And
+once, when Isidro accompanied his wife, they both crossed in a boat
+suddenly improvised from her mantilla, which was not a thread the
+worse for the experience.
+
+The miracle-working power that developed in San Isidro was first
+exercised, as became a farmer, on suffering beasts and bad weather.
+His early influence over water grew more and more pronounced, rain
+refreshing the thirsty fields at his bidding, and medicinal fountains
+gushing from rocks at the stroke of his hoe. And when, one sunshiny
+morning, his wife let their baby boy slip from her arms into the
+depths of the well and ran in distress to her husband, the saint, who
+for once was working on the farm, did not scold her, as the priestly
+authors seem to think would have been the natural course, but calmly
+said, "My sister, what is there to cry about?" And when, after a
+season of prayer, these exemplary parents proceeded to the well, its
+waters had risen to the brink, lifting the little John, as on a
+silver-tissue cushion, safe to their embrace. Isidro still retained
+his youthful peculiarities as a laborer, often praying all day long in
+the churches, while his yoke of oxen did the ploughing just as well
+without him. On one occasion, when he arrived too late for mass, the
+gates of heaven opened to his vision, as he knelt before the closed
+church door, and he was permitted to witness a celestial mass, where
+Christ was both priest and wafer, with choirs of angels chanting the
+holy service. Even his charities cost him little, for when the _olla_
+of vegetables and fish, that his wife made every Saturday for the
+poor, had all been eaten, a word from Isidro was enough to replenish
+the pot. If he emptied his sack of corn on the snow for a flock of
+hungry pigeons, the sack was full when he reached the mill; and when
+he threshed his master's wheat a second and a third time for the
+beggars, the very chaff turned into golden grain.
+
+His best quality, which almost makes his cult desirable in Spain,
+continued to be his love for animals, especially for birds. These sang
+their sweetest songs as he passed by, and often flew down from the
+poplar branches to brush their little wings against his blouse. And
+he, who had raised his master's daughter from the dead, did not
+disdain to work miracles of healing and of life on maltreated horses.
+Madrid would do well to give her guardian saint a season ticket to
+the bull-ring. Even the despised and cudgelled ass had a share in his
+protection. A sacrilegious wolf that thought to make a meal of
+Isidro's donkey, left to graze outside a church where the saint had
+gone to pray, was struck dead--perhaps by the donkey's heels. This
+kindly rustic, who had separated from his wife for greater sanctity,
+died on St. Andrew's Day and was buried in the cemetery of St.
+Andrew's Church in Madrid. Such sepulture was not to his liking, and
+twice his ghost appeared to ask that the body might be removed to the
+church, as was presently done, all the bells of St. Andrew's ringing
+of their own accord to give it welcome. The tomb immediately began to
+work miracles, and Isidro became such a favorite with the people that
+when, in 1212, a shepherd guided Alfonso VIII, lost with his vanguard
+in the wild passes of the Sierra Morena, to the great battle of Las
+Navas de Tolosa, where the armies of the Holy Cross broke forever the
+dominion of the Moors in Central Spain, nothing would do but the story
+that this shepherd was Isidro himself. Above the tomb of the saint a
+chapel was erected, perhaps by Alfonso, perhaps by _Isabel la
+Católica_. There seems to be a conflict of authorities here, but all
+testimonies agree that the angels used to come down and sing in the
+chapel Saturday afternoons.
+
+Madrid formally accepted Isidro as patron in the summer of 1232, when
+the labors of the husbandmen, on the point of perishing from drought,
+were saved by the body of the Holy Peasant, which, borne in priestly
+procession, called down floods of rain; but it was not until the times
+of Philip III, some four centuries later, that the actual canonization
+of Isidro was granted by Rome. On May 15, 1620, the _Plaza Mayor_,
+that handsome square which has been the theatre of so many
+tournaments, executions, and _autos de fe_, the scene, two years
+later, of the beatification of Loyola, was inaugurated by a splendid
+festival in honor of San Isidro. From that day to this his worship has
+not waned. The miracle-working bones, which were carried to the bitter
+death-bed of Philip III, and comforted the passing of the great and
+generous spirit of Charles III, are still held to be more potent than
+physicians. Churches, oratories, and chapels have been built to him
+all over the Peninsula, the Franciscan Friars founded a convent of San
+Isidro in Rome, and his name is a part of our new geography lesson in
+the Antilles and the Philippines. Only four years ago his urn was
+borne in penitential procession through Madrid, with double
+supplications for rain on the parched country, and for a swift and
+happy ending of the Cuban war. All priestly, military, civic, and
+governmental pomp went to make up that stately escort, the ladies of
+Madrid showering the train as it passed beneath their balconies with
+flowers, poems, and _confetti_. The saint did what he could. The
+procession had been so skilfully timed that the rains began that very
+night, but the Cuban war was a matter out of his province. His
+dealings had always been with water, not with blood.
+
+There is significance in this devotion of proud Castile to San Isidro.
+Spain is essentially as democratic as America. Her proverbs tell the
+story: "Many a man gets to heaven in tow breeches;" "Do what your
+master bids you, and sit down with him at table;" "Nobody is born
+learned, and even bishops are made of men;" "Since I am a man I may
+come to be Pope;" "The corpse of the Pope takes no more ground than
+that of the sacristan;" "Every man is the son of his own works."
+
+     "Said the leaf to the flower: 'O fie!
+         You put on airs indeed!
+     But we sprang, both you and I,
+         From the selfsame little brown seed.'"
+
+Pedler, porter, beggar treat you as social equals and expect a full
+return of courtesy. It is told in Madrid how a great diplomatic
+personage not long ago was eating his picnic luncheon in a hired
+carriage. The driver, lunching also, leaned back from his seat,
+clinked glasses, and drank the gentleman's health. The dignitary
+glared with astonishment and wrath. "Man! I am the Imperial Ambassador
+of Nation So-and-So." "What of it?" returned the driver, taking
+another bite of his peppery Spanish sausage; "I am the Head Hostler of
+Stables Such-and-Such."
+
+Again and again, in recent times as in ancient, have the rank and file
+of the Spanish nation asserted their dignity of manhood. An edict of
+Charles III, forbidding the Madrileños to muffle themselves in their
+beloved long cloaks and hide their faces under their big slouch hats,
+raised a furious riot in the capital. Should a king dictate the
+fashion of a man's garments? And when the stupid weakness of Charles
+IV and the baseness of his son Fernando had delivered Spain over to
+Napoleon, when French armies held her fortresses, and Murat, with
+twenty-five thousand troops, ruled Madrid by logic of steel and iron,
+it was the Spanish people who, from Asturias to Andalusia, sprang to
+the defence of a country abandoned by princes, councils, and
+grandees. The Spanish people, not the Spanish nobles, preserved the
+independence of the nation and actually broke the career of the
+Corsican conqueror. The Italian king, Amadeo, so much better than his
+fortunes, was welcomed at Valencia in 1871 with simple verses, spoken
+by a child, that breathe even from their opening stanza this native
+spirit of democracy:--
+
+     "The High Lord of the Heavens
+       Created men one day,
+     All mortal and all equal,
+       All shapen out of clay;
+     For God recked not of nations,
+       Of white and black and brown,
+     But on His human children
+       Impartially looked down."
+
+It is not then so strange as it appears at first hearing that a Piers
+Plowman should be patron of Madrid.
+
+From Alfonso VIII to Alfonso XIII, a matter of some seven centuries,
+Isidro has been in high repute with royalty. The "Catholic Kings" made
+him rich gifts; Philip II, bigot of bigots, cherished an especial
+veneration for the ghostly protector who had brought his delicate
+childhood safely through smallpox and epileptic seizures; the
+passion-wasted Philip IV did him public homage; Charles the Bewitched
+made a solemn progress to his shrine to thank him for recovery from
+illness; even the bright young Bourbon, Philip V, had scarcely arrived
+in Madrid before he hastened to worship the efficacious body of San
+Isidro. The urn has been opened at intervals to give their successive
+Majesties of Spain the grewsome joy of gazing on the bones, and it
+has been the peculiar privilege of Spanish queens, on such occasions,
+to renew the costly cerements. The devotion of the present regent to
+these relics keeps pace with that of her predecessors.
+
+Where royalty leads, aristocracy is swift to follow, and Isidro has a
+gorgeous wardrobe of embroidered standards, palls, canopies, burial
+cloths, and everything that a skeleton could require, but "for a' that
+and a' that" the laboring people of Castile never forget that the
+Canonized Farmer especially belongs to them. His fortnight-long
+_fiesta_ is the May outing of the rustic population all about Madrid.
+
+We will start on this pilgrimage from the _Puerta del Sol_, because
+everything in Madrid starts from the _Puerta del Sol_. From this great
+open parallelogram in the centre of the city, surrounded by lofty
+hotels and Government buildings, bordered with shops and cafés,
+brightened with fountains, thronged with trams, carriages, people,
+always humming with voices, always surging with movement, run ten of
+the principal streets of the capital. The _Alcalá_, most fashionable
+of promenades, and _San Jerónimo_, beloved of wealthy shoppers,
+conduct to the noble reaches of parks and _paseos_ in the east; the
+handsome _Arenal_ and historic _Calle Mayor_ lead west to the royal
+palace, with its extensive gardens known as the _Campo del Moro_;
+_Montera_, with two less elegant avenues, points to the north, where
+one may find the university, the Protestant churches, and the tragic
+site of the _Quemadero_; and three corresponding streets open the way
+to the south, with its factories, hospitals, old churches, and
+world-famed _Rastro_, or rag fair.
+
+  [Illustration: A SEVILLE STREET]
+
+But during the early days of the _Romeria_, which begins on May 15,
+all the throbbing tide of life pours toward the southwest, for the
+goal of the pilgrimage, the Hermitage of San Isidro, built over one of
+his miraculous wells by the empress of Charles I, in gratitude for a
+cure experienced by her august husband after drinking of the waters,
+stands on the farther bank of the Manzanares. The trams, literally
+heaped with clinging humanity, pass out by the _Calle Mayor_ and cross
+the _Plaza Mayor_. The innumerable 'buses and cabs make a shorter cut,
+but all varieties of vehicle are soon wedged together in the broad
+thoroughfare of Toledo. Here we pass the big granite church of San
+Isidro el Real, once in possession of the Jesuits, but on their
+expulsion from Spain, in 1767, consecrated to the Santo Labrador. His
+body was borne thither, with all solemn ceremonial, from the chapel in
+St. Andrew's; and his poor wife, who had also been sainted, by a
+courteous Spanish afterthought, under the attractive title of _Maria
+de la Cabeza_, Mary of the Head, was allowed to lay her celebrated
+skull beneath the same roof,--a greater liberty than he had permitted
+her during the latter half of their earthly lives. The Madrid
+Cathedral, hard by the royal palace, is still in slow process of
+building, the work being hampered and delayed for lack of funds,
+although her Majesty sets a devout example by contributing $300 a
+month. Meanwhile, San Isidro el Real serves as the cathedral church of
+the diocese.
+
+This _Calle de Toledo_, where Isidro dug several of his medicinal
+wells, is always gay with arcades and booths and drapers' shops; but
+now, during the _Romeria_, it is a veritable curbstone market, where
+oranges, sashes, brooms, mantles, picture frames, saucepans, fiddles,
+mantillas, china, jackets, umbrellas, fans, dolls, bird-cages,
+paintings of saints, and photographs of ballet dancers are all cried
+and exhibited, hawked and held under nose, in one continuous tumult.
+
+As we approach the bare mass of masonry known as the Gate of Toledo,
+we cast, for all our festival mood, a clouded glance in the direction
+of the barbarous slaughter-houses of Madrid. Here the stronger beasts
+are blinded by the thrust of darts, and also hamstrung, to render them
+helpless under the deliberate butchery of their tormentors, who often
+amuse themselves by a little bull-fight practice with the agonized
+creatures before striking the final blow--a place of such atrocious
+cruelties that even the seasoned nerves of an Austrian surgeon
+recently visiting it gave way, and he fainted as he looked. There is
+work for San Isidro here.
+
+The jam of equipages on the Bridge of Toledo gives us abundant time to
+observe the statue of the Holy Peasant, in a stone niche, lifting his
+baby from the well, and the companion statue of Mary of the Skull. And
+there is the Manzanares to look at, that sandy channel along which
+dribble a few threads of water--threads that the washerwomen of Madrid
+seek after like veins of silver. Small boys are wading from one bank
+to the other, hardly troubling themselves to roll up their trousers.
+It is said that Philip IV, surveying his pompous bridge across the
+Manzanares, was wickedly advised by one of his courtiers to sell the
+bridge or else buy a river. It is a curious bit of irony to hold the
+festival of the Water Saint beside a river bed almost as dry as his
+bones.
+
+But the crowd has now become so mad and merry that it distracts
+attention alike from architecture and physical geography. Will all the
+dexterity of foot-police and mounted guards ever succeed in
+disentangling this snarl of equipages? Who cares? Everybody is
+laughing. Everybody, too, is helping, so far as lungs can help. A
+daring Aragonese, with a blue and white checked handkerchief knotted
+about his head and a scarlet blanket over his shoulders, tries to dash
+across the bridge and rejoin his screaming children. He stumbles
+before a jovial omnibus, whose four horses, adorned with beribboned
+straw hats, gaze coyly out from under the torn brims like so many
+metamorphosed Maud Mullers. A distant guard roars a warning. The crowd
+bellows in sympathy. A liveried coachman rears his spirited pair of
+bays. A cock-hatted gypsy, with half his tribe packed into his cart,
+tries to follow suit, and tugs savagely at the stubborn mouths of
+mules whose heads are liberally festooned with red and green tassels.
+In front of these safely passes the Aragonese, only to bring up
+against the great wheel of a picnic wagon, whose occupants, mostly
+señoritas in the sunrise Philippine shawls, thrust out their pretty
+heads, all crowned with flowers instead of hats, and rain down saucy
+salutations. The crowd chimes in with every variety of voluble
+impudence. He catches at the long gold fringe of the nearest shawl,
+saves himself from falling at the price of a shriek of wrath from the
+señorita, plunges desperately on, is struck by a cab horse, the poor
+beast being half blinded by the tickling plumes that droop over eyes
+and nose, and amid volleys of ridicule and encouragement reels to the
+shelter of the sidewalk. But a very precarious shelter it is, so
+narrow that the lads are positively obliged to fling their arms about
+the lasses to hold the fluttering skirts back from peril of wheels and
+hoofs. Everywhere what audacity, what fun, what color, and what noise!
+Troops on troops of foot travellers, usually in family groups, and
+often stained with the dust of an all-day tramp! The wives generally
+carry the hampers, and the husbands sometimes shoulder the babies.
+Squads of young fellows frolic along, each with his supply of
+provisions tied up in a gaudy handkerchief. The closer the nudging the
+better they like it; a slap from a girlish hand is almost as good as a
+kiss. Isidro knew all about it in his day. But this clownish jollity
+grows rougher and rougher, and the crack and sting from a coachman's
+whip tempt a reply with the pilgrim's staff. The guards, hoarse and
+purple, wipe their dripping brows. It is early afternoon yet, too, and
+the larking and license are as nothing to what may be expected before
+midnight.
+
+It is a little better when, at last, the bridge is left behind.
+Turning to the northwest, the dusty road runs on beside the river and
+beneath the bluffs lined with rowdyish folk, who shout down greetings
+to their acquaintances and compliments to the ladies, toward the
+_ermita_. A certain Juan de Vargas, riding over this same route one
+day, lifted his eyes to the uplands to see how his farm-hand, Isidro,
+was getting on with the ploughing. Blessed Isidro! Before and after
+went two stalwart young angels, still in shining white, each driving a
+celestial yoke of oxen.
+
+Times have changed. The sight that greets our eyes is emphatically
+human--a great country fair, a pandemonium of rude, good-natured
+revelry. The beggars who have been chasing the carriage, the cripples
+outstripping the rest, thrust withered arms, ulcerous legs, and all
+manner of profitable deformities into our very faces as we alight,
+even clutching at the coins with which we pay the coachman. We make
+our way, as best we can in the rough press, between two rows of
+booths toward the church. There is the usual Spanish variety of penny
+toys on sale--balls, baskets, whips, kites, jumping-jacks, balloons,
+and every other conceivable trifle admitting of the colors red and
+yellow. But the great traffic is in those articles especially
+consecrate to San Isidro--frosted cakes, probably made after the
+recipe of _Maria de la Cabeza_, clay vessels of every shape and size
+for carrying away the healing waters, and, first and foremost,
+_pitos_, or whistles. The priests would have us believe that San
+Isidro was forever droning psalms, but ploughmen know a ploughman's
+music, and the sacred whistles lead the sales in the _Romeria_. It is
+impiety not to purchase at least one of these, and the more devout you
+are, the more _pitos_ will you buy. The Infanta Isabel, aunt of his
+Little Majesty, fills her emblazoned coach every year with these
+shrill pipes in all their variety of queer disguises--fans, birds,
+puffing grotesques, and, above all, paper flowers. He is no lover
+worth the having who does not bring his sweetheart a San Isidro rose
+with a _pito_ for a stem. The ear-torture of an immense fair-ground
+delighting in an infinity of whistles may be left to the sympathetic
+imagination. We cling to the memory of Burns, and bear for his bonny
+sake what we could hardly endure for any such sham laborer as Isidro.
+
+The hearing is not the only sense to do penance in this pilgrimage.
+The Water Saint has never thought to work a miracle of cleanliness
+upon his peasant votaries, and the smell that bursts out upon us from
+the opening doors of the church might put us to flight, were flight
+still possible. But, caught in the human current, we are swept on into
+the gilded, candle-lighted, foul-aired oratory, with its effigies of
+Santo Labrador and Santa Labradora. All day long the imperious ringing
+of the bell at the shortest of intervals has been calling one company
+of the faithful after another up the bare brown hill to that
+unventilated temple. When there is no squeezing room left for even a
+dwarf from the pygmy show, the doors are closed, the bell is silenced,
+and the rustics are marshalled in rapid procession before the altar,
+where they pay a penny each, receive a cheap print of San Isidro, and
+kiss the mysterious, glass-cased relic which a businesslike young
+ecclesiastic touches hastily to their lips. The frank sound of the
+kissing within is accompanied by the tooting of _pitos_ without. We
+stand at one side, looking at the priests and wondering how their
+consciences are put together, but half ashamed to watch with heretic
+eyes the tears of joy, the fervors of prayer, the ecstasies of faith,
+that are to be seen in many of these simple, passionate faces filing
+by. Here comes a little girl treading as if on air and clasping her
+picture of the saint to her lips, brows, and heart with such abandon
+of delighted adoration as one must go to Spain to see.
+
+Released from the Hermitage, we fill our lungs with sweeter breath,
+give skirts a vigorous shake in the vain hope that we may not carry
+away too many deserters from the insect retinue of our recent
+associates, and turn down toward the river. Our short cut leads us
+among heaps and heaps of bales packed with the graceful clay jars. How
+many an anxious mother will trudge her weary miles across this dry
+Castilian steppe, bearing with all her other burdens a _botija_ of the
+healing water to some little sufferer at home! Wonderful water,
+warranted to make whole the lame, the blind, the deaf, the dumb, and
+put to rout all ills that flesh is heir to, especially fevers, tumors,
+erysipelas, paralysis, and consumption! It is as potent to-day as when
+it first gushed from the earth at the bidding of the young Isidro, for
+did it not work a notable cure, as late as 1884, on the Infanta Doña
+Paz de Bourbon, sister of Alphonso XII?
+
+We linger a few minutes at the edge of the bluff, looking down upon
+the animated scene below, from which rises the hum as of an
+exaggerated beehive. The long green stretch of valley meadow is one
+wave of restless color. Thickly dotted with booths for refreshment,
+for sale of the San Isidro wares, for penny shows, farces, wax
+figures, and all manner of cheap entertainments, it still has space
+for dancers, wrestlers, _pelota_ players, for swings, stilts, and
+merry-go-rounds, and, above all, for the multitude of promenaders,
+sleepers, and feasters. The bright May sunshine gleams and dazzles on
+the soldiers' helmets, flashes out all the hues and tints of the
+varied costumes, and even lends a grace to the brown patches on the
+browner tents. The tossing of limbs in the wild, free dances, the
+flutter of the red and yellow flags, the picturesque grouping on the
+grass of families, complete to dog and donkey, around the platter of
+homely fare and the skin bottle of wine--all this makes a panorama on
+which one would gladly gaze for hours.
+
+Going down into the heart of the festivity, the interest still grows.
+We enter one of the cleanest _cantinas_ and invest a _peseta_ in a
+bottle of sarsaparilla, not for our own drinking, having seen the
+water in which the glasses are washed, but as a protection against the
+horde of beggars and the gypsy fortune tellers. It works like a charm.
+As we respond to the whining appeals with the civilities of social
+greeting and an offered glass of our innocent beverage, the ragged
+petitioners are straightway transformed into ladies and gentlemen.
+They draw themselves erect, quaff the cup to our long life and
+happiness, discuss in self-respecting tones the weather and the fête,
+and then, without another hint of solicitation, bid us courteous
+farewells. We mean to take out a patent on the sarsaparilla treatment
+of Spanish mendicancy.
+
+The tent itself is, like the rest, shabby and tumbledown, furnished
+with rough tables and benches, where cadets are playing dominos as
+they drink, and two country sweethearts are delectably eating what
+appears to be a sardine omelette off the same cracked plate. A clumsy
+lantern hangs overhead, racks of bottles are fastened up along the
+canvas walls, and all about the trampled earth floor stand water jars,
+great bowls of greens, and baskets of the crusty Spanish bread. A pale
+young Madrileño drops in for a glass of wine, but before indulging has
+the shy little rustic who serves him take a sip, languidly begging her,
+"Do me the favor to sweeten my drink." The yellow cigarette-stains
+show on his white fingers as he pats her plump bare arm. The child,
+for she is scarcely more, and as brown as an acorn, responds to these
+amenities by giving the smiling exquisite alternate bites of her hunk
+of goat's-milk cheese, while her mother keeps a sharp eye on them
+both.
+
+Comedy and tragedy are busy all about us. A newly arrived family plods
+wearily by in ludicrous procession, headed by a tall father carrying a
+baby and closed by a short child carrying a cat. A showy man of middle
+age, playing the gallant to an overdressed brunette, is suddenly
+confronted by his furious wife in boy's attire, so unluckily well
+disguised that, before recognizing her, he has replied to her rush of
+invective with a blow which bids fair to make one of her eyes, at
+least, blacker than those of her rival. Traditional ballads are
+trolled, popular songs are echoed from group to group, and, despite
+bad odors, fleas, and whistles, we are reluctant to leave. But the
+afternoon grows late, the _Arganda_ and _Valdepeñas_ are beginning to
+burn in the southern blood, an occasional flourish of cudgels or of
+fists sends the police scurrying across the field, and, being nothing
+if not discreet, we pay our parting respects to San Isidro.
+
+Coming home by way of the _Prado_ and passing the proud shaft of
+yellow-brown granite that towers far above its enclosing cypress
+trees, as glory above death, we are reminded that this gala month has
+brought another _fiesta_ to Madrid. Every second of May the capital
+commemorates with solemn masses, with stately civic processions, and a
+magnificent military review, the patriots who fell fighting in the
+streets on that terrible Monday of 1808, _El Dos de Mayo_, which
+brought to pass the war of independence. One may read of that fierce
+carnage in the vivid pages of Galdós or behold it in the lurid
+paintings of Goya. To see once is to see forever that line of French
+soldiery, with steady musket at shoulder, but with eyes bent on the
+ground, while they shoot down squad after squad of their defenceless
+victims. In pools of blood lie the contorted bodies, with heads and
+breasts horribly torn by crimson wounds, while of those who wait their
+turn to fall beside them some cover the eyes, one stupidly gnaws his
+hands, one kneels and wildly peers from under his shaggy hair into
+the very muzzle of the gun before him, one flings back his head with a
+savage grin, half of fright and half of courage, one desperately
+strips bare his breast and in agony of horror glares upon the guns,
+but the most are crouching, shuddering, sinking--and all only an item
+in the awful cost that the Spanish people have paid for Spanish
+liberties. The celebration of 1899 was no less brilliant than usual,
+although many of the Madrid papers spoke bitterly of the shadow that
+the disastrous first of May must henceforth cast on the glorious
+Second. It is indeed gall and wormwood to all Spain that the Manila
+defeat so nearly coincides with the proudest day in Spanish annals.
+
+The saint of _El Dos de Mayo_ is Saint Revolution, as democratic in
+one way as Saint Agriculture in another. When these two patrons of
+Madrid understand how to work in fellowship, when there comes a
+Government in Spain that cares chiefly to promote the welfare of the
+laboring people, the world may discover anew the vitality and noble
+quality of this long-suffering nation.
+
+We saw the _Romeria_ once more, driving through late in the evening,
+when the closed booths glimmered white on the silent meadow.
+
+"Yes, it is all a pack of lies," said a thoughtful Catholic, "but what
+is one to do? A man cannot believe in religion--and yet how to live
+without it? The more I stay away from mass the more I want and need
+it. Think of the comfort these peasants take with their San Isidro!"
+
+The moonlight shone serene and beautiful on those patched, shabby
+tents, transforming them to silver.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE FUNERAL OF CASTELAR
+
+     "The death of the Republic will be, for you, for us, and for
+     all, the death of liberty. The death of liberty will be the
+     death of the Republic, and as liberty is the only thing in the
+     world that rises from the dead, with liberty shall rise again,
+     in good time, the Republic."--EMILIO CASTELAR: _Inaugural
+     Address_, 1873.
+
+
+The present state of Spanish politics was amusingly expounded to me by
+a spirited young philosopher of Cadiz.
+
+"In the north," he said, "the prevailing sentiment is for Don Carlos.
+Nocedal is doing all he can to fan it in Andalusia, but it finds its
+natural home in the northern provinces. To be sure, there is San
+Sebastian, where the Court summers, which consequently upholds the
+Queen, and there are Republican groups; but the north of Spain,
+broadly speaking, is Carlist. The centre favors the reigning family.
+Possession is a strong argument, and the royal forces hold Madrid.
+Barcelona is Republican. Those Catalans are always thirsty for a
+fight. But the middle tract of Spain, as a whole, accepts the existing
+monarchy. Castilians are too gallant to strike against a woman and a
+child. The south is Republican. For the best part of the century Cadiz
+and Malaga have stood for revolution. Where was the army of Isabel II
+defeated? And why has the Queen never seen the Alhambra?
+
+"But, let me tell you, these Carlists, these Royalists, these
+Republicans are all fools. If there is anything hopeless in this
+world, it's Spanish politics. All the uproar of the Revolution ended
+in murdering our best man and driving out our best king. For myself, I
+mean to work hard and marry soon, and have a little Spain in my own
+house that shall express my own convictions. My children shall be good
+Catholics, but not superstitious bigots. They shall be well educated,
+if I have to send them to France or England for it. They shall be
+disciplined, but under the law of liberty. And with that I propose to
+be content. All my politics are to be kept under my own roof, where I
+can work my ideas into permanent form. I am sick of the way in which
+Spain boils with ideas that only destroy one another."
+
+This Sir Oracle was two-and-twenty, with the prettiest of girlish
+photographs in his vest pocket, and the smallest of savings in the
+bank, but I remembered his words in the days of mourning for Emilio
+Castelar.
+
+The illustrious tribune, heavy-hearted with the troubles of his
+country, had gone to the home of friends, at a village in sunny
+Murcia, for the rest and comfort that nature always gave him. His
+almost boyish optimism, "_niño grande y grande niño_" that he was, had
+kept him assured of peace even after the destruction of the _Maine_,
+and assured of victory even after the battle of Manila. Hence the
+pressure of fact told on him all the more cruelly. "I die a victim of
+Spain's agony," he wrote in a personal letter shortly before the end,
+and his last article for publication, finished on the day of his
+death, a gloomy discussion of the outlook for the Peace Conference,
+contains bitter references to the national disasters and to the
+ravages of the "criminal troop of pirates in the Philippines."
+
+He died on Thursday, the twenty-fifth of May, within hearing of the
+Mediterranean waves he loved so well, with tender faces bent over him,
+and the crucifix at his lips. The news of his death aroused this
+grief-weary nation to a fresh outburst of sorrow. Some lamented him as
+one of the chief orators of modern Europe, recalling his eloquence in
+the tempestuous times of the Revolution, when he "intoned mighty hymns
+in praise of liberty, democracy, and the sacred Fatherland!" Some
+mourned the patriot, pointing proudly to the honorable poverty in
+which this holder of many offices, at one time almost absolute
+dictator, had lived and died. Some wept for the cordial, generous,
+noble-hearted man, the joy of his friends and idol of his household.
+His political sympathizers bewailed the loss of the Spanish apostle of
+democracy, the lifelong champion of liberty. And many not of his
+following nor of his faith felt that a towering national figure had
+disappeared and another glory of Spain vanished away.
+
+The first wreath received was from a Republican club that sent the
+pansies of memory. Among the five hundred telegrams and cablegrams
+that arrived within a few hours at the country-seat where he had died
+was one from over seas, which read: "To Castelar: In thy death it
+seems as if we had lost the last treasure left to us, the voice of the
+Spanish race. In thy death Spain has become mute. Yet let me believe
+that thou respondest, 'She will speak again.'"
+
+The coming of the body to the capital was a triumphal progress. A
+large escort of friends, who had made speed to Murcia from all parts
+of the Peninsula, accompanied it, and there were crowds at the
+stations, even in the mid-hours of the night, with tears, handfuls of
+roses, wreaths, and poems of farewell. There was often something very
+touching about these offerings. At one of the smaller towns a young
+girl hastily gathered flowers from the garden attached to the station,
+broke off a spray from a blossoming tree, tied these with the bright
+ribbon from her hair, and, clambering up, hung this simple nosegay
+among the costly tributes that already nearly covered the outer sides
+of the funeral car. In another crowded station the village priest came
+hurrying forward, bared his head with deepest reverence before the
+garlanded coach, as if before the altar, and chanted the prayers for
+the dead. Again, a group of workmen, allowed to enter the car, fell on
+their knees before the bier and prayed.
+
+The train was met on its arrival in Madrid by an immense concourse of
+people. Señor Silvela and other distinguished representatives of the
+Government were there, church dignitaries, presidents of political
+societies and literary academies, but, above all, the people. It was
+the great, surging multitude that gave the Republican leader his
+grandest welcome.
+
+This poor shell of Castelar, the man said to bear "the soul of a Don
+Quixote in the body of a Sancho Panza," lay in state through Sunday
+and a part of Monday in the _Palacio del Congreso_. The vestibule had
+been converted into a _capilla ardiente_. Masses were chanted
+ceaselessly at the two candle-laden altars, the perfume from the ever
+increasing heaps of flowers was so oppressive that the guards had to
+be relieved at short intervals, and the procession of people that
+filed rapidly past the bier, often weeping as they went, reached out
+from the Morocco lions of the doorway to the _Prado_ and the Fountain
+of Neptune. Many of the humblest clad, waiting half the day in line,
+held pinks or lilies, fast withering in the sun, to drop at the feet
+of the people's friend. Early on Monday afternoon the doors were
+closed, and by half-past three the funeral cortège began to form in
+the _Prado_ for its four-hour march by way of the _Calle de Alcalá_,
+_Puerta del Sol_, _Calle Mayor_, and _Cuesta de la Vega_, to the
+cemetery of San Isidro.
+
+By the never failing Spanish courtesy, I was invited to see the
+procession from the balcony of a private house in the _Alcalá_. I
+found my hostess, a vivacious little old lady, whose daughter had
+crowned her with glory and honor by marrying into the nobility, much
+perturbed over the failure of the Queen Regent to show sympathy with
+the popular grief.
+
+"There were one hundred and forty-nine wreaths sent in. The very
+number shows that the royal wreath was lacking. I am a Conservative,
+of course. Canovas was my friend, and has dined here often and often.
+You see his portrait there beside that of my daughter, _la Marquesa_.
+But Canovas loved Castelar, and would not, like Silvela, have grudged
+him the military honors of a national funeral. As if the dead were
+Republicans! The dead are Spaniards, and Castelar is a great Spaniard,
+as this tremendous throng of people proves. There were not nearly so
+many for Canovas, though the aristocracy made an elegant display;
+there were not so many for Alfonso XII, though all that Court and
+State and army could do was done, and the Queen rode in the splendid
+ebony coach in which Juana the Mad used to carry about the body of
+that handsome husband of hers.
+
+"But the people know their losses. Never in my life have I seen the
+_Alcalá_ so full as this. Silvela has had to give way, and the troops
+will come--at least a few of them. But not a word, not a flower, from
+the Queen! She sent a magnificent wreath for Canovas, and a beautiful
+letter to his widow. But for Castelar, her people's hero, nothing. Ah,
+she is not _simpática_. She does not know her opportunities. She does
+not understand the art of winning love. Only a year ago she sent a
+wreath to the funeral of Frascuelo, the _torero_. And everybody knows
+how she hates the bull-fight. But if she could drop her prejudices
+then to be at one with the feeling of her capital, why not now? They
+say she has a neuralgic headache to-day. _Ay, Dios mio!_ I should
+think she might."
+
+Listening to this frank chatter and watching that mighty multitude, I
+was reminded of one of the Andalusian _coplas_:--
+
+     "The Republic is dead and gone;
+       Bury her out of the rain.
+     But see! There is never a _Panteón_
+       Can hold the funeral train."
+
+And this, in turn, suggested another of those popular refrains:--
+
+     "The moon is a Republican,
+       And the sun with open eye;
+     The earth she is Republican,
+       And Republican am I."
+
+But who can understand this ever baffling Spain? After all, what was
+the significance of that assembled host? How far was it drawn by
+devotion to the man, and how far by devotion to the idea for which he
+stood? How far by idle curiosity, by the Spanish passion for pomps and
+shows, and, above all, for a crowd, by that strange Spanish delight
+in _mucha gente_? So far as eye could tell, this might have been the
+merriest of fêtes. The wide street was a sea of restless color.
+Uniforms, liveries, parasols, hats, frocks, pinafores, kerchiefs,
+blouses, sashes, fans, flecked the sunshine with a thousand hues. Here
+loitered a messenger boy in vivid scarlet; there passed a waiter with
+a silver tray gleaming on his head; here a market woman bent beneath
+her burden of russet sacks bursting with greens; there stood a priest
+in shovel hat and cassock, smelling a great red rose; here a gallant
+in violet cape escorted a lady flaming in saffron; there a beaming old
+peasant, with an azure scarf tied over his white head, threw an orange
+to attract the attention of a plodding porter, whose forehead was
+protected from the cords binding the boxes to his back by several
+folds of purplish carpeting.
+
+Streets and sidewalks, balconies and windows, all were full, and
+everywhere such eagerness, such animation, and such stir! The children
+sitting on the curbstone rocked their little bodies back and forth in
+excitement. Young mothers danced their crying infants, and young
+fathers shifted the babies of a size or two larger from one shoulder
+to the other. A boy in a red cap climbed a small locust tree, from
+whose foliage his head peeped out like an overgrown cherry. The crowd
+indignantly called the attention of authority to this violation of the
+city laws. A glittering member of the Civil Guard sonorously ordered
+the culprit down. The laughing lad refused to budge, inviting this
+embarrassed arm of the law to reach up and get him. The Guard darkly
+surveyed the slender stem already swaying with the boy's slight
+weight. The fickle crowd, whose every face seemed to be upturned
+toward that defiant cherry, cheered the rebel and tossed him
+cigarettes and matches, wherewith he proceeded to enjoy a smoke. The
+Guard caught a few cigarettes in mid-career, pocketed them, smiled
+benevolently, and walked away. The lad saucily saluted, and the
+multitude, suddenly impartial, pelted them both with peanuts.
+
+Thus it was that the Madrid populace awaited the last coming of
+Castelar. Even when the funeral train was passing, the crowd showed
+scant respect. Not half the men uncovered for the bier, although I was
+glad to see the cherry cap whisked off. And one picturesque gentleman
+stood throughout with his back to the procession, making eyes at his
+novia in the gallery above our own.
+
+The Government, which had finally assumed the charges and care of the
+obsequies, had been remiss in not providing lines of soldiers to hold
+an open way for the cortège. As it was, the procession could hardly
+struggle through the mass of humanity that choked the street. A
+solitary rider, mounted, like Death, on a white horse, went in
+advance, threatening the people with his sword. A division of the
+Civil Guard followed, erect and magnificent as ever, their gold bands
+glittering across their breasts, but their utmost efforts could not
+effectually beat back the crowd. Men scoffed at the drawn blades and
+pushed against the horses with both hands. The empty "coach of
+respect," black as night, its sable horses tossing high white plumes,
+pressed after, and then came some half dozen carriages overflowing
+with wreaths and palms, and all that wealth of floral gifts. The crowd
+caught at the floating purple ribbons, and called aloud the names
+upon the cards; a monster design, with velvet canopy, from the
+well-known daily, _El Liberal_, a beautiful crown from the widow of
+Canovas, and, later in the procession, alone upon the coffin, a
+nosegay of roses and lilies, brought in the morning by a child of
+four, a little "daughter of the people," and bearing the roughly
+written words, "Glory to Castelar!--A workingman."
+
+The train of mourners, impeded as it was by the multitude, seemed
+endless. After the representatives of certain charities there walked,
+in gala uniform, white-headed veterans of war. A great company of
+students followed, their young faces serious and calm in that tempting
+hurly-burly of the street, and after them an overwhelming throng of
+delegates from all manner of commercial and craft unions. Even the
+press wondered that Castelar's death should move so profoundly the
+trading and laboring classes, almost every store and workshop in
+Madrid closing for the afternoon. Then came the Republican committees,
+and behind them the representatives of countless literary, scientific,
+and artistic associations.
+
+At this point in the procession a place had been made for all or any
+who might wish, as individuals, to follow Castelar to the tomb. Some
+fifteen hundred had availed themselves of the opportunity--a motley
+fellowship. The gentlemen preceding, those who had come as delegates
+from the industrial and learned bodies of all Spain, wore almost
+without exception the correct black coat and tall silk hat, and paced,
+when they could, with a steady dignity, or halted, when they must,
+with a grave patience, that did more to quiet the unruly host of
+spectators than all the angry charges of the police. But the fifteen
+hundred showed the popular variety of costume--capes and blouses,
+broad white hats and the artisan's colored cap. Some of them were
+smoking, an indecorum which, by a self-denial that counts for much
+with Spaniards, nowhere else appeared in the long array.
+
+But whatever might be the deficiencies of dress or bearing, here, one
+felt, was the genuine sorrow, here were the men who believed in
+Castelar and longed to do him honor. The impulsive onlookers responded
+to this impression, and more than one rude fellow, who had been
+skylarking a minute before, elbowed his way into the troop and fell
+soberly into such step as there was. Music would have worked wonders
+with that disorderly scene, but the bugles and cornets were all in the
+far rear. The representatives of the provinces, as they struggled by,
+were hailed with jokes and personalities. The chanting group of
+clergy, uplifting the same ebony cross that they had borne for
+Canovas, did not entirely hush the crowd, nor did even the
+black-plumed hearse itself, with its solemn burden. For close after
+came, bearing tapers, a group of political note, closed by Sagasta and
+Campos, and then the chiefs of army and navy, including Blanco and
+Weyler. Behind these walked the city fathers, the senators, the
+diplomats, ex-ministers,--among them Romero, Robledo,--then the
+archbishop, and, finally, Silvela, with his colleagues.
+
+The procession was closed by a military display and a line of empty
+coaches, sent, according to Spanish custom, as a mark of respect. The
+coach sent by Congress, a patriotic blaze of red and yellow, with
+coachman and footman in red coats and yellow trousers, and horses
+decked with red and yellow plumes, looked as if it had started for the
+circus and had missed its way.
+
+  [Illustration: AN OLD-FASHIONED BULL-FIGHT]
+
+The sight of the politicians seemed to serve as spark to the
+Republican fuel. Even while the hearse was passing somebody shouted,
+"Long live Castelar!" but the crowd corrected the cry to "Long live
+the glorious memory of Castelar!" Then came a heterogeneous uproar:
+"Death to the friars!" "Long live the Republican Union!" "Down with
+Reaction!" "Down with the Jesuits!" "Down with Polavieja!" "Down with
+the Government!" "Up with the Republic!" "Long live Spain!" "Long live
+the army!" "Long live Weyler!"
+
+A woman was run over in the confusion and a man was trampled, but the
+procession, aided as much as possible by the Civil Guards and the
+police, slowly worked its way through the _Alcalá_ to the _Puerta del
+Sol_, where the people poured upon it like an avalanche, with ever
+louder cries against ministry and clergy, until the scene in front of
+the Government Building suggested something very like a mob. Silvela
+bore his silvered head erect and exerted a prudent forbearance. But
+few arrests were made, and the military force that sallied out from
+the Government Building merely stood in the gates to awe the rioters.
+After an hour and a quarter the transit of the square was effected.
+The disturbances were renewed in the _Calle Mayor_ with such violence
+that the ministers were advised to withdraw, but they only entered the
+funeral coaches, and, the Guards exerting themselves to the utmost, a
+degree of order was at last secured. While the cortège was descending
+the difficult hill of La Vega, the Queen, standing in one of the
+palace balconies, opera glass in hand, sent a messenger for a report
+of the state of affairs in her capital, and was visited and reassured
+by a member of the Government.
+
+After this stormy journey the cemetery of San Isidro was reached at
+nightfall, and the silent orator laid to rest in the patio of _Santa
+Maria de la Cabeza_, beside his beloved sister, Concha Castelar. Even
+here Republican _vivas_ were raised, and again, later in the evening,
+before the house of Weyler, who appeared upon the balcony in answer to
+repeated calls. This general, more popular with Spaniards than with
+us, discreetly absented himself on Tuesday from the high mass chanted
+for Castelar in the Church of _San Francisco el Grande_, where there
+was an imposing display of uniforms and decorations.
+
+While the people still talked of their lost leader and proposed
+monuments and medals in his honor, the Government held firmly on its
+course. The Royal Progress for the opening of the Cortes on the
+following Friday was a suggestive contrast to the procession of
+Monday. Soldiers lined the curbstones all the way from the Royal
+Palace to the Congress Hall, bands were posted at intervals, the royal
+escort, splendidly mounted and equipped, was in itself a formidable
+force, while additional troops, in gala dress, paraded all the city.
+The balconies along the royal route were handsomely draped, but the
+people looked on at the gorgeous array of coaches, gilded and
+emblazoned, each drawn by six or eight choice horses, with sumptuous
+plumes and trappings, and attended by a story-book pomp of quaintly
+attired postilions, coachmen, and outriders, in a silence that was
+variously explained to me as indicating respect, hostility,
+indifference.
+
+I heard no _vivas_ and saw no hats raised even for the affable Infanta
+Isabel, riding alone in the tortoise-shell carriage, nor for the
+Princess of Asturias, girlishly attractive in rose color and white,
+nor for the bright-faced young King, ready with his military salute as
+he passed the foreign embassies, nor for the stately Regent, robed as
+richly as if she were on her way to read a gladder message than that
+which the opposition journals indignantly declared "no message, but a
+pious prayer of resignation."
+
+And while Madrid jarred and wrangled, the flowers brought by the
+little daughter of the workingman drooped on the marble slab above
+Castelar's repose.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+THE IMMEMORIAL FASHION
+
+     "For as many auchours affirme (and mannes accions declare)
+     that man is but his mynde; so it is to bee daily tride, that
+     the bodie is but a mixture of compoundes, knitte together like
+     a fardell of fleashe, and bondell of bones, and united as a
+     heavie lumpe of Leade (without the mynde) in the sillie
+     substance of a shadowe."--THOMAS CHURCHILL, GENTLEMAN.
+
+
+My Spanish hostess, brightest and prettiest of little ladies despite
+the weight of sorrow upon sorrow, came tripping into my room one
+afternoon with her black eyes starry bright under the lace mantilla.
+
+"And where have you been to get so nicely rested?"
+
+"To a _duelo_."
+
+I turned the word over in my mind. _Duelo?_ Surely that must mean the
+mourning at a house of death, when the men have gone forth to church
+and the burial, and the women remain behind to weep together, or one
+of those tearful _At Homes_ kept, day after day, until the mass, by
+the ladies of the afflicted household for their condoling friends. But
+such a smiling little señora! I hardly knew what degree of sympathy
+befitted the occasion.
+
+"Were you acquainted with the--the person?"
+
+"No, I had never seen him. He had been an officer in the Philippines
+many years, and came home very ill, fifteen days since. I wept
+because I knew his mother, but I wept much. Women, at least here in
+Spain, have always cause enough for tears. I thought of my own
+matters, and had a long, long cry. That is why I feel better. There is
+so little time to cry at home. I must see about the dinner now."
+
+And she rustled out again, leaving me to meditate on Spanish
+originality, even in grief.
+
+In any country the usages of death are no less significant than the
+usages of life. That grim necropolis of Glasgow, with its few shy
+gowans under its lowering sky, those tender, turf-folded,
+church-shadowed graveyards of rural England, those trains of mourners,
+men by themselves and women by themselves, walking behind the bier in
+mid-street through the mud and rain of wintry Paris to the bedizened
+Père Lachaise or Montparnasse--such sights interpret a nation as truly
+as its art and history; but the burial customs of Spain, especially
+distinctive, are, like most things Spanish, contradictory and baffling
+to the tourist view. "La Tierra de Vice Versa" is not a country that
+he who runs may read.
+
+The popular verses and maxims treat of death with due Castilian
+solemnity and an always unflinching, if often ironic, recognition of
+the mortal fact. "When the house is finished," says the proverb, "the
+hearse is at the door." Yet this Spanish hearse is one of the gayest
+vehicles since Cinderella's coach. If the groundwork is black, there
+is abundant relief in mountings of brilliant yellow, but the funeral
+carriage is often cream-white, flourished over with fantastic designs
+in the bluest of blue or the pinkest of pink. Coffins, too, may be
+gaudy as candy-boxes. The first coffin we saw in Spain was bright
+lilac, a baby's casket, placed on gilt trestles in the centre of a
+great chill church, with chanting priests sprinkling holy water about
+it to frighten off the demons, and a crowd of black-bearded men
+waiting to follow it to the grave. Such a little coffin and not a
+woman near! The poor mother was decently at home, weeping in the midst
+of a circle of relatives and neighbors, and counting it among her
+comforts that the family had so many masculine friends to walk in the
+funeral procession and show sympathy with the household grief. There
+would be, on the ninth day after and, for several years to come, on
+the anniversary of the death, as many masses as could be afforded said
+in the parish church, when, again, the friends would make it a point
+of duty to attend.
+
+The daily papers abound in these notices, printed in a variety of
+types, so as to cover from two to ten square inches, heavily bordered
+with black, and surmounted, in case of adults, with crosses, and with
+cherubs' heads for children. I take up a copy of _La Epocha_ and read
+the following, under a cross: "Third Anniversary. Señorita Doña
+Francisca Fulana y Tal died the twenty-sixth of June, 1896, at
+twenty-one years of age. R. I. P. Her disconsolate mother and the rest
+of the family ask their friends and all pious persons to be so good as
+to commend her to God. All the masses celebrated to-morrow morning in
+the Church of San Pascual will be applied to the everlasting rest of
+the soul of the said señorita. Indulgences are granted in the usual
+form." It is the third anniversary, too, of a titled lady, whose
+"husband, brothers, brothers-in-law, nephews, uncles, cousins, and all
+who inherit under her will" have ordered masses in two churches for
+the entire day to-morrow, and announce, moreover, that the
+ecclesiastical authorities grant "one hundred and forty days of
+indulgence to all the faithful for each mass that they hear, sacred
+communion that they devote, or portion of a rosary that they pray for
+the soul of this most noble lady."
+
+In the case of another lady of high degree, who died yesterday,
+"having received the Blessed Sacraments and the benediction of his
+Holiness," the Nuncio concedes one hundred days of indulgence, the
+Archbishop of Burgos eighty, and the Bishops of Madrid, Alcalá,
+Cartagena, Leon, and Santander forty each; while a marquis who died a
+year ago, "Knight of the Illustrious Order of the Golden Fleece," is
+to have masses said for his soul in seven churches, not only all
+through to-morrow, but for the two days following.
+
+May all these rest in peace, and all who mourn for them be comforted!
+Yet thought drifts away to the poor and lowly, whose grief cannot find
+solace in procuring this costly intercession of the Church for the
+souls they love. It seems hard that the inequalities of life should
+thus reach out into death and purgatory. We used, during our sojourn
+in Granada, to meet many pathetic little processions on "The Way of
+the Dead." Over this hollow road, almost a ravine, the fortress walls,
+with their crumbling towers, keep guard on the one side, and the
+terraced gardens of the _Generalife_, with their grand old cypresses,
+on the other. And here, almost every hour of the day, is climbing a
+company of four rough men, carrying on their shoulders a cheap coffin,
+which perhaps a husband follows, or a white-haired father, or, hand in
+hand, bewildered orphan boys. The road is so steep that often the
+bearers set their burden down in the shadow of the bank-side, and
+fling themselves at full length on the ground beside it, thriftily
+passing from man to man the slow-burning wax match for their paper
+cigarettes. I remember more than one such smoking group, with a
+solitary mourner, hat in hand and eyes on the coffin, yet he, too,
+with cigarette in mouth, standing patiently by. All who pass make the
+sign of the cross, and even the rudest peasant uncovers his head. Very
+shortly the bearers may be seen again, coming down the hill at a merry
+pace, the empty box, with its loose, rattling lid, tilted over the
+shoulder now of one, now of another; for the children of poverty, who
+had not chambers of their own nor the dignity of solitude in life, lie
+huddled in a common pit after death, without coffin-planks to sever
+dust from dust.
+
+A century ago it was usual to robe the dead in monastic garb,
+especially in the habit of St. Francis or of the Virgin of Carmen, and
+within the present generation bodies were borne to the grave on open
+biers, the bystanders saluting, and bidding them farewell and quiet
+rest:--
+
+     "'Duerme in paz!' dicen los buenos.
+     'Adios!' dicen los demás."
+
+But now the closed coffin of many colors is in vogue. In the Santiago
+market we met a cheerful dame with one of these balanced on her head,
+crying for a purchaser, and up the broad flights of steps to the
+Bilbao cemetery we saw a stolid-faced young peasant-woman swinging
+along with a child's white coffin, apparently heavy with the weight of
+death, poised on the glossy black coils of hair, about which she had
+twisted a carmine handkerchief.
+
+Very strange is the look of a Spanish cemetery, with its ranges of
+high, deep walls, wherein the coffins are thrust end-wise, each above
+each, to the altitude of perhaps a dozen layers. These cells are
+sometimes purchased outright, sometimes rented for ten years, or five,
+or one. When the friends of the quiet tenant pay his dues no longer,
+forth he goes to the general ditch, _osario común_, and leaves his
+room for another. Such wall graves are characteristically Spanish,
+this mode of burial in the Peninsula being of long antiquity. Yet the
+rich prefer their own pantheons, sculptured like little chapels, or
+their own vaults, over which rise tall marbles of every device, the
+shaft, the pyramid, the broken column; while a poor family, or two or
+three neighboring households, often make shift to pay for one large
+earth grave, in which their dead may at least find themselves among
+kith and kin. Spanish cemeteries are truly silent cities, with streets
+upon streets enclosed between these solemn walls, which open out, at
+intervals, now for the ornamented patios of the rich, now for the
+dreary squares peopled by the poor. Here in a most aristocratic
+quarter, shaded by willows, set with marbles, paved with flower beds,
+sleeps a duke in stately pantheon, which is carved all over with
+angels, texts, and sacred symbols, still leaving room for medallions
+boasting his ancestral dignities. A double row of lamps, with gilded,
+fantastically moulded stands, and with dangling crystals of all
+colors, leads to the massive iron door. What enemy has he now to guard
+against with that array of bolts and bars? Here are a poet's palms
+petrified to granite, and here a monument all muffled in fresh
+flowers. Here the magnificent bronze figure of a knight, with sword
+half drawn, keeps watch beside a tomb, while the grave beyond a rose
+bush guards as well. And here an imaged Sandalphon holds out open
+hands, this legend written across his marble scarf, "The tear falleth;
+the flower fadeth; but God treasureth the prayer."
+
+There is a certain high-bred reserve about these costly sepulchres,
+but turning to the walls one comes so face to face with grief as to
+experience a sense of intrusion. Each cell shows on its sealed door of
+slate or other stone the name and age of its occupant, and perhaps a
+sentiment, lettered in gilt or black, as these: "We bear our loss--God
+knows how heavily." "Son of my soul." "For thee, that land of larger
+love; for me, until I find thee there, only the valley of sorrow and
+the hard hill of hope."
+
+Most of the cells have, too, a glassed or grated recess in front of
+this inscription wall, holding tributes or memorials--dried flowers,
+colored images of saints and angels, crucifixes, and the like.
+Sometimes the resurrection symbol of the butterfly appears. In the
+little cemetery at Vigo we noticed that the flower-vases were in form
+of great blue butterflies with scarlet splashes on their wings.
+Sometimes there are locks of hair, personal trinkets, and often card
+or cabinet photographs, whose living look startles the beholder. Out
+from a wreath of yellow immortelles peeps the plump smile of an old
+gentleman in modern dress coat; a coquettish lady in tiara and
+earrings laughs from behind her fan; and a grove of paper shrubbery,
+where tissue fairies dressed in rose petals dance on the blossoms,
+half hides the eager face of a Spanish midshipman. Where the
+photographs have faded and dimmed with time, the effect is less
+incongruous, if not less pathetic.
+
+The niches of children contain the gayest possible little figures.
+Here are china angels in blue frocks, with pink sleeves and saffron
+pantalets, pink-tipped plumes, and even pink bows in their goldy hair.
+Here is a company of tiny Hamlets, quaint dollikins set up in a circle
+about a small green grave, each with finger on lip, "The rest is
+silence." Here are two elegant and lazy cherubs, their alabaster
+chubbiness comfortably bestowed in toy chairs of crimson velvet on
+each side of an ivory crucifix. And here is a Bethlehem, and here a
+Calvary, and here the Good Shepherd bearing the lamb in His bosom; and
+here, in simple, but artistic wood carving, the Christ with open arms,
+calling to a child on sick-bed to come unto Him, while the mother,
+prostrate before the holy feet, kisses their shadow. One cannot look
+for long. It is well to lift the eyes from the niche graves of Granada
+to the glory of the Sierra Nevada that soars beyond, and turn from the
+patios of San Isidro to the cheerful picture of Madrid across the
+Manzanares, even though, prominent in the vista, rises the cupola of
+_San Francisco el Grande_. This is the National Pantheon, and within,
+beneath the frescoed dome, all aglow with blue and gold, masses are
+chanted for the dead whom Spain decrees to honor, as, so recently, for
+Castelar.
+
+Near this church a viaduct, seventy-five feet high, crosses the _Calle
+de Segovia_; and, despite the tall crooked railings and a constant
+police patrol, Madrileños bent on suicide often succeed in leaping
+over and bruising out their breath on the stones of the street below.
+It is a desperate exit. The Seine and Thames lure their daily victims
+with murmuring sound and the soft, enfolding look of water, but
+Spaniards who spring from this fatal viaduct see beneath them only the
+cruel pavement. That life should be harder than stone! And yet the
+best vigilance of Madrid cannot prevent fresh bloodstains on the
+_Calle de Segovia_.
+
+Near the cemetery of San Isidro, across the Manzanares, are two other
+large Catholic burial grounds, and the _Cementério Inglés_.
+
+"But murderers, atheists, and Protestants are buried way off in the
+east," said the pretty Spanish girl beside me.
+
+"Oh, let's go there!" I responded, with heretic enthusiasm; but I had
+reckoned without the cabman, who promptly and emphatically protested.
+
+"That's not a pleasant place for ladies to see. You would better drive
+in the _Prado_ and _Recoletos_, or in the _Buen Retiro_."
+
+We told him laughingly that he was speaking against his own interests,
+for the Civil Cemetery was much farther off than the parks. He
+consulted his dignity and decided to laugh in return.
+
+"It is not of the _pesetas_ I think first when I am driving ladies.
+But" (with suave indulgence) "you shall go just where you like."
+
+So in kindness he gathered up his reins and away we clattered sheer
+across the city. Presently we had left the fountain-cooled squares and
+animated streets behind, had passed even the ugly, sinister _Plaza de
+Toros_, and outstripped the trolley track; but still the road
+stretched on, enlivened only by herds of goats and an occasional
+_venta_, where drivers of mule trains were pausing to wet their dusty
+throats. We met few vehicles now save the gay-colored hearses, and few
+people except groups of returning mourners, walking in bewildered
+wise, with stumbling feet.
+
+"The Cemetery of the Poor is opposite the Civil Cemetery," said our
+cabman, "and they have from thirty to fifty burials a day. The keeper
+is a friend of mine. He shall show you all about."
+
+A bare Castilian ridge rose before us, where a farmer, leaning on his
+scythe, was outlined against the sky like a silhouette of Death. And
+at last our cheery driver, humming bars from a popular light opera,
+checked his mettlesome old mare,--who plunged down hills and scrambled
+up as if she were running away from the bull-ring, where she must soon
+fulfil her martyrdom,--between two dismal graveyards. From the larger,
+on our right, tiptoed out a furtive man and peered into the cab as if
+he thought we had a coffin under the seat.
+
+He proved a blood-curdling conductor, always speaking in a hoarse
+whisper and glancing over his shoulder in a way to make the stoutest
+nerves feel ghosts, but he showed us, under that sunset sky, memorable
+sights--ranks upon ranks of gritty mounds marked with black, wooden
+crosses, a scanty grace for which the living often pay the price of
+their own bread that the dead they love may pass a year or two out of
+that hideous general fosse. Then the sexton reluctantly led us to the
+unblessed, untended hollow across the way, where rows of brick
+sepulchres await the poor babies who die before the holy water touches
+them, where recumbent marbles press upon the dead who knew no upward
+reach of hope, and where defiant monuments, erected by popular
+subscription and often bearing the blazonry of a giant quill, denote
+the resting-places of freethinkers and the agitators of new ideas.
+There were some Christian inscriptions, whether for Protestants or not
+I do not know, but to my two companions there was no distinction of
+persons in this unhallowed limbo.
+
+Our dusty guide led us hurriedly from plot to plot.
+
+"They say the mothers cheat the priests, and there are babies over
+yonder that ought to be here, for the breath was out of them before
+ever they were baptized. They say the priests had this man done to
+death one night, because he wrote against religion. He was only
+twenty-two. The club he belonged to put up that stone. They say there
+are evil words on it. But I don't know myself. I can't read, thanks to
+God. They say it was through reading and writing that most of these
+came here."
+
+"But those are not evil words," I answered. "They are, 'Believe in
+Jesus and thou shalt be saved.'"
+
+He hastily crossed himself, "Do me the favor not to read such words
+out loud. Here is another, where they say the words are words of
+hell."
+
+I held my peace this time, musing on that broad marble with its one
+deep-cut line, "The Death of God."
+
+"And over there," he croaked, pointing with his clay-colored thumb,
+"is _Whiskers_."
+
+The señorita, whose black eyes had been getting larger and larger,
+gave a little scream and fairly ran for the gate.
+
+Spaniards have usually great sympathy for criminals, newspaper
+accounts of executions often closing with an entreaty for God's mercy
+on "this poor man's soul," but _Whiskers_, the Madrid sensation of a
+fortnight since, was a threefold murderer. Passion-mad, he had shot
+dead in the open street a neighbor's youthful wife, held the public at
+bay with his revolver, and mortally wounded two Civil Guards, before
+he turned the fatal barrel on himself.
+
+"His family wanted him laid over the way," continued that scared
+undertone at my ear, "but the bishop said no. A murderer like that was
+just as bad as infidels and Protestants, and should be buried out of
+grace."
+
+I felt as if Superstition incarnate were walking by my side, and after
+one more look at that strangely peopled patch of unconsecrated ground,
+with its few untrimmed cypresses and straggling rose bushes, hillside
+slopes about and glory-flooded skies above, I gave Superstition a
+_peseta_, which he devoutly kissed, and returned to the cab, followed
+by the carol of a solitary bird.
+
+I remember a similar experience in Cadiz. I had driven out with one of
+my Spanish hostesses to the large seaside cemetery, a mile beyond the
+gate. This is arranged in nine successive patios, planted with palms
+and cypresses. In the niches, seashells play a prominent part. The
+little angel images, as gay as ever, with their pink girdles and their
+purple wings, may be seen swinging in shells, sleeping in shells, and
+balancing on the edge of shells to play their golden flutes. Near by
+is an English and German cemetery, with green-turfed mounds and a
+profusion of blossoming shrubs and flower beds. Not sure of the
+direction, as we were leaving the Catholic enclosure I asked a
+bandy-legged, leather-visaged old sexton, who might have been the very
+one that dug Ophelia's grave, if the "Protestant cemetery" was at our
+right. He laid down his mattock, peered about among the mausolea to
+see if we were quite alone, winked prodigiously, and, drawing a bunch
+of keys from the folds of his black sash, started briskly down a
+by-path and signed to us to follow. He led us through stony passages
+out beyond the sanctified ground into a dreary, oblong space, a patch
+of weeds and sand, enclosed by the lofty sepulchral walls, but with a
+blessed strip of blue sky overhead.
+
+"Here they are!" he chuckled. "They wouldn't confess, they died
+without the sacraments, and here they are."
+
+Some names lettered on the wall seemed to be those of Dutch and
+Norwegian sailors, who had perhaps died friendless in this foreign
+port. There were pebble-strewn graves of Jews, and upright marbles
+from which the dead still seemed to utter voice: "I refuse the prayers
+of all the saints, and ask the prayers of honest human souls. I
+believe in God." And another, "God is knowledge." And another, "God is
+All that works for Wisdom and for Love."
+
+"Are there burial services for these?" I inquired.
+
+If the Church of England could have seen that crooked old sexton go
+through his gleeful pantomime!
+
+"There's one that comes with some, and they call him Pastor! And he
+scrapes up a handful of dirt--so! And he flings it at the coffin--so!
+And then he stands up straight and says, 'Dust to dust!' I've heard
+him say it myself."
+
+"God of my soul!" cried the Spanish lady in horror, and to express her
+detestation of such a heathenish rite, she spat upon the ground.
+
+The monarchs of Spain do not mingle their ashes. Who knows where
+Roderick sleeps? Or does that deathless culprit still lurk in mountain
+caverns, as tradition has it, wringing his wasted hands and tearing
+his white beard in unavailing penitence? The "Catholic kings,"
+Ferdinand and Isabella, lie, not where they had planned, in that
+beautiful Gothic church of Toledo, _San Juan de los Reyes_, on whose
+outer walls yet hang the Moorish chains struck from the limbs of
+Christian captives, but in Granada, the city of their conquest, where
+they slumber proudly, although their coffins are of plainest lead and
+their last royal chamber a small and dusky vault. Pedro the Cruel is
+thrust away in a narrow wall-grave beneath the _Capilla Real_ of
+Seville cathedral. His brother, the Master of Santiago, whom he
+treacherously slew in one of the loveliest halls of the Alcázar, is
+packed closely in on his left, and Maria de Padilla, for whose sake he
+cut short the hapless life of Queen Blanche, on his right. Pleasant
+family discussions they must have at the witching hour of night, when
+they drag their numb bones out of those pigeon-holes for a brief
+respite of elbow room! San Fernando, the Castilian conqueror of
+Castile, canonized "because he carried fagots with his own hands for
+the burning of heretics," is more commodiously accommodated in a
+silver sarcophagus in the chapel above, where Alfonso the Learned also
+has long leisure for thought. Another Alfonso and another Fernando,
+with another wife of Pedro the Cruel, keep their state in Santiago de
+Compostela, and still another Alfonso and two Sanchos have their
+splendid tombs in the _Capilla Mayor_ of Toledo cathedral, while in
+its _Capilla de los Reyes Nuevos_, a line descended from that brother
+whom Pedro murdered, sleeps the first John, with the second and third
+Henrys.
+
+  [Illustration: BULL-FIGHT OF TO-DAY]
+
+Cordova cathedral, although this lovely mosque recks little of
+Christian majesties, has the ordinary equipment of an Alfonso and a
+Fernando, and the Royal Monastery of Las Huelgas in Burgos shelters
+Alfonso VIII, with his queen, Eleanor of England. In less noted
+churches, one continually chances on them, _rey_ or _reina_, _infante_
+or _infanta_, dreaming the centuries away in rich recesses of fretted
+marble and alabaster, with the shadow of great arches over them and
+the deep-voiced chant around.
+
+But since Philip II created, in his own sombre likeness, the monastery
+of the Escorial, rising in angular austerity from a spur of the bleak
+Guadarrama Mountains, the royal houses of Austria and Bourbon have
+sought burial there. The first and chief in the dank series of
+sepulchral vaults, the celebrated _Panteón de los Reyes_, is an
+octagon of black marble, placed precisely under the high altar, and
+gloomily magnificent with jasper, porphyry, and gold. It has an altar
+of its own, on whose left are three recesses, each with four long
+shelves placed one above another for the sarcophagi of the kings of
+Spain, and on whose right are corresponding recesses for the queens.
+As the guide holds his torch, we read the successive names of the
+great Charles I, founder of the Austrian line; the three Philips, in
+whom his genius dwindled more and more; and the half-witted Charles
+II, in whom it ignobly perished. The coffin lid of Charles I has twice
+been lifted, once as late as 1871, in compliment to the visiting
+Emperor of Brazil, and even then that imperial body lay intact, with
+blackened face and open, staring eyes. The gilded bronze coffin of
+Philip II was brought to his bedside for his inspection in his last
+hour of life. After a critical survey he ordered a white satin lining
+and more gilt nails--a remarkable sense of detail in a man who had
+sent some ten thousand heretics to the torture.
+
+Looking for the Bourbons, we miss the first of them all, the
+melancholy Philip V, who would not lay him down among these Austrians,
+but sleeps with his second queen, the strong-willed Elizabeth
+Farnese, in his cloudy retreat of San Ildefonso, within hearing of the
+fountains of La Granja. His eldest son, Luis the Well-Beloved, who
+died after a reign of seven months, rests here in the Escorial, but
+Fernando VI, also the son of Philip's first queen--that gallant little
+Savoyarde who died so young--was buried in Madrid. Charles III, best
+and greatest of the Spanish Bourbons, is here, the weak Charles IV,
+Fernando VII, "The Desired" and the Disgraceful, and Alfonso XII,
+while a stately sarcophagus is already reserved for Alfonso XIII.
+
+To the cold society of these five Austrian and five Bourbon sovereigns
+are admitted nine royal ladies. Of these, the first three are in good
+and regular standing--the queen of Charles I and mother of Philip II,
+the fourth queen of Philip II and mother of Philip III, the queen of
+Philip III and mother of Philip IV. But here is an intruder. Philip
+IV, who had an especial liking for this grewsome vault, and used often
+to clamber into his own niche to hear mass, insisted on having both
+his French and Austrian queens interred here, although the first,
+Isabel of Bourbon, is not the mother of a Spanish king, the promising
+little Baltasar having died in boyhood. The brave girl-queen of Philip
+V is here, in double right as mother both of Luis and Fernando VI, and
+here is the wife of Charles III and mother of Charles IV. But of sorry
+repute are the last two queens, the wife of Charles IV and mother of
+Fernando VII, she who came hurrying down those slippery marble stairs
+in feverish delirium to scratch _Luisa_ with scissors on her selected
+coffin, and this other, Maria Cristina, wife of Fernando VII and
+mother of the dethroned Isabel, a daughter who did not mend the story.
+It will not be long before she returns from her French exile to enter
+into possession of the sarcophagus that expects her here, even as
+another sumptuous coffin awaits the present regent. Pity it is for
+Isabel, whose name is still a byword in the Madrid cafés! But she
+always enjoyed hearing midnight mass in this dim and dreadful crypt,
+and will doubtless be glad to come back to her ancestors, such as they
+were, and take up her royal residence with them in "dust of human
+nullity and ashes of mortality."
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+CORPUS CHRISTI IN TOLEDO
+
+     "A blackened ruin, lonely and forsaken,
+     Already wrapt in winding-sheets of sand,
+     So lies Toledo till the dead awaken,
+     A royal spoil of Time's resistless hand."
+                                    --ZORRILLA: _Toledo_.
+
+
+In the thirteenth century the doctrine of transubstantiation assumed
+especial importance. Miracle plays and cathedral glass told thrilling
+stories of attacks made by Jews on the sacred Wafer, which bled under
+their poniards or sprang from their caldrons and ovens in complete
+figure of the Christ. The festival of Corpus Christi, then established
+by Rome, was devoutly accepted in Spain and used to be celebrated with
+supreme magnificence in Madrid. Early in the reign of Philip IV,
+Prince Charles of England, who, with the adventurous Buckingham, had
+come in romantic fashion to the Spanish capital, hoping to carry by
+storm the heart of the Infanta, stood for hours in a balcony of the
+Alcázar, gazing silently on the glittering procession. How they swept
+by through the herb-strewn, tapestried streets--musicians,
+standard-bearers, cross-bearers, files of orphans from the asylums,
+six and thirty religious brotherhoods, monks of all the orders,
+barefoot friars, ranks of secular clergy and brothers of charity, the
+proud military orders of Alcántara, Calatrava, and Santiago, the
+Councils of the Indies, of Aragon, of Portugal, the Supreme Council of
+Castile, the City Fathers of Madrid, the Governmental Ministers of
+Spain and Spanish Italy, the Tribunal of the Holy Office, preceded by
+a long array of cloaked and hooded Familiars, bishops upon bishops in
+splendid, gold-enwoven vestments, priests of the royal chapel
+displaying the royal banner, bearers of the crosier and the
+sacramental vessels, the Archbishop of Santiago, royal chaplains and
+royal majordomos, royal pages with tall wax tapers, incense burners,
+the canopied mystery of the Eucharist, the king, the prince,
+cardinals, nuncio, the inquisitor general, the Catholic ambassadors,
+the patriarch of the Indies, the all-powerful Count-Duke Olivares,
+grandees, lesser nobility, gentlemen, and a display of Spanish and
+German troops, closed by a great company of archers. So overwhelming
+was that solemn progress, with its brilliant variety of sacerdotal
+vestments, knightly habits, robes of state and military trappings, its
+maces, standards, crosses, the flash of steel, gold, jewels, and
+finally the sheen of candles, the clouds of incense, the tinkling of
+silver bells before the _Santisimo Corpus_, that the heretic prince
+and his reckless companion fell to their knees. One Spanish author
+pauses to remark that for these, who could even then reject the open
+arms of the Mother Church, the assassin's blow and the Whitehall block
+were naturally waiting.
+
+Such a pomp would have been worth the seeing, but we had arrived at
+Madrid almost three centuries too late. Catholic friends shrugged
+shoulder at mention of the Corpus procession, "_Vale poco._" And as
+for the famous _autos sacramentales_, which used to be celebrated at
+various times during the eight days of the Corpus solemnity, they may
+be read in musty volumes, but can be seen in the city squares no more.
+Calderon is said to have written the trifling number of seventy-two,
+and Lope de Vega, whose fingers must have been tipped with pens, some
+four hundred.
+
+If only our train, which then would not have been a train, had brought
+us, who then would not have come, to Madrid in season for a Corpus
+celebration under the Austrian dynasty, we could have attended an
+open-air theatre of a very curious sort. All the way to the _Plaza_,
+we would have seen festivity at its height, pantomimic dances, merry
+music, struttings of giants and antics of dwarfs, and perhaps groups
+of boys insulting cheap effigies of snakes, modelled after the
+monstrous _Tarasca_, carried in the Corpus parade in token of Christ's
+victory over the Devil. At intervals along the route, adorned with
+flowers and draperies, and reserved for the procession and the
+dramatic cars, would have been altars hung with rich stuffs from the
+Alcázar and the aristocratic palaces; silks and cloth of gold,
+brocades, velvets, and shimmering wefts of the Indies. The one-act
+play itself might be after the general fashion of the mediæval
+Miracles,--verse dialogue, tuned to piety with chords of fun, for the
+setting forth of Biblical stories. Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac, Moses
+feeding the Israelites with manna, the patience of Job, the trials of
+Joseph, David, and Daniel, were thus represented.
+
+More frequently, the _auto sacramental_ belonged to the so-called
+Morality type of early Christian drama, being an allegorical
+presentation of human experience or exposition of church doctrine.
+Such were "The Fountain of Grace," "The Journey of the Soul," "The
+Dance of Death," "The Pilgrim." Sometimes a Gospel parable, as the
+"Lost Sheep" or the "Prodigal Son," gave the dramatic suggestion. But
+these Spanish spectacles sought to associate themselves, as closely as
+might be, with the Corpus worship, and many of them bear directly, in
+one way or another, upon this sacrament.
+
+If, for instance, we had chanced on the Madrid festival in 1681, we
+could have witnessed in the decorated _Plaza_, with its thronged
+balconies, the entrance of four scenic platforms or cars. The first,
+painted over with battles, bears a Gothic castle; the second, with
+pictures of the sea, a gallant ship; the third, a starry globe; the
+fourth, a grove and garden, whose central fountain is so shaped as to
+form, above, the semblance of an altar. In the complicated action of
+the play, when the Soul, besieged in her fortress by the Devil, whose
+allies are the World and the Flesh, calls upon Christ for succor, the
+hollow sphere of the third car opens, revealing the Lord enthroned in
+glory amid cherubim and seraphim; but the climax of the triumph is not
+yet. That stout old general, the Devil, rallies fresh forces to the
+attack, such subtle foes as Atheism, Judaism, and Apostasy, and
+whereas, before, the Senses bore the brunt of the conflict, it is the
+Understanding that girds on armor now. Yet in the final outcome not
+the Understanding, but Faith draws the veil from before the altar of
+the fourth car, and there, in the consecrated vessel for the holding
+of the Wafer, appears the "Passion Child," the white bread from
+Heaven, "very flesh and very blood that are the price of the soul's
+salvation."
+
+That is the way Spain kept her Corpus _fiesta_ in the good old times
+of Charles the Bewitched; but not now. After the procession, the
+bull-fight; and after the bull-fight, the latest vaudeville or ballet.
+Last year it rained on Corpus Thursday, which fell on the first of
+June, and Madrid gave up the procession altogether. Some of the
+Opposition papers started the cry that this was shockingly irreligious
+in Silvela, but when the Government organs haughtily explained that it
+was the decision of the archbishop and Señor Silvela was not even
+consulted, the righteous indignation of the Liberals straightway
+subsided. The procession, which was to have been a matter of
+kettledrums and clarionets, soldiery, "coaches of respect" from the
+palace and the city corporation, and a full showing of the parochial
+clergy, did not seem to be missed by the people. Corpus has long
+ceased to be a chief event in the Capital.
+
+There are a few cities in Spain, however, where the Corpus fête is
+maintained with something of the old gayety and splendor. Bustling
+Barcelona, never too busy for a frolic, keeps it merrily with an
+elaborate parade from the cathedral all about the city,
+and--delightful feature!--the distribution of flowers and sweetmeats
+among the ladies. The procession in Valencia resembles those of Holy
+Week in Seville. On litters strewn with flowers and thick-set with
+candle-lights are borne carved groups of sacred figures and richly
+attired images of Christ and the Virgin. But it is in lyric Andalusia
+that these pageantries are most at home. Among her popular _coplas_ is
+one that runs:--
+
+     "Thursdays three in the year there be,
+       That shine more bright than the sun's own ray--
+     Holy Thursday, Corpus Christi,
+       And our Lord's Ascension Day."
+
+Cadiz, like Valencia, carries the _pasos_ in the Corpus procession. In
+Seville, where the street displays of Holy Week are under the charge
+of the religious brotherhoods, or _cofradias_, Corpus Christi gives
+opportunity for the clergy and aristocracy to present a rival
+exhibition of sanctified luxury and magnificence.
+
+But it is in beautiful belated Granada that the Corpus fête is now at
+its best. A brilliantly illustrated programme, whose many-hued cover
+significantly groups a gamboge cathedral very much in the background,
+and a flower-crowned Andalusian maiden, draped in a Manila shawl, with
+a prodigious guitar at her feet, very much in the foreground,
+announces a medley of festivities extending over eleven days. This
+cheerful booklet promises, together with a constant supply of military
+music, balcony decorations, and city illuminations, an assortment of
+pleasures warranted to suit every taste--infantry reviews, cavalry
+reviews, cadet reviews, masses under roof and masses in the open,
+claustral processions, parades of giants, dwarfs, and _La Tarasca_, a
+charity raffle in the park under the patronage of Granada's most
+distinguished ladies, the erection of out-of-door altars, the
+dispensing of six thousand loaves of bread among the poor (from my
+experience of Granada beggars I should say the supply was
+insufficient), a solemn Corpus procession passing along white-canopied
+streets under a rain of flowers, three regular bull-fights with the
+grand masters Guerrita, Lagartijillo, and Fuentes, followed by a
+gloriously brutal _corrida_, with young beasts and inexperienced
+fighters, cattle fair, booths, puppet shows, climbing of greased
+poles, exhibition of fine arts and industries, horse racing, polo,
+pigeon shoot, trapeze, balloon ascensions, gypsy dances, and fireworks
+galore.
+
+But even faithful Granada shared in the strange catalogue of
+misfortunes which attended Corpus last year. The rains descended on
+her Chinese lanterns, and the winds beat against her Arabic arches
+with their thousands of gas-lights. On the sacred Thursday itself, the
+Andalusian weather made a most unusual demonstration of hurricane and
+cloudburst, with interludes of thunder and lightning. Great was the
+damage in field, vineyard, and orchard, and as for processions, they
+were in many places out of the question. Even Seville and Cordova had
+to postpone both parades and bull-fights. But this was not the worst.
+In Ecija, one of the quaintest cities of Andalusia, an image of the
+Virgin as the Divine Shepherdess, lovingly arrayed and adorned with no
+little outlay by the nuns of the Conception, caught fire in the
+procession from a taper, like Seville's Virgin of Montserrat in the
+last _Semana Santa_. The _Divina Pastora_ barely escaped with her
+jewels. Her elaborate garments, the herbage and foliage of her
+pasture, and one of her woolly sheep were burned to ashes. In Palma de
+Mallorca, a romantic town of the Balearic Isles, a balcony, whose
+occupants were leaning out to watch the procession, broke away, and
+crashed down into the midst of the throng. A young girl fell upon the
+bayonet of a soldier marching beneath, and was grievously hurt. Others
+suffered wounds which, in one case at least, proved fatal. The
+Opposition journals did not fail to make capital out of these untoward
+events, serving them up in satiric verse with the irreverent
+suggestion that, if this was all the favor a reactionary and
+ultra-Catholic government could secure from Heaven, it was time to go
+back to Sagasta.
+
+The ecclesiastical Toledo, seat of the Primate of all Spain, is one
+of the Spanish cities which still observe Corpus Christi as a high
+solemnity, and Toledo is within easy pilgrimage distance of Madrid. I
+had already passed two days in that ancient capital of the Visigoths,
+ridding my conscience of the sightseers' burden, and I both longed and
+dreaded to return. The longing overcame the dread, and I dropped in at
+the _Estacion del Mediodía_ for preliminary inquiries. I could
+discover no bureau of information and no official authorized to
+instruct the public, but in this lotus-eating land what is nobody's
+business is everybody's business. There could not be a better-humored
+people. The keeper of the bookstand abandoned his counter, his
+would-be customers lighting cigarettes and leaning up against trucks
+and stacks of luggage to wait for his return, and escorted me the
+length of the station to find a big yellow poster, which gave the
+special time-table for Corpus Thursday. The poster was so high upon
+the wall that our combined efforts could not make it out; whereupon a
+nimble little porter dropped the trunk he was carrying, and climbed on
+top of it for a better view. In that commanding position he could see
+clearly enough, but just when my hopes were at the brightest, he
+regretfully explained that he had never learned to read. As he
+clambered down the proprietor of the trunk, who had been looking on
+with as much serenity as if trains never went and starting bells never
+rang, mounted in turn. This gentleman, all smiles and bows and tobacco
+smoke, read off the desired items, which the keeper of the bookstand
+copied for me in a leisurely, conversational manner, with a pencil
+lent by one bystander on a card donated by another.
+
+There is really something to be said for the Spanish way of doing
+business. It takes time, but if time is filled with human kindliness
+and social courtesies, why not? What is time for? Whenever I observed
+that I was the only person in a hurry on a Madrid street, I revised my
+opinion as to the importance of my errand.
+
+As I entered the station again on the first of June at the penitential
+hour of quarter past six in the morning, I was reflecting complacently
+on my sagacity as a traveller. Had I not bethought me that, even in
+the ecclesiastical centre of Spain and on this solemn festival, there
+might be peril for a stranger's purse? What financial acumen I had
+shown in calculating that, since my round-trip ticket to Toledo before
+had cost three dollars, second class, I could probably go first class
+on this excursion for the same sum, while two dollars more would be
+ample allowance for balcony hire and extras! And yet how prudent in me
+to have tucked away a reserve fund in a secret pocket inaccessible
+even to myself! But why was the station so jammed and crammed with
+broad-hatted Spaniards? And what was the meaning of that long line of
+roughs, stretching far out from the third-class ticket office?
+Bull-fight explained it all. Even reverend Toledo must keep the Corpus
+holy by the public slaughter of six choice bulls and as many hapless
+horses as their blind rage might rend. Worse than the pagan altars
+that reeked with the blood of beasts, Spain's Christian festivals
+demand torture in addition to butchery.
+
+There were no first-class carriages, it appeared, upon the Corpus
+train, and my round-trip ticket, second class, cost only a dollar,
+leaving me with an embarrassment of riches. Pursing the slip of
+pasteboard which, to my disgust, was stamped in vermilion letters
+_Corrida de Toros_, I sped me to the train, where every seat appeared
+to be taken, although it lacked twenty minutes of the advertised time
+for departure; but a bald-headed philanthropist called out from a
+carriage window that they still had room for one. Gratefully climbing
+up, I found myself in the society of a family party, off for Toledo to
+celebrate the saint-day of their hazel-eyed eight-year-old by that
+treat of treats, a child's first bull-fight. When they learned that I
+was tamely proposing to keep Corpus Christi by seeing the procession
+and not by "assisting at the function of bulls," their faces clouded;
+but they decided to make allowance for my foreign idiosyncrasies.
+
+The train, besieged by a multitude of ticket-holders for whom there
+were no places, was nearly an hour late in getting off. The ladies
+dozed and chattered; the gentlemen smoked and dozed; little Hazel-eyes
+constantly drew pictures of bulls with a wet finger on the window
+glass. Reminded again by my handbag literature that Toledo is a nest
+of thieves, I would gladly have put away my extra money, but there was
+never a moment when all the gentlemen were asleep at once.
+
+It was after ten when we reached our destination, the boy wild with
+rapture because we had actually seen a pasture of grazing bulls. A
+swarm of noisy, scrambling, savage-looking humanity hailed the arrival
+of the train, and I had hardly made my way even to the platform before
+I felt an ominous twitch at my pocket. The light-fingered art must
+have degenerated in Toledo since the day of that clever cutpurse of
+the "Exemplary Tales." Turning sharply, I confronted a group of my
+fellow-worshippers, who, shawled and sashed and daggered, looked as
+if they had been expressly gotten up for stage bandits. From the
+shaggy pates, topped by gaudy, twisted handkerchiefs--a headdress not
+so strange in a city whose stone walls looked for centuries on Moorish
+turbans--to the bright-edged, stealthy hemp sandals, these were
+pickpockets to rejoice a kodak. Their black eyes twinkled at me with
+wicked triumph, while it flashed across my mind that my old hero, the
+Cid, was probably much of their aspect, and certainly gained his
+living in very similar ways. There were a full score of these
+picturesque plunderers, and not a person of the nineteenth century in
+sight. Since there was nothing to do, I did it, and giving them a
+parting glance of moral disapproval, to which several of the sauciest
+responded by blithely touching their forelocks, I pursued my pilgrim
+course, purged of vainglory. At all events, I was delivered from
+temptation as to a questionable _peseta_ in my purse--my pretty Paris
+purse!--and I should not be obliged to travel again on that odious
+bull-fight ticket.
+
+We were having "fool weather," blowing now hot, now cold, but as at
+this moment the air was cool, and every possible vehicle seemed
+packed, thatched, fringed with clinging passengers, I decided, not
+seeking further reasons, to walk up to the town. And what a town it
+is! Who could remember dollars? So far from being decently depressed,
+I was almost glad to have lost something in this colossal monument of
+losses. It seemed to make connection.
+
+Between deep, rocky, precipitous banks, strongly flows the golden
+"king of rivers, the venerable Tajo," almost encircling the granite
+pedestal of the city and spanned by ancient bridges of massy stone,
+with battlemented, Virgin-niched, fierce old gates. And above, upon
+its rugged height, crumbling hourly into the gritty dust that stings
+the eye and scrapes beneath the foot, lies in swirls on floor and
+pavement, blows on every breeze and sifts through hair and clothing,
+is the proud, sullen, forsaken fortress of "imperial Toledo." Still it
+is a vision of turrets, domes, and spires, fretwork, buttresses,
+façades, but all so desolate, so dreary, isolated in that parched
+landscape as it is isolated in the living world, that one approaches
+with strangely blended feelings of awe, repugnance, and delight.
+
+On we go over the Bridge of Alcántara, wrought æons since by a gang of
+angry Titans--the guidebooks erroneously attribute it to the Moors and
+Alfonso the Learned--with a shuddering glance out toward the ruins of
+feudal castles, here a battlemented keep set with mighty towers, there
+a great, squat, frowning mass of stone, the very sight of which might
+have crushed a prisoner's heart. Up, straight up, into the grim, gray,
+labyrinthine city, whose zigzag streets, often narrowing until two
+laden donkeys, meeting, cannot pass, so twist and turn that it is
+impossible on entering one to guess at what point of the compass we
+will come out. These crooked ways, paved with "agony stones," are
+lined with tall, dark, inhospitable house fronts, whose few windows
+are heavily grated, and whose huge doors, bristling with iron bosses,
+are furnished with fantastic knockers and a whole arsenal of bolts and
+chains.
+
+  [Illustration: THE KING OF THE GYPSIES]
+
+Gloomy as these ponderous structures are, every step discloses a
+novelty of beauty,--a chiselled angel, poised for flight, chased
+escutcheons, bas-reliefs, toothed arches, medallions, weather-eaten
+groups of saints and apostles gossiping in their scalloped niches
+about the degeneracy of the times. The Moors, whose architecture, says
+Becquer, seems the dream of a Moslem warrior sleeping after battle in
+the shadow of a palm, have left their mark throughout Toledo in the
+airy elegance of the traceries magically copied from cobwebs and the
+Milky Way. That tragic race, the Jews, have stamped on the walls of
+long-desecrated synagogues their own mysterious emblems. And Goths and
+Christian knights have wrought their very likenesses into the stern,
+helmeted heads that peer out from the capitals of marvellous columns
+amid the stone grapes and pomegranates most fit for their heroic
+nourishment. But all is in decay. Here stands a broken-sceptred statue
+turning its royal back on a ragged vender of toasted _garbanzos_. Even
+the image of Wamba has lost its royal nose.
+
+You may traverse whispering cloisters heaped with fallen crosses, with
+truant tombstones, and severed heads and limbs of august prophets.
+Cast aside in dusky vaults lie broken shafts of rose-tinted marbles
+and fragments of rare carving in whose hollows the birds of the air
+once built their nests. Through the tangle of flowers and shrubbery
+that chokes the patios gleam the rims of alabaster urns and basins of
+jasper fountains. Such radiant wings and faces as still flash out from
+frieze and arch and column, such laughing looks, fresh with a dewy
+brightness, as if youth and springtime were enchanted in the stone!
+And what supreme grace and truth of artistry in all this bewildering
+detail! On some far-off day of the golden age, when ivory and agate
+were as wax, when cedar and larch wood yielded like their own soft
+leaves, the magician must have pressed upon them the olive leaf, the
+acacia spray, the baby's foot, that have left these perfect traces.
+And how did mortal hand ever achieve the intricate, curling,
+unfolding, blossoming marvel of those capitals? And who save kings,
+Wambas and Rodericks, Sanchos, Alfonsos, and Fernandos, should mount
+these magnificent stairways? And what have those staring stone faces
+above that antique doorway looked upon to turn them haggard with
+horror? City of ghosts! The flesh begins to creep. But here, happily,
+we are arrived in the _Plaza de Zocodovér_, where Lazarillo de Tormes
+used to display his talents as town crier, and in this long-memoried
+market-place, with its arcaded sides and trampled green, may pause to
+take our bearings.
+
+Evidently the procession is to pass here, for the balconies, still
+displaying the yellow fronds of Palm Sunday, are hung with all manner
+of draperies--clear blue, orange with silver fringes, red with violet
+bars, white with saffron scallops. Freed from sordid cares about my
+pocket, I give myself for a little to the spell of that strange scene.
+Beyond rise the rich-hued towers of the Alcázar, on the site where
+Romans, Visigoths, Arabs, the Cid, and an illustrious line of Spanish
+monarchs have fortified themselves in turn; but Time at last is
+conqueror, and one visits the dismantled castle only to forget all
+about it in the grandeur of the view. From the east side of the
+_Zocodovér_ soars the arch on whose summit used to stand the
+_Santisimo Cristo del Sangre_, before whom the Corpus train did
+reverence. And here in the centre blazed that momentous bonfire which
+was to settle the strife between the old Toledan liturgy and the new
+ritual of Rome; but the impartial elements honored both the Prayer
+Books placed upon the fagots, the wind wafting to a place of safety
+the Roman breviary, while the flames drew back from the other, with
+the result that the primitive rite is still preserved in an especial
+chapel of the cathedral.
+
+A glorious _plaza_, famed by Cervantes, loved by Lope de Vega, but now
+how dim and shabby! On the house-fronts once so gayly colored, the
+greens have faded to yellows, the reds to pinks, and the pinks to
+browns. The awning spread along the route of the procession is fairly
+checkered with a miscellany of patches. I pass the compliments of the
+day with a smiling peasant woman, whose husband, a striking
+color-scheme in maroon blanket, azure trousers, russet stockings, and
+soiled gray sandals, offers me his seat on the stone bench beside her.
+But I am bound on my errand, and they bid me "Go with God." I select a
+trusty face in a shop doorway and ask if I can rent standing room in
+the balcony above. Mine honest friend puts his price a trifle high to
+give him a margin for the expected bargaining, but I scorn to haggle
+on a day when I am short of money, and merely stipulate, with true
+Spanish propriety, that no gentlemen shall be admitted. This makes an
+excellent impression on the proprietor, who shows me up a winding
+stair with almost oppressive politeness. A little company of ladies,
+with lace mantillas drooping from their graceful heads, welcome me
+with that courteous cordiality which imparts to the slightest
+intercourse with the Spanish people (barring pickpockets) a flavor of
+fine pleasure. Because I am the last arrival and have the least claim,
+they insist on giving me the best place on the best balcony and are
+untiring in their explanations of all there is to be seen.
+
+The procession is already passing--civil guards, buglers, drummers,
+flower wreaths borne aloft, crosses of silver and crosses of gold,
+silken standards wrought with cunning embroideries. But now there come
+a sudden darkness, a gust of wind, and dash of rain. The ranks of
+_cofradias_ try in vain to keep their candles burning, the pupils from
+the colleges of the friars, with shining medals hung by green cords
+about their necks, peep roguishly back at the purple-stoled dignitary
+in a white wig, over whom an anxious friend from the street is trying
+to hold an umbrella. The Jesuit _seminaristas_ bear themselves more
+decorously, the tonsures gleaming like silver coins on their young
+heads. The canons lift their red robes from the wet, and even bishops
+make some furtive efforts to protect their gold-threaded chasubles.
+Meanwhile the people, that spectral throng of witches, serfs, feudal
+retainers, and left-overs from the Arabian Nights, press closer and
+closer, audaciously wrapping themselves from the rain in the rich old
+tapestries of France and Flanders, which have been hung along both
+sides of the route from a queer framework of emerald-bright poles and
+bars. The dark, wild, superstitious faces, massed and huddled
+together, peer out more uncannywise than ever from under these
+precious stuffs which brisk soldiers, with green feather brushes in
+their caps, as if to enable them to dust themselves off at short
+notice, are already taking down.
+
+All the church bells of the city are chiming solemnly, and the
+splendid _custodia_, "the most beautiful piece of plate in the world,"
+a treasure of filigree gold and jewels, enshrining the Host, draws
+near. It is preceded by a bevy of lovely children, not dressed, as at
+Granada, to represent angels, but as knights of chivalry. Their dainty
+suits of red and blue, slashed and puffed and trimmed with lace, flash
+through the silvery mist of rain. Motherly voices from the balconies
+call to them to carry their creamy caps upside down to shield the
+clustered plumes. Their little white sandals and gaiters splash
+merrily through the mud.
+
+A flamingo gleam across the slanting rain announces Cardinal Sancha,
+behind whom acolytes uplift a thronelike chair of crimson velvet and
+gold. Then follow ranks of taper-bearing soldiers, and my friends in
+the balcony call proudly down to different officers, a son, a husband,
+a blushing _novio_, whom they present to me then and there. The
+officers bow up and I bow down, while at this very moment comes that
+tinkling of silver bells which would, I had supposed, strike all
+Catholic Spaniards to their knees. It is perhaps too much to expect
+the people below to kneel in the puddles, but the vivacious chatter in
+the balconies never ceases, and the ladies beside me do not even cross
+themselves.
+
+The parade proceeds, a gorgeous group in wine-colored costume carrying
+great silver maces before the civic representation. The governor of
+the province is pointed out to me as a count of high degree, but in
+the instant when my awed glance falls upon him he gives a monstrous
+gape unbecoming even to nobility. The last of the spruce cadets, who
+close the line, have hardly passed when the thrifty housewife
+beseeches our aid in taking in out of the rain her scarlet balcony
+hanging, which proves to be the canopy of her best bed. But the sun is
+shining forth again when I return to the street to follow the
+procession into the cathedral.
+
+Already this gleam of fair weather has filled the _Calle de Comercio_
+with festive señoritas, arrayed in white mantillas and Manila shawls
+in honor of the bull-fight. Shops have been promptly opened for a
+holiday sale of the Toledo specialties--arabesqued swords and daggers,
+every variety of Damascened wares, and marchpane in form of mimic
+hams, fish, and serpents. The Toledo steel was famous in Shakespeare's
+day, even in the mouths of rustic dandies, whose geographical
+education had been neglected. When the clever rogue, Brainworm, in one
+of Jonson's comedies, would sell Stephen, the "country gull," a cheap
+rapier, he urges, "'Tis a most pure Toledo," and Stephen replies
+according to his folly, "I had rather it were a Spaniard." But onward
+is the glorious church, with its symmetric tower, whose spire wears a
+threefold crown of thorns. The exterior walls are hung, on this one
+day of the year, with wondrous tapestries that Queen Isabella knew. An
+army of beggars obstructs the crowd, which presses in, wave upon wave,
+through the deep, rich portals in whose ornamentation whole lifetimes
+have carved themselves away.
+
+Within this sublime temple, unsurpassed in Gothic art, where every
+pavement slab is worn by knees more than by footsteps, where every
+starry window has thrown its jewel lights on generations of believers,
+one would almost choose to dwell forever. One looks half enviously at
+recumbent alabaster bishops and kneeling marble knights, even at dim
+grotesques, who have rested in the heart of that grave beauty, in that
+atmosphere of prayer and chant, so long. Let these stone figures troop
+out into the troubled streets and toil awhile, and give the rest of us
+a chance to dream. But the multitude, which has knelt devoutly while
+_Su Majestad_ was being borne into the _Capilla Mayor_, comes pouring
+down the nave to salute the stone on which--ah me!--on which the
+Virgin set her blessed foot December 18, 666, when she alighted in
+Toledo cathedral to present the champion of the Immaculate Conception,
+St. Ildefonso, with a chasuble of celestial tissue. The gilded,
+turreted shrine containing that consecrated block towers almost to the
+height of the nave. A grating guards it from the devout, who can only
+touch it with their finger tips, which then they kiss. Hundreds, with
+reverend looks, stand waiting their turn--children, peasants,
+bull-fighters, decorated officers, refined ladies, men of cultured
+faces. The sound of kissing comes thick and fast. Heresy begins to
+beat in my blood.
+
+Not all that heavenward reach of columns and arches, not that
+multitudinous charm of art, can rid the imagination of a granite
+weight. I escape for a while to the purer church without, with its
+window-gold of sunshine and lapis-lazuli roof. When the mighty magnet
+draws me back again, those majestic aisles are empty, save for a tired
+sacristan or two, and the silence is broken only by a monotone of
+alternate chanting, from where, in the _Capilla Mayor_, two priests
+keep watch with _El Señor_.
+
+"He will be here all the afternoon," says the sacristan, "and nothing
+can be shown; but if you will come back to-morrow I will arrange for
+you to see even Our Lady's robes and gems."
+
+Come back! I felt myself graying to a shadow already. Of course I
+longed to see again that marvellous woodwork of the choir stalls, with
+all the conquest of Granada carved amid columns of jasper and under
+alabaster canopies, but I was smothered in a multitude of ghosts. They
+crowded from every side,--nuns, monks, soldiers, tyrants, magnificent
+archbishops, the martyred Leocadia, passionate Roderick, weeping
+Florinda, grim Count Julian, "my Cid," Pedro the Cruel, those five
+thousand Christian nobles and burghers of Toledo, slain, one by one,
+at the treacherous feast of Abderrahman, those hordes of flaming Jews
+writhing amid the Inquisition fagots. I had kept my Corpus. I had seen
+the greatest of all _autos sacramentales_, Calderon's masterpiece,
+"Life is a Dream."
+
+"On a single one of the Virgin's gold-wrought mantles," coaxed the
+sacristan, "are eighty-five thousand large pearls and as many
+sapphires, amethysts, and diamonds. I will arrange for you to see
+everything, when Our Lord is gone away."
+
+But no. I am a little particular about treasures. Since Toledo has
+lost the emerald table of King Solomon and that wondrous copy of the
+Psalms written upon gold leaf in a fluid made of melted rubies, I will
+not trouble the seven canons to unlock the seven doors of the
+cathedral sacristy. Let the Madonna enjoy her wealth alone. I have
+_pesetas_ enough for my ticket to Madrid.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+THE TERCENTENARY OF VELÁZQUEZ
+
+     "It is a sombre and a weeping sky
+         That lowers above thee now, unhappy Spain;
+         Thy 'scutcheon proud is dashed with dimming rain;
+     Uncertain is thy path and deep thy sigh.
+     All that is mortal passes; glories die;
+         This hour thy destiny allots thee pain;
+         But for the worker of thy woes remain
+     Those retributions slowly forged on high.
+
+     "Put thou thy hope in God; what once thou wert
+         Thou yet shalt be by labor of thy sons
+           Patient and true, with purpose to atone;
+         And though the laurels of the loud-voiced guns
+     Are not with us to-day, this balms our hurt--
+           Cervantes and Velázquez are our own."
+                           --DUKE OF RIVAS: _For the Tercentenary_.
+
+
+The celebration, as planned, was comparatively simple, but enthusiasm
+grew with what it fed upon. The Knights of Santiago held the first
+place upon the programme, for into that high and exclusive order the
+artist had won entry by special grace of Philip IV. Even Spain has
+been affected by the modern movement for the destruction of
+traditions, and certain erudite meddlers, who have been delving in the
+State archives, declare that there is no truth in the following
+story, which, nevertheless, everybody has to tell.
+
+The legend runs that Velázquez became a knight of St. James by a royal
+compliment to the painter of _Las Meninas_. This picture, which seems
+no picture, but life itself, eternizes a single instant of time in the
+palace of Philip IV, that one instant before the fingers of the little
+Infanta have curved about the cup presented by her kneeling maid,
+before the great, tawny, half-awakened hound has decided to growl
+remonstrance under the teasing foot of the dwarf, before the reflected
+faces of king and queen have glided from the mirror, that fleeting
+instant while yet the courtier, passing down the gallery into the
+garden, turns on the threshold for a farewell smile, while yet the
+green velvet sleeve of the second dwarf, ugliest of all pet monsters,
+brushes the fair silken skirts of the daintiest of ladies-in-waiting,
+while yet the artist, so much more royal than royalty, flashes his
+dark-eyed glance upon the charming group.
+
+But if Velázquez looks prouder than a king, Philip proved himself here
+no uninspired painter. Asked if he found the work complete, the
+monarch shook his head, and, catching up the brush, marked the red
+cross of St. James on the pictured breast of the artist. So says the
+old wives' tale. At all events, in this way or another, the honor was
+conferred, with the result that on the three hundredth birthday of
+Velázquez, June 6, 1899, dukes and counts and marquises flocked to the
+Church of _Las Señoras Comendadoras_, where the antique Gregorian mass
+was chanted for the repose of their comrade's soul.
+
+By the latest theology, the "Master of all Good Workmen" would not
+have waited for this illustrious requiem before admitting the painter
+to "an æon or two" of rest, but the Knights of Santiago have not yet
+accepted Kipling as their Pope.
+
+On the afternoon of the same day the _Sala de Velázquez_ was
+inaugurated in the _Museo del Prado_, taking, with additions, the room
+formerly known as the _Sala de la Reina Isabel_, long the _Salon
+Carré_ of Madrid, where Raphaels, Titians, Del Sartos, Dürers, Van
+Dycks, Correggios, and Rembrandts kept the Spanish Masters company.
+Portico and halls were adorned in honor of the occasion; the bust of
+Velázquez, embowered in laurels, myrtles, and roses, was placed midway
+in the Long Gallery, fronting the door of his own demesne; but the
+crown of the _fiesta_ consisted in the new and far superior
+arrangement of his pictures. The royal family and chief nobility, the
+Ministers of Government, the Diplomatic Corps, and delegations of
+foreign artists made a brilliant gathering. The address, pronounced by
+an eminent critic, reviewed what are known as the three styles of
+Velázquez. Never was art lecture more fortunate, for this _Museo_,
+holding as it does more than half the extant works of the great
+realist, with nearly all his masterpieces, enabled the speaker to
+illustrate every point from the original paintings. A rain of
+aristocratic poems followed, for a Spaniard is a lyrist born, and
+turns from prose to verse as easily as he changes his cuffs. As
+Monipodio says, in one of Cervantes' "Exemplary Tales": "A man has but
+to roll up his shirt-sleeves, set well to work, and he may turn off a
+couple of thousand verses in the snapping of a pair of scissors."
+These Dukes of Parnassus and Counts of Helicon did homage to the
+painter in graceful stanzas, not without many an allusion to Spain's
+troubled present. If only, as one sonneteer suggested, the soldiers
+of _Las Lanzas_ had marched out from their great gilt frame and gone
+against the foe! A programme of old-time music was rendered, and
+therewith the _Sala de Velázquez_ was declared open.
+
+To this, as to all galleries and monuments under State control, the
+public was invited free of charge for the week to come. The response
+was appreciative, gentility, soldiery, ragamuffins, bevies of
+schoolgirls with notebooks, and families of foreigners with opera
+glasses grouping themselves in picturesque variety, day after day,
+before the art treasures of Madrid, while beggars sat in joyful squads
+on the steps of the museums, collecting the fees which the doorkeepers
+refused.
+
+During these seven days, artistic and social festivals in honor of
+Velázquez abounded, not only in Madrid, but throughout Spain. Palma
+must needs get up, with photographs and the like, a Velázquez
+exposition, and Seville, insisting on her mother rights, must arrange
+a belated funeral, with mass and sermon and a tomb of laurels and
+flowers, surmounted by brushes, palette, and the cloak and helmet of
+the Order of Santiago. In the capital the _Circulo de Bellas Artes_
+sumptuously breakfasted the artists from abroad. The dainties were
+spiced with speeches, guitars, ballet, gypsy songs and dances,
+congratulatory telegrams, and a letter posted from Parnassus by Don
+Diego himself. Two valuable new books on Velázquez suddenly appeared
+in the shop windows, and such periodicals as _La Ilustración_, _Blanco
+y Negro_, _La Vida Literaria_, and _El Nuevo Mundo_ vied with one
+another in illustrated numbers, while even the one-cent dailies came
+out with specials devoted to Velázquez biography and criticism. The
+Academy of San Fernando rendered a musical programme of Velázquez
+date, the Queen Regent issued five hundred invitations to an
+orchestral concert in the Royal Palace, and there was talk, which
+failed to fructify, of a grand masquerade ball, where the costumes
+should be copied from the Velázquez paintings and the dances should be
+those stepped by the court of Philip IV.
+
+The closing ceremony of the week was the unveiling of the new statue
+of Velázquez. Paris owes to Fremiot an equestrian statue of the
+painter, who, like Shakespeare in his Paris statue, is made to look
+very like a Frenchman, but the horse is of the most spirited Spanish
+type. A younger Velázquez may be seen in Seville, at home among the
+orange trees, and the _Palacio de la Biblioteca y Museos Nacionales_
+in Madrid shows a statue from the hand of Garcia. Still another, an
+arrogant, striding figure, was standing in the studio of Benlliure,
+ready for its journey to the Paris exposition. The tercentenary
+statue, by Marinas, is also true to that haughty look of Velázquez. It
+represents him seated, brush and palette in hand, the winds lifting
+from his ears those long, clustering falls of hair, as if to let him
+hear the praises of posterity. Little he cares for praises! That
+artist's look sees nothing but his task.
+
+The unveiling took place late on Wednesday afternoon, in front of the
+_Museo del Prado_, where the statue stands. A turquoise sky and a
+light breeze put all the world in happy humor. The long façade of the
+_Museo_ was hung with beautiful tapestries. Handsome medallions bore
+the names of painters associated in one way or another with
+Velázquez--Herrera el Viejo, his first master in Seville; Pacheco, his
+second Sevillian teacher and his father-in-law; Luis Tristan of
+Toledo, for whom he had an enthusiastic admiration; El Greco, that
+startling mannerist, whose penetrating portraiture of faces, even
+whose extraordinary effects in coloring were not without influence on
+the younger man; Zurbarán, his almost exact contemporary, enamored no
+less than Velázquez himself of the new realism emanating from the
+great and terrible Ribera; Murillo, whose developing genius the
+favored Court painter, too high-hearted for envy, protected and
+encouraged, and Alonzo Cano, the impetuous artist of Granada, to whom,
+too, Velázquez was friend and benefactor.
+
+Spanish colors and escutcheons were everywhere. In decorated tribunes
+sat the royal family and the choicest of Madrid society, with the
+members of the _Circulo de Bellas Artes_, who were the hosts of the
+day, and with distinguished guests from the provinces and abroad.
+Romero Robledo, as President of the Society of Fine Arts, welcomed the
+Queen, closing his brief address with the following words: "Never,
+señora, will your exalted sentiments be able to blend with those of
+the Spanish people in nobler hour than this, commemorating him who is
+forever a living national glory and who receives enthusiastic
+testimony of admiration from all the civilized world." Their Majesties
+drew upon the cords, the two silken banners parted, and the statue was
+revealed to the applauding multitude. While the royal group
+congratulated the sculptor, the ambassadors of Austria and Germany
+laid magnificent wreaths, fashioned with a due regard to the colors of
+their respective nations, at the feet of Velázquez. The eminent French
+artists, Carolus Duran and Jean Paul Laurens, bore a crown from France
+and delighted the audience by declaring that "the painter of the
+Spanish king was himself the king of painters." Nothing since the war
+had gladdened Spain more than the presence and praises of these two
+famous Parisians; the reverence of Madrid for Paris is profound. The
+tributes of Rome and London excited far less enthusiasm. Still more
+wreaths, and more and more, were deposited by a procession of
+delegates from the art societies of all Spain, headed by Seville, the
+bands playing merrily meanwhile, until that stately form of bronze
+seemed to rise from out a hill of laurels, ribbons, and flowers.
+
+This is the first Velázquez celebration which has had universal
+recognition. The painter was hardly known to Europe at large until the
+day of Fernando VII, who was induced by his art-loving wife, Isabel of
+Braganza, to send the pictures from the royal palaces, all those
+accumulated treasures of the Austrian monarchs, to the empty building,
+designed for a natural history museum, in the _Prado_. This long, low
+edifice is now one of the most glorious shrines of art in the world.
+It is a collection of masterpieces, showing the splendors that are
+rather than the processes by which they came to be. There is only one
+Fra Angelico, but there are ten Raphaels and four times as many
+Titians. In the Netherlands, no less than in Italy, the Spanish sway
+gathered rich spoils. There are a score of Van Dycks, threescore of
+those precious little canvases by Teniers, while as for Rubens, he
+blazes in some sixty-four Christian saints, heathen goddesses, and
+human sinners, all with a strong family resemblance. But although the
+Italian and Flemish schools are so magnificently represented, the
+wealth of Spanish painting is what overwhelms the visitor. Here are
+four rooms filled with the works of Goya--whose bones, by the way,
+arrived in Madrid from France for final sepulture a few days before
+the celebration. Little more heed was paid to this advent than to that
+of the United States ambassador, who, it may be noted, was not
+presented to the Queen until the Velázquez jubilee was well over. But
+as for Goya, this unnoised entry was appropriate enough, for he, whom
+De Amicis has called "the last flame-colored flash of Spanish genius,"
+used, during his later life, to make the long journey from Bordeaux to
+Madrid every week for no other purpose than to gloat upon the Sunday
+bull-fight, coming and going without speech or handshake, only a pair
+of fierce, bloodthirsty eyes. This fiery Aragonese painted
+bull-fights, battles, executions, and Inquisition tortures with blacks
+that make one shudder and reds that make one sick. He painted the
+brutal side of pleasure as well as of pain, filling broad canvases
+with dancing, feasting peasants--canvases that smell of wine and
+garlic, and all but send out a roar of drunken song and laughter.
+
+  [Illustration: GYPSY TENANTS OF AN ARAB PALACE]
+
+Goya lived in the day of Charles IV, whose court painter he was, and
+against whom this natural caricaturist must have borne a special
+grudge, so sarcastic are his portraits of the royal family; but his
+genius is allied to that of Velázquez's powerful contemporary, Ribera.
+The _Museo del Prado_ has abundant material for a Ribera _sala_, since
+it possesses no less than fifty-eight of his works, but the official
+put in charge of it would probably go mad. The paintings are mercifully
+scattered and, well for such of us as may be disposed to flight, can
+be recognized from afar by their dusks and pallors--ascetic faces
+gleaming out from sable backgrounds, wasted limbs of naked saints
+tracing livid lines in the gloom of caverns, and, against an
+atmosphere dark as the frown of God, the ghastly flesh of tortured
+martyrs, and dead Christs drooping stiffly to the linen winding-sheet.
+One is appalled at the entrance of the Long Gallery by the two vast,
+confronting canvases of Prometheus, less a Titan than a convulsion of
+Titanic agony, and of Ixion, crushed not only beneath the wheel, but
+under that cold, tremendous blackness of hell made actual. Far down
+one side of the hall they stretch, those paintings upon paintings of
+torment, emaciation, the half-crazed visionary, and the revolting
+corpse. But there is no escape from Ribera, he who
+
+                                        "tainted
+     His brush with all the blood of all the sainted."
+
+Turning back to the Spanish cabinets that open from the vestibule we
+come upon a piteous San Sebastian, the blanched young form bound fast
+and already nailed by arrows to the ebon-hued trunk of a leafless
+tree. Descending the staircase to the _Sala de Alfonso XII_, we must
+pass an attenuated old anchoress, whose sunken face and praying hands
+have the very tint of the skulls that form the only ornaments, almost
+the only furniture, of her dreary cave. We may as well brave the
+terrors of this first half of the Long Gallery, where El Greco's livid
+greens will at least divert attention, and where, opposite the
+collection of Riberas, wait the gracious Murillos to comfort and
+uplift.
+
+Yet Ribera, ruffian though he was, is not solely and exclusively a
+nightmare artist. He could give sweetest and most tranquil color when
+he chose, as his "Jacob's Dream" here testifies, with the dim gold of
+its angel-peopled ladder; and for all the spirit of bigotry that
+clouds his work, there is Catholic fervor in these pictures and
+masterly truthfulness up to the point where the senses need the
+interpretation of the soul. There is more than anatomy, too, in these
+starved old saints; there is the dread of judgment. Ribera depicts
+supernatural terror, where Goya shows the animal shock of death.
+
+Another Spanish phase appears in Zurbarán. In his most effective work
+we have not Goya's blood color, nor Ribera's blacks, nor the celestial
+violets of Juan de Joanes, but the grays of the monastic renunciation,
+the twilight that is as far from rapture as from anguish. His gowned,
+cowled, corded figures pass before the eye in the pale tints of the
+cloister. The shadow of cathedral walls is over them. The _Prado_ has
+been strangely indifferent to Zurbarán, who is far more fully
+represented in the galleries of Andalusia; but it has in its baker's
+dozen two important and characteristic works, both visions of San
+Pedro Nolasco. In one the entranced saint, whose figure might be
+carved in stone,--stone on which ray from stained-glass window never
+fell,--gazes upon an angel, whose vesture, crossed by a dark green
+scarf, is flushed with the faintest rose. In the second the sombre
+cell is illuminated for an instant by the apparition of St. Peter the
+Apostle, head downward, as in his crucifixion, his naked form dazzling
+against a vague redness of light like a memory of pain.
+
+One glance at a wall aglow with Madonna blues reminds us that Spanish
+sacred art does not culminate in Ribera nor in Zurbarán. The Christian
+faith has had almost as pure, poetic, and spiritual an utterance in
+the land of the Inquisition as in Italy itself. This is not Murillo's
+hour; it is the triumph of Velázquez and the realists that Spain is
+celebrating to-day; but none the less it is a joy of joys to walk by
+the Murillos on the way to the laurelled bust and the crowded _sala_.
+These are the pictures that are rather in heaven than earth. Where
+Mary, divine in her virginal loveliness, is not upborne among the
+golden clouds, the radiant-plumed angel kneels on her cottage floor
+and the wings of the descending dove beat whiteness through the air.
+Here is realism and more. The Mater Dolorosa has those luminous
+sea-blue eyes of Andalusia, but they tell of holy tears. The Crucified
+is no mere sufferer, but the suffering Son of God, and the crown of
+thorns, while dripping blood, haloes his brows with the redemption of
+the world.
+
+The genius of Velázquez dwelt not above the earth, but upon it, in the
+heart of its most brilliant life. He was no dreamer of dreams; he
+"painted the thing as he saw it," and with what sure eyes he saw, and
+with what a firm and glowing brush he painted! His _sala_ surrounds us
+at once with an atmosphere of brightness, beauty, elegance, variety,
+delight. His work is so superb, so supreme, that, like perfect
+manners, it puts even the humblest of us at our ease. We are not
+artists, but we seem to understand Velázquez.
+
+Of course we don't. No knight of the palette would admit it for an
+instant. What can the rabble know of the mysterious compoundings and
+touchings from which sprang these splendors of color that outshine the
+centuries? Young men with streaming hair are continually escorting
+awed-looking señoras about the room, discoursing with dramatic
+vehemence on the "periods" of the Master's work. As a youth at
+Seville, they explain, Velázquez had of necessity taken religious
+subjects, for the Church was the chief patron of art in Andalusia;
+but his natural bent even then displayed itself in tavern studies and
+sketches of popular types, as the "Water-seller of Seville" and the
+"Old Woman Frying Eggs." Of his early religious pieces the
+archbishop's palace of Seville keeps "San Ildefonso Receiving the
+Chasuble from the Hands of the Virgin," and the National Gallery of
+London secured "Christ in the House of Martha," but "The Adoration of
+the Kings" hangs here at our right as we enter the Velázquez _sala_. A
+little stiff, say these accomplished critics, with a suggestion of the
+dry manner of his master, Pacheco, but bear you in mind that this is
+the production of a youth of twenty. It is obvious, too, that
+Andalusians, not celestial visions, served him as models.
+
+A longing to see the Tintorets and Titians, those starry treasures of
+the dark Escorial, drew him to Madrid at twenty-three. Here he was
+fortunate in finding friends, who brought his portraits to the notice
+of Philip IV, a dissolute boy ruled by the Count-Duke Olivares. Youth
+inclines to youth. Velázquez was appointed painter to the king at the
+same salary as that paid to the royal barber, and henceforth he had no
+care in life but to paint. And how he painted! His first portraits of
+Philip show a blond young face, with high brow, curled mustache, the
+long Hapsburg chin, and eyes that hint strange secrets. Again and
+again and again Velázquez traced those Austrian features, while the
+years stamped them ever more deeply with lines of pride and sin--a
+tragic face in the end as it was ill-omened in the beginning. But the
+masterpiece of Velázquez's twenties is "The Drunkards," a scene of
+peasant revelry where the young are gloriously tipsy and the old are
+on the point of maudlin tears. Here it is, _Los Borrachos_, farther
+to the right. In looking on it one remembers that a contemporary
+realist, in the Protestant island which has often been so sharp a
+thorn in Spain's side, likewise crowned the achievement of his
+springtime by a group of topers, Prince Hal and Falstaff and their
+immortal crew.
+
+Not the influence of Rubens, who spent nine months in Spain in
+1628-29, painting like the wind, nor a visit to the Holy Land of
+Raphael and Michael Angelo could make Velázquez other than he was.
+This "Vulcan's Forge," which we see here, painted in Italy, is
+mythological only in the title. Back he came at the royal summons, to
+paint more portraits--Philip over and over, on foot, on horseback,
+half length, full length, all lengths; the winsome Infante Baltasar,
+as a toddling baby with his dwarf, as a gallant little soldier,
+hunter, horseman, and in the princely dignity of fourteen, when he had
+but three more years to live; the sad French queen, the king's
+brother, the magnificent Olivares, the sculptor Montañes, counts,
+dukes, buffoons. Within these twenty years Velázquez produced his two
+most famous works of religious tenor--"Christ Bound to the Column," a
+"captain jewel" of the London National Gallery, and that majestic
+"Crucifixion" before which Spaniards in the _Prado_ bare their heads.
+But the crown of this period is _Las Lanzas_, or "The Surrender of
+Breda," which holds the place of honor on the wall fronting the door.
+It is vivid past all praise, and nobler than any battle scene in its
+beauty of generosity. The influence of Italy had told especially on
+Velázquez's backgrounds. The bright, far landscapes opening out beyond
+his portrayed figures, especially those on horseback,--and his horses
+are as lifelike as his dogs,--give to the _sala_ an exhilarating
+effect of free space and wide horizons.
+
+In 1650 he made his second visit to Rome, where he portrayed Pope
+Innocent X. Nine years of glorious work in Spain remained to him.
+Still he painted the king, even at his royal prayers, for which there
+was full need, and the young Austrian queen, who had succeeded the
+dead mother of the dead Baltasar. On that happy left-hand wall of the
+_sala_ shines, in all its vigorous grace, the "Mercury and Argos," but
+if the hundred eyes of Argos are ready to close, their place is
+supplied by the terrible scrutiny of a row of portraits, embarrassing
+the boldest of us out of note-taking. How those pairs of pursuing
+black eyes, sage and keen and mocking, stare the starers out of
+countenance! The series of pet dwarfs is here, old Æsop, and Menippus,
+and the sly buffoon, "Don Juan of Austria." Of these two wonder-works,
+_Las Meninas_, "The Maids of Honor," has a room to itself, and thus
+_Las Hilanderas_, "The Weavers," becomes the central magnet of this
+returning wall. A saint picture and even a coronation of the Virgin
+cannot draw the crowds from before this ultimate triumph of the
+actual--this factory interior, where a group of peasant women fashion
+tapestries, while a broad shaft of sunshine works miracles in color.
+
+And this, too, is Spanish. Cervantes is as true a facet of many-sided
+Spain as Calderon, and Velázquez as Murillo. With all the national
+propensity to emotion and exaggeration, Spaniards are a truth-seeing
+people. The popular _coplas_ are more often satiric than sentimental.
+They like to bite through to the kernel of fact, even when it is
+bitter. Velázquez, with his rich and noble realism, is of legitimate
+descent.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+CHORAL GAMES OF SPANISH CHILDREN
+
+     "Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
+     She turns to favor and to prettiness."
+                                    --SHAKESPEARE: _Hamlet_.
+
+
+On one of my last afternoons in Madrid, I visited again my early
+haunts in the _Buen Retiro_, for a farewell sight of the children
+there at play. After all, it is one of the prettiest things to be seen
+in Spain, these graceful, passionate, dramatic little creatures
+dancing in tireless circles, and piping those songs that every _niña_
+knows, without being able to tell when or where or from whom she
+learned them. Only very small boys, as a rule, join the girls in these
+fairy rings, though occasionally I found a troop of urchins marching
+to a lusty chorus of their own. One, which I heard in Madrid, but
+whose parrots are more suggestive of Seville, runs something like
+this:--
+
+     "In the street they call Toledo
+         Is a famous school for boys,
+     Chundarata, chundarata,
+         Chundarata, chún-chún;
+     Where all we lads are going
+         With a most heroic noise,
+     Chundarata, chundarata,
+         Chundarata, chún-chún.
+
+     "And the parrots on their perches,
+         They mock us as we go,
+     Chundarata, chundarata,
+         Chundarata, chún-chún.
+     'I hate my school,' whines Polly,
+         'For my master beats me so,'
+     Chundarata, chundarata,
+         Chundarata, chún-chún."
+
+Another, which came to me in fragments, is sung in playing soldier.
+
+     "The Catalans are coming,
+       Marching two by two.
+     All who hear the drumming
+       Tiptoe for a view.
+           Ay, ay!
+       Tiptoe for a view.
+     Red and yellow banners,
+         Pennies very few.
+           Ay, ay!
+         Pennies very few.
+
+     "Red and yellow banners!
+       The Moon comes out to see.
+     If moons had better manners,
+       She'd take me on her knee.
+           Ay, ay!
+       Take me on her knee.
+     She peeps through purple shutters,
+       Would I were tall as she!
+           Ay, ay!
+       Would I were tall as she!
+
+     "Soldiers need not learn letters,
+       Nor any schooly thing,
+     But unless they mind their betters,
+       In golden chains they'll swing.
+           Ay, ay!
+       In golden chains they'll swing.
+     Or sit in silver fetters,
+       Presents from the King.
+           Ay, ay!
+       Presents from the King."
+
+This ironic touch, so characteristically Spanish, reappears in many of
+the games, as in _A La Limón_, known throughout the Peninsula and the
+Antilles. I should expect to find it, too, in corners of Mexico, South
+America, the Philippines, wherever the Spanish oppressor has trod and
+the oppressor's children have sported in the sun. The little players,
+ranged in two rows, each row hand in hand, dance the one toward the
+other and retreat, singing responsively. With their last couplet, the
+children of the first line raise their arms, forming arches, and the
+children of the second line, letting go hands, dance under these
+arches as they respond.
+
+     1.   "_A la limón, á la limón!_
+        All broken is our bright fountain.
+
+     2.   "_A la limón, á la limón!_
+        Give orders to have it mended.
+
+     1.   "_A la limón, á la limón!_
+        We haven't a bit of money.
+
+     2.   "_A la limón, á la limón!_
+        But we have money in plenty.
+
+     1.   "_A la limón, á la limón!_
+        What kind of money may yours be?
+
+     2.   "_A la limón, á la limón!_
+        Oh, ours is money of eggshells.
+
+     1.   "_A la limón, á la limón!_
+        An arch for the lords and ladies.
+
+     2.   "_A la limón, á la limón!_
+        Right merrily we pass under."
+
+Another lyric dialogue, whose fun is spent on the lean purses of
+students and the happy-go-lucky life of Andalusia, must have
+originated since the overthrow, in 1892, of the leaning tower of
+Saragossa. The stanzas are sung alternately by two rows of children,
+advancing toward each other and retreating with a dancing step.
+
+     1.  "In Saragossa
+         --Oh, what a pity!--
+         Has fallen the tower,
+         Pride of the city.
+
+     2.  "Fell it by tempest,
+         Fairies or witches,
+         The students will raise it,
+         For students have riches.
+
+     1.  "Call on the students,
+         Call louder and louder!
+         They've only two coppers
+         To buy them a chowder.
+
+     2.  "Chowder of students
+         Is sweeter than honey,
+         But the gay Andalusians
+         Have plenty of money.
+
+     1.  "The gay Andalusians
+         Have fiddle and ballad,
+         But only two coppers
+         To buy them a salad.
+
+     2.  "In Saragossa
+         --Oh, what a pity!--
+         Has fallen the tower,
+         Pride of the city."
+
+Unchildlike innuendoes pervade that curious game of many variants in
+which the priest and abbess play a leading part. Two children are
+chosen for these dignitaries, while the others call out the names of
+such flowers, fruits, or vegetables as each may decide to personate.
+"I'm a cabbage." "I'm a jasmine." "I'm a cherry." Then the little
+sinners kneel in a circle, crying:--
+
+     "Through the door, up the stairs,
+     On the floor, say your prayers!"
+
+and chant some childish gibberish, during which no one must laugh on
+pain of a forfeit. After this, all sing:--
+
+     "The house of the priest it cracked like a cup.
+     Half fell down and half stood up.
+     Sir Priest, Sir Priest, now tell us aright,
+     In whose house did you sleep last night?
+
+     _Priest._ With the rose slept I.
+
+     _Rose._         Fie, O fie!
+               I never saw your tonsured head.
+
+     _Priest._ Then with whom did you make your bed?
+
+     _Rose._         With the Pink.
+
+     _Pink._         I should think!
+               I never saw your petals red.
+
+     _Rose._   Then with whom did you make your bed?
+
+     _Pink._         With the lily.
+
+     _Lily._         Don't be silly!
+               I never heard your fragrant tread.
+
+     _Pink._   Then with whom did you make your bed?
+
+     _Lily._         With the priest.
+
+     _Priest._       Little beast!
+               If I went near you, may I fall dead!
+
+     _Lily._   Then with whom did you make your bed?
+
+     _Priest._       With the abbess, I.
+
+     _Abbess._       Oh, you lie!"
+
+But this seems to be the conclusion of the game.
+
+The most of these choral songs, however, are sweet and innocent,
+concerned with the natural interests of childhood, as this:--
+
+     "The shepherdess rose lightly
+       Larán--larán--larito,
+     The shepherdess rose lightly
+       From off her heather seat--O.
+
+     "Her goats went leaping homeward,
+       Larán--larán--larito,
+     Her goats went leaping homeward
+       On nimble little feet--O.
+
+     "With strong young hands she milked them,
+       Larán--larán--larito,
+     With strong young hands she milked them
+       And made a cheese for treat--O.
+
+     "The kitty watched and wondered,
+       Larán--larán--larito,
+     The kitty crept and pondered
+       If it were good to eat--O.
+
+     "The kitty sprang upon it,
+       Larán--larán--larito,
+     The kitty sprang upon it
+       And made a wreck complete--O.
+
+     "Scat, scat, you naughty kitty!
+       Larán--larán--larito,
+     Scat, scat, you naughty kitty!
+       Are stolen cheeses sweet--O?"
+
+The baby girls have a song of their own, which, as a blending of
+doll-play, gymnastics, music, mathematics, and religion, leaves little
+to be desired.
+
+     "Oh, I have a dolly, and she is dressed in blue,
+     With a fluff of satin on her white silk shoe,
+     And a lace mantilla to make my dolly gay,
+     When I take her dancing this way, this way, this way.
+                              [_Dances Dolly in time to the music._
+
+     "2 and 2 are 4, 4 and 2 are 6,
+     6 and 2 are 8, and 8 is 16,
+     And 8 is 24, and 8 is 32!
+       Thirty-two! Thirty-two!
+     Blesséd souls, I kneel to you.                      [_Kneels._
+
+     "When she goes out walking in her Manila shawl,
+     My Andalusian dolly is quite the queen of all.
+     Gypsies, dukes, and candy-men bow down in a row,
+     While my dolly fans herself so and so and so.
+                                [_Fans Dolly in time to the music._
+
+     "2 and 2 are 4, 4 and 2 are 6,
+     6 and 2 are 8, and 8 is 16,
+     And 8 is 24, and 8 is 24!
+       Twenty-four! Twenty-four!
+     Blesséd souls, I rise once more."
+
+They have a number of bird-games, through which they flit and flutter
+with an airy grace that wings could hardly better. In one, the
+children form a circle, with "the little bird Pinta" in the centre.
+The chorus, dancing lightly around her, sings the first stanza, and
+Pinta, while passing about the circle to make her choice, sings the
+rest, with the suggested action. The child chosen becomes Pinta in
+turn.
+
+     _Chorus._   "The little bird Pinta was poising
+                 On a scented green lemon-tree spray.
+                 She picked the leaf and the blossom,
+                 And chanted a roundelay.
+
+     _Pinta._      "Song in the land!
+                 While April is yet a newcomer,
+                   O mate of my summer,
+                   Give to me a hand now,
+                   Both hands I seek, O!
+                   Take a Spanish kiss, now,
+                   On the rosy cheek, O!"
+
+Equally pretty and simple is the Andalusian play of "Little White
+Pigeons." The children form in two rows, which face each other some
+ten or twelve yards apart. One row sings the first stanza, dancing
+forward and slipping under the "golden arches" made by the lifted arms
+of the second row. The second row sings and dances in turn, passing
+under the "silver arches" to Granada.
+
+     1.  "Little white pigeons
+           Are dreaming of Seville,
+         Sun in the palm tree,
+           Roses and revel.
+         Lift up the arches,
+           Gold as the weather.
+         Little white pigeons
+           Come flying together.
+
+     2.  "Little white pigeons
+           Dream of Granada,
+         Glistening snows on
+           Sierra Nevada.
+         Lift up the arches,
+           Silver as fountains.
+         Little white pigeons
+           Fly to the mountains."
+
+The Spanish form of "Blindman's Buff" begins with "giving the pebble"
+to determine who shall be the Blind Hen. A child shuts in one hand the
+pebble and then presents both little fists to the other children
+passing in file. Each, while all sing the first stanza given below,
+softly touches first one of the hands, then the other, and finally
+slaps the one chosen. If this is empty, she passes on. If it holds the
+pebble, she must take it and be the one to offer the hands. The child
+who finally remains with the pebble in her possession, after all have
+passed, is the Blind Hen. As the game goes on, the children tease the
+Blind Hen, who, of course, is trying to catch them, by singing the
+second stanza given below.
+
+             1
+
+     "Pebble, O pebble!
+     Where may it be?
+     Pebble, O pebble!
+     Come not to me!
+     Tell me, my mother,
+     Which hand to choose.
+     This or the other?
+     That I refuse,
+     This hand I choose."
+
+             2
+
+     "She's lost her thimble,
+     Little Blind Hen.
+     Better be nimble!
+     Try it again!
+     Who'll bring a taper
+     For the Blind Hen?
+     Scamper and caper!
+     Try it again!
+     Try it again!"
+
+Other games as well known to American children as "Blindman's Buff"
+are played by little Spaniards. They understand how to make the
+"hand-chair" and "drop the button," only their button is usually a
+ring. "Hide the Handkerchief" carries with it the familiar cries of
+_hot_ and _cold_, but our "Puss in the Corner" becomes "A Cottage to
+Rent."
+
+     "'Cottage to rent?'
+       'Try the other side,
+     You see that this
+       Is occupied.'"
+
+In religious Seville the dialogue runs:--
+
+     "'A candle here?'
+       'Over there.'
+     'A candle here?'
+       'Otherwhere.'
+
+     "'Candle, a candle!'
+       'Loss on loss.'
+     'Where is light?'
+       'In the Holy Cross.'"
+
+For all these games, common to childhood the world over, have a
+rhyming element in the Peninsula, where, indeed, the ordinary
+intercourse of children often carries verses with it. For instance,
+our youngsters are content with cries of "Tell-tale!" and
+"Indian-giver!" but under similar provocation the fierce little
+nurslings of Catholic Spain will sing:--
+
+       "Tell-tale! Tell-tale!
+       In hell you'll be served right,
+     All day fed on mouldy bread,
+       And pounded all the night!"
+
+The other baby-curse is to the same effect:--
+
+     "He who gives and takes again,
+     Long in hell may he remain!
+     He who gives and takes once more,
+     May we hear him beat on the Devil's door!"
+
+The Spanish form of tag has a touch of mythological grace. One child,
+chosen by lot, is the Moon, and must keep within the shadow. The
+others, Morning-stars, are safe only in the lighted spaces. The game
+is for the Morning-stars to run into the shadow, daring the Moon,
+who, if successful in catching one, becomes a Morning-star in turn,
+and passes out into the light, leaving the one caught to act the part
+of Moon. As the Morning-stars run in and out of the Moon's domain,
+they sing over and over the following stanza:--
+
+     "O the Moon and the Morning-stars!
+     O the Moon and the Morning-stars!
+         Who dares to tread--O
+         Within the shadow?"
+
+Even in swinging, the little girls who push carry on a musical
+dialogue with the happy holder of the seat.
+
+     "'Say good-day, say good-day
+     To Miss Fannie Fly-away!
+     At the door the guests are met,
+     But the table is not set.
+     Put the stew upon the fire.
+     Higher, higher, higher, higher!
+     Now come down, down, down, down,
+     Or the dinner will all burn brown.
+     Soup and bread! soup and bread!
+     I know a plot of roses red,
+     Red as any hero's sword,
+     Or the blood of our Holy Lord.
+     Where art thou, on the wing?'
+     'No, I'm sitting in the swing.'
+     'Who're thy playmates way up there?'
+     'Swallows skimming through the air.'
+     'Down, come down! The stew will burn.
+     Let the rest of us have a turn.'"
+
+In playing "Hide and Seek," the seeker must first sit in a drooping
+attitude with covered eyes, while the others stand about and threaten
+to strike him if he peeps:--
+
+     "Oil-cruet! Don't do it! _Ras con ras!_
+     Pepper-pot? Peep not! _Ras con ras!_"
+
+The menacing little fists are then suddenly withdrawn.
+
+         "No, no! Not a blow!
+     But a pinch on the arm will do no harm.
+         Now let the birdies take alarm!"
+
+And off scamper the hiders to their chosen nooks. When they are safely
+tucked away, the indispensable Mother, standing by, sings to the
+seeker that stanza which is his signal for the start:--
+
+     "My little birds of the mountain
+       Forth from the cage are flown.
+     My little birds of the mountain
+       Have left me all alone."
+
+Spanish forfeit games are numerous and ingenious. In one of these,
+called "The Toilet," the players take the names of Mirror, Brush,
+Comb, Towel, Soap, and other essentials, including Jesus, Devil, and
+Man Alive, these last for exclamatory purposes. As each is mentioned
+by the leader of the game, he must rise instantly, on pain of forfeit,
+no matter how fast the speaker may be rattling on: "_Jesus!_ When will
+that _devil_ of a _maid_ bring me my _powder_ and _perfumes_?"
+Characteristic titles of other forfeit games are, "The Key of Rome,"
+"The Fan," "The Fountain," "I Saw my Love Last Night." The sentences
+vary from such gentle penalties as "The Caress of Cadiz" to the
+predicament of putting three feet on the wall at once.
+
+The choral verses are often mere nonsense.
+
+     "Pipe away! pipe away!
+     Let us play a little play!
+     What will we play?
+     We'll cut our hands away.
+     Who cut them, who?
+     Rain from out the blue.
+     Where is the rain?
+     Hens drank it up again.
+     Hens? And where are they?
+     Gone their eggs to lay.
+     Who will eat them up?
+     Friars when they sup.
+     What do friars do?
+     Sing 'gori-gori-goo.'"
+
+Watching Spanish children, one may see two little girls, say White
+Rose and Sweetness, fly out into an open space, where White Rose
+carefully places the tips of her small shoes in touch with those of
+Sweetness. Then they clasp hands, fling their little bodies as far
+back as these conditions permit, and whirl round and round, singing
+lustily--until they are overcome by giddiness--the following
+rigmarole, or one of its variants:--
+
+         "Titirinela, if you please!
+         Titirinela, bread and cheese:
+     'What is your father's worshipful name?'
+     'Sir Red-pepper, who kisses your hands.'
+     'And how does he call his beautiful dame?'
+     'Lady Cinnamon, at your commands.'
+         Titirinela, toe to toe!
+         Titirinela, round we go!"
+
+  [Illustration: FROM THE TOWER OF GOLD DOWN THE GUADALQUIVÍR]
+
+Even in some of their prettiest games the verses have a childish
+incoherence. Some dozen little girls form a circle, for instance, with
+the Butterfly in the centre. They lift her dress-skirt by the border,
+and hold it outspread about her. Another child, on the outside, runs
+around and around the ring, singing:--
+
+     "Who are these chatterers?
+       Oh, such a number!
+     Not by day nor by night
+       Do they let me slumber.
+     They're daughters of the Moorish king,
+       Who search the garden-close
+     For lovely Lady Ana,
+       The sweetest thing that grows.
+     She's opening the jasmine
+       And shutting up the rose."
+
+Then the children suddenly lift their hands, which are holding
+Butterfly's frock, so as to envelop her head in the folds. The little
+singer outside continues:--
+
+     "Butterfly, butterfly,
+       Dressed in rose-petals!
+     Is it on candle-flame
+       Butterfly settles?
+     How many shirts
+       Have you woven of rain?
+     Weave me another
+       Ere I call you again."
+
+These songs are repeated seven times. Then comes another stanza:--
+
+     "Now that Lady Ana
+       Walks in garden sweet,
+     Gathering the roses
+       Whose dew is on her feet,
+     Butterfly, butterfly,
+       Can you catch us? Try it, try!"
+
+With this the circle breaks and scatters, while Butterfly, blinded as
+she is by the folds of her own skirt wrapped about her head, does her
+best to overtake some one, who shall then become her successor.
+
+Many of the games are simplicity itself. Often the play is merely a
+circle dance, sometimes ending in a sudden kneeling or sitting on the
+ground, One of the songs accompanying this dance runs:--
+
+     "Potatoes and salt must little folks eat,
+       While the grown-up people dine
+     Off lemons and chestnuts and oranges sweet,
+       With cocoanut milk for wine.
+     On the ground do we take our seat,
+       We're at your feet, we're at your feet."
+
+Sometimes a line of children will form across the street and run, hand
+in hand, down its length, singing:--
+
+     "We have closed the street
+       And no one may pass,
+     Only my grandpa
+       Leading his ass
+     Laden with oranges
+           Fresh from the trees.
+         Tilín! Tilín!
+           Down on our knees!
+     Tilín! Tilín! Tilín! Tilín!
+     The holy bell of San Agustín!"
+
+A play for four weans, training them early to the "eternal Spanish
+contradiction," consists in holding a handkerchief by its four
+corners, while one of them sings:--
+
+         "Pull and slacken!
+     I've lost my treasure store.
+         Pull and slacken!
+     I'm going to earn some more.
+         _Slacken!_"
+
+And at this, the other three children must _pull_, on pain of forfeit,
+whereas if the word is _pull_, their business is to _slacken_.
+
+They have a grasshopper game, where they jump about with their hands
+clasped under their knees, singing:--
+
+     "Grasshopper sent me an invitation
+     To come and share his occupation.
+     Grasshopper dear, how could I say no?
+     Grasshopper, grasshopper, here I go!"
+
+In much the same fashion they play "Turkey," gobbling as they hop.
+
+I never found them "playing house" precisely after the manner of our
+own little girls, but there are many variants for the dialogue and
+songs in their game of "Washerwoman." The Mother says: "Mariquilla,
+I'm going out to the river to wash. While I am gone, you must sweep
+and tidy up the house."
+
+"_Bueno, madre._"
+
+But no sooner is the Mother out of sight than naughty Mariquilla
+begins to frisk for joy, singing:--
+
+     "Mother has gone to wash.
+       Mother'll be gone all day.
+     Now can Mariquilla
+       Laugh and dance and play."
+
+But the Mother returns so suddenly that Mariquilla sees her barely in
+time to begin a vigorous sweeping.
+
+     "'What hast been doing, Mary?'
+       'Sweeping with broom of brier.'
+     'A friar saw thee playing.'
+       'He was a lying friar.'
+     'A holy friar tell a lie!'
+       'He lied and so do you.'
+     'Come hither, Mary of my heart,
+       'And I'll beat thee black and blue.'"
+
+After this lively exercise, the washerwoman goes away again, charging
+Mariquilla to churn the butter, then to knead the bread, then to set
+the table, but always with the same disastrous results. The Mother
+finally condemns her to a dinner of bread and bitters, but Mariquilla
+makes a point of understanding her to say bread and honey, and shares
+this sweetness with her sympathetic mates who form the circle. This
+time the beating is so severe that the children of the ring raise
+their arms and let Mariquilla dodge freely in and out, while they do
+all they can to trip and hinder the irate washerwoman in her pursuit.
+
+There is another washing game of more romantic sort, the chorus
+being:--
+
+     "'Bright is the fountain,
+       When skies are blue.
+     Who washed my handkerchief?
+       Tell me true!'
+     'Three mountain maidens
+       Of laughing look.
+     White went their feet
+       In the running brook.
+     One threw in roses,
+       And jasmine one.
+     One spread thy handkerchief
+       In the sun.'"
+
+Spanish children "play store," of course, but they are such dramatic
+little creatures that they need no broken ware for their merchandise.
+A row of them will squat down in the middle of the street, clasp their
+hands under the hollow of their knees, and crook out their arms for
+"handles." Then a customer wanders by, asking, "Who sells honey-jars?"
+The merchant disrespectfully replies, "That do I, Uncle of the Torn
+Trousers." The shabby customer answers with Castilian dignity, "If my
+trousers are torn, my wife will mend them." The merchant then opens
+negotiations. "Will you buy a little jar of honey?" "What's your
+price?" The merchant is not exorbitant. "A flea and a louse." The
+probabilities are, unhappily, that the customer has these commodities
+about him, and he inclines, though cautiously, toward the bargain.
+
+"Your little honey-jars are good?"
+
+"Very good."
+
+"Do they weigh much?"
+
+"Let's see."
+
+So they pick up an hilarious little honey-jar by its handles and tug
+it away between them, not letting it touch the ground, to the
+sidewalk. Here the merchant and customer have designated four spaces
+as Heaven, Limbo, Purgatory, and Hell, but on a preliminary
+paving-stone--let truth need no apology!--they have done some artistic
+spitting, with the result that four different figures in saliva are
+presented to the little honey-jar. These four figures bear a secret
+relation to the four spaces on the sidewalk, and the prisoner must
+make his choice. "This!" he ventures. "Hell!" scream the merchant and
+customer, and drag him, shrieking and struggling, to his doom. The
+next, perhaps, will have the luck to hit on Heaven, for every little
+honey-jar must take his chance in this theological lottery.
+
+Sometimes the market becomes a transformation scene. The children hold
+up their forefingers for candles, but embarrass the merchant by
+doubling these up whenever the customer is on the point of buying.
+Just as the bargain is about to be concluded, the little candles
+vanish and the children roll themselves into bunches of grapes, some
+proving sweet and others sour. Again, they make themselves over into
+pitchers, cushions, and all variety of domestic articles, becoming at
+last a pack of barking dogs which rush out on the customer, snap at
+his legs, and drive him off the premises.
+
+Again, it is a chicken-market on which the Uncle of the Torn Trousers
+chances, where one by one he buys all the hens and chickens, but
+forgets to buy the rooster, and when, by and by, this lordly fowl,
+waxing lonely, cock-a-doodle-doos, the hens and chickens come
+scurrying back to him, more to the profit of the merchant than to the
+satisfaction of the customer.
+
+In another of the chicken games, the Mother leaves Mariquilla in
+charge of the brood, with directions, if the wolf comes, to fling him
+the smallest. But he comes so often that, when the Mother returns,
+there are no chickens left. Then she and Little Mary go hunting them,
+hop-hop-hop through Flea Street, bow-wow-wow through Dog Street, and
+so on without success, until it occurs to them to scatter corn.
+Thereupon with peep-peep-peep and flip-flap-flutter all the chickens
+appear, but only to fly at the negligent Mother, who left them to the
+jaws of the wolf, and assail her with such furious pecks that she must
+run for her life, the indignant chicks racing in wild pursuit.
+
+There is a market-garden game, where one acts as gardener, others as
+vegetables, and others as customers. Others, still, come creeping up
+as thieves, but are opposed by a barking dog, which they kill. The
+gardener summons them before the judge. A trial is held, with much
+fluent Spanish argument pro and con, and the prisoners are condemned
+to execution for the murder of the dog. But at the last thrilling
+moment, when they have confessed their sins to the priests, and been
+torn from the embraces of their weeping friends, the dog trots
+cheerfully in, so very much alive that all the criminals are pardoned
+in a general dance of joy.
+
+The little girls have a favorite shopping game. In this the children
+are seated, shoulder to shoulder, in two rows that face each other.
+Every child takes the name of some cloth, silks and satins being
+preferred. The leader of the game runs around the two rows, singing:--
+
+     "Up the counter, down the counter!
+       How can I buy enough?
+     Down the counter, up the counter!
+       I choose this velvet stuff."
+
+Little Velvet immediately jumps to her feet and follows the leader,
+who continues choosing and calling, choosing and calling, until the
+stock is exhausted and she can go home with all her purchases most
+conveniently trooping at her heels.
+
+But the plays dearest to the black-eyed _niñas_ are love plays, of
+which they have a countless number. Most of these consist of the
+dancing, singing circle, with a child in the centre who chooses a
+mate. Some are as simple as this:--
+
+     "Milk and rice!
+       I want to marry
+     A maiden nice.
+       I may not tarry.
+     It is not this,
+       Nor this, nor this.
+     'Tis only this
+       Whom I want to marry."
+
+  [Illustration: CADIZ FROM THE SEA]
+
+_Ambó, ató_ is hardly more elaborate. When in the exchange of question
+and answer, the child would choose her page and touches one of the
+circle, the mercenary mites dance on faster than ever, until she
+offers whatever gift she has, a flower, apple, or any trifle at hand.
+Then the page runs in and kneels before her. The circle dances about
+the two, singing the refrain, until the first child slips out and
+joins them, leaving the second in the centre to begin the game over
+again.
+
+         "_Ambó, ató, matarile, rile, rile?
+         Ambó, ató, matarile, rile, ron?_
+
+     1.  "What do you want, matarile, rile, rile?
+         What do you want, matarile, rile, ron?
+
+     2.  "I want a page, matarile, rile, rile.
+         I want a page, matarile, rile, ron.
+
+     1.  "Choose whom you will, matarile, rile, rile.
+         Choose whom you will, matarile, rile, ron.
+
+     2.  "I choose Pedro, matarile, rile, rile.
+         I choose Pedro, matarile, rile, ron.
+
+     1.  "What will you give him, matarile, rile, rile?
+         What will you give him, matarile, rile, ron?
+
+     2.  "I'll give him an orange, matarile, rile, rile.
+         I'll give him an orange, matarile, rile, ron.
+
+     1.  "He answers yes, matarile, rile, rile.
+         He answers yes, matarile, rile, ron."
+
+"The Charcoal Woman" requires an odd number of players. The circle
+dances about a little girl who stands all forlorn in the centre. The
+chorus sings the first stanza, the child sings the second, which has
+reference to the fact that Spanish charcoal is often made from laurel
+wood, and the chorus, in a comforting tone, the third. Then, while the
+child runs about and about the circle as if seeking, the chorus
+angrily sings the fourth stanza, accusing her of ambition, and the
+little charcoal woman retorts with the fifth, making her choice as she
+sings the last four words. At this the circle breaks, the children
+quickly choosing mates and dancing by pairs. The one who is left
+without a partner takes her place in the centre as the next Charcoal
+Woman.
+
+                             1.
+
+     _Chorus._ "Who would say that the charcoal woman,
+               Sooty, sooty charcoal woman,
+               In all the city and all the land
+               Could find a lover to kiss her hand?
+
+                             2.
+
+     _Charcoal Woman._
+               "The little widow of good Count Laurel
+               Has no one left her for kiss or quarrel.
+               I want a sweetheart and find me none.
+               Charcoal women must bide alone.
+
+                             3.
+
+     _Chorus._ "Poor little widow, so sweet thou art,
+               If there's no other to claim thy heart,
+               Take thy pick of us who stand
+               Ready to kiss thy sooty hand.
+
+                             4.
+
+     _Chorus._ "The charcoal woman, the charcoal woman,
+               Proud little black little charcoal woman,
+               Goes seeking up and seeking down
+               To find the Count of Cabratown.
+
+                             5.
+
+     _Charcoal Woman._
+               "I would not marry the Count of Cabra.
+               Never will marry the Count of Cabra.
+               Count of Cabra! Oh, deary me!
+               I'll not have him,--_if you're not he!_"
+
+Just such coquettish touches of Spanish spirit and maiden pride appear
+in many of the songs, as, for instance, in one of their counting-out
+carols, "The Garden."
+
+     "The garden of our house it is
+       The funniest garden yet,
+     For when it rains and rains and rains,
+       The garden it is wet.
+           And now we bow,
+     Skip back and then advance,
+     For who know how to make a bow
+           Know how to dance.
+           AB--C--AB--C
+           DE--FG--HI--J.
+     If your worship does not love me,
+       Then a better body may.
+           AB--C--AB--C,
+           KL--MN--OP--Q.
+     If you think you do not love me,
+       I am sure I don't love you."
+
+Sometimes these dancing midgets lisp a song of worldly wisdom:--
+
+     "If any cadet
+       With thee would go,
+     Daughter, instantly
+       Answer no.
+     For how can cadet,
+       This side of Heaven,
+     Keep a wife
+       On his dollars seven?
+
+     "If any lieutenant
+       Asks a caress,
+     Daughter, instantly
+       Answer yes.
+     For the lieutenant
+       Who kisses thy hand
+     May come to be
+       A general grand."
+
+And, again, these babies may be heard giving warning that men betray.
+
+     "The daughters of Ceferino
+       Went to walk--alas!
+     A street above, a street below,
+       Street of San Tomás.
+     The least of all, they lost her.
+       Her father searched--alas!
+     A street above, a street below,
+       Street of San Tomás.
+     And there he found her talking
+       With a cavalier, who said,
+     'Come home with me, my darling,
+       'Tis you that I would wed.'
+
+     "Oh, have you seen the pear tree
+       Upon my grandpa's lawn?
+     Its pears are sweet as honey,
+       But when the pears are gone,
+     A turtle-dove sits moaning,
+       With blood upon her wings,
+     Amid the highest branches,
+       And this is what she sings:
+     'Ill fares the foolish maiden
+       Who trusts a stranger's fibs.
+     She'd better take a cudgel
+       And break his ugly ribs.'"
+
+The dance for "Elisa of Mambrú" begins merrily, and soon saddens to a
+funereal pace.
+
+     "In Madrid was born a maiden--carabí!
+     Daughter of a general--carabí, hurí, hurá!"
+
+The song goes on to tell of Elisa's beautiful hair, which her aunt
+dressed so gently for her with a golden comb and crystal curling-pins,
+and how Elisa died and was carried to church in an elegant coffin, and
+how a little bird used to perch upon her grave and chirp, _pio_,
+_pio_.
+
+Mambrú himself is the pathetic hero of Spanish childhood. This Mambrú
+for whom the little ones from Aragon to Andalusia pipe so many simple
+elegies, the Mambrú sung by Trilby, is not the English Marlborough to
+them, but, be he lord or peasant, one of their very own.
+
+     "Mambrú is gone to serve the king,
+     And comes no more by fall or spring.
+
+     "We've looked until our eyes are dim.
+     Will no one give us word of him?
+
+     "You'd know him for his mother's son
+     By peasant dress of Aragon.
+
+     "You'd know him for my husband dear
+     By broidered kerchief on his spear.
+
+     "The one I broider now is wet.
+     Oh, may I see him wear it yet!"
+
+At the end of this song, as of the following, the little dancers throw
+themselves on the ground, as if in despair.
+
+     "Mambrú went forth to battle.
+         Long live Love!
+     I listen still for his coming feet.
+     The rose on the rose bush blossoms sweet.
+
+     "He will come back by Easter.
+         Long live Love!
+     He will come back by Christmas-tide.
+     The rose on the bush has drooped and died.
+
+     "Down the road a page is riding.
+         Long live Love!
+     'Oh, what are the tidings that you bear?'
+     The rose on the bush is budding fair.
+
+     "'Woe is me for my tidings!'
+         Long live Love!
+     'Mambrú lies cold this many a morn.'
+     Ay, for a rose bush sharp with thorn!
+
+     "A little bird is chirping.
+         Long live Love!
+     In the withered bush where no more buds blow,
+     The bird is chirping a note of woe."
+
+A game that I often watched blithe young Granadines playing under the
+gray shadow of Alhambra walls, seems to be a Spanish version of
+"London Bridge is Falling Down." Two children are chosen to be Rose
+and Pink. These form an arch with their uplifted arms, through which
+run the other children in a line, headed by the Mother. A musical
+dialogue is maintained throughout.
+
+     "_Rose and Pink._
+        To the viper of love, that hides in flowers,
+          The only way lies here.
+
+     _Mother._
+        Then here I pass and leave behind
+          One little daughter dear.
+
+     _Rose and Pink._
+        Shall the first one or the last
+          Be captive of our chain?
+
+     _Mother._
+        Oh, the first one runs too lightly.
+          'Tis the last that shall remain.
+
+     _Chorus._
+        Pass on, oho! Pass on, aha!
+        By the gate of Alcalá!"
+
+The last child is caught by the falling arms and is asked whether she
+will go with Rose or Pink. She shyly whispers her choice, taking her
+stand behind her elected leader, whom she clasps about the waist. When
+all the children of the line have been successively caught in the
+falling arch, and have taken their places behind either Rose or Pink,
+the game ends in a grand tugging match. Rose and Pink hold hands as
+long as they can, while the two lines try to drag them apart. All the
+while, until the very last, the music ripples on:--
+
+     "_Rose and Pink._
+        Let the young mind make its choice,
+          As young minds chance to think.
+        Now is the Rose your leader,
+          Or go you with the Pink?
+        Let the young heart make its choice
+          By laws the young heart knows.
+        Now is the Pink your leader,
+          Or go you with the Rose?
+
+     _Chorus._
+        Pass on, oho! Pass on, aha!
+        By the gate of Alcalá!"
+
+Another favorite is "Golden Ear-rings." Here the Mother, this time a
+Queen, sits in a chair, supposedly a throne, and close before her, on
+the floor, sits the youngest daughter; before this one, the next
+youngest, and so on, in order of age. Two other children, holding a
+handkerchief by the corners, walk up and down the line, one on one
+side and one on the other, so passing the handkerchief above the heads
+of the seated princesses. Then ensues the musical dialogue between
+these two suitors and the Queen.
+
+     "'We've come from France, my lady,
+       And Portugal afar.
+     We've heard of your fair daughters,
+       And very fair they are.'
+
+     'Be they fair or no, señores,
+       It's none of your concern,
+     For God has given me bread for all,
+       And given me hands to earn.'
+
+     'Then we depart, proud lady,
+       To find us brides elsewhere.
+     The daughters of the Moorish king
+       Our wedding rings shall wear.'
+
+     'Come back, my sweet señores!
+       Bear not so high a crest.
+     You may take my eldest daughter,
+       But leave me all the rest.'"
+
+The dialogue is transferred to one of the suitors and to the princess
+at the farther end of the line, on whose head the handkerchief now
+rests.
+
+     "'Will you come with me, my Onion?'
+       'Fie! that's a kitchen smell.'
+     'Will you come with me, my Rosebud?'
+       'Ay, gardens please me well.'"
+
+In similar fashion all the daughters are coaxed away until only the
+youngest remains, but she proves obdurate. They may call her Parsley
+or Pink; it makes no difference. So the suitors resort to bribes, the
+last proving irresistible.
+
+     "'We'll buy you a French missal.'
+       'I have a book in Latin.'
+     'In taffeta we'll dress you.'
+       'My clothes are all of satin.'
+     'You shall ride upon a donkey.'
+       'I ride in coaches here.'
+     'We'll give you golden ear-rings.'
+       'Farewell, my mother dear.'"
+
+In some of the many variants of this game, the Queen herself, adequate
+as she may be to earning her own living, is wooed and won at last.
+
+I have not met with fairy-lore among these children's carols. The only
+fairy known to Spain appears to be a sort of spiritualistic brownie,
+who tips over tables and rattles chairs in empty rooms by night. The
+grown-up men who write of him say he frightens women and children. He
+can haunt a house as effectually as an old-time ghost, and a _Casa del
+Duende_ may go begging for other tenants. One poor lady, who went to
+all the trouble of moving to escape from him, was leaning over the
+balcony of her new home,--so the story goes,--to see the last cartful
+of furniture drive up, when a tiny man in scarlet waved a feathered
+cap to her from the very top of the load and called, "Yes, señora, we
+are all here. We have moved."
+
+So the childish imagination of Spain, shut out from fairyland, makes
+friends with the saints in such innocent, familiar way as well might
+please even Ribera's anchorites. The adventurous small boy about to
+take a high jump pauses to pray:--
+
+     "Saint Magdalene,
+     Don't let me break my thigh!
+     Oh, Saint Thomas,
+     Help this birdie fly!"
+
+The little girls express decided preferences for one saint over
+another.
+
+           "Old San Antón,
+           What has he done?
+     Put us in the corner every one.
+
+           "San Sebastián
+           Is a nice young man.
+     He takes us to walk and gives us a fan."
+
+Santa Rita is best at finding lost needles, and San Pantaleón is a
+humorist.
+
+           "San Pantaleón,
+           Are twenty and one
+     Children enough for an hour of fun
+           Slippers of iron
+           Donkey must try on.
+           Moors with their pages
+           Ride in gold stages.
+           But if you want a
+           Girdle, Infanta,
+           Cucurucú,
+           'Bout-face with you!"
+
+At this one of the children dancing in circle whirls around, remaining
+in her place, but with back turned to the centre and arms crossed over
+her breast, although her hands still hold those of her nearest
+neighbors. The rhyme is sung over and over, until all the little
+figures have thus turned about and the circle is dancing under
+laughable difficulties.
+
+But the dearest saint of all is San Serení. Two of the best-known
+games are under his peculiar blessing. One of these is of the genuine
+Kindergarten type, the children dancing in a circle through the first
+two lines of each stanza, but then loosing hands to imitate, in time
+to the music, the suggested action.
+
+       "San Serení,
+     The holy--holy-hearted!
+       Thus for thee
+     The shoemakers are cobbling.
+       Thus, thus, thus!
+       Thus it pleases us."
+
+Even so it pleases seamstresses to stitch, laundresses to wash,
+carpenters to saw, silversmiths to tap, ironsmiths to pound, and
+little folks to dance, all for "San Serení de la buena, buena vida."
+In the second game, a gymnastic exercise, whose four movements are
+indicated in the four stanzas, he is apostrophized as "San Serení del
+Monte, San Serení cortés."
+
+     "San Serení of the Mountain,
+       Our saint of courtesy,
+     I, as a good Christian,
+       Will fall upon my knee.
+
+     "San Serení of the Mountain,
+       Where the strong winds pass,
+     I, as a good Christian,
+       Will seat me on the grass.
+
+     "San Serení of the Mountain,
+       Where the white clouds fly,
+     I, as a good Christian,
+       Upon the ground will lie.
+
+     "San Serení of the Mountain,
+       Where earth and heaven meet,
+     I, as a good Christian,
+       Will spring upon my feet."
+
+With the legend of St. Katharine and her martyrdom childish fancy has
+played queer caprices.
+
+     "In Cadiz was a wean--ah!
+     The gentlest ever seen--ah!
+     Her name was Catalina.
+           Ay, so!
+     Her name was Catalina.
+
+     "Her father, Moslem cruel,
+     He made her bring in fuel.
+     Her mother fed her gruel.
+           Ay, so!
+     Her mother fed her gruel.
+
+     "They beat her Tuesday, Wednesday,
+     They beat her Thursday, Friday,
+     They beat her Saturday, Monday.
+           Ay, so!
+     They beat her hardest Sunday.
+
+     "Once bade her wicked sire
+     She make a wheel most dire,
+     Of scissors, knives, and fire.
+           Ay, so!
+     Of scissors, knives, and fire.
+
+     "The noble Christian neighbors,
+     In pity of her labors,
+     Brought silver swords and sabres.
+           Ay, so!
+     Brought silver swords and sabres.
+
+     "By noon her task was ended,
+     And on that wheel all splendid
+     Her little knee she bended.
+           Ay, so!
+     Her little knee she bended.
+
+     "Then down a stair of amber
+     She saw the cherubs clamber:
+     'Come rest in our blue chamber.'
+           Ay, so!
+     She rests in their blue chamber."
+
+Little Spaniards are not too intolerant to make a play-fellow of the
+Devil. In one of their pet games, the children form in line, with the
+invaluable Mother in charge. To each child she secretly gives the name
+of a color. Then an Angel comes in with a flying motion and calls, for
+instance, "Purple!" But there is no Purple in the company. It is then
+the Devil's turn, who rushes in, usually armed with a table-fork, and
+roars for "Green." There is a Green in the line, and she has to follow
+the Demon, while the Angel tries again. All right-minded spectators
+hope that the Angel will have the longer array at the last.
+
+The Virgin's well-beloved name comes often into the children's songs.
+
+     "For studying my lessons,
+       So as not to be a dunce,
+     Papa gave me eight dollars,
+       That I mean to spend at once.
+     Four for my dolly's necklace,
+       Two for a collar fine,
+     And one to buy a candle
+       For Our Lady's shrine."
+
+Even the supreme solemnity of the Wafer borne through the kneeling
+streets cannot abash the trustful gaze of childhood.
+
+     "'Where are you going, dear Jesus,
+       So gallant and so gay?'
+     'I am going to a dying man
+       To wash his sins away.
+     And if I find him sorry
+       For the evil he has done,
+     Though his sins are more than the sands of the sea,
+       I'll pardon every one.'
+
+     "'Where are you going, dear Jesus,
+       So gallant and so gay?'
+     'I'm coming back from a dying man
+       Whose sins are washed away.
+     Because I found him sorry
+       For the evil he had done,
+     Though his sins were more than the sands of the sea,
+       I've pardoned every one.'"
+
+The affairs of State as well as of Church have left their traces on
+the children's play. As the little ones dance in circle, their piping
+music tells a confused tale of Spanish history within these latter
+days.
+
+     "In Madrid there is a palace,
+       As bright as polished shell,
+     And in it lives a lady
+       They call Queen Isabel.
+     Not for count nor duke nor marquis
+       Her father would she sell,
+     For not all the gold in Spain could buy
+       The crown of Isabel.
+
+     "One day when she was feasting
+       Within this palace grand,
+     A lad of Aragon walked in
+       And seized her by the hand.
+     Through street and square he dragged her
+       To a dreary prison cell,
+     And all that weary way she wept,
+       The lady Isabel.
+
+     "'For whom art weeping, lady?
+       What gives thy spirit pain?
+     If thou weepest for thy brothers,
+       They will not come again.
+     If thou weepest for thy father,
+       He lies 'neath sheet of stone.'
+     'For these I am not weeping,
+       But for sorrows of mine own.
+
+     "'I want a golden dagger.'
+       'A golden dagger! Why?'
+     'To cut this juicy pear in two.
+       Of thirst I almost die.'
+     We gave the golden dagger.
+       She did not use it well.
+     Ah, no, it was not pears you cut,
+       My lady Isabel."
+
+These dancing circles keep in memory the assassination of Marshal
+Prim.
+
+     "As he came from the Cortes,
+       Men whispered to Prim,
+     'Be wary, be wary,
+       For life and for limb.'
+     Then answered the General,
+       'Come blessing, come bane,
+     I live or I die
+       In the service of Spain.'
+
+     "In the _Calle del Turco_,
+       Where the starlight was dim,
+     Nine cowardly bullets
+       Gave greeting to Prim.
+     The best of the Spaniards
+       Lay smitten and slain,
+     And the new King he died for
+       Came weeping to Spain."
+
+This new king, Amadeo, is funnily commemorated in another dancing
+ditty, "Four Sweethearts."
+
+         "Maiden, if they ask thee,
+         Maiden, if they ask thee,
+     If thou hast a sweetheart--_ha_, _ha_!
+         If thou hast a sweetheart,
+         Answer without blushing,
+         Answer without blushing,
+     'Four sweethearts are mine--_ha_, _ha_!
+         Four sweethearts are mine.
+
+         "'The first he is the son of--
+         The first he is the son of
+     A confectioner--_ha_, _ha_!
+         A confectioner.
+         Sugar-plums he gives me,
+         Sugar-plums he gives me,
+     Caramels and creams--_ha_, _ha_!
+         Caramels and creams.
+
+         "'The second is the son of--
+         The second is the son of
+     An apothecary--_ha_, _ha_!
+         An apothecary.
+         Syrups sweet he gives me,
+         Syrups sweet he gives me,
+     For my little cough--_hack_, _hack_!
+       For my little cough.
+
+         "'The third he is the son of--
+         The third he is the son of
+     The barber to the court--_ha_, _ha_!
+         The barber to the court.
+         Powders rare he gives me,
+         Powders rare he gives me,
+     And a yellow wig--_ha_, _ha_!
+         And a yellow wig.
+
+         "'The fourth? Oh, 'tis a secret,
+         The fourth? Oh, 'tis a secret.
+     Our new Italian king--_ha_, _ha_!
+         Our new Italian king.
+         He gives me silk and satin,
+         He gives me silk and satin,
+     Velvet, gold, and gems--_ha_, _ha_!
+         Velvet, gold, and gems.'"
+
+Strangest of all is the dramatic little dialogue, which one with an
+ear for children's voices may hear any day in Madrid, telling of the
+death of Queen Mercedes.
+
+     "'Whither away, young King Alfonso?
+       (Oh, for pity!) Whither away?'
+     'I go seeking my queen Mercedes,
+       For I have not seen her since yesterday.'
+
+     "'But we have seen your queen Mercedes,
+       Seen the queen, though her eyes were hid,
+     While four dukes all gently bore her
+       Through the streets of sad Madrid.
+
+     "'Oh, how her face was calm as heaven!
+       Oh, how her hands were ivory white!
+     Oh, how she wore the satin slippers
+       That you kissed on the bridal night!
+
+     "'Dark are the lamps of the lonely palace.
+       Black are the suits the nobles don.
+     In letters of gold on the wall 'tis written:
+       _Her Majesty is dead and gone_.'
+
+     "He fainted to hear us, young Alfonso,
+       Drooped like an eagle with broken wing,
+     But the cannon thundered: 'Valor, valor!'
+       And the people shouted: 'Long live the king!'"
+
+Spanish wiseheads say that the children's choral games are already
+perishing, that the blight of schools and books is passing upon the
+child-life of the Peninsula, and soon there will be no more time for
+play. The complaint of the _niñas_ is much to the same effect, yet
+they wear their rue with a difference:--
+
+     "Not even in the _Prado_
+       Can little maidens play,
+     Because those staring, teasing boys
+       Are always in the way.
+
+     "They might be romping with us,
+       For they're only children yet,
+     But they won't play at anything
+       Except a cigarette.
+
+     "Now let me tell you truly:
+       If things go on like this,
+     And midgets care for nothing
+       But to walk and talk and kiss,
+
+     "No plays will cheer the _Prado_
+       In future times, for then
+     The little boys of seven
+       Will all be married men."
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+"O LA SEÑORITA!"
+
+     "Since the English education came into fashion, there is not a
+     maiden left who can feel true love."--ALARCÓN.
+
+
+During my stifling night journey from Madrid to the north I had much
+chat with Castilian and German ladies in the carriage about Spanish
+girls. Our talk turned especially on their reading, so reminding me of
+an incident of the past spring. On an Andalusian balcony I once found
+a little girl curled up in the coolest corner and poring over a
+shabby, paper-bound book. On my expressing interest in the volume, she
+presented it at once, according to the code of Spanish manners. "The
+book is at the disposal of your worship." But as the bundle of
+tattered leaves was not only so precious to her own small worship, but
+also greatly in demand among her worshipful young mates, whose
+constant borrowing seemed a strain even on Andalusian courtesy, I
+retained it merely long enough to note the title and general
+character. The next time I entered a book-shop I expended ten cents
+for this specimen of juvenile literature--"the best-selling book in
+Seville," if the clerk's word may be taken--and have it before me as I
+write. On the cover is stamped a picture of two graceful señoritas,
+perusing, apparently, this very work, "The Book of the Enamored and
+the Secretary of Lovers," and throughout the two hundred pages are
+scattered cheap cuts, never indecent, but suggesting violent ardors of
+passion--embracings, kissings, gazings, pleadings, with hearts,
+arrows, torches, and other ancient and honorable heraldry of Cupid.
+The title-page announces that this is a fifth edition of ten thousand
+copies.
+
+  [Illustration: THE DIVINE SHEPHERD]
+
+The opening section is on "Love and Beauty," enumerating, by the way,
+the "thirty points" essential to a perfect woman. "Three things
+white--skin, teeth, and hands. Three black--eyes, eyebrows, and
+eyelashes. Three rosy--lips, cheeks, and nails." But warning is duly
+given that even the thirty points of beauty do not make up a sum total
+of perfection without the mystic, all-harmonizing quality of charm.
+
+Next in order are the several sets of directions for winning the
+affections of maid, wife, and widow, with a collection of edifying
+sentiments from various saints and wits concerning widows.
+Descriptions of wedding festivities follow, with a glowing
+dissertation on kisses, "the banquet-cups of love." After this stands
+a Castilian translation of an impassioned Arab love-song with the
+burden, _Todo es amor_. Maxims on love, culled chiefly from French
+authorities, are succeeded by an eighteenth-century love-catechism:--
+
+   "_Question._ Art thou a lover?
+
+   _Answer._ Yes, by the grace of Cupid.
+
+   _Question._ What is a lover?
+
+   _Answer._ A lover is one who, having made true and faithful
+   declaration of his passion, seeks the means of gaining the love
+   of her whom he adores."
+
+This is the first lesson. The second treats of the five signs of love,
+the third of love's duties, the fourth gives the orison of lovers--a
+startling adaptation of the Lord's Prayer--and their creed: "I believe
+in Cupid, absolute Lord of Love, who gives to lovers all their joys,
+and in her whom I love most, for most lovable is she, on whom I think
+without ceasing, and for whom I would sacrifice gladly my honor and my
+life."
+
+There is nothing here, it will be noticed, of the Englishman's proud
+exception:--
+
+     "I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
+         Loved I not honor more."
+
+Love has its own beatitudes, too. "Blessed are they who love
+sincerely. Blessed are they of merry mood. Blessed are lovers who have
+patience. Blessed are the rich, for love delights to spend."
+
+A "Divination of Dreams," "copied from an ancient manuscript found in
+the ruins of the convent of San Prudencio, in Clavijo," that famous
+battle-ground where St. James first trampled the Moors, next engages
+attention. To dream of a fan is sign of a coming flirtation; of a
+banner, success in war; of a woman's singing, sorrow and loss; of
+stars, fair fortune in love; of fire, good luck at cards; of a black
+cat, trouble from the mother-in-law; of closed eyes, your child in
+mortal peril; of birds, joy and sweet content; of a ghost, ill health;
+of scissors, a lover's quarrel; of wine, a cheating Frenchman; of
+shoes, long journeys; of angels, good tidings from far away. Some of
+these omens are a surprise to the uninitiated reader. It is bad luck
+to behold in a dream images of Christ and the Virgin. A church, seen
+from within, denotes alms; from without, death. To dream of the altar
+arrayed for high mass betokens grave misfortune. Other omens are
+significant of Spanish discontents. To dream of a Jesuit brings
+miseries and betrayals; of a military officer, tyranny and brutality;
+of a king, danger; of a republic, "abundance, happiness, honors, and
+work well recompensed." Often these divinations run into rhyme, as:--
+
+     "Dream of God at midnight dim,
+     And by day you'll follow Him."
+
+The next section of this Complete Guide is given over to snatches of
+love-song, which Andalusian children know by heart. These five are
+fairly representative:--
+
+     "Mine is a lover well worth the loving.
+       Under my balcony he cries:
+     'You have maddened me with your grace of moving,
+       And the beaming of your soft black eyes.'"
+
+     "Though thou go to the highest heaven,
+       And God's hand draw thee near,
+     The saints will not love thee half so well
+       As I have loved thee here."
+
+     "If I had a blossom rare,
+     I would twine it in thy hair,
+     Though God should stoop and ask for it
+     To make His heaven more exquisite."
+
+     "Such love for thee, sent forth from me,
+       Bears on such iron gate
+     That I, used so, no longer know
+       Whether I love or hate."
+
+     "The learnéd are not wise,
+       The saints are not in bliss;
+     They have not looked into your eyes,
+       Nor felt your burning kiss."
+
+Then comes a "New Dictionary of Love," defining some two hundred
+doubtful terms in Cupid's lexicon, as _forever_, _no_, _unselfish_.
+After this we are treated to the language of fan flirtation, of
+handkerchief flirtation, of flower flirtation, and "the clock of
+Flora," by which lovers easily make appointments,--one, two, three,
+being numbered in rose, pink, tulip, and so on. A cut of a youth
+toiling at a manuscript-laden desk introduces some fifty pages of
+model love-letters, which seem, to the casual eye, to cover all
+contingencies. A selection of verses used for adding a grace to
+birthday and saint-day gifts comes after, and this all-sufficient
+compendium concludes with a "Lovers' Horoscope."
+
+A single illustration of the sort of reading that Spanish girls find
+in their way should not, of course, be pressed too far, and yet any
+one who had seen the pretty group of heads clustered for hours over
+these very pages on that shaded balcony would not deny the book
+significance. A taste for the best reading is not cultivated in
+Spanish girls, even where the treasures of that great Castilian
+literature are accessible to them. Convent education knows nothing of
+Calderon. As for books especially adapted to girlhood, we have just
+examined a sample.
+
+Love and religion are the only subjects with which a señorita is
+expected to concern herself, and the life of the convent is often a
+second choice. Even when a Spanish girl wins her crown of wifehood
+and motherhood, her ignorance and poverty of thought tell heavily
+against the most essential interests of family life. The Spanish bride
+is often a child in years. Pacheco's direction for painting the
+Immaculate Conception ran, "Our Lady is to be pictured in the flower
+of her age, from twelve to thirteen." This was three centuries ago,
+but Spain changes slowly. The girl of to-day, nevertheless, marries
+later than her mother married. I remember one weary woman of forty
+with eighteen children in their graves and the three who were living
+physical and mental weaklings. She told us of a friend who married at
+fourteen and used to leave her household affairs in confusion while
+she stole away to a corner to play with her dolls. Her husband, a
+grave lawyer in middle life, would come home to dinner and find his
+helpmeet romping with the other children in the _plaza_.
+
+The Spanish girl is every whit as fascinating as her musical, cloaked
+gallant confides to her iron-grated lattice. Indeed, these amorous
+serenades hardly do her justice, blending as she does French animation
+with Italian fervor. In Andalusia she dances with a grace that makes
+every other use of life seem vain. And when she bargains, there is
+nothing sordid about it. Her haggling is a social condescension that
+at once puts the black-eyed young salesman at her mercy.
+
+"But the fan seems to me the least bit dear, señor."
+
+He shrugs his shoulders and flings out his arm in protest.
+
+"Ah, señorita! You see not how beautiful the work is. I am giving it
+away at six _pesetas_."
+
+She lifts her eyebrows half incredulously, all bewitchingly.
+
+"At five _pesetas_, señor."
+
+He runs his hand through his black hair in chivalrous distress.
+
+"But the peerless work, señorita! And this other, too! I sacrifice it
+at four _pesetas_."
+
+She touches both fans lightly.
+
+"You will let us have the two at seven _pesetas_, señor?"
+
+Her eyes dance over his confusion. He catches the gleam, laughs back,
+throws up his hands.
+
+"_Bueno_, señorita. At what you please."
+
+It takes a Spaniard to depict a throng of Spanish ladies,--"fiery
+carnations or starry jasmine in their hair, cheeks like blush roses,
+eyes black or blue, with lashes quivering like butterflies; cherry
+lips, a glance as fickle as the light nod of a flower in the wind, and
+smiles that reveal teeth like pearls; the all-pervading fan with its
+wordless telegraphy in a thousand colors." In such a throng one sees
+not only the typical "eyes of midnight," but those "emerald eyes"
+which Cervantes knew, and veritable pansy-colored eyes dancing with
+more than pansy mischief. But the voices! In curious contrast to the
+tones of Spanish men, soft, coaxing, caressing, the voices of the
+women are too often high and harsh, suggesting, in moments of
+excitement, the scream of the Andalusian parrot. "O Jesus, what a
+fetching hat! The feather, the feather, see, see, see, _see_ the
+feather! Mary Most Pure, but it must have cost four or five _pesetas_!
+Ah, my God, don't I wish it were mine!" The speaker who gets the lead
+in a chattering knot of Spanish women is a prodigy not only of
+volubility, but of general muscular action. She keeps time to her
+shrill music with hands, fan, elbows, shoulders, eyebrows, knees. She
+dashes her sentences with inarticulate whirs and whistles, and
+countless pious interjections: _Gracias á Dios! Santa Maria! O Dios
+mio!_ The others, out-screamed and out-gesticulated, clutch at her,
+shriek at her, fly at her, and still, by some mysterious genius,
+maintain courtesy, grace, and dignity through it all. Yet it is true
+that the vulgar-rich variety is especially obnoxious among Spaniards.
+An overdressed Spanish woman is frightfully overdressed, her voice is
+maddening, her gusts of mirth and anger are painfully uncontrolled.
+This, however, is the exception, and refinement the rule.
+
+The legendary Spanish lady is forever sitting at a barred window, or
+leaning from a balcony, coquetting with a fan and dropping arch
+responses to the "caramel phrases" of her guitar-tinkling cavalier.
+
+     "You're always saying you'd die for me.
+       I doubt it nevertheless;
+     But prove it true by dying,
+       And then I'll answer yes."
+
+For, loving as they are, Spanish sweethearts take naturally to
+teasing. "When he calls me his Butterfly, I call him my Elephant. Then
+his eyes are like black fire, for he is ashamed to be so big, but in a
+twinkling I can make him smile again." The scorn of these dainty
+creatures for the graces of the ruling sex is not altogether affected.
+I shall not forget the expression with which a Sevillian belle, an
+exquisite dancer, watched her _novio_ as, red and perspiring, he flung
+his stout legs valiantly through the mazes of the _jota_. "Men are
+uglier than ever when they are dancing, aren't they?" she remarked to
+me with all the serenity in the world. And a bewitching maiden in
+Madrid, as I passed some favorable comment upon the photographs of her
+two brothers, gave a deprecatory shrug. "Handsome? _Ca!_" (Which is
+_no_ many times intensified.) "But they are not so ugly, either,--_for
+men_."
+
+The style of compliment addressed by _caballeros_ to señoritas is not
+like "the quality of mercy," but very much strained indeed. "Your eyes
+are two runaway stars, that would rather shine in your face than in
+heaven, but your heart is harder than the columns of Solomon's temple.
+Your father was a confectioner and rubbed your lips with honey-cakes."
+Little Consuelo, or Lagrimas, or Milagros, or Dolores, or Peligros
+laughs it off, "Ah, now you are throwing flowers."
+
+The _coplas_ of the wooer below the balcony are usually sentimental.
+
+     "By night I go to the patio,
+       And my tears in the fountain fall,
+     To think that I love you so much,
+       And you love me not at all."
+
+     "Sweetheart, little Sweetheart!
+       Love, my Love!
+     I can't see thy eyes
+       For the lashes above.
+     Eyes black as midnight,
+       Lashes black as grief!
+     O, my heart is thirsty
+       As a summer leaf."
+
+     "If I could but be buried
+       In the dimple of your chin,
+     I would wish, Dear, that dying
+       Might at once begin."
+
+     "If thou wilt be a white dove,
+       I will be a blue.
+     We'll put our bills together
+       And coo, coo, coo."
+
+Sometimes the sentiment is relieved by a realistic touch.
+
+     "Very anxious is the flea,
+       Caught between finger and thumb.
+     More anxious I, on watch for thee,
+       Lest thou shouldst not come."
+
+And occasionally the lover, flouted overmuch, retorts in kind.
+
+     "Don't blame me that eyes are wet,
+       For I only pay my debt.
+     I've taught you to cry and fret,
+       But first you taught me to forget."
+
+     "I'll not have you, Little Torment,
+       I don't want you, Little Witch.
+     Let your mother light four candles
+       And stand you in a niche."
+
+The average Spaniard is well satisfied with his señora as she is. He
+did her extravagant homage as a suitor, he treats her with kindly
+indulgence as a husband, but he expects of her a life utterly bounded
+by the _casa_. "What is a woman?" we heard one say. "A bottle of
+wine." And those few words tell the story why, with all their charm,
+home-love, and piety, the Spanish women have not availed to keep the
+social life of the Peninsula sound and sweet.
+
+     "But to admire them as our gallants do,
+     'Oh, what an eye she hath! Oh, dainty hand!
+     Rare foot and leg!' and leave the mind respectless,
+     This is a plague that in both men and women
+     Makes such pollution of our earthly being."
+
+The life of the convent is attractive to girls of mystic temperament,
+like the _Maria_ of Valdés, but many of these lively daughters of the
+sun regard it with frank disfavor. One of the songs found in the
+mouths of little girls all over the Peninsula is amusingly expressive
+of the childish aversion to so dull a destiny.
+
+     "I wanted to be married
+       To a sprightly barber-lad,
+     But my parents wished to put me
+       In the convent dim and sad.
+
+     "One afternoon of summer
+       They walked me out in state,
+     And as we turned a corner,
+       I saw the convent gate.
+
+     "Out poured all the solemn nuns
+       In black from toe to chin,
+     Each with a lighted candle,
+       And made me enter in.
+
+     "The file was like a funeral;
+       The door shut out the day;
+     They sat me on a marble stool
+       And cut my hair away.
+
+     "The pendants from my ears they took,
+       And the ring I loved to wear,
+     But the hardest loss of all to brook
+       Was my mat of raven hair.
+
+     "If I run out to the garden
+       And pluck the roses red,
+     I have to kneel in church until
+       Twice twenty prayers are said.
+
+     "If I steal up to the tower
+       And clang the convent bell,
+     The holy Abbess utters words
+       I do not choose to tell.
+
+     "My parents, O my parents,
+       Unkindly have you done,
+     For I was never meant to be
+       A dismal little nun."
+
+I came but slightly in contact with Spanish nuns. Among the figures
+that stand out clear in memory are a kindly old sister, at Seville, in
+the _Hospital de la Caridad_, who paused midway in her exhibition of
+the famous Murillos there to wipe her eyes and grieve that we were
+Protestants, and an austere, beautiful woman in _La Cuna_, or
+Foundling Asylum of Seville, who caressed a crying baby with the
+passionate tenderness of motherhood denied. The merriest Spanish
+_hermana_ of our acquaintance we encountered on the French side of the
+Pyrenees. At Anglet, halfway between Biarritz and Bayonne, is the
+Convent of the Bernardines, Silent Sisters. The visitor sees them only
+from a distance, robed in white flannel, with large white crosses
+gleaming on the back of their hooded capes. These, too, were
+originally white, and the hoods so deep that not even the profile of
+the features could be seen; but the French Government, disturbed by
+the excessive death-rate in this order, recently had the audacity to
+interfere and give summary orders that the hoods be cut away, so that
+the healthful sunshine might visit those pale faces. The mandate was
+obeyed, but, perhaps in sign of mournful protest, the new hoods and
+capes are black as night. These women Trappists may recite their
+prayers aloud, as they work in field or garden, or over their
+embroidery frames, but they speak for human hearing only once a year,
+when their closest family friends may visit them and listen through a
+grating to what their disused voices may yet be able to utter. From
+all other contact with the world they are shielded by an outpost guard
+of a few of the Servants of Mary, an industrious, self-supporting
+sisterhood, whose own convent, half a mile away, is a refuge for
+unwedded mothers and a home for unfathered children. Hither the
+pitying sisters brought, a few days before our visit, a wild-eyed girl
+whom they had found lying on one of the sea rocks, waiting for the
+rising tide to cover her and her shame together. The chief treasure of
+this nunnery, one regrets to add, is the polished skull of Mary
+Magdalene.
+
+That one of the Servants of Mary who showed us over the Trappist
+convent was a bright-eyed Spanish dame of many winters, as natural a
+chatterbox as ever gossiped with the neighbors in the sun. Her glee in
+this little opportunity for conversation was enough to wring the heart
+of any lover of old ladies. She walked as slowly as possible and
+detained us on every conceivable pretext, reaching up on her rheumatic
+tiptoes to pluck us red and white camellias, and pointing out, with a
+lingering garrulity, the hardness of the cots in the bare, cold little
+cells, the narrowness of the benches in the austere chapel, and, in
+the cheerless dining room, the floor of deep sand, in which the
+Bernardines kneel throughout their Friday dinner of bread and water.
+Longest of all, she kept us in the cemetery, all spick and span, with
+close-set rows of nameless graves, each with a cross shaped upon it in
+white seashells. The dear old soul, in her coarse blue gown, with tidy
+white kerchief and neatly darned black hood and veil, showed us the
+grave of her own sister, adding, proudly, that her four remaining
+sisters were all cloistered in various convents of Spain.
+
+"All six of us nuns," she said, "but my brother--no! He has the
+dowries of us all and lives the life of the world. Just think! I have
+two nephews in Toledo. I have never seen them. My sister's grave is
+pretty, is it not? They let me put flowers there. Oh, there are many
+families in Spain like ours, where all the daughters are put into
+convents. Spain is a very religious country. The sons? Not so often.
+Sometimes, when there is a conscription, many young men become priests
+to escape military service but it is the women who are most devout in
+Spain."
+
+And after the rustic gate was shut on the sleeping-place of the
+Bernardines, scarcely more silent and more dead beneath the sod than
+above it, she still detained us with whispered hints of distinguished
+Spanish ladies among those ghostly, far-off figures that, pitchfork or
+pruning knife in hand, would fall instantly upon their knees at the
+ringing of the frequent bell for prayers. Spanish ladies, too, had
+given this French convent many of its most costly treasures. We said
+good-by to our guide near an elaborate shrine of the Madonna, which a
+bereaved Spanish mother had erected with the graven request that the
+nuns pray for the soul of her beloved dead.
+
+"Even we Servants of Mary are not allowed to talk much here," said in
+parting this most sociable of saints, clinging to us with a
+toil-roughened, brown old hand. "It is a holy life, but quiet--very
+quiet. I have been here forty-four years this winter. My name is
+Sister Solitude."
+
+The nun whom I knew best was an exquisite little sister just back from
+Manila. During several months I went to her, in a Paris convent, twice
+or three times a week, for Spanish lessons. The reception room in
+which I used to await her coming shone not as with soap and water, but
+as with the very essence of purity. The whiteness of the long, fine
+curtains had something celestial about it. The only book in sight, a
+bundle of well-worn leaves bound in crimson plush and placed with
+precision in the centre of the gleaming mahogany table, was a volume
+of classic French sermons,--the first two being on Demons, and the
+next on Penance. Further than this I never read; for very punctually
+the slight figure, in violet skirt and bodice, with a white cross
+embroidered upon the breast, swept softly down the hall. A heavy
+purple cord and a large-beaded rosary depended from the waist. In
+conversation she often raised her hand to press her ring, sign of her
+sacred espousals, to her lips. Her type of face I often afterward saw
+in Spain, but never again so perfect. Her complexion was the richest
+southern brown, the eyes brightening in excitement to vivid, flashing
+black. The eyebrows, luxuriant even to heaviness, were nevertheless
+delicately outlined, and the straight line of the white band
+emphasized their graceful arch. The nose was massive for a woman's
+face, and there was a slight shading of hair upon the upper lip. The
+mouth and chin, though so daintily moulded, were strong. Not the
+meek, religious droop of the eyelids could mask the fire, vigor,
+vitality, intensity, that lay stored like so much electricity behind
+the tranquil convent look.
+
+We would go for the lesson to a severe little chamber, whose only
+ornament was a crucifix of olive wood fastened against the wall. Then
+how those velvet eyes would glow and sparkle in the eagerness of
+rushing speech! The little sister loved to tell of her Manila
+experience, almost a welcome break, I fancied, in the monotonous peace
+of cloister life. All that Sunday morning, when the battle was on, the
+nuns maintained their customary services, hearing above their prayers
+and chants and the solemn diapason of the organ, the boom, boom, boom
+of our wicked American cannon. For, according to this naive historian,
+Catholic Spain, best beloved of Our Lady among the nations of the
+earth, had labored long in the Philippines to Christianize the
+heathen, when suddenly, in the midst of those pious labors with which
+she was too preoccupied to think of fitting out men-of-war and
+drilling gunners, a pirate fleet bore down upon her and overthrew at
+once the Spanish banner and the Holy Cross. Tears sparkled through
+flame as the _hermanita_ told of her beautiful convent home, now half
+demolished. The sisters did not abandon it until six weeks after the
+battle, but as the nunnery stood outside the city walls, their
+superior judged it no safe abode for Spanish ladies, and ordered them
+away. The French consul arranged for their transport to Hongkong on a
+dirty little vessel, where they had to stay on deck, the twenty-seven
+of them, during their week's voyage, suffering from lack of proper
+shelter and especially from thirst, the water supply running short the
+second day out. But all this was joy of martyrdom.
+
+"Is not Hongkong a very strange city?" I asked. "Did it seem to you
+more like Manila than like Paris and Madrid?"
+
+The little sister's voice was touched with prompt rebuke.
+
+"You speak after the fashion of the world. All cities look alike to
+us. Ours is the life of the convent. It matters nothing where the
+convent stands."
+
+Stimulated by reproof, I waxed impertinent. "Not even if it stands
+within range of the guns? Now, truly, truly, were you not the least
+bit frightened that morning of the battle?"
+
+The sunny southern smile was a fleeting one, and left a reminiscent
+shadow in the eyes.
+
+"Frightened? Oh, no! There were no guns between us and Paradise. From
+early dawn we heard the firing, and hour after hour we knelt before
+the altar and prayed to the Mother of God to comfort the souls of the
+brave men who were dying for _la patria_; but we were not frightened."
+
+There were strange jostlings of ideas in that cloistered cell,
+especially when the dusk had stolen in between our bending faces and
+the Spanish page.
+
+Once we talked of suicide. That morning it had been a wealthy young
+Parisian who had paid its daily tribute to the Seine.
+
+"What a horror!" gasped the little sister, clasping her slender hands
+against her breast. "It is a mortal sin. And how foolish! For if life
+is hard to bear, surely perdition is harder."
+
+"It does not seem to me so strange in case of the poor," I responded,
+waiving theology. "But a rich man, though his own happiness fails,
+has still the power of making others happy."
+
+"Ah, but I understand!" cried Little Manila, her eyes like stars in
+the dimness. "The devil does not see truth as the blessed spirits do,
+but sees falsehoods even as the world. And so in his blindness he
+believes the soul of a rich man more precious than the souls of the
+poor, and tempts the rich man more than others. Yet when the devil has
+that soul, will he find it made of gold?"
+
+  [Illustration: MADRID ROYAL PALACE]
+
+One chilly November afternoon, gray with a fog that had utterly
+swallowed the Eiffel Tower above its first huge uprights, which
+straddled disconsolately like legs forsaken of their giant, she
+explained in a sudden rush of words why Spain had been worsted in the
+war with America.
+
+"Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth. As with persons, so with
+nations. Those that are not of His fold He gives over to their fill of
+vainglory and greed and power, but the Catholic nations He cleanses
+again and again in the bitter waters of defeat--ah, in fire and blood!
+Yet the end is not yet. The rod of His correction is upon Spain at
+this hour, and the Faithful are glad in the very heart of sorrow, for
+even so shall her sins be purged away, even so shall her coldness be
+quickened, even so shall she be made ready for her everlasting
+recompense."
+
+"And the poor Protestant nations?" I asked, between a smile and a
+sigh.
+
+The little sister smiled back, but the Catholic eyes, for all their
+courtly graciousness, were implacable.
+
+She was of a titled family and had passed a petted childhood in
+Madrid. There she had been taken, on her seventh birthday, to a
+_corrida de toros_, but remembered it unpleasantly, not because of the
+torture inflicted on the horses and bulls, but because she had been
+frightened by the great beasts, with their tossing horns and furious
+bellowing. Horns always made her think of the devil, she said. From
+her babyhood she had been afraid of horns.
+
+One day a mischievous impulse led me to inquire, in connection with a
+chat about the Escorial, "And how do you like Philip II?"
+
+The black eyes shot one ray of sympathetic merriment, but the Spaniard
+and the nun were on their guard.
+
+"He was a very good Catholic," she replied demurely.
+
+"So was _Isabel la Católica_," I responded. "But don't you think she
+may have been a trifle more agreeable?"
+
+"Perhaps she was a little more _simpática_," admitted the _hermanita_,
+but that was her utmost concession. She would not even allow that
+Philip had a sorry end.
+
+"If his body groaned, his soul was communing with the Blessed Saints
+and paid no heed."
+
+At the corner of the street which led under the great garden wall to
+the heavily barred gate of the convent was a flower-stand. The shrewd,
+swift-tongued Madame in charge well knew the look of the unwary, and
+usually succeeded in selling me a cluster of drooping blossoms at
+twice the value of the fresh, throwing in an extra leaf or stem at the
+close of the bargain with an air of prodigal benevolence. The handful
+of flowers would be smilingly accepted by the little sister, but
+instantly laid aside nor favored with glance or touch until the close
+of the visit, when they would be lifted again with a winsome word of
+acknowledgment and carried away, probably to spend their sweetness at
+the marble feet of the Virgin. In vain I tried to coax from this
+scorner of God's earth some sign of pleasure in the flowers
+themselves.
+
+"Don't you care for tea-roses?" "_Ah, el mundo pasa._ But their color
+is exquisite."
+
+Yet her eyes did not turn to the poor posy for the two hours
+following.
+
+"This mignonette has only the grace of sweetness."
+
+"It is a delicate scent, but it will not last. _El mundo pasa._"
+
+She held the sprays at arm's length for a moment, and then laid them
+down on a mantel at the farther end of the room.
+
+"I am sorry these violets are not fresher."
+
+"But no! The touch of Time has not yet found them. Still, it is only a
+question of to-morrow. _El mundo pasa._"
+
+"Yes, the world passes. But is it not good while it lasts?"
+
+"The world good! No, no, and a thousand times no. Behold it now at the
+end of the nineteenth century,--wars and sorrows and bitter
+discontents, evil deeds and evil passions everywhere. Do you see the
+peace of Christ in the faces on the Paris streets? The blossoms of
+this earth, the pleasures of this world, the affections of this life,
+all have the taste of death. But here in God's own garden we live even
+now His everlasting life."
+
+"You are always glad of your choice? You never miss the friends of
+your childhood?"
+
+"Glad, glad, glad. Glad of my choice. Glad to see no more the faces of
+father and mother. And for them, too, it is great joy. For Catholic
+parents it is supreme delight to give up their children to the Holy
+Church. The ways of the world are full of slippery places, but when
+they leave us here, they know that our feet are set on the very
+threshold of heaven."
+
+Sometimes the slight form shivered in the violet habit, and the dark
+foreign face looked out with touching weariness from its frame of soft
+white folds.
+
+"You are cold? You are tired? Will you take my cloak? Were the
+children troublesome to-day?"
+
+It was always the same answer: "_No importa. No importa._ It matters
+not. Our life is not the life of flesh and blood."
+
+And indeed, as I saw her in the Christmas service among the other
+Spanish sisters, those lovely figures in white and violet making
+obeisance before the altar until their veiled foreheads almost touched
+the pavement, bowing and rising again with the music like a field of
+lilies swaying in the breeze, I felt that she was already a being of
+another world, before she had known this. Over her had been chanted
+the prayers for the dead. The strange ceremony of taking the veil had
+been her burial rite. The convent seemed a ghost land between earth
+and heaven.
+
+My _hermanita_ belonged to one of the teaching orders, and despite the
+strange blanks in her knowledge, for secular lore had been, so far as
+possible, excluded from her education, she was representative of the
+finer and more intelligent class of Spanish nuns. In Granada I heard
+of the nuns chiefly as the makers of those delicious _dulces_, sugared
+fruits, which were indispensable to a child's saint-day, and there I
+was taught the scoffing epitaph:--
+
+     "Here lies Sister Claribel,
+     Who made sweetmeats very well,
+     And passed her life in pious follies,
+     Such as dressing waxen dollies."
+
+  [Illustration: THE ROYAL FAMILY]
+
+To the spinster outside the nunnery Spain has little to offer. Small
+heed is paid to her except by St. Elias, who, on one day of Holy Week,
+walks about all Seville with a pen in his hand, peering up at the
+balconies and making note of the old maids. Since Andalusia expresses
+the theory of counterparts by saying, "Every one has somewhere in the
+world his half orange," the spinster can hardly hope for a
+well-rounded life. Careers are not open to her. There are "advanced
+women" in Spain, the most eminent being Emelia Pardo Bazan, novelist,
+lecturer, editor, who advocates for women equal educational and
+political privileges with men, but who has not yet succeeded in
+opening the doors. The voice of Spanish women, nevertheless, is
+sometimes heard by Spanish statesmen, as when delegation after
+delegation of señoras who had relatives held as prisoners by the
+Filipinos invaded the senate-house with petitions until they could no
+longer be ignored.
+
+A more thorough and liberal education for Spanish women is the
+pressing need to-day. There is, of course, great lack of primary
+schooling. A girl in her late teens, wearing the prettiest of
+embroidered aprons and with the reddest of roses in her hair, once
+appealed to me in Toledo for help. She had been sent from a
+confectioner's to deliver a tray of wheaten rolls at a given address,
+and she could read neither the names of streets nor the numbers of
+houses. But the higher education will carry the lower with it. Spain
+is degenerate in this regard. The Moors used to have at Cordova an
+academy for girls, where science, mathematics, and history were
+taught. Schools for Spanish girls at present impart little more than
+reading and writing, needle-work, the catechism, the four rules of
+arithmetic, and some slight notion of geography. French and music,
+recognized accomplishments, are learned by daughters of the privileged
+class from their governesses or in the convents. Missionary work in
+Spain has largely concerned itself with the educational question, and
+Mrs. Gulick's project for the establishment of a woman's college in
+Madrid, a college without distinction of creed, is the fruit of long
+experience. Little by little she has proven the intellectual ability
+of Spanish girls. She established the International Institute at San
+Sebastian, secured State examination for her _niñas_ and State
+recognition of their eminent success, and even won for a few of them
+admission to the University of Madrid, where they maintained the
+highest rank throughout the course. All that Spanish girls need is
+opportunity.
+
+But if the señoritas are so charming now, with their roses and their
+graces and their fans, why not leave them as they are, a page of
+mediæval poetry in this strenuous modern world? If only they were
+dolls outright and did not suffer so! When life goes hard with these
+high-spirited, incapable creatures, it goes terribly hard. I can see
+yet the tears scorch in the proud eyes of three undowered sisters,
+slaving at their one art of embroidery from early till late for the
+miserable pittance that it brought them. "We shall rest when we are
+dead," said the youngest. The absolute lack of future for these brave,
+sensitive girls, well-born, well-bred, naturally as keen as the
+keenest, but more ignorant, in matters of common education, than the
+children of our lowest grammar grade, is heart-breaking. If such girls
+were stupid, shallow, coarse, it would be easier; but the Spanish type
+is finely strung. Once I saw an impulsive beauty fly into that gust of
+angry passion which Spaniards term the _rabia española_. A clumsy,
+well-intentioned young Austrian had said a teasing word, and in the
+fraction of a second the girl, overwrought with secret toils and
+anxieties, was in a tempest of tears; but the wrath that blazed across
+them burned the offender crimson. The poor fellow sent for his case of
+choice Asturian cider, cooling in the balcony, read the evening news
+aloud and discoursed on the value of self-control, but not even these
+tactful attentions could undo, for that evening at least, the work of
+his blundering jest. The girl flashed away to her chamber, her
+handkerchief bitten through and through, and the quick fierce sound of
+her sobs came to me across the hall deep into the night.
+
+Wandering over Spain I found everywhere these winning, vivid, helpless
+girls, versed in needlework and social graces, but knowing next to
+nothing of history, literature, science, all that pertains to
+intellectual culture. Some were hungry to learn. More did not dream of
+the world of thought as a possible world for them. Among these it was
+delightful to meet, scattered like precious seed throughout the
+Peninsula, the graduates of the International Institute. So far as a
+stranger could see, education had enhanced in them the Spanish
+radiance and charm, while arming these with wisdom, power, and
+resource.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+ACROSS THE BASQUE PROVINCES
+
+     "The Oak Tree of Guernica
+       Within its foliage green
+     Embraces the bright honor
+       Of all the Basque demesne.
+     For this we count thee holy,
+       Our ancient seal and sign;
+     The fibres of our freedom
+       Are interlaced with thine.
+
+     "Castile's most haughty tyrants
+       Beneath thy solemn shade
+     Have sworn to keep the charter
+       Our fearless fathers made;
+     For noble on our mountains
+       Is he who yokes the ox,
+     And equal to a monarch
+       The shepherd of the flocks."
+                           --_National Song of the Basques._
+
+
+It did not seem to me historically respectful to take leave of Spain
+without having made a pilgrimage to the shrine of Santiago. A
+dauntless friend crossed the sea to bear me company. Hygienic pilgrim
+that she is, she came equipped not with cockle shells and sandal
+shoon, but with sleeping bags, coffee, and cereals. Many a morning, in
+traversing those northern provinces, where the scenery was better than
+the breakfast, we blessed her boxes of "grape nuts," and many a night,
+doomed to penitential beds, we were thankful to intrench ourselves
+against the stings and arrows of outrageous insects in those spacious
+linen bags, that gather close about the neck, or, when dangers
+thicken, above the head, leaving only a loophole for the breath.
+
+Our point of departure was that city of nature's fancy-work, San
+Sebastian. Then, in the early half of July, it was all alive with
+expectancy, looking every day for the coming of the Court. It is
+reputed to be the cleanest town of the Peninsula, and is, in truth, as
+bright as a wave-washed pebble. Nevertheless, it is a favorite waltz
+hall of the fleas, which shamelessly obtrude themselves even into
+conversation.
+
+The chief summer industry of San Sebastian is sea-bathing. The
+soldiers begin it at six o'clock in the morning, marching by regiments
+down to the Concha, clearing for action, and striking out into the
+gentle surf, all in simultaneous obedience to successive words of
+command. Some two hours later teams of oxen draw scores of jaunty
+bathing cars down near the white lip of this opalescent shell of
+water, and there the long day through all ages, sizes, and ranks of
+humanity sport in the curling foam or swim far out into the sparkling
+bay.
+
+San Sebastian is the capital of Guipúzcoa, one of the three Basque
+provinces. These lie among the Cantabrian mountains, and are
+delightfully picturesque with wheat-growing valleys and well-wooded
+heights. As the train wandered on, in its pensive Spanish fashion, we
+found ourselves now in Scotland, in a beautiful waste of heather and
+gorse, now amid the English ivy and hawthorn, hearing the song of the
+English robin, and now in our own New England, with the hilly reaches
+of apple orchards and the fields upon fields of tasselled Indian
+maize.
+
+The Basques are a thrifty folk, and have cultivated their scant acres
+to the utmost. The valleys are planted with corn, the lower hills are
+ridged and terraced for a variety of crops. Above are walnuts and
+chestnuts, and the flintiest summits serve for pasturage. It was
+curious to see men at work on those steep slopes that had been scooped
+out into a succession of narrow shelves, and more strange yet to catch
+glimpses of peasants ploughing the very mountain top, picturesque
+figures against the sky.
+
+The reaping is of the cleanest. The harvest fields have a neat,
+scoured look, as if the women had been over them with scrubbing
+brushes. Yet this utilitarian soil admits of oaks and beeches, ferns
+and clover, morning glories, dandelions, pimpernel, and daisies.
+
+All that sunny morning the train swung us blithely on from one charm
+of the eyes to another--from a ruined watch-tower, where red-handed
+Carlists had crouched, to a bright-kerchiefed maiden singing amid her
+beehives; from a range of abrupt peaks, cleft by deep gorges, to
+sycamore-shaded byways and poplar-bordered streams; from a village
+graveyard, the pathetic little parallelogram enclosed in high gray
+walls and dim with cypress shadows, to a tumbling, madcap torrent
+spanned by a time-gnawed Roman arch. Shooting the heart of some black
+hill, the train would run out on a mere ledge above a valley hamlet,
+and from pure inquisitiveness, apparently, ramble all around the
+circle, peering down from every point of view on the cluster of great,
+patriarchal houses, sometimes of timber and plaster, more often of
+stone, where whole clans dwell together under the same red-tiled roof.
+Queer old houses these, occasionally topped with blue chimneys, and
+now and then with a fantastic coat of arms sculptured over the door,
+or a fresco of saints and devils blazoned all across the front.
+Sometimes freshly whitewashed, these Basque houses have more often a
+weather-worn, dingy look, but, however black the timbers, lines of
+clean linen flutter airily from roofs and balconies.
+
+They are a decent, self-respecting, prosperous people, these Basque
+mountaineers, of whose history my companion told me stirring tales.
+They are supposed, though not without dispute, to be the oldest race
+in Europe, descendants of those original Iberians whom the
+westward-trooping Aryans drove into the fastnesses of the Pyrenees.
+They have their own language, of Asiatic type. They themselves believe
+that it was spoken in the Garden of Eden. There are some twenty-five
+dialects of the _Vascuense_, and it is so difficult for foreigners
+that even George Borrow spoke it "with considerable hesitation," and
+one exhausted student, abandoning the struggle, declared that the
+words were all "written Solomon and pronounced Nebuchadnezzar." The
+Basques attribute their hardy virtues to the crabbedness of their
+speech, telling how the devil, after slaving over their vocabulary for
+seven years, had succeeded in learning only three words, and threw up
+his lesson in a pet, so that to this day he remains unable to meddle
+with their peasant piety. What little literature there is in the
+Basque language is naturally of the popular cast--hero songs, dancing
+songs, dirges, hymns, and folk-lore.
+
+The Basques are noted for their passionate love of liberty. The sturdy
+peasant is lord of his own rugged farm, and insists on tilling it in
+his own primitive way, breaking the soil with rude mattock more often
+than with plough. An English engineer, laying a railroad through
+Alava, tried his best to make his men abandon their slow, laborious
+method of carrying the earth in baskets on their heads. He finally had
+all the baskets removed by night, and wheelbarrows left in their
+places. But the unalterable Basques set the loaded wheelbarrows on
+their heads, and staggered about beneath these awkward burdens until,
+for very shame, he had to give them back their baskets.
+
+The peasant drives over the mountain roads in a ponderous ox-cart,
+with two clumsy disks of wood for wheels. The platform is wrought of
+rough-hewn beams, five or seven, the middle one running forward to
+serve as pole. All the structure, except the iron tires and nails, is
+of wood, and the solid wooden wheels, as the massive axle to which
+they are riveted turns over and over, make a most horrible squeaking.
+It is a sound dear to the peasantry, for they believe the oxen like
+it, and, moreover, that it frightens away the devil; but once upon a
+time a town of advanced views voted a fine of five dollars for any man
+who should bring this musical abomination within its limits. Thereupon
+a freeborn Basque rose with the dawn, selected his best carved oaken
+yoke, draped the red-stained sheepskin a trifle more carefully than
+usual above the patient eyes of his great smooth oxen, and took his
+way, "squeakity-squeak, squeakity-squeak," straight to the door of the
+_Ayuntamiento_, city hall, where he paid his twenty-five _pesetas_,
+and then devoted the rest of the day to driving all about the streets,
+squeaking out his money's worth. This is no servile temper, and it was
+not until our own generation that the dearly cherished liberties of
+the Basques were wrested away.
+
+  [Illustration: THE MANZANARES]
+
+These warders of the Pyrenees, for the Basques of Navarre and those
+now known as French Basques must not be forgotten, did good service in
+helping the Visigoths beat back the northward-pressing Moors and the
+southward-pressing Franks; but when the Basque provinces of Spain were
+incorporated with Leon and Navarre, and later with Castile, the
+mountaineers stood stubbornly for their _fuéros_, or peculiar rights.
+
+My comrade's lecture had reached this point, when, finding ourselves
+at Amorebieta, in the Province of Vizcaya, or Biscay, we suddenly
+descended from the train, and handed our bags to an honest Basque
+porter, who deposited them on the floor of an open waiting room, in
+full reach of an honest Basque population. For ourselves, we turned
+our faces toward the centre of Vizcayan glory, the famous Tree of
+Guernica. We entered a rustic train, that seemed entirely undecided
+which way to go. The station agent blew a little tin horn, green
+meadows and wattled fences began to glide past the car windows, and
+the interrupted discourse was resumed.
+
+The lawmakers of Vizcaya were duly chosen by their fellow-nobles, for
+every Basque held the rank of _hidalgo_, or "son of somebody." The
+deputies met every two years in the village of Guernica, sitting on
+stone benches in the open air beneath the sacred oak, and there
+elected the _Señores de Vizcaya_. Even the kings of Spain were allowed
+no grander title, but had to come to the Tree of Guernica, at first in
+person, later by deputy, and there swear to observe the _fuéros_. To
+this green shadow came the peasant from his lonely farm-house, high on
+the mountainside, to answer before his peers to such charges as might
+be brought against him; for within the sanctuary of his home the law
+could lay no hand on him or his.
+
+It was the Carlist wars that changed all this. The _fuéros_, of which
+a list dating from 1342 is still extant, granted the Basque provinces
+a Republican Constitution that almost realized an ideal democracy,
+with immunity from taxes save for their own needs, and from military
+service beyond their own boundaries. But when the dynastic strife
+broke out, the Basques put on the white cap of Don Carlos and bore the
+brunt of the conflict. We had already passed through Vergara, where,
+in 1839, Espartero ended the first Carlist war by a treaty which
+compelled the Basques to lay down their arms. But the cost of this
+rebellion was paid in blood. Their political status was practically
+unaffected. At the close of the second Carlist war, in 1876, Alfonso
+XII signalized his victory by meting out to them a terrible
+punishment, abrogating the precious _fuéros_ that the Tree of Guernica
+had guarded for so many centuries. The Government imposed, moreover,
+its salt and tobacco monopolies, and made the Basques subject to
+military conscription. At every station we saw Spain's Vizcayan
+soldiers, red-capped and red-trousered, with blue-belted frock coats,
+under which beat hearts of doubtful loyalty. The son of Alfonso XII
+will have to reckon with the Basques, when the third Carlist war shall
+be declared, but it may be doubted whether the _fuéros_, which Don
+Carlos, of course, promises to restore, will ever come home to nest
+again in the Guernica Oak.
+
+My erudite fellow-vagabond was just pointing out the typical shape of
+the Basque head, with its broad forehead, long, narrowing face, curved
+nose, and pointed chin, when we reached Guernica. Such a sweet and
+tranquil village as it is, set in the beauty of the hills, with the
+dignity and pathos of its history pervading every hushed,
+old-fashioned street! The guide, whom two affable ladies, sharers of
+our carriage in the little picnic train, had taken pains to look up
+for us at the station, was not, we judged, a favorable specimen of the
+haughty Basque _hidalgo_. He was a dull, mumbling, slouchy lad, who
+sunk his voice to an awed whisper as we passed the escutcheon-carved
+palace of a count. But he led us by pleasant ways to the modern _Casa
+de Juntas_, or Senate House, where we were shown the assembly room,
+with its altar for mass, the library and other apartments, together
+with the portraits of the twenty-six first _Señores de Vizcaya_, from
+Lope the Pirate, who forced back the invading Galicians in 840, to the
+Infante Don Juan, under whom the Basque provinces were finally
+incorporated with Castile.
+
+Close by the _Casa de Juntas_, which stands in a dreamy bit of park as
+fresh and trim as an English cathedral close, rises a pillared
+portico. There, where brown-eyed little Basque girls, their brown
+braids blowing in the breeze, were dangling green figs above their
+laughing mouths, used to sit, on those seven stone seats, the grave
+Basque fathers, making laws, meting out judgment, and regulating all
+the affairs of this simple mountain republic. The portico, bearing as
+joint devices the lion and castle of Spain and the three wolves of
+Vizcaya, was formerly enveloped in the leafy shadow of the Sacred
+Tree; but what rises behind it now is only the gaunt stem of a
+patriarchal oak, a very Abraham of plants, all enclosed in glass, as
+if embalmed in its casket. Before the portico, however, grows a lusty
+scion, for the Tree of Guernica is of unbroken lineage, shoots being
+always cherished to succeed in case the centuried predecessor fail.
+
+In presence of this despoiled old trunk, majestic with memories, we
+felt an honest awe and longed to give it adequate salute. My comrade
+levelled her kodak and took front views, back views, and side views
+with such spendthrift enthusiasm that the custodian, deeply impressed,
+presented her with a dried leaf from the junior, cunningly pricked out
+so as to suggest the figure of the tree. The national song of the
+Basques, a matter of some dozen stanzas, written principally in "j's,"
+"rr's," and "tz's," takes its theme, if one may trust the Castilian
+translation, from this symbolic oak.
+
+The historian wished to do nothing more in Guernica but sit and gaze
+forever on that spectral trunk, but the reminder that piety was a
+hardly less marked Basque characteristic than political independence,
+finally induced her to follow our guide to the church. A Basque church
+has its distinctive features, including a belfry, a lofty, plain
+interior, with galleries, and often a votive ship, gayly painted and
+fully rigged, suspended from the ceiling. The lad bore himself with
+simple-minded devotion, offering us on stubby finger tips the holy
+water and making due obeisance before each gilded shrine.
+
+But my attention was soon fascinated by a foot-square relief on a blue
+ground of Santiago--
+
+     "Good Saint James upon the milkwhite steed,
+     Who leaves his bliss to fight for chosen Spain."
+
+I had hardly anticipated such a stalwart, vigorous, not to say violent
+saint, with his white horse galloping, his gold-sandalled feet
+gripping the great stirrups, his gold-fringed, crimson robe and azure
+mantle streaming on the wind, his terrible sword glittering high in
+air. This was clearly not a person to be trifled with, and I looked
+about for the historian to tell her that we must be pressing forward
+on our pilgrimage. But she had stolen out, every sympathetic Basque
+image of the sculptured doorway conspiring to keep a stony silence and
+conceal her flight, and had sped back to the Tree of Guernica, from
+whose contemplation she was torn away only by a fairy-tale of supper.
+
+Of the several Basque churches which we visited, including the bridal
+church of Louis XIV, far-famed San Juan de Luz, whose sides and west
+end are portioned off by three tiers of galleries, fairest in memory
+is the sixteenth-century church of Begoña in Bilbao. It abounds, as
+coast churches should, in suggestions of that mighty, mysterious
+neighbor, at once so cruel and so beneficent, the sea. Instead of
+votive ships, the walls are hung with paintings of vessels in scenes
+of appalling peril. One is scudding madly before a tropical gale; one
+has her rigging ragged by hurricane and her decks lashed with tempest;
+one, careened upon her side, lies at the mercy of the billows, which
+are sweeping over her and tumbling her crew like ninepins into the
+deep. But the presence of the pictures, bold dashes of the modern
+brush amid dim old paintings of saints and martyrs, tells that Our
+Lady of Begoña succored her sailors in distress, who, on their safe
+return, came hither to offer thanks for their preservation and to
+leave these mementos of their danger and her efficient aid.
+
+"Is your Virgin so very powerful?" we asked of a chorister boy while
+he drew the cords to part the curtains that screened the jewelled
+image throned in a recess above the high altar.
+
+"I should rather think she was," answered the little fellow in a glow.
+"Why, let me tell you! Robbers, the accursed ones, came here on a dark
+midnight to steal her precious stones. They entered by a window, those
+sons of wretched mothers, and put up a long ladder against the altar
+wall. The wickedest of them all, señoras, he climbed the ladder and
+raised his hand to take Our Lady's crown. And in that instant the
+great bells overhead began to ring, and all the bells of all Bilbao
+pealed with them, and the people waked and came running to the rescue
+of Our Lady, and the robbers were put to death."
+
+Our expression did not quite satisfy his boyish ardor, and he pointed
+convincingly toward a handsome silver plaque. "And this, too,
+witnesses Our Lady's power. It was given in memory of the cholera
+time, when people were dying like flies in all the towns about. But
+after Our Lady was carried in procession through the streets of
+Bilbao, not one died here, except a sinful man who would not turn his
+head to look upon her."
+
+"That is a painting of the procession, the large picture over there on
+the wall?"
+
+"No, no, señoras. That picture commemorates another of Our Lady's
+wonderful deeds. The floods were threatening the city, but Our Lady,
+with many censers and candles, was borne down to the river bank, and
+she ordered the water to go back, and it obeyed her, and all the town
+was saved."
+
+We retreated to the cloisters, from which one has a superb view of the
+valley of the Nervion, for Our Lady of Begoña dwells high upon a
+hilltop. Only the afternoon before we had been in serene Guernica, a
+strange contrast to this mining capital of Vizcaya, this bustling,
+noisy, iron-grimed Bilbao, in which the Basques take such delight. It
+is not a city to gratify the mere tourist, who expects the people of
+the lands through which he is pleased to pass to devote themselves to
+looking picturesque. But even Spain is something more than food for
+the kodak, and this sooty atmosphere of smelting works and factories,
+traffic and commerce, means life to Spanish lungs. It is little to my
+credit that I took more interest in the fact that Bilbao used to
+supply Shakespeare's cronies with rapiers, under the name of
+"bilboes," than in statistics regarding those millions of tons of ore
+which its iron mines are now annually exporting to Great Britain. The
+many English in Bilbao, miners and artisans, with the influence they
+shed around them, make the streets rougher and uglier than in purely
+Spanish towns. On the other hand, they bring a spirit of religious
+independence, so that it is not strange to find the Spanish
+Protestants of Bilbao a numerous and vigorous body, counting as a
+pronounced element in the community.
+
+From the idle peace of the Begoña cloisters, as from the old-time
+world, we looked long on this Spanish city of to-day, seething with
+manifold activities. We seemed to understand how, to the middle-class
+Spaniard, hemmed in by all this mediæval encumbrance of barracks,
+cathedrals, castles, and thrones, such cities as Bilbao and Barcelona,
+pulsing with industrial energy and enterprise, are "more beautiful
+than Beauty's self." The Basques, like the Catalans, take readily to
+business. They set their mountain cascades to turning mill-wheels,
+they canal their little Nervion till it can give passage to ships of
+four thousand tons burden, they paint the night with the flare of
+mighty furnaces. Every year they are building more wharves, more
+railroads, more electric tramways, and they are so prodigiously proud
+of their new iron bridge, with its flying ferry, which whisks
+passengers over from Portugalete to Las Arenas at the rate of two
+hundred a minute, that they stamp it on their characteristic jewelry.
+That cunning Eibar work of the Basque provinces displays again and
+again, on locket, bracelet, brooch, this incongruous design of the
+_Puente Vizcaya_ beaten on chased steel in gold.
+
+We looked regretfully out over those significant reaches of land which
+we would have liked to explore to the last hearthstone. The Basque
+provinces! We had not even set foot in Vitoria, the capital of Alava,
+where is preserved the grim old _machete_ by which Basque governors
+were sworn into office. "May my head be cut off with this knife," ran
+the oath, "if I do not defend the _fuéros_ of my fatherland."
+
+And we longed to attend one of the peasant festivals, to see the lads
+play _pelota_ and the lasses step Basque dances to the music of the
+village pipers, to hear the wild old marches and battle tunes that
+have roused the Roman and the Moor to arms. The mystery plays of the
+Basques were famous once, and although these naive dramas are now
+mainly confined to Christmas and Easter, who could say that we might
+not chance on some saint-day fragment? There was soon to take
+place, too, in one of the Vizcayan hamlets a "blessing of the fields,"
+a processional harvest rite of pagan antiquity, formerly universal in
+Spain, but now confined to a few rural districts. We had a hundred
+reasons for lingering--but what are reasons? Pilgrims of St. James
+must put fresh peas in their shoes and be off for Compostela.
+
+  [Illustration: SPANISH CEMETERY]
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+IN OLD CASTILE
+
+     "With three thousand men of Leon from the city Bernard goes,
+     To protect the soil Hispanian from the spear of Frankish foes;
+     From the city which is planted in the midst between the seas,
+     To preserve the name and glory of old Pelayo's victories.
+
+     "The peasant hears upon his field the trumpet of the knight,--
+     He quits his team for spear and shield and garniture of might;
+     The shepherd hears it 'mid the mist,--he flingeth down his crook,
+     And rushes from the mountain like a tempest-troubled brook."
+                                       --LOCKHART: _Spanish Ballads_.
+
+
+The journey from Bilbao to Santander is a continuous glory of mountain
+views. The train runs saucily along under beetling crags, whence the
+gods of the hills may well look down in wonder and displeasure on this
+noisy invasion of their solitude. We almost saw those ancient
+majesties folding themselves grandly in mantles of purple shadow, but
+hardly less royal in bearing were the muffled figures of the lonely
+shepherds tending their flocks on the very summits.
+
+The modern Province of Santander is the renowned Montaña, the mountain
+lair which nourished the chivalry of Old Castile, and from which they
+made wild sallies to the south, troop after troop, generation after
+generation, until the Moorish standards were beaten back from the
+plains about Toledo to the Sierras of Andalusia. Its capital city,
+Santander, named from St. Andrew, was one of the four coast towns
+which rendered signal service to Fernando in the conquest of Seville.
+These towns, lying as they did over against the Cinque Ports of
+England, came into so frequent conflict with British mariners as to be
+made in the days of Edward III the subject of a special treaty.
+
+A summer resort, however, is a summer resort the world over, and we
+found the historic city, which has gracefully fitted itself to the
+curve of its beautiful bay, crowded with idle people, elaborately
+dressed, who sat long at the noonday breakfast, and longer yet at the
+evening dinner, and then longest of all on the benches in the park,
+where bands clashed and fireworks flared, until the very stars began
+to blink for sleepiness.
+
+Spaniards have a veritable passion for pyrotechnics, and our dreams
+until the dawn would be punctuated by the airy report of rockets, as
+if, so Galdós suggests, "the angels were cracking nuts in the sky."
+Every now and then in those soft warm nights there rose a shout of
+song from the street, and peeping down from the balcony, we would see
+half a dozen lads and lasses leaping along through the middle of the
+road, all abreast and hand in hand, in one of their boisterous peasant
+dances.
+
+There are no fewer dangers and sorrows for girls in Spain than in the
+other Latin lands. In the low-vaulted, mighty-pillared, deep-shadowed
+crypt under the old cathedral, a crypt that is the very haunt of
+religious mystery and dread, we came upon a penitent kneeling before
+the altar, a bit of written paper pinned to her back. In a stir of the
+chill air this fluttered to the ground, and as she, unconscious of
+its loss, bowed herself before another shrine, we picked up the paper
+with a half thought of restoring it; but seeing in the first glance
+that it was a rudely written prayer, entreating the Virgin's pity and
+pardon for her lover and herself, we let it fall again at Mary's feet.
+All manner of thank-offerings, waxen limbs, eyes, and ears, were hung
+in these candle-lit recesses, little spaces of gold amid the gloom. We
+had grown accustomed to such fragments of anatomy in the shop-windows,
+where even votive stomachs are displayed for sale.
+
+Although Santander is a dawdler's paradise, the residents of the city
+to whom we had letters were no holiday makers, but Spaniards of the
+earnest, thoughtful, liberal type, busy with large tasks of their own,
+but never too busy, being Spaniards, to show unstinted kindness to the
+strangers within their gates. Our brief stay did not admit of a tithe
+of the excursions they had in mind for us, but my comrade achieved a
+trip to Santillana del Mar, birthplace of the doughty Gil Blas.
+
+In the latest version of her adventures, she set forth from Santander
+under the bluest of skies, in company with the most bewitching of
+señoritas. They left the train at Torrelavega, where the shade of
+Garci Laso, one of King Pedro's victims, would doubtless have welcomed
+them, had not their attention been taken up with a picturesque
+coachman, who was standing dreamily on the station platform. This
+Adonis proved a complete paragon, who, as they took their romantic
+course over the hills, delightedly pointed out ivied tower, broken
+portcullis, and the like, as tidbits for the kodak.
+
+Santillana is the shrine of Santa Juliana, a Roman martyr, whose body
+is said to have been carried thither in the ninth century. Her
+devotees among the mountain wilds built her in this green valley,
+overhung by a rude old fortress, a precious church, a jewel of the
+early Romanesque, about whose walls a thriving community soon
+gathered. Santillana was throughout the Middle Ages the most important
+place between Burgos and Oviedo, and gave name to all that part of the
+Montaña. The successive Marquises of Santillana were then great
+personages in Spain, playing a leading part at Court. One of the
+proudest families of Old Castile, they claimed descent from the Cid,
+and cherished the memory of another heroic ancestor, who, in 1385,
+sacrificed his life to save his king.
+
+     "'Your horse is faint, my King, my Lord! your gallant horse is
+       sick,--
+     His limbs are torn, his breast is gored, on his eye the film is
+       thick;
+     Mount, mount on mine, O mount apace, I pray thee mount and fly!
+     Or in my arms I'll lift your Grace,--their trampling hoofs are
+       nigh!
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "'Nay, never speak; my sires, Lord King, received their land from
+       yours,
+     And joyfully their blood shall spring, so be it thine secures;
+     If I should fly, and thou, my King, be found among the dead,
+     How could I stand 'mong gentlemen, such scorn on my gray head?'
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "So spake the brave Montañez, Butrago's lord was he;
+     And turned him to the coming host in steadfastness and glee;
+     He flung himself among them, as they came down the hill,--
+     He died, God wot! but not before his sword had drunk its fill."
+
+The city of Santillana, whose lords once laid claim to the sovereignty
+of Santander, has shrunk to a forgotten village, and the neglected
+church is dropping into ruins; but the inhabitants have abated not a
+jot of that fierce local patriotism which blinds the provincial
+Spaniard to all defects of his birthplace and to all excellences of
+rival towns. A graybeard told the stranger ladies that Santillana was
+the oldest city in Spain and its cathedral the most beautiful. This
+latter statement they were almost ready to accept, so richly carven
+was the yellow stone and so harmonious the proportions of nave and
+aisle. When they arrived at this miniature Durham they found it closed
+and silent, with three little boys sleeping on the steps. Through the
+benevolence of the ever present Spanish loafers, the sacristan was
+sought out and a ragged escort formed for their progress from chapel
+to chapel, where rare old pictures and frescos glowed across the dusk.
+Best of all were the venerable cloisters, weed-grown and tumble-down,
+but lovely as a mediæval dream with mellow-tinted arch and column, and
+with capitals of marvellous device. This crumbling church still keeps
+a dazzling hoard of treasures. All the front of the high altar is
+wrought of solid silver, the reredos is a miracle of art, and the
+paintings of old masters that moulder here unseen would long since in
+any other land than Catholic Spain have been the spoils of gallery and
+museum.
+
+The cathedral stands just outside the town, whose narrow, crooked
+streets daunted the carriage; but these enthusiastic sightseers were
+all the better pleased to foot the flagging that many a clinking tread
+had worn and to touch on either side, with their extended hands, the
+fortresslike houses built of heavy stone and dimly emblazoned with
+fierce armorial bearings. These grim dwellings were gladdened by the
+grace of vine-clad balconies, where children frolicked and women
+crooned quaint melodies over their needlework.
+
+     "Will no one tell me what she sings?
+       Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
+     For old, unhappy, far-off things
+       And battles long ago."
+
+The inn was merely the customary Spanish _venta_, rough and poor, the
+darkness of whose long, low room clouds of tobacco smoke from clumps
+of gambling muleteers were making blacker yet; but lemonade was served
+to the ladies in the open porch with a charm of cordial courtesy far
+beyond Delmonico's.
+
+As they quaffed this modest refreshment and watched the shifting
+groups about the _venta_, which seemed the centre of the social life,
+there suddenly appeared upon the scene a ghost from the modern world,
+an everyday gentleman in a straw hat, as citified and up to date as if
+he had that moment stepped out of a Madrid café. All the loungers
+within and without the _venta_ sprang to their feet, bared their
+heads, and bowed low to this anachronism with so profound a deference
+that the tourists began to wonder if the irrepressible Gil Blas had
+come alive again. Not he! This was the Marquis of Santillana, bearing
+under his arm instead of a sword a bundle of newspapers. The first
+Marquis of Santillana had been a famous warrior and troubadour. This
+latest "inheritor of old renown," seating himself in the midst of his
+thronging vassals, graciously proceeded, much like a University
+Extension lecturer, to read aloud, with simple explanations, the news
+of the day. Such is the final form of _noblesse oblige_ in the feudal
+valley of Santillana.
+
+We were tempted to hunt out other nooks and eyries in the mountains of
+Santander, to see something of the famous sardine fisheries, to drive
+along the many-storied coast all the way to Gijon, paying our respects
+in passing to a noble oak of Asturias, one of the three largest trees
+of Europe; but always the uplifted sword of St. James drove us on. If
+we would reach Compostela in season for the annual _fiesta de
+Santiago_, there was no time to lose. So, in default of a nearer
+railway connection, we started due south for Palencia. Our route ran
+at first through a land of hills, maize, and stone walls that might
+have been New England, except for the women scratching away in the
+hay-fields, and politely saluting the train with a flourish of their
+pitchforks.
+
+Then more and more the landscape became Spanish. Little stone hamlets
+dozed in ever shallower valleys, mule trains and solitary horsemen
+moved slowly down poplar-bordered highways, white as chalk; there was
+a slumbering peasant for every speck of shade. But while the men took
+their siestas, often sleeping where the drowsiness had befallen them,
+with arm thrown about the wooden plough or with head pillowed on the
+thrashing roller, there were always women at work--figures clad in the
+very colors of the harvest, red and gold and purple, binding sheaves,
+sweeping the fields with stout brush brooms, tending flocks and herds
+by the rivers, following stray sheep over the hills, with only a
+handkerchief at the most to protect their heads from the terrible
+noonday sun. As the afternoon wore on, we found ourselves in the
+melancholy reaches of brown Castilian plain, with the adobe towns,
+the miserable mud villages, open-air threshing floors, and arid,
+silent, Oriental look.
+
+  [Illustration: TOLEDO]
+
+The only cloud in sight was that which rested for a moment on my
+comrade's face. She had so newly come from our clean and wholesome
+fatherland that certain features of the Spanish inns still shook her
+high serenity of soul, and she had suddenly discovered that Baedeker
+significantly characterized the Palencia hotel as "an indifferent
+Spanish house." In the discreet language of our excellent guidebook
+this was no less than a note of warning, a signal of alarm. But even
+Baedeker is fallible, and on arriving at the _Gran Hotel Continental_,
+we were met by all the Castilian dignity and grave kindliness of
+greeting, and led to rooms whose floors shone with oil and scrubbing,
+whose curtains, towels, and sheeting were white as mountain snow, and
+whose furnishings were resplendent with two dozen chairs upholstered
+in orange satin. We seated ourselves in rapture on one saffron throne
+after another, drank fresh milk from polished glasses, and slept, for
+this only night of all our Santiago pilgrimage, the sleep of the
+unbitten. A sweet-voiced _sereno_ intoning the hours set our dreams to
+music.
+
+The following morning we spent in the cathedral, which, though of
+plain exterior, except for the many-imaged "Door of the Bishop," is
+all lightness, grace, and symmetry within. The organ was pealing and
+women were kneeling for the mass as we went softly down the
+high-vaulted nave, our spirits played upon now by the dignity of
+pointed arches and of clustered columns and now by delicate beauties
+in tracery and carving. Only here and there were we aware of a jarring
+note, as in chancing upon a great crucifix whose Christ was decked
+out in two elegant lace petticoats and a white silk crinoline
+embroidered over with silver thread.
+
+When the chant had died away, an affectionate old sacristan, in a
+curious red and black coat, delivered us with sundry farewell pats and
+pinches over to the charge of a subordinate, who proceeded to display
+the hidden treasures. These are far from overwhelming, after the
+glittering hoards of Burgos, Seville, and Toledo, but they are as odd
+an assortment as sacristy ever sheltered. There was an absurd portrait
+of Charles I, a freak of foreshortening. At first sight it seemed to
+be the skeleton of a fish, but on viewing it through a peephole the
+creature had become a human face. Even so, it was hardly a flattering
+likeness of the founder of the Austrian line; but as it was Charles I
+who stripped Palencia of her original powers and dignities, one would
+not expect to find him complimented here.
+
+We turned our attention to the vestments, which, though few, are
+peculiarly artistic, with devices, stitched in gold thread and in
+jewel reds and greens, of pomegranates, roses, ecclesiastical coats of
+arms, angels, Maries, Nativities, and Adorations. These were
+appropriate enough, but even our reserved conductor, a monastic youth
+who wore a white, openwork tunic over his black suit, smiled
+disdainfully as he put before us a time-yellowed ivory box arabesqued
+with men and lions, the jewel casket of some pet sultana. "But why
+should it be here?" He shrugged his shoulders. "In truth, it is not
+holy--a woman's thing! Nor do I know how it came to us, but what we
+have we keep."
+
+The sacristy certainly seems to have kept more than its share of
+_custodias_. Our guide first brought out a dainty structure, where
+grieving angels uplift the cross, and the Sufferer's halo is wrought
+of pearls and gems. This was replaced by another, a marvel of
+goldsmith's craft, turreted and crocketed with fine gold, while all
+about the base are figured Annunciations, Visitations, and other
+mysteries. Rich as they were, neither of these could compare with that
+famous pyx of the Escorial, inlaid with ten thousand precious stones.
+Then our conductor took us with a mighty turning of monster keys,
+pulling of rusty bolts, and fall of clanging chains, to see the
+supreme _custodia_ of all, one great dazzle of silver from fretted
+base to dome and pinnacle, save as among the Corinthian columns of the
+first stage glisten golden forms of the Apostles, and of the second,
+winged shapes of cherubim and seraphim. This shining tower, some three
+or four centuries old, is beheld by Palencia only on Corpus Christi
+Day, when, holding at its heart the golden monstrance which holds the
+Host, it passes as a triumphal car throughout the city. Priests
+walking on either side make a feint of drawing it by tasselled cords,
+but "little would it budge for that," said our guide, in high disdain,
+opening a door in the frame beneath to reveal the benches where strong
+men sit concealed and toil at a motor crank. He had much more to show
+us, including precious old tapestries of the Netherlands, and a St.
+Katharine by Zurbarán, with a light on the kneeling figure as pure and
+bright as a moonbeam; but we had to press the fee on his Castilian
+pride, when at last the vulgarity of luncheon summoned us away.
+
+For the historian, basking in this last smile of civilization, the
+afternoon passed blissfully among the orange chairs, but I sallied
+forth once more, attended by our benignant landlady. The rays of the
+sun flashed down like deadly arrows and I had pleaded for a carriage,
+but longed to beg its pardon when it came, so faded, rheumatic, and
+yet august was that fat old chariot, groaning and tottering as it
+rolled, but lowering the pomp of a velvet-carpeted staircase whenever
+we desired to alight.
+
+Our progress made a grand sensation in those drowsy streets and
+squares, a retinue soon gathered, and nobody seemed surprised when,
+after a round of Jesuit and Dominican churches, we drew up before the
+madhouse. I had wished to look upon this building, because it is
+reputed to have been a dwelling of the Cid; but the hero of Castile
+was as unknown to my gentle escort as to the medical priest whom she
+must needs call forth to meet me, or to the hapless lunatics whom he,
+in turn, insisted on my seeing. A town which had forgotten its chief
+citizen naturally fails to keep on sale photographs of its cathedral,
+so we packed our memories in default of anything more substantial and
+took the evening train to the northwest.
+
+Four hours of hushed, moonlit plain, and then Leon! This is a name of
+thrilling memories, and we stepped out into the midnight silence of
+that once royal capital whose kingdom "stretched from the Atlantic
+Ocean to the Rhone," so awed that even a rickety 'bus, and a smuggler
+who tried to hide his trunk behind our honest luggage, hardly broke
+the spell. My comrade, still new to Spanish ways, had fears that the
+illustrated card which I had forgotten to stamp would not have reached
+the hotel. She asked me why I did not telegraph; but some days later,
+when we sent a telegram at noon, took a way-train at five, and reached
+our destination at ten, simultaneously with the telegram which I might
+as well have brought in my pocket, she was set free from New World
+prejudices. The unstamped card went through without question, a
+picture of a pretty mountain maid being quite as acceptable to the
+postal clerks as the portrait of their young king.
+
+We were expected at the hotel, the best in town, but so dirty and
+malodorous that we would better have camped under the stars. There had
+been some attempt to sweep the floor of our dingy chamber, as we could
+see by comparing it with stairs and corridors. Sour milk and sour
+bread were served with a compensating sweetness of manner, but the
+experiences of that night belong to oblivion.
+
+The joy of the morning! Guided by a shy little scullery lad, smooched
+of face and ragged of raiment, but with all the instincts of a
+cavalier, we stepped out into those stately streets, with their
+haughty old houses, balconies, coats of arms, arches, and battlements,
+as into an animated picture book. It was Saturday, and the town was
+all astir with peasants come to market, every peasant as good as a
+romance. Such brightness of figured kerchiefs, homespun petticoats,
+trunk hose, jackets, sashes! The little girls were quaintest of all,
+dressed precisely like their mammas, even to those brilliant skirts
+edged with one color and slashed with another. Many of the women were
+carrying loads of greens, others plucked fowls, and some had indignant
+chickens, in full possession of chicken faculties, snuggled under the
+arm.
+
+As the chief city in a far reach of luxuriant plain, Leon becomes the
+focus, every Saturday, of flocks of sheep, droves of pigs, and herds
+of cattle, together with innumerable mules and donkeys bringing in
+grain, fruit, and all manner of garden produce. We chanced upon the
+market itself in the arcaded _Plaza Mayor_, under shadow of the
+towered court-house, with the tapering spire of the cathedral
+overlooking all. The great square hummed like a beehive and sparkled
+with shifting color like a field of butterflies. We found ourselves
+first in the bread market. Under wide umbrellas of canvas set on poles
+women were perched high on wooden benches, with their gayly shod feet
+supported on stools. Beside each woman, on her rude seat, was a
+brightly woven basket heaped with the horny Spanish loaves. Close by
+was the fruit market, with its piles of red and purple plums, pears,
+grapes, green peppers, lemons, and, beyond, patches of melons,
+cucumbers, cabbages, potatoes, beans, and that staff of Spanish life,
+chick pease, or _garbanzos_.
+
+The meat market appeared to be itinerant. A man in blue blouse, short
+brown breeches, and dove-colored hose adorned with green tassels, was
+leading a cow by its crumpled horn; an old woman, with giant silver
+hoops in her ears, a lavender shawl knotted about her body, her
+scarlet skirt well slashed so as to show the gamboge petticoat
+beneath, and so short for all its purple frill as to display the
+clockwork of her variegated stockings, was carrying a black lamb,
+nestled like a baby in her arms; another walking rainbow bore a live
+turkey; and a lad, whose rosy-hued kerchief, shawl, and sash floated
+like sunrise clouds about him, balanced on his erect young head an
+immense basket of eggs. There was a pottery section, too,--square rods
+of cups, plates, and jars in all manner of russet tints and graceful
+shapes.
+
+The various divisions were intermingled and blent into one great
+open-air market, the cheeriest sort of neighborhood picnic, where
+gossip, jest, and laughter were accompanied by the cackling of fowls,
+braying of donkeys, and cooing of babies. Here fluttered a colony of
+bantams cast, their legs well tied, down on the cobble-stones; there
+stood carts laden with bunches of the yellowish dried heather; here
+two patient oxen had laid themselves out for a snooze; there a wicked
+little ass was blinking at the greens; here squatted a damsel in gold
+kerchief, garnet bodice, and beryl skirt, weighing out fresh figs;
+there sat a cobbler pegging away at his stall, his patrons waiting
+with bare feet while he mended their shoes; stands of cheeses, coops
+of chickens, children sleeping among the sacks of grain, a boy waving
+a rod on which was strung a gorgeous assortment of garters; loitering
+soldiers, limping beggars, bargaining ladies attended by their maids,
+all gave notes to the harmony. Yet with all that trampling, small
+weeds were growing green amid the slippery stones that pave the
+square.
+
+The Leon peasantry is said to be the finest in all Spain, and surely
+no concourse of people could have been more honest, courteous, and
+dignified than this. The women wore ornamented wallets beneath the
+skirt, and warned us gravely against carrying money in exposed
+pockets; but we moved freely among the press with notebook and kodak,
+always the centre of curious groups, and our purses were not touched.
+Indeed we found it difficult to spend even a _peseta_, so modest were
+the prices. For as large a jar as our little squire could well carry
+we paid the value of three cents. The men often rebuked the children
+for staring and questioning, but stood themselves at gaze, and asked
+us frankly what we were about. When we replied that we had never seen
+so beautiful a market, and were taking notes and photographs that we
+might not forget, the peasants smilingly passed the word from one side
+of the _plaza_ to the other, and all, even to the chief of police, who
+was strutting about waving an unnecessary staff, were eager to offer
+information and to point out picturesque subjects.
+
+But the morning was slipping away, and we had almost forgotten the
+oracle of a Spanish gentleman in Palencia: "Leon has three sights for
+the visitor, and only three--the Cathedral, San Isidoro, and San
+Marcos." We proceeded to take these illustrious churches in order. The
+Leon Cathedral, closely analogous to the Gothic masterpieces of
+northern France, is far beyond all poor praises of mine. Now in
+process of repair and stripped of the garish shrines of modern
+worship, it may be enjoyed purely as architecture--a temple of high
+beauty. Let artists tell of its towers and finials, flying buttresses,
+gables, cornices, galleries, piers, façades. Yet one need not be an
+artist to delight in the glow of its great rose windows, or to spend
+fascinated hours poring over the chiselled story book of portals,
+stalls, and cloisters. Such inimitable glass, burning still with the
+fervors of the mediæval faith! And such a world of divinity and
+humanity, even down to childish mischief, in those multitudinous
+carvings! The Passion scenes are repeated over and over, creation and
+judgment are there, the life, death, and ascension of the Virgin, hero
+legends, animal fables, and folk-lore. Gothic energy is abundantly
+manifest. St. George smites the dragon, St. Michael tramples the
+devil, Samson splits the lion's jaws, and Santiago, carved in ebony on
+a door in the mellow-hued old cloisters, is riding down the Moors
+with such contagious fury that the very tail of his horse is
+twisted into a ferocious quirk. On angel-guarded tombs pictures of
+ancient battle, murder, vengeance, are graven in the long-remembering
+stone. But marble birds peck at the marble fruit, the ivory peasant
+drives his pigs, the alabaster shepherd watches his flock, the lad
+leads his donkey, the monk feeds the poor at the abbey gates, and
+plump stone priests, stowed away in shadowy niches, make merry over
+the wine.
+
+  [Illustration: TOLEDO CATHEDRAL. DOOR OF LIONS]
+
+If we had revelled overmuch in the art values of the cathedral, San
+Isidoro administered a prompt corrective. This Romanesque church,
+dating from the beginning of the eleventh century and a forerunner of
+the Escorial in that it was founded by the first Fernando of Castile
+as a royal mausoleum, is excessively holy. Not merely are the bones of
+the patron saint kept on the high altar, but the Host is on constant
+exhibition there. Unaware of these especial sanctities, we were
+quietly walking toward the choir, when an angry clamor from behind
+caused us to turn, and there, stretching their heads out over the
+railing of an upper gallery, was a line of furious priests. In vain
+the sacristan strove to excuse us, "foreigners and ladies," who did
+not know that we were expected to fall upon our knees on first
+entering the door. We had been guilty of no irreverence beyond this
+omission, and even under the hail of priestly wrath did our best to
+withdraw correctly without turning our backs to the altar. But nothing
+would appease that scandalized row of gargoyles, whose violent
+rudeness seemed to us the greater desecration. Thus it was that we did
+not enter the frescoed chambers of the actual Panteon, said to be
+imposing yet, although the royal tombs were broken up by the French
+in 1808. Very wrong in the French, but unless the manners of San
+Isidoro's bodyguard have degenerated, the soldiers of Napoleon may
+have had their provocation.
+
+It was now high noon, and the market-place had poured all its peasants
+out upon the streets. Groups of them were lying at luncheon under the
+trees, passing the pigskin bottle of wine from mouth to mouth. Beggars
+were standing by and blessing them in return for scraps of the coarse
+and scanty fare. "May God repay! May the saints prosper thy harvest!"
+
+A woman riding home, sitting erect on the red-striped donkey-bag,
+handed a plum to her husband, who trudged beside her in gray linen
+trunks and green velveteen waistcoat, with a white square of cloth
+set, for ornament, into the middle of the back. He divided the fruit
+with a pleading cripple, who called after them as devoutly as a man
+with half a plum in his cheek well could, "May the Blessed Virgin ride
+forth with you and gladden all your way!"
+
+We had, because of the increasing heat, conjured up a carriage, a
+species of invalid stage-coach, and were therefore the envy of little
+schoolboys in blue pinafores. Their straw satchels bobbed on their
+backs as they gave chase to our clattering ark and clung to steps and
+door. This mode of locomotion did not save us time, for our coachman
+had domestic cares on his mind and drew up to bargain for a chicken,
+which finally mounted with a squall to the box seat; but in due
+Spanish season we stopped before the plateresque façade of San Marcos.
+
+This is a still unfinished convent, rich in artistic beauties and
+historic memories. Here, for instance, is a marvellously human head
+of St. Francis, a triumph of the polychrome sculpture, and here is the
+little cell where the poet Quevedo, "colossal genius of satire," was
+imprisoned for over three years by Philip IV, the patron of Velázquez.
+It is not so easy to cage a mocking-bird, though the satire-pencilled
+walls have been well whitewashed.
+
+But San Marcos was originally a hospital for pilgrims on the road to
+Compostela, and conch shells are the central ornamentation of arch and
+vault and frieze. We accepted the rebuke; we would loiter no more.
+Early that afternoon we took train for Coruña, after which some agency
+other than steam must transport us to the mediæval city of St. James.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+PILGRIMS OF SAINT JAMES
+
+     "In Galice at Seint Jame, and at Coloigne,
+     She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye."
+                          --CHAUCER: _Canterbury Tales_.
+
+     "Pilgrimes and palmers plihten hem to-gederes
+     For to seche Seint Jame."
+                          --LANGLAND: _Piers Plowman_.
+
+     "I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone."
+                   --SHAKESPEARE: _All's Well that Ends Well_.
+
+
+From Leon to Coruña is a journey of some eighteen hours by rail.
+Degenerate pilgrims that we were, we had taken a first-class carriage
+reserved for ladies, not so comfortable as the average third-class
+carriage on an English road. We hoped for space, at least, and
+solitude, but people who choose to pry into out-of-the-way corners of
+Spain need not expect to find any slavish deference to rights of place
+and property. The conductor had planned to dine and sleep in this
+particular compartment, which was a shade cleaner than the rest, and
+removed his kit from the rack with natural disappointment. Why should
+ladies be going to Galicia? But the general first-class compartment,
+next to ours, was unoccupied, and he resignedly transferred his
+belongings thither. The numerous third-class carriages were crowded
+with raw recruits, who had all jumped down, boy fashion, on the Leon
+platforms, and came scrambling back at the starting bell in noisiest
+confusion. Just as the train was puffing out, a station official threw
+open our door with a smiling, "Only to the next stop, ladies!" and
+precipitated upon us three belated warriors. We groaned inly with dark
+foreboding, for third-class occupancy of a first-class carriage is apt
+to leave lively souvenirs behind. Our three young soldiers, each with
+his personal effects bundled up in an enormous red and yellow
+handkerchief, were of the rudest peasant type, hardly lifted above
+animal and clod. Only one was able to spell out anything of the
+newspaper we offered. He labored over a large-lettered advertisement
+with grimy thumb, twisting brows, and muttering lips, but soon gave it
+up in sheer exhaustion. The hulking fellow beyond him was continually
+on the point of spitting,--a regular Spanish pastime in travel; but,
+determined that the carriage should not suffer that offence, I kept
+strict watch on this chrysalis hero, and embarrassed him into stark
+paralysis with questions on the landscape whenever he was quite
+prepared to fire. The third conscript was a ruddy, fair-haired boy of
+seventeen, who had in rudimentary form the social instincts of a
+Spaniard, and in his intervals of blue-eyed staring at the tawdry
+splendors about him hammered our ears with some harsh dialect, his one
+theme being the indignities and hardships of a Spanish soldier's lot.
+Yet dull as they were, and ignorant of railway customs, they knew
+enough to prefer broad cushions, whose variety of stains did not
+trouble their enviable simplicity, to the rough and narrow benches of
+the overcrowded third-class carriages, and at the "first stop" they
+unanimously forgot to change. But they were not unkindly lads, and
+after I had explained to them a dozen times or so that my friend was
+suffering from a headache and needed to lie down, and had,
+furthermore, lawlessly suggested that they could make themselves
+equally comfortable in the other first-class carriage, which was not
+"reserved for ladies," they promised to leave us at the second
+station; but their slow peasant hands fumbled at the door so clumsily
+that the train was under way again before the latch had yielded. It
+was not until we had been fellow-travellers for two or three hours
+that they finally stumbled into the neighboring compartment. From this
+the conductor, who had been blind and deaf to past proceedings,
+promptly ejected them, having no mind to let them make acquaintance
+with his wine bottle, and our poor exiles cast reproachful glances at
+us as they were hustled off to their own place.
+
+We have sometimes talked enthusiastically of democracy, but we did not
+discuss such exalted subjects then. Indeed, we had enough to do in
+guarding our doors, often by frank exercise of muscle, from further
+intrusion, and in trying to provide ourselves with food and water. A
+struggling mob of soldier boys besieged the refreshment stalls at
+every station, and drained the jars of the water-venders long before
+these could arrive at the car windows. At last, by a union of silver
+and violence, we succeeded in gaining from an astounded little girl,
+who was racing after the departing carriages, all her stock in trade,
+even the great russet jar itself, with its treasure of cold spring
+water. The historian possesses a special genius for cooking over an
+alcohol lamp on a rocking mountain train, and having augmented our
+knapsack stores with scalded milk and knobby bread from a tavern near
+one of the depots, we lived like feudal barons "of our own" for the
+rest of that memorable journey.
+
+Reminders of the pilgrims were all along our route. Overflowing as
+Santiago's young knights were with martial and romantic spirit, when
+the brigands did not give their steel sufficient sport they would
+break lances for the love of ladies or on any other conceivable
+pretext. We passed the bridge of twenty arches, where ten companions
+in arms once posted themselves for ten successive days, and challenged
+to the tilt every cavalier who came that way in journey to the
+Compostela jubilee.
+
+All the afternoon we were climbing into the hill-country. The waste
+slopes were starred with purple clumps of heather, and crossed by
+light-footed maids, who balanced great bunches of bracken on their
+heads. The patches of green valley, walled in by those barren steeps,
+held each a few tumble-down old houses, while elsewhere we noticed
+human dwellings that seemed scarcely more than nests of mud plastered
+to the stone. Yet the soil appeared to be cultivated with the most
+patient thrift,--wheat and potatoes growing wherever wheat and
+potatoes might. The view became a bewildering medley of Scottish
+hills, Italian skies, and Gothic castles, with occasionally a tawny
+and fantastic rock from the Garden of the Gods. The city of Astorga,
+whose cathedral was founded, so the pilgrims used to say, by St. James
+in his missionary tour, greeted us from the midst of the flinty hills.
+These are the home of a singular clan known as the Maragatos. They
+wear a distinctive dress, marry only among themselves, and turn a
+sullen look upon their neighbors.
+
+As night came on, the road grew so rough that we had to cork our
+precious water-jar with a plump lemon. The historian was sleeping off
+her headache, except as I woke her at the stations to aid in the
+defence of our ignoble luxury. We remembered that queen of Portugal
+who made the pilgrimage to Compostela on foot, begging her way. In the
+close-packed third-class carriages it must have been a cramped and
+weary night, and we did not wonder that young socialists occasionally
+tried to raid our fortress. But we clung stoutly to the door-handles,
+lustily sounding our war cry of "Ladies only" in lieu of "Santiago,"
+and early in the small hours had the shamefaced pleasure of seeing the
+herd of drowsy conscripts, with their red and yellow bundles, driven
+into another train, where they were tumbled two or three deep, the
+under layer struggling and protesting. One little fellow, nearly
+smothered in the hurly-burly about the steps, cried out pitifully; but
+the conductor silenced him with angry sarcasm: "Dost mean to be a
+soldier, thou? Or shall we put thee in a sugar-bowl and send thee back
+to mamma?"
+
+There was less need of sentry duty after this, but the night was too
+beautiful for sleep. We were crossing the wild Asturian mountains, the
+Alps of Spain, and a full moon was pouring down white lustre on crag,
+cascade, and gorge. By these perilous ways had streamed the
+many-bannered pilgrim hosts,--men and women of all countries and all
+tongues seeking the Jerusalem of the West. Each nation had its own
+hymn to Santiago, and these, sung to the mingled music of bagpipes,
+timbrels, bugles, flutes, and harps, must have pealed out strangely on
+many a silver night. The poor went begging of the rich, and often a
+mounted crusader cast his purse of broad gold pieces on the heather,
+trusting Santiago and his own good sword to see him through. Up and
+down these sheer ravines stumbled the blind and lame, sure of
+healing if only they could reach the shrine. Deaf and dumb went in the
+pilgrim ranks, the mad, the broken-hearted, the sin-oppressed; only
+the troop of lepers held apart. Some of those foot-sore wayfarers,
+most likely the raggedest of all, carried a secret treasure for the
+saint. Some staggered under penitential weights of lead and stone, and
+others bore loads of bars and fetters in token of captivity from which
+St. James had set them free.
+
+  [Illustration: ST. PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT]
+
+But these pathetic shapes no longer peopled the moonlight. Since it
+was the nineteenth century, a first-class passenger might as well lie
+down and watch the gracious progress of the moon across the heavens,--
+
+     "Oft, as if her head she bowed,
+     Stooping through a fleecy cloud."
+
+But the clouds perversely made of themselves wayside crosses, urns,
+cathedral towers; and just as one sky-creature, "backed like a weasel"
+but with the face of Santiago, began to puff a monstrous cigarette, I
+roused my dozing senses and discovered that we were entering Lugo, the
+capital of Galicia, and once, under Roman rule, of all Spain.
+
+This city of tumultuous history, stormed by one wild race after
+another, and twice sacked in our own century, first by the French and
+then by the Carlists, lay very peacefully under the white dawn. While
+the chivalrous Spanish sun rose unobtrusively, so as not to divert
+attention from the fading graces of the moon, the historian made
+sustaining coffee, and we tried to look as if we liked Galicia. This
+far northwestern province is the Boeotia of Spain; its stupid,
+patient peasantry are the butt of all the Peninsula, and to be called
+a Gallego is to be called a fool. The country, as we saw it from the
+train, was broken and hilly, but the Alpine majesty of Asturias was
+gone. In the misty drizzle of rain, which soon hushed the pipings of
+the birds, all the region looked wretchedly poor. It was a wooded,
+watered, well-tilled land, with tufts of heather brightly fringing
+every bank; but the houses were mere cabins, where great, gaunt,
+dark-colored pigs pushed in and out among bedraggled hens and
+half-clad children. Women were working in the fields by five o'clock
+in the morning, their saffron and carmine kerchiefs twisted into horns
+above the forehead. Women were serving as porters at the stations,
+carrying heavy trunks and loads of valises on their heads. Women were
+driving the plough, swinging the pickaxe in the quarries, mending the
+railway tracks. Short, stout, vigorous brownies they were, and most of
+them looked old.
+
+It was mid-forenoon when we reached Coruña, the seaport whence sailed
+the Invincible Armada. We had meant to rest there for the afternoon
+and night before undertaking the forty-mile drive to Santiago, but the
+hotel was so filthy that, tired as we were, there was nothing for it
+but to go on. Tarrying only for bath and breakfast, we took our places
+in a carriage which, setting out at one, promised to bring us into
+Santiago in time for the eight o'clock dinner.
+
+This conveyance was a species of narrow omnibus, which an Andalusian,
+an Englishman, a son of Compostela returning home after a long sojourn
+in foreign parts, his young wife of Jewish features, and our weary
+selves filled to overflowing. Our Jehu had agreed to transport the six
+of us, with our effects, for the sum of sixteen dollars; but deep was
+our disgust when he piled our handbags, shawl straps, and all our
+lesser properties in upon our wedged and helpless forms, and crammed
+six rough Gallegos, with a reeling load of trunks and boxes, on the
+roof. Remonstrance would be futile. The places in the regular
+diligence were not only taken for the afternoon but engaged for
+several days ahead, and carriages are rare birds in Galicia. The
+Spanish gentlemen merely shrugged their shoulders, the Englishman had
+but that morning landed in Spain and could not speak a word of the
+vernacular, and feminine protest was clearly out of order. The four
+puny horses took the top-heavy vehicle at a rattling pace down the
+granite-paved streets of Coruña, but hardly were we under way when our
+griefs began.
+
+On our arrival that forenoon, a fluent porter had over-persuaded us to
+leave our trunk at the station, letting him retain the check in order
+to have the baggage ready for us when we should pass the depot _en
+route_ for Santiago. We had been absent scarcely three hours, but
+meanwhile the trunk had disappeared. A dozen tatterdemalions ran
+hither and thither, making as much noise as possible, all the top
+fares shouted contradictory suggestions, and our porter, heaping
+Ossa-Pelions of execration upon the (absent) railroad officials,
+declared that they in their most reprobate stupidity had started the
+trunk on that eighteen-hour journey back to Leon. They were dolts and
+asses, the sons of imbecile mothers; but we had only to leave the
+check with him, and in the course of an indefinite number of
+"to-morrows" he would recover our property. We had grown sadder and
+wiser during the last five minutes, however, and insisted on taking
+that soiled inch of paper into our own keeping. At this the porter
+flew into a Spanish rage, flung back his fee into my lap, and so
+eloquently expressed himself that we left Coruña with stinging ears.
+
+It was the historian's trunk, stored with supplies for the camera, as
+well as with sundry alleviations of our pilgrim lot, but she put it in
+the category of spilled milk, and turned with heroic cheerfulness to
+enjoy the scenery. The horses had now drooped into the snail's pace
+which they consistently maintained through the rest of their long,
+uphill way, for the city of the Apostle stands on a high plateau. As
+we mounted more and more, Coruña, lying between bay and sea, still
+shone clear across the widening reach of smiling landscape. Maize and
+vines were everywhere. So were peasants, who trudged along in family
+troops toward Compostela. But whether afoot or astride donkeys of
+antique countenance, they could always outstrip our lumbering coach,
+and we were an easy prey for the hordes of childish bandits who chase
+vehicles for miles along the pilgrim road, shrieking for pennies in
+the name of Santiago.
+
+About two leagues out of Coruña we did pass something,--a group
+composed of a young Gallego and the most diminutive of donkeys. The
+peasant, walking beside his beast, was trying to balance across its
+back an object unwonted to those wilds.
+
+"Strange to see a steamer trunk here!" I remarked, turning to the
+historian; but she was already leaning out from the window, inspecting
+that label-speckled box with an eagle gaze.
+
+"It's mine!" she exclaimed, and in a twinkling had startled the driver
+into pulling up his horses, had leapt from the coach, and was running
+after the peasant, who, for his part, swerving abruptly from the main
+road, urged his panting donkey up a steep lane. Nobody believed her.
+Even I, her fellow-pilgrim, thought her wits were addling with our
+penitential fasts and vigils, and did not attempt to join in so mad a
+chase. As for the scandalized Spaniards, inside and out, they shouted
+angrily that the thing was impossible and the señora was to come back.
+The coachman roared loudest of all. But on she dashed, ran down her
+man, and bade him, in inspired Galician, bring that trunk to the
+omnibus at once. He scratched his head, smiled a child's innocent and
+trustful smile, and, like a true Gallego, did as he was told. By this
+time masculine curiosity had been too much for the driver and most of
+the fares, and they had scrambled after, so that the few of us who
+kept guard by the carriage presently beheld an imposing procession
+advancing along the road, consisting of a Galician peasant with a
+steamer trunk upon his head, a group of crestfallen Spaniards, and a
+Yankee lady, slightly flushed, attended by an applauding Englishman.
+
+Beyond a doubt it was her trunk. Her name was there, a New York hotel
+mark, which she had tried to obliterate with a blot of Leon ink, and
+the number corresponding to the number of our check. "By Jove!" said
+the Englishman. As for the peasant, he said even less, but in some way
+gave us to understand that he was taking the trunk to a gentleman from
+Madrid. Thinking that there might have been a confusion of checks in
+the station, we gave this childlike native a _peseta_ and a card with
+our Santiago address in case "the Madrid gentleman" should suspect us
+of highway robbery. Our fellow-passengers took the tale to Santiago,
+however; it made a graphic column in the local paper, and none of the
+several Spaniards who spoke to us of the matter there doubted that the
+trunk was stolen by collusion between the porter and the peasant.
+
+Our next adventure was more startling yet. The coachman had been
+heard, at intervals, vehemently expostulating with a roof passenger
+who wanted to get down. "Man alive! By the staff of Santiago! By your
+mother's head! By the Virgin of the Pillar!" Whether the malcontent
+had taken too much wine, whether he was under legal arrest, whether it
+was merely a crossing of whims, we could not learn from any of the
+impassioned actors in the drama; but, apparently, he found his
+opportunity to slip unnoticed off the coach. For suddenly the driver
+screamed to his horses, and, like a bolt from the blue, a handsome,
+athletic fellow leapt to the ground and rushed back along the dusty
+road, brandishing clenched fists and stamping his feet in frenzy. In
+mid-career he paused, struck a stage attitude, tore open his pink
+shirt, gasped, and shook with rage. "Irving isn't in it," quoth the
+Englishman. Then appeared, lurking by the roadside, a slouchy youth,
+on whom our tragic hero sprang like a tiger, threw him down, and stood
+panting over him with a gesture as if to stab. An instant later he had
+seized his victim by the collar, dragged him up, and was running him
+back to the coach. "You hurt me," wailed the truant, "and I don't want
+to go." But go he must, being bundled back in short order on the roof,
+where harmony seemed to be immediately restored. While the men were
+struggling, a lordly old peasant, stalking by, surveyed them with a
+peasant's high disdain. We had already noted the Irish look of the
+Galicians, but this magnificent patriarch, with dark green waistcoat
+over a light green shirt, old gold knickerbockers and crushed
+strawberry hose, had as Welsh a face, dark and clean-cut, as Snowdon
+ever saw.
+
+Long sunset shadows lay across the hills; we had shared with our
+companions our slight stores of sweet chocolate, bread, and wine, and
+still we were not halfway to Santiago. It was nine o'clock before our
+groaning equipage drew up at a wretched little inn, incredibly foul,
+where it was necessary to bait the exhausted horses. Mine host
+welcomed the party with pensive dignity, and served us, in the midst
+of all that squalor, with the manners of a melancholy count. Shutting
+eyes and noses as far as we could, and blessing eggs for shells and
+fruit for rind, we ate and gathered strength to bear what St. James
+might yet have in store for us.
+
+The diligence had resumed its weary jog; we were all more or less
+asleep, unconsciously using, in our crowded estate, one another as
+pillows, when an uproar from the box and a wild lurch of the coach
+brought us promptly to our waking senses. One of the wheel horses was
+down, and the others, frightened by the dragging harness, were rearing
+and plunging. Out we tumbled into the misty night, wondering if we
+were destined, after all, to foot it to Compostela in proper pilgrim
+fashion. The poor beast was mad with terror, and his struggles soon
+brought his mate to the ground beside him. The coachman, so pompous
+and dictatorial at the outset, stood helplessly in the road, at a safe
+distance, wringing his hands and crying like a baby: "Alas, poor me!
+Poor little me! O holy Virgin! Santiago!" The top fares, who had made
+good speed to _terra firma_, were wailing in unison and shrieking
+senseless counsels. "Kill thou the horse! Kill thou the horse!" one of
+them chanted like a Keltic dirge. The coachman supplied the antiphon:
+"Kill not my horse! Kill not my horse! _Ave Maria!_ Poor little me!"
+"Fools! Sit on his head," vociferated the Englishman in his vain
+vernacular. The horses seemed to have as many legs as centipedes,
+kicking all at once. The coach was toppling, the luggage pitching, and
+catastrophe appeared inevitable, when Santiago, such an excellent
+horseman himself, inspired one of the roof passengers to unbuckle a
+few straps. The effect was magical. First one nag, and then the other,
+struggled to its feet; the coachman sobbed anew, this time for joy;
+the Spanish gentlemen, who had been watching the scene with
+imperturbable passivity, crawled back into the diligence, the silent
+wife followed with the heavy bag which her husband had let her carry
+all the way, and the Anglo-Saxon contingent walked on ahead for half
+an hour to give the spent horses what little relief we might.
+
+The clocks were striking two when we reached the gates of the sacred
+city, where fresh hindrance met us. The customs officials were on the
+alert. Who were we that would creep into Compostela de Santiago under
+cover of night, in an irregular conveyance piled high with trunks and
+boxes? Smugglers, beyond a doubt! But they would teach us a thing or
+two. We might wait outside till morning.
+
+  [Illustration: MAIDS OF HONOR]
+
+Delighted boys from a peasant camp beyond the walls ran up to jeer at
+our predicament. Our coachman, reverting to his dolorous chant,
+appealed to all the saints. The top fares shrilled in on the chorus;
+the Spanish gentlemen lighted cigarettes, and after some twenty
+minutes of dramatic altercation, a soldier sprang on our top step and
+mounted guard, while the coach rattled through the gates and on to
+the _aduana_. Here we were deposited, bag and baggage, on the
+pavement, and a drowsy, half-clad old dignitary was brought forth to
+look at us. The coachman, all his social graces restored,
+imaginatively presented the three Anglo-Saxons as a French party
+travelling for pleasure. "But what am I to do with them?" groaned the
+dignitary, and went back to bed. An appalling group of _serenos_, in
+slouch hats and long black capes, with lanterns and with staffs topped
+by steel axes, escorted us into a sort of luggage room, and told us to
+sit down on benches. We sat on them for half an hour, which seemed to
+satisfy the ends of justice, for then the _serenos_ gave place to
+porters, who said they would bring us our property, which nobody had
+examined or noticed in the slightest, after daybreak, and would now
+show us the way to our hotel. Our farewell to the coachman, who came
+beaming up to shake hands and receive thanks, was cold.
+
+We had engaged rooms by letter a week in advance, but they had been
+surrendered to earlier arrivals, and we were conducted to a private
+house next door to the hotel. After the delays incident to waking an
+entire family, we were taken into a large, untidy room, furnished with
+dining table, sewing machine, and a half dozen decrepit chairs. There
+was no water and no sign of toilet apparatus, but in an adjoining dark
+closet were two narrow cots, from which the four daughters of the
+house had just been routed. Of those beds which these sleepy children
+were then, with unruffled sweetness and cheeriness, making ready for
+us, the less said the better. Our indoor hours in Compostela, an
+incessant battle against dirt, bad smells, and a most instructive
+variety of vermin, were a penance that must have met all pilgrim
+requirements. And yet these people spared no pains to make us
+comfortable, so far as they understood comfort. At our slightest call,
+were it only for a match, in would troop the mother, four daughters,
+maid, dog, and cat, with any of the neighbors who might be visiting,
+all eager to be of service. The girls were little models of sunny
+courtesy, and would have been as pretty of face as they were charming
+in manner, had not skin diseases and eye diseases told the tale of the
+hideously unsanitary conditions in which their young lives had been
+passed.
+
+But we had come to the festival of Santiago, and it was worth its
+price.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+THE BUILDING OF A SHRINE
+
+(A historical chapter, which should be skipped.)
+
+
+That most Spanish of Spaniards, Alarcón, is pleased in one of his
+roguish sketches to depict the waywardness of a certain poetaster.
+"Alonso Alonso was happy because he was thinking of many sad
+things,--of the past centuries, vanished like smoke, ... of the little
+span of life and of the absurdities with which it is filled, of the
+folly of wisdom, of the nothingness of ambition, of all this comedy,
+in short, which is played upon the earth."
+
+Alonso Alonso would be in his very element in Santiago de Compostela.
+The "unsubstantial pageant faded" of the mediæval world is more than
+memory there. It is a ghost that walks at certain seasons, notably
+from the twentieth to the twenty-eighth of July. The story of the
+birth, growth, and passing of that once so potent shrine, the
+Jerusalem of the West, is too significant for oblivion.
+
+The corner-stone of the strange history is priestly legend. The
+Apostle James the Greater, so runs the tale, after preaching in
+Damascus and along the Mediterranean coast, came in a Greek ship to
+Galicia, then under Roman rule, and proclaimed the gospel in its
+capital city, Iria-Flavia. Here the Virgin appeared to him, veiled,
+like the mother of Æneas, in a cloud, and bade him build a church.
+This he did, putting a bishop in charge, and then pursued his mission,
+not only in the remote parts of Galicia, but in Aragon, Castile, and
+Andalusia. At Saragossa the Virgin again flashed upon his sight. She
+was poised, this time, on a marble pillar, which she left behind her
+to become, what it is to-day, the most sacred object in all Spain. A
+chip of this _columna immobilis_ is one of the treasures of Toledo.
+The cathedral of the _Virgen del Pilar_,--affectionately known as
+Pilarica,--which James then founded at Saragossa, is still a popular
+goal of pilgrimage, the marble of the holy column being hollowed, at
+one unshielded spot, by countless millions of kisses. The Apostle, on
+his return to Jerusalem after seven years in Spain, was beheaded by
+Herod. Loyal disciples recovered the body and set sail with it for the
+Spanish coast. Off Portugal occurred the pointless "miracle of the
+shells." A gentleman was riding on the shore, when all at once his
+horse, refusing to obey the bit, leapt into the sea, walking on the
+crests of the waves toward the boat. Steed and rider suddenly sank,
+but promptly rose again, all crusted over with shells, which have been
+ever since regarded as the emblem of St. James in particular, and of
+pilgrim folk in general.
+
+     "How should I your true love know
+       From another one?
+     By his cockle hat and staff
+       And his sandal shoon."
+
+The Santiago "cockle," which thus, as a general pilgrim symbol,
+outstripped the keys of Rome and the cross of Jerusalem, is otherwise
+accounted for by a story that the body of St. James was borne overseas
+to Galicia in a shell of miraculous size, but this is not the version
+that was told us at the shrine.
+
+The two disciples, Theodore and Athanasius, temporarily interred their
+master in Padron, two leagues from Iria, until they should have
+obtained permission from the Roman dame who governed that region to
+allow St. James the choice of a resting-place. Her pagan heart was
+moved to graciousness, and she lent the disciples an ox-cart, in which
+they placed the body, leaving the beasts free to take the Apostle's
+course. It is hardly miraculous that, under the circumstances, Lady
+Lupa's oxen plodded straight back to Iria and came to a stop before
+her summer villa. Since this was so clearly indicated as the choice of
+the saint, she could do no less than put her house at his disposal. In
+the villa was a chapel to the war-god Janus, but when the body of
+Santiago was brought within the doors, this heathen image fell with a
+crash into a hundred fragments. Here the saint abode, guarded by his
+faithful disciples, until, in process of time, they slept beside him.
+The villa had been transformed into a little church, so little that,
+when the Imperial persecutions stormed over the Spanish provinces, the
+worshippers hid it under heaps of turf and tangles of brier bushes.
+Those early Christians of Iria were slain or scattered, and the burial
+place of St. James was forgotten of all the world.
+
+In the seventh century, a rumor went abroad that the Apostle James had
+preached the gospel in Spain. The legend grew until, in the year 813,
+a Galician anchorite beheld from the mouth of his cavern a brilliant
+star, which shone persistently above a certain bramble-wood in the
+outskirts of Iria. Moving lights, as of processional tapers, twinkled
+through the matted screen of shrubbery, and solemn chants arose from
+the very heart of the boscage. Word of this mystery came to the
+bishop, who saw with his own eyes "the glow of many candles through
+the shadows of the night." After three days of fasting, he led all the
+villagers in procession to the thicket which had grown up, a
+protecting hedge, about the ruins of the holy house. The three graves
+were found intact, and on opening the chief of these the bishop looked
+upon the body of St. James, as was proven not only by severed head and
+pilgrim staff, but by a Latin scroll. The swiftest horsemen of Galicia
+bore the glorious tidings to the court of the king, that most
+Christian monarch, Alfonso II, "very Catholic, a great almsgiver,
+defender of the Faith." So loved of heaven was this pious king, that
+once, when he had collected a treasure of gold and precious stones for
+the making of a cross, two angels, disguised as pilgrims, undertook
+the work. When, after a few hours, Alfonso came softly to the forge to
+make sure of their honesty and skill, no artisans were there, but from
+an exquisitely fashioned cross streamed a celestial glory. So devout a
+king, on hearing the great tidings from Galicia, lost no time in
+despatching couriers to his bishops and grandees, and all the pomp and
+pride of Spain, headed by majesty itself, flocked to the far-off
+hamlet beyond the Asturian mountains to adore the relics of Santiago.
+
+Now began grand doings in Iria, known henceforth as the Field of the
+Star, _Campus Stellæ_, or Compostela. Alfonso had a church of stone
+and clay built above the sepulchre, and endowed it with an estate of
+three square miles. The Pope announced the discovery to Christendom. A
+community of twelve monks, with a presiding abbot, was installed at
+Compostela to say masses before the shrine. For these beginnings of
+homage the Apostle made a munificent return. A wild people, living in
+a wild land at a wild time, these Spaniards of the Middle Ages were
+shaped and swayed by two sovereign impulses, piety and patriotism.
+These two were practically one, for patriotism meant the expulsion of
+the Moor, and piety, Cross above Koran. It was a life-and-death
+struggle. The dispossessed Christians, beaten back from Andalusia and
+Castile to the fastnesses of the northern mountains, were fighting
+against fearful odds. They felt sore need of a leader, for although,
+when their ranks were wavering, the Virgin had sometimes appeared to
+cheer them on, hers, after all, was but a woman's arm. It was in the
+battle of Clavijo, 846, that Santiago first flashed into view, an
+invincible champion of the cross.
+
+Rameiro, successor to Alfonso II, had taken the field against the
+terrible Abderrahman of Cordova, who had already overrun Valencia and
+Barcelona and was demanding from Galicia a yearly tribute of one
+hundred maidens. This exceedingly Moorish tax, which now amuses Madrid
+as a rattling farce in the summer theatre of the _Buen Retiro_, was no
+jesting matter then. Not only the most famous warriors of the realm,
+Bernardo del Carpio in their van, but shepherds and ploughmen,
+priests, monks, even bishops, flocked to the royal standard.
+
+     "A cry went through the mountains when the proud Moor drew near,
+     And trooping to Rameiro came every Christian spear;
+     The blesséd Saint Iago, they called upon his name:--
+     That day began our freedom, and wiped away our shame."
+
+The hosts of Cross and Crescent met in battle-shock near Logroño. Only
+nightfall saved the Christians from utter rout, but in those dark
+hours of their respite the apparition of Santiago bent above their
+sleeping king. "Fear not, Rameiro," said the august lips. "The enemy,
+master of the field, hems you in on every side, but God fights in your
+ranks." At sunrise, in the very moment when the Moslem host was bowed
+in prayer, the Christians, scandalized at the spectacle, charged in
+orthodox fury. Their onset was led by an unknown knight, gleaming in
+splendid panoply of war. Far in advance, his left hand waving a snowy
+banner stamped with a crimson cross, he spurred his fierce white horse
+full on the infidel army. His brandished sword "hurled lightning
+against the half-moon." At his every sweeping stroke, turbaned heads
+rolled off by scores to be trampled, as turbaned heads deserve, under
+the hoofs of that snorting steed. The Son of Thunder had found his
+function, which was nothing less than to inspirit the Reconquest.
+Henceforth he could always be counted on to lead a desperate assault,
+and "_Santiago y Cierra España!_" was the battle-cry of every
+hard-fought field. So late as 1212, at the crucial contest of Las
+Navas de Tolosa, the "Captain of the Spaniards" saved the day.
+
+Whatever may be thought of such bloody prowess on the part of Christ's
+disciple, the fisherman of Galilee, he could not have taken, in that
+stormy age, a surer course to make himself respected. All Europe
+sprang to do honor to a saint who could fight like that. Charlemagne,
+guided by the Milky Way, visited the shrine, if the famous old Codex
+Calixtinus may be believed, with its convincing print of the
+Apostle sitting upright in his coffin and pointing the great Karl to
+the starry trail. In process of time the Gran Capitan came bustling
+from Granada. The king of Jerusalem did not find the road too long,
+nor did the Pope of Rome count it too arduous. England sent her first
+royal Edward, and France more than one royal Louis. Counts and dukes,
+lords and barons, rode hundreds of miles to Compostela, at the head of
+feudal bands which sometimes clashed by the way. Saints of every clime
+and temper made the glorious pilgrimage,--Gregory, Bridget, Bernard,
+Francis of Assisi. To the shrine of St. James came the Cid in radiant
+youth to keep the vigil of arms and receive the honors of knighthood,
+and again, mounted on his peerless Bavieca, to give thanks for victory
+over the five Moorish kings. It was on this second journey that he
+succored the leper, inviting him, with heroic disdain of hygiene, to
+be his bedfellow "in a great couch with linen very clean and costly."
+
+  [Illustration: DANCING THE SEVILLANA]
+
+Even in the ninth century such multitudes visited the sepulchre that a
+society of hidalgos was formed to guard the pilgrims from bandits
+along that savage route, serve them as money-changers in Compostela,
+and in all possible ways protect them from robbery and ill-usage. This
+brotherhood gave birth to the famous Order of Santiago, whose two vows
+were to defend the pilgrims and fight the Mussulmans. These red-cross
+knights were as devout as they were valiant, "lambs at the sound of
+the church-bells and lions at the call of the trumpet." Kings and
+popes gave liberally to aid their work. Roads were cut through Spain
+and France, even Italy and Germany, "to Santiago." Forests were
+cleared, morasses drained, bridges built, and rest-houses instituted,
+as San Marcos at Leon and the celebrated hostelry of Roncesvalles.
+Compostela had become a populous city, but a city of inns, hospitals,
+and all variety of conventual and religious establishments. Even
+to-day it can count nearly three hundred altars. In the ninth century
+the modest church of Alfonso II was replaced by an ornate edifice rich
+in treasures, but in the gloomy tenth century, when Christian energies
+were arrested by the dread expectation of the end of the world, the
+Moors overran Galicia and laid the holy city waste. The Moslem
+general, Almanzor, had meant to shatter the urn of Santiago, but when
+he entered Compostela with his triumphant troops, he found only one
+defender there, an aged monk sitting silent on the Apostle's tomb. The
+magnanimous Moor did not molest him, nor the ashes his feebleness
+guarded better than strength, but took abundant booty. When Almanzor
+marched to the south again, four thousand Galician captives bore on
+their shoulders the treasures of the Apostle, even the church-bells
+and sculptured doors, to adorn the mosque of Cordova. The fresh
+courage of the eleventh century began the great Romanesque cathedral
+of Santiago. Donations poured in from all over Europe. Pilgrims came
+bowed under the weight of marble and granite blocks for the fabric.
+Young and old, men and women, beggars and peasants, princes and
+prelates, had a hand in the building, cutting short their prayers to
+mix mortar and hew stone. Artists from far-off lands, who had come on
+pilgrimage, lingered for years, often for lifetimes, in Compostela,
+making beautiful the dwelling of the saint.
+
+The great epoch of Santiago was the twelfth century, when there
+succeeded to the bishopric the able and ambitious Diego Gelmirez, who
+resolved that Compostela should be recognized as the religious centre
+of Spain, and be joined with Jerusalem and Rome in a trinity of the
+supreme shrines of Christendom. He was a man of masterly resource,
+persistence, pluck. Not too scrupulous for success, he found all means
+good that made toward the accomplishment of his one splendid dream.
+The clergy of Santiago, who had hitherto borne but dubious repute, he
+subjected to instruction and to discipline, calling learned priests
+from France to tutor them, and sending his own, as they developed
+promise, to sojourn in foreign monasteries. He zealously promoted the
+work on the cathedral, rearing arches proud as his aspiration, and
+watch-towers strong as his will. He invested the sacred ceremonies,
+especially the ecclesiastical processions, with extraordinary pomp, so
+that the figure of Alfonso VI, conqueror of Toledo, advancing through
+the basilica in such a solemn progress, appeared less imposing than
+the bishop himself, crowned with white mitre, sceptred with ivory
+staff, and treading in his gold-embroidered sandals upon the broad
+stones that pave the church as if on an imperial palace floor.
+Gelmirez was indefatigable, too, in building up the city. Eager to
+swell the flood of pilgrimage, he founded in Compostela, already a
+cluster of shrines and hostelries, still more churches, inns, asylums,
+hospitals, together with convents, libraries, schools, and all other
+recognized citadels of culture. He fought pestilence and dirt,
+introducing an excellent water supply, and promoting, so far as he
+knew how, decent and sanitary living. He was even a patron of
+agriculture, bringing home from his foreign journeys, which took him
+as far as Rome, packets of new seed slipped in among parcels of jewels
+and no less precious budgets of saintly molars and knuckle-bones. But
+these missions abroad, having always for chief object the pressing of
+his petition upon the Holy See, involved costly presents to
+influential prelates, especially the red-capped cardinals. The revenue
+for such bribes he wrung from the Galician peasantry, who gave him a
+measure of hate with every measure of grain. Gelmirez had so many uses
+for money that no wonder his taxes cut down to the quick. The lavish
+offerings sent by sea to the shrine of Santiago, ruby-crusted
+crucifixes of pure gold, silver reliquaries sparkling with emeralds
+and jacinths, pontifical vestments of richest tissue and of rarest
+artistry, well-chased vessels of onyx, pearl, and jasper, all that
+constant influx of glistening tribute from the length and breadth of
+Christendom, had drawn Moorish pirates to the Galician waters. To
+guard the treasure-ships, repel the infidels, and, incidentally,
+return tit for tat by plundering their galleys, the warrior bishop
+equipped a formidable fleet, and kept it on patrol off the coast,--a
+strange development from the little fishing-boat whence James and John
+trailed nets in the lake of Galilee.
+
+The audacity of Gelmirez reached its height in his struggle with the
+Queen Regent, Urraca of unlovely memory, for the control of the child
+king, Alfonso VII. This boy was the grandson of Alfonso VI, "Emperor
+of Spain," who survived all his legitimate children except Urraca. The
+father of the little Alfonso, Count Raymond of Burgundy, was dead, and
+Urraca had taken a second husband, Alfonso the Battle-maker. The
+situation was complicated. The Battle-maker wore the crowns of Aragon
+and Navarre, Urraca was queen of Leon and Castile, while the child, by
+his grandfather's will, inherited the lordship of Galicia. The Bishop
+of Santiago, who baptized the baby, had strenuously opposed Urraca's
+second marriage. As that lady had, nevertheless, gone her own wilful
+way, setting at naught the bishop's remonstrance and inciting Galicia
+to revolt against his tyranny, Gelmirez had kidnapped the royal child,
+a puzzled little majesty of four summers, and solemnly crowned and
+anointed him before the High Altar of St. James, declaring himself the
+protector of the young sovereign. Urraca soon wearied of her Aragonese
+bridegroom, and, casting him off, took up arms to defend her
+territories against his invasion. The powerful bishop came to her aid
+with men and money, but exacted in exchange an oath of faithful
+friendship, which Urraca gave and broke and gave again. Meanwhile the
+popular hatred swelled so high against Gelmirez that an open
+insurrection, in which many of his own clergy took part, drove him and
+the Queen to seek refuge in one of the cathedral towers, while the
+rebels burned and pillaged in the church below. The bishop barely
+escaped with his life, fleeing in disguise from Compostela; but soon
+the baffled conspirators saw him at his post again, punishing,
+pardoning, rebuilding--as indomitable as St. James himself. The
+election of Diego's friend, Calixtus II, to the papacy, gave him his
+supreme opportunity. Money was the prime requisite, and Gelmirez, not
+for the first nor second time, borrowed of the Apostle, selling
+treasures from the sacristy. The sums so raised were carried to the
+Pope, across the bandit-peopled mountains, by a canon of Santiago
+masquerading as a beggar, and by a trusty group of particularly ragged
+pilgrims. This proof of ecclesiastical ripeness overcame all papal
+scruples, and Calixtus, despite the clamor of enemies and rivals,
+raised Santiago to the coveted archbishopric.
+
+The first half of his great purpose effected, Gelmirez strove with
+renewed energy to wrest from Toledo the primacy of Spain. He fortified
+Galicia, hurled his fleet against Moorish and English pirates, built
+himself an archiepiscopal palace worthy of his hard-won dignities,
+stole from Portugal the skeletons of four saints to enhance the
+potency of Santiago, and made much of the skull of the Apostle James
+the Less, which Urraca had presented in one of her fits of amity. But
+this time the reverend robber was not destined to success. The
+Archbishop of Toledo formed a powerful party against him, Calixtus
+died, even the king, whom Gelmirez had armed knight in the cathedral
+of Santiago and had crowned a second time at Leon, grew restive under
+the dictation of his old tutor. The smouldering hatred of Galicia
+again flamed out. The aged archbishop once more had to see his church
+polluted, its treasures plundered, its marvels of carved work, stained
+glass, and gold-threaded vestments spoiled and wasted by that
+senseless rabble which had twisted out from under his heavy foot.
+Faint and bleeding from a wound in his head, too white a head, for all
+its pride, to be battered with stones, Gelmirez had almost fallen a
+victim to the mob, when two of his canons snatched him back to the
+refuge of the High Altar, barring the iron-latticed doors of the
+_Capilla Major_ against those savage sheep of his pasture. The outrage
+was so flagrant that, for very shame, pope and king, though both had
+accepted the bribes of his enemies, responded to his appeal, and
+assisted him to resume that rigorous sway which lasted, all told, for
+something like forty years.
+
+Such was the man and such the process that made the shrine of Santiago
+the third in rank of mediæval Christendom. Under the rule of Gelmirez
+Compostela had become one of the principal cities of the Peninsula, a
+seat of arts and sciences where Spanish nobles were proud to build
+them palaces and to educate their sons. The mighty influx of pilgrims,
+which went on without abatement century after century, nearly
+twenty-five hundred licenses being granted, in the single year 1434,
+to cockle-hatted visitors from England alone, filled the place with
+business. Inn-keepers, physicians, money-changers, merchants were in
+flourishing estate, and a number of special industries developed. One
+street was taken up by booths for the sale of polished shells. Another
+bears still the name of the jet-workers, whose rosaries, crucifixes,
+stars, gourds, staffs, and amulets were in high demand. Souvenirs of
+Santiago, little crosses delicately cut and chased, mimic churches,
+towers, shrines gave employ to scores of artists in silver and
+mother-of-pearl. The enormous revenue from the sale of phials of
+healing oil and from the consecrated candles must needs go to the
+Apostle, but the cunning craftsmen who loaded their stalls with
+love-charms had a well-nigh equal patronage.
+
+The finished cathedral was consecrated in 1211, and in 1236 the royal
+saint, Fernando III, sent to Compostela a train of Mohammedan
+captives, bringing back on their shoulders the bells Almanzor had
+taken. These had been hung, inverted, in the beautiful mosque of
+Cordova to serve as lamps for the infidel worship, but at last St.
+James had his own again. Thus Santiago trampled on the Moors, and his
+ashes, or what had passed for his ashes, slept in peace, with nothing
+to do but work miracles on blind and crippled pilgrims, until, in
+1589, an army of English heretics, led by the horrible Drake, landed
+in Galicia. These Lutheran dogs were not worthy of a miracle. The
+archbishop and his canons, with the enemy hammering on the gates of
+Compostela, hastily took up and reburied the three coffins of the
+original shrine, so secretly that they could not be found again. In
+1879, however, a miscellany of brittle bits of bone was brought to
+light by a party of determined seekers, and these repulsive fragments,
+after scientific analysis conducted in an ecclesiastical spirit, were
+declared to be portions of three skeletons which might be ages old.
+Leo XIII clenched the matter by "authenticating" one of them,
+apparently chosen at random, as the body of Santiago. But although for
+us of the perverse sects, the contents of that magnificent silver
+casket, the centre of the Santiago faith, could arouse no thrill of
+worship, the Pilgrim City itself and its storied, strange cathedral
+were the most impressive sights of Spain.
+
+  [Illustration: WITHIN THE CLOISTER]
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+THE SON OF THUNDER
+
+     "Thou shield of that faith which in Spain we revere,
+     Thou scourge of each foeman who dares to draw near,
+     Whom the Son of that God who the elements tames
+     Called child of the thunder, immortal Saint James."
+                --_Hymn to Santiago_, in George Borrow's translation.
+
+
+Fatigues of the journey and discomforts of our lodging melted from
+memory like shadows of the night when we found ourselves, on the
+morning of July twenty-fourth, before that rich, dark mass of fretted
+granite, a majestic church standing solitary in the midst of spreading
+_plazas_. These are surrounded by stately buildings, the
+archiepiscopal palace with its memories of Gelmirez, the royal
+hospital founded by Ferdinand and Isabella for the succor of weary
+pilgrims, ancient colleges with sculptured façades, marvellous old
+convents whose holy fathers were long since driven out by royal decree
+into hungry, homesick exile, and the columned city hall with its
+frontal relief of the battle of Clavijo and its crowning statue of St.
+James. The great, paved squares, the magnificent stairways and deeply
+recessed portals were aglow with all Galicia. Peasants in gala dress,
+bright as tropic birds, stood in deferential groups about the
+pilgrims, for there were actual pilgrims on the scene, men and women
+whose broad hats and round capes were sewn over with scallop-shells,
+and whose long staffs showed little gourds fastened to the upper end.
+They wore rosaries and crucifixes in profusion, and their habit was
+spangled with all manner of charms and amulets, especially the tinsel
+medals with their favorite device of St. James riding down the Moors.
+We bought at one of the stalls set up before the doors for sale of
+holy wares a memento of the famous old jet-work, a tiny black hand,
+warranted, if hung about the neck, to cure disorders of the eyes. We
+fell to chatting with a pilgrim who was shod in genuine sandal shoon.
+A large gourd was tied to his belt, the rim of his hat was turned up
+at one side and caught there with a rosy-tinted shell, and his long,
+black ringlets fell loose upon his shoulders, framing a romantic Dürer
+face. He talked with us in German, saying that he was of Wittemberg,
+and once a Lutheran, but had been converted to the true faith on a
+previous visit to Spain. Since then he had footed his penitential way
+to Jerusalem and other distant shrines. As his simple speech ran on,
+we seemed to see the mountains round about Santiago crossed by those
+converging streams of mediæval pilgrims, all dropping on their knees
+at the first glimpse of the cathedral towers. With that sight the
+fainting were refreshed, the lame ran, and jubilant songs of praise to
+Santiago rolled out in many languages upon the air.
+
+     "Primus ex apostolis,
+     Martir Jerusolinus,
+     Jacobus egregio,
+     Sacer est martirio."
+
+In those Ages of Faith all the gates of the city were choked with the
+incoming tide, the hostels and cure-houses overflowed, and the broad
+_plazas_ about the cathedral were filled with dense throngs of
+pilgrims, massed nation by nation, flying their national colors,
+singing their national hymns to the strangely blended music of their
+national instruments, and watching for the acolyte who summoned them,
+company by company, into the august presence-chamber of St. James. His
+shrine they approached only in posture of lowliest reverence. Even
+now, at the end of the nineteenth century, our first glance, as we
+entered the lofty, dim, and incense-perfumed nave, fell on a
+woman-pilgrim dragging herself painfully on her knees up the aisle
+toward the High Altar, and often falling prostrate to kiss the
+pavement with groans and tears.
+
+Mediæval pilgrims, when they had thus won their way to the entrance of
+the _Capilla Mayor_, and there received three light blows from a
+priestly rod in token of chastisement, were granted the due
+indulgences and, in turn, laid their offerings before the great white
+altar. Still there sits, in a niche above, the thirteenth-century
+image of St. James, a colossal figure wrought of red granite, with
+stiffly flowing vestments of elaborately figured gilt. His left hand
+grasps a silver staff, with gilded gourd atop, and his right, whose
+index finger points downward to the burial vault, holds a scroll
+inscribed, "Hic est corpus divi Jacobi Apostoli ac Hispaniarum
+Patroni." Once he wore a broad-brimmed hat all of pure gold, but this
+was melted down by Marshal Ney in the French invasion. At that time
+the sacred vessels were heaped like market produce into great
+ox-carts, until the cathedral had been plundered of ten hundredweight
+of treasure. It was "the end of the pilgrimage" to climb the steps
+behind this statue and kiss its resplendent silver cape, studded with
+cockle-shells and besprinkled with gems. But the pilgrims of the past
+had much more to see and worship,--the jewelled crown of the Apostle
+set upon the altar, his very hat and staff, the very axe that beheaded
+him, and other relics to which the attention of the modern tourist, at
+least, is not invited. Yet even we were conducted to the Romanesque
+crypt beneath the High Altar, where stands another altar of red
+marble, decorated by a relief of two peacocks drinking from a cup.
+This altar is surmounted by a bronze pedestal, which bears the
+sumptuous ark-shaped casket with its enshrined handfuls of dubious
+dust.
+
+Our latter-day pilgrims seemed well content with the measure of wealth
+and sanctity which Moorish sack and English piracy, French invasion
+and Carlist wars, had spared to the cathedral. In the matter of
+general relics, nevertheless, Santiago suffers by comparison with the
+neighbor cathedral of Oviedo, which proudly shows a silver-plated old
+reliquary, believed by the devout to have been brought in the earliest
+Christian times from Rome. This chest contains, in addition to the
+usual pieces of the true cross and thorns from the crown, such
+remarkable mementos as St. Peter's leathern wallet, crumbs left over
+from the Feeding of the Five Thousand, bits of roast fish and
+honeycomb from Emmaus, bread from the Last Supper, manna from the
+wilderness, a portion of Moses' rod and the mantle of Elijah. Oviedo
+possesses, too, that famous cross which the angels made for Alfonso
+II, and one of the six water-jars of Cana. But the relic chapel of
+Santiago makes up in quantity whatever it may lack in quality, holding
+bones, garments, hair-tresses, and like memorials of a veritable army
+of martyrs, even to what Ford disrespectfully calls "sundry parcels
+of the eleven thousand Virgins." Special stress is laid on a Calvary
+thorn which turns blood-red every Good Friday, and a drop, forever
+fresh, of the Madonna's milk. If pilgrims are not satisfied with
+these, they can walk out to Los Angeles, an adjacent village, whose
+church was built by the angels. Eccentric architects they were in
+choosing to connect their edifice with the cathedral of Santiago by an
+underground beam of pure gold, formerly one of the rafters in God's
+own house.
+
+We had speech of several pilgrims that first morning. One was a
+middle-aged, sun-browned, stubby little man, whom during the ensuing
+week we saw again and again in the cathedral, but never begging, with
+the most of the pilgrims, at the portals, nor taking his ease in the
+cloisters,--a social promenade where the laity came to gossip and the
+clergy to puff their cigarettes. This humble worshipper seemed to pass
+all the days of the festival in enraptured adoration, on his knees now
+before one shrine, now before another. We found him first facing the
+supreme architectural feature of the cathedral, that sublime and yet
+most lovely _Portico de la Gloria_. He was gazing up at its paradise
+of sculptured saints and angels, whose plumes and flowing robes still
+show traces of azure, rose, and gold, with an expression of naive
+ecstasy. He told us that he came from Astorga, and had been nine days
+on the way. He spent most of his time upon the road, he added,
+visiting especially the shrines of the Virgin. "Greatly it pleases me
+to worship God," he said, with sparkling eyes, and ran on eagerly, as
+long as we would listen, about the riches and splendors of different
+cathedrals, and especially the robes and jewels of the _Virgen del
+Pilar_. He seemed in his devout affection to make her wealth his own.
+One of the most touching effects of the scene was the childlike
+simplicity with which the poor of Galicia, coming from such vile
+hovels, felt themselves at home in the dwelling of their saint. Not
+even their sins marred their sense of welcome. In the cloisters we
+encountered an old woman in the pilgrim dress, her staff wound with
+gay ribbons, limping from her long jaunt. She told us frankly that she
+was "only a beggar" in her own village, and had come for the outing as
+well as to please the priest, who, objecting to certain misdemeanors
+which she had the discretion not to specify, had prescribed this
+excursion as penance. She was a lively old soul, and was amusing
+herself mightily with the Goya tapestries, and others, that adorned
+the cloisters in honor of the time. "You have a book and can read,"
+she said, "and you will understand it all, but what can I understand?
+I can see that this is a queen, and she is very fine, and that those
+are butchers who are killing a fat pig. But we who are poor may
+understand little in this world except the love of God." Others of the
+pilgrims were village folk of Portugal, and, taken all together, these
+modern wearers of the shell were but a sorry handful as representing
+those noble multitudes who came, in ages past, to bow before the
+shrine. The fourteen doors of the cathedral then stood open night and
+day, and the grotesque lions leaning out over the lintels could boast
+that there was no tongue of Europe which their stone ears had not
+heard. Three open doors suffice in the feast days now, but with the
+new flood of faith that has set toward Lourdes, pilgrimages to
+Santiago, as to other Latin shrines, are beginning to revive.
+
+Mass was over at the late hour of our arrival, but nave and aisles,
+transepts and cloisters, hummed with greetings of friends, laughter of
+children, who sported unrebuked about those stately columns, and the
+admiring exclamations of strangers. We were often accosted in Spanish
+and in French and asked from what country we came, and if we "loved
+the beautiful church of the Apostle." When we were occasionally
+cornered, and driven in truthfulness to say that we were Yankees, our
+more intelligent interlocutors looked us over with roguish scrutiny,
+but increased rather than abated their courtesies. As for the
+peasants, their geography is safely limited. Noticing that our Spanish
+differed from theirs, they said we must be from Castile, or, at the
+most, from Portugal. At all events we were strangers to Santiago, and
+they merrily vied with one another in showing us about and giving us
+much graphic information not to be found in guide-books.
+
+Much of their lore appears to be of their own invention. The superb
+_Puerta de la Gloria_, wrought by a then famous architect sent from
+the king of Leon, but known to us to-day only as Master Mateo, was the
+fruit of twenty years' labor. This triple porch, which runs across the
+west end of the nave, being finally completed, Master Mateo seems to
+have symbolized the dedication of his service to the Apostle in a
+kneeling statue of himself, facing the east, with back to the richly
+sculptured pillar of the chief portal. The head of this figure is worn
+almost as round and expressionless as a stone ball by the caresses of
+generations of childish hands. The little girls whom we watched that
+morning as they patted and smoothed the much-enduring pate told us,
+kissing the marble eyes, that this was a statue of St. Lucia, which it
+certainly is not. In another moment these restless midgets were
+assaulting, with fluent phrases of insult, the carven faces of certain
+fantastic images which form the bases of the clustered columns. The
+children derisively thrust their feet down the yawning throats, kicked
+the grotesque ears and noses, and in general so maltreated their
+Gothic victims that we were moved to remonstrate.
+
+"But why should you abuse them? What are these creatures, to be
+punished so?"
+
+"_They are Jews_," hissed our little Christians with an emphasis that
+threw new light on the Dreyfus _affaire_. But an instant more, and
+these vivacious, capricious bits of Spanish womanhood were all
+absorbed in aiding a blind old peasant who had groped her way to the
+sacred Portico for its especial privilege of prayer. The central
+shaft, dividing into two the chief of the three doorways, represents
+the Tree of Jesse, the patriarchal figures half-enveloped in
+exquisitely sculptured foliage. The chiselled capital shows the
+Trinity, Dove and Son and Father, with adoring angels. Above sits a
+benignant St. James, whose throne is guarded by lions, and over all,
+in the central tympanum of the sublime doorway, is a colossal figure
+of our Lord, uplifting His wounded hands. About Him are grouped the
+four Evangelists, radiant with eternal youth, and eight angels bearing
+the instruments of the Passion, the pillar of the scourging, whips,
+the crown of thorns, the nails, the scroll, the sponge, the spear, the
+cross. Other angels burn incense before Him, and the archivolt above
+is wrought with an ecstatic multitude of elders, martyrs, and saints,
+so vivid after all these centuries that one can almost hear the blithe
+music of their harps. It is the Christ of Paradise, enthroned amid the
+blest, to whom His presence gives fulness of joy forevermore. Above
+the lesser doors on either side are figured Purgatory and Hell. The
+fresh and glowing beauty, so piquant and yet so spiritual, the truly
+celestial charm of this marvellous Portico which Street did not fear
+to call "one of the greatest glories of Christian art," was never,
+during this festal week, without its throng of reverent beholders, the
+most waiting their turn, like our old blind peasant, to fit thumb and
+finger into certain curious little hollows on the central shaft, and
+thus offer prayer which was sure of answer. Minute after minute for
+unbroken hours, the hands succeeded one another there,--old, knotted,
+toilworn hands, the small, brown hands of children, jewelled hands of
+delicate ladies, and often, as now, the groping hand of blindness,
+with childish fingers helping it to find those mystical depressions in
+the agate. Some of the bystanders told us that St. James had descended
+from his seat above the capital, and laid his hand against the column,
+leaving these traces, but more would have it that the Christ Himself
+had come down by night from the great tympanum to place His wounded
+hand upon the shaft. Street records that he observed several such
+petitioners, after removing the hand, spit into the mouths of the
+winged dragons that serve as base to the pillar; but that literally
+dare-devil form of amen must now have gone out of fashion, for we did
+not see it once.
+
+  [Illustration: THE TRAMPLER OF THE MOORS]
+
+Toward noon we strolled out into the grand _plaza_ before the west
+façade and found it a multitudinous jam of expectant merrymakers. Even
+nuns were peeping down from a leaf-veiled balcony. We seemed to have
+been precipitated out of the Middle Ages into an exaggerated Fourth of
+July. All the city bells were pealing, rockets and Roman candles were
+sputtering, and grotesque fire-balloons, let off from a parapet of
+the cathedral, flourished bandy legs and "Sagasta noses" in the
+resigned old faces of the carven images. And then, amid the
+acclamations of all the small boys in the square, sallied forth the
+Santiago giants. These wickerwork monsters, eight all told, are
+supposed to represent worshippers from foreign lands. They go by
+couples, two being conventional pilgrims with "cockle-shell and sandal
+shoon"; two apparently Moors, with black complexions, feather crowns,
+and much barbaric finery; two nondescripts, possibly the French of
+feudal date; and two, the leaders and prime favorites, regular Punch
+caricatures of modern English tourists. John Bull is a stout old
+gentleman with gray side-whiskers, a vast expanse of broadcloth back,
+and a single eye-glass secured by a lavender ribbon. The British
+Matron, in a smart Dolly Varden frock, glares with a shocked
+expression from under flaxen puffs and an ostrich-feathered hat. The
+popular attitude of mind toward these absurdities is past all finding
+out. Not the children alone, but the entire assemblage greeted them
+with affectionate hilarity. The giants, propelled by men who walked
+inside them and grinned out on the world from a slit in the enormous
+waistbands, trundled about the square, followed by the antics of a
+rival group of dwarfs from the city hall, and then made the round of
+the principal streets, executing clumsy gambols before the public
+buildings.
+
+On the morning after, July twenty-fifth, the great day of the feast,
+anniversary of the Apostle's martyrdom, these same overgrown dolls
+played a prominent part in the solemn cathedral service. The Chapter
+passed in stately progress to the archbishop's palace to fetch his
+Eminence, and later to the ancient portals where the silver-workers
+once displayed their wares, to greet the Royal Delegate. At their head
+strutted this absurd array of giants. The High Mass was superb with
+orchestral music and the most sumptuous robes of the vestiary. The
+"King of Censers," the splendid _botafumeiro_ of fourteenth-century
+date, made so large, six feet high, with the view of purifying the
+cathedral air vitiated by the hordes of pilgrims who were wont to pass
+the night sleeping and praying on the holy pavements, flashed its
+majestic curves, a mighty fire bird, from roof to floor and from
+transept to transept. It is swung from the ceiling by an ingenious
+iron mechanism, and the leaping, roaring flames, as the huge censer
+sweeps with ever augmenting speed from vault to vault, tracing its
+path by a chain of perfumed wreaths, make the spectacle uniquely
+beautiful. Knights of Santiago, their white raiment marked by crimson
+sword and dagger, received from the Royal Delegate "a thousand crowns
+of gold," the annual state donation, instituted by Rameiro, to the
+patron saint. The Delegate, kneeling before the image of Santiago,
+prayed fervently that the Apostle would accept this offering of the
+regent, a queen no less devout than the famous mother of San Fernando,
+and would raise up Alfonso XIII to be another Fernando, winning back
+for Spain her ocean isles which the heretics had wrested away, even as
+Fernando restored to Compostela the cathedral doors and bell which the
+infidel Moors had stolen. His Eminence, who is said to have
+accumulated a fortune during his previous archbishopric in Cuba, in
+turn besought St. James to protect Catholic Spain against "those who
+invoke no right save brute force, and adore no deity except the golden
+calf." In most magnificent procession the silver casket was borne
+around the nave among the kneeling multitudes. And then, to crown
+these august ceremonies, forth trotted our friends, the giants, into
+the open space before the _Capilla Mayor_. Here the six subordinate
+boobies paused, grouping themselves in a ludicrous semicircle, while
+pompous John Bull and his ever scandalized British Matron went up into
+the Holy of Holies and danced, to the music of guitars and
+tambourines, in front of the High Altar.
+
+Every day of that festal week the cathedral services were attended by
+devout throngs, yet there was something blithe and social, well-nigh
+domestic, in the atmosphere of the scene even at the most impressive
+moments. Kneeling groups of peasant women caught the sunshine on their
+orange kerchiefs and scarlet-broidered shawls. Here a praying father
+would gather his little boy, sobbing with weariness, up against his
+breast; there a tired pilgrim woman slumbered in a corner, her broad
+hat with its cockle-shells lying on her knees. Rows of kneeling
+figures waited at the wooden confessionals which were thick set along
+both aisles and ambulatory. Several times we saw a priest asleep in
+the confessional, those who would pour out their hearts to him
+kneeling on in humble patience, not venturing to arouse the holy
+father. Young officers, leaning against the pillars, smiled upon a
+school of Spanish girls, who, guarded by veiled nuns, knelt far along
+the transept. Pilgrims, standing outside the door to gather alms, vied
+with one another in stories of their travels and the marvels they had
+seen.
+
+But at night, walking in the illuminated _alameda_, where thousands of
+Japanese lanterns and colored cups of flame made a fantastic
+fairyland, or dancing their country dances, singing their country
+songs, practising their country sports, and gazing with tireless
+delight at the fireworks in the spacious _Plaza de Alfonso Doce_, the
+worshippers gave themselves up to frankest merriment. Through the
+days, indeed, there was never any lack of noisy jollity. From dawn to
+dawn again cannon were booming, drums beating, bagpipes skirling,
+tambourines clattering, songs and cries resounding through the
+streets. Four patients in the hospital died the year before, we were
+told, from the direct effects of this continuous uproar. But the
+thunder height of the _fiesta_ is attained toward midnight on the
+twenty-fourth, the "Eve of Santiago," when rockets and fire-balloons
+are supplemented by such elaborate devices as the burning of
+"capricious trees" and the destruction of a Moorish façade built for
+the occasion out from the west front of the cathedral. At the first
+ignition of the powder there come such terrific crashes and
+reverberating detonations, such leaps and bursts of flame, that the
+peasant host sways back and the children scream. An Arabic doorway
+with ornate columns, flanked on either side by a wall of many arches
+and surmounted by a blood-red cross, dazzles out into overwhelming
+brilliancy, all in greens and purples, a glowing, scintillating, ever
+changing vision. Soon it is lustrous white and then, in perishing,
+sends up a swift succession of giant rockets. The façade itself is a
+very Alhambra of fret and arabesque. This, too, with thunder bursts
+reveals itself as a flame-colored, sky-colored, sea-colored miracle,
+which pales to gleaming silver and, while we read above it the
+resplendent words "The Patron of Spain," is blown to atoms as a symbol
+of Santiago's victory over the Moors. This makes an ideal Spanish
+holiday, but the cost, borne by the city, is heavy, there is distinct
+and increasing injury to the cathedral fabric, and all this jubilee
+for archaic victories over the Moslem seems to be mocked by the hard
+facts of to-day.
+
+The Santiago festivities, of which the half has not been told, closed
+on Thursday afternoon, July twenty-seventh, with a procession through
+the streets. We waited a weary while for it before the doors where the
+old jet-workers used to set their booths, amusing ourselves meantime
+by watching the house maids drawing water from the fountain in the
+square below. These sturdy Galicians were armed with long tin tubes
+which they dextrously applied to the spouting mouths of the fountain
+griffins, so directing the stream into the straight, iron-bound pails.
+Not far away the market women covered the flags with red and golden
+fruit. A saucy beggar-wench, with the blackest eyes in Spain, demanded
+alms, and when we had yielded up the usual toll of coppers, loudly
+prayed to Santiago to pardon us for not having given her more on this
+his holy festival. At last out sallied the band, followed by those
+inevitable giants, and amid mad ringing of bells and fizzing of
+invisible rockets, forth from the venerable portals issued standards,
+crosses, tapers, priests in white and gold, and platformed effigies of
+pilgrims, saints, and deities. Then came bishops, cardinals, and
+archbishop, ranks of military bearing tapers, the alcalde and his
+associates in the city government with antique escort of bedizened
+mace-bearers, a sparkling statue of St. James on horseback busily
+beheading his legions of Moors, a bodyguard of all the pilgrims in
+attendance on his saintship, and finally the _Virgen del Pilar_, at
+whose passing all the concourse fell upon their knees. Churches in the
+line of march had their own images decked and ready, waiting in the
+colonnaded porches to fall into the procession. The market women and
+the maids at the fountain threw kisses to the Christ Child, leaning in
+blue silk frock and white lace tucker against a cross of roses, but
+the boys waved their caps for St. Michael, debonair that he was with
+blowing crimson robe, real feather wings fluttering in the breeze, and
+his gold foot set on the greenest of dragons.
+
+The procession came home by way of the great west doors, opened only
+this once in the round year. The setting sun, bringing out all the
+carven beauty of that dark gray façade, glittered on the golden balls
+and crosses that tip the noble towers, and on the golden staff of St.
+James and the golden quill of St. John, where the two sons of thunder
+stand colossal in their lofty niches. A baby, in yellow kerchief and
+cherry skirt, toddling alone across the centre of the square, pointed
+with adoring little hand at the mounted image of Santiago, which
+halted at the foot of the grand stairway, his lifted sword a line of
+golden light, while the deep-voiced choir chanted his old triumphal
+hymn. John Bull and the British Matron, stationing themselves on
+either side as a guard of honor, stared at him with insular contempt.
+As the chant ceased, St. James chivalrously made way for the _Virgen
+del Pilar_, a slender figure of pure gold poised on an azure
+tabernacle, to mount the steps before him. The bells pealed out to
+welcome her as she neared the portals, and an ear-splitting explosion
+of a monster rocket, with a tempest-rain of sparks, announced the
+instant of her entrance beneath the chiselled arch. Behind her went
+the penitents, arduously climbing the long stone flights of that
+quadruple stairway upon their knees. These, too, were but shadows of
+those mediæval penitents who of old staggered after this procession,
+bowed under the weight of crosses, or scourging themselves until they
+fainted in their own trail of blood. Yet it is still strange and
+touching to see, long after the inner spaces of the cathedral are dim
+with evening, those kneeling figures making their painful progress
+about aisles and ambulatory, sobbing as they go, and falling forward
+on their faces to kiss the pavement that is bruising them.
+
+  [Illustration: SANTIAGO CATHEDRAL]
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+VIGO AND AWAY
+
+     Hasta la Vista!
+
+
+Our plan for the summer included a return trip across Spain, _via_
+Valladolid, Salamanca, and Saragossa to Barcelona and the Balearic
+Isles; but the bad food and worse lodging of Galicia, the blazing heat
+and the incessant, exhausting warfare against vermin, had begun to
+tell. That Spanish fever with which so many foreigners make too
+intimate acquaintance was at our doors, and we found ourselves forced
+at last to sacrifice enthusiasm to hygiene. The most eccentric train
+which it was ever my fortune to encounter shunted and switched us
+across country to Vigo in about the time it would have taken to make
+the journey donkeyback. Here we tarried for a week or so, gathering
+strength from the Atlantic breezes, and when, one sunny August day, a
+stately steamboat called for an hour at Vigo harbor on her way from
+Buenos Ayres to Southampton, we went up over the side. Our shock of
+astonishment at the cleanliness around us could not, however, divert
+our attention long from the receding shores of Spain, toward which one
+of us, at least, still felt a stubborn longing.
+
+They lay bright in the midday sunshine, those green uplands of
+Galicia, mysterious with that patient peasant life of which we had
+caught fleeting, baffling glimpses. Still we seemed to see the
+brown-legged women washing in the brook and spreading their
+coarse-spun, gay-bordered garments on the heather; children, with the
+faces of little Pats and little Biddies, tugging a bleating sheep
+across the stepping-stones, or boosting an indignant goat over the
+wall; lean pigs poking their noses out of the low, stone doorways,
+where babies slept on wisps of hay; girls in cream-colored kerchiefs,
+starred with gold, bearing loads of fragrant brush or corded fagots on
+their heads. As the evening should come on, and the sea-breeze stir
+the tassels of the maize, we knew how the fields would be dotted with
+impromptu groups of dancers, leaping higher and higher and waving
+their arms in ever wilder merriment,--a scene pastoral down to the
+pigs, and poetic up to those gushes of song that delight the listener.
+
+     "I went to the meadow
+       Day after day,
+     To gather the blossoms
+       Of April and May,
+     And there was Mercedes,
+       Always there,
+     Sweetest white lily
+       That breathes the air."
+
+     "North-wind, North-wind,
+       Strong as wine!
+     Blow thou, North-wind,
+       Comrade mine!"
+
+     "The Virgin is spreading handkerchiefs
+       On the rosemary to dry.
+     The little birds are singing,
+       And the brook is running by.
+
+     "The Virgin washes handkerchiefs,
+       And spreads them in the sun,
+     But St. Joseph, out of mischief,
+       Has stolen every one."
+
+It was only now and then that we had realized a touch of genuine
+fellowship with these Galician peasants. I remember a little
+thirteenth-century church, gray crosses topping its low gray towers,
+one of which was broken off as if a giant hand had snapped it. In the
+porch a white-headed woman, in a gold-edged blue kerchief and
+poppy-red skirt, was holding a dame-school. It took her all the
+morning session, she told us, to get the fifty faces washed, but in
+the afternoon the children learned to read and knit and play the
+choral games. She had ten cents a month for every child, when the
+parents were able to pay. From a convenient hollow in a pillar of
+Arabic tradition she proudly drew her library,--a shabby primer and a
+few loose leaves of a book of devotion. As we talked, the midgets grew
+so restless and inquisitive that she shook her long rod at them with a
+mighty show of fierceness, and shooed them out of the porch like so
+many chickens. Then she went on eagerly with the story of her life,
+telling how she was married at fifteen, how her husband went "to serve
+the king" in the second Carlist war, and never came back, and how her
+only daughter had borne nine children, of whom eight died in babyhood,
+"_angelitos al cielo_," having known on earth "only the day and the
+night." The last and youngest had been very ill with the fever, and
+the afflicted grandmother had promised that noble Roman maiden, the
+martyr saint of the little gray church, to go around the edifice seven
+times upon her knees, if only the child might live. The vow had been
+heard, as the presence of a thin-faced, wistful tot by the old woman's
+side attested, but so far only three of the seven circuits had been
+made. "It tires the knees much." But even with the words she knelt
+again, kissing the sacred threshold, and began the painful, heavy,
+shuffling journey around the church, while the baby, with wondering
+gray eyes, trotted beside her, clinging to the wrinkled hand. When at
+last, with puffs and groanings, the old dame had reached the carven
+doorway again, she rose wearily, rubbing her knees.
+
+"A sweet saint!" she said, "but _ay de mi!_ such gravel!"
+
+We ought, of course, to have been impressed in Galicia with its
+debasing ignorance and superstition, and so, to a certain extent, we
+were. We went to see a _romeria_, a pilgrimage to a hilltop shrine, on
+one of our last afternoons in Vigo, and found a double line of dirty,
+impudent beggars, stripped half naked, and displaying every sort of
+hideous deformity,--a line that reached all the way from the
+carriage-road up the rugged ascent to the crest. We had to run the
+gantlet, and it was like traversing a demoniac sculpture-gallery made
+up of human mockeries. We had to push our way, moreover, through scene
+after scene of vulgar barter in things divine, and when at last the
+summit was achieved, the shrine of the Virgin seemed robbed of its
+glory by the ugliness, vice, and misery it overlooked. Spain is
+mediæval, and the modern age can teach her much. But with all her
+physical foulness and mental folly, there still dwells in her that
+mediæval grace for which happier countries may be searched in vain.
+
+Yet Spain is far from unhappy. It is beautiful to see out of what
+scant allowance of that which we call well-being, may be evolved
+wisdom and joy, poetry and religion. Wearied as we two bookish
+travellers were with lectures and libraries, we rejoiced in this wild
+Galician lore that lives on the lips of the people. The written
+Spanish literature, like other Spanish arts, is of the richest, nor
+are its laurels limited to the dates of Cervantes and Calderon. The
+modern Spanish novel, for instance, as Mr. Howells so generously
+insists, all but leads the line. But Spain herself is poetry. What
+does one want of books in presence of her storied, haunted
+vistas,--warrior-trod Asturian crags, opalescent reaches of Castilian
+plain, orange-scented gardens of Andalusia? A circle of cultivated
+Spaniards is one of the most charming groups on earth, but Spaniards
+altogether innocent of formal education may be walking anthologies of
+old ballads, spicy quatrains, riddles, proverbs, fables, epigrams. The
+peasant quotes "Don Quixote" without knowing it; the donkey-boy is as
+lyric as Romeo; the devout shepherd tells a legend of the Madonna that
+is half the dream of his own lonely days among the hills. Where
+Spanish life is most stripped of material prosperity, it seems most to
+abound in suggestions of romance. This despised Galicia, the province
+of simpletons, is literary in its own way. The hovel has no bookshelf,
+but the children's ears drink in the grandmother's croon:--
+
+     "On a morning of St. John
+       Fell a sailor into the sea.
+     'What wilt thou give me, sailor, sailor,
+       If I rescue thee?'
+
+     "'I will give thee all my ships,
+       All my silver, every gem,
+     All my gold,--yea, wife and daughters,
+       I will give thee them.'
+
+     "'What care I for masted ships,
+       What care I for gold or gem?
+     Keep thy wife and keep thy daughters,
+       What care I for them?
+
+     "'On the morning of St. John
+       Thou art drowning in the sea.
+     Promise me thy soul at dying,
+       And I'll rescue thee.'
+
+     "'I commend the sea to God,
+       And my body to the sea,
+     And my soul, Sweet Mother Mary,
+       I commit to thee.'"
+
+And well it was for this bold mariner that he did not take up the
+Devil's offer, for everybody knows that those who have signed away
+their souls to the Devil turn black in the moment of dying, and are
+borne, black and horrible, to the sepulchre.
+
+In this northwestern corner of Spain are many mountain-songs as well
+as sea-songs. One of the sweetest tells how the blue-robed Virgin met
+a young shepherdess upon the hills and was so pleased with the
+maiden's courtesy that she straightway bore her thence to Paradise,
+not forgetting, this tender Mary of Bethlehem, to lead the flock
+safely back to the sheepfold. The love of the Galician peasantry for
+"Our Lady" blends childlike familiarity with impassioned devotion.
+
+     "As I was telling my beads,
+       While the dawn was red,
+     The Virgin came to greet me
+       With her arms outspread."
+
+Her rank in their affections is well suggested by another of the
+popular _coplas_.
+
+     "In the porch of Bethlehem,
+       Sun, Moon, and Star,
+     The Virgin, St. Joseph,
+       And the Christ Child are."
+
+With their saints these Spanish peasants seem almost on a household
+footing, not afraid of a jest because so sure of the love that
+underlies it.
+
+     "St. John and Mary Magdalen
+       Played hide and seek, the pair,
+     Till St. John threw a shoe at her,
+       Because she didn't play fair."
+
+Yet there is no lack of fear in this rustic religion. There is many a
+"shalt not" in the Galician decalogue. One must not try to count the
+stars, lest he come to have as many wrinkles as the number of stars he
+has counted. Never rock an empty cradle, for the next baby who sleeps
+in it will die. So often as you name the Devil in life, so often will
+he appear to you in the hour of death. If you hear another name him,
+call quickly, before the Devil has time to arrive, "Jesus is here." It
+is ill to dance alone, casting your shadow on the wall, because that
+is dancing with the Devil. But the Prince of Darkness is not the only
+supernatural being whom Galicians dread. There is a bleating demon who
+makes fun of them, cloudy giants who stir up thunderstorms, and are
+afraid only of St. Barbara, witches who cast the evil eye, but most of
+all the "souls in pain." For oftentimes the dead come back to earth
+for their purgatorial penance. You must never slam a door, nor close a
+window roughly, nor kick the smallest pebble from your path, because
+in door or stone or window may be a suffering soul. To see one is to
+die within the year. If you would not be haunted by your dead, kiss
+the shoes which the body wears to the burial.
+
+It is well to go early to bed, for at midnight all manner of evil
+beings prowl up and down the streets. Who has not heard of that
+unlucky woman, who, after spinning late and long, stepped to the
+window for a breath of air exactly at twelve o'clock? Far off across
+the open country she saw a strange procession of shining candles
+drawing nearer and nearer, although there were no hands to hold them
+and no sound of holy song. Straight toward her house came those
+uncanny lights, moving silently through the meadow mists, and halted
+beneath her window. Then the foremost one of all begged her to take it
+in and keep it carefully until the midnight following. Scarcely
+knowing what she did, she closed her fingers on the cold wax and,
+blowing out the flame, laid away the taper in a trunk, but when, at
+daybreak, after a sleepless night, she raised the lid, before her lay
+a corpse. Aghast, she fled to the priest, who lent her all the relics
+of the sacristy; but their united power only just availed to save her
+from the fury of the spirits when they returned at midnight to claim
+the taper, expecting, moreover, to seize upon the woman and "turn her
+to fire and ashes."
+
+Sometimes a poor soul is permitted to condense the slow ages of
+Purgatory into one hour of uttermost torment. Galicians tell how a
+young priest brought his serving-maid to sorrow and how, to escape the
+latter burning, she shut herself, one day when the priest was engaged
+in the ceremonial of High Mass, into the red-hot oven. On his return,
+he called her name and sought her high and low, and when, at last, he
+opened the oven door, out flew a white dove that soared, a purified
+and pardoned soul, into the blue of heaven. The science of this simple
+folk is not divorced from poetry and religion. The rainbow drinks,
+they say, in the sea and in the rivers. The Milky Way, the Road to
+Santiago, is trodden every night by pale, dim multitudes who failed to
+make that blessed pilgrimage, from which no one of us will be excused,
+in time of life. When the dust stirs in an empty house, good St. Ana
+is sweeping there. When babies look upward and laugh, they see the
+cherubs at play. Tuesday is the unlucky day in Spain, whereas children
+born on Friday receive the gift of second-sight, and those who enter
+the world on Good Friday are marked by a cross in the roof of the
+mouth and have the holy touch that cures diseases. It is a fortunate
+house beneath whose eaves the swallow builds,
+
+     "For swallows on Mount Calvary
+       Plucked tenderly away
+     From the brows of Christ two thousand thorns,
+       Such gracious birds are they."
+
+  [Illustration: ST. JAMES]
+
+The Galicians, butt of all Spain for their dulness, are shrewd enough
+in fact. It is said that those arrant knaves, the gypsies, dare not
+pass through Galicia for fear of being cheated. Like other unlettered
+peasants, Gallegos whet their wits on rhyming riddles.
+
+             "Who is the little pigeon,
+               Black and white together,
+             That speaks so well without a tongue
+               And flies without a feather?"
+
+     "A tree with twelve boughs and four nests on a bough,
+     In each nest seven birdlings,--unriddle me now."
+
+In many of their proverbial sayings one gets the Spanish tang at its
+best. "A well-filled stomach praises God."
+
+     "Why to Castile
+       For your fortune go?
+     A man's Castile
+       Is under his hoe."
+
+And I fear if my comrade were to speak, in Spanish phrase, of our
+return to Galicia, she would bid St. James expect us "on Judgment Day
+in the afternoon."
+
+
+
+
+     Works by Alice Morse Earle
+
+     CHILD LIFE IN COLONIAL DAYS
+
+     _Profusely Illustrated_
+
+     Crown 8vo. Cloth. Gilt top. $2.50
+
+
+Commercial Advertiser:
+
+"Once more Mrs. Earle has drawn on her apparently inexhaustible store
+of colonial lore, and has produced another interesting book of the
+olden days.... Mrs. Earle's interesting style, the accuracy of her
+statements, and the attractive illustrations she always supplies for
+her books make the volume one to be highly prized."
+
+Buffalo Express:
+
+"Mrs. Alice Morse Earle performs a real historical service, and writes
+an interesting book. It is not a compilation from, or condensation of,
+previous books, but the fruit of personal and original investigation
+into the conditions of life in the American colonies."
+
+
+     HOME LIFE IN COLONIAL DAYS
+
+Education:
+
+"Mrs. Earle has made a very careful study of the details of domestic
+life from the earliest days of the settlement of the country. The book
+is sumptuously illustrated, and every famed article, such as the
+spinning-wheel, the foot-stone, the brass knocker on the door, and the
+old-time cider mill, is here presented to the eye, and faithfully
+pictured in words. The volume is a fascinating one, and the vast army
+of admirers and students of the olden days will be grateful to the
+author for gathering together and putting into permanent form so much
+accurate information concerning the homes of our ancestors."
+
+Literature:
+
+"Mrs. Earle's fidelity in study and her patient research are evident
+on every page of this charming book, and her pleasantly colloquial
+style is frequently assisted by very beautiful illustrations, both of
+the houses of the colonists, from the primitive cave dug out of the
+hillside and made to answer for warmth and shelter, to the more
+comfortable log cabin, the farmstead with its adjacent buildings, and
+the stately mansion abiding to our own day."
+
+
+     THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+     66 FIFTH AVENUE NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+     AMONG ENGLISH HEDGEROWS
+
+     By CLIFTON JOHNSON
+
+     _With an Introduction by HAMILTON W. MABIE_
+
+     Illustrated. Cr. 8vo. Cloth extra. Gilt top. $2.25
+
+
+"'Among English Hedgerows' is one of the most beautiful of illustrated
+books, containing, as it does, a great number of half-tone
+reproductions of Mr. Johnson's admirable photographs.
+
+"The author, as far as possible, lived the life of the people who
+figure in these pages, and we have delightful accounts of village
+characters, and glimpses of quaint old English homes.
+
+"Hamilton W. Mabie, who furnishes the introduction, well summarizes
+Mr. Johnson's merits as 'a friendly eye, a hearty sympathy, and a very
+intelligent camera, and that love of his field and of his subject
+which is the prime characteristic of the successful painter of rural
+life and country folk.'"--_Illustrated Buffalo Express._
+
+
+
+
+     ALONG FRENCH BYWAYS
+
+     By CLIFTON JOHNSON
+
+     Illustrated. Cr. 8vo. Cloth extra. Gilt top. $2.25
+
+"A book of leisurely strolling through one of the most picturesque
+countries of Europe, enlivened with description and anecdote, and
+profusely illustrated.... Mr. Johnson is not only a delightful writer,
+but is one of the best landscape photographers of whom we have
+knowledge."--_Boston Transcript._
+
+"This book shares the merits of Mr. Johnson's 'Among English
+Hedgerows': simplicity of theme and treatment, sympathy and love of
+nature."--_The Mail and Express._
+
+"A book of strolling, a book of nature, a book of humble peasant life
+intermingled with the chance experiences of the narrator."--_The
+Worcester Spy._
+
+
+     THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+     66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Spanish Highways and Byways, by Katharine Lee Bates
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Spanish Highways and Byways, by Katharine Lee Bates.
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Spanish Highways and Byways, by Katharine Lee Bates
+
+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: Spanish Highways and Byways
+
+Author: Katharine Lee Bates
+
+Release Date: February 4, 2012 [EBook #38767]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPANISH HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<div class="tnbox">
+<p class="center"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></p>
+<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
+Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation in the original
+document have been preserved.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter p6">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h1 class="p6">SPANISH HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS</h1>
+
+<div class="figcenter p6">
+<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="126" height="44" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter p6"><a name="fp" id="fp"></a>
+<img src="images/i_004.jpg" width="616" height="413" alt="San Sebastian" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">San Sebastian</span></p>
+</div>
+<p class="b20 center p6">SPANISH HIGHWAYS<br />
+AND BYWAYS</p>
+<p class="center p4">BY<br />
+
+<span class="b13">KATHARINE LEE BATES</span><br />
+
+<i>Author of "American Literature"
+"The English Religious Drama," etc.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center p2">ILLUSTRATED WITH MANY
+ENGRAVINGS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS</p>
+<p class="center p4"><i>Published by</i> THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>New York <span class="smcap">Mcm</span></i></p>
+
+<p class="center">LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED</p>
+
+<p class="center p6"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1900,</span><br />
+<span>By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</span></p>
+
+<p class="center p4"><i>Norwood Press<br />
+J. S. Cushing &amp; Co.&mdash;Berwick &amp; Smith<br />
+Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center p6 b13">Madre Mia</p>
+
+<p class="center">AQUI TIENES TU LIBRO</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6">Preface</h2>
+
+<p>A tourist in Spain can hope to understand but little of
+that strange, deep-rooted, and complex life shut away beyond
+the Pyrenees. This book claims to be nothing more than a
+record of impressions. As such, whatever may be its errors,
+it should at least bear witness to the picturesque, poetic
+charm of the Peninsula and to the graciousness of Spanish
+manners.</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6">Contents</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">ix</a></span></p>
+<table summary="Table of Contents">
+<col width="50" />
+<col width="250" />
+<col width="100" />
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="s09">Chapter</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><span class="s09">Page</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">I.</td>
+<td class="tdl"> "The Lazy Spaniard"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">II.</td>
+<td class="tdl">A Continuous Carnival</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">III.</td>
+<td class="tdl">Within the Alhambra</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">IV.</td>
+<td class="tdl">A Function in Granada</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">V.</td>
+<td class="tdl">In Sight of the Giralda</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">VI.</td>
+<td class="tdl">Passion Week in Seville</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">VII.</td>
+<td class="tdl">Traces of the Inquisition</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">VIII.</td>
+<td class="tdl">An Andalusian Type</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">IX.</td>
+<td class="tdl">A Bull-fight</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">X.</td>
+<td class="tdl">Gypsies</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XI.</td>
+<td class="tdl">The Route of the Silver Fleets</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XII.</td>
+<td class="tdl">Murillo's Cherubs</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XIII.</td>
+<td class="tdl">The Yolk of the Spanish Egg</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XIV.</td>
+<td class="tdl">A Study in Contrasts</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XV.</td>
+<td class="tdl">The Patron Saint of Madrid</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XVI.</td>
+<td class="tdl">The Funeral of Castelar</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XVII.</td>
+<td class="tdl">The Immemorial Fashion</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdl">Corpus Christi in Toledo</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XIX.</td>
+<td class="tdl">The Tercentenary of Velázquez</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XX.</td>
+<td class="tdl">Choral Games of Spanish Children</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XXI.</td>
+<td class="tdl">"O la Señorita!"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_338">338</a>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">x</a></span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XXII.</td>
+<td class="tdl">Across the Basque Provinces</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_362">362</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XXIII.</td>
+<td class="tdl">In Old Castile</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_376">376</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XXIV.</td>
+<td class="tdl">Pilgrims of Saint James</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_394">394</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XXV.</td>
+<td class="tdl">The Building of a Shrine</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_409">409</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XXVI.</td>
+<td class="tdl">The Son of Thunder</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_423">423</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XXVII.</td>
+<td class="tdl">Vigo and Away</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_439">439</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<h2 class="p6">List of Illustrations</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">xi</a></span></p>
+
+<table summary="List of Illustrations">
+<col width="300" />
+<col width="100" />
+<tr>
+<td>San Sebastian</td>
+<td class="tdr"><i><a href="#fp">Frontispiece</a></i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr s09" colspan="2">Facing Page</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Pasajes</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_025">8</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+An Arab Gateway in Burgos</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_042">23</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Playing at Bull-fight. From painting by Bayeu</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_051">30</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Mosque of Cordova</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_062">39</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Columbus Monument in Granada</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_071">46</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Alhambra. Hall of Justice</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_082">55</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Filling the Water-jars</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_091">62</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Off for the War. From painting by Rubio</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_102">71</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Looking toward the Darro</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_111">78</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+A Milkman of Granada</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_136">101</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+A Roman Well in Ronda</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_149">112</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Giralda</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_170">131</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Passing of the Pageants</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_187">146</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Pageant of Gethsemane</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_210">167</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+"Jesus of the Passion"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_219">174</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+"Christ of the Seven Words"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_242">195</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Maria Santisima</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_259">210</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+A Spanish Monk. From painting by Zurbarán</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_266">215</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+A Seville Street</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_275">222</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+An Old-fashioned Bull-fight. From painting by Goya</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_298">243</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Bull-fight of To-day</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_315">258</a>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">xii</a></span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The King of the Gypsies</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_334">275</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Gypsy Tenants of an Arab Palace</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_351">290</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+From the Golden Tower down the Guadalquivír</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_374">311</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Cadiz, from the Sea</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_383">318</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Divine Shepherd. From painting by Murillo</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_406">339</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Royal Palace in Madrid</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_423">354</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Royal Family</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_430">359</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Manzanares</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_439">366</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+A Spanish Cemetery</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_450">375</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Toledo</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_459">382</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Toledo Cathedral. Puerta de los Leones</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_470">391</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+St. Paul, the first Hermit. From painting by Ribera</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_479">398</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Maids of Honor. From painting by Velázquez</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_490">407</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Dancing the Sevillana</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_499">414</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Within the Cloister</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_410">423</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+The Trampler of the Moors</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_519">430</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+Santiago Cathedral. Puerta de la Gloria</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_530">439</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+St. James. From painting by Murillo</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#i_539">446</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="p6 center b15">Spanish Highways and Byways</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">1</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p2">I</p>
+
+<p class="center">"THE LAZY SPANIARD"</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">"There is a difference between Peter and Peter."&mdash;<span class="smcap">Cervantes:</span> <i>Don Quixote</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">"S</span>pain is a contradiction," was the parting word of
+the Rev. William H. Gulick, the honored American
+missionary whose unwearied kindness looked after
+us, during the break in official representation, more effectively
+than a whole diplomatic corps. "Spanish blood is a strange
+<i>mezcla</i>, whose elements, Gothic, African, Oriental, are at war
+among themselves. You will find Spaniards tender and cruel,
+boastful and humble, frank and secretive, and all at once. It
+will be a journey of surprises."</p>
+
+<p>We were saying good-by, on February 4, 1899, to sunshiny
+Biarritz, whither Mrs. Gulick's school for Spanish girls
+had been spirited over the border at the outbreak of the war.
+Here we had found Spanish and American flags draped together,
+Spanish and American friendships holding fast, and a
+gallant little band of American teachers spending youth and
+strength in their patient campaign for conquering the Peninsula
+by a purer idea of truth. Rough Riders may be more
+pictorial, but hardly more heroic.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</a></span></p>
+
+<p>We were barely through the custom house, in itself the
+simplest and swiftest of operations, before the prophesied
+train of surprises began. One of our preconceived ideas
+went to wreck at the very outset on the industry of the
+Basque provinces. "The lazy Spaniard" has passed into a
+proverb. The round world knows his portrait&mdash;that broad
+<i>sombrero</i>, romantic cloak, and tilted cigarette. But the laborious
+Spaniard can no longer be ignored. Even at Biarritz we
+had to reckon with him, for the working population there is
+scarcely less Spanish than French. Everybody understands
+both languages as spoken, and it is a common thing to overhear
+animated dialogue where the talk is all Spanish on the
+one side and all French on the other. The war set streams of
+Spanish laborers flowing over the mountain bar into French
+territory. Young men fled from conscription, and fathers of
+families came under pressure of hard times. Skilled artisans,
+as masons and carpenters, could make in Biarritz a daily wage
+of five francs, the normal equivalent of five <i>pesetas</i>, or a
+dollar, while only the half of this was to be earned on their
+native side of the Pyrenees. Such, too, was the magic of
+exchange that these five francs, sent home, might transform
+themselves into ten, eight, or seven and a half <i>pesetas</i>. Even
+when we entered Spain, after the Paris Commission had
+risen, the rate of exchange was anything but stable, varying
+not merely from day to day, but from hour to hour, a difference
+of two or three per cent often occurring between
+morning and evening. The conditions that bore so heavily
+on the crafts were crushing the field laborers almost to starvation.
+In point of excessive toil, those peasants of northern
+Spain seemed to us worse off than Mr. Markham's "Man
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span>
+with the Hoe," for the rude mattock, centuries out of date,
+with which they break up the ground, involves the utmost
+bodily exertion. And by all that sweat of the brow, they
+were gaining, on an average, ten or twelve cents a day.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder that discontent clouded the land. We met
+this first at Pasajes, on one of the excursions arranged for our
+pleasure by the overflow goodness of that missionary garrison.
+The busiest of teachers had brought us&mdash;a young compatriot
+from a Paris studio and myself&mdash;so far as San Sebastian,
+where she lingered long enough to make us acquainted with
+a circle of friends, and, incidentally, with Pasajes. This
+Basque fishing hamlet is perched between hill and sea, with
+a single rough-paved street running the length of the village
+from the Church of St. Peter to the Church of St. John.
+Nature has not been chary of beauty here. The mountain-folded
+Bay of Pasajes appears at first view like an Alpine
+lake, but the presence of stately Dutch and Spanish merchantmen
+in these sapphire waters makes it evident that
+there must be an outlet to the ocean. Such a rift, in fact,
+was disclosed as the strong-armed old ferry woman rowed us
+across, a deep but narrow passage (hence the name) between
+sheer walls of rock, whose clefts and crannies thrill the most
+respectable tourist with longings to turn smuggler. The
+village clings with difficulty to its stony strip between steep
+and wave. On one side of that single street, the peering stone
+houses, some still showing faded coats of arms, are half embedded
+in the mountain, and on the other the tide beats
+perilously against the old foundation piles.</p>
+
+<p>Above the uneven roofs, on the precipitous hillside, sleep
+the dead, watched over by Santa Ana from her neglected hermitage.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span>
+Only once a year, on her own feast day, is her
+gorgeous altar cloth brought forth and her tall candles lighted,
+while the rats, who have been nibbling her gilded shoes and
+comparing the taste of the blues and crimsons in her painted
+robes, skurry into their holes at the unaccustomed sound of
+crowding feet. Pasajes boasts, too, a touch of historical
+dignity. From here Lafayette, gallant young Frenchman
+that he was, sailed for America, and probably then, as now,
+little Basque girls ran at the stranger's side with small hands
+full of wild flowers, and roguish Basque boys hid behind
+boulders and tried to frighten him by playing brigand, with
+a prodigious waving of thorn-branch guns and booming of
+vocal artillery.</p>
+
+<p>But not the joy of beauty nor the pride of ancient memory
+takes the place of bread. We approached a factory and asked
+of the workman at the entrance, "What do you manufacture
+here?" "What they manufacture in all Spain, nowadays,"
+he answered, "misery." This particular misery, however,
+had the form of tableware, the long rows of simple cups and
+plates and pitchers, in various stages of completion, being
+diversified by jaunty little images of the Basque ball players,
+whose game is famous throughout the Peninsula. We finally
+succeeded in purchasing one of these for fifteen cents, although
+the village was hard put to it to make change for a dollar, and
+was obliged, with grave apologies, to load us down with forty
+or so big Spanish coppers.</p>
+
+<p>"The lazy Spaniard!" Look at the very children as they
+romp about San Sebastian. This is the most aristocratic
+summer resort in Spain, the Queen Regent having a châlet on
+that artistic bay called the <i>Concha</i> or Shell. It is a crescent of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span>
+shimmering color, so dainty and so perfect, with guardian
+mountains of jasper and a fringe of diamond surf, that it is
+hard to believe it anything but a bit of magical jewel-work.
+It might be a city of fairyland, did not the clamor of childish
+voices continually break all dreamy spells. What energy and
+tireless activity! Up and down the streets, the cleanest
+streets in Spain, twinkle hundreds of little <i>alpargatas</i>, brightly
+embroidered canvas shoes with soles of plaited hemp. Spanish
+families are large, although from the ignorance of the mothers
+and the unsanitary condition of the homes, the mortality
+among the children is extreme. Here is a household, for
+example, where out of seventeen black-eyed babies but three
+have fought their way to maturity. Spanish parents are
+notably affectionate, but, in the poorer classes, at least, impatient
+in their discipline. It is the morning impulse of the
+busy mother, working at disadvantage in her small and
+crowded rooms, to clear them of the juvenile uproar by
+turning her noisy brood out of doors for the day. Surprisingly
+neat in their dress but often with nothing save cabbage
+in their young stomachs, forth they storm into the streets.
+Here the stranger may stand and watch them by the hour as
+they bow and circle, toss and tumble, dance and race through
+an enchanting variety of games. The most violent seem to
+please them best. Now and then a laughing girl stoops to
+whisk away the beads of perspiration from a little brother's
+shining face, but in general they are too rapt with the excitement
+of their sports to be aware of weariness. Such flashing
+of eyes and streaming of hair and jubilee of songs!</p>
+
+<p>One of their favorite games, for instance, is this: An especially
+active child, by preference a boy, takes the name of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span>
+<i>milano</i>, or kite, and throws himself down in some convenient
+doorway, as if asleep. The others form in Indian file, the
+<i>madre</i>, or mother, at the head, and the smallest girl, Mariquilla,
+last in line. The file proceeds to sing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<table summary="Kite_1">
+<col width="100" />
+<col width="300" />
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>"We are going to the garden,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>Although its wicked warden,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>Hungry early and late,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>Is crouching before the gate."</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>Then ensues a musical dialogue between the mother and
+Mariquilla:&mdash;</p>
+
+<table summary="Kite_2">
+<col width="100" />
+<col width="300" />
+<tr>
+<td><i>Mother.</i></td>
+<td>Little Mary in the rear!</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><i>Little Mary.</i></td>
+<td>What's your bidding, mother dear?</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><i>Mother.</i></td>
+<td>Tell me how the kite may thrive.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><i>Little Mary [after cautiously sidling up to the doorway and
+inspecting the prone figure there].</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>He's half dead and half alive.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>Then the file chants again:&mdash;</p>
+
+<table summary="Kite_3">
+<col width="100" />
+<col width="300" />
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>"We are going to the garden,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>Although its wicked warden,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>Hungry early and late,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>Is crouching before the gate."</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><i>Mother.</i></td>
+<td>Little Mary in the rear!</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><i>Little Mary.</i></td>
+<td>What's your bidding, mother dear?</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><i>Mother.</i></td>
+<td>Of the kite I bid you speak.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><i>Little Mary [after a second reconnoissance, which sends her
+scampering back to her own place].</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>He whets his claws and whets his beak.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span>
+Here the enemy advances, beating a most appalling tattoo:&mdash;</p>
+
+<table summary="Kite_4">
+<col width="100" />
+<col width="300" />
+<tr>
+<td><i>Kite.</i></td>
+<td>Pum, pum! Tat, tat!</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><i>Mother.</i></td>
+<td>Who is here and what is that?</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><i>Kite.</i></td>
+<td>'Tis the kite.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><i>Mother.</i></td>
+<td class="tdr">What seeks the kite?</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><i>Kite.</i></td>
+<td>Human flesh! A bite, a bite!</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><i>Mother.</i></td>
+<td>You must catch before you dine.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>Children, children, keep the line!</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>And with this the dauntless parent, abandoning song for
+action, darts with outspread arms in front of the robber, who
+bends all his energies to reaching and snatching away Little
+Mary. The entire line, keeping rank, curves and twists
+behind the leader, all intent on protecting that poor midget
+at the end. And when the wild frolic has resulted in her
+capture, and every child is panting with fatigue, they straightway
+resume their original positions and play it all over again.
+In Seville this game takes on a religious variation, the kite
+becoming the Devil, and the <i>madre</i> the angel Michael defending
+a troop of souls. In Cuba we have a hawk pitted against
+a hen with her brood of chickens.</p>
+
+<p>We stepped into a Protestant Kindergarten one day to see
+how such stirring atoms of humanity might demean themselves
+in school. Talk of little pitchers! Here were some
+twoscore tiny jugs, bubbling full of mischief, with one bright,
+sympathetic girl of twenty-two keeping a finger on every
+dancing lid. Impossible, of course! But all her week's
+work looked to us impossible. We had known diligent
+teachers in the United States; this "lazy Spaniard," however,
+not only keeps her Kindergarten well in hand from nine to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span>
+twelve, but instructs the same restless mites&mdash;so many of
+them as do not fall into a baby-sleep over their desks&mdash;in
+reading and counting from two to four, gives a Spanish lesson
+from six to seven, and struggles with the pathetic ignorance
+of grown men and women in the night school from eight to
+half-past nine or ten.</p>
+
+<p>The Spanish pastor and his wife, also teachers in day
+school, night school, Sunday school, are no less marvels of
+industry. The multiplication table, lustily intoned to the
+tramp of marching feet, called us into a class-room where the
+older girls were gathered for lessons in reading and writing,
+arithmetic and geography, sewing and embroidery. The delicate
+little lady who presides over this lively kingdom may be
+seen on Sunday, seated at the melodeon, leading the chapel
+music&mdash;an exquisite picture of a Spanish señora, with the
+lace mantilla crowning the black hair and gracefully falling to
+the slender shoulders. We had heard her give an address on
+foreign soil, before an audience of a hundred strangers, speaking
+with an irresistible fervor of appeal, and no less charming
+was she at the head of her own table, the soul of vivacious
+and winsome hospitality.</p>
+
+<p>As for the pastor himself, he carries the administrative
+burdens of church and school, teaches the larger boys morning
+and afternoon, and the men in the evening, preaches once
+on Thursday and twice on Sunday, and slips in between these
+stated tasks all the innumerable incidental duties of a missionary
+pastorate. And yet this man of many labors is not only
+Spanish, but Philippine. His childhood was passed at Cavite,
+the home of his father, a Spanish officer, who had chosen his
+bride from a native family. The boy was put to school with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span>
+the friars at Manila, where, rather to the disgust of the soldier-father,
+he formed the desire to enter the brotherhood. He
+was not blind&mdash;what students are?&mdash;to the blemishes of his
+teachers. He had often stood by with the other lads and
+shouted with laughter to see a group of friars, their cassocks
+well girded up, drive a pig into their shallow pond and stab
+the plunging creature there, that it might be counted "fish"
+and serve them for dinner on Friday. But his faith in the
+order held firm, and, when his novitiate was well advanced,
+he was sent to Madrid for the final ceremonies. Here, by
+chance, he dropped into a Protestant service, and after
+several years of examination and indecision, chose the thorny
+road.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 635px;"><a name="i_025" id="i_025"></a>
+<img src="images/i_025.jpg" width="635" height="424" alt="Pasajes" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Pasajes</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>All his wearing occupations do not dull that fine sense of
+courtesy inherent in a Spanish gentleman. The sun itself
+had hardly risen when we departed from San Sebastian, yet
+we found Don Angel at the station, muffled in the inevitable
+Spanish <i>capa</i>, to say good-by once more and assure us that,
+come what might, we had always "a house and a friend in
+Spain." We laid down the local journal, hard reading that
+it was with its denunciations of "the inhuman barbarities of
+the North Americans toward the Filipinos," and ventured to
+ask for his own view of the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"The United States," he answered, speaking modestly and
+very gently, "means well and has, in the main, done well.
+When I say this in the Casino, men get angry and call me a
+Yankee filibuster. But in truth the Philippines are very dear
+to me and I carry a sad heart. It was the protocol that did
+the mischief. It is not easy for simple islanders to understand
+that words may say one thing and mean another. Philippine
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span>
+faith in American promises is broken. And red is a
+hard color to wash out. Yet I still hope that, when the days
+of slaughter are over, peace and life may finally come to my
+unhappy birthplace from your great nation. The Tagalos
+are not so worthless as Americans seem to think, though the
+climate of the Philippines, like that of Andalusia, tempts to
+indolence. But strong motives make good workers everywhere."</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">II</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">A CONTINUOUS CARNIVAL</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">
+"This periodical explosion of freedom and folly."&mdash;<span class="smcap">Becquer</span>: <i>El Carnaval</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">H</span>aving re-formed our concept of a Spaniard to admit
+the elements of natural vigor and determined diligence,
+we were surprised again to find this tragic
+nation, whose fresh grief and shame had almost deterred us
+from the indelicacy of intrusion, entering with eager zest into
+the wild fun of Carnival. Sorrow was still fresh for the eighty
+thousand dead in Cuba, the hapless prisoners in the Philippines,
+the wretched <i>repatriados</i> landed, cargo after cargo, at
+ports where some were suffered to perish in the streets.
+Every household had its tale of loss; yet, notwithstanding
+all the troubles of the time, Spain must keep her Carnival.
+"It is one of the saddest and most disheartening features of
+the situation," said a Spaniard to us. "There is no earnestness
+here, no realization of the national crisis. The politicians
+care for nothing but to enrich themselves, and the
+people, as you see, care for nothing but to divert themselves."</p>
+
+<p>Yet we looked from the madcap crowd to the closed
+shutters, keeping their secrets of heartbreak, and remembered
+the words of Zorrilla, "Where there is one who laughs,
+there is ever another who weeps in the great Carnival of our
+life."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The parks of San Sebastian were gay with maskers and
+music, tickling brushes and showers of <i>confetti</i>, on our last
+day there, but the peculiar feature of the festivity in this
+Basque city is "the baiting of the ox." On that Carnival-Sunday
+afternoon we found ourselves looking down, from a
+safe balcony, upon the old <i>Plaza de la Constitución</i>, with its
+arcaded sides. The genuine bull-fights, which used to take
+place here, have now a handsome amphitheatre of their own,
+where, when the summer has brought the court to San Sebastian,
+the choicest Andalusian bulls crimson the sand of the
+arena. But the <i>Plaza de la Constitución</i>, mindful of its pristine
+glory, still furnishes what cheap suggestions it can of the
+terrible play. The square below was crowded with men and
+boys, and even some hoydenish girls, many in fantastic masks
+and gaudy dominos, while the tiers of balconies were thronged
+with eager spectators. A strange and savage peal of music
+announced that "the bull" was coming. That music was
+enough to make the hereditary barbarian beat in any heart,
+but "the bull"! At the further corner of the <i>plaza</i>, pulled
+by a long rope and driven by a yelling rabble, came in, at a
+clumsy gallop, an astonished and scandalized old ox. Never
+did living creature bear a meeker and less resentful temper.</p>
+
+<p>At first, beaten and pricked by his tormentors, he tore
+blindly round and round the <i>plaza</i>, the long rope by which
+he was held dragging behind him, and sometimes, as he
+wheeled about, tripping up and overturning a bunch of the
+merrymakers. This was a joy to the balconies, but did not
+often happen, as the people below showed a marvellous dexterity
+in skipping over the rope just in time to escape its swinging
+blow. Sometimes the poor, stupid beast entangled his own legs,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span>
+and that, too, was a source of noisy glee. But, on the whole, he
+was a disappointing and inglorious ox. He caused no serious
+accident. Nothing could ruffle his disposition. The scarlet
+cloaks waved in his eyes he regarded with courteous interest;
+he wore only a look of grieved surprise when he was slapped
+across the face with red and yellow banners; tweaks of the
+tail he endured like a Socrates, but now and then a cruel
+prod from a sharp stick would make him lower his horns and
+rush, for an instant, upon the nearest offender. The balconies
+would shout with the hope of something vicious and
+violent at last, but the mobile crowd beneath would close in
+between the ox and his assailant, a hundred fresh insults
+would divert his attention, and indeed, his own impulses of
+wrath were of the shortest. To the end he was hardly an
+angry ox&mdash;only a puzzled, baffled, weary old creature who
+could not make out, for the life of him, into what sort of red
+and yellow pasture and among what kind of buzzing hornets
+his unlucky hoofs had strayed.</p>
+
+<p>Finally he gave the enigma up and stood wrapped in a
+brown study among his emboldened enemies, who clung to his
+horns and tail, tossed children upon his back, tickled his nostrils
+with their hat brims, and showered him with indignities. The
+balconies joined in hooting him out of the <i>plaza</i>, but he was
+so pleased to go that I doubt if human scorn of his beastly
+gentleness really interfered with his appetite for supper. He
+trotted away to that rude clang of music, the babies who were
+dancing to it on their nurses' arms not more harmless than
+he. And although that worrying half hour may have told
+upon his nerves, and his legs may have ached for the unaccustomed
+exercise, no blood was to be seen upon him. It
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span>
+was all a rough-and-tumble romp, nothing worse, but the
+balconies would have liked it better had it been flavored with
+a broken leg or two. A few sprawlings over the rope really
+amounted to so little. But the <i>toro de fuego</i> was to come
+there Tuesday evening, and when this blazing pasteboard bull,
+with fireworks spluttering all over him from horns to tail, is
+dragged about among the throng, there is always a fine chance
+of explosions, burnings, and even of blindings for life.</p>
+
+<p>But Carnival Tuesday found us no longer in sunny San
+Sebastian. We were shivering over a <i>brasero</i> in storied
+Burgos, a city chill as if with the very breath of the past.
+And the Spanish <i>brasero</i>, a great brass pan holding a pudding
+of ashes, plummed with sparks, under a wire screen, is the
+coldest comfort, the most hypocritical heater, that has yet
+come my way.</p>
+
+<p>Our Monday had been spent in a marvellous journey
+through the Pyrenees, whose rugged sublimities were bathed
+in the very blue of Velázquez, a cold, clear, glorious blue
+expanding all the soul. These are haunted mountains, with
+wild legends of lonely castles, where fierce old chieftains,
+beaten back by the Franks, shut themselves in with their
+treasure and died like wounded lions in their lairs. We
+passed fallen towers from whose summits mediæval heralds
+had trumpeted the signal for war, ruined convents whence
+the sound of woman's chanting was wont to startle the
+wolves of the forest, mysterious lakes deep in whose waters
+are said to shine golden crowns set with nine precious pearls&mdash;those
+ducal coronets that Rome bestowed upon her vassals&mdash;craggy
+paths once trod by pilgrims, hermits, jugglers,
+minstrels, and knights-errant, and shadowy pine groves where,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span>
+when the wind is high, the shepherds still hear the weeping
+ghost of the cruel princess, whose beauty and disdain slew
+dozens of men a day until her love was won and scorned, so
+that she died of longing.</p>
+
+<p>We had reached Burgos at dusk and, without pausing for
+rest or food, had sallied out for our first awe-stricken gaze up
+at the far-famed cathedral towers, then had ignominiously
+lost our way over and over in the narrow, crooked streets and
+been finally marched back to our hotel by a compassionate,
+though contemptuous, policeman. My artist comrade was
+fairly ill by morning with a heavy cold, but she would not
+hear of missing the cathedral and sneezed three or four
+enraptured hours away in its chill magnificence. As we
+came to know Spanish and Spaniards better, they would
+exclaim "<i>Jesús, Maria y José!</i>" when we sneezed, that
+the evil spirit given to tickling noses might take flight; but
+the Burgos sacristan was too keen to waste these amenities
+on stammering heretics. What we thought of the cathedral
+is little to the purpose of this chapter. In a word, however,
+we thought nothing at all; we only felt. It was our first
+introduction to one of the monster churches of Spain, and its
+very greatness, the terrible weight of all that antiquity,
+sanctity, and beauty, crushed our understanding. Like sleepwalkers
+we followed our guide down the frozen length of
+nave and aisles and cloisters; we went the round of the
+fifteen chapels, splendid presence-chambers where the dead
+keep sculptured state; we looked, as we were bidden, on the
+worm-eaten treasure-chest of the Cid, on the clock whose
+life-sized tenant, Papa-Moscas, used to scream the hours to
+the embarrassment of long-winded pulpiteers, on the cathedral's
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span>
+crown of fretted spires whose marvellous tracery was
+chiselled by the angels, and on the "Most Holy Christ of
+Burgos," the crucified image that bleeds every Friday.</p>
+
+<p>Fulfilled with amazement, we searched our way back to the
+hotel through the sleety rain, ate a shivering luncheon at the
+"<i>mesa redonda</i>," that "round table" which is never round,
+and agreed to postpone our anticipated visits to the haunts
+of the Cid until a less inclement season. For of course we
+should come back to Burgos. The proud old city seemed to
+fill all the horizon of thought. How had we lived so long
+without it? That the stormy afternoon was not favorable
+to exploration mattered little. We peeped down from our
+balconies into the ancient streets, half expecting the exiled
+Cid to come spurring up, seeking the welcome which we, like
+all the craven folk of Burgos, must refuse him.</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"With sixty lances in his train my Cid rode up the town,</p>
+<p>The burghers and their dames from all the windows looking down;</p>
+<p>And there were tears in every eye, and on each lip one word:</p>
+<p>'A worthy vassal&mdash;would to God he served a worthy lord!'</p>
+<p>Fain would they shelter him, but none durst yield to his desire.</p>
+<p>Great was the fear through Burgos town of King Alphonso's ire.</p>
+<p>Sealed with his royal seal hath come his letter to forbid</p>
+<p>All men to offer harborage or succor to my Cid.</p>
+<p>And he that dared to disobey, well did he know the cost&mdash;</p>
+<p>His goods, his eyes, stood forfeited, his soul and body lost.</p>
+<p>A hard and grievous word was that to men of Christian race;</p>
+<p>And since they might not greet my Cid, they hid them from his face."</p>
+</div>
+<p>Meanwhile the streets were a living picture-book. Muffled
+cavaliers, with cloaks drawn up and hats drawn down till
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span>
+only the dance of coal-black eyes, full of fire and fun, was
+visible between, saluted our balcony with Carnival impertinence.
+Beggars of both sexes, equally wound about with
+tattered shawls, reached up expectant hands as if we were
+made of Spanish pennies. A funeral procession passed, with
+the pale light of tapers, the chanting of priests, with purple-draped
+coffin, and mourners trooping on foot&mdash;men only,
+for in Spain women never accompany their dead either to
+church or grave. A troop of infantry, whose dapper costume
+outwent itself in the last touch of bright green gloves,
+dazzled by, and then came a miscellany of maskers. It
+was rather a rag-tag show, take it all in all&mdash;red devils
+with horns, friars extremely fat, caricatures of English tourists
+with tall hats and perky blue eye-glasses, giants, dwarfs, tumblers,
+and even a sorry Cid mounted on a sorrier Bavieca.
+But the climax of excitement was reached when a novel bull-fight
+wheeled into view. It was a stuffed calf this time, set
+on wheels and propelled by a merry fellow of the tribe of
+Joseph, if one might judge by his multi-colored attire. With
+white hood, black mask, blue domino, garnet arms, and yellow
+legs, he was as cheery as a bit of rainbow out of that sombre
+sky. All the people in sight hastened to flock about him,
+policemen left their beats, and servant maids their doorways,
+an itinerant band of gypsy girls ceased clashing their tambourines,
+the blind beggar opened his eyes, and the small boys
+were in ecstasies. For over an hour the populace played
+with that mimic bull in this one spot under our windows,
+good-humored <i>caballeros</i> lending their scarfs and cloaks to
+delighted urchins, who would thrust these stimulating objects
+into the calf's bland face and then run for their lives, while the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span>
+motley Mask trundled his precious image in hot pursuit behind
+them. We were reminded of the scene months after by an
+old painting in the Escorial, depicting an almost identical
+performance. Spain is not a land of change.</p>
+
+<p>But that teeth-chattering cold, "<i>un frio de todos los demonios</i>,"
+eased our farewells to Burgos, and night found us dividing the
+privileges of a second-class carriage with two black-bearded
+Castilians, who slept foot to foot along the leather-cushioned
+seat on the one side, while we copied their example on the
+other. I started from my first doze at some hubbub of arrival
+to ask drowsily, "Is this Madrid?" "Be at peace, señora!"
+cooed one of these sable-headed neighbors, in that tone of
+humorous indulgence characteristic of the dons when addressing
+women and children. "It is twelve hours yet to Madrid.
+Slumber on with tranquil heart." So we lay like warriors
+taking our rest, with our travelling rugs, in lieu of martial
+cloaks, about us, until the east began to glow with
+rose and fire, revealing a bleak extent of treeless, tawny
+steppe.</p>
+
+<p>We had only a few days to give to "the crowned city"
+then, but those sufficed for business, for a first acquaintance
+with the <i>Puerta del Sol</i> and its radiating avenues, a first joy in
+the peerless <i>Museo del Prado</i>, and a brilliant glimpse of Carnival.
+We found the great drive of the <i>Prado</i>, on Ash Wednesday
+afternoon, reserved for carriages and maskers. Stages
+were erected along one side of the way, and on the other the
+park was closely set with chairs. Stages and chairs were
+filled with a well-clad, joyous multitude, diverted awhile from
+their pretty labors of shooting roses and showering <i>confetti</i> by
+the fascinating panorama before their eyes. The privileged
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span>
+landaus that held the middle of the road were laden with the
+loveliest women of Castile. Carriages, horses, and coachmen
+were all adorned, but these showy equipages only served as
+setting to the high-bred beauty of the occupants. The cream
+of Madrid society was there. The adults were elegantly
+dressed, but not as masqueraders. The children in the carriages,
+however, were often costumed in the picturesque
+habits of the provinces&mdash;the scarlet cap and striped shawl of
+the Catalan peasant, the open velvet waistcoat, puffed trousers,
+and blue or red sash of the Valencian, the gayly embroidered
+mantle of the Andalusian mountaineer, the cocked
+hat and tasselled jacket of the gypsy. Moors, flower girls,
+fairies, French lords and ladies of the old régime, even court
+fools with cap and bells, were brightly imaged by these little
+people, to whom the maskers on foot seemed to have left the
+monopoly of beauty. The figures darting among the landaus,
+in and out of which they leaped with confident impudence,
+were almost invariably grotesques&mdash;smirking fishwives, staring
+chimney-sweeps, pucker-mouthed babies, and scarecrows
+of every variety. Political satires are sternly forbidden, and
+among the few national burlesques, we saw nowhere any
+representation of Uncle Sam. He was hardly a subject of
+the King of Nonsense then.</p>
+
+<p>Squeaking and gibbering, the maskers, unrebuked, took all
+manner of saucy liberties. A stately old gentleman rose from
+his cushion in a crested carriage to observe how gallantly a
+bevy of ladies were beating off with a hail of <i>confetti</i> and bonbons
+an imploring cavalier who ran by their wheels, and when
+he would have resumed his seat he found himself dandled on
+the knees of a grinning Chinaman. Sometimes a swarm of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span>
+maskers would beset a favorite carriage, climbing up beside
+the coachman and snatching his reins, standing on the steps
+and throwing kisses, lying along the back and twitting the
+proudest beauty in the ear or making love to the haughtiest.
+This all-licensed masker, with his monstrous disguise and
+affected squeal, may be a duke or a doorkeeper. Carnival is
+democracy.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the inevitable small boy, whose Spanish variety
+is exceptionally light of heart and heels, gets his own fun out
+of the occasion by whisking under the ropes into this reserved
+avenue and dodging hither and thither among the vehicles, to
+the fury of the mounted police, whose duty it is to keep the
+public out. One resplendent rider devoted his full energies
+for nearly an hour to the unavailing chase of a nimble little
+rogue who risked ten of his nine lives under coaches and in
+front of horses' hoofs, but always turned up laughing with a
+finger at the nose.</p>
+
+<p>Yet this jocund day did not set without its tragedy. A
+hot-tempered Madrileño, abroad with his wife, resented the
+attentions paid her by one of the maskers and shot him
+down. The mortally wounded man was found to be a physician
+of high repute. This was not the only misadventure
+of the afternoon, a lady losing one eye by the blow of a flying
+sugar-plum.</p>
+
+<p>Our next night journey was less fortunate than our first,
+though it should be remembered that our discomforts were
+partly due to our persistency in travelling second-class. The
+carriage had its full complement of passengers, and each of
+our eight companions brought with him an unlawful excess of
+small luggage. Valises, boxes, bundles, sacks, cans, canes,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span>
+umbrellas wedged us in on every side, while our own accumulation
+of grips, shawl-straps, hold-alls, and sketching kit
+denied us even the relief of indignation. We all sat bolt upright
+the night through in an atmosphere that sickens memory.
+Not a chink of window air would those sensitive
+<i>caballeros</i> endure, while the smoke of their ever puffing cigarettes
+clouded the compartment with an uncanny haze that
+grew heavier hour by hour. Conversation, which seldom
+flagged, became a violent chorus at those intervals when the
+conductor burst in for another chapter of his serial wrangle
+with a fiery gentleman who refused to pay full fare. Every
+don in the carriage, even to the chubby priest nodding in the
+coziest corner, had an unalterable conviction as to the rights
+and wrongs of that question, and men we had supposed, from
+their swaying and snoring, fast asleep, would leap to their
+feet when the conductor entered, fling out their hands in
+vehement gestures, and dash into the midst of the vociferous
+dispute. Lazy Spaniards, indeed! We began to wish that
+the Peninsula would cultivate repose of manner. Our tempers
+were sorely shaken, and when, in the pale chill of dawn,
+we arrived at Cordova, sleepless, nauseated, and out of love
+with humanity, we had every prospect of passing a wretched
+forenoon.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it is I am inclined to believe we lay down under an
+orange tree and dreamed a dream of the "Arabian Nights."
+Or perhaps it was only another freak of the Carnival. At all
+events, a cup of coffee, and the world was changed. Cordova!
+A midsummer heat, a land of vineyards and olive groves,
+palms and aloes, a white, unearthly city, with narrow, silent,
+deathlike streets, peopled only by drowsy beggars and by gliding
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span>
+maskers that seemed more real than this Oriental picture
+in which they moved, high walls with grated, harem-like
+windows, and an occasional glimpse, through some arched
+doorway, into a marble-floored, rose-waving, fountain-playing
+patio, enchanted and mysterious, a dream within a dream.
+Cordova is more than haunted. It is itself a ghost. The
+court of the Spanish caliphs, at once the Mecca and the
+Athens of the West, a holy city which counted its baths
+and mosques by hundreds, a seat of learning whose universities
+were renowned for mathematics and philosophy, chemistry,
+astronomy, and medicine, and within whose libraries were
+treasured manuscripts by hundreds of thousands, a star of art
+and poetry, it ever reproaches, by this lovely, empty shadow,
+the Christian barbarism that spurned away the Moors.</p>
+
+<p>The insulted Mosque of Cordova well-nigh makes Mohammedans
+of us all. Entering by the studded Door of Pardon
+into the spacious Court of Oranges, with its ancient trees and
+sparkling quintette of fountains, one passes onward under the
+Arch of Blessings into a marble forest of slender, sculptured
+pillars. The wide world, from Carthage to Damascus, from
+Jerusalem to Ephesus and Rome, was searched for the choicest
+shafts of jasper, breccia, alabaster, porphyry, until one thousand
+four hundred precious columns bore the glory of rose-red
+arches and wonder-roof of gilded and enamelled cedar. More
+than seven thousand hanging lamps of bronze, filled with perfumed
+oil, flashed out the mosaic tints,&mdash;golds, greens, violets,
+vermilions,&mdash;of ceiling, walls, and pavement. All this shining
+sanctity culminated in the Mihrâb, or Prayer-Niche, an
+octagonal recess whose shell-shaped ceiling is hollowed from
+a single block of pure white marble. This Holy of Holies
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span>
+held the Koran, bound in gold and pearls, around which the
+Faithful were wont to make seven turns upon their knees, an
+act of devotion that has left indisputable grooves in the marble
+of the pavement.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_042" id="i_042"></a>
+<img src="images/i_042.jpg" width="421" height="620" alt="An Arab Gateway in Burgos" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">An Arab Gateway in Burgos</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Christian conquerors splashed whitewash over the
+exquisite ceiling, hewed down the pillars of the outer aisles to
+give space for a fringe of garish chapels, and even chopped
+away threescore glistening columns in the centre to make
+room for an incongruous Renaissance choir, with an altar of
+silver gilt and a big pink retablo. We could have wandered
+for endless hours among the strange half-lights and colored
+shadows of that petrified faith of Islam, marvelling on the
+processes of time. It is claimed that the Arab mosque rose
+on the site of a Roman temple, whence Mahomet drove forth
+Janus, to be in his own turn expelled by Christ. The race of
+those who bowed themselves in this gleaming labyrinth has
+fared ill at Spanish hands. Even now a Moor, however courteous
+and cultured, is refused admission to certain Castilian
+churches, as the Escorial.</p>
+
+<p>How did we ever part from Cordova, from her resplendent,
+desecrated mosque, her stone lanes of streets, her hinted
+patios, the Moorish mills and Roman bridge of her yellow
+Guadalquivír? It must all have been a morning dream, for
+the early afternoon saw us tucked away in another second-class
+carriage speeding toward Granada.</p>
+
+<p>We were in beautiful Andalusia, <i>la tierra de Maria Santisima</i>.
+The green slopes of the Sierra Morena, planted to
+the top with olive groves, watched the beginnings of our
+journey, and banks of strange, sweet flowers, with glimpses
+of Moorish minarets and groups of dark-faced, bright-sashed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span>
+peasants, looking as if they had just stepped down from an
+artist's easel, beguiled us of all physical discomforts save heat
+and thirst. When the sun was at its sorest, the train drew
+up at a tumble-down station, and we looked eagerly for the
+customary water seller, with his cry of "Water! Fresh
+water! Water cooler than snow!" But it was too warm
+for this worthy to venture out, and our hopes fastened on a
+picturesque old merchant seated in a shaft of cypress shade
+beside a heap of golden oranges. Those juicy globes were a
+sight to madden all the parched mouths in the train, and
+imploring voices hailed the proprietor from window after
+window. But our venerable hidalgo smoked his cigarette
+in tranquil ease, disdaining the vulgarities of barter. At the
+very last moment we persuaded a ragged boy in the throng
+of bystanders to fetch us a hatful of the fruit. Then the
+peasant languidly arose, followed the lad to our window,
+named an infinitesimal price, and received his coin with the
+bow of a grandee. He was no hustler in business, this
+Andalusian patriarch, but his dignity was epic and his oranges
+were nectar.</p>
+
+<p>We shall never know whether or not we had an adventure
+that evening. A wild-eyed tatterdemalion swung himself
+suddenly into our compartment and demanded our tickets,
+but as all the Andalusians looked to our unaccustomed view
+like brigands, we did not discriminate against this abrupt
+individual, but yielded up our strips of pasteboard without
+demur. A swarthy young Moor of Tangier, the only other
+occupant of the carriage, sharply refused to surrender his own
+until the intruder should produce a conductor's badge, whereupon
+the stranger swore in gypsy, or "words to that effect,"
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span>
+wrenched open the door and fled, like Judas, into the outer
+dark. The Moor excitedly declared to us that our tickets
+would be called for at the station in Granada, that we should
+have to pay their price to the gate-keeper, and that our
+irregular collector, hiding somewhere along the train, would
+be admitted by that corrupt official to a share in the spoils.
+Moved by our dismay, this son of the desert thrust his head
+through the window at the next stop, and roared so lustily
+for the conductor and the civil guard that, in a twinkling, the
+robber, if he was a robber, popped up in the doorway again,
+like a Jack-in-the-box, and rudely flung us back the tickets.
+Thereupon our benefactor, if he was a benefactor, solemnly
+charged us never, on the Granada road, to give up anything
+to anybody who wore no gilt on his cap.</p>
+
+<p>More and more the purple mountains were folding us
+about, until at last we arrived at Granada, too tired for a
+thrill. Mr. Gulick's constant care, which had secured us
+harborage in Madrid, had provided welcome here. Content
+in mere well-being, it was not until the following afternoon
+that tourist enterprise revived within us. Then we somewhat
+recklessly wandered down from the Alhambra hill into the
+heart of the People's Carnival, a second Sunday of festival
+given over to the enjoyment of the lower classes. The
+grotesque costumes were coarser than ever and the fun was
+rougher. The maskers cracked whips at the other promenaders,
+blew horns, shook rattles, and struck about them
+with painted bladders, but the balconies were bright with the
+bewitching looks of Andalusian beauties, each vying with the
+rest in throwing the many-colored <i>serpentinas</i>, curly lengths
+of paper that crisp themselves in gaudy fetters about their
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span>
+captives. A single business house in Granada claimed to
+have sold over a million of these, representing a value of
+some ten thousand dollars, during Carnival week. Southern
+Spain was grumbling bitterly against the Government and
+the war taxes, and in Seville, where a tax is put on masks,
+the Carnival had been given up this year as last; but Granada
+would not be cheated of her frolic. Our study of this closing
+phase of the Carnival was cut short by the recollection that it
+was, above all, the <i>fiesta</i> of pickpockets. Finding ourselves,
+on the superb <i>Paseo del Salón</i>, in the midst of a hooting,
+jostling, half-gypsy mob, rained upon with <i>confetti</i>, called
+upon in broken French and English, pressed upon by boys
+and beggars, and happening to catch sight of the stately
+bronze statue of Columbus which the women of Granada
+had recently stoned because, by discovering America, he
+brought all the Cuban troubles upon Spain, we took the hint
+of the wise navigator's eye and decided that we two stray
+Yankees might be as well off somewhere else. "Feet, why
+do I love you?" say the Spaniards; and so said we, suiting
+the action to the word.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">III</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">WITHIN THE ALHAMBRA</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">
+"The Sierra Nevada, an enormous dove which shelters under its most spotless
+wings Saracen Granada."&mdash;<span class="smcap">Alarcón</span>: <i>Los Seis Velos</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">O</span>ur surprises were by no means over. We had
+come to Granada to bask in the quintessence of
+earthly sunshine, and we found bleak rains, dark
+skies, and influenza. The Moorish palace was indeed as
+wonderful as our lifelong dream of it,&mdash;arched and columned
+halls of exquisite fretwork, walls of arabesque where flushes
+and glints of color linger yet, ceilings crusted with stalactite
+figures of tapering caprice, but all too chill, even if the guides
+would cease from troubling, for tarrying revery. We tarried,
+nevertheless, were enraptured, and caught cold. We were
+dwelling in the village on the Alhambra hill, within the circuit
+of the ruined fortress, in a villa kept by descendants of the
+Moors, but the insolent grippe microbe respected neither
+ancient blood nor republican. During the month of our
+residence, every member of the household was brought low in
+turn, and there were days when even the stubborn Yankees
+retreated to their pillows, lulled by the howling of as wild
+March winds as ever whirled the grasshopper vane on Faneuil
+Hall. From beyond the partition sounded the groans of our
+fever-smitten hostess, and from the kitchen below arose the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span>
+noise of battle between our sturdy host and the rebel spoons
+and sauce-pans. If we could not always swallow his bold
+experiments in gruel and porridge, we could always enjoy the
+roars of laughter with which that merry silversmith plied his
+unaccustomed labors. It is said that there are only three
+months of the year when Granada is fit to live in, and certainly
+February and March are not of these. But our delighted
+spirits had no thought of surrender to our discomfited bodies.
+We would not go away. It is better to ache in beautiful
+Granada than to be at ease elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>At the first peep of convalescence, we fled out of doors in
+search of a sunbeam and discovered, again to our surprise,
+this immemorial Alhambra hill as young as springtime. The
+famous fragments of towers, with their dim legends of enchantment,
+all those tumbled masses of time-worn, saffron-lichened
+masonry, are tragically old, yet the tender petals of peach blossoms,
+drifting through the fragrant air, lay pink as baby touches
+against those hoary piles. We rested beside many an ancient
+ruin overclambered by red rosebuds or by branches laden
+with the fresh gold of oranges, where thrushes practised songs
+of welcome for the nightingales. We were too early for
+these sweetest minstrels of the Alhambra, who, like the Moors
+of long ago, were yearning on the edge of Africa for the Vega
+of Granada.</p>
+
+<p>One expects, shut in by the crumbling walls of the Alhambra,
+in shadow of the ruddy towers, in sound of the Moslem
+fountains, to live with dreams and visions for one's company,
+to have no associates less dignified than the moonlight cavalcades
+of shadowy Arabian warriors, whom the mountain
+caverns cast forth at stated seasons to troop once more in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span>
+their remembered ways, or lustrous-eyed, lute-playing sultanas,
+or, at least, a crook-backed, snow-bearded magician, with a
+wallet full of talismans, and footsteps that clink like the gold
+of buried treasure. But here again the eternal fact of youth
+in the world disconcerts all venerable calculations. The
+Alhambra dances and laughs with children&mdash;ragamuffins,
+most of them, but none the less radiant with the precious joy
+of the morning.</p>
+
+<p>They are gentle little people, too. It became well known
+on the hill that we were Americans, yet not a pebble or rude
+word followed us from the groups of unkempt boys among
+whom we daily passed. Once a mimic regiment, with a
+deafening variety of unmusical instruments and a genuine
+Spanish flag, charged on me roguishly and drew up in battle
+square about their prisoner, but it was only to troll the staple
+song of Spanish adolescence: "I want to be a soldier," and
+when I had munificently rewarded the captain with a copper,
+the youngsters doffed their varied headgear, dipped their banner
+in martial salute, and contentedly re-formed their ranks. It
+was seldom that we gave money, but we usually carried <i>dulces</i>
+for the little ones, who, even the dirtiest, have their own pretty
+standard of manners.</p>
+
+<p>Some half-dozen <i>pequeñitos</i>, not one of whom was clearly
+out of petticoats, were scampering off one day, for instance,
+their thanks duly spoken, and their bits of candy just between
+hand and mouth, when they turned with one accord, as if
+suddenly aware of an abruptness in their leave-taking, and
+trotted back to bow them low, their tatters of cap sweeping
+the ground, and lisp with all Spanish gravity, "Good afternoon,
+señora." One chubby hidalgo tipped over with the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span>
+profundity of his obeisance, but the others righted him so
+solemnly that the dignity of the ceremonial was unimpaired.</p>
+
+<p>The habit of begging, that plague of tourist resorts, is an
+incessant nuisance on the Alhambra hill. Half-grown girls
+and young women were the most shameless and persistent of
+our tormentors. Age can be discouraged, and babyhood
+diverted, while the Spanish boy, if his importunities are met
+by smile and jest, will break into a laugh in the midst of his
+most pathetic appeals and let you off till next time.</p>
+
+<p>"A little money for our Blessed Lady's sake, señora. I
+am starving."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't you rather have a cigarette?"</p>
+
+<p>"And that I would."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you are not starving, little brother. Run away.
+I have no cigarettes."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have money for me, señora."</p>
+
+<p>"No, nor enough for myself, not enough to buy one tile
+of the Alhambra."</p>
+
+<p>"Then may God take care of you!"</p>
+
+<p>"And of you!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_051" id="i_051"></a>
+<img src="images/i_051.jpg" width="600" height="410" alt="Playing at Bull-Fight" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Playing at Bull-Fight</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But the wild-haired, jet-eyed gypsy girl from the Albaicín
+is impervious to mirth and untouched by courtesy. She
+would not do us the honor of believing our word, even when
+we were telling the truth.</p>
+
+<p>"Five <i>centimos</i> to buy me a scarlet ribbon! Five <i>centimos</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not to-day, excuse me. I have no change."</p>
+
+<p>"Hoh! You have change enough. Look in your little
+brown bag and see."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no change."</p>
+
+<p>"Then give me a <i>peseta</i>. Come, now, a whole <i>peseta</i>!"
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But why should I give you a <i>peseta</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl stares like an angry hawk.</p>
+
+<p>"But why shouldn't you?" Darting away, she hustles
+together a group of toddlers, hardly able to lisp, and drives
+them on to the attack.</p>
+
+<p>"Beg, Isabelita! Beg of the lady, little Conception! Beg,
+Alfonsito! Beg, beg, beg! Beg five <i>centimos</i>, ten <i>centimos</i>!
+Beg a <i>peseta</i> for us all!"</p>
+
+<p>And out pop the tiny palms, and the babble of baby voices
+makes a pleading music in the air. It is for such as these
+that the little brown bag has learned to carry <i>dulces</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Before the month was over we had, in a slow, grippe-chastened
+fashion, "done our Baedeker." We had our
+favorite courts and corridors in the magical maze of the
+Moorish palace; we knew the gardens and fountains of the
+<i>Generalife</i>, even to that many-centuried cypress beneath whose
+shade the Sultana Zoraya was wont to meet her Abencerrage
+lover; our fortunes had been told in the gypsy caves of the
+Albaicín; we had visited the stately Renaissance cathedral
+where, in a dim vault, the "Catholic Kings," Ferdinand and
+Isabella, take their royal rest; we had made a first acquaintance
+with the paintings of the fire-tempered Granadine,
+Alonso Cano, and paid our dubious respects to the convent
+of Cartuja, with its over-gorgeous ornament and its horrible
+pictures of Spanish martyrdoms inflicted by that "devil's
+bride," Elizabeth of England. We had explored the parks
+and streets of the strange old city, where we possessed,
+according to the terms of Spanish hospitality, several houses;
+but better than the clamorous town we liked our own wall-girdled
+height, with its songful wood of English elms, planted
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span>
+by the Duke of Wellington, its ever murmuring runlets of
+clear water, its jessamines and myrtles, its Arabian Nights
+of mosque and tower, and its far outlook over what is perhaps
+the most entrancing prospect any hill of earth can show.
+The sunset often found us leaning over the ivied wall beneath
+the <i>Torre de la Vela</i>, that bell-tower where the first cross was
+raised after the Christian conquest, gazing forth from our
+trellised garden-nook on a vast panorama of gray city all
+quaintly set with arch and cupola, of sweeping plain with
+wealth of olive groves, vineyards, orange orchards, pomegranates,
+aloes, and cypresses, bounded by glistening ranks of
+snow-cloaked mountains. From the other side of the Alhambra
+plateau, the fall is sheer to the silver line of the
+Darro. Across the river rises the slope of the Albaicín, once
+the chosen residence of Moorish aristocracy, but now dotted
+over, amid the thickets of cactus and prickly pear, with whitewashed
+entrances to gypsy caves. Beyond all shine the
+resplendent summits of the great Sierras.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it is strange how homely are many of the memories
+that spring to life in me at the name of the Alhambra,&mdash;decorous
+donkeys, laden with water-jars, trooping up the narrow
+footpath to the old Fountain of Tears, herds of goats clinging
+like flies to the upright precipice, a lurking peasant darting
+out on his wife as she passes with a day's earnings hidden
+in her stocking and holding her close, with laughter and coaxing,
+while he persistently searches her clothing until he finds
+and appropriates that copper hoard, and our own cheery little
+house-drudge washing our linen in a wayside rivulet and singing
+like a bird as she rubs and pounds an unfortunate handkerchief
+between two haphazard stones:&mdash;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"I like to live in Granada,</p>
+<p class="i1">It pleases me so well</p>
+<p>When I am falling asleep at night</p>
+<p class="i1">To hear the <i>Vela</i> bell."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>There is the proud young mother, too, whom we came upon
+by chance over behind the Tower of the Princesses, where
+her pot of <i>puchero</i> was bubbling above a miniature bonfire, while
+the velvet-eyed baby boy sucked his thumb in joyous expectation.
+She often made us welcome, after that, to her home,&mdash;a
+dingy stone kitchen and bedroom, unfurnished save for
+pallet, a few cooking-utensils, a chest or two, and, fastened to
+the wall, a gaudy print of <i>La Virgen de las Angustias</i>, the venerated
+<i>Patrona</i> of Granada. But this wretched abode, the
+remains of what may once have been a palace, opened on a
+lordly pleasure-garden with walls inlaid with patterns of rainbow
+tiles, whose broken edges were hidden by rose bushes.
+There were pedestals and even fragments of images in this
+wild Eden, jets of sparkling water and walks of variegated
+marble. In the course of the month, English and Spanish
+callers climbed the hill to us and encompassed us with kindness,
+but we still maintained our incorrigible taste for low
+society and used to hold informal receptions on sunny benches
+for all the tatterdemalions within sight. Swarthy boys,
+wearied with much loafing, would thriftily lay aside their
+cigarettes to favor us with conversation, asking many questions
+about America, for whose recent action they gallantly
+declined to hold us responsible. "It was not the ladies that
+made the war," said these modern cavaliers of the Alhambra.</p>
+
+<p>Their especial spokesman was a shambling orphan lad of
+some fifteen summers, with shrewd and merry eyes. Nothing
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span>
+pleased him better than to give an ornamental hitch to the
+shabby, bright-colored scarf about his thin, brown throat, and
+proceed to expound the political situation.</p>
+
+<p>"You admire the Alhambra? I suppose you have no
+palaces in America because your Government is a republic.
+That is a very good thing. Our Government is the worst
+possible. All the loss falls on the poor. All the gain goes to
+the rich. But there are few rich in Spain. America is the
+richest country of all the world. When America fought us
+it was as a rich man, fed and clothed, fighting a poor man
+weak from famine. And the rich man took from the poor
+man all that he had. Spain has nothing left&mdash;nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't say that! Spain has the Alhambra, and beautiful
+churches, beautiful pictures."</p>
+
+<p>"Can one eat churches and pictures, my lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"And a fertile soil. What country outblooms Andalusia?"</p>
+
+<p>His half-shod foot kicked the battle-trampled earth of the
+immortal hill contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>"Soil! Yes. All the world has soil. It serves to be
+buried in."</p>
+
+<p>This budding politician graced us with his company one
+Sunday afternoon, when we went down into Granada to see
+a religious procession. Our Lady of Lourdes, escorted by a
+distinguished train of ecclesiastical and civic dignitaries, with
+pomp of many shining lights and sonorous instruments, with
+peal of church bells and incongruous popping of fireworks,
+passed through extended ranks of candle-bearing worshippers,
+along thronged streets, where every balcony was hung with
+the national red and yellow, to the Church of Mary Magdalene.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span>
+There the sacred guest was entertained with a concert,
+and thence conducted, with the same processional state, amid
+the same reverent salutations of the multitude, back to her
+own niche. Our youthful guide showed himself so devout
+on this occasion, kneeling whenever the image, borne aloft in
+a glory of flowers and tapers, passed us, and gazing on every
+feature of the pageant with large-eyed adoration, that we
+asked him, as we climbed the hill again, if he would like to
+be a priest. But he shrugged his shoulders. "There are
+better Christians in Spain than the priests," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>The son of the house, Don Pepe, a young man of five and
+twenty, who usually attended us on any difficult excursion,
+was also frankly outspoken in his disapproval of the clergy.
+He could hardly hold his countenance in passing a Franciscan
+friar. "There walks the ruin of Spain," he muttered once,
+with bitter accent, turning to scowl after the bareheaded,
+brown-frocked figure so common in Granada streets. We
+had, indeed, our own little grudge against the friars, for they
+were the only men of the city who forced us off the narrow
+sidewalks out into the rough and dirty road. All other Granadines,
+from dandies to gypsies, yielded us the strip of pavement
+with ready courtesy, but the friars, three or four in
+Indian file, would press on their way like graven images and
+drive us to take refuge among the donkeys.</p>
+
+<p>This escort of ours, formally a Catholic, was no more a
+lover of State than of Church. He was eager to get to work
+in the world and, finding no foothold, charged up his grievance
+against the Government. He was firmly persuaded that
+Madrid had sold the Santiago and Manila victories to Washington
+for sums of money down,&mdash;deep down in official
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span>
+pockets. But his talk, however angry, would always end in
+throwing out the hands with a gesture of despair.</p>
+
+<p>"But what use in revolutions? Spain is tired&mdash;tired of
+tumult, tired of bloodshed, tired of deceit and disappointment.
+A new government would only mean the old dogs with new
+collars. We, the people, are always the bone to be gnawed
+bare. What use in anything? Let it go as God wills."</p>
+
+<p>The Silvela and Polavieja ministry came in during our stay
+at Granada, and the Liberal and Republican chorus against
+what was known as the Reactionary Government swelled loud.
+"It means the yoke of the Jesuits," growled our burly host.
+Our Alhambra dream suffered frequent jars from these ignoble
+confusions of to-day. When we were musing comfortably
+on the melancholy fortunes of Boabdil, a cheap newspaper
+would be thrust before our eyes with an editorial headed
+"Boabdil Sagasta." It is always best to do what one must.
+Since we could not be left in peace to the imagination of
+plumy cavaliers, stars of Moslem and Christian chivalry, who
+sowed this mount so thick with glorious memories, we turned
+our thoughts to the poor soldiers from Cuba, especially during
+the week throughout which they paraded the cities of Spain in
+rag-tag companies under rude flags with the ruder motto:
+"<i>Hungry Repatriados</i>." Their appearance was so woful that
+it became a by-word. A child, picking up from a gutter one
+day a mud-stained, dog-eared notebook, cried gleefully, "It's
+a <i>repatriado</i>." There was no glamour here, but the courage
+and sacrifice, the love and anguish, held good.</p>
+
+<p>Granada had borne her share in Spain's last war sorrow.
+So many of her sons were drafted for the Antilles that her
+anger against America waxed hot. A few months before our
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span>
+arrival every star-spangled banner that could be hunted out
+in shop or residence was trampled and burned in the public
+squares. The Washington Irving Hotel hastened to take
+down its sign, and even the driver of its omnibus was sternly
+warned by the people to erase those offensive American names
+from his vehicle on pain of seeing it transformed into a chariot
+of fire. A shot, possibly accidental, whistled through the
+office of the English consul, who was given to understand, in
+more ways than one, that Spain made little difference between
+"the cloaked enemy" and the foe in the field. Meanwhile,
+month after month, the recruits were marched to the station,
+and the City Fathers, who came in all municipal dignity to
+bid the lads godspeed, were so overwhelmed by the weeping
+of the women that they forgot the cream of their speeches.</p>
+
+<p>Among the new tales of Spanish valor told us on the
+Alhambra hill was this:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>When lots were drawn for military service, one blithe
+young scapegrace found in his hand a fortunate high number,
+but, walking away in fine feather over his luck, he met the
+mother of a friend of his, sobbing wildly as she went. Her
+son had been drafted, and the two hundred dollars of redemption
+money was as far beyond her reach as those dazzling
+crests of the Sierra Nevada are above the lame beggar at the
+Alhambra gate. Then the kindly fellow, troubled by her
+grief and mindful of the fact that, orphan as he was, his own
+parting would be at no such cost of tears, offered to serve in
+her boy's stead. Her passion of gratitude could not let his
+service go all unrecompensed. Poorest of the poor, she went
+about among her humble friends, lauding his deed, until she
+had collected, <i>peseta</i> by <i>peseta</i>, the sum of sixteen dollars,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span>
+which she thrust into his hands to buy comforts for the campaign.
+But another sobbing mother sought him out. He
+had saved her neighbor's son; would he not save hers?
+Laughing at her logic and moved by her faith in him, he
+answered: "I am only one man, señora. I cannot go in
+place of two. But here are sixteen dollars. If you can find
+a substitute at such a price, the money is yours."</p>
+
+<p>Sixteen dollars is a fortune to hunger and nakedness, and
+the substitute was found. As the year wore on those two
+mothers did not let the city forget its light-hearted hero, and
+a great assembly gathered at the station to honor his return.
+A remnant of his comrades descended from the train, but as
+for him, they said, he had died in Cuba of the fever months
+before.</p>
+
+<p>His was no poetic death like that of the Abencerrages.
+Happy Abencerrages! They knew the Alhambra in the
+freshness of her beauty. Their last uplifted glances looked
+upon the most exquisite ceilings in the world. Their blood
+left immortal stains on the marble base of the fountain.
+But this young Spaniard, in his obscure Cuban grave, only
+one out of the eighty thousand, will promptly be forgotten.
+<i>No importa.</i> There must be something better than glory for
+the man who does more than his duty.
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 417px;"><a name="i_062" id="i_062"></a>
+<img src="images/i_062.jpg" width="417" height="554" alt="The Mosque of Cordova" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Mosque of Cordova</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">IV</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">A FUNCTION IN GRANADA</p>
+
+<div class="poem p2">
+<p class="o1">"O Love Divine, Celestial Purity,</p>
+<p class="i2">Pity my cries!</p>
+<p>My soul is prone before a clouded throne.</p>
+<p class="i2">Let thy keen light arise,</p>
+<p>Pierce this obscurity</p>
+<p class="i2">And free my dream-bound eyes!"</p>
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<i>Ganivet's Last Poem.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span>he civilization of Spain, streaked as it is with
+Oriental barbarisms, belated and discouraged as the
+end of the nineteenth century finds it, is still in
+many respects finer than our own. In everything that
+relates to grace and charm of social intercourse, to the dignified
+expression of reverence, compassion, and acknowledgment,
+Spain puts us to the blush. I was especially touched
+in Granada by the whole-souled sympathy and veneration
+with which the city rendered public honors to one of its sons,
+Angel Ganivet, who died in the preceding winter, a poet
+hardly thirty.</p>
+
+<p>Although I had glanced over obituary notices of this
+Spanish writer in the Paris papers, I had but a vague idea
+of his work and life, and sought, before the night of the
+memorial ceremonies, for further information. I appealed,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span>
+first of all, to our table waiter, whose keen black eyes instantly
+turned sad and tender.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Pobre! Pobre!</i> He threw himself into the river at Riga,
+in Russia, where he was consul. It was at the close of
+the war. And he such a genius! So young! So true a
+Spaniard! But all Granada will be at the theatre. He left
+his play to Granada, asking that it be seen here first of all.
+I have never read his books, but I have met him in the streets,
+and lifted my hat to him for a wise <i>caballero</i> who cared greatly
+for Spain."</p>
+
+<p>My next appeal was to our kind neighbor, the English
+consul, who assured me laughingly that he, like myself, was
+vainly ransacking the few bookstores of Granada for Ganivet's
+works.</p>
+
+<p>"The first time I ever heard the name," he added, "was
+some three or four years ago, when I noticed an old gentleman
+standing often in front of my house, and gazing at the
+British coat-of-arms above my door. He told me one day
+when I drew him into talk that he had a nephew, Angel Ganivet,
+roaming in foreign lands. 'But he does not forget his
+old uncle,' said he. 'I always receive my little pension
+prompt to the day, and so I like to look at the foreign shields
+about the city, and remember my nephew, far away, who
+remembers me.' That was a trifle, of course, but it gave me
+a kindly feeling for the young fellow, and I'm sorry he came
+to such an end. They found him in the river, you know.
+I dare say it was suicide, and likely enough the defeat of
+Spain had its share in causing his despondency; but nobody
+knows. He was a zealous patriot, I understand, and all
+Granada seems to take his death to heart."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span></p>
+
+<p>My next authority was an aged Granadine, a man of letters;
+but he had not read Ganivet's books.</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard of him often," he said, "but I never met
+him. He was not much in Granada, although he seems to
+have had a romantic affection for the place. <i>Bueno!</i> Its
+pomegranates are worth remembering. But Ganivet liked
+to live in foreign countries, with the idea of understanding
+his own better by comparison. He was young; he still had
+hopes for Spain. Eighty years are on my head, and I have
+long done with hoping. I have served in my country's
+armies, I have served in her Government, I have seen much
+of Church and State, and since the night when they murdered
+General Prim I have seen nothing good. But Ganivet had
+faith in the national future, and the people, without waiting
+to ask on what that faith was founded, love him for it,
+and mourn his loss as if he had been their benefactor. They
+are all going to pour into the theatre to-morrow night to
+hear his symbolic drama, that not one in a hundred of them
+will try to understand, and the hundredth will get it all
+wrong."</p>
+
+<p>The "function" took place in the <i>Gran Teatro de Isabel
+la Católica</i>, a name to conjure with throughout all Spain, and
+especially in Granada. The day set for the performance,
+and widely advertised by newspapers and posters for a
+month in advance, was a Wednesday. On Tuesday, in
+a fever lest we be too late, we arrived at the ticket office.
+We had our hurry all to ourselves. Apparently nobody else
+had as yet taken a seat. The office was empty, save for us
+and our attendant train of boys and beggars.</p>
+
+<p>The official in charge, deaf, slow, and courteous, invited
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span>
+us into a private room and gave us rocking-chairs by the
+<i>brasero</i>, while he, with paper and pencil, laboriously added the
+price of our <i>entradas</i> to the price of our modest box, and
+spent five minutes in subtracting the amount from the figure
+of the small bill we handed him. The counting out of the
+change was another strain on his arithmetic, and, after all
+these toils, we were still without tickets. He said he would
+"write them out at home," and we might send some one for
+them the next day. But he affably offered to show us the
+theatre, and led us through black passages to a great dusky
+space, where, while he struck match after match, we could
+catch glimpses of pit and balconies, and even a far-off stage,
+with a group of actors gathered about a lamp, rehearsing the
+play. In Wednesday morning's paper, however, they announced
+with entire nonchalance that they were not ready
+yet, and would postpone the representation until Thursday.</p>
+
+<p>On Thursday evening the theatre, choking full though it
+was, hardly presented a brilliant appearance. Granada is not
+Madrid, nor Seville, and the best the Granadines had to offer
+their dead poet was the tribute of their presence in such guise
+as they could command. The big, barnlike theatre, with its
+rows of broken lamp-chimneys, looked shabby, and the rag-tag
+proportion of the audience was so great that it overflowed
+the <i>Paraiso</i> into the aisles and doorways and all conceivable
+corners. People were so jumbled and crumpled together
+that, with reminiscences of my traveller's hold-all, I found
+myself wondering if they would ever shake out smooth again.</p>
+
+<p>Whole families were there, from the infant in arms that
+invariably screamed when the actors were reciting any passage
+of peculiar delicacy, to the dozing old grandfather, who kept
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span>
+dropping his cigarette out of his mouth in a way that threatened
+to set us all on fire. The gentlemen, even in the boxes
+and the stalls, were generally ungloved, and we did not see
+a dress suit in the house. Cloaks and neckties were ablaze
+with color as usual, but the masculine toilets eluded our
+stricter observation; for when the curtain was up, our eyes
+were all for the stage, and between acts your Spaniard sits
+with hat on head, enveloped in a cloud of tobacco smoke.</p>
+
+<p>But the Andalusian ladies made amends for everything.
+By some prehistoric agreement, Spanish women have yielded
+the rainbow to the men, reserving for their own attire the
+quiet elegance of black or the festive beauty of pure white.
+The dress that evening, even in the principal boxes, was
+conspicuously simple. But the clear brunette complexions,
+the delicate contours, the rich black hair worn high and
+crowned with natural flowers, the waving fans and flashing
+glances, cast a glamour over the whole scene.</p>
+
+<p>The memorial rites themselves made up in quantity whatever
+they might lack in quality, continuing from eight o'clock
+till two. An orchestra, organized from Granada musicians
+for this occasion, opened the programme. The bust of
+Ganivet, wrought by a young Granada sculptor, was reverently
+unveiled. The star actor, Fuentes of Granada, who
+had undertaken with his troupe to present his fellow-townsman's
+drama purely as a labor of love, read an interpretation
+written by one of Granada's leading critics. The orchestra
+was in evidence again, introducing the first act, entitled
+"Faith." After this the orchestra played Bretón's serenade,
+"In the Alhambra," and the curtain rose for the second act
+on so natural a scene-painting of the famous fortress that the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span>
+audience went wild with enthusiasm, and the blushing artist,
+also a Granadine, had to be literally shoved from the wings
+upon the stage to receive his plaudits.</p>
+
+<p>Between the second act, "Love," and the last act, "Death,"
+came an <i>andante elegiaco</i>, "written expressly for this artistic
+solemnity" by a Granada composer. Here, again, the appreciation
+of the audience was unbounded, and nothing would
+do but the reluctant master must leave his box, struggle
+through the packed multitude to the conductor's stand, and
+take the baton himself for a second rendering from the first
+chord to the last. At the close of the third act the orchestra
+did its part once more, and the celebration ended, somewhat
+incongruously, with a lively bit of modern comedy.</p>
+
+<p>There was imperfection enough, had one been disposed to
+look for it. The fifty members of the impromptu orchestra
+had hardly brought themselves into accord, the acting was not
+of the best Spanish quality, and the players had not half
+learned their parts. Every long declamation was a duet, the
+prompter's rapid undertone charging along beneath the actor's
+voice like a horse beneath its rider. But the audience understood,
+forgave, were grateful, and sat with sublime patience
+through the long pauses between the acts, repeating one to
+another, "They say Fuentes is studying his speeches." As
+the caustic old scholar had predicted, most of them, apparently,
+did not try to understand the allegory. They applauded the
+obviously poetic touches, the palpably dramatic situations, and
+when, in the Alhambra act, a gypsy air was sung, the galleries
+delightedly caught it up and chorused it over again.</p>
+
+<p>But in general that nondescript assembly looked on in
+passive gravity while <i>El Escultor de su Alma</i> was rendered,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span>
+as their poet had bidden, in their own theatre and for them.
+They may have gathered hints and snatches of that mystical
+message from the dead, whose lofty look, fixed in shining
+marble, dominated all the house.</p>
+
+<p>The restless Spirit of Man, seeking the perfect Truth,
+tears himself loose from the bride of his youth, Heavenly
+Faith, and wanders in beggary through the world. Yet
+Truth for him can only be the child of his union with Faith,
+and in parting from one he has parted from both. In old age,
+almost maddened by his wanderings and woes, he meets his
+Truth again, full-grown and beautiful, but is so fierce and
+wild in his desire to possess her that only Death can reconcile
+them&mdash;Death and that Heavenly Faith who could not
+abandon him, though he had forsaken her.</p>
+
+<p>Ganivet's mother, who, with his brothers, witnessed the
+play from behind the scenes, is said to have rejoiced in it as
+a last solemn assurance from her son of his secure repose in
+the Catholic faith of his fathers. It may not have meant so
+much to that great audience, many of whom could neither
+read nor write, but those tiers upon tiers of dark Spanish faces
+were full of earnestness and of a proud content. However
+it may have baffled their heads, this legacy of a play, in its
+Alhambra setting, spoke clearly to their hearts. One ragamuffin
+said to another, as an all-sufficient criticism, "He was
+thinking of Granada when he wrote it."</p>
+
+<p>A few days later, I found and eagerly read Angel Ganivet's
+most significant booklet, <i>Idearium</i>, published in the autumn
+of 1896, in which he sets forth his dream for the future of
+his beloved country.</p>
+
+<p>Ganivet claims that the deepest moral element in Spanish
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span>
+character is stoicism, "not the brutal and heroic stoicism of
+Cato, nor the serene and majestic stoicism of Marcus Aurelius,
+nor the rigid and extreme stoicism of Epictetus, but the
+natural and humane stoicism of Seneca." He holds that
+Seneca, himself a Spaniard, found his philosophy in the inherent
+genius of the country, and only gave voice to the
+indwelling soul of Spain. The Spanish church, cherishing
+this element, became a thing apart from the general Catholicism
+of Europe. The long warfare and incidental intercourse
+with the Moors stamped Spanish Christianity with its two
+other characteristic features of mysticism and fanaticism.
+"Mysticism was like a sanctification of African sensuality,
+and fanaticism was a turning against ourselves, when the
+Reconquest ended, of the fury accumulated during eight
+centuries of combat."</p>
+
+<p>The author, <i>muy español</i>, is naturally <i>muy católico</i>, yet he
+protests against violence in the repression of other forms of
+religion. "Liberty should bring with it no fear." He
+believes that Spain is, above all, <i>sui generis</i>, independent and
+individual. The representative Spaniard is a free lance, striving
+and conquering by his own impulse and under his own
+direction, like the Cid of old or Cortes in the field of arms,
+like Loyola in the church, like Cervantes in letters. He lays
+stress on the achievements of Spanish art&mdash;the master paintings
+of Velázquez and Murillo, the master dramas of Lope de
+Vega and Calderon, as expressing, better than political history
+has expressed, that intensification of Spanish life resulting
+from the struggle against the Arabs "and making of our
+nation a Christian Greece."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_071" id="i_071"></a>
+<img src="images/i_071.jpg" width="587" height="416" alt="The Columbus Monument in Granada" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Columbus Monument in Granada</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>He finds it logical and right that Spain, after her successive
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span>
+periods of Roman influence, Visigothic influence, Arab influence,
+and her modern era of colonial expansion, should now
+abandon foreign policies and concentrate all her vitality within
+her own borders. Not by the sword, but by the spirit, would
+he have Spain henceforth hold sway over mankind, and especially
+over the Spanish-descended peoples of South America.</p>
+
+<p>He winces under the monopoly of the term "American"
+by the citizens of the United States&mdash;"a formidable nation,"
+he admits, "very populous, very rich, and apparently very
+well governed." He notes, in contrast, the poverty and
+comparative anarchy of the South American republics, but
+he urges still that the Spanish character, shaped through such
+eventful centuries, is an entity, clear and firm, with qualities
+well defined, whereas the Yankees are yet in the fusing pot.
+He would have all the peoples of Hispanian descent recognize
+and realize in themselves this Spanish individuality, effecting
+not a political union, but a "confederation, intellectual and
+spiritual," whose first aim should be the preservation of Spanish
+ideas and ideals, and the second, the free gift of these to all
+the nations of the earth.</p>
+
+<p>The ancient glory of Spain, he says, has vanished like a
+dream; let a new and whiter glory dawn. Her career of
+material conquest is ended. Those savage struggles have left
+her faint and spent. Let her now seek to attain, through
+purification and discipline, such fresh fulness of life as shall
+insure the triumph of her spiritual forces&mdash;her fervent faith
+and her unworldly wisdom. "Our Ulysses is Don Quixote."
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p2">V</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">IN SIGHT OF THE GIRALDA</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">"We were nearing Seville. I felt the eager throbbing of my heart. Seville had
+ever been for me the symbol of light, the city of love and joy."&mdash;<span class="smcap">Valdés</span>: <i>La Hermana San Sulpicio</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">O</span>ne of the wise sayings of Andalusia runs, "Do
+not squeeze the orange till the juice is bitter."
+And so we said good-by to Granada before we
+were ready to go, and persuaded ourselves, in defiance of
+maps and time-tables, that our shortest route to Seville led by
+Ronda. The weather did its very best to dampen our enthusiasm
+for this wildest of crag aeries, equally famed for romantic
+beauty of outlook and salubrity of air. Men live long in
+Ronda, unless, indeed, they hit against a bullet while practising
+their hereditary trade of <i>contrabandista</i>. They have a
+saying that octogenarians there are only chickens, but one
+should not believe all that they say in Ronda. Did we not
+clamber, slipping on wet stones, down a precipitous path to
+peer, from under dripping umbrellas, at what our guide declared
+was an old Roman bridge? "It doesn't look old and
+it doesn't look Roman," was the artist's dubious comment,
+but our highly recommended conductor, a Gib, as the English-Spanish
+natives of Gibraltar Rock are called, assured us that
+it was built in the days of Julius Cæsar, but had been wonderfully
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span>
+well preserved. We eyed him thoughtfully, bearing
+in mind that he had already pointed out the statue of a long-dead
+poet as a living politician; but we meekly continued
+through the lashing rain to follow his long footsteps over the
+breakneck ways of that natural fortress where race after race
+has left its autograph. The Roman columns of the church
+make the Arab cupolas look young, and put the Gothic choir
+altogether out of countenance. A bright-shawled peasant
+woman, who we fondly hoped might be a smuggler's wife,
+drew us delicious water from a Roman well in a Moorish
+patio, where a mediæval king of gentle memory used to drink
+his wine from cups wrought of the skulls of those enemies
+whom he had beheaded with his own sword. But not all this,
+and more, could efface our doubts of that Roman bridge, which,
+indeed, we found, on a belated perusal of our guide-books, had
+been erected by a Malaga architect in the last century.</p>
+
+<p>The street rabble of Ronda was the rudest and fiercest we
+encountered anywhere in Spain. Several times our guide
+wheeled suddenly to confront some gypsyish lad, creeping up
+behind us with stone all ready to throw, and when, at a glint
+of sunset through the stormy clouds, we tried to slip out unattended
+to the neighboring <i>alameda</i>, with its far-sweeping prospect
+of folded mountain ranges and its vertical view of gorge
+and rushing river, the children actually hounded us back to the
+hotel. Their leader was a scrofulous boy, with one cheek eaten
+away, who had been taught to press his face so closely upon
+strangers that, in fear of his open sore, they would hastily give
+money to keep him back. He was a merry scamp and got a
+world of sport out of his sickening business, laughing at the
+top of his voice to see himself "avoided like the sun."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Although the tempest had lulled by evening, Ronda, still
+inhospitable, would not let us sleep. All up and down the
+window-grated street sounded, from midnight to morning, a
+tinkling of guitars. It was, forsooth, St. Joseph's Day, and
+every Don José, every Doña Josefa, every little Pepe, every
+pretty Pepita, must be saluted by a serenade. All Andalusians
+are musical, taking much pleasure, moreover, in one of
+their own bits of philosophy, "The poorest player has his
+uses, for he can at least drive the rats out of the house."
+Rats or no, we left Ronda by the morning train.</p>
+
+<p>Our carriage was crowded with several Spaniards and a
+"Jew-Gib," who, without saying "<i>oxte ni moxte</i>," assumed
+full charge of us and our belongings for the journey. This
+unceremonious but really helpful escort put every one of
+his fellow-travellers through a sharp catechism as to birthplace,
+business, destination, and the like. Our turn came first
+of all. "You are English?" "We speak English."
+"Ha!" He fell into our own vernacular. "Came about
+three thousand miles to Spain?" "Across the channel."
+He chuckled with prompt appreciation of the situation and
+mendaciously translated to the carriage at large, "The
+ladies are distinguished Londoners, on their way to visit relatives
+in Seville," whereat the Andalusians smiled sleepily
+upon us and asked permission to smoke. We consented
+cheerfully, as our Spanish sisters had taught us that we
+should. "I like it," one pallid señora had said on an earlier
+trip. "It makes me sick, yes, but men ought to be
+men."</p>
+
+<p>We were journeying toward the very palace of the sun,
+with gray ranks of olive trees standing guard on either hand.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span>
+"And posted among them, like white doves, could be seen
+now and again a few mills where the bitter olive is wont to
+pour its juice." Orange plantations and hedges of the bluish
+aloe, fig trees, palms, and all manner of strange, tropical flowers
+gladdened our approach to Seville. And when, at last, we
+saw from afar the world-praised Giralda, the Moorish bell-tower
+of the cathedral, soaring pink into a purple sky, we felt
+as if we were really arrived in fairyland.</p>
+
+<p>Our friendly Gib put his tall figure between us and the
+howling press of swarthy porters and cab-drivers, scolded,
+expostulated, threatened, picked out his men, beat down their
+prices, called up a policeman to witness the bargain and take
+the number of our cab, raised his hat, and vanished into
+grateful memory.</p>
+
+<p>Six weeks in Seville! And six weeks in a Seville home,
+where evening after evening the gay youth of Andalusia
+laughed and sang, danced and rattled the castanets, and
+cast about our wondering Western souls strange witcheries
+from which we shall never more go free. It was all as
+Oriental as a dream. The Sultana of the South lifted her
+gleaming coronet of domes and pinnacles above such a
+kingdom of idle, delicious mirth as has permanently unfitted
+us for considering it important to do our duty. Our hereditary
+bits of Plymouth Rock were melted up in that fervent
+heat. Right or wrong? "Where there is music, there can
+be no harm." True or false?</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"In this world, my masters,</p>
+<p class="i1">There's neither truth nor lie,</p>
+<p>But all things take the color</p>
+<p class="i1">Of the glass before the eye."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Only six weeks, and yet we shall ever go homesick for
+Seville, for her palm trees and orange gardens, her narrow
+streets like lanes of shadow, her tiled and statued patios, with
+caged birds singing answer to the ripple of the fountain, the
+musical midnight cry of her <i>serenos</i>, "her black and burning
+eyes like beacons in the dark," her sighing serenaders, "lyrical
+mosquitoes," outside the grated window or beneath the
+balcony, her fragrances of rose and jessamine, her poetic
+sense of values. A homeless Andalusian, dinnerless and in
+rags, strums on his guitar, a necessity which he would not
+dream of selling for such a mere luxury as bread, and is
+happy. There is always sun to sleep in. There are always
+piquant faces and gliding forms to gaze after. What more
+does a mortal want? Exquisite Seville! No wonder that
+her exiled sons still sing, after years of "comfortable living"
+in foreign cities:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"When I am missing, hunt me down</p>
+<p class="i1">In Andalusia's purple light,</p>
+<p>Where all the beauties are so brown,</p>
+<p class="i1">And all the wits so bright."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Yet the old Arabian enchantment casts a glamour which
+the Anglo-Saxon vision dimly recognizes as such and faintly
+strives against. To the clear survey all is not charm. Grace,
+mirth, and music, on the one hand, are offset by ignorance,
+suffering, and vice on the other. Many evil things were told
+us, and some ugly things we saw, but to look on Andalusia is
+to love her, even while realizing that to live with her would
+put that love to a very stringent test.</p>
+
+<p>The lordly Guadalquivír, for instance, so fair to see from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span>
+the picture-making summit of the Giralda, as he lingers through
+his blooming Paradise, forgetful of the ocean, is not altogether
+goodly.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"Ay, ay, the black and stinging flies he breeds</p>
+<p>To plague the decent body of mankind!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Andalusian leisure was a perpetual delight to us. A
+typical Seville shop reaches far along the street front, with
+many open doors, and a counter running the full length.
+Here ladies sit in pairs and groups, never singly, to cheapen
+fans and mantillas, while the smiling salesmen, cigarette in
+hand, shrug and gesticulate and give back banter for banter as
+gayly as if it were all a holiday frolic. Scraps of the graceful
+bargaining would float to our ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Is the quality good?"</p>
+
+<p>"As good as God's blessing."</p>
+
+<p>Among the tempting wares of Seville are Albacete knives,
+with gorgeous handles of inlaid ebony, tortoise, or ivory.
+The peasant women of Andalusia so resent the charge of
+carrying these knives in their garters that the Seville gamin
+dodges offence by asking them in an unnecessarily loud voice
+if they carry garters in their knives. The irascible dames
+do not stand upon fine points of rhetoric, however, and when
+the small boy has delivered his shot, he does well to take to
+his heels. We once saw one of these sturdy women, while a
+line of soldiers, bristling with steel, was holding a street, seize
+a gallant son of Mars by the shoulder and swing him, amid
+the laughter of his comrades, out of her path as if he were a
+cabbage. Nobody knew how to stop her, and she trudged
+serenely on, her broad back to those helpless bayonets, down
+the forbidden way.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The beggars of Seville are gentler than those of Ronda and
+Granada, but hardly less numerous. Mendicant figures are
+thick as Guadalquivír mosquitoes in my memory of Andalusia.
+Some of those pitiful children will haunt me till I die.
+There was a forlorn urchin, with filmy, frightful eyes, to be
+seen in all weathers crouching on one side of the road leading
+up to the Alhambra, so dull and dreary a little fellow that he
+hardly grasped the coppers when they were thrust into his
+weakly groping hands, and hardly stayed his monotonous formula
+of entreaty for his other monotonous formula of thanks.
+There was an idiot child in Seville&mdash;a mere lump of deformity&mdash;that
+would rush out upon the startled stranger with
+an inarticulate, fierce little yell, clutching at charity with a
+tiny, twisted claw. He seemed the very incarnation of
+childish woe and wrong. Almost every hand dived into
+pocket for him, and he was probably worth far more to his
+proprietors than his rival on the street, a crafty little girl,
+with the most lustrous eyes that painter ever dreamed. They
+were not blue nor gray, but a living light in which both those
+colors had been melted.</p>
+
+<p>The economists, who say so firmly that "nothing should
+ever be given to mendicant children," can hardly have had
+the experience of seeing Murillo's own cherubs, their wings
+hidden under the dirt, fluttering about the car windows at
+Andalusian stations. I have it still on my conscience that I
+occasionally gave away my comrade's share of our luncheon
+as well as my own. She was too young and too polite to
+reproach me, but too hungry to be comforted by the assurance
+that I reproached myself. Sometimes a foreign traveller, very
+sure of his Spanish, would attempt remonstrance with these
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span>
+small nuisances. I remember one kindly Teuton in particular.
+Commerce had claimed him for its own, but the predestined
+German professor shone out of his mild blue eyes.
+A ragamuffin had mounted the car steps to beg at the window,
+and Mein Herr delivered him such a lecture that the youngster
+clung to his perch, fascinated with astonishment at the
+novel doctrine, until the train was in alarmingly swift motion.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_082" id="i_082"></a>
+<img src="images/i_082.jpg" width="418" height="531" alt="The Alhambra" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Alhambra. Hall of Justice</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"This is a very bad habit of thine. I told thee so a month
+ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Me, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thee, boy. When I passed over this road last, thou
+wert begging at the windows, to my shame if not to thine.
+Tut, tut! Go thy ways. Look for work, work, work."</p>
+
+<p>"Work, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Work, boy. And when thou hast found it, love it, and
+do it with a will. Learn to read and write. Wash thy face
+and change thy customs, and when thou art richer than I,
+then will I give thee a <i>peseta</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Mendicancy is bred of ignorance, and in the seventeen and
+a half millions that make up the population of Spain, more
+than twelve millions do not read nor write.</p>
+
+<p>Seville sight-seeing is no brief matter. You must climb
+the Giralda, walk in the parks, view the yellowed fragments
+of the ancient city wall, visit the tobacco factory, shop in
+<i>Las Sierpes</i>, buy pottery in Triana, see the gypsy dances in
+the cafés, attend the Thursday rag-fair, do reverence to the
+Columbus manuscripts in the <i>Biblioteca Columbina</i>, look up the
+haunts of Don Juan, Figaro, Pedro the Cruel, and explore the
+curious "House of Pilate," which, tradition says, was built by
+a pilgrim noble after the Jerusalem pattern. You must lose
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span>
+your heart to the Alcázar, the Alhambra of Seville, a storied
+palace embowered in fountain-freshened gardens of palm and
+magnolia, oranges and cypresses, rose and myrtle, with shadowy
+arcades leading to marble baths and arabesqued pavilions.
+You must follow Murillo from gallery to gallery, from
+church to church, above all, from the <i>Hospital de la Caridad</i>,
+where hang six of his greatest compositions, to the <i>Museo Provincial</i>,
+where over a score of the Master's sacred works,
+lovely Virgins, longing saints, deep-eyed Christ-Childs, rain
+their sweet influence. And first, last, and always, there is
+the cathedral. We had been stunned at Burgos, blind to all
+save the Moorish features of Cordova, almost untouched by
+the cold splendors of Granada, but to Seville, as later to Toledo,
+we surrendered utterly. Beauty, mystery, sublimity&mdash;these
+are Seville cathedral. Five centuries have gone to the
+rearing and enriching of those solemn aisles and awful choir.
+The colossal structure, second in size only to St. Peter's, is
+a majesty before which Luther himself might well have trembled.
+Within a Spanish cathedral one begins to understand
+the mighty hold of Roman Catholicism on Spain. "I love,"
+says Alarcón, whose jest and earnest are as closely twined
+as fibres of the same heart, "the clouds of incense which rise
+to the cupola of the Catholic temple, amid the harmonies of
+the holy organ. (For this I am not a Protestant.)" And
+elsewhere, writing of his childhood, he speaks of receiving in
+the cathedral of Guadix all his first impressions of artistic
+beauty,&mdash;beauty of architecture, music, painting, processional
+splendors, tissue of gold and silver, cunning embroideries
+and jewel-work, his first sense, in short, of poetry.
+And all these impressions were inextricably blent with his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span>
+first yearnings of holy aspiration, his first passion of mystical
+devotion. But not even Seville cathedral could win over our
+full sympathy. Too heavy were the faces of the priests who
+"sang the gori gori," too selfish that wigged and jointed doll,
+"Our Lady of Kings," with her sixty gorgeous mantles, a few
+of which would have clothed all the poor of Andalusia.
+Who shall draw the line between faith and superstition?</p>
+
+<p>But let not the tourist suppose he can escape his tyrant
+Baedeker even at the top of the Giralda. There are excursions
+that must be taken to points of interest outside the city.
+Most imperative of all is the trip to the ruined Roman
+amphitheatre of Italica, guarded by the mighty names of
+Scipio Africanus, Trajan, Hadrian, and Theodosius. Off
+we start, a dozen strong, in a great, open carriage, all the
+women-folk with fans and veils and with flowers in the hair.
+We rattle past the cathedral, over the bridge to Triana and
+out into the sweet-breathed country, passing many a picturesque
+group on the road,&mdash;these two peasants, for example,
+with their yellow-handled knives thrust into scarlet girdles,
+tossing dice under a fig tree. Our meditations among the
+crumbling blocks of that savage play-house would perhaps
+interest the reader less than our luncheon. Such Andalusian
+dainties as we swallowed,&mdash;cold soups like melted salads,
+home-made fig marmalade, cinnamon pastes of which the
+gypsies know the secret, and sugared chestnuts overflowed
+by a marvellous syrup wherein could be detected flavors of
+lemon peel, orange peel, and a medley of spices! In that
+scene of ancient bloodshed, of the lion's wrath and the martyr's
+anguish, we ate, drank, and were merry, but our banquet tasted
+of ghosts.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">VI</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">PASSION WEEK IN SEVILLE</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">
+"All that was gracious was bestowed by the Virgin, and she was the giver of all
+that human creatures could ask for. God frowned, while she smiled; God chastised,
+but she forgave; this last notion was by no means a strange one. It is accepted with
+almost absolute faith among the laboring classes of the rural parts of Spain."&mdash;<span class="smcap">Galdós</span>:
+<i>Marianela</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">H</span>oly week throngs Seville to overflowing. The
+devout no longer scourge themselves in public,
+sprinkling the pavements with their blood, but
+Spaniards flock from all Andalusia, from Madrid, and even
+from the northern provinces to the sunny city on the storied
+Guadalquivír. Hotel charges run from twelve dollars a day
+up to incredible figures; a mere bed in a lodging house costs
+its three dollars, four dollars, or five dollars a night, and
+fortunate are those who enjoy the hospitality of a private
+home.</p>
+
+<p>The ceremonies opened Sunday morning with the procession
+of palms. We had been told by our cathedral guide the
+day before that this procession would take place at seven or
+half-past seven at the latest, and had asked the maid to call
+us at half-past six. As the chiming bells should have warned
+us, her knock was an hour tardy, but when, breakfastless and
+eager, we reached the cathedral a few minutes after eight,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span>
+there was as yet no sign of a procession. Mass was being
+said in the Sagrario and in several chapels, and the morning
+light poured in through the rich-colored windows upon groups
+of kneeling figures before every shrine. The women wore
+black mantillas, for, although this most graceful of headdresses
+is losing credit on the fashionable promenades of
+Seville, and is almost never seen in open carriages, Holy
+Week demands it of all the faithful.</p>
+
+<p>We asked a white-robed young chorister when the procession
+would form. He answered with encouraging precision,
+"In twenty minutes." We roamed about for a half hour or
+more through those majestic spaces, beneath those soaring
+arches, aspiration wrought in stone, until by chance in that
+shifting multitude we came face to face with our guide of the
+day before. We asked how soon the procession would form.
+He said, "In twenty minutes," and we went home for
+coffee.</p>
+
+<p>When we returned the procession was streaming out of the
+cathedral into the street of the <i>Gran Capitán</i>. It was simple
+and all the more attractive for that simplicity. The colors
+of standards and vestments were mainly purple and gold, and
+the long, yellow fronds of palm, blown by the fresh breeze
+from the river, gleamed brighter than the sheen of candle or
+of mitre. Turning the corner, the procession, now facing
+the beautiful Giralda, entered by the ample Door of Pardon,
+still incrusted with its Arabic decorations, into the Court of
+Oranges, whose ripe fruit gave new touches of gold to the
+picture.</p>
+
+<p>Venders of palm were stationed in every sheltered corner,
+selling their wares, more than twice the height of a man, at
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span>
+fifteen cents the frond, while boys, darting about with armfuls
+of olive, were glad to take a cent the branch, and not have
+the best of their leafy store filched from them by sly old
+women, more intent, like the rest of us, on getting a blessing
+than deserving it.</p>
+
+<p>Through the multitude the glittering palms and purple
+robes swept on back into the cathedral, where the silent and
+remote archbishop, an image of gold in his splendid apparel,
+shed his benediction not only over the proud palms, but over
+every spray of "little gray leaves," like those of Gethsemane.
+These blessed palms, sprinkled with holy water and wafting
+strange fragrances of incense, would be carried home and
+kept in myriad balconies all the year through, to protect the
+house from "the all-dreaded thunder-stone."</p>
+
+<p>That Sunday afternoon at five o'clock we were leaning out
+expectantly from our host's best balcony. With the constant
+Spanish courtesy, he had betaken himself, with the children
+of the household, to a less commanding balcony below, and
+his eldest son had considerately withdrawn, accompanied by
+his fiancée, to a mere speck of a balcony above. This left a
+dozen of us, Spanish, English, and American, to enjoy as
+good a view as the city afforded of the processional tableaux.</p>
+
+<p>The oblong <i>Plaza de la Constitución</i>, the scene in days gone
+by of many a tournament, <i>auto de fe</i>, and bull-fight, is bounded
+on one side by the ornate Renaissance façade of the city hall,
+and on the other, in part, by the plain front of the court-house,
+before which criminals used to be done to death. Private
+dwellings, with their tiers of balconies, one of which had
+fallen to our happy lot, cross the wider end of the <i>plaza</i>,
+while the other opens into the brilliant street of <i>Las Sierpes</i>,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span>
+too narrow for carriages, but boasting the gayest shop windows
+and merriest cafés of all the town.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>plaza</i>, always animated, fairly rippled with excitement
+this Palm Sunday afternoon. The grand stand, erected in
+front of the city hall, was filled, although many of the camp-chairs
+and benches placed in thick-set rows on the farther
+side of the line of march were not yet rented. Thursday and
+Friday are the days that draw the multitudes. The crowd
+was bright with uniforms, most conspicuous being the spruce
+white-edged, three-cornered hats and dark-blue, red-faced coats
+of the civil guard. Venders of peanuts, peanut candy, macaroons,
+caramels, and all manner of <i>dulces</i> swung their baskets
+from one sweet-toothed Spaniard to another, while wisely the
+water-seller went in their wake, with the artistic yellow jar
+over his shoulder. One young pedler was doing a flourishing
+business in crabs, the customers receiving these delicacies
+in outstretched pocket handkerchiefs.</p>
+
+<p>Busy as our eyes were kept, we were able to lend ear
+to the explanations of our Spanish friends, who told us that
+the church dignitaries, after the procession of palms, took
+no official part in the shows of Passion Week, although
+many of the clergy belonged, as individuals, to the religious
+brotherhoods concerned. The church reserves its street displays
+for Corpus Christi. These brotherhoods, societies of
+ancient origin, and connected with some church or chapel,
+own dramatic properties often of great intrinsic value and
+considerable antiquity.</p>
+
+<p>For days before Holy Week one may see the members
+busy in the churches at the task of arranging groups of sacred
+figures, vested as richly as possible in garments of silk and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span>
+velvet, with ornaments of jewels and gold, on platforms so
+heavy that twenty-five men, at the least, are needed to carry
+each. These litters are escorted through the principal streets
+and squares of the city by their respective societies, each
+brotherhood having its distinctive dress. It is customary for
+every <i>cofradia</i> to present two pageants&mdash;the first in honor of
+Christ; the second, and more important, in honor of Mary,
+to whom chivalrous Spain has always rendered supreme homage;
+but sometimes the two tableaux are combined into one.</p>
+
+<p>After long watching and waiting we saw, far down <i>Las
+Sierpes</i>, the coming of the first procession. A line of police
+marched in advance to clear the road. Then appeared a
+loosely ordered company of fantastic figures in blue capes
+and blue peaked caps, absurdly high and reaching down to
+the shoulder, with holes cut for the eyes. From beneath the
+capes flowed white frocks, and the gloves and sandals were
+white. These "Nazarenes," who looked like a survival of
+the Carnival, conducted in silence a litter upon which was
+erected an image of the crucified Christ, with face uplifted
+as if in prayer.</p>
+
+<p>The pageant halted before the doors of the city hall to
+greet the Alcalde, who rose from his red velvet chair and
+bared his head. Men uncovered, and people stood all along
+the route, but acclamations were reserved for Our Lady of
+the Star. Her attendant troop was dressed like the preceding,
+with a star embroidered in white on the shoulder of the blue
+tunic. Her litter was ablaze with candles and laden with
+flowers; her outsweeping train was upborne by four little
+pages, and a brass band followed her with unceasing music.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_091" id="i_091"></a>
+<img src="images/i_091.jpg" width="406" height="625" alt="Filling the Water-Jars" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Filling the Water-Jars</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Sunset colors were in the sky before the procession of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span>
+second brotherhood arrived. At last, far down the <i>Sierpes</i>,
+the dusk was dotted with the gleam of many tapers, and above
+these, most impressive in the dim distance, glimmered a white
+figure high upon the cross. As the pageant drew near, waves
+of incense rolled out upon the air. The crash of trumpets
+and deep boom of drums announced that Our Lady of the
+Angels was advancing upon the same platform with her Son,
+for music in these Passion Week processions is always a sign
+of the presence of the Virgin. The brothers of this retinue
+wore black, save that their peaked caps were purple.</p>
+
+<p>As twilight gathered, a company of strange dark shapes
+bore past in solemn hush the Most Holy Christ of the Waters.
+The Saviour hung upon the cross, an angel receiving in a
+golden cup the blood from his wounded side. Then her
+great banner of white and blue heralded the approach of Our
+Lady of the Utter Grief, who passed with her accustomed
+pomp of lights and music, holding to her eyes a handkerchief
+said to be of the most exquisite lace.</p>
+
+<p>Night had fallen when, at eight o'clock, a maid left on vigil
+called us all from the dinner table to see the beautiful procession
+of white-robed figures conducting Our Father Jesus of
+the Silence. The figure of Christ, resplendent in gold and
+purple, stood before Herod, whose mail-clad soldiers guarded
+the prisoner. The Roman costumes were so well copied,
+and all the postures and groupings so startlingly natural, that
+<i>vivas</i> went up all along the crowded square. As the banner
+of the Virgin saluted the Alcalde, her attendants let fall their
+long white trains, which swept out quite six yards behind,
+reaching from one brother to the next and yielding a wonderfully
+fine effect in the slow march. Our Lady of the Bitterness,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span>
+toward whom leaned the tender look of St. John, was
+robed in superb brocade, so precious that her train, which
+stood stiffly out behind, was guarded by a soldier with drawn
+sword.</p>
+
+<p>This closed the ceremonies of Palm Sunday, and the
+throng, catching one from another the blithe, sweet Andalusian
+melodies, went singing softly through the darkness on
+their various ways.</p>
+
+<p>After Palm Sunday a secular quiet fell upon Seville, not
+broken until Wednesday. At five o'clock this March afternoon
+it was still so hot that few people were rash enough to
+move about without the shelter of parasols. Sevillian priests,
+sombre-robed as they were, sauntered cheerily across the <i>plaza</i>
+under sunshades of the gayest hues, orange, green, azure, red,
+and usually all at once, but the shamefaced Englishmen
+flapped up broad umbrellas of an uncompromising black.
+There was a breezy flutter of fans on the grand stand, the
+water-sellers had to fill their jars again and again, and the
+multitude of smokers, puffing at their paper cigarettes to cool
+themselves, really brought on a premature twilight.</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly seven before a score of gendarmes, marching
+abreast, cleared the way for the procession. Then appeared,
+in the usual guise, some twenty feet apart, two files of those
+strange shapes, with high, peaked caps, whose visors descended
+to the breast, slowly advancing, with an interval of about six
+feet from man to man. Their caps and frocks were black,
+but the long capes glowed a vivid red. They carried the
+customary lighted tapers, so tall that, when rested on the
+ground, they reach to the shoulder. Midway between
+the files walked a cross-bearer, followed by a Nazarene, who
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span>
+uplifted the standard of St. Andrew's Cross in red on a black
+ground. Bearers of other insignia of the order preceded the
+great litter, on which, under a golden palm tree, was represented
+by life-size effigies the arrest of Christ among His
+Disciples, St. Andrew having the foremost place. The
+second pageant presented by this brotherhood was accompanied
+by bevies of white-robed boys swinging censers and
+chanting anthems. Then came, in effulgence of light, the
+Most Holy Virgin, escorted, as if she were the earthly Queen
+of Spain, by a detachment of the Civil Guard, whose white
+trimmings and gold belts gleamed in the candle rays.</p>
+
+<p>The remaining three <i>cofradias</i> that had part in the Wednesday
+ceremonies exhibited but one pageant each. A troop
+in black and gold conducted a Calvary, with Mary Mother
+and Mary Magdalene both kneeling at the foot of the cross,
+robed in the richest velvet. Figures in white, with stripes of
+red, came after, with a yet more costly Calvary. The well-carved
+crucifix rose from a gilded mound, and Our Mother
+of Healing wore a gold crown of exceeding price. But the
+third Calvary, all wrought in black and gold, the colors of
+the brotherhood, which were repeated in standard and
+costume, won the plaudits of the evening. Here Longinus,
+the Roman centurion, mounted on a spirited horse, was in the
+act of piercing with his lance the Saviour's side. Amid <i>vivas</i>
+and <i>bravos</i> this Passion picture passed, like its predecessors,
+in clouds of incense and peals of solemn music.</p>
+
+<p>On Thursday the wearing of black was almost universal.
+We rummaged our shawl straps for some poor equivalent of
+the Spanish black silks and black mantillas. The Civil
+Guard was more superb than ever in full-dress uniform, with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span>
+red vests and white trousers. No sound of wheels was
+suffered within the city limits, and late arrivals had to
+commit their luggage to a porter and follow him on foot.</p>
+
+<p>At three o'clock, in the Sagrario of the cathedral, the archbishop
+washed the feet of thirteen old paupers, who sat in
+two confronting rows, looking neat as wax and happy as
+honey, each dressed in a brand-new suit, with a long-fringed
+damask towel over his shoulder. Their old blood had been
+warmed by the archbishop's own wine, for they had just
+come from luncheon in the ecclesiastical palace, where they
+had been served by the highest dignitaries of the church and
+the proudest nobles of the city. The function of foot washing
+was not taken too seriously. The fat canons smiled
+good-humoredly on their archbishop, as his group of attendants
+lowered him to his knees and lifted him again before
+every old man in turn, and the acolytes nudged one another
+with boyish mirth over the rheumatic, embarrassed efforts of
+the beneficiaries to put on their stockings.</p>
+
+<p>A Franciscan friar mounted the pulpit, however, and
+turned the congregation, thickly sprinkled with English
+visitors, serious enough by a succinct and fiery sermon, saying,
+in a nutshell, that love is the glory of the religious life,
+but is the fruit only of Catholicism, for nowhere, though one
+searches the world over, can there be found a work of mercy&mdash;hospital,
+asylum, endowed school, charity of any sort or
+kind&mdash;due to Protestantism. And the old paupers, glancing
+down at their new suits and feeling the glow of their banquet,
+were glad to the tips of their purified toes that their lots had
+been cast in Catholic Spain.</p>
+
+<p>By six o'clock the squares and streets along the processional
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span>
+route were thronged again, although our Spanish
+friends assured us that the numbers were less than usual.
+The war feeling kept the Americans and, to some extent, the
+English away, while many of the Spanish of the provinces,
+who were accustomed to take their annual outing in Seville
+during the <i>Semana Santa</i>, were held at home this year by
+poverty or mourning.</p>
+
+<p>The first two pageants of the afternoon, those of the bull-fighters
+and the cigarette-makers, were awaited with especial
+eagerness. For these Seville brotherhoods, more than thirty
+in all, still maintain something of the mediæval structure of
+the guilds. Just as in England and France, from the
+eleventh to the fifteenth century, or thereabouts, organized
+companies of craftsmen used to present in Passion Week
+successive scenes from the life of Christ, these Spanish
+<i>cofradias</i> to-day maintain such general lines of division in
+performing a similar function. Yet any Catholic Sevillian
+may, if he chooses, secure admission to any of these societies,
+irrespective of his occupation. The young <i>caballero</i> who
+chanced to be our prime source of information this Thursday
+afternoon was himself of a prominent family, a protégé of
+the archbishop, and a student of law, yet he belonged to the
+brotherhood of Fruit Venders, although his devotion seemed a
+little languid, and he had excused himself on this occasion
+from the long march in the breathless Nazarene garb.</p>
+
+<p>Not all the brothers feel bound to perform this penitential
+service every Passion Week, and, indeed, not all the brotherhoods.
+Several of the most elaborate pageants were missing
+from the ranks this year. Such omissions are not as disastrous
+to the processional effect as they would have been in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span>
+England, for example, some six centuries ago. Then the
+gilded and tapestried platforms, set on wheels, which the
+processions conducted through the streets, were really stages,
+and at the halting places the best actors of each guild played
+upon its particular platform an appointed scene from the
+sacred drama. The sequence of events was duly observed,
+and the spectator, standing in market-place or at street corner,
+while one theatre after another rolled by him, saw acted out
+with much finery of wardrobe and ingenuity of machinery,
+with tragic dialogue and declamation, relieved by comic interludes,
+all the Bible story, from the revolt of Lucifer to the
+Day of Judgment. But modern Spain, abandoning the acting
+and recitation and substituting puppets for living men,
+has let slip the dramatic sequence, so that a few pageants less
+means only so much abatement in the general splendor of the
+spectacle.</p>
+
+<p>The bull-fighters of Andalusia are eminently religious and
+are said, likewise, to be remarkable for their domestic virtues.
+All their manly fury is launched against the bull, and they
+have only gentleness left for wives and children. I have
+heard no better argument for the bull ring. At all events,
+these <i>toreros</i>, marching soberly in black, with yellow belts,
+escorted with well-ordered solemnity an image of the crucified
+Christ, followed by a queenly effigy of Our Lady of
+Refuge, erect behind terraced ranks of candles on a flower-strewn
+litter, under a costly canopy of black velvet embroidered
+with gold. The cigarette-makers came after with their
+two pageants, Christ fastened to the pillar, and Our Lady of
+Victory.</p>
+
+<p>It was, as usual, the second upon which the main expense
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span>
+had been lavished. A great company of acolytes, richly clad
+and swinging censers of pure silver, went in advance of the
+Virgin, and three bands of music followed her with continuous
+acclaim, while a regiment of soldiers attended as a guard
+of honor. Immediately in front of the <i>paso</i> went, surrounded
+by officers and aides, General Ochando, his head uncovered
+and his breast glittering with decorations, for the young king
+of Spain is a member of this <i>cofradia</i>, and had sent the distinguished
+military governor of the Provinces, who has a palace
+in Seville, to represent him. Especial enthusiasm was called
+out by this image of Mary, for the cigarette-makers had just
+presented her with a new mantle at a cost of nine thousand
+dollars. The brothers were willingly aided by the seven
+thousand women who work in the immense tobacco factory,
+the average contribution of each donor being two <i>centimos</i>
+(two-fifths of a cent) a week during the preceding year. No
+wonder that the Virgin seemed to stand proudly upon her silvered
+pedestal, her gorgeous new mantle streaming out until
+it almost touched the head of a white-vested girl who walked
+barefoot close behind the litter, so fulfilling a vow made in
+extremity of illness.</p>
+
+<p>Black and white were the banners and costumes of the
+third procession, very effective through the deepening dusk.
+Their leading pageant was a Gethsemane, famous for the
+beauty of the carving. Christ is represented in prayer before
+an angel, who bears in one hand the cross and in the other
+the cup of bitterness, while Peter, James, and John are sleeping
+near their Master. These Passion groups are, with a few
+exceptions of still earlier date, works of the seventeenth century,
+the glorious period of Spanish art, the day of Murillo and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span>
+Velázquez. The most and best are from the hand of the
+Sevillian Montañés, of chief repute in the Spanish school of
+polychrome sculpture, but this Gethsemane was carved by his
+imitator, Roldan, whose daughter, La Roldana, is accredited
+with the figure of the angel and with the reliefs that adorn the
+pedestal.</p>
+
+<p>Another Virgin, who, like all the rest, seemed a scintillation
+of gold and jewels, swept by, and a new troop of Nazarenes,
+this time in purple and white, passed with two august pageants,&mdash;the
+Descent from the Cross and the Fifth Anguish of Mary.
+Then came two files of ash-colored figures, who marshalled,
+between their rows of starry tapers, each taper bending toward
+its opposite, a vivid presentation of the Crowning with Thorns;
+and, after this, their Mary of the Valley, noted for the gracious
+sweetness of her countenance. This image is held to be one
+of Montañés's masterpieces in wood-carving.</p>
+
+<p>Five processions had now passed, with their two pageants
+each, and the hour was late, but we could not leave the balcony
+for anything so commonplace as dinner. Far down the
+street of <i>Las Sierpes</i> waved a river of lights, announcing the
+advent of the most ancient of all the Sevillian brotherhoods,
+Jesus of the Passion. The crowded <i>plaza</i> rose in reverence
+as the Crucifixion <i>paso</i> was borne by, and Our Lady of Mercy,
+too magnificent for her name, was greeted with rapturous outcries.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_102" id="i_102"></a>
+<img src="images/i_102.jpg" width="624" height="372" alt="Off for the War" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Off for the War</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Just how and when and where something in the way
+of food was taken, I hardly know, but as this, the last of
+the Thursday evening processions, passed in music out of the
+<i>plaza</i>, a few of us made speed by a deserted side street to the
+cathedral. We were too late for the <i>Miserere</i>, which was just
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span>
+closing in that surprising hubbub, the stamping of feet and
+beating of canes and chairs against the floor, by which Spanish
+piety is wont to "punish Judas." But we took our station
+near by the entrance to the Royal Chapel, wherein had been
+erected the grand Holy Week monument, in white and gold,
+shaped like a temple, and shining with innumerable silver
+lamps and taper lights. Within this monument the Host,
+commonly spoken of in Spain as <i>Su Majestad</i>, had been solemnly
+placed the night before, much as the mediæval church
+used to lay the crucifix, with requiems, under the High Altar
+on Good Friday, and joyously bring it forth again Easter
+morning. But Spanish Catholicism is strangely indifferent to
+dates, burying the Host on Wednesday and celebrating the
+Resurrection Saturday.</p>
+
+<p>All day long the Royal Chapel had been filled with relays
+upon relays of kneeling worshippers, and the hush there had
+been so profound that the hum of the tourist-haunted nave
+and the tumult of the streets seemed faint and foreign to the
+hearing, like sounds a universe away. Before this chapel
+entrance all the pageants, as they were borne in silence
+through the cathedral, paused and did homage to the Host.
+Having outstripped the procession, we had arrived in season
+to witness three of these salutations. The Nazarenes, in
+passing, fell upon their knees in the light of the great, gleaming
+monument, and each of the heavy platforms was slowly
+swung about so that it faced this symbol of Christ's
+sepulchre.</p>
+
+<p>Yet there was something besides devotion in the cathedral.
+As the crowd pressed close, we felt, more than once, a fumbling
+at our pockets, and the little artist lost her purse. The
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span>
+rest of us comforted her by saying over and over that she
+ought to have known better than to bring it, and by severally
+relating how cautious we had been on our own accounts.</p>
+
+<p>It was hard upon eleven when we returned to the house,
+but the streets were all alive with people. I went to the balcony
+at midnight, and again at the stroke of one, and both
+times looked down upon a <i>plaza</i> crossed and recrossed in all
+directions by talkative, eager groups. Many of these restless
+promenaders had been able to get no lodgings, and were walking
+to keep warm. The pressure upon the hotels was so
+great that one desperate stranger this Thursday night paid
+twenty dollars for a cot from ten o'clock till two, and private
+hospitality was taxed to a degree that nothing but Spanish
+courtesy and good-nature could ever have endured. In the
+house which harbored us, for instance, we were all fitted in
+as compactly as the pieces of a puzzle, when the unexpected
+friends began to arrive.</p>
+
+<p>On Wednesday there appeared from the far north a man
+and wife, acquaintances of ten years back. Our host and
+hostess greeted this surprise party with Andalusian sunshine
+in their faces, and yielded up their own room. Thursday
+morning there walked gayly in one of the son's university
+classmates from Madrid. Don Pepe embraced him like a
+brother, and surrendered the sofa, which was all he had left to
+give. And this Thursday midnight, as a crowning touch,
+three more chums of college days came clattering at the bell.
+Their welcome was as cordial as if the household were pining
+for society. The tired maids, laughing gleefully over the
+predicament, contributed their own mattresses and pillows,
+and made up beds on the study floor, where Don Pepe camped
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span>
+out with his comrades, to rise with a headache that lasted for
+days after.</p>
+
+<p>By two o'clock I had taken my station on the balcony for
+an all-night vigil. The most of the family bore me company
+for the cogent reason that they had nowhere to sleep, but the
+other guests of the house held out for only an hour or two,
+and then went blinking to their repose. My memory of the
+night is strangely divided between the dreamlike, unearthly
+pomps and splendors streaming through the square below and
+the kindly, cheery people who came and went about me. The
+señora, still fresh and charming, although she has wept the
+deaths of fourteen out of her nineteen children, was merrily
+relating, with weary head against her husband's shoulder, her
+almost insuperable difficulties in the way of furnishing her
+table. The milkman roundly declared that if she wanted a
+double quantity of the precious fluid (and goat's milk at that),
+she must make it up with water. There was no meat to be
+had in the Catholic city during these holy days, and even her
+baker had forsaken his oven and gone off to see the sights.
+And the black-bearded señor, who, like his wife, had not been
+in bed for forty odd hours, laughed at her and comforted her,
+puffed harder than ever at his cigarette, and roguishly quoted
+the saying, "He whom God loves has a house in Seville."</p>
+
+<p>By two o'clock the seats on the grand stand were filling
+fast, the <i>plaza</i> hummed with excitement, the balconies resounded
+with song and laughter, and the strong electric lights
+in front of the city hall cast a hard, white brilliance over all
+the scene. The frying of <i>calientes</i>, an Andalusian version of
+twisted doughnuts, was in savory progress here and there on
+the outskirts of the throng, and our ever thoughtful hostess
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span>
+did not fail to keep her balcony well supplied with these
+crisp dainties.</p>
+
+<p>The twinkling of taper lights, so warm and yellow under
+those pallid globes of electric glare, appeared while people
+were still hurrying to their places; but hundreds upon hundreds
+of black and gold figures had paced by before the first
+of their <i>pasos</i> came into view. For these processions of the
+dawn, <i>de madrugada</i>, call out great numbers of the devout,
+who would thus keep the last watch with their Lord. The
+clocks struck three as the leading pageant, a very ancient
+image of Christ, bearing a silver-mounted cross of tortoise-shell,
+halted before the Alcalde. A white banner wrought
+with gold heralded the Virgin, who rose, in glistening attire,
+from a golden lake of lights.</p>
+
+<p>The wealthy <i>cofradia</i> of San Lorenzo followed in their
+costly habits of black velvet. They, too, conducted a
+pageant of Christ bearing His cross, one of the most beautiful
+groups of Montañés, the pedestal adorned with angels in
+relief. To the Christ, falling on the Via Dolorosa, the
+brotherhood, with the usual disregard of historic propriety,
+had given a royal mantle of ermine, embroidered with gold and
+pearls. A large company of black-clad women, carrying
+candles, walked behind the <i>paso</i>, on their penitential march
+of some eight hours. Many of them were ladies delicately
+bred, whose diamonds sparkled on the breast of the approaching
+Mary. For the Sevillian señoras are accustomed to lend
+their most valuable gems to their favorite Virgins for the
+<i>Semana Santa</i>, and San Lorenzo's Lady of Grief is said to
+have worn this night the worth of millions. She passed amid
+a great attendant throng, in such clouds of incense that the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span>
+eye could barely catch the shimmer of her silver pedestal, the
+gleam of the golden broideries that almost hid the velvet of
+her mantle, and the flashes and jets of light that shot from
+the incredible treasure of jewels that she wore.</p>
+
+<p>The third troop of Nazarenes, robed in white and violet,
+bore for banner a white cross upon a violet ground. Their
+Christ-pageant pictured Pilate in his judgment seat in the act
+of condemning the Son of God to death. Jesus, guarded by
+armed soldiers, calmly confronts the troubled judge, at whose
+knee wait two little pages with a basin of water and towels.</p>
+
+<p>And now came one of the most gorgeous features of the
+Holy Week processions&mdash;a legion of Roman soldiers, attired
+as never Roman soldiers were, in gold greaves and crimson
+tunics, with towering snow-white plumes. But a splendid show
+they made as, marching to drum and fife, they filed down <i>Las
+Sierpes</i> and stretched "in never ending line" across the <i>plaza</i>.
+Our most Holy Mary of Hope, who followed, wearing a fair
+white tunic and a gold-embroidered mantle of green, the color
+of the hopeful season, drowned the memory of that stern
+military music in a silver concert of flutes.</p>
+
+<p>After this sumptuous display, the fourth band of Nazarenes,
+gliding through the <i>plaza</i> between night and day in their garb
+of black and white, could arouse but little enthusiasm, although
+their Crucifixion was one of the most artistic, and their
+Lady of the Presentation had her poorest garment of fine
+satin.</p>
+
+<p>A pearly lustre was stealing through the sky, and the chill
+in the air was thinning the rows of spectators on the grand
+stand, when mysterious, dim-white shapes, like ghosts, bore
+by in utter silence a pageant of Christ fainting beneath the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span>
+burden of the cross. But soon the clamor of drums and fifes
+ushered in another long array of Roman soldiers, a rainbow
+host in red and pink and blue, crimson plumes alternating
+with white, and golden shields with silver. The electric
+lights, globed high overhead, took one look at this fantastic
+cavalcade and went out with a gasp.</p>
+
+<p>It was now clear day. Canaries began to sing in their
+cages, and parrots to scream for chocolate. Sleepy-eyed servant-maids
+appeared on the balconies, and market women,
+leading green-laden donkeys, peered forth from the side streets
+into the square. The morning light made havoc with the
+glamour of the pageants. Something frank and practical in
+the sunshine stripped those candle-lighted litters of their dignity.
+Busy people dodged through the procession lines, and
+one Nazarene after another might be seen slipping out of the
+ranks and hurrying awkwardly, in his cumbersome dress, with
+the half-burned taper under his arm, to the refuge of his
+own mosquito-netting and orange tree. The tired crowd grew
+critical and irreverent, and openly railed upon the Virgin of
+this ghostly <i>cofradia</i> because her velvet mantle was comparatively
+plain. "Bah! how poor it is! Are we to sit here all
+the night for such stingy shows as that?"</p>
+
+<p>But the last brotherhood in the <i>madrugada</i> processions had,
+with their white frocks and blue caps and capes, suited themselves
+to the colors of the day. The stumbling children,
+blind with sleep, whom fathers were already leading off the
+square, turned back for a drowsy gaze at the resplendent tunic
+of the Christ in the Via Dolorosa <i>paso</i>, a tunic claimed to be
+the richest of all the garments worn by the effigies of Jesus.
+So lovely was this trooping company in their tints of sky and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span>
+cloud, bearing a great blue banner and a shining ivory cross,
+that they brought order and decorum with them.</p>
+
+<p>The division that escorted the Virgin marched on with
+especial steadiness, not a peaked cap drooping, nor a boyish
+acolyte faltering under the weight of his tall gilded censer.
+This most Holy Mary of Anguish, whose litter and canopy
+were all of white and gold, swept by in triumphal peals of
+music while the clocks were striking six. In some mental
+confusion, I said good night to the people I left on the balcony,
+and good morning to the people I met on the stairs, and ate
+my breakfast before I went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed as if human nature could bear no more; the eyes
+ached with seeing, and phantasmal processions went sweeping
+through our dreams; yet Friday afternoon at five o'clock
+found our balcony, like all the rest, full to overflowing.
+Some twenty thousand people were massed in the <i>plaza</i>, and it
+was estimated that over one hundred thousand waited along
+the line of march. Our Spanish entertainers, still unrefreshed
+by any chance for sleep, were as gayly and punctiliously attentive
+to their guests as ever, from our gallant host, who presented
+the ladies with fragrant bouquets of roses and orange
+blossoms, to the little pet of the household, who at the most
+engrossing moments in the ceremonial would slip away from
+her privileged stand on a footstool against the railing to
+summon any member of the party who might be missing the
+spectacle.</p>
+
+<p>The Spanish colors floated out from city hall and court-house,
+but the great concourse below was all in hues of
+mourning, the black mantillas often falling over dresses of
+plain purple. The señoritas in the balconies had substituted
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span>
+knots of black ribbon for the customary flowers in the hair.
+Jet trimmings abounded, and the waving fans were black.</p>
+
+<p>The coming procession, we were assured on every hand,
+would be the most solemn of all and the most sumptuous.
+The habits of the Nazarenes would be of satin, silk, and velvet.
+The images of Christ and the Virgin would be attired
+with all possible magnificence of damask and ermine, gold
+and jewels. Brotherhood would vie with brotherhood in
+splendor, and one prodigy of luxury would succeed another.</p>
+
+<p>The leading company, whose far-trailing robes carpeted the
+street with fine black velvet, stood for the olive industry.
+This <i>cofradia</i> had been poor and unimportant for generations,
+but in recent years a devoted brother, a manufacturer of olive
+packing-barrels, had poured forth his accumulated fortune
+upon the society, with the result that their <i>pasos</i> are now
+second in ostentation and expense to none. The donor, long
+since too feeble to bear his taper in the line, lives in humble
+obscurity, but his old heart swells with joy this great day of
+the year when he sees, following the elaborate carving of the
+Crucifixion, the dazzling chariot of Our Lady of Solitude.
+Upon her mantle, which enjoys the proud distinction of being
+the very costliest of all, he has lavished twenty thousand dollars.
+Longer by a yard than any of the others, it was yet unable
+to find place for all the gold which the zealous Nazarene
+had given for it, and the residue was bestowed about the pedestal
+and canopy. The <i>paso</i> is so heavy with gold that it requires
+a double force of men to carry it; but each of these hidden
+bearers, getting air as best he can through a silver breathing-tube,
+is sure of a dollar for his recompense as well as two
+glasses of good wine.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_111" id="i_111"></a>
+<img src="images/i_111.jpg" width="424" height="541" alt="Looking toward the Darro" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Granada. Looking toward the Darro</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span>All the adornment of the litter is of pure gold, and such
+wealth of jewels glinted from the Virgin's glorious raiment
+that a triple force of Civil Guards was detailed for her protection.
+Her ardent worshipper has denied her nothing.
+The very columns that uphold her canopy are exquisite in
+carving, and it is his yearly pride to see that her clouds of
+incense are the thickest, and her train of musicians the most
+extended, in all that glittering line.</p>
+
+<p>The second <i>cofradia</i> exhibited but a single pageant, relying
+for effect upon the beauty of the sculpture. The Mater Dolorosa
+was bowed in her desolation at the foot of the Holy Rood,
+from which hung only the white folds of the winding-sheet.</p>
+
+<p>But the third brotherhood had bethought themselves to
+introduce, between their austere Crucifixion and their shining
+image of Mary, another preposterous parade of Roman soldiers&mdash;flower-colored,
+plume-tossing, butterfly creatures far
+too bright, if not too good, "for human nature's daily food."
+One whiff from Cæsar's iron breast would have blown them
+away like soap bubbles.</p>
+
+<p>The silversmiths trooped by in graver, more majestic state,
+their purple velvet habits girded with gold cords. Upon a
+gilded pedestal, wrought with high relief, was seen their
+Christ, bowed beneath a precious cross of tortoise-shell and
+silver. Our Lady of Expectation gleamed with gold and gems,
+and this haughty brotherhood received a full meed of applause.</p>
+
+<p>Black from top to toe was the fifth procession. Their
+Jesus of the Via Dolorosa bent beneath a sombre cross of
+ebony embossed with gold, but the blithe young voices of the
+countless choir-boys, singing like birds before the dawn, ushered
+in a sun-bright image of Mary.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But something was amiss with the processional order.
+Where were the stately ranks of Montserrat? Alas and
+alas! Scarcely had this aristocratic <i>cofradia</i> gone a hundred
+paces from their chapel when, in the narrow street of Murillo,
+a leaning candle touched the lace skirt of the Virgin and
+instantly all the front of the litter was in flames. It was
+hardly a matter of minutes. From the balconies above were
+dashed down pailfuls and pitcherfuls of water. The Nazarenes,
+wrenching away the blue velvet mantle wondrously
+embroidered in gold with castles, lions, and <i>fleurs de lis</i>, succeeded
+in rescuing a ragged half of it, and the Civil Guards,
+drawing their swords and forming a circle about the smoking
+litter, saved the jewels from robbery. Perhaps the other
+<i>paso</i>, too, Christ of the Conversion of the Penitent Thief,
+had some protecting influence. But in all this ado about her
+finery, the poor Virgin's face, beloved for its winsome look,
+was completely burned away. In sorry plight Our Lady of
+Montserrat was hurried back to her chapel, and the swift rumor
+of the disaster sent a superstitious trouble through the city.</p>
+
+<p>But more and more solemnly the taper-bearing troops of
+Nazarenes poured by with the culminating pictures of the
+Passion. These last three <i>cofradias</i> presented each a single
+pageant. An escort in dark purple conducted an impressive
+Descent from the Cross. The Virgin, her crowned head
+bowed in anguish, clasps the drooping body of Christ to her
+heart, while John and Mary Magdalene look on in hopeless
+sorrow. Figures in black and white came after, with their
+sixteenth-century carving, Christ of the Dying Breath, beneath
+the cross standing Our Lady of Tears. And last of all,
+in slow, sad movement, their white trains streaming like a line
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span>
+of light along the stone-paved way, passed the second brotherhood
+of San Lorenzo, bearing the Most Blessed Virgin in her
+Solitude. The gold of her mantle seemed one with the gold of
+the candle rays, and, for many a silent watcher, those gliding,
+gleaming, spiritlike forms will move forever down a shining
+path in memory. So closed the Holy Week processions.</p>
+
+<p>"How sorry I am," said our host, with the Andalusian
+twinkle in his eye. "It is almost eleven o'clock. Ladies
+and gentlemen, will you please walk out to dinner?"</p>
+
+<p>On Saturday morning we went early to the cathedral for
+the closing rite. The Sagrario was thronged. Some of the
+señoras had brought low folding chairs with them, others
+sat upon the floor, but most of that innumerable congregation
+knelt or stood. We were all facing the great purple veil
+which concealed the high altar, with Roldan's retablo of the
+Descent from the Cross. There was an hour or more of
+expectation, during which rosaries slipped through the fingers
+of many a veiled nun, and the soft murmur of prayer came
+from strong men as well as from pale-faced women. Suddenly,
+while a shock of thunder crashed from the organ, hidden
+ministrants sharply drew on hidden cords, the purple
+curtain parted in the midst, and the two folds rolled asunder,
+revealing the high altar, with its carving of the accomplished
+Passion. The organ poured forth jubilees of victory, all the
+bells of the cathedral pealed together, <i>Gloria in Excelsis</i> soared
+in choral chant, and amid the awe-stricken multitudes fallen
+to their knees, <i>Su Majestad</i> was borne in priestly procession
+from the tomb in the Royal Chapel to the candles and incense
+which awaited at the high altar that triumphal coming.</p>
+
+<p>Easter Sunday was celebrated by a bull-fight.</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">VII</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">TRACES OF THE INQUISITION</p>
+
+<div class="poem p2">
+<p class="o1">"I live a life more great than I.</p>
+<p>The life I hope is life so high,</p>
+<p>I die because I cannot die."</p>
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<i>Santa Teresa de Jesús.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">A</span>ll Spaniards venerate the name of <i>Isabel la Católica</i>,
+nor is the impressionable De Amicis the only foreigner
+who has trembled and wept at Granada
+before the enshrined memorials, jewel box, mirror, missal, and
+crown, of her royal womanhood. She is a precious figure in
+Spain's sunset revery&mdash;a saint beneath a conquering standard,
+a silken lady in a soldier's tent. Yet this peerless queen,
+merciful, magnanimous, devout, "the shield of the innocent,"
+caring supremely for the glory of God and the good of
+her country, gave consent, albeit reluctant, to the establishment
+of the Inquisition, Christianity's chief scandal and
+Spain's most fatal blight. So ironic were the stars of Isabel.</p>
+
+<p>The Inquisition, it is true, originated in Italy early in the
+thirteenth century and followed the flight of some of the
+Albigenses into Aragon, but its work in Spain had been comparatively
+slight and merciful until the "Catholic Kings," in
+the interests of religious reform, for the purification of the
+national faith, let its horrors loose. Wherever one moves in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span>
+Spain the sickening breath of the <i>auto de fe</i> lingers in the air.
+In such a square, we read, was once a mighty bonfire of Jews;
+beneath our feet, we are told, is a mass of human bones and
+cinders. This sunshiny Seville, with her parks and patios,
+her palms and orange groves, a city seemingly fashioned only
+for love and song, had her army of nearly twoscore thousand
+martyrs, who, dressed in the hateful <i>San Benitos</i>, yellow coats
+painted with flames and devils, were burned to death here in
+our gay <i>Plaza de la Constitución</i>, then known as the <i>Plaza de
+San Francisco</i>, and in the <i>Quemadero</i> beyond the walls. As
+one mingles with some outdoor throng, all intent on pageant,
+dance, or other spectacle, one shudders to remember that
+just such dark, eager faces were ringed about the agonies of
+those heroic victims. For there are two sides to the Spanish
+Inquisition. If Spaniards were the inquisitors, Spaniards,
+too, were the dauntless sufferers. The sombre gaze of the
+torturer was met, as steel meets iron, by the unflinching eye
+of the tortured. But "the unimaginable touch of Time"
+transforms all tragedy to beauty, and red poppies, blowing on
+the grassy plain of the <i>Quemadero</i>, translate into poetry to-day
+that tale of blazing fagots.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes the victims were of foreign blood. Hakluyt
+has preserved the simple narratives of two English sailors,
+who were brought by their Spanish captors from the Indies as
+a sacrifice to the Holy House of Seville. One, a happy-go-lucky
+fellow, Miles Phillips, who had been too well acquainted
+in Mexico with the dungeons of the Inquisition, slipped over
+the ship's side at San Lúcar, made his way to shore, and boldly
+went to Seville, where he lived a hidden life as a silk-weaver,
+until he found his chance to steal away and board a Devon
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span>
+merchantman. The other, Job Hortop, added to his two
+years of Mexican imprisonment two more years in Seville.
+Then "they brought us out in procession, every one of us
+having a candle in his hand, and the coat with S. Andrew's
+cross on our backs; they brought us up on an high scaffold,
+that was set up in the place of S. Francis, which is in the
+chief street of Seville; there they set us down upon benches,
+every one in his degree, and against us on another scaffold
+sate all the Judges and the Clergy on their benches. The
+people wondered, and gazed on us, some pitying our case,
+others said, burn those heretics. When we had sat there
+two hours, we had a sermon made to us, after which one
+called Bresinia, secretary to the Inquisition, went up into the
+pulpit with the process, and called Robert Barret, ship-master,
+and John Gilbert, whom two Familiars of the Inquisition
+brought from the scaffold before the Judges, where the secretary
+read the sentence, which was that they should be burnt,
+and so they returned to the scaffold, and were burnt.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I, Job Hortop, and John Bone, were called, and
+brought to the place, as before, when we heard our sentence,
+which was, that we should go to the Galleys, and there to
+row at the oar's end ten years, and then to be brought back
+to the Inquisition House, to have the coat with S. Andrew's
+cross put on our backs, and from thence to go to the everlasting
+prison remediless.</p>
+
+<p>"I with the rest were sent to the Galleys, where we were
+chained four and four together.... Hunger, thirst, cold,
+and stripes we lacked none, till our several times expired, and
+after the time of twelve years, for I served two years above
+my sentence, I was sent back to the Inquisition House in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span>
+Seville, and there having put on the coat with S. Andrew's
+cross, I was sent to the everlasting prison remediless, where
+I wore the coat four years, and then upon great suit I had it
+taken off for fifty duckets, which Hernando de Soria, treasurer
+of the king's mint, lent me, whom I was to serve for it as a
+drudge seven years."</p>
+
+<p>But this victim, too, escaped in a fly-boat at last, and on
+a certain Christmas Eve, about the time when people in
+London were beginning to like the comedies of a certain poor
+player, one Will Shakespeare, did Job Hortop, Powder-maker
+and Gunner, walk quietly, after twenty-three years of martyrdom,
+into the village of Redcliffe, where he had been a ruddy
+English boy with no dream of the day when he should be
+"prest forth" by Sir John Hawkins and compelled, sore
+against his will, to embark for the West Indian adventure.</p>
+
+<p>Religious liberty now exists under the laws of Spain,
+although the administration of those laws leaves much to be
+desired. In three old conventual churches of Seville gather
+her three Protestant congregations. Beneath the pavements
+of two of these heretic strongholds old inquisitors sleep what
+uneasy sleep they may, while one of the Protestant pastors,
+formerly a Catholic priest, has quietly collected and stored in
+his church-study numerous mementos of the Holy Office. Here
+may be seen two of those rare copies of the 1602 revision
+of the Spanish Bible, by Cipriano de Valera, whom the
+Inquisition could burn only in effigy, since the translator,
+who had printed his book in Amsterdam, did not return to
+accompany the Familiars to the <i>Quemadero</i>. Here are old
+books with horrible woodcuts of the torments, and time-stained
+manuscripts, several bearing the seal and signatures
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span>
+of the "Catholic Kings," these last so ill written that it is
+hard to tell the name of Ferdinand from that of Isabella.
+Among these are royal commissions, or licenses, granted to
+individual inquisitors, records of <i>autos de fe</i>, and wills of rich
+inquisitors, the sources of whose wealth would hardly court
+a strict examination. Here, too, is the standard of the Holy
+Office, the very banner borne through Seville in those grim
+processions. Its white silk is saffroned now, but the strange
+seal of the Inquisition, a bleeding Christ upon the cross, is
+clearly blazoned in the centre, while the four corners show
+the seal of San Domingo.</p>
+
+<p>The Inquisition prison, the dreaded Holy House of Seville,
+is used as a factory at present, and heresy no longer secures
+admission there; but I looked up at its grated windows, and
+then, with a secret shiver, down on the ground, where the
+Spanish pastor of antiquarian tastes was marking out with his
+cane the directions of the far-branching subterranean cells.
+We slipped into an outer court of the <i>fabrica</i>, where the two
+gentlemen, effectively aided by a couple of sturdy lads, pried
+up and flung back a sullen door in the pavement and invited
+me to grope my darkling way down some twenty crumbling
+steps, overgrown with a treacherous green mould. There was
+no refusing, in face of the cloud of witnesses whose groans
+these stones had heard, and I took a heart-breaking plunge
+into the honeycomb of chill, foul-smelling, horror-haunted
+dungeons, whose roofs let fall a constant drip of water and
+from whose black recesses I was the unwilling means of
+liberating a choice variety of insects.</p>
+
+<p>"But even yet one cannot call one's self a Protestant in
+Spain, you know," said an English diplomat to us in another
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span>
+city of Andalusia. "It's not socially respectable. Spanish
+Protestants are the very scum of the earth&mdash;illiterate, dirty,
+boorish. You couldn't associate with them for a minute."</p>
+
+<p>"But that Spanish pastor who called on us yesterday was
+entirely a gentleman," we remonstrated. "He has studied
+for seven years in Switzerland and Scotland, seems more
+open-minded and intelligent than most Spaniards we have
+met, and was so courteous and graceful in his bearing&mdash;not
+to mention the whiteness of his linen&mdash;and so entertaining
+in his talk, that the Spanish ladies in the room chorussed his
+praises, after he had bowed himself out, and declared him
+most delightful company."</p>
+
+<p>The diplomat twirled his mustache and smiled, as only
+diplomats can. "And you owned up that he was a Protestant?
+And their faces darkened as if a storm-cloud had
+blown over from the Sierras?"</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely so," we admitted, "and after that the best they
+could say for him was that they never would have thought it."</p>
+
+<p>The diplomat claimed that he had made his point, while we
+protested that the incident only went to show how unreasonable
+was the prejudice of whose existence throughout Spain
+there can be no manner of doubt.</p>
+
+<p>Perez Galdós, for instance, the most popular novelist of
+the day, stated to an American friend, who repeated it to us,
+that he frankly could not afford to introduce the figure of a
+Protestant into one of his stories. "It would not only kill
+that book," he said, "but it would hurt the sale of everything
+I have in the market and embarrass all my future undertakings.
+I should simply be risking the loss of my reading
+public." And yet Señor Galdós is the author of "Doña
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span>
+Perfecta," that artistic study of the conflict between new
+ideas and old in Spain. In this significant novel, a civil
+engineer, a man of thirty, whose scientific education in the
+large cities of Seville and Madrid has been supplemented by
+study in Germany and England, comes to one of those mediæval
+towns, or corpses of towns, that rise so spectre-like from the ash-colored
+plains of Old Castile. Crumbling walls and blackened
+towers jealously guard the life of ages since, that feudal life
+of high and low, pride of station, pride of animal prowess,
+pride of holiness, pride of idleness, pride of ignorance; the
+life of superstition, of family exclusiveness resulting in intermarriage
+to the point of insanity; of that fierce local bigotry,
+peculiarly Spanish, which dreads and hates all foreign intrusion.
+The streets, devoid of business activity, swarm with
+vigorous mendicants, who have no better shift, when times
+grow hard, than to deform the children who are born to them
+like kittens in their mud-walled hovels. The casino, where
+half the town smokes half its time away, hums with malicious
+gossip. The university languidly pursues the studies of Latin,
+scholastic divinity, Church history, and all that savors of the
+past. Under the gray vault of the cathedral women kneel
+before the image of the Christ Child, bringing Him a new
+pair of embroidered pantalets and entreating of His rosy
+simplicity what they would not dare ask from the "Ecce
+Homo"; or they kiss the satin-slippered feet of the miracle-working
+Virgin and vow her, if their prayer is granted, seven
+bright new swords of the finest Toledo workmanship to pierce
+her patient heart. The man of scientific training, fresh from the
+modern world, is brought into sharp collision with this dim
+old town. High principles and essential, spiritual Christianity
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span>
+count him for nothing; he is speedily denounced as no
+better than "a murderer, an atheist, or a Protestant," and
+his strong young life is actually beaten out by that blind,
+terrible force of Spanish fanaticism. So far the novelist can
+go; such a hero he dares paint; but not a Protestant.</p>
+
+<p>The notions of Protestantism prevalent among the people,
+not the peasants only, but the gentry, are little short of ludicrous.
+A black-eyed lady of Cadiz was amazed at our
+assertion that Protestants prayed. A Madrid señorita asked
+us, in friendly confidence, if it were true that Protestants
+"denied Christ and spat on the Virgin." The popular
+identification of Protestantism with all that is impious and
+criminal we encountered as early as our second afternoon in
+Spain. We were visiting, in the picturesque fishing-hamlet
+of Pasajes, a gaunt Basque church, where the old dame who
+served as caretaker showed us a waxen image of a sleeping
+girl, said, not without probability, to have been brought from
+Rome. Beneath the figure is a burial stone, whose inscription
+would locate it in the Catacombs. When friends of
+ours were at Pasajes some three years before, the grandam's
+story ran that the image was the likeness of a Christian martyr,
+slain by her pagan father at Rome in the time of the Imperial
+persecutions; but the tale glibly recited to us was this:
+"<i>Ay de mi!</i> The poor young lady! Her father was a
+Protestant, and, of course, hated religion, and when his
+daughter, so beautiful, was on her way to her first communion,
+he hid behind a corner, with an axe, and of a sudden jumped
+out on her and struck her dead."</p>
+
+<p>It is such prejudice that goes far toward justifying the maintenance
+by foreign societies of Protestant churches in Spain.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span>
+They cannot stand alone, in face of all this hostility, and yet
+the country has need of them. No European nation can
+nowadays be shut in to any single channel of religious life,
+and doubtless, apart from all questions of creed, there are
+Spanish temperaments to which the simpler <i>culto</i> is more natural
+than the elaborate ritual of Rome; but, waiving discussion
+as to the relative gifts and graces of these two great
+divisions of Christ's fellowship, the new seems essential, not
+for itself alone, but as a stimulus and corrective to the old.
+Time may make it clear that a purified Roman Catholicism
+is better suited to the Latin races in general than plainer rites
+and less symbolic worship, but there are heavy counts against
+the Roman Catholic Church as it exists in Spain. The private
+lives of the clergy, as a class, have been so open to
+reproach that even the finger-games and nonsense songs of
+the little children, learned with their baby lispings, mock
+priestly immorality. The Church, steward of untold wealth,
+has endowed many charities, but the fundamental trust of
+knowledge it has most sluggishly and inadequately dispensed.
+Santiago de Compostela, for example, is a very nest of religious
+foundations. Thirty-six Christian fraternities are gathered
+there, yet we were told on good authority that not one
+peasant in a hundred of those within hearing of Santiago's
+fivescore and fourteen holy bells can read and write. In
+matters of State, the Church has utterly lost the allegiance
+of the progressive party and, to a large extent, the political
+confidence of the nation. As Spaniards study the history of
+their country, they realize more and more that her colossal
+mistakes and misfortunes have been due in large measure to
+Jesuit and Dominical policy&mdash;to the father confessor in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span>
+royal chamber, the inquisitor in shadow of the throne. With
+reference to the success of the Church in promoting spiritual
+life, a beautiful young nun, her eyes glistening like happy
+stars, assured us that there was more devotion in Catholic
+Spain than in all the rest of Christendom. A scientist of
+repute, his voice choking with grief and wrath, declared to
+us that the fetters of superstition had become hopelessly
+riveted, during these ages of Church control, on the Spanish
+mind. But call it what you will, devotion or superstition,
+and admitting, as the tourist must, that it is a most
+conspicuous and impressive feature of Spanish life, there are
+nevertheless thousands of Spaniards, especially the younger
+men, over whom it has lost sway. These are the <i>indiferentes</i>,
+many of whom might find, as some have found, in a
+fresh presentation of Christianity, the Godward impetus
+which they no longer gain from the Church of Rome.</p>
+
+<p>The most cheerful <i>indiferente</i> I encountered in Spain was
+a whimsical old philosopher, well on his way to the nineties,
+yet so brisk and hardy as almost to vie with Borrow's Portuguese
+dame whose hair "was becoming gray" after a life of
+one hundred and ten years. His hair, indeed, is white, and
+extreme age has written its deforming marks on face and
+figure, yet he runs up the steepest stairs, reads the finest print,
+fills his days with a close succession of labors and amusements,
+and scoffs at religion as airily as if Death had passed
+him on the crowded way and would never turn back to look
+for him again.</p>
+
+<p>At our first meeting he offered, with characteristic kindness,
+to come and read Spanish with me. As I had invaded
+Spain for the express purpose of studying the Spanish drama,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span>
+I took a volume of Calderon from my trunk and hopefully
+awaited his visit. But it was a matter of several visits before
+I could open my Calderon. The jaunty old cavalier arrived,
+brimming over with chat and anecdote, and when at last I
+hinted at the reading, produced with pride from his inner
+coat pocket a little, paper-bound <i>geografia</i> that he had written
+himself for use in the Spanish schools, and proceeded to regale
+me with extracts from its pages. I looked severely at the little
+artist, whose eyes were dancing in a demure face, and endeavored
+to profit by this unexpected course of instruction. The
+author chuckled much over his sagacity in having arranged
+the subject-matter of his book in paragraphs and not by
+question and answer. In the latter case, he explained, the
+children would learn the answers without reading the questions,
+a process bound to result in geographical confusion.
+The little volume, as is the wont of school books in other
+lands, tended to give to its students a disproportionate idea
+of the importance of their own country. Spain and her
+colonies were treated in seventy pages, Great Britain and
+her colonies in three, France in four, while America, from
+Greenland to Patagonia, was handled as a single entity, one
+figure each, and those absurdly small, being set for "her
+population, army, and navy." The <i>Confederación de los Estados
+Unidos</i> was barely mentioned as one of the five "States"
+of North America.</p>
+
+<p>But the only feature of his book for which the author
+felt called upon to apologize, was the catering to popular
+superstition, as in stating, for instance, that in the Cathedral
+of Santiago de Compostela is adored the veritable body of
+St. James. He cast a quizzical glance at me in reading this,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span>
+and then laughed himself purple in the face. "One has to
+say these things in this country," he gasped, still breathless
+from his mirth. "Drops of water must run with the stream.
+If only there were a shrine where people might be cured of
+being fools!"</p>
+
+<p>Quick-witted as the old gentleman was, he presently detected
+a lack of geographical enthusiasm in his audience.
+His literary vanity smarted for a moment and then he fell to
+laughing, declaring that ladies always had a distaste for useful
+information. "That old wife of mine" could not abide
+arithmetic. He digressed into an explanation of the Roman
+notation, making it quite clear to us wherein IX differs from
+XI, and with antiquated courtliness of phrase, even for Spain,
+asked our gracious permission to cause himself the pain of
+departure.</p>
+
+<p>He often reappeared. His wiry arm, reached through the
+Moorish bars of the outer door, would give its own peculiarly
+energetic twitch to the bell chain looped within. A maid,
+leaning over the railing of an upper story, would call down
+the challenge inherited from good old fighting times, "Who
+comes here?" And his thin voice would chirp the Andalusian
+answer, "Peace."</p>
+
+<p>On his second visit he fairly gurgled with pleasure as he
+placed another volume with his name on the title-page before
+me. Since I did not incline to solid reading, behold him equally
+ready to supply me with the sweets of literature! This, too,
+was a school book, a somewhat haphazard collection of Castilian
+poems, with brief biographies of the authors represented.
+Its novel educational feature was the printing of each poem
+in a different type. The result was a little startling to the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span>
+eye, but the editor was doubtless right in claiming that it
+made the reading harder for the children, and so developed
+their powers through exercise. Here, again, he was ashamed
+of the fact that fully two-thirds of the poems were religious.</p>
+
+<p>"But what can one do in this country?" he asked testily.
+"All the reading books have to be like that. Bah! But we
+will not read these pious verses. The others are much more
+entertaining."</p>
+
+<p>Determined not to wound him again by any lack of interest
+in books of his own shaping, we sat patiently through
+page after page of that juvenile school reader; but when, with
+a pamphlet on spelling and punctuation, we had completed
+the list of his works, I once more called his attention to
+Calderon.</p>
+
+<p>This struck him as a capital joke. He had never read
+Calderon himself, he had hardly heard of Calderon, and that
+a foreigner, a woman at that, should insist on reading Calderon,
+was funny enough to make his old sides ache. There
+were modern authors in plenty who must certainly write much
+better than an out-of-date fellow like that. He had books that
+he could lend me. He had friends from whom he could
+borrow. But nothing would please me but Calderon! Why
+under the fanciful moon should I set my heart on Calderon?</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Bueno!</i>" he cried at last, whisking the mirthful tears
+from his eyes. "<i>Vamos á ver!</i> Let us go on and see!"</p>
+
+<p>We opened the classic volume at the Catholic Faust-drama,
+<i>El Mágico Prodigioso</i>, and began to read, soon passing into the
+great argument between Cipriano and Lucifer as to the nature
+of God. Our guest, sensitive to all impressions as he was,
+became immediately amazed and delighted.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But this is lofty!" he exclaimed. "This is sublime!
+Good, Cipriano, good! Now you have him! What will
+the devil say to that? <i>Vamos á ver!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>At the close of that tremendous scene he shut the book,
+fairly panting with excitement. But nevertheless there was
+a twinkle in his eye. He knew now why I craved this Calderon.
+He was evidently a religious writer, and women were
+all religious. It was an amiable feminine weakness, like the
+aversion to geography and arithmetic. But his indulgent
+chivalry rose to the occasion. Having learned my taste,
+such as it was, he would gratify it to the utmost.</p>
+
+<p>"If you would only come and see my library!" he proposed.
+"I have exactly the book there that will please you.
+I have not read it myself, but it is very large, with most
+beautiful pictures, and it tells these old stories about Lucifer
+and all that. I am sure it is just what you would like.
+Will you not do your humble servant the honor of coming
+to-morrow afternoon?"</p>
+
+<p>I ran over in my mind our engagements for the morrow.
+He mistook the cause of my hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed you need not be afraid to come," he urged.
+"My house is as safe as a convent. That old wife of mine,
+too, will be sure to be somewhere about. And you can bring
+the silent señorita with you."</p>
+
+<p>I was aware of a slight convulsion in "the silent señorita."
+She could speak all the Spanish she chose, but she found the
+eccentricities of this visitor so disconcerting that she affected
+ignorance, and he supposed her mute presence at our interviews
+to be purely in deference to the Spanish proprieties.</p>
+
+<p>My youthful chaperon, much elated by this reversal of our
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span>
+natural positions, duly attended me the next day to our
+friend's surprisingly elegant home. He was forever crying
+poverty and telling us, with the tears that came to his old
+age as easily as the laughter, how the hardships of life had
+beaten out of him every ambition save hope to "gain the
+bread" until his death, but we found him luxuriously housed,
+and I was afterward informed that he was one of the richest
+men in the city.</p>
+
+<p>He ran with that wonderful sprightliness of his across the
+marbled court to meet us, and ceremoniously conducted us up
+the handsome staircase. He led us through all "our house,"
+typically Andalusian, with statues and urns of blossoming trees
+set in the open patios, with Moorish arches and bright-hued
+tiles, shaded balconies, tapestried and curtained beds, <i>braseros</i>,
+and rocking-chairs, and in every room images and paintings
+of the saints, at which he made irreverent grimaces.</p>
+
+<p>There were family portraits, too, before three of which he
+broke down into weeping&mdash;the son who had died in the
+prime of manhood, the daughter lost in her fair maidenhood,
+and, where the stormy sobs shook him from head to foot, the
+Benjamin of his heart, a clear-eyed young officer who had
+fallen in the Cuban war. The tears were still streaming
+down the quivering old face when we turned silently away&mdash;for
+what word of comfort would Americans dare to speak?&mdash;and
+followed him to his study.</p>
+
+<p>He was of extravagant repute in his locality as a scholar
+and a man of letters, and his study was what a study ought
+to be,&mdash;well furnished with desk, pigeon-holes, all the
+tools of literary labor, and walled with books. Among these
+was an encyclopædia in which, to his frank astonishment, he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span>
+found an article of fifteen pages on Calderon. The great
+volume we had come to see lay open on a reading stand. It
+was a Spanish Bible, with the Doré illustrations. I wanted
+to look at the title-page, but our eager host, proud to exhibit
+and explain, tossed over the leaves so fast that I had no
+opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>As he was racing through the Psalms, impatient because
+of their dearth of pictures, my eye was caught by the familiar
+passage, "As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so
+panteth my soul after Thee, O God."</p>
+
+<p>With prompt curiosity, he popped down his white head, in
+its close-fitting skullcap, to see what I was noting, and
+instantly went off into an immoderate gust of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Muy bien!</i>" he wheezed, as soon as he could recover
+anything like a voice. "But that is very cleverly put. He
+was a witty fellow who wrote that. Just so! Just so!
+The deer goes to the water because he means to get something
+for himself, and that is why the young men go into the
+priesthood, and why the women go to mass. It's all selfishness,
+is religion. But how well he says it!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no!" I exclaimed, for once startled into protest.
+"He is saying that religion is the impulse of thirst."</p>
+
+<p>The incorrigible old worldling took this for another jest,
+and, as in gallantry bound, laughed harder at my sally than
+at poor King David's.</p>
+
+<p>"Excellent! Perfect! So it is! So it is! Religion is
+the impulse to fill one's own stomach. Just what I have
+always said! 'As the hart panteth after the water brooks'&mdash;ho,
+ho! I must try to remember that."</p>
+
+<p>His enthusiasm for Calderon soon kindled to a flame. As
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span>
+the plot thickened he ceased to be of the slightest help in any
+difficulties that the text might offer. In vain I would beseech
+him to clear up some troublesome passage.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never mind!" he would say, vexed at the interruption.
+"They didn't write very well in those old days. And
+I want to know which of her three suitors Justina took.
+Three at once! What a situation! <i>Vamos á ver!</i> I hope
+it will be Cipriano."</p>
+
+<p>As the spell of Calderon's imagination passed more and
+more strongly upon him, this most sympathetic of readers
+quite accepted, for the time being, the poet's Catholic point
+of view, trembling for Cipriano and almost choking with
+agitated joy when Justina, calling in her extremity upon the
+name of God, put Lucifer to flight. But after we had read
+the drama to the end, through its final scene of triumphant
+martyrdom, he sat silent for several minutes, and then shook
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Not true; it is not true. There is no devil but the evil
+passions of humanity. And as for Cipriano's definition of
+God&mdash;it is good, yes; it is great, yes; but who can shut
+God into a definition? One might as well try to scoop up
+the ocean in a cocoanut shell. No! All religions are human
+fictions. We have come, nobody knows whence or why, into
+this paltry, foolish, sordid life, for most of us only a fight to
+gain the bread, and afterward&mdash;<i>Bueno!</i> I am on the brink
+of the jump, and the priests have not frightened me yet.
+Afterward? <i>Vamos á ver!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>This man had heard of Protestantism simply as an ignorant
+notion of the lower classes. For the typical Spanish Protestant
+of to-day presents a striking contrast to the typical Spanish
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span>
+Protestant of the Reformation. When heresy first entered
+the Peninsula, it gained almost no footing among the common
+people, who supposed Luther to be another sort of devil and
+the Protestants a new variety of Jews or Moors; but the rank
+and learning of Spain, the youthful nobility, illustrious preachers
+and writers, officers and favorites of the Court, even men
+and women in whose veins flowed the blood royal, welcomed
+with ardor the wave that was surging over Europe. The very
+eminence of these heretics sealed their doom. The Inquisition
+could not miss such shining marks. The Holy Office
+did its work with abominable thoroughness. Apart from the
+countless multitudes whom it did to death in dungeon and
+torture-chamber, it burned more than thirty thousand of the
+most valuable citizens of Spain and drove forth from the
+Peninsula some three millions of Jews and Moors. The <i>autos
+de fe</i> were festivals. Among the wedding pomps for the French
+bride of Philip II, a girl thirteen years old, was one of these
+horrible spectacles at Toledo. The holiday fires of Seville
+and Valladolid drank the most precious blood of Andalusia and
+Castile. Though Saragossa had a mind to Huguenot fuel;
+though Pamplona, on one festal day, heaped up a holocaust of
+ten thousand Jews; though Granada, Murcia, and Valencia
+whetted their cruel piety on the Moors who had made the
+southern provinces a garden of delight; yet in all these cities,
+as in Toledo, Logroño, and the rest, the Spanish stock itself
+was drained of its finest and most highly cultivated intelligence,
+its sincerest conscience, purest valor, its most original and independent
+thought. Spain has been paying the penalty ever
+since. Her history from Philip II has been a judgment day.</p>
+
+<p>No root of the Lutheran heresy survived in the Peninsula.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span>
+The new Protestantism does not spring from the old. The
+blood of the Spanish martyrs was not the seed of the Spanish
+church. The Protestant of to-day is far removed, socially
+and politically, from the courtiers, marquises, knights of Santiago&mdash;those
+gallant cavaliers who were stripped upon the
+scaffold of their honorable decorations and clad in the yellow
+robe of infamy. This nineteenth-century Protestant may be
+a lawyer or a journalist, but by exception. Ordinarily he is a
+petty farmer, a small shop-keeper, mechanic, miner, day-laborer,
+of humble calling and of lowly life. In politics he is almost
+surely a republican. When the monarchy was overthrown,
+in '68, Protestantism was, for the moment, in favor, and
+hundreds of the triumphant party hastened to profess the
+reformed faith. With the return of a Roman Catholic court
+and perhaps upon the discovery that the new Christianity,
+too, has its burden and its yoke, many fell away.</p>
+
+<p>Yet Protestantism has now an assured footing in Spain.
+Protestant churches may be found in most of the important
+cities. There are some fifty foreign preachers and teachers in
+the field, aided by nearly eighty Spanish pastors and colporteurs.
+The number of Spanish communicants is between
+three and four thousand, the church attendance is reckoned
+at nine thousand, and there are five thousand Spanish children
+in the Protestant schools. Several centres have been established
+for the sale of Bibles and Protestant books, and six or
+seven Protestant periodicals are published and circulated. In
+answer to the continual Romish taunt that Protestantism is
+a war of sects, a house divided against itself, a Protestant
+Union was organized at Madrid in the spring of 1899. All,
+save two, of the fifteen missions, supported by various societies
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span>
+of Great Britain, Germany, Switzerland, and America,
+joined hands in this. Only the Plymouth Brethren and the
+Church of England held aloof.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_136" id="i_136"></a>
+<img src="images/i_136.jpg" width="620" height="401" alt="A Milkman of Granada" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">A Milkman of Granada</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Inquisition exists no longer. Religious liberty, even
+in Spain, has the support of law. Yet still the Spanish Protestant,
+this poor, plain Protestant of to-day, as obscure as
+those Galilean fishermen whom the Master called, is harassed
+by petty persecutions. Children sing insulting verses after
+him in the street, especially that pious ditty:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"Get away with you, Protestants,</p>
+<p class="i1">Out of our Catholic Spain,</p>
+<p>That the Sacred Heart, the Sacred Heart,</p>
+<p class="i1">May love our land again."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>He is jealously watched on the passing of "His Majesty
+the Wafer" and pursued with mud and spittings if he fails to
+do it homage. College boys rub charcoal over the front of
+his chapel and stone his schoolroom windows; work is refused
+him; promotion denied him; his rent is higher than his
+neighbor's, yet not his neighbor's family nor his landlord's
+cross his threshold. If scorn can burn, he feels the <i>auto de fe</i>.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">VIII</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">AN ANDALUSIAN TYPE</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">
+"'True,' quoth Sancho: 'but I have heard say there are more friars in heaven
+than knights-errant.' 'It may be so,' replied Don Quixote, 'because their number is
+much greater than that of knights-errant.' 'And yet,' quoth Sancho, 'there are abundance
+of the errant sort.' 'Abundance indeed,' answered Don Quixote, 'but few who
+deserve the name of knights.'"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Cervantes</span>: <i>Don Quixote</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">I</span>t might have been in Seville, though it was not, that I
+met my most <i>simpático</i> example of the Andalusian. He
+was of old Sierra stock, merry as the sunshine and
+gracious as the shadows. Huge of build and black as the
+blackest, he was as gentle as a great Newfoundland dog, until
+some flying spark of a word set the dark fires blazing in his
+eyes. This was no infrequent occurrence, for the travelling
+Englishman, as frank as he is patriotic, cannot comprehend
+the zest with which well-to-do Spaniards, even in time of
+war, escape military service by a money payment. Not the
+height and girth of our young giant, nor his cordial courtesy
+and winning playfulness, shielded him from the blunt question,
+"Why didn't you go over to Cuba, a great fellow like
+you, and fight for your flag?" His usual rejoinder was the
+eloquent Southern shrug of the shoulder, twist of the eyebrow,
+and waving lift of the hand, with the not easily answerable
+words, "And to what good?" But now and then the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span>
+query came from such a source or was delivered with so keen
+a thrust that his guarded feeling outleaped reserve. The sarcasms
+and mockeries that then surged from him in a bitter
+torrent were directed chiefly against Spain, although the
+American eagle rarely went scot-free. "Ah, yes, it is a
+fine fowl, that! He has the far-seeing eye; he has the philanthropic
+beak and claw!" But it was the golden lion of
+Spain against which his harshest gibes were hurled&mdash;"<i>un animal
+doméstico</i>, that does not bite."</p>
+
+<p>No one of the party was a tithe as outspoken as our Spaniard
+himself in condemning the errors of the Spanish campaign
+or censuring the methods of the Spanish Government. If he
+turned angrily toward a criticism from a foreigner, it was
+only, in the second instant, to catch it up like a ball and toss
+it himself from one hand to the other&mdash;like a ball that burns
+the fingers.</p>
+
+<p>Such wrath can easily be the seamy side of love, and, in a
+way, the man's national pride was measured by his national
+shame; but always over these outbursts there brooded that
+something hopelessly resigned, drearily fatalistic, which seems
+to vitiate the Spanish indignation for any purposes of practical
+reform. To suggestions of sympathy he responded with a
+pathetic weariness of manner, this handsome young Hercules,
+so radiant with the joy of life, who, in his normal mood,
+sprinkled mirth and mischief from him as a big dog shakes off
+water drops.</p>
+
+<p>"What can one do? I am a Spaniard. I say it to myself
+a hundred times a day. I am a Spaniard, and I wish my
+country were worth the fighting for, worth the dying for.
+But is it? Is it worth the toothache? God knows the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span>
+truth, and let it rest there. Oh, you need not tell me of its
+past. It was once the most glorious of nations. Spaniards
+were lords of the West. But&mdash;ah, I know, I know&mdash;Spain
+has never learned how to rule her colonies. He who
+sows brambles reaps thorns. The Church, too, has done
+much harm in Spain&mdash;not more harm than another. I am
+a Catholic, but as I see it, priests differ from other men only
+in this&mdash;in the café sit some bad men and many good, and in
+the choir kneel some good priests and many bad. The devil
+lurks behind the cross. But Spain will never give up her
+Church. It is burned in. You are a heretic, and like my
+figure, do you not? It is burned in. There is no hope for
+Spain but to sink her deep under the earth, and build a new
+Spain on top. And why do I not work for that new Spain?
+How may a man work? There is talk enough in Spain as it
+is. Most Spaniards talk and do no more. They go to the cafés
+and, when they have emptied their cups, they draw figures on
+the tables and they talk. That is all. The new Spain will
+never come. What should it be? Oh, I know better what
+it should not be. It should have no king. A republic&mdash;that
+is right. Perhaps not a republic precisely like America.
+It may be," and the melancholy sarcasm of the tone deepened,
+"there could be found something even better. But
+Spain will not find it. Spain will find nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"What can one do? I know Spain too well. Now,
+hear! I am acquainted with a <i>caballero</i>. I have been his
+friend ten years and more. But he has had the luck, not I.
+For, first, when we were at the university, he had a fortune
+left to him. He became betrothed to a señorita whom he
+loved better than his eyelashes. He travelled for his pleasure
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span>
+to Monte Carlo, and played his fortune all away in one week.
+He came back to Madrid, and went to one of the Ministers,
+to whom his father had in former days done a great service.
+My friend said: 'I am to marry. The lady expects to share
+the fortune which I have lost. My position is not honorable.
+I must have an opening, a chance to redeem myself,
+or I shall stand disgraced before her.' The Minister sent him
+to one of the Cuban custom-houses, and in two years he
+returned with great wealth. On his wedding journey he
+spent a night at Monte Carlo and gambled it away to the
+last <i>peseta</i>. A stranger had to lend him money to get home
+with his bride. Was he not ashamed and troubled?
+Ashamed? I do not know. But troubled? Yes, for he
+wanted to play longer. Every one is as God has made him,
+and very often worse. Again he went to the Minister, whose
+heart was softer than a ripe fig and who found him a post in
+the Philippines. This time he made a fortune much quicker
+than before, knowing better how to do unjustly, but a few
+weeks before the war he came home and lost it all again at
+Monte Carlo. And now he is horribly vexed, for it is another
+Minister, and, besides, there are no colonies to enrich
+him any more.</p>
+
+<p>"What use to care for Spain? No, no, no, no, no! Spain
+is a good country to leave&mdash;that is all. And you do well to
+travel in Spain. American ladies like change, and Spain is
+not America. Here you are not only in a different land, but
+in a different century. You can say, when you come out,
+that you have been journeying a hundred years ago."</p>
+
+<p>On another occasion one of those pleasant individuals who
+would, as the Spaniards say, "talk of a rope in the house of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span>
+one who had been hanged," saw fit to entertain the dinner-table
+with anecdotes of Spanish cruelty.</p>
+
+<p>"But Spaniards are not cruel," protested our young blackamoor
+in his softest voice an hour later, stroking with one
+great hand the head of a child who nestled against his knee.
+"What did that English fellow mean? Why should any one
+think that Spaniards are cruel?"</p>
+
+<p>I ran over in mind a few of the frightful stories of Las
+Casas, that good Dominican friar who would not hold his
+peace when he saw the braining of Indian babies and roasting
+of Indian chiefs. I remembered how De Soto tossed his
+captives to the bloodhounds, and what atrocities were wrought
+in the tranquil realm of the Incas; I recalled the horrors of
+the Inquisition, but these things were of the past. So I
+answered, "Perhaps the bull-fights have done something to
+give foreigners that impression."</p>
+
+<p>Unlike many educated Spaniards who would rather attend
+the bull-fights than defend them, he squared his shoulders for
+an oration.</p>
+
+<p>"The bull-fights? But why? Bull-fights are not cruel&mdash;not
+more cruel than other sports in other countries. I
+have been told of prize-fights in America. I beg your
+pardon. I see by your look that you do not like them.
+And, in truth, I do not altogether like the bull-fights. The
+horses! They are blindfolded, and it is short, but I have
+seen&mdash;ah, yes! You would not wish to hear what I have
+seen. I have been often sorry for the horses. Yet some
+pain is necessary in everything, is it not? In nature, perhaps?
+In society, perhaps? Even, if you will pardon the illustration,
+in the deliverance of the Filipinos from Spanish tyranny?"
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I briefly suggested that there was no element of necessity
+in bull-fights.</p>
+
+<p>The waving hand apologized gently for dissent.</p>
+
+<p>"But, yes! The bulls are killed for food. That is what
+foreigners do not seem to understand. It may be ugly, but it
+is universal. To supply men with meat, to feed great cities
+with the flesh of beasts&mdash;it is not pleasant to think of that
+too closely. But how to help it? Do you not have slaughter-houses
+in America? These also we have in Spain. I have
+visited one. It seemed to me much worse than the bull-ring.
+Faugh! I did not like it. The cattle stood trembling, one
+behind another, waiting for the blow. I should not like to
+die like that. I would rather die in the wrath of battle like a
+<i>toro bravo</i>. Oh, it is not cruel. Do not think it. For these
+bulls feel no fear. It is fear that degrades. They may feel
+pain, but I doubt&mdash;I doubt. They feel the wildness of anger,
+and they charge and charge again until the <i>estocada</i>, the death
+stab. That is not so bad a way to die, is it? Any man
+would choose it rather than to stand in terror, bound and
+helpless, hearing the others fall under the axe and seeing his
+turn draw near. Yes, yes! The bull-ring rather than the
+slaughter-house for me!"</p>
+
+<p>This was a novel view of the case to the auditor, who
+ignominiously shifted her ground.</p>
+
+<p>"But what country uses the slaughter-house as a spectacle
+and a sport? It is one thing to take life for food, and another
+to make a holiday of the death struggle."</p>
+
+<p>Again that deprecatory waving of the hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon. I do not know how it is in America.
+Perhaps" [circumflex accent] "all is merciful and noble there.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span>
+But when I was in England I saw something of the chase
+and of the autumn shooting. I saw a poor little fox hunted
+to the death. It was not for food. The dogs tore him. I
+saw wounded birds left in the cover to die. It was too much
+trouble to gather them all up. And the deer? Does not the
+stag suffer more in his flight than the bull in his struggle? I
+believe it. To run and run and run, always growing weaker,
+while the chase comes nearer&mdash;that is an agony. The
+rage of combat has no terror in it. I would not die like the
+deer, hunted down by packs of dogs and men&mdash;and ladies.
+I would die like the bull, hearing the cheers of the multitude."</p>
+
+<p>The big fellow bent over the baby that was dropping to
+sleep against his knee, and slipped the drowsy little body,
+deftly and tenderly, to a sofa. Such sweetness flooded the
+soft black eyes, as they were lifted from the child, that it was
+hard to imagine them sparkling with savage delight over the
+bloody scenes of the <i>corrida de toros</i>. I asked impulsively
+how long it was since he had seen a bull-fight. Brows and
+hands and shoulders were swift to express their appreciation
+of the bearings of the question, and the voice became
+very music in courteous acquiescence.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, it is four years. Of course, I was much younger then.
+Yes, yes! It might not please me now. <i>Quien sabe?</i> And
+yet&mdash;I beg your pardon&mdash;I think I shall go next Sunday in
+Madrid, on my way to Paris. It is so weary in London on
+the Sundays. It was always colder Sunday, and there was
+not even a café. There was nowhere to go. There was
+nothing to do. Why is that good? At the bull-fight one
+feels the joy of life. Is it more religious to sit dull and
+dismal by the fire? I had no use for the churches. Walking
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span>
+is not amusing, unless the sun shines and there is something
+gay to see. I do not like tea, and I do not care for
+reading. Spaniards like to laugh and be merry, and when
+there is nothing to laugh for, life is a heaviness. There is
+no laughter in a London Sunday. I hope Paris will be
+better, though I believe there are no bull-fights there as yet.
+You are not pleased with me, but let me tell you why I love
+the <i>corrida</i>. It is not for the horses, you remember. I have
+sometimes looked away. But why should I pity the bulls,
+when they are mad with battle? They do not pity themselves.
+They are glad in their fury, and I am glad in seeing
+it. But I am more glad in the activity and daring of the
+men. When they run risks, that is what makes me cheer.
+It is not that I would have them hurt. I am proud to
+find men brave. And I am excited and eager to see if
+they escape. Do you not understand? If you would go
+yourself&mdash;just once&mdash;no? Is it always no? Then let
+me tell you what is the best of all. It is to stand near the
+entrance and watch the people pass in, all dressed in their
+holiday clothes, and all with holiday faces. It is good and
+beautiful to see them&mdash;especially the ladies."</p>
+
+<p>The most attractive qualities of our young Spaniard were
+his mirth and courtesy. His merriment was so spontaneous
+and so buoyant that his grace of manner, always tempered to
+time and place and person, became the more apparent. His
+humor dwelt, nevertheless, in the borderlands of irony, and it
+was conceivable that the rubs of later life might enrich its
+pungency at the cost of its kindliness. He was excellent at
+games (not sports), especially the game of courtliness (not
+helpfulness). The letter was not posted, the message slipped
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span>
+his memory, the errand was done amiss, but his apologies
+were poetry. He made a pretty play of the slightest social
+intercourse. We would open our Baedeker at the map which
+we had already, in crossing Spain, unfolded some hundred
+times. He would spring as lightly to his feet as if his mighty
+bulk were made of feathers, and stand, half bowing, arching
+his eyebrows in appeal, spreading out his hands in offer of
+assistance, but not venturing to approach them toward the
+book until it was definitely tendered him. Then he would
+receive it with elaborate delicacy of touch, unfold the creased
+sheet with a score of varied little flourishes, and restore the
+volume with a whole fresh series of gesticulatory airs and
+graces. The next instant he would peep up from under his
+black lashes to detect the alloy of amusement in our gratitude,
+and drop his face flat upon the table in a boyish bubble of
+laughter, saying:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! But you think we Spaniards make much of little
+things. It is true. We are best at what is least useful."</p>
+
+<p>Light-hearted Andalusian though he was, he had full share
+of the energy and enterprise of young manhood. Like the
+dons of long ago, he was equipping himself for the great
+Western adventure. Despite his Spanish wrath against
+America, she had for him a persistent fascination. All his
+ambitions were bent on a business career in New York, the
+El Dorado of his imagination. But it was no longer, at the
+end of the nineteenth century, a case of leaping aboard a
+galleon and waving a Toledo blade in air. The commercial
+career demands, so he fancied, that its knight go forth armed
+cap-a-pie in the commercial tongues. Thus he had spent
+four years of his youth and half of his patrimony in London
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span>
+and Berlin, and now, after this hasty visit home, purposed to
+go to Paris, for a year or two of French. This unsettled life
+was little to his liking, but beyond gleamed the vision of a
+Wall Street fortune.</p>
+
+<p>Yet even now, at the outset of his task, a frequent lethargy
+would steal over his young vigor. It was curious to see,
+when the March wind blew chill or the French verbs waxed
+crabbed, how all his bearing lost its beauty. There was a
+central dignity that did not lapse, but the brightness and
+effectiveness were gone. His big body drooped and looked
+lumpish. His comely face was clouded by an animal sluggishness
+of expression. Foreign grimaces twisted across it, and
+something very like a grunt issued from beneath his cherished
+first mustache. His sarcasm became a little savage. He
+would sit for hours in a brooding fit, and, when an inexorable
+call to action came, obey it with a look of dreary patience
+older than his years. It was as if something inherent in his
+nature, independent of his will, weighed upon him and dragged
+him down. The Spain at which he gibed and from which he
+would have cut himself away was yet a millstone about his
+neck. He was in the heyday of his youth, progressive and
+determined, but the torpid blood of an aged people clogged
+his veins. Spain will never lose her hold on him, despite his
+strongest efforts. His children may be citizens of the great
+Republic, but he must be a foreigner to the end. He must
+wander a stranger in strange cities, puzzling his Spanish wits
+over alien phrases and fashions and ideals, unless, indeed, his
+spirit loses edge, and he drifts into chill apathy of disappointment
+on finding that his golden castles in America are wrought
+of that same old dream-stuff which used to be the monopoly
+of castles in Spain.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But it is best to leave ill-boding to the gypsies. Good luck
+may take a liking to him, if only for the music of his laugh.
+For even if blithe heart and courtly bearing bring no high
+cash value in the modern business market, they may smooth
+the road to simple happiness. Moreover, a Spaniard dearly
+loves a game of chance, and at the worst, our fortune-seeker
+will have thrown his dice. His may seem to the Yankee
+onlooker but a losing play, and yet&mdash;who knows? "He who
+sings frightens away his ills." God's blessing sails in summer
+clouds as lightly as in costly pleasure yachts. Out of a shaft
+of sunshine, a cup of chocolate, and a cigarette, this Andalusian
+immigrant, though stranded in an East Side tenement, may
+get more luxury than can be purchased by a multi-millionaire.
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_149" id="i_149"></a>
+<img src="images/i_149.jpg" width="423" height="596" alt="A Roman Well in Ronda" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">A Roman Well in Ronda</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">IX</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">A BULL-FIGHT</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">
+"I wish no living thing to suffer pain."&mdash;<span class="smcap">Shelley</span>: <i>Prometheus Unbound</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">F</span>rom our first crossing of the Pyrenees we were impressed,
+even beyond our expectation, with the Spanish
+passion for the bull-fight. The more cultivated Spaniards,
+to be sure, are usually unwilling to admit to a foreigner
+their pleasure in the pastime. "It is brutal," said a young
+physician of Madrid, as we discussed it. "It is a very painful
+thing to see, certainly. I go, myself, only two or three times
+a year, when the proceeds are to be devoted to some religious
+object&mdash;a charity or other holy work."</p>
+
+<p>No sight is more common in streets and parks than that of
+a group of boys playing <i>al toro</i>&mdash;one urchin charging about
+with sticks fastened to his shoulders for horns, or with a
+pasteboard bull's head pulled over his ears, and others waving
+scarlet cloths and brandishing improvised swords and lances.
+It is said that in fierce Valencia youths have sometimes carried
+on this sport with knives for horns and swords, the spectators
+relishing the bloodshed too well to interfere. Not easily
+do such lads as these forgive the little king for crying, like
+the sensitive child he is, the first time he was taken to the
+bull-ring.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>corridas de toros</i>, although denounced by some of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span>
+chief voices in Spain, are held almost a national shibboleth.
+Loyal supporters of the queen regent will add to their
+praises the sigh, "If only she loved the bull-fight!" Cavaliers
+and ladies fair reserve their choicest attire to grace these
+barbarities. It is a common saying that a Spaniard will sell
+his shirt to buy a ticket to the bull-ring, but whatever the
+deficiencies of the inner costume, the dress that meets the eye
+is brave in the extreme. It is recently becoming the fashion
+for <i>caballeros</i>, especially in the north of Spain, to discard those
+very fetching cloaks with the vivid linings&mdash;cloaks in which
+Spaniards muffle their faces to the eyebrows as they tread the
+echoing streets of cities founded some thousand or fifteen
+hundred years ago. But for a good old Spanish bull-fight, the
+good old Spanish costumes are out in force, the bright-hued
+<i>capas</i> and broad <i>sombreros</i>, and for the ladies, who also are
+beginning to discard the customary black mantilla for Parisian
+headgear, the exquisite white mantillas of early times and the
+largest and most richly decorated fans.</p>
+
+<p>It is in such places as the grim Roman amphitheatre of
+Italica, whose grass-grown arena has flowed so red with martyrdoms
+of men and beasts, that one despairs most of Spanish
+ability to give up the bull-fight. It is in the air, in the soil,
+in the blood; a national institution, an hereditary rage. "But
+it is the link that holds your country bound to barbarism.
+The rest of the world is on the forward move. I tell you,
+the continuance of the bull-fight means the ruin of Spain,"
+urged a gigantic young German, in our hearing, on his Spanish
+friend. The slight figure of the Madrileño shook with
+anger. "And I tell <i>you</i>" he choked, "that Spain would
+rather perish with the bull-fight than survive without it."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span>
+<i>Isabel la Católica</i>, who earnestly strove to put down these
+savage contests, wrote at last to her Father Confessor that the
+task was too hard for her. The "Catholic Kings" could
+take Granada, unify Spain, establish the Inquisition, expel
+Moors and Jews, and open the Americas; but they could not
+abolish bull-fighting. Nor was Pius V, with his denial of
+Christian burial to all who fell in the arena, and his excommunication
+for princes who permitted <i>corridas de toros</i> in their
+dominions, more successful. The papal bull, like the bulls of
+flesh and blood, was inevitably overthrown.</p>
+
+<p>Spanish legend likes to name the Cid as the first <i>torero</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"Troth it goodly was and pleasant</p>
+<p class="i1">To behold him at their head,</p>
+<p>All in mail on Bavieca,</p>
+<p class="i1">And to hear the words he said."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>In mediæval times the sport was not without chivalric
+features. Knights fought for honor, where professionals now
+fight for <i>pesetas</i>. When the great Charles killed a bull with
+his own lance in honor of the birth of Philip II, the favor
+of the Austrian dynasty was secured. The Bourbons looked
+on the sport more coldly, but as royalty and nobility withdrew,
+the people pressed to the fore. Out of the hardy Spanish
+multitude rose a series of masters,&mdash;Romero the shoemaker,
+who, in general, gave to the art its modern form; Martincho
+the shepherd, who, seated in a chair with his feet bound,
+would await the charging brute; Cándido, who would face the
+bull in full career and escape by leaping to its forehead and
+over its back; Costillares, who invented an ingenious way of
+getting in the death-stroke; the famous Pepe Hillo, who, like
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span>
+Cándido, perished in the ring; a second Romero, said to have
+killed five thousand six hundred bulls; Montés the brick-layer,
+and a bloody band of followers. Andalusia is&mdash;alas!&mdash;the
+classic soil of the bull-fight, as every peasant knows, and
+Seville the top of Andalusia.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"I have a handsome lover,</p>
+<p class="i1">Too bold to fear the Devil,</p>
+<p>And he's the best <i>torero</i></p>
+<p class="i1">In all the town of Seville."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The extravagance of the popular enthusiasm for these
+<i>fiestas de toros</i> is often ridiculed on the stage, where dramas
+dealing with bull-fighting, especially if they bring in the
+heroes of the arena, Pepe Hillo, Romero, Costillares, are
+sure to take. One <i>zarzuela</i> represents a rheumatic old <i>aficionado</i>,
+or devotee of the sport, trying, with ludicrous results,
+to screw his courage to the point of facing the bull. Another
+spends its fun on a Madrid barber, who is likewise a brain-turned
+patron of the ring. Disregarding the shrill protests of
+his wife, he lavishes all his time, love, and money on the
+<i>corridas</i> and encourages his daughter's <i>novio</i>, an honest young
+paper-hanger, to throw over his trade and learn to <i>torear</i>.
+After two years of the provincial arenas, the aspirant, nicknamed
+in the ring The Baby, has nothing but torn clothes
+and bruises to show for his career, and his sweetheart, eager
+to recall him from the hazardous profession, vows a waxen
+bull, large as life, to the Virgin, in case he returns to papering,
+with its humble security and its regularity of wages.
+Mary hears. On that great occasion, The Baby's début at
+Madrid, the barber, who has just been lucky in the lottery,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span>
+rents for him a gorgeous suit of second-hand finery, but in
+the <i>Plaza de Toros</i> not even a rose-and-silver jacket can shield
+a quaking heart. The Baby is a coward born, and from the
+first rush of the first bull comes off with a bloody coxcomb,
+crying out his shame on the shoulder of his Pilar, who shall
+henceforth have him all her own.</p>
+
+<p>The little artist and I went into Spain with the firm determination
+not to patronize the bull-fight. Half our resolution
+we kept,&mdash;her half. Wherever we turned we encountered
+suggestions of the <i>corrida</i>. Spanish newspapers, even the
+most serious, devote columns to <i>Los Toros</i>. Bull-fighting has
+its special publications, as <i>El Toril</i> and <i>El Toreo Cómico</i>, and
+its special dialect. On the morning after a holy day the
+newspapers seem actually smeared with the blood of beasts.
+In the bull-fight season, from Easter to All Saints, <i>corridas</i> are
+held every Sunday in all the cities of southern and central
+Spain, while the smaller towns and villages butcher as many
+bulls as they can possibly afford. The May and June that I
+passed in the capital gave me a peculiar abhorrence of the
+Madrid Sunday,&mdash;that feverish excitement everywhere; the
+rattle of all those extra omnibuses and cars with their red-tasselled
+mules in full gallop for the <i>Plaza de Toros</i>; that sense
+of furious struggle and mortal agony hanging over the city all
+through the slow, hot afternoon; those gaping crowds pressing
+to greet the <i>toreros</i>, a gaudy-suited company, on their triumphal
+return in open carriages; that eager discussion of the
+day's tragedy at every street-corner and from seat to seat
+along the <i>paseos</i>, even at our own dainty dinner table and on
+our own balconies under the rebuking stars. At this strange
+Sabbath service the Infanta Isabel, whose mother's birth was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span>
+celebrated by the slaying of ninety-nine bulls, is a regular
+attendant, occupying the royal box and wearing the national
+colors. A French bull-fighter, visiting the Spanish capital,
+was invited by the Infanta to an audience and presented with
+a diamond pin. Not even the public mourning for Castelar
+could induce Madrid to forego the <i>corrida</i> on that Sunday just
+before his burial. Past the very senate-house where his body
+lay in state rolled the aristocratic landaus, whose ladies displayed
+the gala-wear of white mantillas.</p>
+
+<p>But the Sundays were not enough. Every Catholic feast-day
+called for its sacrifice. Granada could not do fitting
+honor to Corpus Christi with less than three "<i>magnificas
+corridas</i>." The royal saint of Aranjuez, Fernando, must have
+his pious birthday kept by an orgy of blood. At the <i>fiesta</i> of
+Christ's Ascension all Spain was busy staining his earth with
+the life-stream of His creatures. Valladolid was, indeed,
+ashamed to have torn to death only seven horses, but Segovia
+rejoiced in an expert who sat at his work and killed his bulls
+with drawing-room ease. Bordeaux improved the occasion,
+with aid of two celebrated Spanish <i>espadas</i>, by opening a
+French <i>Plaza de Toros</i>, and Valencia had the excitement of
+sending to the infirmary one <i>torero</i> with a broken leg and
+another with a crushed foot. Such accidents are by no
+means uncommon. A <i>matador</i> was mortally wounded in
+the Valencia ring that summer, a <i>banderillero</i> was trampled at
+the Escorial, and those favorite stabbers, Reverte and Bombita,
+were themselves stabbed by avenging horns.</p>
+
+<p>If there is a temporary dearth of saint days, Spanish ingenuity
+will nevertheless find excuse for <i>corridas</i>. Bulls must
+bleed for holy charity,&mdash;for hospitals, foundling asylums, the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span>
+families of workmen out on strike. If the French squadron
+is at Cadiz, hospitality demands a bull-fight. In the interests
+of popular education, an historical <i>corrida</i> was arranged, with
+instructed <i>toreros</i> to display the special styles of bull-killing
+that have prevailed from the Cid to Guerrita. Again, as a
+zoölogical by-play, an elephant was pitted against the bulls.
+This, too, had precedent, for did not Philip IV once keep his
+birthday by turning in among the horned herd a lion, a tiger,
+a camel, and a bear, "all Noah's ark and Æsop's fables"?
+A bull of Xarama vanquished them every one and received
+the gracious reward of being shot dead by Philip himself.</p>
+
+<p>It was on a Wednesday afternoon, at one of the three grand
+<i>corridas</i> of the Seville <i>Feria</i>, that I became an accomplice in
+this Spanish crime. Our friends in Seville, people of cultivation
+and liberal views, had declared from the first that we
+could have no conception of Spanish life and character without
+sharing in the national <i>fiesta</i>. "We ourselves are not
+enthusiasts," they said. "In fact, we disapprove the bull-fight.
+We regard it as demoralizing to the community at large. It is,
+nevertheless, a thing scientific, artistic, heroic, <i>Spanish</i>. Besides,
+a large portion of the proceeds goes to charity. We do
+not attend the <i>corridas</i>, except now and then, especially when
+we have foreign guests who wish to see them. Before going
+they all regard bull-fighting as you do, as an atrocity, a
+barbarity, but invariably they return from the <i>Plaza de
+Toros</i> filled with delight and admiration. They say their
+previous ideas were all wrong, that it is a noble and splendid
+spectacle, that they want to see it again and again, that
+they cannot be too grateful to us for having delivered them
+from prejudice."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I winced at the word. I have a prejudice against being
+prejudiced, and to the bull-fight I went.</p>
+
+<p>My yielding came too late for securing places in a box or
+in any part of the house from which one can make exit during
+the performance. Our gory-looking tickets admitted us to
+the uppermost row of high, whitewashed, stone seats of the
+circus proper, where we were soon inextricably wedged in by
+the human mass that formed around and below us. The
+hour of waiting passed merrily enough. The open amphitheatre,
+jammed to its full capacity of fourteen thousand, lay
+half in brilliant sunlight and half in creeping shadow. Above
+us arched the glowing blue sky of Seville, pricked by the rosy
+Giralda, and from time to time a strong-winged bird flew
+over. The great arena, strewn with yellow sand, was enclosed
+by a dark red barrier of wood, about the height of a
+man. This was encircled, at a little distance, by a more
+secure and higher wall of stone. The concourse was largely
+composed of men, both roughs and gentles, but there was no
+lack of ladies, elegantly dressed, nor of children. Two sweet
+little girls in white-feathered hats were just in front of us,
+dancing up and down to relieve the thrills of expectancy.
+White mantillas, pinned with jewels, bent from the boxes,
+while the daughters of the people dazzled the eye with their
+festival display of Manila shawls, some pure white, some with
+colored figures on a white ground or a black, and some a rainbow
+maze of capricious needle-work. The rich-hued blossoms
+of Andalusia were worn in the hair and on the breast.
+The sunny side of the circus was brightly dotted by parasols,
+orange, green, vermilion, and fans in all the cardinal colors
+twinkled like a shivered kaleidoscope. The men's black eyes
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span>
+glittered under those broad <i>sombreros</i>, white or drab, while
+they puffed their cigarettes with unwonted energy, scattering
+the ashes in soft gray showers over their neighbors on the
+seats below. The tumult of voices had a keener note of
+excitement than I had yet heard in Spain, and was so loud
+and insistent as often to drown the clashing music of the
+band. The cries of various venders swelled the mighty
+volume of noise. Water-sellers in vivid blouses and
+sashes, a red handkerchief twisted around the neck, on the
+left shoulder a cushion of folded carpeting for the shapely,
+yellow-brown jar, and a smart tin tray, holding two glasses,
+corded to the belt, went pushing through the throng. Criers
+of oranges, newspapers, crabs, and cockles, almond cakes,
+fans, and photographs of the <i>toreros</i>, strove with all the might
+of their lungs against the universal uproar.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"Crece el entusiasmo;</p>
+<p>Crece la alegría;</p>
+<p>Todo es algazara;</p>
+<p>Todo es confusión."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>A tempest of applause marked the entrance in a box above
+of a popular <i>prima donna</i>, who draped a resplendent carmine
+scarf over the railing before her seat. Immediately the complete
+circuit of the rail was ablaze with color, cloaks and
+shawls instantly converting themselves into tapestry.</p>
+
+<p>At last two attendants entered the arena, walked up to a
+hydrant in the centre, fastened on a hose, and watered the
+great circle. They pulled out the hydrant and raked sand
+over the hole. Simple as these actions were, a dreadful quiet
+fell on all the circus.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A trumpet blared. Mounted <i>alguaciles</i>, or police, tricked
+out in ancient Spanish costume, on blue saddles, and with tall
+blue plumes in their hats, rode in and cleared the arena of all
+stragglers. A door opened, and forth issued the full circus
+troupe, making a fine show of filigree, and urging their
+wretched old nags to a last moment of equine pride and
+spirit. Amid roars of welcome, they flaunted across the
+sanded enclosure and saluted the presiding officer. He
+dropped the key of the <i>toril</i>, that dark series of cells into
+which the bulls had been driven some hours before. An
+<i>alguacil</i> caught the key and handed it to the <i>torilero</i>, who ran
+with it toward a second door, ominously surmounted by a
+great bull's head. Then there was a twinkling of the pink
+stockings and black sandals. Most of the gay company
+leaped the barrier, and even the <i>chulos</i> who remained in the
+ring placed themselves within convenient distance of the rail.
+Some of the <i>picadores</i> galloped out, but a few awaited the
+coming charge, their long pikes in rest. The door on which
+all eyes were bent flew open, and a bellowing red bull rushed
+in. The fierce, bloodthirsty, horrible yell that greeted him
+checked his impetuous onset. For a few seconds the creature
+stood stock-still, glaring at the scene. Heaven knows
+what he thought of us. He had had five perfect years of life
+on the banks of the Guadalquivír,&mdash;one baby year by his
+mother's side, one year of sportive roving with his mates,
+and then had come the trial of his valor. He had found all
+the herdsmen gathered at the ranch one morning, and, nevertheless,
+flattered himself that he had evaded those hateful
+pikes, <i>garrochas</i>, that were always goading him back when he
+would sally out to explore the great green world. At all
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span>
+events, here he was scampering alone across the plain. But
+promptly two horsemen were at his heels, and one of these,
+planting a blunt <i>garrocha</i> on his flank, rolled the youngster
+over. Up again, panting with surprise and indignation, he felt
+a homesick impulse to get back to the herd, but the second
+horseman was full in his path. So much the worse for the
+horseman! The mettlesome young bull lowered his horns
+and charged the obstacle, only to be thrown back with a
+smarting shoulder. If he had yielded then, his would have
+been the quiet yoke and the long, dull life of labor, but he
+justified his breed; he charged anew, and so proved himself
+worthy of the arena. Three more years of the deep, green
+river-reeds and the sweet Andalusian sunshine, three years of
+free, far range and glad companionship, and then the end.
+His days had been exempt from burden only to save his wild
+young strength for the final tragedy. One summer morning
+those traitors known as decoy-oxen, with bells about the
+neck, came trotting into the herd. The noble bulls, now at
+their best hour of life, the glory of their kind, welcomed these
+cunning guests with frank delight and interest, and were easily
+induced to follow them and their tinkling bells across the
+rich pastures, along rough country roads, even to the city
+itself and the fatal <i>Plaza de Toros</i>. The herdsmen with their
+ready pikes galloped behind the drove, and everywhere along
+the way peasants and townsfolk would fall in for a mile or
+two to help in urging the excited animals onward to their
+cruel doom.</p>
+
+<p>In that strange, maddening sea of faces, that hubbub
+of hostile voices, the bull, as soon as his blinking eyes
+had effected the change from the darkness of the <i>toril</i> to the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span>
+glaring light and gaudy colors of the coliseum, caught sight of
+a horseman with the familiar pike. Here was something
+that he recognized and hated. Lowering his head, the fiery
+brute dashed with a bellow at that tinselled figure. Ah, the
+pike had never been so sharp before! It went deep into his
+shoulder, but could not hold him back. He plunged his
+horns, those mighty spears, into the body of the helpless,
+blindfolded horse, which the <i>picador</i>, whose jacket was well
+padded and whose legs were cased in iron, deliberately
+offered to his wrath. The poor horse shrieked, plunged,
+reeled, and fell, the <i>chulos</i> deftly dragging away the armored
+rider, while the bull ripped and trampled that quivering carcass,
+for whose torment no man cared, until it was a crimson,
+formless heap.</p>
+
+<p>Such sickness swept over me that I did not know what
+followed. When I looked again, two bloody masses that
+had once been horses disfigured the arena, and the bull, stuck
+all over like a hedge-hog with derisive, many-colored darts,
+had gone down under Guerrita's steel.</p>
+
+<p>My friends, observing with concern that I was not enjoying
+myself as much as they had promised, tried to divert my
+attention to the technical features of their ghastly game.
+It was really, they explained, a drama in three acts. It is
+the part of the mounted <i>picador</i> to draw off the first rage and
+vigor of the bull, weakening him, but not slaying him, by
+successive wounds. Then the jaunty <i>banderilleros</i>, the streamers
+of whose darts must correspond in color with their
+costumes, supply a picturesque and amusing element, a comic
+interlude. Finally an <i>espada</i>, or <i>matador</i>, advances alone to
+despatch the tortured creature. The death-blow can be dealt
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span>
+only in one of several fashions, established by rule and precedent,
+and the <i>espada</i> who is startled into an unprofessional
+thrust reaps a bitter harvest of scoffs and hisses.</p>
+
+<p>A team of gayly-caparisoned mules with jingling bells had
+meanwhile trundled away the mangled bodies of the slaughtered
+animals, fresh sand had been thrown over the places
+slippery with blood, and the band pealed the entrance of the
+second bull. This was a demon, black as a coal, with a
+marvellous pride and spirit that availed him nothing. Horse
+after horse crashed down before his furious rushes, while the
+circus, drunk with glee, shouted for more victims and more
+and more. It was a massacre. At last our hideous greed
+was glutted, and the <i>banderilleros</i> took their turn in baiting
+the now enfeebled but undaunted bull. Wildly he shook
+himself, the fore half of his body already a flood of crimson,
+to throw off the ignominy of those stinging darts. The
+<i>chulos</i> fretted and fooled him with their waving cloaks of red
+and yellow, till at last the creature grew hushed and sullen.
+A strain of music announced that the <i>matador</i> Fuentes was
+asking beneath the president's box permission to kill the bull.
+For my part, I gave the bull permission to kill the man.
+Fuentes, all pranked out in gray and gold, holding his keen
+blade behind him and flourishing a scarlet square of cloth,
+swinging from a rod, the <i>muleta</i>, advanced upon the brute.
+That bleeding body shook with a new access of rage, and the
+other <i>espadas</i> drew near and stood at watch. But even before
+a blow was struck the splendid, murdered creature sank to his
+knees, staggered up once more, sank again with crimson foam
+upon his mouth, and the music clashed jubilantly while Fuentes
+drove the weapon home. And again the team of mules,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span>
+with foolish tossing of their bright-ribboned heads, jerked
+and jolted their dead kindred off the scene.</p>
+
+<p>The third bull galloped in with a roar that was heard far
+beyond the <i>Plaza</i> and gored his first two horses so promptly
+and so frightfully that, while the hapless beasts still struggled
+in their agony, the amphitheatre howled with delirious joy.
+Several <i>capas</i> were caught away on those swift, effective horns,
+and one <i>picador</i> was hurt. But the rain of darts teased and
+bewildered the bull to the point of stupidity, although he was
+dangerous yet.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil;</p>
+<p>And the dun hide glows, as if on fire, as he paws to the turmoil.</p>
+<p>His eyes are jet, and they are set in crystal rings of snow;</p>
+<p>But now they stare with one red glare of brass upon the foe."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was the turn of Bombita, a dandy in dark-green suit
+with silver trimmings; but his comrades, pale and intent, stood
+not far off and from time to time, by irritating passes, drew
+the bull's wrath upon themselves, wearying him ever more
+and more, until at last Bombita had his chance to plant a
+telling blow.</p>
+
+<p>Would it never end? Again the fatal door swung open,
+and the fourth bull bounded in to play his tragic rôle. He
+was of choicest pedigree, but the utter strangeness of the
+scene turned his taurine wits. He made distracted and aimless
+rushes hither and thither, unheeding the provocations of
+the horsemen, until he came upon the spot drenched with his
+predecessor's life-blood. He pawed away the hasty covering
+of sand, sniffed at that ominous stain, and then, throwing up
+his head with a strange bellow, bolted back to the door by
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span>
+which he had entered, and turned tail to the arena. The
+fourteen thousand, crazy with rage, sprang to their feet, shook
+their fists, called him <i>cow</i>. The <i>chulos</i> brandished their cloaks
+about his horns; men leaned over from the barrier and
+prodded him with staffs. Finally, in desperation, he turned
+on the nearest horse, rent it and bore it down. The <i>picador</i>,
+once set up by the <i>chulos</i> upon his stiff, iron-cased legs, his
+yellow finery streaked with red from his lacerated horse,
+tugged savagely at the bridle to force that dying creature to
+a second stand. One attendant wrenched it by the tail,
+another beat it viciously over the face; the all-enduring beast,
+his entrails swinging from a crimson gash, struggled to his
+feet. The <i>picador</i> mounted, drove in the spurs, and the horse,
+rocking and pitching, accomplished a few blind paces toward
+those dripping horns that horribly awaited him. But to the
+amazement and scandal of the <i>aficionados</i>, the circus raised a
+cry of protest, and the discomfited rider sprang down in
+the very moment when his horse fell to rise no more. A
+<i>chulo</i>, at his leisurely convenience, quieted those kicking hoofs
+by a stab,&mdash;the one drop of mercy in that ocean of human
+outrage.</p>
+
+<p>Straw-colored darts, wine-colored darts, sky-colored darts,
+were pricking the bull to frenzy. I wished he had any half-dozen
+of his enemies in a clear pasture. Those glittering
+dragon-flies were always just out of reach, but he stumbled
+on the sodden shape of the unhappy horse and tossed it again
+and again, making the poor carcass fling up its head and arch
+its neck in ghastly mockery of life. Cowardice avails a bull
+as little as courage. This sorry fighter had been deeply
+pierced by the <i>garrochas</i>, and now, as he galloped clumsily
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span>
+about the arena, in unavailing efforts to escape from his
+tormentors, his violent, foolish plunges made the dark blood
+flow the faster. It was Guerrita, Guerrita the adored, Guerrita
+in gold-laced jacket and violet trousers, who struck the
+ultimate blow, and so cleverly that <i>sombreros</i> and cigarettes,
+oranges and pocket-flasks, came raining, amid furies of applause,
+into the arena. This was such a proud moment as he had
+dreamed of long ago in the Cordova slaughter-house, when,
+the little son of the slaughter-house porter, he had stolen from
+his bed at midnight to play <i>al toro</i> with the calves, and then and
+there had solemnly dedicated himself to the glorious profession.
+Now the master of his art and the idol of all Spain, easily making
+his seventy-five thousand dollars a year, earning, in fact, three
+thousand on that single afternoon, Guerrita little foresaw that
+with the coming autumn he should go on pilgrimage to <i>La
+Virgen del Pilar</i>, and before her beloved shrine at Saragossa
+cut off his bull-fighter's pigtail and renounce the ring.</p>
+
+<p>The fifth bull was black as ebony. He dashed fearlessly
+into the arena, charged and wheeled and tossed his horns in
+the splendor of his strength, sending every red-vested <i>chulo</i>
+scrambling over the wall. Then he backed to the middle of
+the sanded circle, snorting and pawing the earth. Another
+instant, and the nearest horse and rider went crashing against
+the barrier. The <i>picador</i>, with a bruised face, forced up the
+gasping horse, mounted and rode it, the beast treading out its
+entrails as it went, to meet a second charge. But the swaying
+horse fell dead before it reached those lowered horns
+again. The next <i>picador</i>, too, went down heavily under his
+jade and received an awkward sprain. He mounted once
+more, to show that he could, and the circus cheered him, but
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span>
+his horse, torn to death, could not bear his weight. He gave
+it an angry push with the foot as he left it writhing in its life-blood.
+This whirlwind of a bull, who shook off all but one
+of the <i>banderillas</i>, mortified even the <i>matadores</i>. Disregarding
+the red rag, he rushed at Fuentes himself. The nimble <i>torero</i>
+leapt aside, but the bull's horn struck his sword and sent it
+spinning half across the arena. His comrades immediately
+ran, with waving <i>capas</i> and bright steel, to his aid, but that
+too intelligent bull, fighting for his life, kept his foes at bay
+until the circus hissed with impatience. The <i>toreros</i>, visibly
+nettled, gathered closer and closer, but had to play that death-game
+cautiously. This bull was dangerous. The coliseum
+found him tedious. He took too long in dying. Stabbed
+again and again and again, he yet agonized to his feet and
+shook those crimsoned horns at his tormentors, who still hung
+back. It really was dull. The <i>matadores</i> buzzed about him,
+worrying his dying sight, but he stood sullen in their midst,
+refusing the charges to which they tempted him, guarding his
+last drops of strength, and, cardinal offence in a <i>toro</i>, holding
+his head too high for the professional stroke. His vital force
+was ebbing. Red foam dripped from his mouth. That
+weary hoof no longer pawed the earth. The people shouted
+insults even to their pet Guerrita, but Guerrita, like the rest,
+stood baffled. At last that formidable figure, no longer black,
+but a red glaze of blood and sweat and foam, fell in a sudden
+convulsion. Then his valiant murderers sprang upon him,
+the stabs came thick and fast, and the jingling mule-team
+pranced in to form his funeral cortège.</p>
+
+<p>One more,&mdash;the sixth. I was long past indignation, past
+any acuteness of pain, simply sickened through body and soul
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span>
+and unutterably wearied with this hideous monotony of
+slaughter. The last bull, a white star shining on his black
+forehead, tore into the arena, raced all about the circle, and
+struck with amazing rapidity wherever he saw a foe. Three
+horses were down, were up again, and were forced, all with
+trailing intestines, to a second charge. The bull flashed like
+a thunderbolt from one to another, rending and digging with
+his savage horns, until three mangled bodies writhed on the
+reddened sand, and stabbers watched their chances to run
+forward and quiet with the knife the horrible beating of those
+hoofs in air. The circus yelled delight. It had all been the
+work of a moment,&mdash;a brave bull, a great sensation! For
+the performers it was rather too much of a good thing.
+Those disembowelled carcasses cluttered up the arena. The
+scattered entrails were slippery under foot. The dart-throwers
+hastened to the next act of the tragedy. Theirs was a
+subtlety too much for the fury-fuddled wits of that mighty,
+blundering brute. He galloped to and fro, spending his
+strength in useless charges and, a score of times, ignoring the
+men to hook wildly at their brandished strips of colored cloth.
+The darts had been planted and he was losing blood. The
+<i>matador</i> went to his work, but the uncivil bull did not make
+it easy for him. Bombita could not get in a handsome blow.
+The house began to hoot and taunt. A stentorian voice
+called to him to "kill that bull to-morrow." Exasperated by
+the laughter that greeted this sally, Bombita drove his Toledo
+blade to its mark. While the final scene of general stabbing
+was going on, boys, men, even women vaulted into the arena,
+played over again with one another the more memorable incidents,
+ran to inspect those shapeless carcasses of what God
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span>
+created horses, and escorted the funeral train of the bull, one
+small boy riding in gleeful triumph on top of the great black
+body, harmless and still at last. As we passed out by a hallway
+where the dead animals had been dragged, we had to
+pick our way through pools of blood and clots of entrails.
+Thus by the road of the shambles we came forth from hell.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_170" id="i_170"></a>
+<img src="images/i_170.jpg" width="396" height="624" alt="The Giralda" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Giralda</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I do not understand at all," sincerely protested my Spanish
+host, disconcerted by the continued nausea and horror of
+red dreams which, justly enough, pursued me for weeks after.
+"It was a very favorable <i>corrida</i> for a beginner,&mdash;no serious
+accident, no use of the fire-darts, no houghing of the
+bull with the demi-lune, nothing objectionable. And, after
+all, animals are only animals; they are not Christians."</p>
+
+<p>"Who were the Christians in that circus?" I asked.
+"How could devils have been worse than we?"</p>
+
+<p>He half glanced toward the morning paper but was too
+kindly to speak his thought. It was not necessary. I had
+read the paper, which gave half a column to a detailed account
+of a recent lynching, with torture, in the United States.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">X</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">GYPSIES</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot p2">
+<p>"'Life is sweet, brother.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Do you think so?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Think so!&mdash;There's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon,
+and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise a wind on the heath. Life is
+very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I would wish to die.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You talk like a gorgio&mdash;which is the same as talking like a fool&mdash;were you a
+Rommany Chal you would talk wiser. Wish to die, indeed!&mdash;A Rommany Chal
+would wish to live forever!'</p>
+
+<p>"'In sickness, Jasper?'</p>
+
+<p>"'There's the sun and stars, brother.'</p>
+
+<p>"'In blindness, Jasper?'</p>
+
+<p>"'There's the wind on the heath, brother; if I could only feel that, I would gladly
+live forever. <i>Dosta</i>, we'll now go to the tents and put on the gloves; and I'll try
+to make you feel what a sweet thing it is to be alive, brother!'"</p>
+
+<p>&mdash;<span class="smcap">George Borrow</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">N</span>o foreigner has known the Zingali better than
+George Borrow, the linguistic Englishman, who
+could speak Rommany so well that gypsies all
+over Europe took him for a brother. In the employ of the
+English Bible Society, he spent some five adventurous years
+in Spain, wandering through the wilds and sharing the life of
+shepherds, muleteers, even the fierce <i>gitanos</i>. As he found
+the Spanish gypsies half a century ago, so, in essentials, are
+they still&mdash;the men jockeys, tinkers, and blacksmiths, the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span>
+women fortune tellers and dancers, the children the most
+shameless little beggars of all the Peninsula. Yet there has
+been an improvement.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>gitanos</i> are not such ruffians as of old, nor even such
+arrant thieves, although it would still be unwise to trust them
+within call of temptation.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"There runs a swine down yonder hill,</p>
+<p class="i1">As fast as e'er he can,</p>
+<p>And as he runs he crieth still,</p>
+<p class="i1">'Come, steal me, Gypsyman.'"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Still more compromising is the Christmas carol:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Into the porch of Bethlehem</p>
+<p class="i1">Have crept the gypsies wild,</p>
+<p>And they have stolen the swaddling clothes</p>
+<p class="i1">Of the new-born Holy Child.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+
+<p>"Oh, those swarthy gypsies!</p>
+<p class="i1">What won't the rascals dare?</p>
+<p>They have not left the Christ Child</p>
+<p class="i1">A single shred to wear."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>There are wealthy gypsies, whose wives and daughters
+go arrayed with the utmost elegance of fashion, in several
+Spanish cities. Seville has her gypsy lawyer, but her gypsy
+bull-fighter, who died two years ago, was held to reflect even
+greater credit on the parent stock.</p>
+
+<p>By law the gypsies are now established as Spaniards,
+with full claim to Spanish rights and privileges&mdash;<i>Nuevos
+Castellanos</i>, as they have been called since the day when
+Spain bethought her of these Ishmaels as "food for powder"
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span>
+and subjected them to the regular military draft. Even in
+Granada, where the gypsy community still lives in semi-barbarism,
+there are hopeful signs. The <i>gitanos</i> drive a sharp
+trade in donkeys, but their forge fires, gleaming far up the
+Albaicín in the evening, testify to their industry. The
+recent opening by the municipality of schools for the gypsy
+children has already wrought a marked change for the better.
+Some half-dozen dirty little palms, outstretched for <i>cinco
+centimos</i>, pester the stranger to-day where scores used to torment
+him, and the mothers take pride in the literary accomplishments
+of their tawny broods. On one occasion, when,
+having, as the Spanish say, "clean pockets," I firmly declined
+to see a small gypsy girl dance or hear her sing, the mother
+assured me, as a last greedy expedient, that "the child could
+pray."</p>
+
+<p>On the Alhambra hill the gypsies, who scent tourists from
+afar and troop thither, on the track of newly arrived parties,
+like wolves to their banquet, are picturesque figures enough,
+the men in peaked hats, spangled jackets, and sashes of red
+silk, the women with bright handkerchiefs bound over their
+raven hair, large silver earrings, gay bodices, and short,
+flounced petticoats.</p>
+
+<p>There is one old <i>gitano</i>, in resplendent attire, who haunts
+the Alhambra doors and introduces himself to visitors, with
+bows queerly compounded of condescension and supplication,
+as the King of the Gypsies, modestly offering his photograph
+for a <i>peseta</i>. If you turn to your attendant Spaniard and ask,
+<i>sotto voce</i>, "But is this truly the Gypsy King?" you will
+receive a prompt affirmative, while the quick-witted old
+masquerader strikes a royal attitude, rolls his eyes prodigiously,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span>
+and twirls his three-cornered hat at arm's length above his
+head, until its tinsel ornaments sparkle like crown jewels.
+But no sooner is his Majesty well out of hearing than your
+guide hastens to eat his own words. "No, no, no! He is
+not the King of the Gypsies, but he is a gypsy, yes, and it is
+better not to have his ill will."</p>
+
+<p>Whether this hardened pretender could cast the evil eye or
+not, we never knew, for having bought two of his pictures at
+the first onset, we suffered ever afterward the sunshine of his
+favor. In fact we often made a wide detour rather than pass
+him on the hill, for he would spring to his feet at our remotest
+approach and stand bowing like an image of perpetual motion,
+his hat brandished high in air, until our utmost in the way
+of answering nods and smiles seemed by contrast sheer
+democratic incivility.</p>
+
+<p>The swarthy faces and glittering eyes of the gypsies meet
+one everywhere in the Granada streets, but to see them in
+their own precinct it is necessary to take off your watch,
+empty your pockets of all but small silver and coppers, and
+go to the Albaicín. This hill, parted from the Alhambra by
+the deep ravine of the gold-bearing Darro, was in Moorish
+times the chosen residence of the aristocracy. Still Arabian
+arches span the gorge, and many of the toppling old houses
+that lean over the swift, mountain-born current, shabby as
+they look to the passer-by, are beautiful within with arabesque
+and fretwork, carven niches, delicate columns and open
+patios, where fountains still gush and orange blossoms still
+shed fragrance. Such degenerate palaces are often occupied
+by the better class of gypsies, those who traffic in horses, as
+well as in donkeys, while their women, grouped in the courts
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span>
+and doorways, embroider with rainbow wools, in all fantastic
+patterns, the stout mantles of the Andalusian mountaineers.</p>
+
+<p>As we climbed the Albaicín, fronting as it does the hill of
+the Alhambra, the exceeding beauty of the view at first
+claimed all our power of seeing. Below was the gray sweep
+of the city and beyond the fruitful plain of Granada, its vivid
+green shading into a far-off dimness like the sea. Just opposite
+us rose the fortress of the Alhambra, a proud though
+broken girdle of walls and towers, while in the background
+soared the dazzling snow peaks of the Sierra Nevada, glistening
+with unbearable splendor under the intense blue of the
+Andalusian sky.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of our rhapsodies I became aware of a shrill
+voice at my feet, a persistent tug at my skirts, and reluctantly
+dropped my eyes on a comely little gypsy lass lying along a
+sunny ledge and imperiously demanding <i>cinco centimos</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Now what would you do with <i>cinco centimos</i> if you had
+them?"</p>
+
+<p>With the universal beggar gesture she pointed to her
+mouth. "Buy a rusk. I am starving. I am already dead
+of hunger."</p>
+
+<p>Crossing her hands upon her breast, she closed her eyes in
+token of her mortal extremity, but instantly flashed them open
+again to note the effect.</p>
+
+<p>"Your cheeks are not the cheeks of famine."</p>
+
+<p>At a breath the young sorceress sucked them in and succeeded,
+plump little person though she was, in looking so
+haggard and so woe-begone that our political economy broke
+down in laughter, and we gave her the coveted cent in return
+for her transformation act.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Off she darted, with her wild locks flying in the wind, and
+was back in a twinkling, a circlet of bread suspended from
+her arm. She tripped along beside us for the rest of the
+afternoon, using the rusk sometimes as a hoop, sometimes as
+a crown, sometimes as a peephole. She tossed it, sang
+through it, dandled it, stroked it, and occasionally, while the
+bread approximated more and more in hue to her own gypsy
+complexion, took an artistic nibble, dotting the surface with a
+symmetrical curve of bites. It was not mere food to her; it
+was luxury, it was mirth&mdash;like a Lord Mayor's feast or a
+Delmonico breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>Following the <i>Camino del Sacro Monte</i>, marked by many
+crosses, our attention was more and more withdrawn from
+the majestic views spread out before us to the gypsies, whose
+cave dwellings lined the way. Burrowing into the earth, from
+the midst of thickets of prickly pear, are these strange abodes,
+whose chimneys rise abruptly out of the green surface of the
+hillside. Dens as they are, the best of them possess some
+decencies. Flaps of cloth serve them for doors, their peering
+fronts are whitewashed, they are furnished with a stool or
+two, a box of tools or clothing, a few water-jars, a guitar, and,
+in the farther end of the lair, a family bedstead, or more often
+a heap of dirty sheepskins. Cooking tins, bottles, saddles,
+and coils of rope hang on the rough walls; there may be a
+shelf of amulets and toys for sale, and the indispensable pot
+of <i>puchero</i> simmers over a handful of fire.</p>
+
+<p>Out from these savage homes swarmed a whining, coaxing,
+importunate horde of sly-eyed women and an impish rabble
+of children. Young and old clutched at us with unclean
+hands, clung to us with sinewy brown arms, begged, flattered,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span>
+demanded, and dragged us bodily into their hill. We felt as
+if we had gone back to German fairy tales and had fallen into
+the evil grip of the gnomes. Hardly could escort, carriage,
+and a reckless rain of coppers break the spell. We were
+forced to taste their repulsive messes, to cross witch palms
+with silver, to buy even the roadside weeds the urchins
+gathered before our eyes. We were birds for the plucking,
+sheep for the shearing. Only when we had turned our
+pockets inside out to show that we had not a "little dog"
+left, were we suffered to go free, followed, doubtless, by the
+curses of Egypt, because we had yielded such poor picking.</p>
+
+<p>In Seville, too, the gypsies have their own quarter, but in proportion
+as Seville is a gentler city than Granada, so are the looks
+and manners of her gypsy population more attractive. Crossing
+the yellow Guadalquivír by the bridge of Isabel Segunda,
+we come immediately on the picturesque, dark-visaged figures,
+with their uneffaced suggestion of wildness, of freedom, of
+traditions apart from the common humdrum of humanity.
+The boy, clad in one fluttering garment, who is perilously
+balancing his slender brown body on the iron rail; the bright-kerchiefed
+young mother, thrusting her tiny black bantling into
+our faces; the silent, swarthy men who lean along the bridge
+side, lithe even in their lounging;&mdash;all have a latent fierceness
+in their look. Their eyes are keen as knives&mdash;strange eyes,
+whose glitter masks the depth. But as we go on into the
+potter's suburb of Triana, into the thick of the gypsy life, we
+are not more seriously molested than by the continual begging,
+nor is this the rough, imperious begging of Granada; a
+flavor of Sevillian grace and fun has passed upon it. Offer
+this bush-headed lad, pleading starvation, the orange he has
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span>
+just tossed away, and he will double up over the joke and
+take to his little bare heels. Give to the fawning sibyl who
+insists on telling your fortune a red rose for her hair, and the
+chances are that she will rest content. But the time to see
+the gypsies in their glory is during the three days and nights
+of the <i>Feria</i>.</p>
+
+<p>On the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth of April
+Seville annually keeps, on the <i>Prado de San Sebastian</i>, where
+the Inquisition used to light its fires, the blithest of spring
+festivals. The <i>Feria</i> is a fair, but much more than a fair.
+There are droves upon droves of horses, donkeys, cattle,
+goats, sheep, and pigs. There are rows upon rows of booths
+with toys, booths with nuts and candies, booths with the gay-handled
+Albacete knives and daggers. There are baskets
+upon baskets of rainbow fans, mimic fighting cocks, oranges,
+and other cheap Sevillian specialties. Cooling drinks are on
+sale at every turn, but there is no drunkenness. There are
+thousands and tens of thousands of people in motion, but there
+is no bustling, no elbowing, no rudeness of pressure. Dainty
+little children wander alone in that tremendous throng. The
+order and tranquillity that prevail by day and night in this
+multitude of merrymakers render it possible for the <i>Feria</i> to
+be what it is. For during these enchanted April hours even
+the noblest families of Seville come forth from the proud
+seclusion of their patios and live in <i>casetas</i>, little rustic houses
+that are scarcely more than open tents, exposed to the gaze
+of every passer-by.</p>
+
+<p>A lofty bridge, crossed by two broad flights of stairs and
+tapering to a tower, stands at the intersection of the three
+chief <i>Feria</i> avenues. The bridge is brilliantly illuminated by
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span>
+night, and close-set globes of gas, looped on running tubes
+along both sides of these three festal streets, pour floods of
+light into the <i>casetas</i>. Chinese lanterns in red and yellow
+abound, and lines of banner-staffs flaunt the Spanish colors.
+The <i>casetas</i> are usually constructed of white canvas on a
+framework of light-brown fretwood, though the materials are
+sometimes more durable.</p>
+
+<p>Clubhouses are large and elaborate, and individual taste
+varies the aspect of the private tents. The more important
+families of Seville own their <i>casetas</i>, but in general these airy
+abodes are rented from year to year, the price for the three
+days of the <i>Feria</i> ranging from twenty-five dollars on the
+central avenue to five dollars for the more remote houselets
+on the two streets that branch off at right angles. The
+numerous byways are occupied by cafés, booths, penny
+shows, and the like, the gypsies having one side of a lane to
+themselves. The other side is given over to circus-rings,
+merry-go-rounds, cradle-swings marked "For Havana," "For
+Manila," "For Madrid," dancing dwarfs, braying bands,
+caged bulls, and tents provided with peepholes through which
+one may see "The Glorious Victory of the Spanish Troops
+at Santiago," and other surprising panoramas of the recent
+war. These are in high favor with soldiers and small boys,
+whose black heads bump together at every aperture.</p>
+
+<p>Such attractions are especially potent over the country
+folk, who come jogging into Seville during fair time, mounted
+two or three together on jaded horses, sorry mules, and even on
+indignant little donkeys. Their peasant costumes add richly
+to the charm of the spectacle, and their simplicity makes
+them an easy spoil for the canny folk of Egypt. You see
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span>
+them especially in the cool of the early morning, when trade
+in cattle is at its liveliest. Ten to one they have been fleeced
+already by the <i>gitanos</i>, who, out in the great meadow where
+the live-stock is exposed for sale, have their own corner for
+"dead donkeys," as the Sevillians term the decrepit old beasts
+that have been magically spruced up for the occasion. Cervantes
+has his jest at "a gypsy's ass, with quicksilver in its
+ears."</p>
+
+<p>Then comes the turn of the <i>gitanas</i>, looking their prettiest,
+with roses in hair, and over the shoulders those captivating
+black silk shawls embroidered in many-colored patterns of
+birds and flowers. The younger enchantresses keep watch,
+each in front of her family tent, before whose parted curtains
+the more ill-favored women of the household are busy frying
+the crisp brown <i>buñuelos</i>, a species of doughnut dear to the
+Spanish tooth.</p>
+
+<p>As you loiter down the lane, be you wide-eyed shepherd
+from the provinces, or elegant grandee from Madrid, or
+haughty foreigner from London or Vienna, the sturdy sirens
+rush upon you, seize you by arm or neck, and by main force
+tug you into their tented prisons, from which you must gnaw
+your way out through a heap of hot <i>buñuelos</i>. Or you may
+compromise on a cup of Spanish chocolate, flavored with
+cinnamon and thick as flannel, or perhaps win your liberty
+by gulping down a cupful of warm goat's milk. The prices
+shock the portliest purses, but at your first faint sign of protest
+a gathering mob of gypsies presses close with jeers and hisses,
+and even the frying-pan sputters contempt.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Feria</i> presents its most quiet aspect during the afternoon.
+Some twenty or thirty thousand of the promenaders
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span>
+have been drawn off by the superior attraction of the bull-fight,
+and others have retired for their siestas. Yet there are
+thousands left. This is a grand time for the children, who
+disport themselves in the avenues with whistles, swords,
+balls, kites, and other trophies from the toy booths. These
+little people are exquisitely dressed, often in the old Andalusian
+costumes, and tiny lad and tiny lass, of aristocratic look
+and bearing, may be seen tripping together through one of the
+graceful national dances in the midst of a sidewalk throng.
+The toddlers, too, are out, under charge of happy nursemaids.</p>
+
+<p>Even the babies have been brought to the fair, and lie,
+contentedly sucking their rosy thumbs, in the doorways of
+the <i>casetas</i>. The lords of these doll-houses are enjoying
+peaceful smokes together in the background of the open parlors,
+which are furnished with as many chairs as possible, a
+piano, and a central stand of flowers; while semicircles of
+silent ladies, languidly waving the most exquisite of fans, sit
+nearer the front, watching the ceaseless stream of pedestrians,
+and beyond these the double procession of carriages, which
+keep close rank as they advance on one side of the avenue and
+return on the other. It is bad form not to go to the <i>Feria</i>
+once at least in a carriage. Large families of limited means
+hire spacious vehicles resembling omnibuses, and, squeezed
+together in two opposite rows, drive up and down the three
+chief streets for hours.</p>
+
+<p>There are crested landaus, with handsome horses, gay
+donkey-carts, decked out with wreaths and tassels, shabby
+cabs, sporting red and yellow ribbons on their whips, tooting
+coaches&mdash;every sort and kind of contrivance for relieving
+humanity of its own weight. There are mounted cavaliers in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span>
+plenty, and occasionally, under due masculine escort, a fair-haired
+English girl rides by, or a group of Spanish señoras,
+who have come into Seville on horseback from their country
+homes. But all this movement is slow and dreamy, the play
+of the children being as gentle as the waving of the fans.</p>
+
+<p>Even Gypsy Lane shares in the tranquillity of the drowsy
+afternoon. We were captured there almost without violence,
+and, while we trifled with the slightest refreshment we could
+find, a juvenile entertainment beguiled us of our coppers
+with pleasurable ease. A coquettish midget of four summers
+innocently danced for us the dances that are not innocent,
+and a wee goblin of seven, who could not be induced to
+perform without a cap, that he might pull it down over his
+bashful eyes, stamped and kicked, made stealthy approaches
+and fierce starts of attack through the savage hunting jigs inherited
+from the ancient life of the wilderness. The women
+swung their arms and shrilled wild tunes to urge the children
+on, but a second youngster who attempted one of these barbaric
+dances for us broke down in mid career, and, amid a
+chorus of screaming laughter, buried his blushes in his mother's
+lap. The tent had become crowded with stalwart, black
+<i>gitanos</i>, but they were in a domestic mood, smiled on the
+children's antics, and eyed us with grim amusement as the
+women caught up from rough cradles and thrust into our
+arms those elfish babies of theirs. Even the infant of five
+days winked at us with trickery in its jet beads of vision.
+But so inert was gypsy enterprise that we were suffered to
+depart with a few <i>pesetas</i> yet in our possession.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, from eight till one, the <i>Feria</i> is perfect
+Fairyland. Under the light of those clustered gas globes and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span>
+butterfly-colored lanterns pass and repass the loveliest women
+of the world. Beautifully clad as the señoritas have been
+during morning and afternoon, their evening toilets excel and
+crown the rest. White-robed, white-sandalled, their brown,
+bewitching faces peeping out from the lace folds of white mantillas,
+with white shawls, embroidered in glowing hues, folded
+over the arm, and delicate white fans in hand, they look the
+very poetry of maidenhood. Months of saving, weeks of
+stitching, these costumes may have cost, but the <i>Feria</i> is,
+above all, a marriage mart, and the Andalusian girl, usually
+so strictly guarded, so jealously secluded, never allowed to
+walk or shop alone, is now on exhibition. As these radiant
+forms glide along the avenues, the men who meet them coolly
+bend and look full into their faces, scanning line and feature
+with the critical air of connoisseurs. But well these cavaliers
+illustrate the Andalusian catch:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"Because I look thee in the face,</p>
+<p class="i1">Set not for this thy hopes too high,</p>
+<p>For many go to the market-place</p>
+<p class="i1">To see and not to buy."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The girl's opportunity is in her dancing. Every Andalusian
+woman, high or low, knows the <i>Sevillana</i>. Some have
+been trained in it by accredited teachers of the art, but the
+most learn the dance in childhood, as naturally as they learn to
+speak and sing. They are never weary of dancing it, morning,
+noon, and night, two girls together, or a girl and a lad, but
+such dancing is confined to the Moorish privacy of the Spanish
+home&mdash;except in Fair time. Then the whole world may
+stand before the <i>casetas</i> and see the choicest daughters of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span>
+Seville dancing the dance that is very coquetry in motion.
+Rows of girls awaiting their turn, and of matrons who are
+chaperoning the spectacle, sit about the three sides of the
+mimic drawing-room. A dense crowd of men, crying "<i>Ole!
+Ole!</i>" and commenting as freely on the figures and postures
+of the dancers as if they were ballet artistes in a café chantant,
+is gathered close in front. For their view these rhythmic
+maidens dance on, hour after hour, until their great, dusky
+eyes are dim with sleep. The tassels of curly ribbon, tinted
+to match the dainty touches of color in their costumes, seem
+to droop in exhaustion from the tossing castanets. What
+matter? For a Spanish girl to reach her twenty-fifth birthday
+without a <i>novio</i> is a tragedy of failure, and these tired dancers
+are well aware that <i>caballeros</i> are making the rounds from
+<i>caseta</i> to <i>caseta</i>, on purpose to select a wife.</p>
+
+<p>In Gypsy Lane there is no sugar coating. The Flamenco
+dances are directly seductive. The life of the forest animal
+seems reproduced in the fierceness, the fitfulness, the abandon,
+of each strange series of abrupt gesticulations. Yet these
+gypsy women, boldly as they play on the passions of the
+spectators, care only for Gentile money, and fling off with
+fiery scorn the addresses that their songs and dances court.
+Many a flouted gallant could tell the tale of one who</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"Like a right gypsy, hath, at fast and loose,</p>
+<p>Beguiled me to the very heart of loss."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Husbands and lovers look on at the dancers' most extreme
+poses, even caresses, in nonchalant security. While one
+<i>gitana</i> after another takes the stage, a crescent of men and
+women, seated behind, cheer her on with cries and clappings,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span>
+strummings of the guitar, and frenzied beatings of the floor
+with staff and stool. Yet their excitement, even at its apparent
+height, never sweeps them out of their crafty selves. Beyond
+the dancer they see the audience. Disdain and dislike are in
+the atmosphere, and never more than when the rain of silver
+is at its richest. Still they follow the gypsy law, "To cheat
+and rob the stranger always and ever, and be true only to our
+own blood."
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_187" id="i_187"></a>
+<img src="images/i_187.jpg" width="595" height="418" alt="The Passing of the Pageants" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Passing of the Pageants</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XI</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE ROUTE OF THE SILVER FLEETS</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot p2">
+<p>
+"Paul, the Physician, to Cristobal Colombo, greeting. I perceive your magnificent
+and great desire to find a way to where the spices grow."</p>
+
+<p>"And thus leade they their lyves in fullfilling the holy hunger of golde. But the
+more they fill their handes with finding, the more increaseth their covetous desire."<br />
+
+<span class="left65">&mdash;<i>Decades in the New Worlde.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">I</span> wanted to go from Seville to Cadiz by water. I
+longed to sail by the "Silver Road" in the wake of the
+silver fleets. The little artist, as befitted her youth,
+preferred a Manila shawl to that historic pilgrimage. So I
+proposed to make this trifling trip alone.</p>
+
+<p>Don José was shocked. Merriest and most indulgent of
+hosts, he was inclined at this point to play the tyrant. If I
+must see Cadiz, well and good. He would take me to the
+morning express and put me under charge of the conductor.
+At Utrera, an hour farther on, his son would come to the
+train and see that all was well. At <i>Puerto de Santa Maria</i>,
+another hour distant, I should be met by a trusted friend of
+the family, who would transfer me to another train and another
+conductor, and so speed me for my third hour to Cadiz,
+where I should be greeted by a relative of mine hostess and
+conveyed in safety to his home.</p>
+
+<p>I appreciated the kindness involved in this very Andalusian
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span>
+programme, but otherwise it did not appeal to me. That was
+not the way Columbus went, nor Cortés. And much as I
+delighted in the Alhambra, and the Mosque of Cordova, and
+the Alcázar of Seville, I did not feel called upon to bow a
+New England bonnet beneath the Moorish yoke.</p>
+
+<p>Thus Don José and I found ourselves quietly engaged in
+an Hispano-American contest. He heartily disapproved of
+my going, even by train. "<i>Una señora sola!</i> It is not the
+custom in Andalusia." His plan of campaign consisted in
+deferring the arrangements from day to day. "<i>Mañana!</i>"
+Whenever I attempted to set a time for departure he blandly
+assented, and presently projected some irresistibly attractive
+excursion for that very date. His household were all with
+him. His wife had not been able to procure the particular
+<i>dulces</i> indispensable to a traveller's luncheon. Even my
+faithless comrade, draped in her flower-garden shawl, practised
+the steps of a <i>seguidilla</i> to the rattle of the castanets and
+laughed at my defeats.</p>
+
+<p>At last, grown desperate, I suavely announced at the Sunday
+dinner table that I was going to Cadiz that week. My
+host said, "<i>Bueno!</i>" and my hostess, "<i>Muy bien!</i>" But
+there was no surrender in their tones. On Monday, instead
+of writing the requisite notes to these relays of protectors
+along the route, Don José took us himself, on a mimic steamboat,
+for a judicious distance down the Guadalquivír. Tuesday
+he put me off with Roman ruins, and Wednesday with a
+private gallery of Murillos. By Thursday I grew insistent,
+and, with shrug and sigh, he finally consented to my going by
+train on Friday. I still urged the boat, but he heaped up a
+thousand difficulties. There wasn't any; it would be overcrowded;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span>
+I should be seasick; the boat would arrive, wherever
+it might arrive, too late for my train, whatever my train
+might be. Compromise is always becoming, and I agreed to
+take the nine o'clock express in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>After the extended Spanish farewells, for to kiss on both
+cheeks and be kissed on both cheeks down a long feminine line,
+mother, daughters, and maid-servants, is no hasty ceremony,
+I sallied forth at half-past eight with Don José in attendance.
+He called a cab, but in Spain the cabbies are men and
+brothers, and this one, on learning our destination, declared
+that the train did not start until half-past nine and it was
+much better for a lady to wait <i>en casa</i> than at the depot.
+This additional guardianship goaded me to active remonstrance.
+Why not take the cab for the hour and look up a procession
+on our way to the station? There are always processions in
+Seville. This appealed to both the pleasure-loving Spaniards,
+and we drove into the palmy <i>Plaza de San Fernando</i>, where
+an array of military bands was serenading some civic dignitary.</p>
+
+<p>The music was of the best, and we fell in with the large
+and varied retinue that escorted the musicians to the palace of
+the archbishop. As they were rousing him from his reverend
+slumbers with <i>La Marcha de Cadiz</i>, I caught a twinkle in Don
+José's eye. Did he hope to keep me chasing after those
+bands all the forenoon? I awakened the cabman, whom the
+music had lulled into the easy Andalusian doze, and we clattered
+off to the station. Of all silent and forsaken places! I
+looked suspiciously at Don José, whose swarthy countenance
+wore an overdone expression of innocent surprise. A solitary
+official sauntered out.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, señor! Is the express gone?" asked the
+driver.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, señor! There isn't any express to-day,"
+was the reply. "The express runs only Tuesdays, Thursdays,
+and Saturdays."</p>
+
+<p>"What a pity," cooed Don José, contentedly. "You will
+have to wait till to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you can go to-morrow," indulgently added the driver,
+and the official chimed sweetly in, "<i>Mañana por la mañana!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"But is there no other train to-day?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>The official admitted that there was one at three o'clock.
+Don José gave him a reproachful glance.</p>
+
+<p>"But you do not want to go by train," said my ingenious
+host. "Perhaps to-morrow you can go by steamboat."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I can go by steamboat now," I returned, seizing
+my opportunity. "When does that boat start?"</p>
+
+<p>Nobody knew. I asked the cabman to drive us to the
+Golden Tower, off which sea-going vessels usually anchor.
+Don José fell back in his seat, exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>The cabman drove so fast, for Seville, that we ran into a
+donkey and made a paralyzed beggar jump, but we reached the
+river in time to see a small steamer just in the act of swinging
+loose from the pier. In the excitement of the moment Don
+José forgot everything save the necessity of properly presenting
+me to the captain, and I, for my part, was absorbed in
+the ecstasy of sailing from the foot of the Golden Tower
+along the Silver Road.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until a rod of water lay between boat and wharf
+that the captain shouted to Don José, who struck an attitude
+of utter consternation, that this craft went only to Bonanza,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span>
+and no connection could be made from there to Cadiz until
+the following afternoon. And I, mindful of the austere
+dignity that befitted these critical circumstances, could not
+even laugh.</p>
+
+<p>It was a dirty little boat, with a malodorous cargo of fish,
+and for passengers two soldiers, two peasants, and a commercial
+traveller. But what of that? I was sailing on a
+treasure ship of the Indies, one of those lofty galleons of
+Spain, "rowed by thrice one hundred slaves and gay with
+streamers, banners, music," that had delivered at the Golden
+Tower her tribute from the hoard of the Incas, and was
+proudly bearing back to the open roads of Cadiz.</p>
+
+<p>We dropped down past a noble line of deep-sea merchantmen,
+from Marseilles, Hamburg, and far-away ports of Norway
+and Sweden. We passed fishing boats casting their nets,
+and met a stately Spanish bark, the <i>Calderon</i>. On the shores
+we caught glimpses of orange grove and olive orchard, lines
+of osiers and white poplars, and we paused at the little town
+of Coria, famous for its earthen jars, to land one of our
+peasants, while a jolly priest, whose plain black garb was
+relieved by a vermilion parasol, tossed down cigars to his
+friends among the sailors.</p>
+
+<p>Then our galleon pursued her course into the flat and
+desolate regions of the <i>marismas</i>. These great salt marshes
+of the Guadalquivír, scarcely more than a bog in winter,
+serve as pasture for herds of hardy sheep and for those droves
+of mighty bulls bred in Andalusia to die in the arenas of all
+Spain. For long stretches the green bank would be lined
+with the glorious creatures, standing like ebony statues deep
+amid the reeds, some entirely black, and many black with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span>
+slight markings of white. The Guadalquivír intersects in
+triple channel this unpeopled waste, concerning whose profusion
+of plant life and animal life English hunters tell
+strange tales. They report flocks of rosy flamingoes, three
+hundred or five hundred in a column, "glinting in the sunshine
+like a pink cloud," and muddy islets studded thick with
+colonies of flamingo nests. Most wonderful of all, the camel,
+that ancient and serious beast of burden, a figure pertaining
+in all imaginations to the arid, sandy desert, keeps holiday in
+these huge swamps. It seems that, in 1829, a herd of
+camels was brought into the province of Cadiz, from the
+Canaries, for transport service in road-building and the like,
+and for trial in agriculture. But the peculiar distaste of
+horses for these humpy monsters spoiled the scheme, and the
+camels, increased to some eighty in number, took merrily to
+the marshes, where, in defiance of all caravan tradition, they
+thrive in aquatic liberty. The fascination of this wilderness
+reached even the dingy steamer deck. Gulls, ducks, and all
+manner of wild fowl flashed in the sunshine, which often
+made the winding river, as tawny as our James, sparkle like
+liquid gold.</p>
+
+<p>If only it had been gold indeed, and had kept the traceries
+of the Roman keels that have traversed it, the Vandal swords
+whose red it has washed away, the Moorish faces it has
+mirrored, the Spanish&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Usted come?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>It might have been Cortes who was offering that bowl of
+<i>puchero</i>, but no! Cortes would have mixed it in his plumy
+helmet and stirred it with that thin, keen sword one may see
+in the Madrid <i>Armería</i>. This was a barefooted cabin boy, in blue
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span>
+linen blouse and patched blue trousers, with a scarlet cloth cap
+tied over his head by means of an orange-colored handkerchief.
+The dancing eyes that lit his shy brown face had sea
+blues in them. He was a winsome little fellow enough, but
+I did not incline to his cookery. While I was watching
+river, shores, and herds and chatting with the <i>simpático</i> sailor,
+who, taking his cue from my look, expressed the deepest
+abhorrence of the bull-fights, which, I make no doubt, he
+would sell his dinner, jacket, bed, even his guitar, to see, I
+had taken secret note of the cuisine. This child, who could
+not have counted his twelfth birthday, kindled the fire in a
+flimsy tin pail, lined with broken bricks. He cracked over
+his knee a few pieces of driftwood, mixed the fragments
+with bits of coal which he shook out of a sheepskin bottle,
+doused oil over the whole, and cheerfully applied the match,
+while the commercial traveller hastily drew up a bucket of
+water to have on hand for emergencies. Then the boy,
+with excellent intentions in the way of neatness, whisked his
+blackened hands across the rough end of a rope and plunged
+them into the pot of <i>garbanzos</i>, to which he added beans, cabbage,
+remnants of fried fish, and other sundries at his young
+discretion. And while the mess was simmering, he squatted
+down on the deck, with his grimy little feet in his fists,
+rocking himself back and forth to his own wild Malaga songs,
+and occasionally disengaging one hand or the other to plunge
+it into the pot after a tasty morsel.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you eat?" he repeated manfully, reddening under
+the scrutiny of stranger eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Many thanks! May it profit yourself!"</p>
+
+<p>I opened my luncheon, and again we exchanged these fixed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span>
+phrases of Spanish etiquette, although after the refusals enjoined
+by code of courtesy, the boy was finally induced to
+relieve me of my more indigestible goodies.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever hear of Columbus?" I asked, as we munched
+chestnut cakes together, leaning on the rail.</p>
+
+<p>"No, señora," he replied, with another blush, "I have
+heard of nothing. I know little. I am of very small account.
+I cook and sing. I am good for nothing more."</p>
+
+<p>And is it to this those arrogant Spanish boasts, which
+rang like trumpets up and down the Guadalquivír, have
+come at last!</p>
+
+<p>We were in the heart of a perfect sapphire day. The
+river, often turbulent and unruly, was on this April afternoon,
+the sailors said, <i>buen muchacho</i>, a good boy. The boat appeared
+to navigate herself. The captain nodded on his lofty
+perch, and the engineer was curled up in his own tiny hatchway,
+trying to read a newspaper, which the fresh breeze blew
+into horns and balloons. The rough cabin bunks were full
+of sleeping forms, and the leather wine-bottles, flung down
+carelessly in the stern, had cuddled each to each in cozy
+shapes, and seemed to be sleeping, too. The two soldiers,
+who had been gambling with coppers over innumerable games
+of dominos, were listening grimly to the oratory of the commercial
+traveller.</p>
+
+<p>"No fighting for me!" this hero was declaiming. "In
+strenuous times like these a man ought to cherish his life for
+the sake of his country. Spain needs her sons right here at
+home. It is sweet, as the poet says, to die for the <i>patria</i>, but
+to live for the <i>patria</i> is, in my opinion, just as glorious."</p>
+
+<p>"And more comfortable," grunted one of the soldiers,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span>
+while the other gave a hitch to those red infantry trousers
+which look as if they had been wading in blood, and walked forward
+to view from the bows the little white port of Bonanza.</p>
+
+<p>As the boat went no farther, I had to stain my silver route
+by a prosaic parenthesis of land. It was some comfort to
+remember that Magellan waited here for that expedition from
+Seville which was the first to sail around the globe. I think
+I travelled the three miles from Bonanza, Good Weather, to
+San Lúcar de Barrameda in Magellan's own carriage. It was
+certainly old enough. As I sat on a tipsy chair in the middle
+of a rude wagon frame mounted on two shrieking wooden
+wheels, and hooded with broken arches of bamboo, from
+which flapped shreds of russet oilcloth, I entered into poignant
+sympathy with Magellan's ups and downs of hope and
+fear. The jolting was such a torture that, to divert my
+attention, I questioned the driver as to the uses of this and
+that appliance in his rickety ark.</p>
+
+<p>"And what are those ropes for, there in the corner?"
+was my final query.</p>
+
+<p>"Those are to tie the coffins down when I have a fare for
+the cemetery," he replied, cracking his whip over the incredibly
+lean mule that was sulkily jerking us along.</p>
+
+<p>"Please let me get out and walk," I entreated. "You
+may keep the valise and show me the way to the inn, and I
+can go quite as fast as that mule."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, don't!" he begged, with even intenser pathos.
+"Strangers always want to walk before they get to the inn,
+and then the people laugh at me. I know my carriage isn't
+very handsome, but it's the only one in Bonanza. Just do
+me the favor to keep your seat a little longer."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I had been lurched out of it only a minute before, but I
+could not refuse to sacrifice mere bodily ease to the pride of
+Spanish spirit.</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding Don José's dark predictions, this was the
+only trial of the trip. To realize to the full the honesty,
+kindliness, and dignity of the everyday Spaniard, one needs
+to turn off from the sight-seer's route. On the beaten tourist
+track are exorbitant hotels, greedy guides, cheating merchants,
+troops of beggars&mdash;everywhere "the itching palm." But
+here in San Lúcar, for instance, where I had to spend twenty-four
+hours at a genuine Spanish <i>fonda</i>, the proprietor took no
+advantage of the facts that I was a foreigner, a woman, and
+practically a prisoner in the place until the Saturday afternoon
+train went out, but gave me excellent accommodations, most
+respectful and considerate treatment, and the lowest hotel bill
+that I had seen in Spain.</p>
+
+<p>San Lúcar has, in early Spanish literature, a very ill name
+for roguery, but, so far as my brief experience went, Boston
+could not have been safer and would not have been so genial.
+I strayed, for instance, into a modest little shop to buy a cake
+of soap, which its owner declined to sell, insisting that I
+ought to have a choicer variety than his, and sending his son,
+a lad of sixteen, to point me out more fashionable counters.
+This youth showed me the sights of the pleasant seashore
+town, with its tiers of closely grated windows standing out
+from the white fronts of the houses, and its sturdy packhorses
+and orange-laden donkeys streaming along the rough stone
+streets, and when, at the inn door, I hesitatingly offered him
+a piece of silver, doffed his cap with smiling ease, and said
+he did not take pay for a pleasure.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Once off the regular lines of travel, however, speed is out
+of the question. I might have gone from Seville to Cadiz in
+three hours; thanks to historic enthusiasms, it took me nearer
+three days. After escaping from San Lúcar, I had to pass
+four hours in Jerez, another whitewashed, palm-planted town,
+whose famous sherry has made it the third city in Spain for
+wealth. The thing to do at Jerez is to visit the great <i>bodegas</i>
+and taste the rich white liquors treasured in those monster
+casks, which bear all manner of names, from Christ and His
+twelve disciples to Napoleon the Great; but mindful, in the
+light of Don José's admonitions, that the weak feminine
+estate is "as water unto wine," I contented myself with seeing
+the strange storage basin of the mountain aqueduct&mdash;an
+immense, immaculate cellar, where endless vistas of low stone
+arches stretch away in the silent dusk above the glimmer of
+a ghostly lake.</p>
+
+<p>The train for Cadiz must needs be two hours late this
+particular evening, but my cabman drove me to approved
+shops for the purchase of bread and fruit, and then, of his own
+motion, drew up our modest equipage in a shady nook opposite
+the villa of the English consul, that I might enjoy my
+Arcadian repast with a secure mind. Jehu accepted, after
+due protestations, a share of the viands, and reciprocated the
+attention by buying me a glass of water at the nearest stand,
+much amused at my continued preference for Jerez water
+over Jerez wine.</p>
+
+<p>One of the Jerez wine merchants, German by birth, shared
+the railway carriage with me for a while, and after the social
+wont of Continental travel fell to discussing the war. "The
+Spaniards deserved to be beaten," he declared, "but the Yankees
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span>
+didn't deserve to beat. They were conceited enough
+before, heaven knows, and now they expect all Europe to
+black their shoddy shoes. Your own country was a bit to
+blame in blocking every effort to keep them in their place."</p>
+
+<p>I felt it time to explain that I was not English, but American.
+Much disconcerted, he did his best to make amends.</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't have said that for the world if I had known
+you were an American&mdash;but it's every syllable true."</p>
+
+<p>He thought over this remark in silence for a moment, his
+Teutonic spirit sorely strained between kindliness and honesty,
+and tried again.</p>
+
+<p>"I would like to say something good about the United
+States, I would indeed,&mdash;if there was anything to say."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to occur to him, after a little, that even this
+apology left something to be desired, and he brightened up.</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't you like some roses? They sell them here at
+this station. There comes a boy now with a nice, big bunch.
+One <i>peseta</i>! I think that's too dear, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>I hastened to assent.</p>
+
+<p>"The lady says that's too dear. Seventy-five <i>centimos</i>?
+No. The lady can't pay that. Sixty <i>centimos</i>? No.
+The lady can't afford sixty <i>centimos</i>. Fifty <i>centimos</i>? No.
+The lady says fifty <i>centimos</i> is too much. She will take
+them at forty <i>centimos</i>. Here's a half <i>peseta</i>. And you
+must give me back a fat dog."</p>
+
+<p>The boy held back the penny and tried to substitute a
+cent.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sir, please, sir, forty-five <i>centimos</i>! There are two
+dozen roses here, and all fresh as the dawn. Give me the
+puppy-dog over."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But the German, who knew how to put even a sharper
+edge on the inveterate Spanish bargaining, secured for the
+value of eight cents, instead of twenty, his great bouquet of
+really beautiful roses, and presented it with as much of a bow
+as the carriage limits permitted.</p>
+
+<p>"I meant to pay all the time, you know; but one can
+always make a better trade, in Spain, if it is done in the name
+of a lady." And he added, with that sudden tact which
+innate goodness and delicacy give to the most blundering of
+us mortals, "If you don't like to take them from a stranger for
+yourself, you will take them as my peace-offering to your
+country."</p>
+
+<p>I was reminded again of my native land by another fellow-traveller&mdash;a
+Spaniard of the Spaniards, this time, one of the
+Conservative and Catholic leaders, greeted at the various
+stations by priests and monks and friars, whose hands he
+solemnly kissed. This distinguished personage was absorbed
+in a voluminous type-written manuscript, from which he occasionally
+read aloud to the band of political confidants who accompanied
+him. It was an arraignment of the Liberal Party,
+and, by way of exposing the errors of the Sagasta government,
+included a merciless résumé of the Spanish naval and military
+disasters, with elaborate comparisons of the American and
+Spanish equipments. He was then on his way to join in a
+consoling pilgrimage to a certain image of Christ, which had
+been cudgelled by a grief-maddened priest whose dying mother
+the image had failed to heal.</p>
+
+<p>These surroundings more or less jostled my sixteenth-century
+dream, but I held to it so stubbornly that, when
+pyramids of salt began to glimmer like ghosts along the way,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span>
+and a sweeping curve of lights warned me of our approach to
+Cadiz, I made a point of seeing as little as possible. It was
+midnight, but Spanish hours are luckily so late that Don
+José's friends were still at the height of evening sociability
+and regaled me with alternate showers of sweetmeats and
+questions. Finally, after many exclamations of horror at the
+audacity of the trip, all the feminine hospitality of the household
+lighted me to a chamber whose walls were hung with
+pictures of martyrs and agonizing saints. Among these I
+counted five colored representations of Christ opening his
+breast to display the bleeding heart.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning I promptly took boat to <i>Puerto de Santa
+Maria</i>, embarked on the return steamer, and so at last found
+myself once more on the Silver Road, entering Cadiz harbor
+from the sea.</p>
+
+<p>To be sure, the <i>Montserrat</i> was riding proudly in my view,
+although the warships to which she had been used to curtsy in
+the open roads of Cadiz would never cut those shining waves
+again. The waters were as turquoise blue as if they had just
+come from the brush of an old master, and the towered city
+rose before us like a crystal castle in the air. Its limited
+space, built as it is within great sea walls on an outlying rock,
+which only a rope of sand moors to the mainland, has necessitated
+narrow streets and high houses, whose <i>miradores</i>, lookouts
+that everywhere crown the terraced roofs, give this
+battlemented aspect to the town. One of the most ancient
+and tragic cities known to time, claiming Hercules for its
+founder, in turn Ph&oelig;nician, Carthaginian, Roman, Gothic,
+Moorish, Spanish, it yet looks fresh as a water-lily. I could
+have spent another three days in gazing. And this sparkling
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span>
+vision was Spain's <i>Copa de Plata</i>, the Silver Cup which has
+brimmed with the gold and pearls of America, with blood and
+flame and glory. Its riches have taken to themselves wings,
+but its high, free spirit and frank gayety abide. Still the
+Andalusians sing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"<i>Viva</i> Cadiz, Silver Cadiz,</p>
+<p class="i1">Whose walls defy the sea,</p>
+<p>Cadiz of the pretty girls,</p>
+<p class="i1">Of courtesy and glee!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Good luck to merry Cadiz,</p>
+<p class="i1">As white as ocean spray,</p>
+<p>And her five and twenty cannon</p>
+<p class="i1">That point Gibraltar way!"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>But I am bound to add that the cannon do not look
+dangerous.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XII</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">MURILLO'S CHERUBS</p>
+
+<div class="poem p2">
+<p class="o1">"Angels o'er the palm trees flying,</p>
+<p class="i2">Touch their waving fronds to rest.</p>
+<p>Bid them give no wind replying.</p>
+<p class="i2">Jesus sleeps on Mary's breast.</p>
+<p>Blesséd angels, hold the peeping</p>
+<p class="i2">Branches still as altar-place,</p>
+<p>For the Holy Child is sleeping</p>
+<p class="i2">Close beneath His Mother's face."</p>
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Lope de Vega.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">S</span>panish love for childhood, and the precocity and
+winsomeness of Spanish children, impressed me from
+my first hour in the Peninsula. "There is no road
+so level as to be without rough places," and the initial days of
+my Madrid residence, after my artist comrade had gone back to
+Paris and the spring salons, might have been a trifle lonely save
+for baby society. I was living in a delightful Spanish household,
+but the very excess of courtesy reminded me continually
+that I was a Yankee and a heretic. As time passed, friendship
+ripened, and it is to-day no empty form of words when
+I am assured that I have "my house in Madrid." But at
+the outset I felt myself not only an American alien, but an
+Andalusian exile. The "only Court" is such a prosaic contrast
+to Seville that my impulse was to betake myself with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span>
+books to the great park of the Buen Retiro, the magnificent
+gift of Olivares to his royal master, and let the Madrid world,
+at least the adult portion of it, go by. For while the larger
+Madrileños were busy with their own plays of politics,
+bull-fights, and flirtation, the little ones had happy afternoons
+in that historic park of many a tragedy, where
+convents, palaces, and fortifications have all made way for
+the children's romping ground. Resting on a rustic seat in
+the leafy shade, with the rich, thrilling notes of the nightingale
+answering the bell call of the cuckoo from the deeper
+groves beyond, I could watch these budding Spaniards to
+heart's content.</p>
+
+<p>It was well to observe them from a distance, however, for
+their young voices were of the shrillest. Among the boys,
+an energetic few were developing muscle by tag and leap-frog;
+more were flying kites, cracking whips, twirling slings,
+and brandishing the terrors of pewter swords; while at every
+turn, beside some flashing fountain or beneath some spreading
+oak, I would come upon a group of urchins playing <i>al toro</i>
+with the cheap, gaudy capes of red and yellow manufactured
+for the children's sport. The girls were skipping rope, rolling
+hoop, teaching one another the steps of endless dances,
+and whispering momentous secrets in statue-guarded grottos,
+or thickets of flowering shrubs, or whatsoever safe, mysterious
+nook their fluttering search could find.</p>
+
+<p>Here was a school out for its daily airing, a pretty procession
+of rainbow-clad little damsels, marshalled by the black-veiled
+figures of graceful nuns, and pacing with all decorum
+down a crowded avenue; but the moment the troop turned into
+some sequestered by-path, how it would break into a shimmering
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span>
+confusion of butterflies, darting hither and thither
+in those jewel-green lights and sea-green shadows, the nuns
+casting their dignity to the winds and scampering with the
+swiftest! Wandering after I would come, perhaps, upon
+an open space where the smaller boys were gathered, delicate
+little lads riding horse-headed sticks, digging with mimic
+spades, and tossing big, soft, red and yellow balls, while
+mothers and nurses sat about in circle on the stone benches,
+calling out sharp-toned cautions to their respective charges.</p>
+
+<p>And everywhere in the park were toddling babies, clasping
+dolls, tugging at gay balloons, dragging wooden donkeys on
+wheels, and tumbling over live puppies. They were pale,
+engaging, persistent little creatures, with a true Spanish inability
+to learn from experience. I saw one aristocratic
+cherub, white as snow from feathered cap to ribboned shoes,
+take ten successive slappings because he muddied his hands.
+The angry nurse would make a snatch for the naughty
+fingers, roughly beat off the dirt, and cuff the culprit soundly.
+His proud little mouth would tremble; he would wink hard
+and fast, but there was not a tear to be seen, not a cry to be
+heard, and no sooner had her peasant clutch released him than
+back went the baby hands, grubbing deep into the mire. A
+gorgeous civil guard finally distracted her attention, and the
+last view I had of the child showed him blissfully squatted in
+the very middle of a puddle, splashing with arms and legs.</p>
+
+<p>White is almost the universal wear of the prattling age in
+the Buen Retiro, although now and then some lily fairy would
+flit by with saffron sash and harmonious saffron stockings, or
+costume similarly touched by pink or blue. The Scotch
+plaids, too, were in favor as sashes, and at rare intervals I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span>
+encountered a tot sensibly attired in stout plaid frock. But
+the white of this childish multitude was thickly flecked with
+mourning suits, complete to bits of black gloves and even to
+jet studs in the collars. Among the sad sights of the Retiro
+was an epileptic boy, led and half supported between two
+sweet-faced, youthful ladies, both in widow's crêpe, who
+screened him with caresses as his fit took him and he foamed
+and screamed in piteous helplessness. This pathetic trio, ever
+seeking seclusion, was ever followed by a retinue of idlers,
+who, for all their intrusive staring, were silent and sympathetic.</p>
+
+<p>The nursemaids formed not the least attractive feature of the
+kaleidoscopic picture. Most wore white caps, fastened with
+gilded pins or knots of rose or russet; but the nurses counted
+the best, from the mountain province of Santander, were
+distinguished by bright-colored handkerchiefs twisted about
+the head. Here, as in the <i>Élysées</i>, baby-wagons are seldom
+seen. The nurses carry in arms the black-eyed infants, who
+bite away at their coral necklaces quite like little Yankees.</p>
+
+<p>But Spanish traits soon declare themselves. In the centre
+of the park is an artificial pond, where lads in their first teens,
+too old for play, lean languidly over the iron railings, and,
+while they throw crumbs to the flock of forlorn-looking ducks
+or watch the dip of the red oar-blades that impel the pleasure
+boats, brag of their amorous adventures and exchange the
+scandal of the <i>Prado</i>. Sometimes their love chat is of
+sweeter tenor, for many of these schoolboys have already
+spoken their betrothal vows, which the Church will not let
+them lightly break. Spaniards often marry under twenty-one,
+and even a recent wedding in Madrid, where neither bride
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span>
+nor bridegroom had reached the fifteenth year, was hardly
+thought amiss, in view of the fact that there was parental
+money to maintain them.</p>
+
+<p>And why had the stately city of Valladolid been under a
+reign of terror for half the week just past, with shutters up,
+doors barred, and women and children kept at home for
+safety, while bands of young men swayed in bloody struggle
+through her famous squares and streets, but because a cadet
+and a student must needs lose heart to the same maid?
+Cupid, not Santiago, is the patron saint of Spain. And
+Cupid, for all his mischief, has some very winning ways.
+Our boyish sentimentalists of the Buen Retiro, for instance,
+easily fall into song, and the native melodies, always with
+something wild and Oriental in their beat, ring across the
+little lake into the woods beyond till the birds take up the
+challenge and every tree grows vocal.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon, on my way to the park, I bought from a
+roadside vender a handful of small, gaudily bound children's
+books, and had no sooner found what I fondly supposed was
+a sequestered seat than a tumult of little folks surrounded me,
+coaxing to hear the stories. These tales, so taken at random,
+may throw a little light on the literature of Spanish nurseries.
+There was the life of the Madonna, which we passed over,
+as the children said they had read it in school and knew it,
+every word, already. So we turned to the astonishing career
+of the great soldier, Kill-Bullet, who could easily stop a
+cannon-ball against his palm, and to an account of that far-off
+land where it rained gold in such profusion that nobody would
+work, until finally all the people, weary of a wealth which
+induced no tailor to stitch and no shoemaker to cobble, no
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span>
+baker to bake and no dairy-maid to churn, rose by common
+consent and shovelled the gold into the river. We read of
+hot-tempered little Ambrose, who left the gate of his garden
+open, so that a hen cackled in and began to scratch under a
+rose bush, whereupon the angry boy chased her furiously all
+over the garden-beds until his summer's work was trampled
+into ruin, and his papa came and explained to him how disastrous
+a thing is wrath. There was a companion moral tale
+for little girls, telling how Inez used to make faces until her
+mamma told her that she would grow up with a twisted
+mouth and nobody would marry her, whereat did little Inez
+promptly reform her manners. One favorite volume, with
+a cover which displayed a wild-whiskered old ogre in a fiery
+skullcap gloating over a platterful of very pink baby, told how
+good little Violet saved her bad sisters, Rose and Daisy, from
+his dreadful gullet, by aid of an ugly monkey, whom her
+promised kiss transformed into a fairy prince. I was glad to
+find, in that country where so little is done to train children
+in the love of animals, the ancient tale of the four musicians,
+the donkey, the dog, the cat, and the cock, who escaped in
+their old age from the death that threatened them at the hands
+of ungrateful masters and, by a free exercise of their musical
+talents, captured the house of a robber-band, putting its inmates
+to confusion and flight. Many of the stories, indeed,
+would have been recognized by young Americans, but the
+proportion of saint-lore was larger than that of fairy-lore, and,
+now and then, some familiar property had suffered a Spanish
+change, as the invisible cap which had become an invisible
+cape of the sort used for playing bull-fight.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_210" id="i_210"></a>
+<img src="images/i_210.jpg" width="423" height="484" alt="The Pageant of Gethsemane" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Pageant of Gethsemane</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The nursery rhymes, too, so far as I chanced upon them,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span>
+were of the universal type with Spanish variations. A Castilian
+mother plays Peek-a-boo with her baby quite as an English
+mother does, except that the syllables are <i>Cú?</i> <i>Trás!</i> The
+father's foot trots the child to a Catholic market.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Trot, little donkey! Donkey, trot!</p>
+<p class="i1">We must buy honey to please the pet.</p>
+<p>If San Francisco has it not,</p>
+<p class="i1">We'll go to San Benet."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Baby's toes are counted as the eternal five little pigs, and
+also thus, with a preliminary tickling of the rosy sole:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Here passed a little dove. This one caught it. This
+one killed it. This one put it on to roast. This one took it
+off again. And this teeny-teeny-teeny scamp ate it all up!"</p>
+
+<p>Spanish patty-cakes are followed by a Spanish grace.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Patty-cakes, oh! Patty-cakes, ah!</p>
+<p class="i1">The sweetest cakes are for dear mama.</p>
+<p>Patty-cakes, oh! Patty-cakes, ah!</p>
+<p class="i1">The hardest pats are for poor papa,</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Bread, O God! Bread, dear God,</p>
+<p class="i1">For this little child to-day!</p>
+<p>Because he's such a baby</p>
+<p class="i1">He cannot pay his way."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Spanish nursery seems richer in rhymes than ours.
+Nurse bends Baby's left hand into a rose-leaf purse, for example,
+and gives it little taps with one finger after another of
+Baby's right hand, singing:&mdash;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"A penny for Baby's purse</p>
+<p class="i1">From papa, mama, and nurse.</p>
+<p>A penny, a penny to pay!</p>
+<p class="i1">Let no thief steal it away!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And then the tiny fist is doubled tight.</p>
+
+<p>When the child, again, is first dressed in short clothes, he
+is propped up in a corner and coaxed to take his first step
+with the rhyme:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"One little step, Baby-boy mine!</p>
+<p class="i1">Come, Little Man, step up!</p>
+<p>And thou shalt have a taste of wine</p>
+<p class="i1">From Godfather's silver cup."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>This rhyming fashion the little ones take with them out of
+babyhood into their later childhood. The urchin admonishes
+his whistle:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Whistle, whistle, Margarita,</p>
+<p class="i1">And you'll get a crust of bread,</p>
+<p>But if you do not whistle</p>
+<p class="i1">I'll cut off your little head."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The little girl learns the scales in process of rocking her
+doll to sleep:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Don't pin-prick my poor old dolly, <i>Do</i></p>
+<p>Respect my domestic matters. <i>Re</i></p>
+<p>Methinks she grows melancholy, <i>Mi</i></p>
+<p>Fast as her sawdust scatters. <i>Fa</i></p>
+<p>Sole rose of your mama's posy, <i>Sol</i></p>
+<p>Laugh at your mama, so! <i>La</i></p>
+<p>Seal up your eyes all cozy. <i>Si</i></p>
+<p><i>La Sol Fa Mi Re Do.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span>
+With Spanish children, as with ours, Christmas Eve, or
+<i>Noche Buena</i>, is a season of gleeful excitement. They do not
+hang up stockings for Santa Claus, but they put out their
+shoes on the balcony for the Kings of the East, riding high
+on camel-back, to fill with sweets and playthings. Considerate
+children, too, put out a handful of straw for the tired
+beasts who have journeyed so far over the Milky Way. On
+some balconies the morning sun beholds rocking-horses and
+rocking-donkeys, make-believe theatres and bull-rings, with
+toy images of soldiers, bulls and Holy Families; but if the
+child has been naughty and displeased the Magi, his poor little
+shoes will stand empty and ashamed.</p>
+
+<p>The dramatic instinct, so strong in Spaniards, is strikingly
+manifested in the children's games. These little people are
+devoted to the theatre, too, and may be seen in force at the
+matinées in the Apolo, Lara, and Zarzuela. Afternoon performances
+are given only on Sundays and the other Catholic
+<i>fiestas</i>, which last, numerous enough, are well within reach of
+the Puritan conscience. At these matinées more than half the
+seats in the house are occupied by juvenile ticket-holders, from
+rows of vociferous urchins in the galleries, to round-eyed
+babies cooing over their nurses' shoulders. If the play is an
+extravaganza, abounding in magic and misadventure, the rapture
+of the childish audience is at its height.</p>
+
+<p>The close attention with which mere three-year-olds follow
+the action is astonishing. "<i>Bonito!</i>" lisping voices cry after
+each fantastic ballet, and wee white hands twinkle up and down
+in time with the merry music. When the clown divests himself,
+one by one, of a score of waistcoats, or successively
+pulls thirty or forty smiling dairy-maids out of a churn, little
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span>
+arithmeticians all over the house call out the count and dispute
+his numbers with him. When the dragon spits his
+shower of sparks, when chairs sidle away from beneath the
+unfortunates who would sit down or suddenly rise with
+them toward the ceiling, when signboards whirl, and dinners
+frisk up chimney, cigars puff out into tall hats, and umbrellas
+fire off bullets, the hubbub of wonder and delight drowns the
+voices of the actors.</p>
+
+<p>The house is never still for one single instant. Babies cry
+wearily, nurses murmur soothingly, mystified innocents pipe
+out questions, papas rebuke and explain, exasperated old
+bachelors hiss for silence, saucy boys hiss back for fun&mdash;all
+together the Madrid matinée affords a far better opportunity
+to study child life than to hear the comedy upon the
+boards.</p>
+
+<p>The boy king of Spain is, of course, a fascinating figure to
+his child subjects. We were told at San Sebastian, where the
+Queen Regent has a summer palace, that on those red-letter
+days when the king takes a sea dip, children come running
+from far and near to see him step into the surf, with two
+stalwart soldiers gripping the royal little fists. And no sooner
+has the Court returned to the sumptuous, anxious palace of
+Madrid, than the boy bathers of San Sebastian delight themselves
+in playing king, mincing down the beach under the
+pompous military escort that they take turns in furnishing one
+another.</p>
+
+<p>In Madrid, too, the sightseeing crowds that gather before
+the royal palace or at the doors of the <i>Iglesia del Buen Suceso</i>,
+where the Queen Regent, with her "august children," sometimes
+attends the <i>Salve</i> on Saturday afternoons, are thickly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span>
+peppered with little folks, eager to "see the king." They
+are often disappointed, for the precious life is jealously
+guarded, especially while the Carlist cloud still broods above
+the throne. During my stay in Madrid, a man with a revolver
+under his coat was arrested on suspicion in the vestibule
+of the theatre known as <i>La Comédia</i>, where the queen
+was passing the evening. Sceptical Madrid shrugged its
+shoulders and said: "Stuff and nonsense! When the
+Ministers want the queen to sign a paper that isn't to her
+liking, they make a great show of devotion and pounce
+down on some poor devil as an anarchist, to frighten her
+into being meek and grateful." And, in fact, the prisoner
+was almost immediately released for lack of any incriminating
+evidence. For weeks after, nevertheless, the royal movements
+were more difficult to forecast, and on the daily drives
+the kinglet was often missing from the family group.</p>
+
+<p>But, undiscouraged, every afternoon the children would
+fringe the palace side of the <i>Plaza de Oriente</i>, hoping to see
+the royal carriage go or come with their young sovereign,
+whose portrait, a wistful, boyish face above a broad lace collar,
+is printed in one of their school reading books over the
+inscription, "To the Head of the State honor and obedience
+are due." Expectant youngsters, in the all-enveloping black
+pinafores that remind the eye of Paris, with book satchels
+made of gay carpeting over the shoulder, would shake out
+their smudgy handkerchiefs, often stamped with the likenesses
+of famous <i>toreros</i>, and help themselves to one another's hats
+in readiness to salute; but the elegant landau, preceded by an
+escort of two horsemen, dashes by so swiftly that their long
+waiting would be rewarded only by the briefest glimpse of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span>
+bowing bonnets and of a small gloved hand touching the military
+cap that shades a childish face.</p>
+
+<p>It is a pale and sober little face as I have seen it, but Madrileños
+resent this impression and insist that his youthful
+Majesty is "sturdy enough," and as merry as need be. They
+say that the buoyancy which he inherits from his father is
+crossed by strange fits of brooding, due to his mother's blood,
+but that he is, in the main, a merry-hearted child. Although
+he has masters for his studies now, his affection still
+clings to his Austrian governess, whom, none the less, he
+dearly loves to tease. When she is honored by an invitation
+to drive with the Queen Regent, for example, Alphonsito
+hastens to hide her hat and then joins most solicitously in her
+fluttered search, until her suspicion darts upon him, and his
+prank breaks down in peals of laughter. Madrid was especially
+sensitive about him last year, for he, Alfonso XIII,
+godson of Pope Leo XIII, was thirteen years of age&mdash;an
+iteration of the unlucky omen that really ought to be satisfied
+with the loss of the Spanish colonies. His mother, in honor
+of his birthday, May seventeenth, distributed five thousand dollars
+among orphan asylums and other charities, and held a
+grand reception in the Hall of the Ambassadors, where the
+slight lad in cadet uniform, enthroned beside the Queen Regent
+between the two great lions of gilded bronze, received the
+congratulations of a long procession of bowing ministers,
+admirals, captain generals, prelates, and those haughty grandees
+of Spain whose ancient privilege it is to wear their hats
+in the royal presence; but the shrinkage of his realm since
+his last birthday must have been uppermost in the mind of
+even the young lord of the festival. <i>Pobrecito!</i> one wonders
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span>
+what thoughts go on behind those serious brows of his, when,
+for instance, he looks down from his palace windows at the
+daily ceremony of guard-mounting in the courtyard. It is
+such a gallant sight; the martial music is so stirring; the
+cavalry in blue and silver sit their white steeds so proudly,
+with the sun glistening on their drawn swords and the wind
+tossing their long, white, horsehair plumes, that all these
+tales of defeat and loss must puzzle the sore boy heart and
+cast confusing shadows down the path before him.</p>
+
+<p>Little as the Spaniards love the Queen Regent, to whom
+they cannot pardon her two cardinal offences of being a
+"foreigner" and of disliking the bull-fight, they have a certain
+affection for Alfonso XIII, "the only child born a king since
+Christ." Indeed, Spain seems to have been always sympathetic
+toward childhood in palaces. Enter this wonderful <i>Armería</i>
+of Madrid, where those plumed and armored kings, on richly
+caparisoned chargers, whom we have come to know in the
+paintings of the <i>Museo del Prado</i>, seem to have leapt from
+the canvases to greet us here in still more lifelike guise, albeit
+not over graciously, with horse reined back and mighty lance
+at poise. Any fine morning they may all come clattering out
+into the <i>Plaza de Armas</i>&mdash;and where will the United States
+be then? Here stands a majestic row of them&mdash;Philip II,
+in a resplendent suit of gold-inlaid plate-armor; Maximilian,
+whose visor gives him the fierce hooked beak of an eagle;
+Sebastian of Portugal, with nymphs embossed in cunning work
+on his rich breastplate; and Charles V, three times over, in
+varieties of imperial magnificence.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_219" id="i_219"></a>
+<img src="images/i_219.jpg" width="414" height="619" alt="Jesus of the Passion" />
+<p class="caption">"<span class="smcap">Jesus of the Passion"</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But opposite these stern warriors is a hollow square of boy
+princes, and of noble <i>niños</i> whose visors hide their identities
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span>
+in long oblivion. The armor of these childish figures is
+daintily wrought, with tender touches of ruffs and cuffs, scallops
+and flutings and rosettes. Often only the upper half of
+the body is incased in steel, the slender legs playing the dandy
+in puffed trousers of striped velvet&mdash;scarlet, green, and buff&mdash;silk
+hose, and satin slippers. Little Philip III proudly
+displays a diminutive round shield, with a relief of battle
+scenes in gold. The plate armor of little Philip IV is
+stamped with lions and castles, eagles and spears. And his
+little son, Don Baltasar Carlos, bestrides a spirited pony and
+wears at the back of his helmet a tuft of garnet feathers.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Prado</i> galleries abound in royal children. This same
+<i>infante</i>, Don Baltasar, is seen here in the foreground of a
+lonely landscape, with desolate blue hills beyond and driving
+clouds above. But all the more bright and winsome glows
+the form of the six-year-old horseman, the gold-fringed, pink
+sash that crosses his breast streaming out far behind with the
+speed of his fearless gallop. Supreme among the <i>Prado</i> children,
+of course, is the little daughter of Philip IV, the central
+figure of the world-renowned <i>Las Meninas</i>. All in vain does
+her charming maid of honor kneel to her with the golden cup;
+all in vain does the dwarf tease the drowsy dog. The solemn
+puss, undiverted, will not stir from her pose nor alter the set
+of her small features until the artist, standing half disdainfully
+before his easel, gives the word. She has waited for it now
+hard upon two hundred and fifty years, but the centuries beat
+in vain against that inflexible bit of propriety.</p>
+
+<p>Even the royal burial vaults beneath the grim Escorial have
+in their chill grandeur of marble halls an especial Panteon for
+babies, princely innocents whose lives are reckoned in months
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span>
+more often than in years. Gold and blue and red brighten
+their great white sepulchre, and above the altar smiles the
+Christ Child, with the graven words, "Suffer the children
+to come unto me." But for Alfonso XIII a sombre sarcophagus
+waits in the haughtiest and gloomiest of all the Panteons,
+where only kings, and queens who were mothers of kings,
+may lie.</p>
+
+<p>It is not royal childhood alone that is dear to this strange,
+romantic, monstrously inconsistent heart of Spain. The cruelty
+of Spaniards to horses and donkeys sickens even the roughest
+Englishman, yet almost every voice softens in speaking to a
+child, and during my six months in Spanish cities I saw
+nothing of that street brutality toward the little ones which
+forces itself upon daily notice in Liverpool and London.
+Spanish children are too often ill-cared for, but despite the
+abuses of ignorant motherhood and fatherhood, such vivid,
+vivacious, bewitching little people as they are! Enter a
+Spanish schoolroom and see how vehemently the small brown
+hands are wagged in air, how the black eyes dance and the
+dimples play, what a stir and bustle, what a young exuberance
+of energy! They race to the blackboards like colts out at
+pasture. They laugh at everything, these sons of "the grave
+Spaniard," and even the teacher will duck his head behind
+the desk for a half-hidden ecstasy over some dunce's blunder
+or some rogue's detected trick.</p>
+
+<p>But their high spirits never make them unmindful of those
+courtesies of life in which they have been so carefully trained.
+There is an old-fashioned exaggeration about their set phrases
+of politeness. Just as the casual caller kisses the lady's feet,
+in words, and she reciprocates by a verbal kissing of his hand,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span>
+so the school children respond to the roll call with a glib:
+"Your servant, sir." Ask a well-bred boy his name, and he
+rattles back, "Jesus Herrera y La-Chica, at the service of
+God and yourself." They learn these amenities of speech
+with their first lispings. I was much taken aback one day
+in Seville by a child of eighteen months. Not in the least
+expecting this infant, whose rosy face was bashfully snuggled
+into his young aunt's neck, to understand, I said to her,
+"What a fine little fellow!" Whereupon Master Roly-poly
+suddenly sat up straight on her arm, ducked his head in my
+direction, and gravely enunciated, "<i>Es favor que Usted me hace</i>"&mdash;"It
+is a compliment you pay me." I could hardly recover
+from the shock in time to make the stereotyped rejoinder,
+"<i>No es favor, es justicia</i>"&mdash;"No compliment, but the truth."
+To this Don Chubbykins sweetly returned, "<i>Mil gracias</i>"&mdash;"A
+thousand thanks," and I closed this uncanny dialogue
+with the due response, "<i>No las merece</i>"&mdash;"It does not merit
+them."</p>
+
+<p>Servants, neighbors, passers-by, beggars, all prompt the
+children in these shibboleths of good manners, adorning the
+precept with example. "Would you like to go with us to
+the picture gallery this afternoon?" I once asked a laddie
+of artistic tastes at a boarding-house table. "<i>Si, señora</i>," he
+replied, whereupon several of the boarders, greatly scandalized,
+hastened to remind him, but in the gentlest of tones, of the
+essential addition, "<i>con mucho gusto</i>" to which we were bound
+to reply, "The pleasure will be ours." The girls, even more
+than the boys, are bred in these formal fashions of intercourse.
+Every morning they ask if you have rested well, and express
+grief or gratification, according to your response. In Mrs.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span>
+Gulick's school, mere midgets of six and eight, returning from
+class, will not close the doors of their rooms if you are in
+sight, though perhaps seated at a reading table in the farther
+end of the corridor, lest they should appear inhospitable. On
+our return from Italica, a thirsty child of seven, heated to
+exhaustion with the sun and fun of that Andalusian picnic,
+refused to touch the anise-seed water which some good Samaritan
+had handed up to the dusty carriage, until the glass had
+been offered to every one else, driver included, leaving, in the
+sequel, little enough for her. On our midnight return from
+the <i>Feria</i>, this same <i>niña</i> of gentle memory, staggering and
+half crying with sleepiness, would nevertheless not precede
+any of her elders in entering the home door. "After you,"
+she sobbed, with hardly voice enough to add, "And may
+you all rest well!" "The same to you," chorussed the
+adults, trooping by, and her faint murmur followed, "Many
+thanks."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I give you this fan when I go away," I asked her
+once, "or would you rather have it now to take to the party?"
+She wanted it then and there, but what she answered was,
+"I shall be best pleased to take it when you like best to give
+it."</p>
+
+<p>You must beware of saying to a little Spanish maid, "What
+a beautiful rosebud in your hair!" Instantly the hand is busy
+with the pins. "It is at your disposal." You hastily protest,
+"A thousand thanks, but no, no, no! It is very well placed
+where it is." Off comes the flower, notwithstanding, and is
+fastened into your belt. For when the elder sister has insisted
+on giving you (until the next ball) those dancing slippers
+which you so rashly admired, and the sister's <i>novio</i> went
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span>
+home the night before without his cloak, because you had
+approved its colors (although he sent his man around for it
+before breakfast), what can the children do but follow suit?
+Even their form of "Now I Lay Me" is touched with their
+quaint politeness:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Jesus, Joseph, Mary,</p>
+<p class="i1">Your little servant keep,</p>
+<p>While, with your kind permission,</p>
+<p class="i1">I lay me down to sleep."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The precocity of Spanish children is a recognized fact.
+An educational expert, a Frenchman who holds a chair in an
+English university, assured us that beyond a doubt Spanish
+children, for the first dozen years of life, develop more
+rapidly than any other children of Europe. Yet, although
+these clever little Spaniards are so punctiliously taught to put
+the pleasure of others before their own, they are treated with
+universal indulgence. Soldiers lining the curbstones on occasion
+of a royal progress will let the children press in beside
+them and cling to their valorous legs, until the military array
+seems variegated with a Kindergarten. My farewell glimpse
+of Toledo, on Corpus Christi Day, makes a pretty picture in
+memory. The red-robed cardinal, who had come to the
+station to take his train, was fairly stormed by all the children
+within sight, clamoring for his blessing. In vain the
+attendant priests tried to scatter the throng, and ladies of high
+degree, planting their chairs in a circle about the prelate,
+acted as a laughing body-guard. It was all of no avail. The
+little people danced up and down with eagerness, dodged
+under arms, and slipped between elbows. They knelt upon
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span>
+the cardinal's very feet, rapturously kissing his red-gloved
+hand and clasping to their pinafores and blouses the sacred
+trinkets he distributed. And he, patting the bobbing black
+pates, wherever he could get a chance, smiled on the little
+ones and forbade them not.</p>
+
+<p>The affection lavished on children in the household circle
+is often poetic and passionate. I observed one day a brusque
+young fellow of twenty-four, whom we had thought rather a
+hard, catch-penny sort of person, suddenly gather a four-year-old
+nephew to his heart and cover the dimpled face with kisses,
+while the look in his own black eyes was the look of a St.
+Anthony. I stood once in a crowded cathedral and lost all
+sense of the service in contemplation of an ugly manikin, with
+coarse features and receding forehead, who held a frail baby
+boy tight against his breast. This was a blue-eyed, fair-haired
+wean, with a serious, far-away expression, and from time to
+time, attracted by the gilt of the ceiling, he raised a tiny pink
+fore-finger and pointed upward, while the father's animal face,
+never turned away from the child, became transfigured with
+love and worship. He took the baby out, when it had fallen
+asleep upon his shoulder, and it was good to see that dense
+throng open and make a lane for him, every man, however
+brutal or frivolous his aspect, being careful not to jostle the
+drooping, golden head.</p>
+
+<p>But Spanish children, so caressed and so adored, are nevertheless
+modest in their bearing, and fall shyly back before a
+stranger. I remember a beaming grandfather displaying to us
+two blushing little men, bidding them open their eyes wide
+that we might contrast colors, turn back to back that we
+might measure heights, and in various ways put their small
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span>
+selves on show, all which they did in mute obedience, but at
+the word of release flew together, flung their arms about each
+other's necks, rolled under the nearest table, and curled up
+into the least possible bunch of bashful agony.</p>
+
+<p>The pictures, frescos, and carvings of Spanish churches
+often reflect the looks of Spanish childhood. The Holy Family
+gives a wide range of opportunity, especially in the ministering
+cherubs. There is a crucifix in one of the twenty-two
+aisle chapels of Toledo cathedral, where three broken-hearted
+mites of angels, just three crying babies, are piteously striving
+to draw out the nails from the Sufferer's hands and feet.
+Many of the saint-groups admit of child figures, too, as the
+St. Christopher, which almost invariably appears as a colossal
+nave painting, "the Goliath of frescos."</p>
+
+<p>It would be strange, indeed, if children were not beloved in
+the country of Murillo. Spain has let the most of his beggar-boy
+pictures go to foreign collections, but she has cherished
+his Holy Families and cherub-peopled Annunciations. Such
+ecstatic rogues as those Andalusian cherubs are! Their restless
+ringlets catch azure shadows from the Virgin's mantle;
+they perch tiptoe on the edges of her crescent moon; they
+hold up a mirror to her glory and peep over the frame to
+see themselves; they pelt St. Francis with roses; they play
+bo-beep from behind the fleecy folds of cloud; they try all
+manner of aerial gymnastics. But a charm transcending even
+theirs dwells in those baby Christs that almost spring from
+the Madonna's arms to ours, in those boy Christs that touch
+all boyhood with divinity. The son of the Jewish carpenter,
+happy in his father's workshop with bird and dog; the shepherd
+lad whose earnest eyes look toward his waiting flock;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span>
+the lovely playmates, radiant with innocent beauty, who bend
+together above the water of life&mdash;from these alone might
+Catholic Spain have learned the sacredness of childhood.
+But Spain first showed Murillo the vision that he rendered
+back to her.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XIII</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE YOLK OF THE SPANISH EGG</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">
+"From Madrid to Heaven, and in Heaven a little window for looking back to
+Madrid."&mdash;<i>Popular Saying.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">F</span>ew foreigners can understand the sentiment of Spaniards
+for their capital. Madrid is the crown city of
+Spain, not by manifest destiny, but by decree of Philip
+II, who, as his nature was, better loved the harsh Castilian
+steppe, baked by summer suns and chilled by treacherous winds,
+than the romantic sierras and gracious river valleys where
+earlier royal seats had been established. If in Madrid the
+desert blossoms like the rose, it is a leafless rose, for the city
+has no suburbs. It lacks both the charm of environment so
+potent in Granada and Seville and the charm of ancient story,
+which these share with those other bygone courts&mdash;Toledo,
+Valladolid, Valencia, Saragossa. It is not a vital organ of
+modern European civilization, like artistic Paris or strenuous
+London. And yet it is more cosmopolitan, and hence less
+distinctively Spanish than other cities of the Peninsula. It is
+devoted to the bull-fight and the lottery, abounds in beggars
+and prostitutes, does not take naturally to commerce, and is
+sadly behindhand with popular education. Yet Madrileños
+cannot be persuaded that the skies behold its equal, and even
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span>
+over the Anglo-Saxon stranger its fascination gradually
+steals.</p>
+
+<p>In the first place, the mirth of the home life beguiles the
+serious foreigner. Spanish households have a pleasantness
+quite their own. All the natural vivacity and kindliness of
+the people find free play at home, where servants sing and
+children prattle, ladies chatter and gentlemen jest, all in an
+atmosphere of ease, leisure, and spontaneous sociability. The
+father is not preoccupied with business, the mother has never
+dreamed of belonging to a woman's club, the children have
+little taste for reading, and few books to read. So talking is
+the order of the day, and, Sancho Panza! how they talk!
+Lingering half the morning over the <i>desayuno</i> of thick, cinnamon-flavored
+chocolate, into which are dipped strips of bread,
+two-thirds of the afternoon over the <i>almuerzo</i>, a substantial
+repast of meat and vegetables, fruit and <i>dulces</i>, and all the
+evening over the <i>comida</i>, where soup and the national dish of
+<i>puchero</i> are added to the noontide bill of fare, they chatter,
+chatter, chatter, like the teeth of Harry Gill.</p>
+
+<p>Still, as of old, Spaniards are temperate in food and drink.
+"It's as rare to see a Spaniard a drunkard as a German sober,"
+wrote Middleton three centuries ago. They use more water
+than wine, and although they have a grand appetite for sweets,
+they take them in comparatively simple forms. The national
+lack of enterprise is conspicuous even here, for dearly as the
+Spaniard dotes on chocolate and sugar, Madrid does not make
+her own chocolate creams, but imports them from Paris to
+sell, when they are too hard to eat, at a price too high to pay.</p>
+
+<p>But smoking and talking are indulgences which Madrileños
+carry to excess. Lounging on the balcony, a gayly painted
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span>
+case of paper cigarettes at hand, they will pass hours in bantering
+their wives, whom they worship much as they worship
+the images of Mary, delighting to dress them in fine clothes
+and glittering trinkets, and expecting in return, it is said,
+their pardon for a multitude of sins. And when my lord
+saunters forth to "rest" in one of the iron chairs that line
+the promenades, or in a café window, or at an open-air table
+before one of the frequent stalls of cooling beverages, the
+women of the house flock together in some airy corner, stitching
+away on their endless embroideries, and receiving, with
+"a million kisses" and a chorus of shrill welcomes, the
+mantilla-veiled ladies who come to call.</p>
+
+<p>If the afternoon is frying hot, it is just possible that the
+gallivanting don will bethink himself to send home a tray of
+<i>horchata</i>, a snowy, chilly, puckery refreshment, eaten by aid
+of wafers in the form of little tubes that look and taste much
+like wrapping paper. This treat gives fresh animation to the
+emulous tongues. The slightest neighborhood incident, as
+recounted in such a group, takes on a poetic vividness and a
+dramatic intensity, and when it is all told over again at the
+dinner-table, excitement waxes so high that long after the
+dishes and cloth have been removed the family may still be
+found seated around the board, flashing a thousand lights of
+suggestion and surmise on that dull bit of scandal. The
+husband cannot cease from discussion long enough to read the
+evening paper, nor the wife to send the little ones to bed, and
+midnight may find the three generations, from grandfather to
+four-year-old, still talking with might and main.</p>
+
+<p>Accustomed guests come at once to the dining room, ready
+to contribute their share to the lively clash of voices, or to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span>
+take part in one of the characteristic games of a Spanish family
+circle, as lottery. In this favorite pastime, victory, including
+a goodly handful of coppers, falls to him whose checked
+and numbered square of pasteboard is most quickly filled with
+beans. These are placed on the squares called by the bag-holder,
+who draws numbers haphazard from his sibylline sack.
+When the small hours come in, the company may adjourn to
+the sala for dancing and music, but conversation under cover
+of these gushes on more impetuously than ever&mdash;the Castilian
+art of arts.</p>
+
+<p>One of the chief graces of the <i>tertulias</i> consists in their
+informality&mdash;their frank simplicity. Even on a saint day&mdash;a
+day consecrated to the saint whose name some member of
+the family bears&mdash;while all the nearer friends drop in for
+congratulation, with perhaps a gift of flowers, in case of a
+lady, or sweetmeats for a child, the <i>tertulia</i> requires no further
+exercise of hospitality than an open door and a feast of words.
+There is more blithesomeness, for <i>hay santo en casa</i> (there is a
+saint in the house), but no more parade, with its preliminary
+fret and fuss.</p>
+
+<p>The streets of Madrid, too, have a curious fascination. In
+the morning hours there is the picturesque confusion of the
+market. The donkeys are unladen here, there, and everywhere,
+and the sidewalks and squares promptly dotted over
+with bright little heaps of delicious Toledo cherries, Valencian
+apricots, Murcian lemons, and all the greens of the season.
+The peasant women, squatted among their lettuces and cucumbers,
+seem much more interested in gossiping with their
+neighbors than in securing customers. Babies tumble about,
+crushing the pinks and roses, and cabmen good-naturedly pick
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span>
+their way as best they can among these various vegetable and
+human obstacles. Venders of books, too, like to pave the
+street with rows of open volumes, whose pages are soon
+dimmed with dust, and artisans, especially cobblers, set up
+their benches just outside their doors, and add the click of
+their hammers to the general din.</p>
+
+<p>In the early afternoon the shady side of the street is lined
+with the outstretched forms of workingmen, taking the indispensable
+siesta. Some rest their black pates on arm or folded
+jacket or bag of tools, but plenty of bronzed laborers slumber
+peacefully all prone on the hot paving, with not so much as a
+cabbage leaf for a pillow. Beggars lie along the stone benches
+of the <i>paseos</i> and parks, cabmen sleep on their cabs, porters
+over their thresholds, and I once turned away from a church
+I had come far to visit, not having the hardihood to waken
+the verger, who, keys in hand, was snoring like an organ,
+sprawled across half a dozen granite steps.</p>
+
+<p>As the cool of evening approaches, the overcrowded houses
+of the poor pour forth entire families into the street, where
+supper is cooked and eaten, and all manner of domestic operations
+carried on. Before every door is at least one black-eyed
+baby, in a little wooden cage something like a churn, with rim
+running under the armpits, so that the child, safe from straying
+or falling, may be left to his own devices. As darkness deepens,
+out come the stars and the <i>serenos</i>. These latter, in Madrid,
+no longer cry fair weather, but they hold the keys of the houses&mdash;an
+arrangement that I never learned to take seriously.</p>
+
+<p>Returning from visit or theatre in the evening, I found it
+difficult to say with requisite solemnity to the driver, "Would
+you be so kind as to shout for Celestino?" The driver
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span>
+promptly roars, "Celestino!" and twinkling lights come bobbing
+toward us from far and near, but no Celestino. "He's
+in the wineshop," suggests Isidro, whose charge begins three
+houses above. "He's eating iron," asserts Pedro, in the
+phrase describing those colloquies which a Spanish suitor carries
+on with his divinity through the grating. Then we all
+chorus, "Celestino!" and again, "Celestino!" and again,
+"Celestino!"</p>
+
+<p>At this a cloaked figure comes running across the square,
+waving a lantern over his head and vociferating jocund apologies:
+"I regret it extremely. I am stricken with sorrow.
+But at the first call I was wetting my lips at the fountain, and
+at the second I was pausing to exchange four words only with
+the lady of my soul, and at the third I said <i>Vamos!</i> and at the
+fourth&mdash;look you, I am here." So he unlocks the door and
+lights the stairway with his lantern until I have ascended the
+first flight, when he cheerily calls out, "<i>Adios!</i>" and shuts
+me into darkness which I am expected to illuminate for my
+further climb by striking matches.</p>
+
+<p>Madrid streets are by no means altogether delectable. Some
+are broad and well kept, but others are narrow, dirty, and malodorous.
+Worst of all, to my own thinking, is the Madrid
+stare, which, hardly less offensive than the Paris stare, is
+more universal. It is amusing to see how fearlessly a matron
+of eighteen sallies forth alone, while many Madrid spinsters
+of fifty would not go a block unattended. Nor are annoyances
+confined to staring. Even in reputable shops a woman
+soon learns to be on her guard, when her attention is especially
+called to book or picture, lest it prove "a silliness."</p>
+
+<p>Madrid is better than the cities of Andalusia, and worse
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span>
+than the cities of northern Spain, in its treatment of women.
+A young Spanish girl cannot walk alone, however sedately, in
+Seville, without a running fire of salutations&mdash;"Oh, the
+pretty face!" "What cheeks of rose!" "Blessed be thy
+mother!" "Give me a little smile!" And even in Madrid,
+Spanish girls of my acquaintance have broken their fans across
+the faces of men who tried to catch a kiss in passing.</p>
+
+<p>In Madrid, as almost everywhere in Spain, begging is a
+leading industry. So many beg from laziness or greed that
+it is easy to lose patience, the most essential part of a
+traveller's Spanish outfit. The ear is wearied by the everlasting
+drone and whine: "Oh, dear lady, for the love of God!
+All day my children have had no bread. Give me five
+<i>centimos</i>, only five <i>centimos</i>, and Heaven will pay you back.
+Lady! lady! lady! lady! Five <i>centimos</i>, in the name of all
+the saints!" And the eye is offended by the continual obtrusion
+of ulcers, cripplings, and deformities. No less than
+Seville and Granada, Madrid abounds with child beggars.
+There were two jolly little cripples on the Prado, who used
+to race, each on his one leg, to overtake me before I should
+reach the Museo steps. Another boy, on whose face I never
+saw a smile, sat at the corner of a street I daily passed, holding
+out two shapeless blocks of hands. By the gate of the
+Buen Retiro was stationed a blind man, with a girl wean on
+his knee. It was pathetic and amusing to see him feeding
+her the supper of bread and milk, for the spoon in his groping
+hand and the pout of her baby mouth often failed to make
+connection.</p>
+
+<p>The prevalence of eye disease in Spain is probably due to
+sun, to dust, and to generations of poverty. The pounding
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span>
+of a blind man's stick upon the pavement is one of the most
+common city sounds. The charitable may often be seen
+leading the blind across the streets. I tried it myself once
+with an imperious old woman, who clung to the curbstone
+some twenty minutes before she could muster courage for
+the plunge, lecturing me fluently all the time on the dangers
+of a rash disposition. There are, of course, many cases of
+fraud&mdash;cases where, when the day's work is over, the blind
+see and the lame walk. One of the popular <i>coplas</i> has its
+fling at these:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"The armless man has written a letter;</p>
+<p class="i1">The blind man finds the writing clear;</p>
+<p>The mute is reading it aloud,</p>
+<p class="i1">And the deaf man runs to hear."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Yet it is certain that among the beggars of Madrid is a
+heartrending amount of genuine misery. One day I passed
+an aged <i>ciego</i>, sitting on a doorstep, in the Alcalá, his white
+head bowed upon his breast in such utter weariness of dejection
+that I paused to find him a copper. But better charity
+than mine came to comfort that worn heart. A lame old
+peanut woman limped up to him, with the pity of the wretched
+for the wretched. She drew from her apron pocket a coin
+which I had rarely seen&mdash;<i>dos centimos</i>, two-fifths of a cent in
+value. An Austrian, who had lived in Spain four years, told
+me he had never once encountered that paltry piece of money.
+But she could not spare it all. "Hast thou one <i>centimo</i> for
+change, brother mine?" she asked. And the blind man's
+sensitive fingers actually found in his lean leather purse that
+tiny metal bit, which only the poorest of the poor ever see
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span>
+in circulation. He gravely kissed the coin she gave and made
+with it the sign of the cross on brow and breast, saying,
+"Blessed be this gift, my sister, which thy mercy has bestowed
+on a man of many troubles! May our Mother Mary keep
+for thee a thornless rose!"</p>
+
+<p>"And may God, who sends the cold according to our rags,
+lighten all thy griefs! Rest thou in peace," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Go thou with God," was his answer.</p>
+
+<p>Begging was a recognized and licensed industry in Madrid a
+year ago, though a bill of reform, whose fate I have failed to
+learn, was then under consideration. A mother would gather
+her brood about her and go forth for her day's work. They
+beg up and down their accustomed beat during the morning,
+eat as their gains allow, lie down in the dust together for the
+afternoon siesta, and rise to be diligent in business during the
+hours of fashionable promenade. They stop pedestrians, chase
+carriages, press into shops to torment the customers at the
+counter, and reach beseeching palms through the open windows
+of cafés. Gentlemen escorting ladies are their peculiar
+victims, for well they know that many a man who never gives
+under other circumstances is ashamed to seem ungenerous
+under survey of starry eyes.</p>
+
+<p>There is only one phrase that will shake off the professional
+beggar, "May God aid you!" On hearing this he makes it
+a point of religious honor to fall back. But as I could not
+use that formula without feeling myself something between a
+shirk and a hypocrite, I had to get on as best I could with the
+ineffectual, "Pardon me, my brother," to which should properly
+be added <i>Por Dios</i> (for God's sake).</p>
+
+<p>The Spanish mendicant knows nothing of the Anglo-Saxon
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span>
+feeling, "To beg I am ashamed." No Rare Ben Jonson
+has thundered in his ears:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Art thou a man? and sham'st thou not to beg?</p>
+<p>To practise such a servile kind of life?</p>
+<p>Why, were thy education ne'er so mean,</p>
+<p>Having thy limbs, a thousand fairer courses</p>
+<p>Offer themselves to thy election.</p>
+<p>Either the wars might still supply thy wants</p>
+<p>Or service of some virtuous gentleman,</p>
+<p>Or honest labor: nay, what can I name,</p>
+<p>But would become thee better than to beg?"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>From the Spanish point of view, on the contrary, it is
+manual labor, not beggary, that stains the escutcheon. A
+German lady of my acquaintance said to a strongly built man
+who was pleading for alms, "If you will carry my bag up
+these stairs, I will gladly pay you." Deeply insulted, he
+folded his cloak about him with hidalgo dignity, saying,
+"Madame, I am a beggar, not a laborer." Certain monasteries
+send out brothers, with plates and bags, on a daily begging
+round&mdash;brothers who may belong to the first families
+of Spain. The Church is often cited as indorsing mendicancy.
+Extolling almsgiving as a prime virtue, and itself maintaining
+a vast number of charitable institutions, it has not yet assimilated
+modern methods of relief.</p>
+
+<p>A favorite story for children, used as supplementary reading
+in the schools, is called "The Medal of the Virgin."
+This is, in fact, a Roman Catholic version of "Fortunatus's
+Purse." Its small heroine, Mary of the Angels, is an orphan,
+defrauded by a miser of her rich inheritance and treated with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span>
+barbarity by the uncle and aunt for whom she is an uncomplaining
+drudge. But once, in festive hour, they give her five
+<i>centimos</i>, which this generous innocent promptly bestows on
+a beggar woman, who holds a baby in her ragged arms. In
+return, the beggar gives the child a queer, old-fashioned mite
+of a coin, which turns out to have the Wall Street quality
+of heaving up a little mountain of gold above itself every hour
+or two.</p>
+
+<p>Mary of the Angels sallies forth for a tour of the country,
+pouring handfuls of gold into the laps of the beggars who sit
+at the church doors and city gates, until she is escorted wherever
+she goes by an army of the halt and blind singing her
+praises. At last, having given away such Pyrenees of gold that
+not a beggar could be found in all the land for a century to
+come, the footsore little philanthropist begs the Virgin to relieve
+her of the coin. The Madonna descends in a beam of
+light, the Christ Child smiling from her arms, yet in the radiant
+group Mary of the Angels recognizes the objects of her earliest
+charity. "For I," explains the Madonna, "am the holy beggar
+from heaven. The poor of the earth give me their tears
+and prayers, and for such alms do I hold out my hand to all
+the sorrowful."</p>
+
+<p>Yet the progressive element in Spain is all the more ashamed
+of the beggars because they are not ashamed of themselves, and
+a few years may see Madrid swept as clear of mendicancy as
+is San Sebastian to-day.</p>
+
+<p>Madrid is such an easy-going city that one hardly realizes
+at first how well it performs certain of its functions. Its
+water supply, for instance, is excellent, although when one
+sees the picturesque groups, with those same clay water-jars
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span>
+over which Rebecca smiled on Jacob, lingering about the gray
+stone fountains, one expects a patriarchal flavor in the liquid.
+The tramway service of Madrid, everything radiating from
+the <i>Puerta del Sol</i>, is most convenient, although electricity is a
+little slow in coming to the relief of horse-flesh. The shops,
+fairly well stocked, gild commerce with Spanish graces. You
+accept a chair, you pass the courtesies of the day, the gentleman
+who serves you, often with cigar in mouth, is seldom
+sure as to just what goods he has on hand, and is still more
+rarely dogmatic as to their price.</p>
+
+<p>The tug of war, however, comes in getting them delivered.
+Ten days before quitting Madrid I bought at one of the best
+of the <i>librerias</i> a number of books, including several illustrated
+catalogues of the Velázquez sala. These last were pretty
+trifles bound in white parchment, and as I intended them for
+gifts, I wanted fresh copies. "You wish them clean, all of
+them?" asked the proprietor, with an accent of surprise. I
+replied that I did, and would moreover be obliged if he could
+fit them with envelopes ready for mailing. Envelopes he had
+none, but he promised to tie them up in separate parcels.
+"And books and bill will come without fail this afternoon?"
+He looked pained to the heart. "This very morning, señora.
+You will find them awaiting you on your return." On the
+third day I sent a note, and on the fifth a boy arrived with
+the bulk of my purchase, but no catalogues nor bill. I explained
+to the lad, who smilingly besought me to give myself
+no concern, that I was on the point of leaving the city for
+good, and preferred not to go away in debt; but the days
+passed, and my inability to extort that reckoning became the
+jest of the household. At last, driven to desperate measures,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span>
+I went through noonday heat to the store, and actually found
+that procrastinating bookseller scattering cigar ashes over a
+little heap of catalogues, while he contemplated the pictures
+of each copy in turn. "Behold, señora," he exclaimed, as
+serenely as if not ten minutes had elapsed since our parting,
+"here I have for you immaculate booklets, stainless, faultless,
+such as will rejoice those fortunate friends to whom you have
+the amiability to send them. And I am this instant about to
+prepare them for the post with inviolate security."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_242" id="i_242"></a>
+<img src="images/i_242.jpg" width="416" height="622" alt="Christ of the Seven Words" />
+<p class="caption">"<span class="smcap">Christ of the Seven Words</span>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I expressed my obligations, but entreated him to draw up
+the account and let me settle it then and there, as I was
+within twenty-four hours of departure. "And in travelling,"
+I added apologetically, "it is difficult to send back money."
+At the obnoxious word he flung up hands and eyebrows.
+"Señora!" I left the shop, feeling vaguely that I had been
+guilty of a flagrant indelicacy, as well as black ingratitude.
+The catalogues, very slightly wrapped, arrived on the morrow,
+just in time to be thrust into my shawl strap, and I paid the
+bill amid the final agitation, so unfavorable to arithmetic, of
+porters and farewells.</p>
+
+<p>I had worse fortune in trying to subscribe for a certain
+popular periodical. I went to the office in the designated
+business hours, to find that, of the three men who should have
+been there, one had already gone, one had not arrived, and the
+third had "stepped out for a little rest." The janitor left
+in charge, a sympathetic person who could not read nor write,
+thought if I would return on Sunday at my luncheon hour,
+there might be somebody there qualified to receive my subscription
+and address, but, he sagely added, "in this world we
+are sure of nothing."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Madrid possesses the <i>Biblioteca Nacional</i> with valuable
+manuscripts and something like one million books, handsomely
+housed, where arrangements are made for over three
+hundred readers, but here, as in the other Spanish cities,
+public libraries in the American sense of libraries largely used
+by the general public are practically non-existent. The bookstores,
+too, except for the latest Spanish publications, leave
+much to be desired. As a rule, one can get only the most
+meagre information concerning texts and editions of the
+national classics, and the supply of new French novels or
+new German plays is far less complete than the stock of
+Paris gloves and German cutlery. This last, so canny have
+the honest Teutons grown, is usually engraved <i>Toledo</i>.</p>
+
+<p>In variety of weather, however, Madrid surpasses all expectations,
+furnishing the sultriest heat, the chilliest cold, the
+dustiest dust, and the most prodigious crashes of thunder and
+lumps of hail to be found in the meteorological market, and
+all these within a few hours of one another. But what with
+fans, <i>braseros</i>, balconies, <i>horchaterias</i>, an army of street waterers,
+and, most essential of all, an inexhaustible fund of good
+humor, the Madrileño contrives to live on friendly terms with
+his climate, although he dares not lay aside his cloak before
+"the fortieth of May."</p>
+
+<p>Apart from bull-fights and riots, those rages of excitement
+that seem to indicate a periodical fevering of the southern
+blood, the Madrileño takes his pleasures with a dignified simplicity.
+The city is exceedingly rich in open squares, well-shaded
+parks, and long reaches of green promenade, and here,
+with several dozen cigarettes and a few coppers for water and
+<i>agráz</i>, he wiles the hours away, chatting with friends and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span>
+admiring the ladies who roll past in spruce landaus. Over
+the gate of the social paradise of Madrid it must be written,
+"No admittance except in coaches," for a carriage seems
+essential to high life. Liveried coachman, rather than powdered
+butler, is the <i>sine qua non</i>. During the hot season this
+outdoor parade is in gay career at midnight, and whole families,
+babies and nurses included, may be seen gathered in
+festive knots around small refreshment tables, within sound
+of fountain spray and garden music. There are open-air
+concerts, and concerts in smoke-beclouded halls, greensward
+dances, and dances stepped on café tables among disordered
+clusters of bottles and glasses, and there is always the theatre,
+on which your Spaniard dotes.</p>
+
+<p>In the winter season there is opportunity to enjoy classic
+drama at the <i>Teatro Español</i>, where the Bernhardt of Spain,
+"La Guerrero," supported by her grandee husband, Mendoza,
+holds sway. When I saw them they were using short
+farces of Cervantes and Lope de Rueda for curtain raisers to
+a romantic drama by Tirso de Molina and a modern society
+play by Echegaray. I saw them, too, in Zorrilla's singular
+dramatic version of "Don Juan," the only play allowed in
+Spanish theatres on the night of All Saints.</p>
+
+<p>From March to November, however, the <i>Teatro Español</i> is
+closed, and there is little doing at the <i>Teatro Real</i>, an aristocratic
+temple of Italian opera. During the summer season
+the theatrical opportunities of Madrid are mainly limited to
+the popular <i>zarzuelas</i>, or operettas, four of which are usually
+given in an evening. Each theatre offers a new programme of
+these every night, but there is little of literary interest except,
+now and then, a taking trifle from the pen of Hartzenbusch
+or Echegaray.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Madrid theatre recks naught of early risers. The
+opening vaudeville is seldom under way before nine o'clock;
+the house is cleared after each performance, and often the
+encores and repetitions prolong a popular <i>zarzuela</i> quite beyond
+the hour limit. On the other hand, if the audience is small,
+the opening piece may be cut down to the merest outline. I
+remember one such occasion when the boxes were so empty
+and the farce so familiar that the orchestra fairly chaffed the
+actors off the stage. "Enough, enough! Thou mayst withdraw!"
+chanted the lyric lover to an intruding servant. "And
+so mayst thou," called out a voice from among the violins.
+"I've told my passion to the stars," continued the actor in
+his most mellifluous tenor, making the distant love of the
+Spanish stage to a lady who was smiling frankly on the audacious
+fiddler. "Poor stars!" interpolated this worthy so
+sympathetically that everybody laughed, the singer wound up
+his transports in the shortest possible order, and the remaining
+scenes were hardly more than pantomime. But such was
+the universal good nature and indifference to business exactitudes,
+that neither artists nor ticket-holders took this curtailment
+of their rights in umbrage.</p>
+
+<p>Among the excellences of Madrid must be counted her
+<i>museos</i>. The <i>Armería</i>, with its plumed and steel-clad warriors,
+all at tourney, is no mere lumber room of wicked old iron, as
+might have been expected, but a new canto of the "Faery
+Queene." The <i>Museo Naval</i> still smells of the boundless brine
+and Isles of Spicery. The <i>Museo Arqueológico Nacional</i> sweeps
+one, as on the magic carpet of Alhambra legend, through the
+entire tragedy of Spain. Here are the successive leaves of
+her strange picture-book&mdash;scratched, prehistoric flints, grass-woven
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span>
+Iberian sandals, rudely sculptured shapes in sandstone
+grasping wine cups that suggest whole Rubaiyats, Ph&oelig;nician
+anchors, bronze tables of Roman laws, Moorish arabesques,
+mediæval altars, modern wares and fineries, while barbaric
+spoils of Peruvian idols, Mexican feather-shields, sacrificial
+stones, and figures of forest lords speak to the imagination
+of that vast colonial empire which rose out of a dream to
+melt again like very dreamstuff, leaving "not a rack behind."
+These I have seen, but there are twice as many more Madrid
+museums which I had not time to see, and which, I am told,
+are no less rich in rarities and no less effective in pictorial
+beauty of arrangement.</p>
+
+<p>Of the art galleries, who can say enough? The supreme
+<i>Museo del Prado</i> so magnetizes pilgrim feet that it is hard to
+spare even a few hours for the <i>Académia de Bellas Artes</i>, with
+its grand Murillos and calm Zurbaráns, or the <i>Museo de Arte
+Moderno</i>, with its succession of canvases depicting scene upon
+scene of death, decay, murder, execution, starvation, battle,
+torture, frenzy. Whatever is most horrible in the story of
+the Peninsula&mdash;Juana the Mad staring at her husband's
+coffin, the bloody fall of the betrayed Torrijos and his band,
+the nobles of Portugal doing shuddering homage to the exhumed
+corpse of Inez de Castro, all that moves disgust, distress,
+dismay, seems flaunted here. The technique is French, but
+the subjects are Spanish. Many of the pictures have historical
+dignity and faithfulness, a few reproduce the modern national
+types, with a preference for bull-fighters and anarchists over
+fishermen and peasants, but one misses the spiritual beauty
+that went hand in hand with the spiritual terror of the older
+art. Do the Spanish painters of to-day derive only from
+Goya and Ribera?
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The old-time popular ceremonies are fast fading out of
+Europeanized Madrid. Even the Christmas mirth is waning,
+though still on <i>Noche Buena</i> the <i>Plaza Mayor</i> is close set with
+booths, and the Infanta Isabel, <i>muy Madrileña</i> that she is,
+makes a point of driving through and heaping her carriage
+with fairings. On Twelfth Night, too, there are a few small
+boys to be seen scampering about the streets, looking for the
+arrival of the Magi. Every year drops something of the
+mediæval heritage, and it has fallen to my lot to chronicle
+the passing of one of Madrid's most ancient and comfortable
+rites. The principal saint days of June, July, and August
+are preceded by <i>verbenas</i>, or evening fairs, chief among these
+being the <i>Verbena de San Juan</i>, on Midsummer Night. Many
+a baby has a grand frolic this evening, rocked back and forth
+on his mamma's knees, laughing eyes to laughing eyes, while
+she dips her head to his and tickles his little neck with kisses
+in time to the ancient ditty:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Recotín, recotón!</p>
+<p>The bells of St. John!</p>
+<p>There's a festival on.</p>
+<p>Recotín, recotín, recotón!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Far along the <i>Prado</i> gleam the busy fires over which are
+merrily bubbling the oiliest and brownest of <i>buñuelos</i>. The
+rows of lighted stalls, which have sprung up like mushrooms
+on either side of the promenade, present to the revelling,
+roving, shifting throng an amazing variety of tawdry
+knickknacks, ingeniously devised to meet no human want.
+As we drove slowly up and down, enjoying the scene, while
+beggars ran beside the carriage and hawkers darted out upon
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span>
+us with shrill cries, the "American girl" of our little group
+strove earnestly to find "something to buy."</p>
+
+<p>The most useful and convenient article for a traveller that
+could be discovered was a pasteboard bull's head on a long
+stick, but her chaperon, mindful of trunk dimensions, discouraged
+this purchase so effectively that Little Boston
+gracefully made herself amends by presenting us all with
+images of St. John. These scandalously represented the
+Baptist as a ballet girl in short cotton-wool skirts and gilt
+ribbons, waving a banner with one hand and leading a two-legged
+lamb with the other.</p>
+
+<p>As midnight drew near, carriages and foot-folk all pressed
+toward the stately Cybele fountain. It seems that there was
+once, in the <i>Puerta del Sol</i>, a magic spring whose waters,
+sprinkled at Midsummer Midnight on the most unlikely
+head, insured a wedding within the year. Trams and cabs,
+riots and bloodshed, drove the precious charm away to the <i>Prado</i>,
+even to this same Cybele fountain, which for many generations
+has continued to work bridal miracles. So recently as
+1898, as soon as the clock in the tower of the stately Bank
+of Spain struck midnight, with wedding cadences lingering in
+its peal, eager feet went splashing through the broad marble
+basin, and the enchanted water, thrown by handfuls and cupfuls
+far out over the crowd, sparkled even on bald pates and wigs.</p>
+
+<p>But alas for Madrid and her Midsummer Night's Dream!
+Some prosaic person got wet and tattled to the Alcalde. So
+when in natural agitation, on our only Verbena of St. John,
+we had persuaded the compassionate coachman to drive as
+close as close might be to the fountain, we encountered a
+bristling, unromantic railing, and outside of this a grim circle
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span>
+of police, frowning menace on that disconcerted host. Every
+moment more carriages, with veiled ladies and rheumatic gentlemen,
+dashed up, and the indignant crowd surged forward to
+the very buttons of authority. But midnight chimed in vain.
+One desperate graybeard vaulted over the railing, only to be
+hustled back with contumely. In general, however, that
+great press of people remained as meek as the lions of Cybele's
+chariot&mdash;a lack of spirit only to be accounted for by
+remembering that this midnight company was made up of the
+shamefaced and rejected, such an assemblage of blighted
+beings as, now that the last spell is snapped, earth will never
+see again. Even the decorous Cybele laughed in her marble
+sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>So passes the old Madrid; but there is a new Madrid, of
+which a word still waits to be said.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XIV</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">A STUDY IN CONTRASTS</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">
+"Here you have them, the two Spains, unlike, antagonistic, squared for conflict."<br />
+<span class="i10">&mdash;<i>Vida Nueva.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span>he world-old struggle between conservatism and
+advance is at its most dramatic point in Spain.
+The united forces of clericalism and militarism
+work for the continuance of ancient institutions, methods,
+ideas, and those leaders who do battle in the name of liberalism
+are too often nothing more than selfish politicians.
+But with all these odds against progress, it is making way.
+The mass of the people, kept so long in the darkness of
+ignorance and superstition, are looking toward the light.
+During my last week in Madrid I chanced upon two extreme
+expressions of these warring principles. The first was a
+royal and religious ceremony, the second a monster mass
+meeting,&mdash;the one intent on cherishing the past, the other
+clamoring at the gates of the future.</p>
+
+<p>I was looking over the <i>Imparcial</i> as I took my coffee one
+morning, when my eye fell on an item to the effect that there
+would be <i>capilla publica en Palacio</i> at ten o'clock. A traveller
+learns to jump at opportunity. Public service in the royal
+chapel promised to be of interest, and half-past nine found me
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span>
+waiting, with a miscellaneous company of gentles and tatterdemalions,
+natives and foreigners, on the palace side of the
+<i>Plaza de Armas</i>, the expectant throng streaming far down the
+paved and covered way. We were well marshalled by soldiers,
+who kept the crowd in form of a long troop, and banded
+this by military lines, with gleaming bayonets. These bands,
+but a few feet apart, were effectual in preventing crowding
+and disorder, and when at last the doors were thrown open,
+a double rank of soldiers closed in before the portal as often
+as the entering file showed any tendency to press and hurry,
+and thus passed us through by small divisions, so that there
+was no unseemly struggling on the succession of bare, plain
+stairways that led to the upper galleries.</p>
+
+<p>For "public service in the royal chapel," I was now to
+discover, does not mean that the public is admitted to the
+chapel itself. This is small, but very Spanish, with profusion
+of gilding, imposing altar, and frescoed saints, the characteristic
+splendor being tempered with a no less characteristic
+gloom, an effect enhanced by austere columns of gray marble.
+On days of public service, which are usually high feast days,
+three long galleries, forming three sides of a great quadrangle,
+are traversed by the court in passing from the royal rooms to
+the chapel door, and it is to these galleries only that the public
+is admitted. On such occasions the gallery walls are hung
+with richly colored tapestries from the magnificent collection
+of eight hundred pieces that enriches the royal <i>Tapiceria</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The instant I crossed the threshold these tapestries blazed
+upon the eye, so dazzling in their beauty that it was difficult
+to grasp the general situation. Civil Guards, in gala uniform,
+each armed with a pike taller than himself, were stationed at
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span>
+intervals of about six feet all along these tapestried walls,
+holding the carpeted way open for the passage of the royal
+and ecclesiastical party. The public hastened to fill in the
+spaces left between the guards, so that when the dignitaries
+paced the length of the three galleries, they walked between
+continuous human lines of mingled soldiery and spectators.
+We were of various ages, sizes, colors, and quite as picturesque,
+take it all in all, as the slowly stepping group on
+which our eyes were focussed.</p>
+
+<p>A division of the royal escort, marching with drawn swords,
+preceded the Queen Regent, a slight and elegant figure in
+white and heliotrope, her mantilla pinned with diamonds.
+She walked in royal solitude, with a bearing of majesty and
+grace, but her face had a hard and almost sour look, which of
+itself might account for her unpopularity. The King and the
+younger Infanta did not take part in the day's ceremony, but
+the Princess of Asturias followed her mother, a fresh-faced
+girl, charmingly dressed in white and blue, with pearls and
+turquoises. A respectful step or two in the rear of her niece,
+yet at her side rather than behind, came in rich green silk
+adorned with emeralds the stout, gray-puffed, easy-going Infanta
+Isabel, her broad, florid face beaming with affability.
+The guards had passed stern word down the line for all hats
+to be off, but there was no sign of greeting, so far as I saw,
+from the spectators to the royal party, except as now and then
+some happy Spaniard bowed him to the dust in acknowledgment
+of a nod, as familiar as a wink, from this popular
+Infanta.</p>
+
+<p>The occasion of this stately function was the elevation of
+the Papal Nuncio to the rank of cardinal. He passed in all
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span>
+priestly magnificence of vestments and jewels, his red hat
+borne before him on a cushion. He was attended by the
+chief clerics of Court and capital, but even these gorgeous
+personages were outshone by the military and naval officers,
+whose breasts were a mosaic of medals, and whose headgear
+such erections of vainglory as to hush the crested cockatoo
+with shame. The Gentlemen of the Palace, too, were such
+peacocks in their glittering coats of many colors, their plumes
+and sashes, gold lace and silver lace, that the plump Ladies in
+Waiting, for all their pride of velvet, satin, and brocade, looked
+like mere hens in the wake of strutting chanticleers.</p>
+
+<p>The American mind is ill prepared to do homage to the
+dress parades of European courts, and I laid by the memory
+to laugh over when I should have reached a place and hour
+where laughter would be inoffensive. As the Diplomatic
+Corps, in its varied costumes, came trooping on, twice a
+whisper ran along the gazing lines. "The Turk!" and the
+traditional enemy of Spain limped smilingly past, a bent,
+shrewd-faced old Mussulman, whose Oriental finery was
+topped by the red fez. "The Yankee!" and Spain's latest
+adversary strode by in the person of the newly arrived United
+States Minister, decorously arrayed in dress suit and a Catholic
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>The chapel doors closed on this haughty train, and we, the
+invited public, cheerily proceeded to pass a social hour or two
+in chat and promenade and in contemplation of the tapestries.
+Even the Civil Guards unbent, dancing their babies, lending
+their pikes to delighted urchins, and raising forbidden curtains
+to give their womenkind furtive peeps into the royal
+apartments. Most astonishing was the maltreatment of those
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span>
+priceless tapestries. Small boys, unrebuked, played at hide
+and seek under the heavy folds, old men traced the patterns
+with horny fingers, and the roughest fellows from the streets
+lounged stupidly against them, rubbing dirty-jacketed shoulders
+over the superb coloring. The most splendid series displayed
+was from a master-loom of the Netherlands, illustrating the
+conquest of Tunis by Charles V&mdash;marvellously vivid scenes,
+where one beholds the spread of mighty camps, the battle
+shock of great armies and navies, and, like shrill chords of pain
+in some wild harmony, the countless individual tragedies of
+war. The scimitar of the Turk flashes down on the Spanish
+neck, while the upturned eyes are still too fierce for terror;
+the turbaned chief leans from his gold-wrought saddle to scan
+the severed heads that two blood-stained sons of the prophet
+are emulously holding up to his survey, hoping to recognize
+in those ghastly faces enemies of rank; white-robed women
+on the strand, their little ones clinging to their knees, reach
+arms of helpless anguish toward the smitten galley of their
+lords, who are leaping into the waves for refuge from the
+Christian cannonade.</p>
+
+<p>I wondered how the Turkish Minister liked those tapestries,
+as his stooped-back Excellency passed in conference with a
+Chinese mandarin, who must have studied his costume from a
+teacup. For we had all been hustled into rows again to make
+that human lane through which the Royalties and the Reverends
+returned from their devotions. I was facing a quaint
+old tapestry of Christ enthroned in glory, with the beasts of
+the Apocalypse climbing over Him like pet kittens, and this
+so distracted my attention that I omitted to ask the amiable
+Infanta Isabel, who would, I am sure, have told anybody anything,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span>
+what had taken place. But I read it all in the <i>Epocha</i>
+that evening&mdash;how her Majesty with her own august hands
+had fitted the red hat to the Nuncio's tonsured head, and how
+the new-made cardinal had addressed her in a grateful oration,
+praising her virtues as manifested in "the double character of
+queen and mother, an example rich in those peculiar gifts by
+which your Royal Grace has won the veneration and love
+of the noble and chivalrous Spanish people, the especial
+affection of the Father of the Faithful, and the respect and
+sympathy of all the world." For her and for the youthful
+monarch of Spain he invoked the favor of Heaven, and uttered
+a fervent hope that the cup of bitterness which this most
+Catholic nation had bowed herself to drink might be blessed
+to her in a renewal of strength and a reconquest of her ancient
+preëminence among the peoples of the earth.</p>
+
+<p>The most significant expression of "new Spain" that I
+encountered in Madrid was a mass meeting&mdash;a rare and
+novel feature in Spanish public life. I blundered upon it as
+foolishly as one well could. The second day of July was the
+first anniversary of the founding of a daring Madrid weekly,
+the <i>Vida Nueva</i>, to which, attracted by its literary values, as
+well as its political courage, I had subscribed. The sheet is
+usually issued Sunday, but as I was on the point of going out
+one Saturday afternoon my <i>Vida Nueva</i> arrived, accompanied
+by two non-committal tickets. They gave entrance to the
+<i>Frontón Central</i>, "only that and nothing more." I called one
+of the pretty señoritas of the household into council, and she
+sagely decided that these were tickets to <i>pelota</i>, the Basque ball
+game, played in one or another of the various Madrid halls
+almost every summer afternoon. It seemed a little too considerate
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span>
+in the <i>Vida Nueva</i> to provide for the recreation of its
+subscribers, but I was growing accustomed to surprises of
+Spanish courtesy, and tucked the tickets away in a safe corner.
+The folded newspaper rustled and whispered, and finally fluttered
+to my feet, but I was eager to be off, and, after the
+blind fashion of mortals, put it by.</p>
+
+<p>It was my privilege to dine that day with two compatriots,
+and one of these, who knows and loves Spain
+better than many Spaniards do, began at once to tell me
+of that most unusual occurrence, a Madrid mass meeting, to
+take place this very evening. Of course we resolved to go,
+although my friend's husband was not in the city, and no
+other escort would countenance so harebrained an expedition.
+For the street to which this valiant lady led the way was
+choked with a flood of men surging toward an open door.
+The hall for the "meeting," a word which the Spanish language
+has fully adopted, was the <i>Frontón Central</i>, and admission
+was by ticket. Light dawned on my dim wits, and,
+while my two companions, with dignified and tranquil mien,
+stood themselves up against the outer wall, I besought a leisurely
+cabman, who insisted on waiting to pick up a little
+ragamuffin clamoring for a ride, to drive me in hot haste to
+my domicile. Here I searched out the tickets, put away only
+too carefully, and took a fleeting glance at the <i>Vida Nueva</i>,
+which urged all "men of heart" to celebrate the eve of its
+anniversary by their presence at this mass meeting.</p>
+
+<p>I had not realized that there were so many men of heart in
+Madrid. The street on my return was worse than before.
+The cabman objected strenuously to leaving us in these tempestuous
+surroundings, and, since there were only two tickets,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span>
+we two elders of the trio agreed that the American girl was all
+too young for such an escapade, and forthwith despatched her,
+under his fatherly care, to the hotel. Then came the tug of
+war. We saw men fighting fiercely about the door, we heard
+the loud bandying of angry words, we were warned again and
+again that we could never get through the jam, we were told
+that, tickets or no tickets, ladies would not, could not, and
+should not be admitted; it was darkly hinted that, before the
+evening was over, there would be wild and bloody work within
+those walls. But we noticed a few other women in the throng,
+and decided, from moment to moment, to wait a little longer,
+and see what happened next. Meanwhile, we were almost
+unjostled in the midst of that excited, struggling crowd, often
+catching the words: "Stand back there! Don't press on the
+ladies! Leave room!" And when it came to the final dash
+we had well-nigh a clear passage. Our tickets gave access
+only to the floor of a big, oblong hall, closely packed with a
+standing mass of some ten thousand men; but a debonair personage
+in authority conducted us, with more chivalry than
+justice, to the reserved boxes in the gallery, where we occupied
+perfect seats,&mdash;for which other people probably held
+tickets,&mdash;in the front row, overlooking all the house.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_259" id="i_259"></a>
+<img src="images/i_259.jpg" width="420" height="628" alt="Maria Santisima" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Maria Santisima</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>So much for Spanish indulgence to audacious womenfolk.
+But as to the meeting itself, what was it all about? In Spain
+one word suffices for an answer. <i>Montjuich</i> has become a
+Liberal rallying cry, although the movement is not bound in
+by party lines. It is the Dreyfus <i>affaire</i> in a Spanish edition.
+The <i>Castello de Montjuich</i> is a strong fortress, with large magazines
+and quarters for ten thousand soldiers. It is built on a
+commanding height, the old Mountain of the Jews, just outside
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span>
+Barcelona, and has again and again suffered bombardment
+and storm. But in this latest assault on Montjuich the
+weapons are words that burn and pens keener than swords.
+It was on the seventh of June, 1896, that the famous bomb
+was exploded in Barcelona. It was taken for an Anarchist
+outrage, and over two hundred men, including teachers, writers,
+and labor leaders, were arrested on suspicion. Nearly
+two months passed, and, despite the offer of tempting rewards,
+no trace of the culprits had been found. In the Fortress of
+Montjuich the guards deputed to watch the prisoners, acting
+more or less under superior authority, which itself may have
+been influenced by Jesuit suggestion, began on the fourth of
+August to inflict tortures upon the accused for the purpose of
+extracting evidence. The trials were by military procedure,
+power sat in the seat of justice, and innocent men, it is believed,
+were condemned on the strength of those forced confessions&mdash;mere
+assents, wrung from them by bodily agony,
+to whatever their guards might dictate. But many persisted
+in denial, and in course of time a number were released,
+maimed, in certain cases, for life. Others were shot, and a
+score still lay in prison. The fortress dungeons are deep and
+dark, but little by little the cries and groans of the "martyrs
+of Montjuich" penetrated the dull stone and sounded throughout
+Spain.</p>
+
+<p>On the fourteenth of May, last year, the <i>Vida Nueva</i>, this
+bold young periodical in the van of the Liberal cause, brought
+out an illustrated number devoted to "The Torments of Montjuich."
+Other periodicals sprang to its support and kept the
+Government busy with denunciations, while they vehemently
+called for a revision of the judicial process, with the hope of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span>
+releasing the men still under sentence and clearing the names
+of those who had perished. Mass meetings to urge such
+revision, which could be accorded only by vote of the Cortes,
+were held in Barcelona, Saragossa, Valencia, Santander, and
+other principal cities, all demanding revision in the sacred
+names of patriotism, humanity, and justice.</p>
+
+<p>Our Madrid mass meeting was of chief consequence in
+impressing the Government with the weight of popular
+opinion. The swaying multitude was called to order at
+quarter of ten by Señor Canalejas, who introduced a notable
+array of speakers. There were representatives of labor, of
+republicanism, of the press, a Catalan charged with a greeting
+from Barcelona, the champion of Spanish Socialism, Pablo
+Iglesias by name, and great men of the nation, Azcárate,
+Moret, and Salmeron. Spanish eloquence at its best thrills
+the blood to wine, and the swift succession of orators, fourteen
+all told, played on the vast audience like master artists
+on a murmurous organ. Yet there was no disorder. A generous
+and grateful hearing was accorded the Count of Las
+Almenas, who frankly declared himself a conservative in politics
+and an apostolic Roman Catholic in religion, but in the
+name of both these creeds a lover of justice and humanity.
+Since for these he ever held himself ready to do battle in the
+Cortes, he gave the meeting his pledge that he would support
+Azcárate in the motion for revision.</p>
+
+<p>But the wrath and grief of the audience could hardly be
+controlled when one of the released prisoners took the platform
+to recount the horrors of Montjuich. He told of
+dungeons with earth floor and one grated window, of savage
+guards determined to gain the crosses and pensions promised
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span>
+to those who should extract evidence. He told how the helpless
+captives, weakened by confinement, were tortured with
+cords, whips, sleeplessness, hunger, and thirst. Bound as they
+were, water was held before their parched mouths, with the
+sinister words, "Confess what we bid you, and you shall
+drink." When the famished men begged for food, they were
+answered with the lash, or, more fiendishly, with shreds of
+salt codfish, which increased their thirst a hundred fold. One
+man in his desperation sprang to the lamp and quaffed the
+dirty oil. They licked the moisture from their dungeon walls.
+They thrust white tongues through the grating to catch the
+drops of rain. Soon the guards proceeded to more violent
+torments, wrenching, burning, and probing the quivering flesh
+with a devilish ingenuity of torture, making a derisive sport
+of their atrocious work. One of the victims went mad while
+undergoing torture by compression of the head. Others, on
+hearing the coming steps of the guards, strove to escape their
+cruel hands by suicide. One drank a bowl of disinfectant
+found in his cell, one beat his forehead against the wall, one
+strove to drive a rusted nail into his heart.</p>
+
+<p>It was a frightful tale to hear. I looked across the hall to
+where a Spanish flag was hung. Yellow wax is funeral wax,
+and Alarcón, who sees in yellow a symbol of death and of
+decay, laments that it is the color of half the Spanish banner.
+"<i>Ay de la bandera española!</i>" But surely there is hope for
+Spain, while she has sons who, in grasp of a military tyranny
+which has rendered such crimes possible, contend in open
+field for the overthrow of the "black Spain" of the Inquisition,
+and still bear heart of hope for a white, regenerated Spain,
+where religion shall include the love of man.</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XV</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE PATRON SAINT OF MADRID</p>
+
+<div class="poem p2">
+<p class="o1">"Labré, cultivé, cogí</p>
+<p>Con piedad, con fe, con celo,</p>
+<p>Tierras, virtudes y cielo."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">S</span>pain seems actually skied over with the wings of
+guardian angels. The traditional tutelar of the nation,
+Santiago, counts for less, especially in the south and
+centre of the Peninsula, than might be expected, and was
+long since officially superseded by the Virgin; but cities, hamlets,
+families, individuals, all have their protecting saints. Some
+are martyrs, some bishops, some apostles, while Cordova
+rests secure beneath the shining plumes of the angel Raphael.
+Towns and townlets hold festivals for their celestial patrons,
+honoring them with fairs, horse-races, processions, dances,
+and whatsoever else may be appropriate to the season and
+characteristic of the locality, as ball games, bull-fights, or even
+a miracle play. Only Seville, mirth-loving Seville, who
+makes holiday on the slightest provocation, can never invite
+her two beautiful guardians, Santa Justa and Santa Rufina,
+to a jubilee. These holy maidens used to keep a pottery
+booth in Triana, now the gypsy quarter of the city, where,
+refusing to worship the Roman Venus, they won the crown
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span>
+of martyrdom. But their industrious habits cling to them
+still, and, by night and by day, while the centuries pass, they
+uphold the Giralda. An anointed vision, like Murillo's,
+may see their graceful forms hovering in mid-air on either
+side of the famous tower, which their strong brown arms hold
+firm even in tempests. If the ladies should let go, the
+Giralda would fall, and so the Sevillians are driven to the
+ungallant course of ignoring these really useful patrons and
+gadding off to adjacent towns whose saints are at leisure to be
+entertained.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_266" id="i_266"></a>
+<img src="images/i_266.jpg" width="393" height="622" alt="A Spanish Monk" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">A Spanish Monk</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>By the eternal contradiction that prevails in all things Spanish,
+it has come to pass that Madrid, the elegant capital and
+royal residence, is under the guardianship of a peasant saint.
+Here, in the eleventh century, Isidro was born, say the priests,
+of poor but Catholic parents. If not precisely a hewer of
+wood and a drawer of water, he was next door to that humble
+estate, being a digger of wells and cellars. He dug with such
+piety that God aided him by miracles, causing troublesome
+rocks to melt like wax at the touch of his spade, and springs
+of healing water to leap in the pits of his fashioning. He
+was a tiller of the ground, besides, a hireling farm servant,
+whose agricultural methods, though seemingly irregular, caused
+his master's granaries to overflow. As he went to the fields
+in the fresh spring mornings, the young Isidro would scatter
+handfuls of seed for the birds, saying, "Eat, God's little
+birds, for when our Lord looks forth in dawn, He looks upon
+us all." And as he dropped the wheat and barley in the furrows,
+ever he murmured, "This for God, and this for us;
+this for the birds, and this for the ants." "For the ants,
+too?" mockingly asked the rustics who planted beside him,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span>
+but Isidro steadfastly replied, "For the ants, too, since they
+are God's ants, and His royal bounty is for all His household."
+No wonder that the Almighty had Isidro's fields in
+special charge, sending sun and rain in due season that the
+harvest might suffice for every claimant. Such divine care
+was the more necessary, because this dreamy plough-boy spent
+most of his time in the churches, or on his knees in the
+shadow of the fruit trees, until his profane companions called
+him Lazybones.</p>
+
+<p>Isidro was no effective patron of Madrid as yet, but ran
+away from the Moors, when they invaded the city, finding
+farm service in a neighboring village. Here he married a
+maiden whose lovely soul, according to Lope de Vega, shone
+through her guileless face like a painting through its glass.
+She was no less devout than her husband, and went every
+evening to trim the altar in a lonely shrine of the Virgin.
+There was a stream to be crossed on the way, and in times
+of freshet Our Lady would appear in person and lead her by
+the hand over the tops of the waves. Such dainty stepping
+as it must have been! And once, when Isidro accompanied
+his wife, they both crossed in a boat suddenly improvised
+from her mantilla, which was not a thread the worse for the
+experience.</p>
+
+<p>The miracle-working power that developed in San Isidro
+was first exercised, as became a farmer, on suffering beasts
+and bad weather. His early influence over water grew more
+and more pronounced, rain refreshing the thirsty fields at his
+bidding, and medicinal fountains gushing from rocks at the
+stroke of his hoe. And when, one sunshiny morning, his
+wife let their baby boy slip from her arms into the depths of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span>
+the well and ran in distress to her husband, the saint, who for
+once was working on the farm, did not scold her, as the
+priestly authors seem to think would have been the natural
+course, but calmly said, "My sister, what is there to cry
+about?" And when, after a season of prayer, these exemplary
+parents proceeded to the well, its waters had risen to
+the brink, lifting the little John, as on a silver-tissue cushion,
+safe to their embrace. Isidro still retained his youthful peculiarities
+as a laborer, often praying all day long in the churches,
+while his yoke of oxen did the ploughing just as well without
+him. On one occasion, when he arrived too late for mass,
+the gates of heaven opened to his vision, as he knelt before
+the closed church door, and he was permitted to witness a
+celestial mass, where Christ was both priest and wafer, with
+choirs of angels chanting the holy service. Even his charities
+cost him little, for when the <i>olla</i> of vegetables and fish, that
+his wife made every Saturday for the poor, had all been eaten,
+a word from Isidro was enough to replenish the pot. If he
+emptied his sack of corn on the snow for a flock of hungry
+pigeons, the sack was full when he reached the mill;
+and when he threshed his master's wheat a second and a
+third time for the beggars, the very chaff turned into golden
+grain.</p>
+
+<p>His best quality, which almost makes his cult desirable in
+Spain, continued to be his love for animals, especially for
+birds. These sang their sweetest songs as he passed by, and
+often flew down from the poplar branches to brush their little
+wings against his blouse. And he, who had raised his
+master's daughter from the dead, did not disdain to work
+miracles of healing and of life on maltreated horses. Madrid
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span>
+would do well to give her guardian saint a season ticket to
+the bull-ring. Even the despised and cudgelled ass had a
+share in his protection. A sacrilegious wolf that thought to
+make a meal of Isidro's donkey, left to graze outside a church
+where the saint had gone to pray, was struck dead&mdash;perhaps
+by the donkey's heels. This kindly rustic, who had separated
+from his wife for greater sanctity, died on St. Andrew's Day
+and was buried in the cemetery of St. Andrew's Church in
+Madrid. Such sepulture was not to his liking, and twice his
+ghost appeared to ask that the body might be removed to the
+church, as was presently done, all the bells of St. Andrew's
+ringing of their own accord to give it welcome. The tomb
+immediately began to work miracles, and Isidro became such
+a favorite with the people that when, in 1212, a shepherd
+guided Alfonso VIII, lost with his vanguard in the wild
+passes of the Sierra Morena, to the great battle of Las Navas
+de Tolosa, where the armies of the Holy Cross broke forever
+the dominion of the Moors in Central Spain, nothing would
+do but the story that this shepherd was Isidro himself.
+Above the tomb of the saint a chapel was erected, perhaps
+by Alfonso, perhaps by <i>Isabel la Católica</i>. There seems to
+be a conflict of authorities here, but all testimonies agree that
+the angels used to come down and sing in the chapel Saturday
+afternoons.</p>
+
+<p>Madrid formally accepted Isidro as patron in the summer
+of 1232, when the labors of the husbandmen, on the point of
+perishing from drought, were saved by the body of the Holy
+Peasant, which, borne in priestly procession, called down
+floods of rain; but it was not until the times of Philip III,
+some four centuries later, that the actual canonization of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span>
+Isidro was granted by Rome. On May 15, 1620, the <i>Plaza
+Mayor</i>, that handsome square which has been the theatre of
+so many tournaments, executions, and <i>autos de fe</i>, the scene,
+two years later, of the beatification of Loyola, was inaugurated
+by a splendid festival in honor of San Isidro. From that day
+to this his worship has not waned. The miracle-working
+bones, which were carried to the bitter death-bed of Philip
+III, and comforted the passing of the great and generous
+spirit of Charles III, are still held to be more potent than
+physicians. Churches, oratories, and chapels have been built
+to him all over the Peninsula, the Franciscan Friars founded
+a convent of San Isidro in Rome, and his name is a part of
+our new geography lesson in the Antilles and the Philippines.
+Only four years ago his urn was borne in penitential procession
+through Madrid, with double supplications for rain on
+the parched country, and for a swift and happy ending of the
+Cuban war. All priestly, military, civic, and governmental
+pomp went to make up that stately escort, the ladies of
+Madrid showering the train as it passed beneath their balconies
+with flowers, poems, and <i>confetti</i>. The saint did
+what he could. The procession had been so skilfully timed
+that the rains began that very night, but the Cuban war was
+a matter out of his province. His dealings had always been
+with water, not with blood.</p>
+
+<p>There is significance in this devotion of proud Castile to
+San Isidro. Spain is essentially as democratic as America.
+Her proverbs tell the story: "Many a man gets to heaven in
+tow breeches;" "Do what your master bids you, and sit
+down with him at table;" "Nobody is born learned, and
+even bishops are made of men;" "Since I am a man I may
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span>
+come to be Pope;" "The corpse of the Pope takes no more
+ground than that of the sacristan;" "Every man is the son
+of his own works."</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Said the leaf to the flower: 'O fie!</p>
+<p class="i1">You put on airs indeed!</p>
+<p>But we sprang, both you and I,</p>
+<p class="i1">From the selfsame little brown seed.'"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Pedler, porter, beggar treat you as social equals and expect
+a full return of courtesy. It is told in Madrid how a great
+diplomatic personage not long ago was eating his picnic
+luncheon in a hired carriage. The driver, lunching also,
+leaned back from his seat, clinked glasses, and drank the
+gentleman's health. The dignitary glared with astonishment
+and wrath. "Man! I am the Imperial Ambassador of
+Nation So-and-So." "What of it?" returned the driver,
+taking another bite of his peppery Spanish sausage; "I am
+the Head Hostler of Stables Such-and-Such."</p>
+
+<p>Again and again, in recent times as in ancient, have the
+rank and file of the Spanish nation asserted their dignity of
+manhood. An edict of Charles III, forbidding the Madrileños
+to muffle themselves in their beloved long cloaks and hide
+their faces under their big slouch hats, raised a furious riot in
+the capital. Should a king dictate the fashion of a man's
+garments? And when the stupid weakness of Charles IV
+and the baseness of his son Fernando had delivered Spain over
+to Napoleon, when French armies held her fortresses, and
+Murat, with twenty-five thousand troops, ruled Madrid by
+logic of steel and iron, it was the Spanish people who, from
+Asturias to Andalusia, sprang to the defence of a country
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span>
+abandoned by princes, councils, and grandees. The Spanish
+people, not the Spanish nobles, preserved the independence of
+the nation and actually broke the career of the Corsican conqueror.
+The Italian king, Amadeo, so much better than his
+fortunes, was welcomed at Valencia in 1871 with simple
+verses, spoken by a child, that breathe even from their opening
+stanza this native spirit of democracy:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"The High Lord of the Heavens</p>
+<p class="i1">Created men one day,</p>
+<p>All mortal and all equal,</p>
+<p class="i1">All shapen out of clay;</p>
+<p>For God recked not of nations,</p>
+<p class="i1">Of white and black and brown,</p>
+<p>But on His human children</p>
+<p class="i1">Impartially looked down."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>It is not then so strange as it appears at first hearing that
+a Piers Plowman should be patron of Madrid.</p>
+
+<p>From Alfonso VIII to Alfonso XIII, a matter of some
+seven centuries, Isidro has been in high repute with royalty.
+The "Catholic Kings" made him rich gifts; Philip II,
+bigot of bigots, cherished an especial veneration for the
+ghostly protector who had brought his delicate childhood
+safely through smallpox and epileptic seizures; the passion-wasted
+Philip IV did him public homage; Charles the
+Bewitched made a solemn progress to his shrine to thank him
+for recovery from illness; even the bright young Bourbon,
+Philip V, had scarcely arrived in Madrid before he hastened
+to worship the efficacious body of San Isidro. The urn has
+been opened at intervals to give their successive Majesties of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span>
+Spain the grewsome joy of gazing on the bones, and it has
+been the peculiar privilege of Spanish queens, on such occasions,
+to renew the costly cerements. The devotion of the
+present regent to these relics keeps pace with that of her
+predecessors.</p>
+
+<p>Where royalty leads, aristocracy is swift to follow, and
+Isidro has a gorgeous wardrobe of embroidered standards,
+palls, canopies, burial cloths, and everything that a skeleton
+could require, but "for a' that and a' that" the laboring
+people of Castile never forget that the Canonized Farmer
+especially belongs to them. His fortnight-long <i>fiesta</i> is the
+May outing of the rustic population all about Madrid.</p>
+
+<p>We will start on this pilgrimage from the <i>Puerta del Sol</i>,
+because everything in Madrid starts from the <i>Puerta del Sol</i>.
+From this great open parallelogram in the centre of the city,
+surrounded by lofty hotels and Government buildings,
+bordered with shops and cafés, brightened with fountains,
+thronged with trams, carriages, people, always humming with
+voices, always surging with movement, run ten of the principal
+streets of the capital. The <i>Alcalá</i>, most fashionable of
+promenades, and <i>San Jerónimo</i>, beloved of wealthy shoppers,
+conduct to the noble reaches of parks and <i>paseos</i> in the east;
+the handsome <i>Arenal</i> and historic <i>Calle Mayor</i> lead west to
+the royal palace, with its extensive gardens known as the
+<i>Campo del Moro</i>; <i>Montera</i>, with two less elegant avenues,
+points to the north, where one may find the university, the
+Protestant churches, and the tragic site of the <i>Quemadero</i>; and
+three corresponding streets open the way to the south, with
+its factories, hospitals, old churches, and world-famed <i>Rastro</i>,
+or rag fair.
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_275" id="i_275"></a>
+<img src="images/i_275.jpg" width="557" height="413" alt="A Seville Street" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">A Seville Street</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span>
+But during the early days of the <i>Romeria</i>, which begins on
+May 15, all the throbbing tide of life pours toward the
+southwest, for the goal of the pilgrimage, the Hermitage of
+San Isidro, built over one of his miraculous wells by the
+empress of Charles I, in gratitude for a cure experienced by
+her august husband after drinking of the waters, stands on the
+farther bank of the Manzanares. The trams, literally heaped
+with clinging humanity, pass out by the <i>Calle Mayor</i> and
+cross the <i>Plaza Mayor</i>. The innumerable 'buses and cabs
+make a shorter cut, but all varieties of vehicle are soon
+wedged together in the broad thoroughfare of Toledo. Here
+we pass the big granite church of San Isidro el Real, once in
+possession of the Jesuits, but on their expulsion from Spain,
+in 1767, consecrated to the Santo Labrador. His body was
+borne thither, with all solemn ceremonial, from the chapel in
+St. Andrew's; and his poor wife, who had also been sainted,
+by a courteous Spanish afterthought, under the attractive title
+of <i>Maria de la Cabeza</i>, Mary of the Head, was allowed to lay
+her celebrated skull beneath the same roof,&mdash;a greater liberty
+than he had permitted her during the latter half of their earthly
+lives. The Madrid Cathedral, hard by the royal palace, is
+still in slow process of building, the work being hampered and
+delayed for lack of funds, although her Majesty sets a devout
+example by contributing $300 a month. Meanwhile, San
+Isidro el Real serves as the cathedral church of the diocese.</p>
+
+<p>This <i>Calle de Toledo</i>, where Isidro dug several of his medicinal
+wells, is always gay with arcades and booths and drapers'
+shops; but now, during the <i>Romeria</i>, it is a veritable curbstone
+market, where oranges, sashes, brooms, mantles, picture frames,
+saucepans, fiddles, mantillas, china, jackets, umbrellas, fans,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span>
+dolls, bird-cages, paintings of saints, and photographs of ballet
+dancers are all cried and exhibited, hawked and held under
+nose, in one continuous tumult.</p>
+
+<p>As we approach the bare mass of masonry known as the
+Gate of Toledo, we cast, for all our festival mood, a clouded
+glance in the direction of the barbarous slaughter-houses of
+Madrid. Here the stronger beasts are blinded by the thrust
+of darts, and also hamstrung, to render them helpless under
+the deliberate butchery of their tormentors, who often amuse
+themselves by a little bull-fight practice with the agonized
+creatures before striking the final blow&mdash;a place of such atrocious
+cruelties that even the seasoned nerves of an Austrian
+surgeon recently visiting it gave way, and he fainted as he
+looked. There is work for San Isidro here.</p>
+
+<p>The jam of equipages on the Bridge of Toledo gives us
+abundant time to observe the statue of the Holy Peasant, in a
+stone niche, lifting his baby from the well, and the companion
+statue of Mary of the Skull. And there is the Manzanares
+to look at, that sandy channel along which dribble a few
+threads of water&mdash;threads that the washerwomen of Madrid
+seek after like veins of silver. Small boys are wading from
+one bank to the other, hardly troubling themselves to roll up
+their trousers. It is said that Philip IV, surveying his pompous
+bridge across the Manzanares, was wickedly advised by
+one of his courtiers to sell the bridge or else buy a river. It
+is a curious bit of irony to hold the festival of the Water
+Saint beside a river bed almost as dry as his bones.</p>
+
+<p>But the crowd has now become so mad and merry that it
+distracts attention alike from architecture and physical geography.
+Will all the dexterity of foot-police and mounted
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span>
+guards ever succeed in disentangling this snarl of equipages?
+Who cares? Everybody is laughing. Everybody, too, is
+helping, so far as lungs can help. A daring Aragonese, with
+a blue and white checked handkerchief knotted about his
+head and a scarlet blanket over his shoulders, tries to dash
+across the bridge and rejoin his screaming children. He
+stumbles before a jovial omnibus, whose four horses, adorned
+with beribboned straw hats, gaze coyly out from under the
+torn brims like so many metamorphosed Maud Mullers. A
+distant guard roars a warning. The crowd bellows in sympathy.
+A liveried coachman rears his spirited pair of bays.
+A cock-hatted gypsy, with half his tribe packed into his cart,
+tries to follow suit, and tugs savagely at the stubborn mouths
+of mules whose heads are liberally festooned with red and
+green tassels. In front of these safely passes the Aragonese,
+only to bring up against the great wheel of a picnic wagon,
+whose occupants, mostly señoritas in the sunrise Philippine
+shawls, thrust out their pretty heads, all crowned with flowers
+instead of hats, and rain down saucy salutations. The crowd
+chimes in with every variety of voluble impudence. He catches
+at the long gold fringe of the nearest shawl, saves himself from
+falling at the price of a shriek of wrath from the señorita,
+plunges desperately on, is struck by a cab horse, the poor
+beast being half blinded by the tickling plumes that droop
+over eyes and nose, and amid volleys of ridicule and encouragement
+reels to the shelter of the sidewalk. But a very
+precarious shelter it is, so narrow that the lads are positively
+obliged to fling their arms about the lasses to hold the fluttering
+skirts back from peril of wheels and hoofs. Everywhere
+what audacity, what fun, what color, and what noise! Troops
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span>
+on troops of foot travellers, usually in family groups, and often
+stained with the dust of an all-day tramp! The wives generally
+carry the hampers, and the husbands sometimes shoulder
+the babies. Squads of young fellows frolic along, each with
+his supply of provisions tied up in a gaudy handkerchief.
+The closer the nudging the better they like it; a slap from a
+girlish hand is almost as good as a kiss. Isidro knew all
+about it in his day. But this clownish jollity grows rougher
+and rougher, and the crack and sting from a coachman's whip
+tempt a reply with the pilgrim's staff. The guards, hoarse
+and purple, wipe their dripping brows. It is early afternoon
+yet, too, and the larking and license are as nothing to what
+may be expected before midnight.</p>
+
+<p>It is a little better when, at last, the bridge is left behind.
+Turning to the northwest, the dusty road runs on beside the
+river and beneath the bluffs lined with rowdyish folk, who
+shout down greetings to their acquaintances and compliments
+to the ladies, toward the <i>ermita</i>. A certain Juan de Vargas,
+riding over this same route one day, lifted his eyes to the
+uplands to see how his farm-hand, Isidro, was getting on with
+the ploughing. Blessed Isidro! Before and after went two
+stalwart young angels, still in shining white, each driving a
+celestial yoke of oxen.</p>
+
+<p>Times have changed. The sight that greets our eyes is
+emphatically human&mdash;a great country fair, a pandemonium
+of rude, good-natured revelry. The beggars who have been
+chasing the carriage, the cripples outstripping the rest, thrust
+withered arms, ulcerous legs, and all manner of profitable deformities
+into our very faces as we alight, even clutching at the
+coins with which we pay the coachman. We make our way,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span>
+as best we can in the rough press, between two rows of booths
+toward the church. There is the usual Spanish variety of
+penny toys on sale&mdash;balls, baskets, whips, kites, jumping-jacks,
+balloons, and every other conceivable trifle admitting
+of the colors red and yellow. But the great traffic is in those
+articles especially consecrate to San Isidro&mdash;frosted cakes,
+probably made after the recipe of <i>Maria de la Cabeza</i>, clay
+vessels of every shape and size for carrying away the healing
+waters, and, first and foremost, <i>pitos</i>, or whistles. The priests
+would have us believe that San Isidro was forever droning
+psalms, but ploughmen know a ploughman's music, and the
+sacred whistles lead the sales in the <i>Romeria</i>. It is impiety
+not to purchase at least one of these, and the more devout
+you are, the more <i>pitos</i> will you buy. The Infanta Isabel,
+aunt of his Little Majesty, fills her emblazoned coach every
+year with these shrill pipes in all their variety of queer disguises&mdash;fans,
+birds, puffing grotesques, and, above all, paper
+flowers. He is no lover worth the having who does not bring
+his sweetheart a San Isidro rose with a <i>pito</i> for a stem. The
+ear-torture of an immense fair-ground delighting in an infinity
+of whistles may be left to the sympathetic imagination.
+We cling to the memory of Burns, and bear for his bonny
+sake what we could hardly endure for any such sham laborer
+as Isidro.</p>
+
+<p>The hearing is not the only sense to do penance in this
+pilgrimage. The Water Saint has never thought to work
+a miracle of cleanliness upon his peasant votaries, and the
+smell that bursts out upon us from the opening doors of the
+church might put us to flight, were flight still possible. But,
+caught in the human current, we are swept on into the gilded,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span>
+candle-lighted, foul-aired oratory, with its effigies of Santo
+Labrador and Santa Labradora. All day long the imperious
+ringing of the bell at the shortest of intervals has been calling
+one company of the faithful after another up the bare brown
+hill to that unventilated temple. When there is no squeezing
+room left for even a dwarf from the pygmy show, the doors
+are closed, the bell is silenced, and the rustics are marshalled
+in rapid procession before the altar, where they pay a penny
+each, receive a cheap print of San Isidro, and kiss the mysterious,
+glass-cased relic which a businesslike young ecclesiastic
+touches hastily to their lips. The frank sound of the kissing
+within is accompanied by the tooting of <i>pitos</i> without. We
+stand at one side, looking at the priests and wondering how
+their consciences are put together, but half ashamed to watch
+with heretic eyes the tears of joy, the fervors of prayer, the
+ecstasies of faith, that are to be seen in many of these simple,
+passionate faces filing by. Here comes a little girl treading
+as if on air and clasping her picture of the saint to her lips,
+brows, and heart with such abandon of delighted adoration
+as one must go to Spain to see.</p>
+
+<p>Released from the Hermitage, we fill our lungs with sweeter
+breath, give skirts a vigorous shake in the vain hope that we
+may not carry away too many deserters from the insect retinue
+of our recent associates, and turn down toward the river.
+Our short cut leads us among heaps and heaps of bales packed
+with the graceful clay jars. How many an anxious mother
+will trudge her weary miles across this dry Castilian steppe,
+bearing with all her other burdens a <i>botija</i> of the healing water
+to some little sufferer at home! Wonderful water, warranted
+to make whole the lame, the blind, the deaf, the dumb, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span>
+put to rout all ills that flesh is heir to, especially fevers, tumors,
+erysipelas, paralysis, and consumption! It is as potent to-day
+as when it first gushed from the earth at the bidding of the
+young Isidro, for did it not work a notable cure, as late
+as 1884, on the Infanta Doña Paz de Bourbon, sister of
+Alphonso XII?</p>
+
+<p>We linger a few minutes at the edge of the bluff, looking
+down upon the animated scene below, from which rises the
+hum as of an exaggerated beehive. The long green stretch
+of valley meadow is one wave of restless color. Thickly
+dotted with booths for refreshment, for sale of the San Isidro
+wares, for penny shows, farces, wax figures, and all manner
+of cheap entertainments, it still has space for dancers, wrestlers,
+<i>pelota</i> players, for swings, stilts, and merry-go-rounds,
+and, above all, for the multitude of promenaders, sleepers, and
+feasters. The bright May sunshine gleams and dazzles on
+the soldiers' helmets, flashes out all the hues and tints of the
+varied costumes, and even lends a grace to the brown patches
+on the browner tents. The tossing of limbs in the wild, free
+dances, the flutter of the red and yellow flags, the picturesque
+grouping on the grass of families, complete to dog and donkey,
+around the platter of homely fare and the skin bottle of wine&mdash;all
+this makes a panorama on which one would gladly gaze
+for hours.</p>
+
+<p>Going down into the heart of the festivity, the interest still
+grows. We enter one of the cleanest <i>cantinas</i> and invest a
+<i>peseta</i> in a bottle of sarsaparilla, not for our own drinking,
+having seen the water in which the glasses are washed, but
+as a protection against the horde of beggars and the gypsy
+fortune tellers. It works like a charm. As we respond to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span>
+the whining appeals with the civilities of social greeting and
+an offered glass of our innocent beverage, the ragged petitioners
+are straightway transformed into ladies and gentlemen.
+They draw themselves erect, quaff the cup to our
+long life and happiness, discuss in self-respecting tones the
+weather and the fête, and then, without another hint of
+solicitation, bid us courteous farewells. We mean to take
+out a patent on the sarsaparilla treatment of Spanish
+mendicancy.</p>
+
+<p>The tent itself is, like the rest, shabby and tumbledown,
+furnished with rough tables and benches, where cadets are
+playing dominos as they drink, and two country sweethearts
+are delectably eating what appears to be a sardine omelette
+off the same cracked plate. A clumsy lantern hangs overhead,
+racks of bottles are fastened up along the canvas walls, and
+all about the trampled earth floor stand water jars, great bowls
+of greens, and baskets of the crusty Spanish bread. A pale
+young Madrileño drops in for a glass of wine, but before
+indulging has the shy little rustic who serves him take a sip,
+languidly begging her, "Do me the favor to sweeten my
+drink." The yellow cigarette-stains show on his white
+fingers as he pats her plump bare arm. The child, for she
+is scarcely more, and as brown as an acorn, responds to
+these amenities by giving the smiling exquisite alternate bites
+of her hunk of goat's-milk cheese, while her mother keeps a
+sharp eye on them both.</p>
+
+<p>Comedy and tragedy are busy all about us. A newly
+arrived family plods wearily by in ludicrous procession,
+headed by a tall father carrying a baby and closed by a short
+child carrying a cat. A showy man of middle age, playing
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span>
+the gallant to an overdressed brunette, is suddenly confronted
+by his furious wife in boy's attire, so unluckily well disguised
+that, before recognizing her, he has replied to her
+rush of invective with a blow which bids fair to make one of
+her eyes, at least, blacker than those of her rival. Traditional
+ballads are trolled, popular songs are echoed from group
+to group, and, despite bad odors, fleas, and whistles, we are
+reluctant to leave. But the afternoon grows late, the
+<i>Arganda</i> and <i>Valdepeñas</i> are beginning to burn in the
+southern blood, an occasional flourish of cudgels or of fists
+sends the police scurrying across the field, and, being nothing
+if not discreet, we pay our parting respects to San Isidro.</p>
+
+<p>Coming home by way of the <i>Prado</i> and passing the proud
+shaft of yellow-brown granite that towers far above its
+enclosing cypress trees, as glory above death, we are reminded
+that this gala month has brought another <i>fiesta</i> to
+Madrid. Every second of May the capital commemorates
+with solemn masses, with stately civic processions, and a
+magnificent military review, the patriots who fell fighting in
+the streets on that terrible Monday of 1808, <i>El Dos de Mayo</i>,
+which brought to pass the war of independence. One may
+read of that fierce carnage in the vivid pages of Galdós or
+behold it in the lurid paintings of Goya. To see once is to
+see forever that line of French soldiery, with steady musket
+at shoulder, but with eyes bent on the ground, while they
+shoot down squad after squad of their defenceless victims.
+In pools of blood lie the contorted bodies, with heads and
+breasts horribly torn by crimson wounds, while of those who
+wait their turn to fall beside them some cover the eyes, one
+stupidly gnaws his hands, one kneels and wildly peers from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span>
+under his shaggy hair into the very muzzle of the gun before
+him, one flings back his head with a savage grin, half of
+fright and half of courage, one desperately strips bare his
+breast and in agony of horror glares upon the guns, but the
+most are crouching, shuddering, sinking&mdash;and all only an item
+in the awful cost that the Spanish people have paid for
+Spanish liberties. The celebration of 1899 was no less
+brilliant than usual, although many of the Madrid papers
+spoke bitterly of the shadow that the disastrous first of May
+must henceforth cast on the glorious Second. It is indeed
+gall and wormwood to all Spain that the Manila defeat so
+nearly coincides with the proudest day in Spanish annals.</p>
+
+<p>The saint of <i>El Dos de Mayo</i> is Saint Revolution, as democratic
+in one way as Saint Agriculture in another. When
+these two patrons of Madrid understand how to work in
+fellowship, when there comes a Government in Spain that
+cares chiefly to promote the welfare of the laboring people,
+the world may discover anew the vitality and noble quality
+of this long-suffering nation.</p>
+
+<p>We saw the <i>Romeria</i> once more, driving through late in
+the evening, when the closed booths glimmered white on the
+silent meadow.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is all a pack of lies," said a thoughtful Catholic,
+"but what is one to do? A man cannot believe in religion&mdash;and
+yet how to live without it? The more I stay away from
+mass the more I want and need it. Think of the comfort
+these peasants take with their San Isidro!"</p>
+
+<p>The moonlight shone serene and beautiful on those patched,
+shabby tents, transforming them to silver.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XVI</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE FUNERAL OF CASTELAR</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">
+"The death of the Republic will be, for you, for us, and for all, the death of liberty.
+The death of liberty will be the death of the Republic, and as liberty is the only
+thing in the world that rises from the dead, with liberty shall rise again, in good time,
+the Republic."&mdash;<span class="smcap">Emilio Castelar</span>: <i>Inaugural Address</i>, 1873.</p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span>he present state of Spanish politics was amusingly
+expounded to me by a spirited young philosopher
+of Cadiz.</p>
+
+<p>"In the north," he said, "the prevailing sentiment is for
+Don Carlos. Nocedal is doing all he can to fan it in Andalusia,
+but it finds its natural home in the northern provinces.
+To be sure, there is San Sebastian, where the Court summers,
+which consequently upholds the Queen, and there are Republican
+groups; but the north of Spain, broadly speaking, is
+Carlist. The centre favors the reigning family. Possession
+is a strong argument, and the royal forces hold Madrid.
+Barcelona is Republican. Those Catalans are always thirsty
+for a fight. But the middle tract of Spain, as a whole, accepts
+the existing monarchy. Castilians are too gallant to strike
+against a woman and a child. The south is Republican.
+For the best part of the century Cadiz and Malaga have stood
+for revolution. Where was the army of Isabel II defeated?
+And why has the Queen never seen the Alhambra?
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But, let me tell you, these Carlists, these Royalists, these
+Republicans are all fools. If there is anything hopeless in this
+world, it's Spanish politics. All the uproar of the Revolution
+ended in murdering our best man and driving out our best
+king. For myself, I mean to work hard and marry soon, and
+have a little Spain in my own house that shall express my
+own convictions. My children shall be good Catholics, but
+not superstitious bigots. They shall be well educated, if I
+have to send them to France or England for it. They shall
+be disciplined, but under the law of liberty. And with that
+I propose to be content. All my politics are to be kept under
+my own roof, where I can work my ideas into permanent
+form. I am sick of the way in which Spain boils with ideas
+that only destroy one another."</p>
+
+<p>This Sir Oracle was two-and-twenty, with the prettiest
+of girlish photographs in his vest pocket, and the smallest of
+savings in the bank, but I remembered his words in the days
+of mourning for Emilio Castelar.</p>
+
+<p>The illustrious tribune, heavy-hearted with the troubles of
+his country, had gone to the home of friends, at a village in
+sunny Murcia, for the rest and comfort that nature always
+gave him. His almost boyish optimism, "<i>niño grande y grande
+niño</i>" that he was, had kept him assured of peace even after
+the destruction of the <i>Maine</i>, and assured of victory even
+after the battle of Manila. Hence the pressure of fact told
+on him all the more cruelly. "I die a victim of Spain's
+agony," he wrote in a personal letter shortly before the end,
+and his last article for publication, finished on the day of his
+death, a gloomy discussion of the outlook for the Peace Conference,
+contains bitter references to the national disasters and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span>
+to the ravages of the "criminal troop of pirates in the
+Philippines."</p>
+
+<p>He died on Thursday, the twenty-fifth of May, within hearing
+of the Mediterranean waves he loved so well, with tender
+faces bent over him, and the crucifix at his lips. The news
+of his death aroused this grief-weary nation to a fresh outburst
+of sorrow. Some lamented him as one of the chief
+orators of modern Europe, recalling his eloquence in the
+tempestuous times of the Revolution, when he "intoned
+mighty hymns in praise of liberty, democracy, and the sacred
+Fatherland!" Some mourned the patriot, pointing proudly to
+the honorable poverty in which this holder of many offices, at
+one time almost absolute dictator, had lived and died. Some
+wept for the cordial, generous, noble-hearted man, the joy of
+his friends and idol of his household. His political sympathizers
+bewailed the loss of the Spanish apostle of democracy,
+the lifelong champion of liberty. And many not of his following
+nor of his faith felt that a towering national figure had
+disappeared and another glory of Spain vanished away.</p>
+
+<p>The first wreath received was from a Republican club that
+sent the pansies of memory. Among the five hundred telegrams
+and cablegrams that arrived within a few hours at the
+country-seat where he had died was one from over seas, which
+read: "To Castelar: In thy death it seems as if we had lost
+the last treasure left to us, the voice of the Spanish race. In
+thy death Spain has become mute. Yet let me believe that
+thou respondest, 'She will speak again.'"</p>
+
+<p>The coming of the body to the capital was a triumphal
+progress. A large escort of friends, who had made speed to
+Murcia from all parts of the Peninsula, accompanied it, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span>
+there were crowds at the stations, even in the mid-hours of
+the night, with tears, handfuls of roses, wreaths, and poems
+of farewell. There was often something very touching about
+these offerings. At one of the smaller towns a young girl
+hastily gathered flowers from the garden attached to the station,
+broke off a spray from a blossoming tree, tied these with the
+bright ribbon from her hair, and, clambering up, hung this
+simple nosegay among the costly tributes that already nearly
+covered the outer sides of the funeral car. In another crowded
+station the village priest came hurrying forward, bared his head
+with deepest reverence before the garlanded coach, as if before
+the altar, and chanted the prayers for the dead. Again, a
+group of workmen, allowed to enter the car, fell on their
+knees before the bier and prayed.</p>
+
+<p>The train was met on its arrival in Madrid by an immense
+concourse of people. Señor Silvela and other distinguished
+representatives of the Government were there, church dignitaries,
+presidents of political societies and literary academies,
+but, above all, the people. It was the great, surging multitude
+that gave the Republican leader his grandest welcome.</p>
+
+<p>This poor shell of Castelar, the man said to bear "the soul
+of a Don Quixote in the body of a Sancho Panza," lay in
+state through Sunday and a part of Monday in the <i>Palacio del
+Congreso</i>. The vestibule had been converted into a <i>capilla
+ardiente</i>. Masses were chanted ceaselessly at the two candle-laden
+altars, the perfume from the ever increasing heaps of
+flowers was so oppressive that the guards had to be relieved
+at short intervals, and the procession of people that filed
+rapidly past the bier, often weeping as they went, reached out
+from the Morocco lions of the doorway to the <i>Prado</i> and the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span>
+Fountain of Neptune. Many of the humblest clad, waiting
+half the day in line, held pinks or lilies, fast withering in the
+sun, to drop at the feet of the people's friend. Early on
+Monday afternoon the doors were closed, and by half-past
+three the funeral cortège began to form in the <i>Prado</i> for its
+four-hour march by way of the <i>Calle de Alcalá</i>, <i>Puerta del
+Sol</i>, <i>Calle Mayor</i>, and <i>Cuesta de la Vega</i>, to the cemetery of
+San Isidro.</p>
+
+<p>By the never failing Spanish courtesy, I was invited to see
+the procession from the balcony of a private house in the
+<i>Alcalá</i>. I found my hostess, a vivacious little old lady, whose
+daughter had crowned her with glory and honor by marrying
+into the nobility, much perturbed over the failure of the Queen
+Regent to show sympathy with the popular grief.</p>
+
+<p>"There were one hundred and forty-nine wreaths sent in.
+The very number shows that the royal wreath was lacking.
+I am a Conservative, of course. Canovas was my friend, and
+has dined here often and often. You see his portrait there
+beside that of my daughter, <i>la Marquesa</i>. But Canovas loved
+Castelar, and would not, like Silvela, have grudged him the
+military honors of a national funeral. As if the dead were
+Republicans! The dead are Spaniards, and Castelar is a
+great Spaniard, as this tremendous throng of people proves.
+There were not nearly so many for Canovas, though the aristocracy
+made an elegant display; there were not so many for
+Alfonso XII, though all that Court and State and army could
+do was done, and the Queen rode in the splendid ebony coach
+in which Juana the Mad used to carry about the body of that
+handsome husband of hers.</p>
+
+<p>"But the people know their losses. Never in my life have
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span>
+I seen the <i>Alcalá</i> so full as this. Silvela has had to give way,
+and the troops will come&mdash;at least a few of them. But not
+a word, not a flower, from the Queen! She sent a magnificent
+wreath for Canovas, and a beautiful letter to his widow.
+But for Castelar, her people's hero, nothing. Ah, she is not
+<i>simpática</i>. She does not know her opportunities. She does
+not understand the art of winning love. Only a year ago she
+sent a wreath to the funeral of Frascuelo, the <i>torero</i>. And
+everybody knows how she hates the bull-fight. But if she
+could drop her prejudices then to be at one with the feeling
+of her capital, why not now? They say she has a neuralgic
+headache to-day. <i>Ay, Dios mio!</i> I should think she might."</p>
+
+<p>Listening to this frank chatter and watching that mighty
+multitude, I was reminded of one of the Andalusian <i>coplas</i>:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"The Republic is dead and gone;</p>
+<p class="i1">Bury her out of the rain.</p>
+<p>But see! There is never a <i>Panteón</i></p>
+<p class="i1">Can hold the funeral train."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And this, in turn, suggested another of those popular refrains:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"The moon is a Republican,</p>
+<p class="i1">And the sun with open eye;</p>
+<p>The earth she is Republican,</p>
+<p class="i1">And Republican am I."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But who can understand this ever baffling Spain? After
+all, what was the significance of that assembled host? How
+far was it drawn by devotion to the man, and how far by
+devotion to the idea for which he stood? How far by idle
+curiosity, by the Spanish passion for pomps and shows, and,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span>
+above all, for a crowd, by that strange Spanish delight in
+<i>mucha gente</i>? So far as eye could tell, this might have
+been the merriest of fêtes. The wide street was a sea of
+restless color. Uniforms, liveries, parasols, hats, frocks,
+pinafores, kerchiefs, blouses, sashes, fans, flecked the sunshine
+with a thousand hues. Here loitered a messenger boy in
+vivid scarlet; there passed a waiter with a silver tray gleaming
+on his head; here a market woman bent beneath her
+burden of russet sacks bursting with greens; there stood a
+priest in shovel hat and cassock, smelling a great red rose;
+here a gallant in violet cape escorted a lady flaming in saffron;
+there a beaming old peasant, with an azure scarf tied over
+his white head, threw an orange to attract the attention of a
+plodding porter, whose forehead was protected from the cords
+binding the boxes to his back by several folds of purplish
+carpeting.</p>
+
+<p>Streets and sidewalks, balconies and windows, all were full,
+and everywhere such eagerness, such animation, and such
+stir! The children sitting on the curbstone rocked their
+little bodies back and forth in excitement. Young mothers
+danced their crying infants, and young fathers shifted the
+babies of a size or two larger from one shoulder to the
+other. A boy in a red cap climbed a small locust tree, from
+whose foliage his head peeped out like an overgrown cherry.
+The crowd indignantly called the attention of authority to
+this violation of the city laws. A glittering member of the
+Civil Guard sonorously ordered the culprit down. The
+laughing lad refused to budge, inviting this embarrassed arm
+of the law to reach up and get him. The Guard darkly surveyed
+the slender stem already swaying with the boy's slight
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span>
+weight. The fickle crowd, whose every face seemed to be
+upturned toward that defiant cherry, cheered the rebel and
+tossed him cigarettes and matches, wherewith he proceeded to
+enjoy a smoke. The Guard caught a few cigarettes in mid-career,
+pocketed them, smiled benevolently, and walked away.
+The lad saucily saluted, and the multitude, suddenly impartial,
+pelted them both with peanuts.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it was that the Madrid populace awaited the last
+coming of Castelar. Even when the funeral train was passing,
+the crowd showed scant respect. Not half the men
+uncovered for the bier, although I was glad to see the cherry
+cap whisked off. And one picturesque gentleman stood
+throughout with his back to the procession, making eyes at
+his novia in the gallery above our own.</p>
+
+<p>The Government, which had finally assumed the charges
+and care of the obsequies, had been remiss in not providing
+lines of soldiers to hold an open way for the cortège. As it
+was, the procession could hardly struggle through the mass
+of humanity that choked the street. A solitary rider, mounted,
+like Death, on a white horse, went in advance, threatening
+the people with his sword. A division of the Civil Guard
+followed, erect and magnificent as ever, their gold bands
+glittering across their breasts, but their utmost efforts could
+not effectually beat back the crowd. Men scoffed at the
+drawn blades and pushed against the horses with both hands.
+The empty "coach of respect," black as night, its sable
+horses tossing high white plumes, pressed after, and then
+came some half dozen carriages overflowing with wreaths and
+palms, and all that wealth of floral gifts. The crowd caught
+at the floating purple ribbons, and called aloud the names
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span>
+upon the cards; a monster design, with velvet canopy, from
+the well-known daily, <i>El Liberal</i>, a beautiful crown from the
+widow of Canovas, and, later in the procession, alone upon
+the coffin, a nosegay of roses and lilies, brought in the morning
+by a child of four, a little "daughter of the people," and
+bearing the roughly written words, "Glory to Castelar!&mdash;A
+workingman."</p>
+
+<p>The train of mourners, impeded as it was by the multitude,
+seemed endless. After the representatives of certain charities
+there walked, in gala uniform, white-headed veterans of war.
+A great company of students followed, their young faces
+serious and calm in that tempting hurly-burly of the street,
+and after them an overwhelming throng of delegates from
+all manner of commercial and craft unions. Even the
+press wondered that Castelar's death should move so profoundly
+the trading and laboring classes, almost every store
+and workshop in Madrid closing for the afternoon. Then
+came the Republican committees, and behind them the
+representatives of countless literary, scientific, and artistic
+associations.</p>
+
+<p>At this point in the procession a place had been made for
+all or any who might wish, as individuals, to follow Castelar
+to the tomb. Some fifteen hundred had availed themselves
+of the opportunity&mdash;a motley fellowship. The gentlemen
+preceding, those who had come as delegates from the industrial
+and learned bodies of all Spain, wore almost without exception
+the correct black coat and tall silk hat, and paced, when they
+could, with a steady dignity, or halted, when they must, with
+a grave patience, that did more to quiet the unruly host of
+spectators than all the angry charges of the police. But the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span>
+fifteen hundred showed the popular variety of costume&mdash;capes
+and blouses, broad white hats and the artisan's colored
+cap. Some of them were smoking, an indecorum which, by
+a self-denial that counts for much with Spaniards, nowhere
+else appeared in the long array.</p>
+
+<p>But whatever might be the deficiencies of dress or bearing,
+here, one felt, was the genuine sorrow, here were the men
+who believed in Castelar and longed to do him honor. The
+impulsive onlookers responded to this impression, and more
+than one rude fellow, who had been skylarking a minute
+before, elbowed his way into the troop and fell soberly into
+such step as there was. Music would have worked wonders
+with that disorderly scene, but the bugles and cornets were
+all in the far rear. The representatives of the provinces, as
+they struggled by, were hailed with jokes and personalities.
+The chanting group of clergy, uplifting the same ebony cross
+that they had borne for Canovas, did not entirely hush the
+crowd, nor did even the black-plumed hearse itself, with its
+solemn burden. For close after came, bearing tapers, a group
+of political note, closed by Sagasta and Campos, and then the
+chiefs of army and navy, including Blanco and Weyler.
+Behind these walked the city fathers, the senators, the diplomats,
+ex-ministers,&mdash;among them Romero, Robledo,&mdash;then
+the archbishop, and, finally, Silvela, with his colleagues.</p>
+
+<p>The procession was closed by a military display and a line
+of empty coaches, sent, according to Spanish custom, as a
+mark of respect. The coach sent by Congress, a patriotic
+blaze of red and yellow, with coachman and footman in red
+coats and yellow trousers, and horses decked with red and
+yellow plumes, looked as if it had started for the circus and
+had missed its way.
+
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_298" id="i_298"></a>
+<img src="images/i_298.jpg" width="620" height="412" alt="An Old-fashioned Bull-Fight" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">An Old-fashioned Bull-Fight</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span>
+The sight of the politicians seemed to serve as spark to the
+Republican fuel. Even while the hearse was passing somebody
+shouted, "Long live Castelar!" but the crowd corrected
+the cry to "Long live the glorious memory of Castelar!"
+Then came a heterogeneous uproar: "Death to the friars!"
+"Long live the Republican Union!" "Down with Reaction!"
+"Down with the Jesuits!" "Down with Polavieja!"
+"Down with the Government!" "Up with the
+Republic!" "Long live Spain!" "Long live the army!"
+"Long live Weyler!"</p>
+
+<p>A woman was run over in the confusion and a man was
+trampled, but the procession, aided as much as possible by the
+Civil Guards and the police, slowly worked its way through
+the <i>Alcalá</i> to the <i>Puerta del Sol</i>, where the people poured upon it
+like an avalanche, with ever louder cries against ministry and
+clergy, until the scene in front of the Government Building
+suggested something very like a mob. Silvela bore his silvered
+head erect and exerted a prudent forbearance. But few arrests
+were made, and the military force that sallied out from
+the Government Building merely stood in the gates to awe
+the rioters. After an hour and a quarter the transit of the
+square was effected. The disturbances were renewed in
+the <i>Calle Mayor</i> with such violence that the ministers were
+advised to withdraw, but they only entered the funeral coaches,
+and, the Guards exerting themselves to the utmost, a degree
+of order was at last secured. While the cortège was descending
+the difficult hill of La Vega, the Queen, standing in one
+of the palace balconies, opera glass in hand, sent a messenger
+for a report of the state of affairs in her capital, and was
+visited and reassured by a member of the Government.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span></p>
+
+<p>After this stormy journey the cemetery of San Isidro was
+reached at nightfall, and the silent orator laid to rest in the
+patio of <i>Santa Maria de la Cabeza</i>, beside his beloved sister,
+Concha Castelar. Even here Republican <i>vivas</i> were raised,
+and again, later in the evening, before the house of Weyler,
+who appeared upon the balcony in answer to repeated calls.
+This general, more popular with Spaniards than with us,
+discreetly absented himself on Tuesday from the high mass
+chanted for Castelar in the Church of <i>San Francisco el
+Grande</i>, where there was an imposing display of uniforms
+and decorations.</p>
+
+<p>While the people still talked of their lost leader and proposed
+monuments and medals in his honor, the Government
+held firmly on its course. The Royal Progress for the opening
+of the Cortes on the following Friday was a suggestive
+contrast to the procession of Monday. Soldiers lined the
+curbstones all the way from the Royal Palace to the Congress
+Hall, bands were posted at intervals, the royal escort, splendidly
+mounted and equipped, was in itself a formidable force,
+while additional troops, in gala dress, paraded all the city.
+The balconies along the royal route were handsomely draped,
+but the people looked on at the gorgeous array of coaches,
+gilded and emblazoned, each drawn by six or eight choice
+horses, with sumptuous plumes and trappings, and attended
+by a story-book pomp of quaintly attired postilions, coachmen,
+and outriders, in a silence that was variously explained to me
+as indicating respect, hostility, indifference.</p>
+
+<p>I heard no <i>vivas</i> and saw no hats raised even for the affable
+Infanta Isabel, riding alone in the tortoise-shell carriage, nor
+for the Princess of Asturias, girlishly attractive in rose color
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span>
+and white, nor for the bright-faced young King, ready with
+his military salute as he passed the foreign embassies, nor for
+the stately Regent, robed as richly as if she were on her way
+to read a gladder message than that which the opposition
+journals indignantly declared "no message, but a pious prayer
+of resignation."</p>
+
+<p>And while Madrid jarred and wrangled, the flowers brought
+by the little daughter of the workingman drooped on the
+marble slab above Castelar's repose.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XVII</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE IMMEMORIAL FASHION</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">
+"For as many auchours affirme (and mannes accions declare) that man is but his
+mynde; so it is to bee daily tride, that the bodie is but a mixture of compoundes, knitte
+together like a fardell of fleashe, and bondell of bones, and united as a heavie lumpe of
+Leade (without the mynde) in the sillie substance of a shadowe."&mdash;<span class="smcap">Thomas Churchill,
+Gentleman.</span></p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">M</span>y Spanish hostess, brightest and prettiest of little
+ladies despite the weight of sorrow upon sorrow,
+came tripping into my room one afternoon with
+her black eyes starry bright under the lace mantilla.</p>
+
+<p>"And where have you been to get so nicely rested?"</p>
+
+<p>"To a <i>duelo</i>."</p>
+
+<p>I turned the word over in my mind. <i>Duelo?</i> Surely that
+must mean the mourning at a house of death, when the men
+have gone forth to church and the burial, and the women
+remain behind to weep together, or one of those tearful <i>At
+Homes</i> kept, day after day, until the mass, by the ladies of the
+afflicted household for their condoling friends. But such a
+smiling little señora! I hardly knew what degree of sympathy
+befitted the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>"Were you acquainted with the&mdash;the person?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I had never seen him. He had been an officer in
+the Philippines many years, and came home very ill, fifteen
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span>
+days since. I wept because I knew his mother, but I wept
+much. Women, at least here in Spain, have always cause
+enough for tears. I thought of my own matters, and had a
+long, long cry. That is why I feel better. There is so little
+time to cry at home. I must see about the dinner now."</p>
+
+<p>And she rustled out again, leaving me to meditate on Spanish
+originality, even in grief.</p>
+
+<p>In any country the usages of death are no less significant
+than the usages of life. That grim necropolis of Glasgow,
+with its few shy gowans under its lowering sky, those tender,
+turf-folded, church-shadowed graveyards of rural England,
+those trains of mourners, men by themselves and women by
+themselves, walking behind the bier in mid-street through the
+mud and rain of wintry Paris to the bedizened Père Lachaise
+or Montparnasse&mdash;such sights interpret a nation as truly as
+its art and history; but the burial customs of Spain, especially
+distinctive, are, like most things Spanish, contradictory and
+baffling to the tourist view. "La Tierra de Vice Versa" is
+not a country that he who runs may read.</p>
+
+<p>The popular verses and maxims treat of death with due
+Castilian solemnity and an always unflinching, if often ironic,
+recognition of the mortal fact. "When the house is finished,"
+says the proverb, "the hearse is at the door." Yet this Spanish
+hearse is one of the gayest vehicles since Cinderella's
+coach. If the groundwork is black, there is abundant relief
+in mountings of brilliant yellow, but the funeral carriage is
+often cream-white, flourished over with fantastic designs in
+the bluest of blue or the pinkest of pink. Coffins, too, may
+be gaudy as candy-boxes. The first coffin we saw in Spain
+was bright lilac, a baby's casket, placed on gilt trestles in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span>
+centre of a great chill church, with chanting priests sprinkling
+holy water about it to frighten off the demons, and a crowd
+of black-bearded men waiting to follow it to the grave. Such
+a little coffin and not a woman near! The poor mother was
+decently at home, weeping in the midst of a circle of relatives
+and neighbors, and counting it among her comforts that the
+family had so many masculine friends to walk in the funeral
+procession and show sympathy with the household grief.
+There would be, on the ninth day after and, for several years
+to come, on the anniversary of the death, as many masses as
+could be afforded said in the parish church, when, again, the
+friends would make it a point of duty to attend.</p>
+
+<p>The daily papers abound in these notices, printed in a
+variety of types, so as to cover from two to ten square inches,
+heavily bordered with black, and surmounted, in case of adults,
+with crosses, and with cherubs' heads for children. I take up
+a copy of <i>La Epocha</i> and read the following, under a cross:
+"Third Anniversary. Señorita Doña Francisca Fulana y
+Tal died the twenty-sixth of June, 1896, at twenty-one years
+of age. R. I. P. Her disconsolate mother and the rest of the
+family ask their friends and all pious persons to be so good as
+to commend her to God. All the masses celebrated to-morrow
+morning in the Church of San Pascual will be applied to the
+everlasting rest of the soul of the said señorita. Indulgences
+are granted in the usual form." It is the third anniversary,
+too, of a titled lady, whose "husband, brothers, brothers-in-law,
+nephews, uncles, cousins, and all who inherit under her
+will" have ordered masses in two churches for the entire day
+to-morrow, and announce, moreover, that the ecclesiastical
+authorities grant "one hundred and forty days of indulgence
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span>
+to all the faithful for each mass that they hear, sacred communion
+that they devote, or portion of a rosary that they pray
+for the soul of this most noble lady."</p>
+
+<p>In the case of another lady of high degree, who died yesterday,
+"having received the Blessed Sacraments and the
+benediction of his Holiness," the Nuncio concedes one hundred
+days of indulgence, the Archbishop of Burgos eighty,
+and the Bishops of Madrid, Alcalá, Cartagena, Leon, and
+Santander forty each; while a marquis who died a year ago,
+"Knight of the Illustrious Order of the Golden Fleece," is
+to have masses said for his soul in seven churches, not only
+all through to-morrow, but for the two days following.</p>
+
+<p>May all these rest in peace, and all who mourn for them
+be comforted! Yet thought drifts away to the poor and lowly,
+whose grief cannot find solace in procuring this costly intercession
+of the Church for the souls they love. It seems hard
+that the inequalities of life should thus reach out into death
+and purgatory. We used, during our sojourn in Granada, to
+meet many pathetic little processions on "The Way of the
+Dead." Over this hollow road, almost a ravine, the fortress
+walls, with their crumbling towers, keep guard on the one
+side, and the terraced gardens of the <i>Generalife</i>, with their
+grand old cypresses, on the other. And here, almost every
+hour of the day, is climbing a company of four rough men,
+carrying on their shoulders a cheap coffin, which perhaps a
+husband follows, or a white-haired father, or, hand in hand,
+bewildered orphan boys. The road is so steep that often the
+bearers set their burden down in the shadow of the bank-side,
+and fling themselves at full length on the ground beside it,
+thriftily passing from man to man the slow-burning wax match
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span>
+for their paper cigarettes. I remember more than one such
+smoking group, with a solitary mourner, hat in hand and eyes
+on the coffin, yet he, too, with cigarette in mouth, standing
+patiently by. All who pass make the sign of the cross, and
+even the rudest peasant uncovers his head. Very shortly the
+bearers may be seen again, coming down the hill at a merry
+pace, the empty box, with its loose, rattling lid, tilted over
+the shoulder now of one, now of another; for the children
+of poverty, who had not chambers of their own nor the dignity
+of solitude in life, lie huddled in a common pit after death,
+without coffin-planks to sever dust from dust.</p>
+
+<p>A century ago it was usual to robe the dead in monastic
+garb, especially in the habit of St. Francis or of the Virgin of
+Carmen, and within the present generation bodies were borne
+to the grave on open biers, the bystanders saluting, and bidding
+them farewell and quiet rest:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"'Duerme in paz!' dicen los buenos.</p>
+<p>'Adios!' dicen los demás."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But now the closed coffin of many colors is in vogue. In
+the Santiago market we met a cheerful dame with one of
+these balanced on her head, crying for a purchaser, and up
+the broad flights of steps to the Bilbao cemetery we saw a
+stolid-faced young peasant-woman swinging along with a
+child's white coffin, apparently heavy with the weight of
+death, poised on the glossy black coils of hair, about which
+she had twisted a carmine handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>Very strange is the look of a Spanish cemetery, with its
+ranges of high, deep walls, wherein the coffins are thrust end-wise,
+each above each, to the altitude of perhaps a dozen
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span>
+layers. These cells are sometimes purchased outright, sometimes
+rented for ten years, or five, or one. When the friends
+of the quiet tenant pay his dues no longer, forth he goes to
+the general ditch, <i>osario común</i>, and leaves his room for another.
+Such wall graves are characteristically Spanish, this mode of
+burial in the Peninsula being of long antiquity. Yet the rich
+prefer their own pantheons, sculptured like little chapels, or
+their own vaults, over which rise tall marbles of every device,
+the shaft, the pyramid, the broken column; while a poor
+family, or two or three neighboring households, often make
+shift to pay for one large earth grave, in which their dead
+may at least find themselves among kith and kin. Spanish
+cemeteries are truly silent cities, with streets upon streets
+enclosed between these solemn walls, which open out, at intervals,
+now for the ornamented patios of the rich, now for the
+dreary squares peopled by the poor. Here in a most aristocratic
+quarter, shaded by willows, set with marbles, paved with
+flower beds, sleeps a duke in stately pantheon, which is carved
+all over with angels, texts, and sacred symbols, still leaving
+room for medallions boasting his ancestral dignities. A double
+row of lamps, with gilded, fantastically moulded stands, and
+with dangling crystals of all colors, leads to the massive iron
+door. What enemy has he now to guard against with that
+array of bolts and bars? Here are a poet's palms petrified
+to granite, and here a monument all muffled in fresh flowers.
+Here the magnificent bronze figure of a knight, with sword
+half drawn, keeps watch beside a tomb, while the grave beyond
+a rose bush guards as well. And here an imaged Sandalphon
+holds out open hands, this legend written across his marble
+scarf, "The tear falleth; the flower fadeth; but God treasureth
+the prayer."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There is a certain high-bred reserve about these costly
+sepulchres, but turning to the walls one comes so face to face
+with grief as to experience a sense of intrusion. Each cell
+shows on its sealed door of slate or other stone the name and
+age of its occupant, and perhaps a sentiment, lettered in gilt or
+black, as these: "We bear our loss&mdash;God knows how
+heavily." "Son of my soul." "For thee, that land of larger
+love; for me, until I find thee there, only the valley of sorrow
+and the hard hill of hope."</p>
+
+<p>Most of the cells have, too, a glassed or grated recess in
+front of this inscription wall, holding tributes or memorials&mdash;dried
+flowers, colored images of saints and angels, crucifixes,
+and the like. Sometimes the resurrection symbol of the
+butterfly appears. In the little cemetery at Vigo we noticed
+that the flower-vases were in form of great blue butterflies
+with scarlet splashes on their wings. Sometimes there are
+locks of hair, personal trinkets, and often card or cabinet
+photographs, whose living look startles the beholder. Out
+from a wreath of yellow immortelles peeps the plump smile
+of an old gentleman in modern dress coat; a coquettish lady
+in tiara and earrings laughs from behind her fan; and a grove
+of paper shrubbery, where tissue fairies dressed in rose petals
+dance on the blossoms, half hides the eager face of a Spanish
+midshipman. Where the photographs have faded and dimmed
+with time, the effect is less incongruous, if not less pathetic.</p>
+
+<p>The niches of children contain the gayest possible little
+figures. Here are china angels in blue frocks, with pink
+sleeves and saffron pantalets, pink-tipped plumes, and even
+pink bows in their goldy hair. Here is a company of tiny
+Hamlets, quaint dollikins set up in a circle about a small
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span>
+green grave, each with finger on lip, "The rest is silence."
+Here are two elegant and lazy cherubs, their alabaster chubbiness
+comfortably bestowed in toy chairs of crimson velvet on
+each side of an ivory crucifix. And here is a Bethlehem,
+and here a Calvary, and here the Good Shepherd bearing the
+lamb in His bosom; and here, in simple, but artistic wood
+carving, the Christ with open arms, calling to a child on sick-bed
+to come unto Him, while the mother, prostrate before the
+holy feet, kisses their shadow. One cannot look for long.
+It is well to lift the eyes from the niche graves of Granada to
+the glory of the Sierra Nevada that soars beyond, and turn
+from the patios of San Isidro to the cheerful picture of Madrid
+across the Manzanares, even though, prominent in the vista,
+rises the cupola of <i>San Francisco el Grande</i>. This is the
+National Pantheon, and within, beneath the frescoed dome,
+all aglow with blue and gold, masses are chanted for
+the dead whom Spain decrees to honor, as, so recently, for
+Castelar.</p>
+
+<p>Near this church a viaduct, seventy-five feet high, crosses
+the <i>Calle de Segovia</i>; and, despite the tall crooked railings and
+a constant police patrol, Madrileños bent on suicide often
+succeed in leaping over and bruising out their breath on the
+stones of the street below. It is a desperate exit. The Seine
+and Thames lure their daily victims with murmuring sound
+and the soft, enfolding look of water, but Spaniards who
+spring from this fatal viaduct see beneath them only the cruel
+pavement. That life should be harder than stone! And yet
+the best vigilance of Madrid cannot prevent fresh bloodstains
+on the <i>Calle de Segovia</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Near the cemetery of San Isidro, across the Manzanares,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span>
+are two other large Catholic burial grounds, and the <i>Cementério
+Inglés</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"But murderers, atheists, and Protestants are buried way
+off in the east," said the pretty Spanish girl beside me.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, let's go there!" I responded, with heretic enthusiasm;
+but I had reckoned without the cabman, who promptly and
+emphatically protested.</p>
+
+<p>"That's not a pleasant place for ladies to see. You would
+better drive in the <i>Prado</i> and <i>Recoletos</i>, or in the <i>Buen Retiro</i>."</p>
+
+<p>We told him laughingly that he was speaking against his
+own interests, for the Civil Cemetery was much farther off
+than the parks. He consulted his dignity and decided to
+laugh in return.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not of the <i>pesetas</i> I think first when I am driving
+ladies. But" (with suave indulgence) "you shall go just
+where you like."</p>
+
+<p>So in kindness he gathered up his reins and away we
+clattered sheer across the city. Presently we had left the
+fountain-cooled squares and animated streets behind, had
+passed even the ugly, sinister <i>Plaza de Toros</i>, and outstripped
+the trolley track; but still the road stretched on, enlivened
+only by herds of goats and an occasional <i>venta</i>, where drivers
+of mule trains were pausing to wet their dusty throats. We
+met few vehicles now save the gay-colored hearses, and few
+people except groups of returning mourners, walking in bewildered
+wise, with stumbling feet.</p>
+
+<p>"The Cemetery of the Poor is opposite the Civil Cemetery,"
+said our cabman, "and they have from thirty to fifty burials
+a day. The keeper is a friend of mine. He shall show
+you all about."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A bare Castilian ridge rose before us, where a farmer, leaning
+on his scythe, was outlined against the sky like a silhouette
+of Death. And at last our cheery driver, humming bars from
+a popular light opera, checked his mettlesome old mare,&mdash;who
+plunged down hills and scrambled up as if she were
+running away from the bull-ring, where she must soon fulfil
+her martyrdom,&mdash;between two dismal graveyards. From
+the larger, on our right, tiptoed out a furtive man and peered
+into the cab as if he thought we had a coffin under the seat.</p>
+
+<p>He proved a blood-curdling conductor, always speaking in
+a hoarse whisper and glancing over his shoulder in a way to
+make the stoutest nerves feel ghosts, but he showed us, under
+that sunset sky, memorable sights&mdash;ranks upon ranks of
+gritty mounds marked with black, wooden crosses, a scanty
+grace for which the living often pay the price of their own
+bread that the dead they love may pass a year or two out of
+that hideous general fosse. Then the sexton reluctantly led
+us to the unblessed, untended hollow across the way, where
+rows of brick sepulchres await the poor babies who die before
+the holy water touches them, where recumbent marbles press
+upon the dead who knew no upward reach of hope, and where
+defiant monuments, erected by popular subscription and often
+bearing the blazonry of a giant quill, denote the resting-places
+of freethinkers and the agitators of new ideas. There were
+some Christian inscriptions, whether for Protestants or not
+I do not know, but to my two companions there was no
+distinction of persons in this unhallowed limbo.</p>
+
+<p>Our dusty guide led us hurriedly from plot to plot.</p>
+
+<p>"They say the mothers cheat the priests, and there are
+babies over yonder that ought to be here, for the breath was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span>
+out of them before ever they were baptized. They say the
+priests had this man done to death one night, because he
+wrote against religion. He was only twenty-two. The club
+he belonged to put up that stone. They say there are evil
+words on it. But I don't know myself. I can't read, thanks
+to God. They say it was through reading and writing that
+most of these came here."</p>
+
+<p>"But those are not evil words," I answered. "They are,
+'Believe in Jesus and thou shalt be saved.'"</p>
+
+<p>He hastily crossed himself, "Do me the favor not to read
+such words out loud. Here is another, where they say the
+words are words of hell."</p>
+
+<p>I held my peace this time, musing on that broad marble
+with its one deep-cut line, "The Death of God."</p>
+
+<p>"And over there," he croaked, pointing with his clay-colored
+thumb, "is <i>Whiskers</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The señorita, whose black eyes had been getting larger
+and larger, gave a little scream and fairly ran for the gate.</p>
+
+<p>Spaniards have usually great sympathy for criminals, newspaper
+accounts of executions often closing with an entreaty
+for God's mercy on "this poor man's soul," but <i>Whiskers</i>,
+the Madrid sensation of a fortnight since, was a threefold
+murderer. Passion-mad, he had shot dead in the open street
+a neighbor's youthful wife, held the public at bay with his
+revolver, and mortally wounded two Civil Guards, before he
+turned the fatal barrel on himself.</p>
+
+<p>"His family wanted him laid over the way," continued that
+scared undertone at my ear, "but the bishop said no. A
+murderer like that was just as bad as infidels and Protestants,
+and should be buried out of grace."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I felt as if Superstition incarnate were walking by my side,
+and after one more look at that strangely peopled patch of
+unconsecrated ground, with its few untrimmed cypresses
+and straggling rose bushes, hillside slopes about and glory-flooded
+skies above, I gave Superstition a <i>peseta</i>, which he
+devoutly kissed, and returned to the cab, followed by the
+carol of a solitary bird.</p>
+
+<p>I remember a similar experience in Cadiz. I had driven
+out with one of my Spanish hostesses to the large seaside
+cemetery, a mile beyond the gate. This is arranged in nine
+successive patios, planted with palms and cypresses. In the
+niches, seashells play a prominent part. The little angel
+images, as gay as ever, with their pink girdles and their
+purple wings, may be seen swinging in shells, sleeping in
+shells, and balancing on the edge of shells to play their
+golden flutes. Near by is an English and German cemetery,
+with green-turfed mounds and a profusion of blossoming
+shrubs and flower beds. Not sure of the direction, as we
+were leaving the Catholic enclosure I asked a bandy-legged,
+leather-visaged old sexton, who might have been the very one
+that dug Ophelia's grave, if the "Protestant cemetery" was
+at our right. He laid down his mattock, peered about among
+the mausolea to see if we were quite alone, winked prodigiously,
+and, drawing a bunch of keys from the folds of his
+black sash, started briskly down a by-path and signed to us
+to follow. He led us through stony passages out beyond
+the sanctified ground into a dreary, oblong space, a patch of
+weeds and sand, enclosed by the lofty sepulchral walls, but
+with a blessed strip of blue sky overhead.</p>
+
+<p>"Here they are!" he chuckled. "They wouldn't confess,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span>
+they died without the sacraments, and here they
+are."</p>
+
+<p>Some names lettered on the wall seemed to be those of
+Dutch and Norwegian sailors, who had perhaps died friendless
+in this foreign port. There were pebble-strewn graves
+of Jews, and upright marbles from which the dead still
+seemed to utter voice: "I refuse the prayers of all the
+saints, and ask the prayers of honest human souls. I believe
+in God." And another, "God is knowledge." And
+another, "God is All that works for Wisdom and for
+Love."</p>
+
+<p>"Are there burial services for these?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>If the Church of England could have seen that crooked
+old sexton go through his gleeful pantomime!</p>
+
+<p>"There's one that comes with some, and they call him
+Pastor! And he scrapes up a handful of dirt&mdash;so! And
+he flings it at the coffin&mdash;so! And then he stands up
+straight and says, 'Dust to dust!' I've heard him say it
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>"God of my soul!" cried the Spanish lady in horror, and
+to express her detestation of such a heathenish rite, she spat
+upon the ground.</p>
+
+<p>The monarchs of Spain do not mingle their ashes. Who
+knows where Roderick sleeps? Or does that deathless
+culprit still lurk in mountain caverns, as tradition has it,
+wringing his wasted hands and tearing his white beard in
+unavailing penitence? The "Catholic kings," Ferdinand
+and Isabella, lie, not where they had planned, in that beautiful
+Gothic church of Toledo, <i>San Juan de los Reyes</i>, on
+whose outer walls yet hang the Moorish chains struck from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span>
+the limbs of Christian captives, but in Granada, the city
+of their conquest, where they slumber proudly, although
+their coffins are of plainest lead and their last royal chamber a
+small and dusky vault. Pedro the Cruel is thrust away in a
+narrow wall-grave beneath the <i>Capilla Real</i> of Seville cathedral.
+His brother, the Master of Santiago, whom he treacherously
+slew in one of the loveliest halls of the Alcázar, is
+packed closely in on his left, and Maria de Padilla, for whose
+sake he cut short the hapless life of Queen Blanche, on his
+right. Pleasant family discussions they must have at the
+witching hour of night, when they drag their numb bones
+out of those pigeon-holes for a brief respite of elbow room!
+San Fernando, the Castilian conqueror of Castile, canonized
+"because he carried fagots with his own hands for the
+burning of heretics," is more commodiously accommodated in
+a silver sarcophagus in the chapel above, where Alfonso the
+Learned also has long leisure for thought. Another Alfonso
+and another Fernando, with another wife of Pedro the Cruel,
+keep their state in Santiago de Compostela, and still another
+Alfonso and two Sanchos have their splendid tombs in the
+<i>Capilla Mayor</i> of Toledo cathedral, while in its <i>Capilla de
+los Reyes Nuevos</i>, a line descended from that brother whom
+Pedro murdered, sleeps the first John, with the second and
+third Henrys.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_315" id="i_315"></a>
+<img src="images/i_315.jpg" width="594" height="416" alt="Bull-Fight of To-Day" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Bull-Fight of To-Day</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Cordova cathedral, although this lovely mosque recks little
+of Christian majesties, has the ordinary equipment of an
+Alfonso and a Fernando, and the Royal Monastery of Las
+Huelgas in Burgos shelters Alfonso VIII, with his queen,
+Eleanor of England. In less noted churches, one continually
+chances on them, <i>rey</i> or <i>reina</i>, <i>infante</i> or <i>infanta</i>, dreaming
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span>
+the centuries away in rich recesses of fretted marble and alabaster,
+with the shadow of great arches over them and the
+deep-voiced chant around.</p>
+
+<p>But since Philip II created, in his own sombre likeness,
+the monastery of the Escorial, rising in angular austerity
+from a spur of the bleak Guadarrama Mountains, the royal
+houses of Austria and Bourbon have sought burial there.
+The first and chief in the dank series of sepulchral vaults,
+the celebrated <i>Panteón de los Reyes</i>, is an octagon of black
+marble, placed precisely under the high altar, and gloomily
+magnificent with jasper, porphyry, and gold. It has an altar
+of its own, on whose left are three recesses, each with four
+long shelves placed one above another for the sarcophagi of
+the kings of Spain, and on whose right are corresponding
+recesses for the queens. As the guide holds his torch, we
+read the successive names of the great Charles I, founder of
+the Austrian line; the three Philips, in whom his genius
+dwindled more and more; and the half-witted Charles II, in
+whom it ignobly perished. The coffin lid of Charles I has
+twice been lifted, once as late as 1871, in compliment to the
+visiting Emperor of Brazil, and even then that imperial body
+lay intact, with blackened face and open, staring eyes. The
+gilded bronze coffin of Philip II was brought to his bedside
+for his inspection in his last hour of life. After a critical
+survey he ordered a white satin lining and more gilt nails&mdash;a
+remarkable sense of detail in a man who had sent some ten
+thousand heretics to the torture.</p>
+
+<p>Looking for the Bourbons, we miss the first of them all,
+the melancholy Philip V, who would not lay him down among
+these Austrians, but sleeps with his second queen, the strong-willed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span>
+Elizabeth Farnese, in his cloudy retreat of San Ildefonso,
+within hearing of the fountains of La Granja. His eldest
+son, Luis the Well-Beloved, who died after a reign of seven
+months, rests here in the Escorial, but Fernando VI, also the
+son of Philip's first queen&mdash;that gallant little Savoyarde who
+died so young&mdash;was buried in Madrid. Charles III, best
+and greatest of the Spanish Bourbons, is here, the weak
+Charles IV, Fernando VII, "The Desired" and the Disgraceful,
+and Alfonso XII, while a stately sarcophagus is
+already reserved for Alfonso XIII.</p>
+
+<p>To the cold society of these five Austrian and five Bourbon
+sovereigns are admitted nine royal ladies. Of these, the first
+three are in good and regular standing&mdash;the queen of Charles I
+and mother of Philip II, the fourth queen of Philip II and
+mother of Philip III, the queen of Philip III and mother of
+Philip IV. But here is an intruder. Philip IV, who had an
+especial liking for this grewsome vault, and used often to
+clamber into his own niche to hear mass, insisted on having
+both his French and Austrian queens interred here, although
+the first, Isabel of Bourbon, is not the mother of a Spanish
+king, the promising little Baltasar having died in boyhood.
+The brave girl-queen of Philip V is here, in double right as
+mother both of Luis and Fernando VI, and here is the wife
+of Charles III and mother of Charles IV. But of sorry
+repute are the last two queens, the wife of Charles IV and
+mother of Fernando VII, she who came hurrying down those
+slippery marble stairs in feverish delirium to scratch <i>Luisa</i>
+with scissors on her selected coffin, and this other, Maria
+Cristina, wife of Fernando VII and mother of the dethroned
+Isabel, a daughter who did not mend the story. It will not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span>
+be long before she returns from her French exile to enter into
+possession of the sarcophagus that expects her here, even as
+another sumptuous coffin awaits the present regent. Pity it
+is for Isabel, whose name is still a byword in the Madrid
+cafés! But she always enjoyed hearing midnight mass in this
+dim and dreadful crypt, and will doubtless be glad to come
+back to her ancestors, such as they were, and take up her
+royal residence with them in "dust of human nullity and
+ashes of mortality."
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XVIII</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">CORPUS CHRISTI IN TOLEDO</p>
+<div class="poem p2">
+<p class="o1">"A blackened ruin, lonely and forsaken,</p>
+<p>Already wrapt in winding-sheets of sand,</p>
+<p>So lies Toledo till the dead awaken,</p>
+<p>A royal spoil of Time's resistless hand."</p>
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Zorrilla</span>: <i>Toledo</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">I</span>n the thirteenth century the doctrine of transubstantiation
+assumed especial importance. Miracle plays and
+cathedral glass told thrilling stories of attacks made by
+Jews on the sacred Wafer, which bled under their poniards or
+sprang from their caldrons and ovens in complete figure of
+the Christ. The festival of Corpus Christi, then established
+by Rome, was devoutly accepted in Spain and used to be
+celebrated with supreme magnificence in Madrid. Early in
+the reign of Philip IV, Prince Charles of England, who, with
+the adventurous Buckingham, had come in romantic fashion
+to the Spanish capital, hoping to carry by storm the heart of
+the Infanta, stood for hours in a balcony of the Alcázar,
+gazing silently on the glittering procession. How they swept
+by through the herb-strewn, tapestried streets&mdash;musicians,
+standard-bearers, cross-bearers, files of orphans from the
+asylums, six and thirty religious brotherhoods, monks of all
+the orders, barefoot friars, ranks of secular clergy and brothers
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span>
+of charity, the proud military orders of Alcántara, Calatrava,
+and Santiago, the Councils of the Indies, of Aragon, of
+Portugal, the Supreme Council of Castile, the City Fathers of
+Madrid, the Governmental Ministers of Spain and Spanish
+Italy, the Tribunal of the Holy Office, preceded by a long
+array of cloaked and hooded Familiars, bishops upon bishops
+in splendid, gold-enwoven vestments, priests of the royal
+chapel displaying the royal banner, bearers of the crosier
+and the sacramental vessels, the Archbishop of Santiago,
+royal chaplains and royal majordomos, royal pages with tall
+wax tapers, incense burners, the canopied mystery of the
+Eucharist, the king, the prince, cardinals, nuncio, the
+inquisitor general, the Catholic ambassadors, the patriarch
+of the Indies, the all-powerful Count-Duke Olivares, grandees,
+lesser nobility, gentlemen, and a display of Spanish and
+German troops, closed by a great company of archers.
+So overwhelming was that solemn progress, with its brilliant
+variety of sacerdotal vestments, knightly habits, robes of
+state and military trappings, its maces, standards, crosses, the
+flash of steel, gold, jewels, and finally the sheen of candles,
+the clouds of incense, the tinkling of silver bells before the
+<i>Santisimo Corpus</i>, that the heretic prince and his reckless
+companion fell to their knees. One Spanish author pauses to
+remark that for these, who could even then reject the open
+arms of the Mother Church, the assassin's blow and the
+Whitehall block were naturally waiting.</p>
+
+<p>Such a pomp would have been worth the seeing, but we
+had arrived at Madrid almost three centuries too late. Catholic
+friends shrugged shoulder at mention of the Corpus
+procession, "<i>Vale poco.</i>" And as for the famous <i>autos sacramentales</i>,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span>
+which used to be celebrated at various times during
+the eight days of the Corpus solemnity, they may be read in
+musty volumes, but can be seen in the city squares no more.
+Calderon is said to have written the trifling number of seventy-two,
+and Lope de Vega, whose fingers must have been tipped
+with pens, some four hundred.</p>
+
+<p>If only our train, which then would not have been a train,
+had brought us, who then would not have come, to Madrid
+in season for a Corpus celebration under the Austrian dynasty,
+we could have attended an open-air theatre of a very curious
+sort. All the way to the <i>Plaza</i>, we would have seen festivity
+at its height, pantomimic dances, merry music, struttings of
+giants and antics of dwarfs, and perhaps groups of boys insulting
+cheap effigies of snakes, modelled after the monstrous
+<i>Tarasca</i>, carried in the Corpus parade in token of Christ's
+victory over the Devil. At intervals along the route, adorned
+with flowers and draperies, and reserved for the procession and
+the dramatic cars, would have been altars hung with rich
+stuffs from the Alcázar and the aristocratic palaces; silks and
+cloth of gold, brocades, velvets, and shimmering wefts of the
+Indies. The one-act play itself might be after the general
+fashion of the mediæval Miracles,&mdash;verse dialogue, tuned to
+piety with chords of fun, for the setting forth of Biblical
+stories. Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac, Moses feeding the
+Israelites with manna, the patience of Job, the trials of
+Joseph, David, and Daniel, were thus represented.</p>
+
+<p>More frequently, the <i>auto sacramental</i> belonged to the so-called
+Morality type of early Christian drama, being an allegorical
+presentation of human experience or exposition of church
+doctrine. Such were "The Fountain of Grace," "The
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span>
+Journey of the Soul," "The Dance of Death," "The
+Pilgrim." Sometimes a Gospel parable, as the "Lost Sheep"
+or the "Prodigal Son," gave the dramatic suggestion. But
+these Spanish spectacles sought to associate themselves, as
+closely as might be, with the Corpus worship, and many of
+them bear directly, in one way or another, upon this sacrament.</p>
+
+<p>If, for instance, we had chanced on the Madrid festival in
+1681, we could have witnessed in the decorated <i>Plaza</i>, with
+its thronged balconies, the entrance of four scenic platforms
+or cars. The first, painted over with battles, bears a Gothic
+castle; the second, with pictures of the sea, a gallant ship;
+the third, a starry globe; the fourth, a grove and garden,
+whose central fountain is so shaped as to form, above, the
+semblance of an altar. In the complicated action of the play,
+when the Soul, besieged in her fortress by the Devil, whose
+allies are the World and the Flesh, calls upon Christ for succor,
+the hollow sphere of the third car opens, revealing the
+Lord enthroned in glory amid cherubim and seraphim; but
+the climax of the triumph is not yet. That stout old general,
+the Devil, rallies fresh forces to the attack, such subtle foes
+as Atheism, Judaism, and Apostasy, and whereas, before, the
+Senses bore the brunt of the conflict, it is the Understanding
+that girds on armor now. Yet in the final outcome not the
+Understanding, but Faith draws the veil from before the
+altar of the fourth car, and there, in the consecrated vessel for
+the holding of the Wafer, appears the "Passion Child," the
+white bread from Heaven, "very flesh and very blood that are
+the price of the soul's salvation."</p>
+
+<p>That is the way Spain kept her Corpus <i>fiesta</i> in the good
+old times of Charles the Bewitched; but not now. After
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span>
+the procession, the bull-fight; and after the bull-fight, the
+latest vaudeville or ballet. Last year it rained on Corpus
+Thursday, which fell on the first of June, and Madrid gave
+up the procession altogether. Some of the Opposition papers
+started the cry that this was shockingly irreligious in Silvela,
+but when the Government organs haughtily explained that
+it was the decision of the archbishop and Señor Silvela
+was not even consulted, the righteous indignation of the
+Liberals straightway subsided. The procession, which was
+to have been a matter of kettledrums and clarionets, soldiery,
+"coaches of respect" from the palace and the city corporation,
+and a full showing of the parochial clergy, did not seem
+to be missed by the people. Corpus has long ceased to be a
+chief event in the Capital.</p>
+
+<p>There are a few cities in Spain, however, where the Corpus
+fête is maintained with something of the old gayety and
+splendor. Bustling Barcelona, never too busy for a frolic,
+keeps it merrily with an elaborate parade from the cathedral
+all about the city, and&mdash;delightful feature!&mdash;the distribution
+of flowers and sweetmeats among the ladies. The procession
+in Valencia resembles those of Holy Week in Seville. On
+litters strewn with flowers and thick-set with candle-lights are
+borne carved groups of sacred figures and richly attired images
+of Christ and the Virgin. But it is in lyric Andalusia that
+these pageantries are most at home. Among her popular
+<i>coplas</i> is one that runs:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"Thursdays three in the year there be,</p>
+<p class="i1">That shine more bright than the sun's own ray&mdash;</p>
+<p>Holy Thursday, Corpus Christi,</p>
+<p class="i1">And our Lord's Ascension Day."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span>
+Cadiz, like Valencia, carries the <i>pasos</i> in the Corpus procession.
+In Seville, where the street displays of Holy Week
+are under the charge of the religious brotherhoods, or <i>cofradias</i>,
+Corpus Christi gives opportunity for the clergy and
+aristocracy to present a rival exhibition of sanctified luxury
+and magnificence.</p>
+
+<p>But it is in beautiful belated Granada that the Corpus fête
+is now at its best. A brilliantly illustrated programme, whose
+many-hued cover significantly groups a gamboge cathedral
+very much in the background, and a flower-crowned Andalusian
+maiden, draped in a Manila shawl, with a prodigious
+guitar at her feet, very much in the foreground, announces a
+medley of festivities extending over eleven days. This cheerful
+booklet promises, together with a constant supply of
+military music, balcony decorations, and city illuminations,
+an assortment of pleasures warranted to suit every taste&mdash;infantry
+reviews, cavalry reviews, cadet reviews, masses under
+roof and masses in the open, claustral processions, parades of
+giants, dwarfs, and <i>La Tarasca</i>, a charity raffle in the park
+under the patronage of Granada's most distinguished ladies,
+the erection of out-of-door altars, the dispensing of six thousand
+loaves of bread among the poor (from my experience of
+Granada beggars I should say the supply was insufficient), a
+solemn Corpus procession passing along white-canopied streets
+under a rain of flowers, three regular bull-fights with the
+grand masters Guerrita, Lagartijillo, and Fuentes, followed by a
+gloriously brutal <i>corrida</i>, with young beasts and inexperienced
+fighters, cattle fair, booths, puppet shows, climbing of greased
+poles, exhibition of fine arts and industries, horse racing, polo,
+pigeon shoot, trapeze, balloon ascensions, gypsy dances, and
+fireworks galore.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But even faithful Granada shared in the strange catalogue
+of misfortunes which attended Corpus last year. The rains
+descended on her Chinese lanterns, and the winds beat against
+her Arabic arches with their thousands of gas-lights. On the
+sacred Thursday itself, the Andalusian weather made a most
+unusual demonstration of hurricane and cloudburst, with interludes
+of thunder and lightning. Great was the damage in field,
+vineyard, and orchard, and as for processions, they were
+in many places out of the question. Even Seville and Cordova
+had to postpone both parades and bull-fights. But this was not
+the worst. In Ecija, one of the quaintest cities of Andalusia,
+an image of the Virgin as the Divine Shepherdess, lovingly
+arrayed and adorned with no little outlay by the nuns of the
+Conception, caught fire in the procession from a taper, like
+Seville's Virgin of Montserrat in the last <i>Semana Santa</i>. The
+<i>Divina Pastora</i> barely escaped with her jewels. Her elaborate
+garments, the herbage and foliage of her pasture, and
+one of her woolly sheep were burned to ashes. In Palma de
+Mallorca, a romantic town of the Balearic Isles, a balcony,
+whose occupants were leaning out to watch the procession,
+broke away, and crashed down into the midst of the throng.
+A young girl fell upon the bayonet of a soldier marching
+beneath, and was grievously hurt. Others suffered wounds
+which, in one case at least, proved fatal. The Opposition
+journals did not fail to make capital out of these untoward
+events, serving them up in satiric verse with the irreverent
+suggestion that, if this was all the favor a reactionary and
+ultra-Catholic government could secure from Heaven, it was
+time to go back to Sagasta.</p>
+
+<p>The ecclesiastical Toledo, seat of the Primate of all Spain,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span>
+is one of the Spanish cities which still observe Corpus Christi
+as a high solemnity, and Toledo is within easy pilgrimage
+distance of Madrid. I had already passed two days in that
+ancient capital of the Visigoths, ridding my conscience of the
+sightseers' burden, and I both longed and dreaded to return.
+The longing overcame the dread, and I dropped in at the
+<i>Estacion del Mediodía</i> for preliminary inquiries. I could discover
+no bureau of information and no official authorized to
+instruct the public, but in this lotus-eating land what is nobody's
+business is everybody's business. There could not be
+a better-humored people. The keeper of the bookstand abandoned
+his counter, his would-be customers lighting cigarettes
+and leaning up against trucks and stacks of luggage to wait
+for his return, and escorted me the length of the station to
+find a big yellow poster, which gave the special time-table for
+Corpus Thursday. The poster was so high upon the wall
+that our combined efforts could not make it out; whereupon
+a nimble little porter dropped the trunk he was carrying, and
+climbed on top of it for a better view. In that commanding
+position he could see clearly enough, but just when my hopes
+were at the brightest, he regretfully explained that he had
+never learned to read. As he clambered down the proprietor
+of the trunk, who had been looking on with as much serenity
+as if trains never went and starting bells never rang, mounted
+in turn. This gentleman, all smiles and bows and tobacco
+smoke, read off the desired items, which the keeper of the
+bookstand copied for me in a leisurely, conversational manner,
+with a pencil lent by one bystander on a card donated by
+another.</p>
+
+<p>There is really something to be said for the Spanish way
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span>
+of doing business. It takes time, but if time is filled with
+human kindliness and social courtesies, why not? What is
+time for? Whenever I observed that I was the only person
+in a hurry on a Madrid street, I revised my opinion as to the
+importance of my errand.</p>
+
+<p>As I entered the station again on the first of June at the
+penitential hour of quarter past six in the morning, I was
+reflecting complacently on my sagacity as a traveller. Had I
+not bethought me that, even in the ecclesiastical centre of
+Spain and on this solemn festival, there might be peril for a
+stranger's purse? What financial acumen I had shown in
+calculating that, since my round-trip ticket to Toledo before
+had cost three dollars, second class, I could probably go first
+class on this excursion for the same sum, while two dollars
+more would be ample allowance for balcony hire and extras!
+And yet how prudent in me to have tucked away a reserve
+fund in a secret pocket inaccessible even to myself! But
+why was the station so jammed and crammed with broad-hatted
+Spaniards? And what was the meaning of that long
+line of roughs, stretching far out from the third-class ticket
+office? Bull-fight explained it all. Even reverend Toledo
+must keep the Corpus holy by the public slaughter of six
+choice bulls and as many hapless horses as their blind rage
+might rend. Worse than the pagan altars that reeked with
+the blood of beasts, Spain's Christian festivals demand torture
+in addition to butchery.</p>
+
+<p>There were no first-class carriages, it appeared, upon the
+Corpus train, and my round-trip ticket, second class, cost only
+a dollar, leaving me with an embarrassment of riches. Pursing
+the slip of pasteboard which, to my disgust, was stamped
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span>
+in vermilion letters <i>Corrida de Toros</i>, I sped me to the train,
+where every seat appeared to be taken, although it lacked
+twenty minutes of the advertised time for departure; but a
+bald-headed philanthropist called out from a carriage window
+that they still had room for one. Gratefully climbing up, I
+found myself in the society of a family party, off for Toledo
+to celebrate the saint-day of their hazel-eyed eight-year-old
+by that treat of treats, a child's first bull-fight. When they
+learned that I was tamely proposing to keep Corpus Christi
+by seeing the procession and not by "assisting at the function
+of bulls," their faces clouded; but they decided to make
+allowance for my foreign idiosyncrasies.</p>
+
+<p>The train, besieged by a multitude of ticket-holders for
+whom there were no places, was nearly an hour late in getting
+off. The ladies dozed and chattered; the gentlemen smoked
+and dozed; little Hazel-eyes constantly drew pictures of
+bulls with a wet finger on the window glass. Reminded
+again by my handbag literature that Toledo is a nest of
+thieves, I would gladly have put away my extra money, but
+there was never a moment when all the gentlemen were asleep
+at once.</p>
+
+<p>It was after ten when we reached our destination, the boy
+wild with rapture because we had actually seen a pasture of
+grazing bulls. A swarm of noisy, scrambling, savage-looking
+humanity hailed the arrival of the train, and I had hardly
+made my way even to the platform before I felt an ominous
+twitch at my pocket. The light-fingered art must have
+degenerated in Toledo since the day of that clever cutpurse
+of the "Exemplary Tales." Turning sharply, I confronted
+a group of my fellow-worshippers, who, shawled and sashed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span>
+and daggered, looked as if they had been expressly gotten up
+for stage bandits. From the shaggy pates, topped by gaudy,
+twisted handkerchiefs&mdash;a headdress not so strange in a city
+whose stone walls looked for centuries on Moorish turbans&mdash;to
+the bright-edged, stealthy hemp sandals, these were pickpockets
+to rejoice a kodak. Their black eyes twinkled at me
+with wicked triumph, while it flashed across my mind that my
+old hero, the Cid, was probably much of their aspect, and certainly
+gained his living in very similar ways. There were a
+full score of these picturesque plunderers, and not a person of
+the nineteenth century in sight. Since there was nothing to
+do, I did it, and giving them a parting glance of moral disapproval,
+to which several of the sauciest responded by blithely
+touching their forelocks, I pursued my pilgrim course, purged
+of vainglory. At all events, I was delivered from temptation
+as to a questionable <i>peseta</i> in my purse&mdash;my pretty Paris
+purse!&mdash;and I should not be obliged to travel again on that
+odious bull-fight ticket.</p>
+
+<p>We were having "fool weather," blowing now hot, now
+cold, but as at this moment the air was cool, and every possible
+vehicle seemed packed, thatched, fringed with clinging
+passengers, I decided, not seeking further reasons, to walk up
+to the town. And what a town it is! Who could remember
+dollars? So far from being decently depressed, I was almost
+glad to have lost something in this colossal monument of
+losses. It seemed to make connection.</p>
+
+<p>Between deep, rocky, precipitous banks, strongly flows the
+golden "king of rivers, the venerable Tajo," almost encircling
+the granite pedestal of the city and spanned by ancient bridges
+of massy stone, with battlemented, Virgin-niched, fierce old
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span>
+gates. And above, upon its rugged height, crumbling hourly
+into the gritty dust that stings the eye and scrapes beneath the
+foot, lies in swirls on floor and pavement, blows on every
+breeze and sifts through hair and clothing, is the proud, sullen,
+forsaken fortress of "imperial Toledo." Still it is a vision
+of turrets, domes, and spires, fretwork, buttresses, façades,
+but all so desolate, so dreary, isolated in that parched landscape
+as it is isolated in the living world, that one approaches
+with strangely blended feelings of awe, repugnance, and
+delight.</p>
+
+<p>On we go over the Bridge of Alcántara, wrought æons
+since by a gang of angry Titans&mdash;the guidebooks erroneously
+attribute it to the Moors and Alfonso the Learned&mdash;with
+a shuddering glance out toward the ruins of feudal
+castles, here a battlemented keep set with mighty towers,
+there a great, squat, frowning mass of stone, the very sight
+of which might have crushed a prisoner's heart. Up, straight
+up, into the grim, gray, labyrinthine city, whose zigzag streets,
+often narrowing until two laden donkeys, meeting, cannot pass,
+so twist and turn that it is impossible on entering one to guess
+at what point of the compass we will come out. These
+crooked ways, paved with "agony stones," are lined with
+tall, dark, inhospitable house fronts, whose few windows are
+heavily grated, and whose huge doors, bristling with iron
+bosses, are furnished with fantastic knockers and a whole
+arsenal of bolts and chains.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_334" id="i_334"></a>
+<img src="images/i_334.jpg" width="421" height="623" alt="The King of the Gypsies" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The King of the Gypsies</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Gloomy as these ponderous structures are, every step discloses
+a novelty of beauty,&mdash;a chiselled angel, poised for
+flight, chased escutcheons, bas-reliefs, toothed arches, medallions,
+weather-eaten groups of saints and apostles gossiping
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span>
+in their scalloped niches about the degeneracy of the times.
+The Moors, whose architecture, says Becquer, seems the
+dream of a Moslem warrior sleeping after battle in the shadow
+of a palm, have left their mark throughout Toledo in the airy
+elegance of the traceries magically copied from cobwebs and
+the Milky Way. That tragic race, the Jews, have stamped on
+the walls of long-desecrated synagogues their own mysterious
+emblems. And Goths and Christian knights have wrought
+their very likenesses into the stern, helmeted heads that peer
+out from the capitals of marvellous columns amid the stone
+grapes and pomegranates most fit for their heroic nourishment.
+But all is in decay. Here stands a broken-sceptred
+statue turning its royal back on a ragged vender of toasted
+<i>garbanzos</i>. Even the image of Wamba has lost its royal nose.</p>
+
+<p>You may traverse whispering cloisters heaped with fallen
+crosses, with truant tombstones, and severed heads and limbs
+of august prophets. Cast aside in dusky vaults lie broken
+shafts of rose-tinted marbles and fragments of rare carving in
+whose hollows the birds of the air once built their nests.
+Through the tangle of flowers and shrubbery that chokes the
+patios gleam the rims of alabaster urns and basins of jasper
+fountains. Such radiant wings and faces as still flash out
+from frieze and arch and column, such laughing looks, fresh
+with a dewy brightness, as if youth and springtime were
+enchanted in the stone! And what supreme grace and truth
+of artistry in all this bewildering detail! On some far-off
+day of the golden age, when ivory and agate were as wax,
+when cedar and larch wood yielded like their own soft leaves,
+the magician must have pressed upon them the olive leaf, the
+acacia spray, the baby's foot, that have left these perfect traces.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span>
+And how did mortal hand ever achieve the intricate, curling,
+unfolding, blossoming marvel of those capitals? And who
+save kings, Wambas and Rodericks, Sanchos, Alfonsos, and
+Fernandos, should mount these magnificent stairways? And
+what have those staring stone faces above that antique doorway
+looked upon to turn them haggard with horror? City of
+ghosts! The flesh begins to creep. But here, happily, we
+are arrived in the <i>Plaza de Zocodovér</i>, where Lazarillo de
+Tormes used to display his talents as town crier, and in
+this long-memoried market-place, with its arcaded sides and
+trampled green, may pause to take our bearings.</p>
+
+<p>Evidently the procession is to pass here, for the balconies,
+still displaying the yellow fronds of Palm Sunday, are hung
+with all manner of draperies&mdash;clear blue, orange with silver
+fringes, red with violet bars, white with saffron scallops.
+Freed from sordid cares about my pocket, I give myself for
+a little to the spell of that strange scene. Beyond rise the
+rich-hued towers of the Alcázar, on the site where Romans,
+Visigoths, Arabs, the Cid, and an illustrious line of Spanish
+monarchs have fortified themselves in turn; but Time at last
+is conqueror, and one visits the dismantled castle only to forget
+all about it in the grandeur of the view. From the east
+side of the <i>Zocodovér</i> soars the arch on whose summit used to
+stand the <i>Santisimo Cristo del Sangre</i>, before whom the Corpus
+train did reverence. And here in the centre blazed that
+momentous bonfire which was to settle the strife between the
+old Toledan liturgy and the new ritual of Rome; but the
+impartial elements honored both the Prayer Books placed
+upon the fagots, the wind wafting to a place of safety the
+Roman breviary, while the flames drew back from the other,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span>
+with the result that the primitive rite is still preserved in an
+especial chapel of the cathedral.</p>
+
+<p>A glorious <i>plaza</i>, famed by Cervantes, loved by Lope de
+Vega, but now how dim and shabby! On the house-fronts
+once so gayly colored, the greens have faded to yellows, the
+reds to pinks, and the pinks to browns. The awning spread
+along the route of the procession is fairly checkered with a
+miscellany of patches. I pass the compliments of the day
+with a smiling peasant woman, whose husband, a striking
+color-scheme in maroon blanket, azure trousers, russet stockings,
+and soiled gray sandals, offers me his seat on the stone
+bench beside her. But I am bound on my errand, and they
+bid me "Go with God." I select a trusty face in a shop
+doorway and ask if I can rent standing room in the balcony
+above. Mine honest friend puts his price a trifle high to give
+him a margin for the expected bargaining, but I scorn to
+haggle on a day when I am short of money, and merely
+stipulate, with true Spanish propriety, that no gentlemen shall
+be admitted. This makes an excellent impression on the
+proprietor, who shows me up a winding stair with almost
+oppressive politeness. A little company of ladies, with lace
+mantillas drooping from their graceful heads, welcome me
+with that courteous cordiality which imparts to the slightest
+intercourse with the Spanish people (barring pickpockets) a
+flavor of fine pleasure. Because I am the last arrival and
+have the least claim, they insist on giving me the best place
+on the best balcony and are untiring in their explanations of
+all there is to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>The procession is already passing&mdash;civil guards, buglers,
+drummers, flower wreaths borne aloft, crosses of silver and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span>
+crosses of gold, silken standards wrought with cunning embroideries.
+But now there come a sudden darkness, a gust
+of wind, and dash of rain. The ranks of <i>cofradias</i> try in
+vain to keep their candles burning, the pupils from the colleges
+of the friars, with shining medals hung by green cords about
+their necks, peep roguishly back at the purple-stoled dignitary
+in a white wig, over whom an anxious friend from the street
+is trying to hold an umbrella. The Jesuit <i>seminaristas</i> bear
+themselves more decorously, the tonsures gleaming like silver
+coins on their young heads. The canons lift their red robes
+from the wet, and even bishops make some furtive efforts
+to protect their gold-threaded chasubles. Meanwhile the
+people, that spectral throng of witches, serfs, feudal retainers,
+and left-overs from the Arabian Nights, press closer and
+closer, audaciously wrapping themselves from the rain in the
+rich old tapestries of France and Flanders, which have been
+hung along both sides of the route from a queer framework
+of emerald-bright poles and bars. The dark, wild, superstitious
+faces, massed and huddled together, peer out more uncannywise
+than ever from under these precious stuffs which
+brisk soldiers, with green feather brushes in their caps, as if
+to enable them to dust themselves off at short notice, are
+already taking down.</p>
+
+<p>All the church bells of the city are chiming solemnly, and
+the splendid <i>custodia</i>, "the most beautiful piece of plate in the
+world," a treasure of filigree gold and jewels, enshrining the
+Host, draws near. It is preceded by a bevy of lovely children,
+not dressed, as at Granada, to represent angels, but as knights
+of chivalry. Their dainty suits of red and blue, slashed and
+puffed and trimmed with lace, flash through the silvery mist
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span>
+of rain. Motherly voices from the balconies call to them to
+carry their creamy caps upside down to shield the clustered
+plumes. Their little white sandals and gaiters splash merrily
+through the mud.</p>
+
+<p>A flamingo gleam across the slanting rain announces
+Cardinal Sancha, behind whom acolytes uplift a thronelike
+chair of crimson velvet and gold. Then follow ranks of
+taper-bearing soldiers, and my friends in the balcony call
+proudly down to different officers, a son, a husband, a blushing
+<i>novio</i>, whom they present to me then and there. The officers
+bow up and I bow down, while at this very moment comes
+that tinkling of silver bells which would, I had supposed,
+strike all Catholic Spaniards to their knees. It is perhaps too
+much to expect the people below to kneel in the puddles, but
+the vivacious chatter in the balconies never ceases, and the
+ladies beside me do not even cross themselves.</p>
+
+<p>The parade proceeds, a gorgeous group in wine-colored
+costume carrying great silver maces before the civic representation.
+The governor of the province is pointed out to me
+as a count of high degree, but in the instant when my awed
+glance falls upon him he gives a monstrous gape unbecoming
+even to nobility. The last of the spruce cadets, who close the
+line, have hardly passed when the thrifty housewife beseeches
+our aid in taking in out of the rain her scarlet balcony hanging,
+which proves to be the canopy of her best bed. But the
+sun is shining forth again when I return to the street to
+follow the procession into the cathedral.</p>
+
+<p>Already this gleam of fair weather has filled the <i>Calle de
+Comercio</i> with festive señoritas, arrayed in white mantillas and
+Manila shawls in honor of the bull-fight. Shops have been
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span>
+promptly opened for a holiday sale of the Toledo specialties&mdash;arabesqued
+swords and daggers, every variety of Damascened
+wares, and marchpane in form of mimic hams, fish,
+and serpents. The Toledo steel was famous in Shakespeare's
+day, even in the mouths of rustic dandies, whose geographical
+education had been neglected. When the clever rogue,
+Brainworm, in one of Jonson's comedies, would sell Stephen,
+the "country gull," a cheap rapier, he urges, "'Tis a most
+pure Toledo," and Stephen replies according to his folly, "I
+had rather it were a Spaniard." But onward is the glorious
+church, with its symmetric tower, whose spire wears a threefold
+crown of thorns. The exterior walls are hung, on this
+one day of the year, with wondrous tapestries that Queen
+Isabella knew. An army of beggars obstructs the crowd,
+which presses in, wave upon wave, through the deep, rich
+portals in whose ornamentation whole lifetimes have carved
+themselves away.</p>
+
+<p>Within this sublime temple, unsurpassed in Gothic art,
+where every pavement slab is worn by knees more than by
+footsteps, where every starry window has thrown its jewel
+lights on generations of believers, one would almost choose to
+dwell forever. One looks half enviously at recumbent alabaster
+bishops and kneeling marble knights, even at dim grotesques,
+who have rested in the heart of that grave beauty, in
+that atmosphere of prayer and chant, so long. Let these
+stone figures troop out into the troubled streets and toil awhile,
+and give the rest of us a chance to dream. But the multitude,
+which has knelt devoutly while <i>Su Majestad</i> was being borne
+into the <i>Capilla Mayor</i>, comes pouring down the nave to
+salute the stone on which&mdash;ah me!&mdash;on which the Virgin
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span>
+set her blessed foot December 18, 666, when she alighted in
+Toledo cathedral to present the champion of the Immaculate
+Conception, St. Ildefonso, with a chasuble of celestial tissue.
+The gilded, turreted shrine containing that consecrated block
+towers almost to the height of the nave. A grating guards it
+from the devout, who can only touch it with their finger tips,
+which then they kiss. Hundreds, with reverend looks, stand
+waiting their turn&mdash;children, peasants, bull-fighters, decorated
+officers, refined ladies, men of cultured faces. The sound of
+kissing comes thick and fast. Heresy begins to beat in my
+blood.</p>
+
+<p>Not all that heavenward reach of columns and arches, not
+that multitudinous charm of art, can rid the imagination of a
+granite weight. I escape for a while to the purer church
+without, with its window-gold of sunshine and lapis-lazuli
+roof. When the mighty magnet draws me back again, those
+majestic aisles are empty, save for a tired sacristan or two,
+and the silence is broken only by a monotone of alternate
+chanting, from where, in the <i>Capilla Mayor</i>, two priests
+keep watch with <i>El Señor</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"He will be here all the afternoon," says the sacristan,
+"and nothing can be shown; but if you will come back to-morrow
+I will arrange for you to see even Our Lady's robes
+and gems."</p>
+
+<p>Come back! I felt myself graying to a shadow already.
+Of course I longed to see again that marvellous woodwork of
+the choir stalls, with all the conquest of Granada carved amid
+columns of jasper and under alabaster canopies, but I was
+smothered in a multitude of ghosts. They crowded from every
+side,&mdash;nuns, monks, soldiers, tyrants, magnificent archbishops,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span>
+the martyred Leocadia, passionate Roderick, weeping
+Florinda, grim Count Julian, "my Cid," Pedro the Cruel,
+those five thousand Christian nobles and burghers of Toledo,
+slain, one by one, at the treacherous feast of Abderrahman,
+those hordes of flaming Jews writhing amid the Inquisition
+fagots. I had kept my Corpus. I had seen the greatest of
+all <i>autos sacramentales</i>, Calderon's masterpiece, "Life is a
+Dream."</p>
+
+<p>"On a single one of the Virgin's gold-wrought mantles,"
+coaxed the sacristan, "are eighty-five thousand large pearls
+and as many sapphires, amethysts, and diamonds. I will
+arrange for you to see everything, when Our Lord is gone
+away."</p>
+
+<p>But no. I am a little particular about treasures. Since
+Toledo has lost the emerald table of King Solomon and that
+wondrous copy of the Psalms written upon gold leaf in a fluid
+made of melted rubies, I will not trouble the seven canons to
+unlock the seven doors of the cathedral sacristy. Let the
+Madonna enjoy her wealth alone. I have <i>pesetas</i> enough for
+my ticket to Madrid.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XIX</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE TERCENTENARY OF VELÁZQUEZ</p>
+
+<div class="poem p2">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"It is a sombre and a weeping sky</p>
+<p class="i2">That lowers above thee now, unhappy Spain;</p>
+<p class="i2">Thy 'scutcheon proud is dashed with dimming rain;</p>
+<p>Uncertain is thy path and deep thy sigh.</p>
+<p>All that is mortal passes; glories die;</p>
+<p class="i2">This hour thy destiny allots thee pain;</p>
+<p class="i2">But for the worker of thy woes remain</p>
+<p>Those retributions slowly forged on high.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Put thou thy hope in God; what once thou wert</p>
+<p class="i2">Thou yet shalt be by labor of thy sons</p>
+<p class="i4"> Patient and true, with purpose to atone;</p>
+<p class="i2">And though the laurels of the loud-voiced guns</p>
+<p>Are not with us to-day, this balms our hurt&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Cervantes and Velázquez are our own."</p>
+
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Duke of Rivas</span>: <i>For the Tercentenary</i>.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span>he celebration, as planned, was comparatively simple,
+but enthusiasm grew with what it fed upon. The
+Knights of Santiago held the first place upon the
+programme, for into that high and exclusive order the artist
+had won entry by special grace of Philip IV. Even Spain
+has been affected by the modern movement for the destruction
+of traditions, and certain erudite meddlers, who have been
+delving in the State archives, declare that there is no truth
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span>
+in the following story, which, nevertheless, everybody has
+to tell.</p>
+
+<p>The legend runs that Velázquez became a knight of
+St. James by a royal compliment to the painter of <i>Las
+Meninas</i>. This picture, which seems no picture, but life
+itself, eternizes a single instant of time in the palace of
+Philip IV, that one instant before the fingers of the little
+Infanta have curved about the cup presented by her kneeling
+maid, before the great, tawny, half-awakened hound has
+decided to growl remonstrance under the teasing foot of the
+dwarf, before the reflected faces of king and queen have
+glided from the mirror, that fleeting instant while yet the
+courtier, passing down the gallery into the garden, turns on
+the threshold for a farewell smile, while yet the green velvet
+sleeve of the second dwarf, ugliest of all pet monsters, brushes
+the fair silken skirts of the daintiest of ladies-in-waiting, while
+yet the artist, so much more royal than royalty, flashes his
+dark-eyed glance upon the charming group.</p>
+
+<p>But if Velázquez looks prouder than a king, Philip proved
+himself here no uninspired painter. Asked if he found the
+work complete, the monarch shook his head, and, catching up
+the brush, marked the red cross of St. James on the pictured
+breast of the artist. So says the old wives' tale. At all
+events, in this way or another, the honor was conferred, with
+the result that on the three hundredth birthday of Velázquez,
+June 6, 1899, dukes and counts and marquises flocked to the
+Church of <i>Las Señoras Comendadoras</i>, where the antique Gregorian
+mass was chanted for the repose of their comrade's soul.</p>
+
+<p>By the latest theology, the "Master of all Good Workmen"
+would not have waited for this illustrious requiem
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span>
+before admitting the painter to "an æon or two" of rest, but
+the Knights of Santiago have not yet accepted Kipling as
+their Pope.</p>
+
+<p>On the afternoon of the same day the <i>Sala de Velázquez</i>
+was inaugurated in the <i>Museo del Prado</i>, taking, with additions,
+the room formerly known as the <i>Sala de la Reina Isabel</i>, long the
+<i>Salon Carré</i> of Madrid, where Raphaels, Titians, Del Sartos,
+Dürers, Van Dycks, Correggios, and Rembrandts kept the
+Spanish Masters company. Portico and halls were adorned
+in honor of the occasion; the bust of Velázquez, embowered
+in laurels, myrtles, and roses, was placed midway in the Long
+Gallery, fronting the door of his own demesne; but the crown
+of the <i>fiesta</i> consisted in the new and far superior arrangement
+of his pictures. The royal family and chief nobility,
+the Ministers of Government, the Diplomatic Corps, and
+delegations of foreign artists made a brilliant gathering. The
+address, pronounced by an eminent critic, reviewed what are
+known as the three styles of Velázquez. Never was art lecture
+more fortunate, for this <i>Museo</i>, holding as it does more than
+half the extant works of the great realist, with nearly all his
+masterpieces, enabled the speaker to illustrate every point
+from the original paintings. A rain of aristocratic poems
+followed, for a Spaniard is a lyrist born, and turns from prose
+to verse as easily as he changes his cuffs. As Monipodio says,
+in one of Cervantes' "Exemplary Tales": "A man has but to
+roll up his shirt-sleeves, set well to work, and he may turn off
+a couple of thousand verses in the snapping of a pair of scissors."
+These Dukes of Parnassus and Counts of Helicon did
+homage to the painter in graceful stanzas, not without many an
+allusion to Spain's troubled present. If only, as one sonneteer
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span>
+suggested, the soldiers of <i>Las Lanzas</i> had marched out from
+their great gilt frame and gone against the foe! A programme
+of old-time music was rendered, and therewith the
+<i>Sala de Velázquez</i> was declared open.</p>
+
+<p>To this, as to all galleries and monuments under State
+control, the public was invited free of charge for the week to
+come. The response was appreciative, gentility, soldiery,
+ragamuffins, bevies of schoolgirls with notebooks, and families
+of foreigners with opera glasses grouping themselves in
+picturesque variety, day after day, before the art treasures of
+Madrid, while beggars sat in joyful squads on the steps of the
+museums, collecting the fees which the doorkeepers refused.</p>
+
+<p>During these seven days, artistic and social festivals in
+honor of Velázquez abounded, not only in Madrid, but
+throughout Spain. Palma must needs get up, with photographs
+and the like, a Velázquez exposition, and Seville,
+insisting on her mother rights, must arrange a belated funeral,
+with mass and sermon and a tomb of laurels and flowers,
+surmounted by brushes, palette, and the cloak and helmet of
+the Order of Santiago. In the capital the <i>Circulo de Bellas
+Artes</i> sumptuously breakfasted the artists from abroad. The
+dainties were spiced with speeches, guitars, ballet, gypsy
+songs and dances, congratulatory telegrams, and a letter posted
+from Parnassus by Don Diego himself. Two valuable new
+books on Velázquez suddenly appeared in the shop windows,
+and such periodicals as <i>La Ilustración</i>, <i>Blanco y Negro</i>, <i>La Vida
+Literaria</i>, and <i>El Nuevo Mundo</i> vied with one another in
+illustrated numbers, while even the one-cent dailies came
+out with specials devoted to Velázquez biography and criticism.
+The Academy of San Fernando rendered a musical
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span>
+programme of Velázquez date, the Queen Regent issued five
+hundred invitations to an orchestral concert in the Royal
+Palace, and there was talk, which failed to fructify, of a
+grand masquerade ball, where the costumes should be copied
+from the Velázquez paintings and the dances should be those
+stepped by the court of Philip IV.</p>
+
+<p>The closing ceremony of the week was the unveiling of
+the new statue of Velázquez. Paris owes to Fremiot an
+equestrian statue of the painter, who, like Shakespeare in his
+Paris statue, is made to look very like a Frenchman, but the
+horse is of the most spirited Spanish type. A younger Velázquez
+may be seen in Seville, at home among the orange trees,
+and the <i>Palacio de la Biblioteca y Museos Nacionales</i> in Madrid
+shows a statue from the hand of Garcia. Still another, an
+arrogant, striding figure, was standing in the studio of Benlliure,
+ready for its journey to the Paris exposition. The
+tercentenary statue, by Marinas, is also true to that haughty
+look of Velázquez. It represents him seated, brush and
+palette in hand, the winds lifting from his ears those long,
+clustering falls of hair, as if to let him hear the praises of
+posterity. Little he cares for praises! That artist's look
+sees nothing but his task.</p>
+
+<p>The unveiling took place late on Wednesday afternoon,
+in front of the <i>Museo del Prado</i>, where the statue stands.
+A turquoise sky and a light breeze put all the world in happy
+humor. The long façade of the <i>Museo</i> was hung with beautiful
+tapestries. Handsome medallions bore the names of painters
+associated in one way or another with Velázquez&mdash;Herrera
+el Viejo, his first master in Seville; Pacheco, his second
+Sevillian teacher and his father-in-law; Luis Tristan of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span>
+Toledo, for whom he had an enthusiastic admiration; El
+Greco, that startling mannerist, whose penetrating portraiture
+of faces, even whose extraordinary effects in coloring were
+not without influence on the younger man; Zurbarán, his
+almost exact contemporary, enamored no less than Velázquez
+himself of the new realism emanating from the great and
+terrible Ribera; Murillo, whose developing genius the favored
+Court painter, too high-hearted for envy, protected and encouraged,
+and Alonzo Cano, the impetuous artist of Granada,
+to whom, too, Velázquez was friend and benefactor.</p>
+
+<p>Spanish colors and escutcheons were everywhere. In
+decorated tribunes sat the royal family and the choicest of
+Madrid society, with the members of the <i>Circulo de Bellas
+Artes</i>, who were the hosts of the day, and with distinguished
+guests from the provinces and abroad. Romero Robledo, as
+President of the Society of Fine Arts, welcomed the Queen,
+closing his brief address with the following words: "Never,
+señora, will your exalted sentiments be able to blend with
+those of the Spanish people in nobler hour than this, commemorating
+him who is forever a living national glory
+and who receives enthusiastic testimony of admiration from all
+the civilized world." Their Majesties drew upon the cords,
+the two silken banners parted, and the statue was revealed to the
+applauding multitude. While the royal group congratulated
+the sculptor, the ambassadors of Austria and Germany laid
+magnificent wreaths, fashioned with a due regard to the
+colors of their respective nations, at the feet of Velázquez.
+The eminent French artists, Carolus Duran and Jean Paul
+Laurens, bore a crown from France and delighted the
+audience by declaring that "the painter of the Spanish king
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span>
+was himself the king of painters." Nothing since the war
+had gladdened Spain more than the presence and praises of
+these two famous Parisians; the reverence of Madrid for
+Paris is profound. The tributes of Rome and London excited
+far less enthusiasm. Still more wreaths, and more and more,
+were deposited by a procession of delegates from the art
+societies of all Spain, headed by Seville, the bands playing
+merrily meanwhile, until that stately form of bronze seemed
+to rise from out a hill of laurels, ribbons, and flowers.</p>
+
+<p>This is the first Velázquez celebration which has had universal
+recognition. The painter was hardly known to Europe
+at large until the day of Fernando VII, who was induced by
+his art-loving wife, Isabel of Braganza, to send the pictures
+from the royal palaces, all those accumulated treasures of the
+Austrian monarchs, to the empty building, designed for a natural
+history museum, in the <i>Prado</i>. This long, low edifice is
+now one of the most glorious shrines of art in the world. It
+is a collection of masterpieces, showing the splendors that are
+rather than the processes by which they came to be. There
+is only one Fra Angelico, but there are ten Raphaels and four
+times as many Titians. In the Netherlands, no less than in
+Italy, the Spanish sway gathered rich spoils. There are a
+score of Van Dycks, threescore of those precious little canvases
+by Teniers, while as for Rubens, he blazes in some
+sixty-four Christian saints, heathen goddesses, and human sinners,
+all with a strong family resemblance. But although the
+Italian and Flemish schools are so magnificently represented,
+the wealth of Spanish painting is what overwhelms the visitor.
+Here are four rooms filled with the works of Goya&mdash;whose
+bones, by the way, arrived in Madrid from France for final
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span>
+sepulture a few days before the celebration. Little more heed
+was paid to this advent than to that of the United States
+ambassador, who, it may be noted, was not presented to the
+Queen until the Velázquez jubilee was well over. But as for
+Goya, this unnoised entry was appropriate enough, for he,
+whom De Amicis has called "the last flame-colored flash of
+Spanish genius," used, during his later life, to make the long
+journey from Bordeaux to Madrid every week for no other
+purpose than to gloat upon the Sunday bull-fight, coming and
+going without speech or handshake, only a pair of fierce,
+bloodthirsty eyes. This fiery Aragonese painted bull-fights,
+battles, executions, and Inquisition tortures with blacks that
+make one shudder and reds that make one sick. He painted
+the brutal side of pleasure as well as of pain, filling broad canvases
+with dancing, feasting peasants&mdash;canvases that smell
+of wine and garlic, and all but send out a roar of drunken song
+and laughter.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_351" id="i_351"></a>
+<img src="images/i_351.jpg" width="420" height="584" alt="Gypsy Tenants of an Arab Palace" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Gypsy Tenants of an Arab Palace</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Goya lived in the day of Charles IV, whose court painter
+he was, and against whom this natural caricaturist must have
+borne a special grudge, so sarcastic are his portraits of the
+royal family; but his genius is allied to that of Velázquez's
+powerful contemporary, Ribera. The <i>Museo del Prado</i> has
+abundant material for a Ribera <i>sala</i>, since it possesses no less
+than fifty-eight of his works, but the official put in charge of
+it would probably go mad. The paintings are mercifully
+scattered and, well for such of us as may be disposed to
+flight, can be recognized from afar by their dusks and pallors&mdash;ascetic
+faces gleaming out from sable backgrounds,
+wasted limbs of naked saints tracing livid lines in the gloom
+of caverns, and, against an atmosphere dark as the frown of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span>
+God, the ghastly flesh of tortured martyrs, and dead Christs
+drooping stiffly to the linen winding-sheet. One is appalled
+at the entrance of the Long Gallery by the two vast, confronting
+canvases of Prometheus, less a Titan than a convulsion
+of Titanic agony, and of Ixion, crushed not only beneath the
+wheel, but under that cold, tremendous blackness of hell made
+actual. Far down one side of the hall they stretch, those
+paintings upon paintings of torment, emaciation, the half-crazed
+visionary, and the revolting corpse. But there is no
+escape from Ribera, he who</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="i14">"tainted</p>
+<p>His brush with all the blood of all the sainted."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Turning back to the Spanish cabinets that open from the
+vestibule we come upon a piteous San Sebastian, the blanched
+young form bound fast and already nailed by arrows to the
+ebon-hued trunk of a leafless tree. Descending the staircase
+to the <i>Sala de Alfonso XII</i>, we must pass an attenuated old
+anchoress, whose sunken face and praying hands have the
+very tint of the skulls that form the only ornaments, almost
+the only furniture, of her dreary cave. We may as well
+brave the terrors of this first half of the Long Gallery, where
+El Greco's livid greens will at least divert attention, and
+where, opposite the collection of Riberas, wait the gracious
+Murillos to comfort and uplift.</p>
+
+<p>Yet Ribera, ruffian though he was, is not solely and exclusively
+a nightmare artist. He could give sweetest and
+most tranquil color when he chose, as his "Jacob's Dream"
+here testifies, with the dim gold of its angel-peopled ladder;
+and for all the spirit of bigotry that clouds his work, there is
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span>
+Catholic fervor in these pictures and masterly truthfulness up
+to the point where the senses need the interpretation of the
+soul. There is more than anatomy, too, in these starved
+old saints; there is the dread of judgment. Ribera depicts
+supernatural terror, where Goya shows the animal shock of
+death.</p>
+
+<p>Another Spanish phase appears in Zurbarán. In his most
+effective work we have not Goya's blood color, nor Ribera's
+blacks, nor the celestial violets of Juan de Joanes, but the
+grays of the monastic renunciation, the twilight that is as far
+from rapture as from anguish. His gowned, cowled, corded
+figures pass before the eye in the pale tints of the cloister.
+The shadow of cathedral walls is over them. The <i>Prado</i> has
+been strangely indifferent to Zurbarán, who is far more fully
+represented in the galleries of Andalusia; but it has in its
+baker's dozen two important and characteristic works, both
+visions of San Pedro Nolasco. In one the entranced saint,
+whose figure might be carved in stone,&mdash;stone on which ray
+from stained-glass window never fell,&mdash;gazes upon an angel,
+whose vesture, crossed by a dark green scarf, is flushed with
+the faintest rose. In the second the sombre cell is illuminated
+for an instant by the apparition of St. Peter the Apostle,
+head downward, as in his crucifixion, his naked form dazzling
+against a vague redness of light like a memory of pain.</p>
+
+<p>One glance at a wall aglow with Madonna blues reminds
+us that Spanish sacred art does not culminate in Ribera nor in
+Zurbarán. The Christian faith has had almost as pure,
+poetic, and spiritual an utterance in the land of the Inquisition
+as in Italy itself. This is not Murillo's hour; it is the
+triumph of Velázquez and the realists that Spain is celebrating
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span>
+to-day; but none the less it is a joy of joys to walk
+by the Murillos on the way to the laurelled bust and the
+crowded <i>sala</i>. These are the pictures that are rather in
+heaven than earth. Where Mary, divine in her virginal
+loveliness, is not upborne among the golden clouds, the radiant-plumed
+angel kneels on her cottage floor and the wings of the
+descending dove beat whiteness through the air. Here is
+realism and more. The Mater Dolorosa has those luminous
+sea-blue eyes of Andalusia, but they tell of holy tears. The
+Crucified is no mere sufferer, but the suffering Son of God,
+and the crown of thorns, while dripping blood, haloes his
+brows with the redemption of the world.</p>
+
+<p>The genius of Velázquez dwelt not above the earth, but
+upon it, in the heart of its most brilliant life. He was no
+dreamer of dreams; he "painted the thing as he saw it,"
+and with what sure eyes he saw, and with what a firm and
+glowing brush he painted! His <i>sala</i> surrounds us at once
+with an atmosphere of brightness, beauty, elegance, variety,
+delight. His work is so superb, so supreme, that, like perfect
+manners, it puts even the humblest of us at our ease. We
+are not artists, but we seem to understand Velázquez.</p>
+
+<p>Of course we don't. No knight of the palette would
+admit it for an instant. What can the rabble know of the
+mysterious compoundings and touchings from which sprang
+these splendors of color that outshine the centuries? Young
+men with streaming hair are continually escorting awed-looking
+señoras about the room, discoursing with dramatic
+vehemence on the "periods" of the Master's work. As a
+youth at Seville, they explain, Velázquez had of necessity
+taken religious subjects, for the Church was the chief patron
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span>
+of art in Andalusia; but his natural bent even then displayed
+itself in tavern studies and sketches of popular types, as the
+"Water-seller of Seville" and the "Old Woman Frying
+Eggs." Of his early religious pieces the archbishop's palace
+of Seville keeps "San Ildefonso Receiving the Chasuble from
+the Hands of the Virgin," and the National Gallery of London
+secured "Christ in the House of Martha," but "The Adoration
+of the Kings" hangs here at our right as we enter the
+Velázquez <i>sala</i>. A little stiff, say these accomplished critics,
+with a suggestion of the dry manner of his master, Pacheco,
+but bear you in mind that this is the production of a youth
+of twenty. It is obvious, too, that Andalusians, not celestial
+visions, served him as models.</p>
+
+<p>A longing to see the Tintorets and Titians, those starry
+treasures of the dark Escorial, drew him to Madrid at twenty-three.
+Here he was fortunate in finding friends, who brought
+his portraits to the notice of Philip IV, a dissolute boy ruled
+by the Count-Duke Olivares. Youth inclines to youth.
+Velázquez was appointed painter to the king at the same
+salary as that paid to the royal barber, and henceforth he had
+no care in life but to paint. And how he painted! His first
+portraits of Philip show a blond young face, with high brow,
+curled mustache, the long Hapsburg chin, and eyes that hint
+strange secrets. Again and again and again Velázquez traced
+those Austrian features, while the years stamped them ever
+more deeply with lines of pride and sin&mdash;a tragic face in the
+end as it was ill-omened in the beginning. But the masterpiece
+of Velázquez's twenties is "The Drunkards," a scene
+of peasant revelry where the young are gloriously tipsy and
+the old are on the point of maudlin tears. Here it is, <i>Los</i>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span>
+<i>Borrachos</i>, farther to the right. In looking on it one remembers
+that a contemporary realist, in the Protestant island
+which has often been so sharp a thorn in Spain's side,
+likewise crowned the achievement of his springtime by a
+group of topers, Prince Hal and Falstaff and their immortal
+crew.</p>
+
+<p>Not the influence of Rubens, who spent nine months in
+Spain in 1628-29, painting like the wind, nor a visit to the
+Holy Land of Raphael and Michael Angelo could make
+Velázquez other than he was. This "Vulcan's Forge,"
+which we see here, painted in Italy, is mythological only in
+the title. Back he came at the royal summons, to paint more
+portraits&mdash;Philip over and over, on foot, on horseback, half
+length, full length, all lengths; the winsome Infante Baltasar,
+as a toddling baby with his dwarf, as a gallant little soldier,
+hunter, horseman, and in the princely dignity of fourteen,
+when he had but three more years to live; the sad French
+queen, the king's brother, the magnificent Olivares, the
+sculptor Montañes, counts, dukes, buffoons. Within these
+twenty years Velázquez produced his two most famous works
+of religious tenor&mdash;"Christ Bound to the Column," a "captain
+jewel" of the London National Gallery, and that majestic
+"Crucifixion" before which Spaniards in the <i>Prado</i> bare
+their heads. But the crown of this period is <i>Las Lanzas</i>, or
+"The Surrender of Breda," which holds the place of honor
+on the wall fronting the door. It is vivid past all praise, and
+nobler than any battle scene in its beauty of generosity. The
+influence of Italy had told especially on Velázquez's backgrounds.
+The bright, far landscapes opening out beyond his
+portrayed figures, especially those on horseback,&mdash;and his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span>
+horses are as lifelike as his dogs,&mdash;give to the <i>sala</i> an exhilarating
+effect of free space and wide horizons.</p>
+
+<p>In 1650 he made his second visit to Rome, where he portrayed
+Pope Innocent X. Nine years of glorious work in
+Spain remained to him. Still he painted the king, even at
+his royal prayers, for which there was full need, and the young
+Austrian queen, who had succeeded the dead mother of the
+dead Baltasar. On that happy left-hand wall of the <i>sala</i>
+shines, in all its vigorous grace, the "Mercury and Argos,"
+but if the hundred eyes of Argos are ready to close, their place
+is supplied by the terrible scrutiny of a row of portraits,
+embarrassing the boldest of us out of note-taking. How those
+pairs of pursuing black eyes, sage and keen and mocking,
+stare the starers out of countenance! The series of pet
+dwarfs is here, old Æsop, and Menippus, and the sly buffoon,
+"Don Juan of Austria." Of these two wonder-works, <i>Las
+Meninas</i>, "The Maids of Honor," has a room to itself, and
+thus <i>Las Hilanderas</i>, "The Weavers," becomes the central
+magnet of this returning wall. A saint picture and even a
+coronation of the Virgin cannot draw the crowds from before
+this ultimate triumph of the actual&mdash;this factory interior,
+where a group of peasant women fashion tapestries, while a
+broad shaft of sunshine works miracles in color.</p>
+
+<p>And this, too, is Spanish. Cervantes is as true a facet of
+many-sided Spain as Calderon, and Velázquez as Murillo.
+With all the national propensity to emotion and exaggeration,
+Spaniards are a truth-seeing people. The popular <i>coplas</i> are
+more often satiric than sentimental. They like to bite through
+to the kernel of fact, even when it is bitter. Velázquez, with
+his rich and noble realism, is of legitimate descent.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XX</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">CHORAL GAMES OF SPANISH CHILDREN</p>
+
+<div class="poem p2">
+<p class="o1">"Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,</p>
+<p>She turns to favor and to prettiness."</p>
+
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>: <i>Hamlet</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">O</span>n one of my last afternoons in Madrid, I visited again my
+early haunts in the <i>Buen Retiro</i>, for a farewell sight of the
+children there at play. After all, it is one of the prettiest
+things to be seen in Spain, these graceful, passionate, dramatic
+little creatures dancing in tireless circles, and piping those
+songs that every <i>niña</i> knows, without being able to tell when
+or where or from whom she learned them. Only very small
+boys, as a rule, join the girls in these fairy rings, though occasionally
+I found a troop of urchins marching to a lusty chorus
+of their own. One, which I heard in Madrid, but whose
+parrots are more suggestive of Seville, runs something like
+this:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"In the street they call Toledo</p>
+<p class="i1">Is a famous school for boys,</p>
+<p>Chundarata, chundarata,</p>
+<p class="i1">Chundarata, chún-chún;</p>
+<p>Where all we lads are going</p>
+<p class="i1">With a most heroic noise,</p>
+<p>Chundarata, chundarata,</p>
+<p class="i1">Chundarata, chún-chún.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span></p>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"And the parrots on their perches,</p>
+<p class="i1">They mock us as we go,</p>
+<p>Chundarata, chundarata,</p>
+<p class="i1">Chundarata, chún-chún.</p>
+<p>'I hate my school,' whines Polly,</p>
+<p class="i1">'For my master beats me so,'</p>
+<p>Chundarata, chundarata,</p>
+<p class="i1">Chundarata, chún-chún."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Another, which came to me in fragments, is sung in playing
+soldier.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">
+"The Catalans are coming,</p>
+<p class="i1">Marching two by two.</p>
+<p>All who hear the drumming</p>
+<p class="i1">Tiptoe for a view.</p>
+<p class="i3">  Ay, ay!</p>
+<p class="i1">Tiptoe for a view.</p>
+<p>Red and yellow banners,</p>
+<p class="i1">Pennies very few.</p>
+<p class="i3">  Ay, ay!</p>
+<p class="i1">Pennies very few.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Red and yellow banners!</p>
+<p class="i1">The Moon comes out to see.</p>
+<p>If moons had better manners,</p>
+<p class="i1">She'd take me on her knee.</p>
+<p class="i3">  Ay, ay!</p>
+<p class="i1">Take me on her knee.</p>
+<p>She peeps through purple shutters,</p>
+<p class="i1">Would I were tall as she!</p>
+<p class="i3">  Ay, ay!</p>
+<p class="i1">Would I were tall as she!</p>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span></p>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Soldiers need not learn letters,</p>
+<p class="i1">Nor any schooly thing,</p>
+<p>But unless they mind their betters,</p>
+<p class="i1">In golden chains they'll swing.</p>
+<p class="i3">  Ay, ay!</p>
+<p class="i1">In golden chains they'll swing.</p>
+<p>Or sit in silver fetters,</p>
+<p class="i1">Presents from the King.</p>
+<p class="i3">  Ay, ay!</p>
+<p class="i1">Presents from the King."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>This ironic touch, so characteristically Spanish, reappears
+in many of the games, as in <i>A La Limón</i>, known throughout
+the Peninsula and the Antilles. I should expect to find it,
+too, in corners of Mexico, South America, the Philippines,
+wherever the Spanish oppressor has trod and the oppressor's
+children have sported in the sun. The little players, ranged
+in two rows, each row hand in hand, dance the one toward
+the other and retreat, singing responsively. With their last
+couplet, the children of the first line raise their arms, forming
+arches, and the children of the second line, letting go hands,
+dance under these arches as they respond.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>1.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"<i>A la limón, á la limón!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">All broken is our bright fountain.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>2.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"<i>A la limón, á la limón!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">Give orders to have it mended.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>1.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"<i>A la limón, á la limón!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">We haven't a bit of money.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+
+<p>2.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"<i>A la limón, á la limón!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">But we have money in plenty.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+
+<p>1.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"<i>A la limón, á la limón!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">What kind of money may yours be?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+
+<p>2.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"<i>A la limón, á la limón!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">Oh, ours is money of eggshells.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+
+<p>1.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"<i>A la limón, á la limón!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">An arch for the lords and ladies.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+
+<p>2.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"<i>A la limón, á la limón!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">Right merrily we pass under."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Another lyric dialogue, whose fun is spent on the lean
+purses of students and the happy-go-lucky life of Andalusia,
+must have originated since the overthrow, in 1892, of the
+leaning tower of Saragossa. The stanzas are sung alternately
+by two rows of children, advancing toward each other and
+retreating with a dancing step.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o2">1.  "In Saragossa</p>
+<p class="i1">&mdash;Oh, what a pity!&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i1">Has fallen the tower,</p>
+<p class="i1">Pride of the city.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o2">2.  "Fell it by tempest,</p>
+<p class="i1">Fairies or witches,</p>
+<p class="i1">The students will raise it,</p>
+<p class="i1">For students have riches.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o2">1.  "Call on the students,</p>
+<p class="i1">Call louder and louder!</p>
+<p class="i1">They've only two coppers</p>
+<p class="i1">To buy them a chowder.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o2">2.  "Chowder of students</p>
+<p class="i1">Is sweeter than honey,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span></p>
+<p class="i1">But the gay Andalusians</p>
+<p class="i1">Have plenty of money.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o2">1.  "The gay Andalusians</p>
+<p class="i1">Have fiddle and ballad,</p>
+<p class="i1">But only two coppers</p>
+<p class="i1">To buy them a salad.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o2">2.  "In Saragossa</p>
+<p class="i1">&mdash;Oh, what a pity!&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i1">Has fallen the tower,</p>
+<p class="i1">Pride of the city."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Unchildlike innuendoes pervade that curious game of
+many variants in which the priest and abbess play a leading
+part. Two children are chosen for these dignitaries, while
+the others call out the names of such flowers, fruits, or vegetables
+as each may decide to personate. "I'm a cabbage."
+"I'm a jasmine." "I'm a cherry." Then the little sinners
+kneel in a circle, crying:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"Through the door, up the stairs,</p>
+<p>On the floor, say your prayers!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>and chant some childish gibberish, during which no one must
+laugh on pain of a forfeit. After this, all sing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2-6">"The house of the priest it cracked like a cup.</p>
+<p class="i3">Half fell down and half stood up.</p>
+<p class="i3">Sir Priest, Sir Priest, now tell us aright,</p>
+<p class="i3">In whose house did you sleep last night?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="poem">
+<p><i>Priest.</i><span class="i2">With the rose slept I.</span></p>
+<p><i>Rose.</i><span class="i4">Fie, O fie!</span></p>
+<p class="i5">I never saw your tonsured head.</p>
+<p><i>Priest.</i>
+<span class="i2">Then with whom did you make your bed?</span></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span></p>
+<p><i>Rose.</i>
+<span class="i4">With the Pink.</span></p>
+<p><i>Pink.</i>
+<span class="i4">I should think!</span></p>
+<p class="i5">I never saw your petals red.</p>
+<p><i>Rose.</i>
+<span class="i2">Then with whom did you make your bed?</span></p>
+<p><i>Pink.</i>
+<span class="i4">With the lily.</span></p>
+<p><i>Lily.</i>
+<span class="i4">Don't be silly!</span></p>
+<p class="i5">I never heard your fragrant tread.</p>
+<p><i>Pink.</i>
+<span class="i2">Then with whom did you make your bed?</span></p>
+<p><i>Lily.</i>
+<span class="i4">With the priest.</span></p>
+<p><i>Priest.</i>
+<span class="i4">Little beast!</span></p>
+<p class="i5">If I went near you, may I fall dead!</p>
+<p><i>Lily.</i>
+<span class="i2">Then with whom did you make your bed?</span></p>
+<p><i>Priest.</i>
+<span class="i4">With the abbess, I.</span></p>
+<p><i>Abbess.</i>
+<span class="i4">Oh, you lie!"</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But this seems to be the conclusion of the game.</p>
+
+<p>The most of these choral songs, however, are sweet and
+innocent, concerned with the natural interests of childhood,
+as this:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The shepherdess rose lightly</p>
+<p class="i1">Larán&mdash;larán&mdash;larito,</p>
+<p>The shepherdess rose lightly</p>
+<p class="i1">From off her heather seat&mdash;O.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Her goats went leaping homeward,</p>
+<p class="i1">Larán&mdash;larán&mdash;larito,</p>
+<p>Her goats went leaping homeward</p>
+<p class="i1">On nimble little feet&mdash;O.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"With strong young hands she milked them,</p>
+<p class="i1">Larán&mdash;larán&mdash;larito,</p>
+<p>With strong young hands she milked them</p>
+<p class="i1">And made a cheese for treat&mdash;O.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The kitty watched and wondered,</p>
+<p class="i1">Larán&mdash;larán&mdash;larito,</p>
+<p>The kitty crept and pondered</p>
+<p class="i1">If it were good to eat&mdash;O.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The kitty sprang upon it,</p>
+<p class="i1">Larán&mdash;larán&mdash;larito,</p>
+<p>The kitty sprang upon it</p>
+<p class="i1">And made a wreck complete&mdash;O.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Scat, scat, you naughty kitty!</p>
+<p class="i1">Larán&mdash;larán&mdash;larito,</p>
+<p>Scat, scat, you naughty kitty!</p>
+<p class="i1">Are stolen cheeses sweet&mdash;O?"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The baby girls have a song of their own, which, as a
+blending of doll-play, gymnastics, music, mathematics, and
+religion, leaves little to be desired.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Oh, I have a dolly, and she is dressed in blue,</p>
+<p>With a fluff of satin on her white silk shoe,</p>
+<p>And a lace mantilla to make my dolly gay,</p>
+<p>When I take her dancing this way, this way, this way.</p>
+<p class="i10">[<i>Dances Dolly in time to the music.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i3-6">"2 and 2 are 4, 4 and 2 are 6,</p>
+<p class="i4">6 and 2 are 8, and 8 is 16,</p>
+<p class="i4">And 8 is 24, and 8 is 32!</p>
+<p class="i5">Thirty-two! Thirty-two!</p>
+<p class="i4">Blesséd souls, I kneel to you.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Kneels.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"When she goes out walking in her Manila shawl,</p>
+<p>My Andalusian dolly is quite the queen of all.</p>
+<p>Gypsies, dukes, and candy-men bow down in a row,</p>
+<p>While my dolly fans herself so and so and so.</p>
+<p class="i10">[<i>Fans Dolly in time to the music.</i>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i3-6">"2 and 2 are 4, 4 and 2 are 6,</p>
+<p class="i4">6 and 2 are 8, and 8 is 16,</p>
+<p class="i4">And 8 is 24, and 8 is 24!</p>
+<p class="i5">Twenty-four! Twenty-four!</p>
+<p class="i4">Blesséd souls, I rise once more."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>They have a number of bird-games, through which they
+flit and flutter with an airy grace that wings could hardly
+better. In one, the children form a circle, with "the little
+bird Pinta" in the centre. The chorus, dancing lightly
+around her, sings the first stanza, and Pinta, while passing
+about the circle to make her choice, sings the rest, with the
+suggested action. The child chosen becomes Pinta in turn.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o4"><i>Chorus.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"The little bird Pinta was poising</p>
+<p>On a scented green lemon-tree spray.</p>
+<p>She picked the leaf and the blossom,</p>
+<p>And chanted a roundelay.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o4"><i>Pinta.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Song in the land!</p>
+<p>While April is yet a newcomer,</p>
+<p class="i1">O mate of my summer,</p>
+<p class="i1">Give to me a hand now,</p>
+<p class="i1">Both hands I seek, O!</p>
+<p class="i1">Take a Spanish kiss, now,</p>
+<p class="i1">On the rosy cheek, O!"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Equally pretty and simple is the Andalusian play of "Little
+White Pigeons." The children form in two rows, which face
+each other some ten or twelve yards apart. One row sings
+the first stanza, dancing forward and slipping under the
+"golden arches" made by the lifted arms of the second row.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span>
+The second row sings and dances in turn, passing under the
+"silver arches" to Granada.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o2">1.  "Little white pigeons</p>
+<p class="i1">Are dreaming of Seville,</p>
+<p>Sun in the palm tree,</p>
+<p class="i1">Roses and revel.</p>
+<p>Lift up the arches,</p>
+<p class="i1">Gold as the weather.</p>
+<p>Little white pigeons</p>
+<p class="i1">Come flying together.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o2">2. "Little white pigeons</p>
+<p class="i1">Dream of Granada,</p>
+<p>Glistening snows on</p>
+<p class="i1">Sierra Nevada.</p>
+<p>Lift up the arches,</p>
+<p class="i1">Silver as fountains.</p>
+<p>Little white pigeons</p>
+<p class="i1">Fly to the mountains."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Spanish form of "Blindman's Buff" begins with "giving
+the pebble" to determine who shall be the Blind Hen. A
+child shuts in one hand the pebble and then presents both little
+fists to the other children passing in file. Each, while all sing
+the first stanza given below, softly touches first one of the
+hands, then the other, and finally slaps the one chosen. If
+this is empty, she passes on. If it holds the pebble, she must
+take it and be the one to offer the hands. The child who
+finally remains with the pebble in her possession, after all
+have passed, is the Blind Hen. As the game goes on, the
+children tease the Blind Hen, who, of course, is trying to
+catch them, by singing the second stanza given below.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">1</p>
+<p class="o1">"Pebble, O pebble!</p>
+<p>Where may it be?</p>
+<p>Pebble, O pebble!</p>
+<p>Come not to me!</p>
+<p>Tell me, my mother,</p>
+<p>Which hand to choose.</p>
+<p>This or the other?</p>
+<p>That I refuse,</p>
+<p>This hand I choose."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">2</p>
+<p class="o1">"She's lost her thimble,</p>
+<p>Little Blind Hen.</p>
+<p>Better be nimble!</p>
+<p>Try it again!</p>
+<p>Who'll bring a taper</p>
+<p>For the Blind Hen?</p>
+<p>Scamper and caper!</p>
+<p>Try it again!</p>
+<p>Try it again!"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Other games as well known to American children as
+"Blindman's Buff" are played by little Spaniards. They understand
+how to make the "hand-chair" and "drop the button,"
+only their button is usually a ring. "Hide the Handkerchief"
+carries with it the familiar cries of <i>hot</i> and <i>cold</i>, but our "Puss
+in the Corner" becomes "A Cottage to Rent."</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"'Cottage to rent?'</p>
+<p class="i1">'Try the other side,</p>
+<p>You see that this</p>
+<p class="i1">Is occupied.'"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span>
+In religious Seville the dialogue runs:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'A candle here?'</p>
+<p class="i1">'Over there.'</p>
+<p>'A candle here?'</p>
+<p class="i1">'Otherwhere.'</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'Candle, a candle!'</p>
+<p class="i1">'Loss on loss.'</p>
+<p>'Where is light?'</p>
+<p class="i1">'In the Holy Cross.'"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>For all these games, common to childhood the world over,
+have a rhyming element in the Peninsula, where, indeed, the
+ordinary intercourse of children often carries verses with it.
+For instance, our youngsters are content with cries of "Tell-tale!"
+and "Indian-giver!" but under similar provocation the
+fierce little nurslings of Catholic Spain will sing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+
+<p class="i-6">"Tell-tale! Tell-tale!</p>
+<p class="i1">In hell you'll be served right,</p>
+<p>All day fed on mouldy bread,</p>
+<p class="i1">And pounded all the night!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The other baby-curse is to the same effect:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"He who gives and takes again,</p>
+<p>Long in hell may he remain!</p>
+<p>He who gives and takes once more,</p>
+<p>May we hear him beat on the Devil's door!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Spanish form of tag has a touch of mythological grace.
+One child, chosen by lot, is the Moon, and must keep within
+the shadow. The others, Morning-stars, are safe only in the
+lighted spaces. The game is for the Morning-stars to run
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span>
+into the shadow, daring the Moon, who, if successful in catching
+one, becomes a Morning-star in turn, and passes out into
+the light, leaving the one caught to act the part of Moon.
+As the Morning-stars run in and out of the Moon's domain,
+they sing over and over the following stanza:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"O the Moon and the Morning-stars!</p>
+<p>O the Moon and the Morning-stars!</p>
+<p class="i2">Who dares to tread&mdash;O</p>
+<p class="i2">Within the shadow?"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Even in swinging, the little girls who push carry on a musical
+dialogue with the happy holder of the seat.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"'Say good-day, say good-day</p>
+<p>To Miss Fannie Fly-away!</p>
+<p>At the door the guests are met,</p>
+<p>But the table is not set.</p>
+<p>Put the stew upon the fire.</p>
+<p>Higher, higher, higher, higher!</p>
+<p>Now come down, down, down, down,</p>
+<p>Or the dinner will all burn brown.</p>
+<p>Soup and bread! soup and bread!</p>
+<p>I know a plot of roses red,</p>
+<p>Red as any hero's sword,</p>
+<p>Or the blood of our Holy Lord.</p>
+<p>Where art thou, on the wing?'</p>
+<p>'No, I'm sitting in the swing.'</p>
+<p>'Who're thy playmates way up there?'</p>
+<p>'Swallows skimming through the air.'</p>
+<p>'Down, come down! The stew will burn.</p>
+<p>Let the rest of us have a turn.'"</p>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span>
+In playing "Hide and Seek," the seeker must first sit in a
+drooping attitude with covered eyes, while the others stand
+about and threaten to strike him if he peeps:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Oil-cruet! Don't do it! <i>Ras con ras!</i></p>
+<p>Pepper-pot? Peep not! <i>Ras con ras!</i>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The menacing little fists are then suddenly withdrawn.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="i2">"No, no! Not a blow!</p>
+<p>But a pinch on the arm will do no harm.</p>
+<p class="i2">Now let the birdies take alarm!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And off scamper the hiders to their chosen nooks. When
+they are safely tucked away, the indispensable Mother,
+standing by, sings to the seeker that stanza which is his signal
+for the start:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"My little birds of the mountain</p>
+<p class="i1">Forth from the cage are flown.</p>
+<p>My little birds of the mountain</p>
+<p class="i1">Have left me all alone."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Spanish forfeit games are numerous and ingenious. In one
+of these, called "The Toilet," the players take the names of
+Mirror, Brush, Comb, Towel, Soap, and other essentials, including
+Jesus, Devil, and Man Alive, these last for exclamatory
+purposes. As each is mentioned by the leader of the game,
+he must rise instantly, on pain of forfeit, no matter how fast
+the speaker may be rattling on: "<i>Jesus!</i> When will that
+<i>devil</i> of a <i>maid</i> bring me my <i>powder</i> and <i>perfumes</i>?" Characteristic
+titles of other forfeit games are, "The Key of Rome,"
+"The Fan," "The Fountain," "I Saw my Love Last Night."
+The sentences vary from such gentle penalties as "The Caress
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span>
+of Cadiz" to the predicament of putting three feet on the
+wall at once.</p>
+
+<p>The choral verses are often mere nonsense.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Pipe away! pipe away!</p>
+<p>Let us play a little play!</p>
+<p>What will we play?</p>
+<p>We'll cut our hands away.</p>
+<p>Who cut them, who?</p>
+<p>Rain from out the blue.</p>
+<p>Where is the rain?</p>
+<p>Hens drank it up again.</p>
+<p>Hens? And where are they?</p>
+<p>Gone their eggs to lay.</p>
+<p>Who will eat them up?</p>
+<p>Friars when they sup.</p>
+<p>What do friars do?</p>
+<p>Sing 'gori-gori-goo.'"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Watching Spanish children, one may see two little girls,
+say White Rose and Sweetness, fly out into an open space,
+where White Rose carefully places the tips of her small shoes
+in touch with those of Sweetness. Then they clasp hands,
+fling their little bodies as far back as these conditions permit,
+and whirl round and round, singing lustily&mdash;until they are
+overcome by giddiness&mdash;the following rigmarole, or one of
+its variants:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="i-6">"Titirinela, if you please!</p>
+<p class="i1">Titirinela, bread and cheese:</p>
+<p>'What is your father's worshipful name?'</p>
+<p>'Sir Red-pepper, who kisses your hands.'</p>
+<p>'And how does he call his beautiful dame?'</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span>
+'Lady Cinnamon, at your commands.'</p>
+<p class="i1">Titirinela, toe to toe!</p>
+<p class="i1">Titirinela, round we go!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_374" id="i_374"></a>
+<img src="images/i_374.jpg" width="621" height="421" alt="From the Tower of Gold Down the Guadalquivír" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">From the Tower of Gold Down the Guadalquivír</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Even in some of their prettiest games the verses have a
+childish incoherence. Some dozen little girls form a circle,
+for instance, with the Butterfly in the centre. They lift her
+dress-skirt by the border, and hold it outspread about her.
+Another child, on the outside, runs around and around the
+ring, singing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Who are these chatterers?</p>
+<p class="i1">Oh, such a number!</p>
+<p>Not by day nor by night</p>
+<p class="i1">Do they let me slumber.</p>
+<p>They're daughters of the Moorish king,</p>
+<p class="i1">Who search the garden-close</p>
+<p>For lovely Lady Ana,</p>
+<p class="i1">The sweetest thing that grows.</p>
+<p>She's opening the jasmine</p>
+<p class="i1">And shutting up the rose."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Then the children suddenly lift their hands, which are
+holding Butterfly's frock, so as to envelop her head in the
+folds. The little singer outside continues:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Butterfly, butterfly,</p>
+<p class="i1">Dressed in rose-petals!</p>
+<p>Is it on candle-flame</p>
+<p class="i1">Butterfly settles?</p>
+<p>How many shirts</p>
+<p class="i1">Have you woven of rain?</p>
+<p>Weave me another</p>
+<p class="i1">Ere I call you again."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span>
+These songs are repeated seven times. Then comes another
+stanza:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Now that Lady Ana</p>
+<p class="i1">Walks in garden sweet,</p>
+<p>Gathering the roses</p>
+<p class="i1">Whose dew is on her feet,</p>
+<p>Butterfly, butterfly,</p>
+<p class="i1">Can you catch us? Try it, try!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>With this the circle breaks and scatters, while Butterfly,
+blinded as she is by the folds of her own skirt wrapped about
+her head, does her best to overtake some one, who shall then
+become her successor.</p>
+
+<p>Many of the games are simplicity itself. Often the play
+is merely a circle dance, sometimes ending in a sudden kneeling
+or sitting on the ground, One of the songs accompanying
+this dance runs:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Potatoes and salt must little folks eat,</p>
+<p class="i1">While the grown-up people dine</p>
+<p>Off lemons and chestnuts and oranges sweet,</p>
+<p class="i1">With cocoanut milk for wine.</p>
+<p>On the ground do we take our seat,</p>
+<p class="i1">We're at your feet, we're at your feet."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Sometimes a line of children will form across the street
+and run, hand in hand, down its length, singing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"We have closed the street</p>
+<p class="i2">And no one may pass,</p>
+<p class="i1">Only my grandpa</p>
+<p class="i2">Leading his ass</p>
+<p class="i1">Laden with oranges</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span>
+<p class="i2">Fresh from the trees.</p>
+<p class="i1">Tilín! Tilín!</p>
+<p class="i1"> Down on our knees!</p>
+<p>Tilín!&nbsp;&nbsp;Tilín!&nbsp;&nbsp;Tilín!&nbsp;&nbsp;Tilín!</p>
+<p>The holy bell of San Agustín!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>A play for four weans, training them early to the "eternal
+Spanish contradiction," consists in holding a handkerchief by
+its four corners, while one of them sings:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="i1-6">"Pull and slacken!</p>
+<p>I've lost my treasure store.</p>
+<p class="i2">Pull and slacken!</p>
+<p>I'm going to earn some more.</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>Slacken!</i>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And at this, the other three children must <i>pull</i>, on pain of
+forfeit, whereas if the word is <i>pull</i>, their business is to <i>slacken</i>.</p>
+
+<p>They have a grasshopper game, where they jump about
+with their hands clasped under their knees, singing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Grasshopper sent me an invitation</p>
+<p>To come and share his occupation.</p>
+<p>Grasshopper dear, how could I say no?</p>
+<p>Grasshopper, grasshopper, here I go!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>In much the same fashion they play "Turkey," gobbling as
+they hop.</p>
+
+<p>I never found them "playing house" precisely after the
+manner of our own little girls, but there are many variants
+for the dialogue and songs in their game of "Washerwoman."
+The Mother says: "Mariquilla, I'm going out
+to the river to wash. While I am gone, you must sweep
+and tidy up the house."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Bueno, madre.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>But no sooner is the Mother out of sight than naughty
+Mariquilla begins to frisk for joy, singing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Mother has gone to wash.</p>
+<p class="i1">Mother'll be gone all day.</p>
+<p>Now can Mariquilla</p>
+<p class="i1">Laugh and dance and play."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But the Mother returns so suddenly that Mariquilla sees her
+barely in time to begin a vigorous sweeping.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"'What hast been doing, Mary?'</p>
+<p class="i1">'Sweeping with broom of brier.'</p>
+<p>'A friar saw thee playing.'</p>
+<p class="i1">'He was a lying friar.'</p>
+<p>'A holy friar tell a lie!'</p>
+<p class="i1">'He lied and so do you.'</p>
+<p>'Come hither, Mary of my heart,</p>
+<p class="i1">'And I'll beat thee black and blue.'"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>After this lively exercise, the washerwoman goes away
+again, charging Mariquilla to churn the butter, then to knead
+the bread, then to set the table, but always with the same disastrous
+results. The Mother finally condemns her to a dinner
+of bread and bitters, but Mariquilla makes a point of understanding
+her to say bread and honey, and shares this sweetness
+with her sympathetic mates who form the circle. This time
+the beating is so severe that the children of the ring raise
+their arms and let Mariquilla dodge freely in and out, while
+they do all they can to trip and hinder the irate washerwoman
+in her pursuit.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There is another washing game of more romantic sort, the
+chorus being:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"'Bright is the fountain,</p>
+<p class="i1">When skies are blue.</p>
+<p>Who washed my handkerchief?</p>
+<p class="i1">Tell me true!'</p>
+<p>'Three mountain maidens</p>
+<p class="i1">Of laughing look.</p>
+<p>White went their feet</p>
+<p class="i1">In the running brook.</p>
+<p>One threw in roses,</p>
+<p class="i1">And jasmine one.</p>
+<p>One spread thy handkerchief</p>
+<p class="i1">In the sun.'"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Spanish children "play store," of course, but they are such
+dramatic little creatures that they need no broken ware for
+their merchandise. A row of them will squat down in the
+middle of the street, clasp their hands under the hollow
+of their knees, and crook out their arms for "handles."
+Then a customer wanders by, asking, "Who sells honey-jars?"
+The merchant disrespectfully replies, "That do I,
+Uncle of the Torn Trousers." The shabby customer answers
+with Castilian dignity, "If my trousers are torn, my
+wife will mend them." The merchant then opens negotiations.
+"Will you buy a little jar of honey?" "What's
+your price?" The merchant is not exorbitant. "A flea
+and a louse." The probabilities are, unhappily, that the customer
+has these commodities about him, and he inclines,
+though cautiously, toward the bargain.</p>
+
+<p>"Your little honey-jars are good?"
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Very good."</p>
+
+<p>"Do they weigh much?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let's see."</p>
+
+<p>So they pick up an hilarious little honey-jar by its handles
+and tug it away between them, not letting it touch the
+ground, to the sidewalk. Here the merchant and customer
+have designated four spaces as Heaven, Limbo, Purgatory,
+and Hell, but on a preliminary paving-stone&mdash;let truth need
+no apology!&mdash;they have done some artistic spitting, with the
+result that four different figures in saliva are presented to the
+little honey-jar. These four figures bear a secret relation
+to the four spaces on the sidewalk, and the prisoner must
+make his choice. "This!" he ventures. "Hell!" scream
+the merchant and customer, and drag him, shrieking and
+struggling, to his doom. The next, perhaps, will have the
+luck to hit on Heaven, for every little honey-jar must take his
+chance in this theological lottery.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes the market becomes a transformation scene.
+The children hold up their forefingers for candles, but
+embarrass the merchant by doubling these up whenever the
+customer is on the point of buying. Just as the bargain is
+about to be concluded, the little candles vanish and the children
+roll themselves into bunches of grapes, some proving
+sweet and others sour. Again, they make themselves over
+into pitchers, cushions, and all variety of domestic articles,
+becoming at last a pack of barking dogs which rush out on the
+customer, snap at his legs, and drive him off the premises.</p>
+
+<p>Again, it is a chicken-market on which the Uncle of the
+Torn Trousers chances, where one by one he buys all the
+hens and chickens, but forgets to buy the rooster, and when,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span>
+by and by, this lordly fowl, waxing lonely, cock-a-doodle-doos,
+the hens and chickens come scurrying back to him, more to
+the profit of the merchant than to the satisfaction of the
+customer.</p>
+
+<p>In another of the chicken games, the Mother leaves Mariquilla
+in charge of the brood, with directions, if the wolf
+comes, to fling him the smallest. But he comes so often
+that, when the Mother returns, there are no chickens left.
+Then she and Little Mary go hunting them, hop-hop-hop
+through Flea Street, bow-wow-wow through Dog Street, and
+so on without success, until it occurs to them to scatter corn.
+Thereupon with peep-peep-peep and flip-flap-flutter all the
+chickens appear, but only to fly at the negligent Mother, who
+left them to the jaws of the wolf, and assail her with such
+furious pecks that she must run for her life, the indignant
+chicks racing in wild pursuit.</p>
+
+<p>There is a market-garden game, where one acts as gardener,
+others as vegetables, and others as customers. Others, still,
+come creeping up as thieves, but are opposed by a barking
+dog, which they kill. The gardener summons them before
+the judge. A trial is held, with much fluent Spanish argument
+pro and con, and the prisoners are condemned to execution
+for the murder of the dog. But at the last thrilling
+moment, when they have confessed their sins to the priests,
+and been torn from the embraces of their weeping friends, the
+dog trots cheerfully in, so very much alive that all the criminals
+are pardoned in a general dance of joy.</p>
+
+<p>The little girls have a favorite shopping game. In this the
+children are seated, shoulder to shoulder, in two rows that face
+each other. Every child takes the name of some cloth, silks
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span>
+and satins being preferred. The leader of the game runs
+around the two rows, singing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Up the counter, down the counter!</p>
+<p class="i1">How can I buy enough?</p>
+<p>Down the counter, up the counter!</p>
+<p class="i1">I choose this velvet stuff."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Little Velvet immediately jumps to her feet and follows the
+leader, who continues choosing and calling, choosing and calling,
+until the stock is exhausted and she can go home with all
+her purchases most conveniently trooping at her heels.</p>
+
+<p>But the plays dearest to the black-eyed <i>niñas</i> are love plays,
+of which they have a countless number. Most of these consist
+of the dancing, singing circle, with a child in the centre
+who chooses a mate. Some are as simple as this:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Milk and rice!</p>
+<p class="i1">I want to marry</p>
+<p>A maiden nice.</p>
+<p class="i1">I may not tarry.</p>
+<p>It is not this,</p>
+<p class="i1">Nor this, nor this.</p>
+<p>'Tis only this</p>
+<p class="i1">Whom I want to marry."</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_383" id="i_383"></a>
+<img src="images/i_383.jpg" width="625" height="416" alt="Cadiz from the Sea" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Cadiz from the Sea</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><i>Ambó, ató</i> is hardly more elaborate. When in the exchange
+of question and answer, the child would choose her page and
+touches one of the circle, the mercenary mites dance on faster
+than ever, until she offers whatever gift she has, a flower,
+apple, or any trifle at hand. Then the page runs in and
+kneels before her. The circle dances about the two, singing
+the refrain, until the first child slips out and joins them,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span>
+leaving the second in the centre to begin the game over
+again.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i1-6">"<i>Ambó, ató, matarile, rile, rile?</i></p>
+<p class="i2"><i>Ambó, ató, matarile, rile, ron?</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>1.<span class="iambo">"What do you want, matarile, rile, rile?</span></p>
+<p class="i2">What do you want, matarile, rile, ron?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>2.<span class="iambo">"I want a page, matarile, rile, rile.</span></p>
+<p class="i2">I want a page, matarile, rile, ron.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>1.<span class="iambo">"Choose whom you will, matarile, rile, rile.</span></p>
+<p class="i2">Choose whom you will, matarile, rile, ron.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>2.<span class="iambo">"I choose Pedro, matarile, rile, rile.</span></p>
+<p class="i2">I choose Pedro, matarile, rile, ron.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>1.<span class="iambo">"What will you give him, matarile, rile, rile?</span></p>
+<p class="i2">What will you give him, matarile, rile, ron?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>2.<span class="iambo">"I'll give him an orange, matarile, rile, rile.</span></p>
+<p class="i2">I'll give him an orange, matarile, rile, ron.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>1.<span class="iambo">"He answers yes, matarile, rile, rile.</span></p>
+<p class="i2">He answers yes, matarile, rile, ron."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"The Charcoal Woman" requires an odd number of players.
+The circle dances about a little girl who stands all forlorn
+in the centre. The chorus sings the first stanza, the
+child sings the second, which has reference to the fact that
+Spanish charcoal is often made from laurel wood, and the
+chorus, in a comforting tone, the third. Then, while the
+child runs about and about the circle as if seeking, the chorus
+angrily sings the fourth stanza, accusing her of ambition, and
+the little charcoal woman retorts with the fifth, making her
+choice as she sings the last four words. At this the circle
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">320</a></span>
+breaks, the children quickly choosing mates and dancing by
+pairs. The one who is left without a partner takes her place
+in the centre as the next Charcoal Woman.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10">1.</p>
+<p><i>Chorus.</i><span class="icw">"Who would say that the charcoal woman,</span></p>
+<p class="i7">Sooty, sooty charcoal woman,</p>
+<p class="i7">In all the city and all the land</p>
+<p class="i7">Could find a lover to kiss her hand?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10">2.</p>
+<p><i>Charcoal Woman.</i></p>
+<p class="i7">"The little widow of good Count Laurel</p>
+<p class="i7">Has no one left her for kiss or quarrel.</p>
+<p class="i7">I want a sweetheart and find me none.</p>
+<p class="i7">Charcoal women must bide alone.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10">3.</p>
+<p><i>Chorus.</i><span class="icw">"Poor little widow, so sweet thou art,</span></p>
+<p class="i7">If there's no other to claim thy heart,</p>
+<p class="i7">Take thy pick of us who stand</p>
+<p class="i7">Ready to kiss thy sooty hand.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10">4.</p>
+<p><i>Chorus.</i> <span class="icw">"The charcoal woman, the charcoal woman,</span></p>
+<p class="i7">Proud little black little charcoal woman,</p>
+<p class="i7">Goes seeking up and seeking down</p>
+<p class="i7">To find the Count of Cabratown.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10">5.</p>
+<p><i>Charcoal Woman.</i></p>
+<p class="i7">"I would not marry the Count of Cabra.</p>
+<p class="i7">Never will marry the Count of Cabra.</p>
+<p class="i7">Count of Cabra! Oh, deary me!</p>
+<p class="i7">I'll not have him,&mdash;<i>if you're not he!</i>"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span>
+Just such coquettish touches of Spanish spirit and maiden
+pride appear in many of the songs, as, for instance, in one of
+their counting-out carols, "The Garden."</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"The garden of our house it is</p>
+<p class="i1">The funniest garden yet,</p>
+<p>For when it rains and rains and rains,</p>
+<p class="i1">The garden it is wet.</p>
+<p class="i3">And now we bow,</p>
+<p>Skip back and then advance,</p>
+<p>For who know how to make a bow</p>
+<p class="i3">Know how to dance.</p>
+<p class="i3">AB&mdash;C&mdash;AB&mdash;C</p>
+<p class="i3">DE&mdash;FG&mdash;HI&mdash;J.</p>
+<p>If your worship does not love me,</p>
+<p class="i1">Then a better body may.</p>
+<p class="i3">AB&mdash;C&mdash;AB&mdash;C,</p>
+<p class="i3">KL&mdash;MN&mdash;OP&mdash;Q.</p>
+<p>If you think you do not love me,</p>
+<p class="i1">I am sure I don't love you."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Sometimes these dancing midgets lisp a song of worldly
+wisdom:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"If any cadet</p>
+<p class="i1">With thee would go,</p>
+<p>Daughter, instantly</p>
+<p class="i1">Answer no.</p>
+<p>For how can cadet,</p>
+<p class="i1">This side of Heaven,</p>
+<p>Keep a wife</p>
+<p class="i1">On his dollars seven?
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"If any lieutenant</p>
+<p class="i1">Asks a caress,</p>
+<p>Daughter, instantly</p>
+<p class="i1">Answer yes.</p>
+<p>For the lieutenant</p>
+<p class="i1">Who kisses thy hand</p>
+<p>May come to be</p>
+<p class="i1">A general grand."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>And, again, these babies may be heard giving warning that
+men betray.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The daughters of Ceferino</p>
+<p class="i1">Went to walk&mdash;alas!</p>
+<p>A street above, a street below,</p>
+<p class="i1">Street of San Tomás.</p>
+<p>The least of all, they lost her.</p>
+<p class="i1">Her father searched&mdash;alas!</p>
+<p>A street above, a street below,</p>
+<p class="i1">Street of San Tomás.</p>
+<p>And there he found her talking</p>
+<p class="i1">With a cavalier, who said,</p>
+<p>'Come home with me, my darling,</p>
+<p class="i1">'Tis you that I would wed.'</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Oh, have you seen the pear tree</p>
+<p class="i1">Upon my grandpa's lawn?</p>
+<p>Its pears are sweet as honey,</p>
+<p class="i1">But when the pears are gone,</p>
+<p>A turtle-dove sits moaning,</p>
+<p class="i1">With blood upon her wings,</p>
+<p>Amid the highest branches,</p>
+<p class="i1">And this is what she sings:
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span></p>
+<p>'Ill fares the foolish maiden</p>
+<p class="i1">Who trusts a stranger's fibs.</p>
+<p>She'd better take a cudgel</p>
+<p class="i1">And break his ugly ribs.'"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The dance for "Elisa of Mambrú" begins merrily, and
+soon saddens to a funereal pace.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"In Madrid was born a maiden&mdash;carabí!</p>
+<p>Daughter of a general&mdash;carabí, hurí, hurá!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The song goes on to tell of Elisa's beautiful hair, which her
+aunt dressed so gently for her with a golden comb and crystal
+curling-pins, and how Elisa died and was carried to church in
+an elegant coffin, and how a little bird used to perch upon her
+grave and chirp, <i>pio</i>, <i>pio</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Mambrú himself is the pathetic hero of Spanish childhood.
+This Mambrú for whom the little ones from Aragon to Andalusia
+pipe so many simple elegies, the Mambrú sung by Trilby,
+is not the English Marlborough to them, but, be he lord or
+peasant, one of their very own.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Mambrú is gone to serve the king,</p>
+<p>And comes no more by fall or spring.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"We've looked until our eyes are dim.</p>
+<p>Will no one give us word of him?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"You'd know him for his mother's son</p>
+<p>By peasant dress of Aragon.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"You'd know him for my husband dear</p>
+<p>By broidered kerchief on his spear.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The one I broider now is wet.</p>
+<p>Oh, may I see him wear it yet!"
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p>At the end of this song, as of the following, the little
+dancers throw themselves on the ground, as if in despair.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Mambrú went forth to battle.</p>
+<p class="i2">Long live Love!</p>
+<p>I listen still for his coming feet.</p>
+<p>The rose on the rose bush blossoms sweet.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"He will come back by Easter.</p>
+<p class="i2">Long live Love!</p>
+<p>He will come back by Christmas-tide.</p>
+<p>The rose on the bush has drooped and died.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Down the road a page is riding.</p>
+<p class="i2">Long live Love!</p>
+<p>'Oh, what are the tidings that you bear?'</p>
+<p>The rose on the bush is budding fair.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"'Woe is me for my tidings!'</p>
+<p class="i2">Long live Love!</p>
+<p>'Mambrú lies cold this many a morn.'</p>
+<p>Ay, for a rose bush sharp with thorn!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"A little bird is chirping.</p>
+<p class="i2">Long live Love!</p>
+<p>In the withered bush where no more buds blow,</p>
+<p>The bird is chirping a note of woe."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>A game that I often watched blithe young Granadines playing
+under the gray shadow of Alhambra walls, seems to be a
+Spanish version of "London Bridge is Falling Down." Two
+children are chosen to be Rose and Pink. These form an
+arch with their uplifted arms, through which run the other
+children in a line, headed by the Mother. A musical dialogue
+is maintained throughout.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o5">"<i>Rose and Pink.</i></p>
+<p>To the viper of love, that hides in flowers,</p>
+<p class="i2">The only way lies here.</p>
+<p class="o4"><i>Mother.</i></p>
+<p>Then here I pass and leave behind</p>
+<p class="i2">One little daughter dear.</p>
+<p class="o4"><i>Rose and Pink.</i></p>
+<p>Shall the first one or the last</p>
+<p class="i2">Be captive of our chain?</p>
+<p class="o4"><i>Mother.</i></p>
+<p>Oh, the first one runs too lightly.</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis the last that shall remain.</p>
+<p class="o4"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+<p >Pass on, oho! Pass on, aha!</p>
+<p>By the gate of Alcalá!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The last child is caught by the falling arms and is asked
+whether she will go with Rose or Pink. She shyly whispers
+her choice, taking her stand behind her elected leader, whom
+she clasps about the waist. When all the children of the line
+have been successively caught in the falling arch, and have
+taken their places behind either Rose or Pink, the game ends
+in a grand tugging match. Rose and Pink hold hands as long
+as they can, while the two lines try to drag them apart. All
+the while, until the very last, the music ripples on:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o5">"<i>Rose and Pink.</i></p>
+<p>Let the young mind make its choice,</p>
+<p class="i1">As young minds chance to think.</p>
+<p>Now is the Rose your leader,</p>
+<p class="i1">Or go you with the Pink?</p>
+<p>Let the young heart make its choice</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span>
+<p class="i1">By laws the young heart knows.</p>
+<p>Now is the Pink your leader,</p>
+<p class="i1">Or go you with the Rose?</p>
+<p class="o4"><i>Chorus.</i></p>
+<p>Pass on, oho! Pass on, aha!</p>
+<p>By the gate of Alcalá!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Another favorite is "Golden Ear-rings." Here the
+Mother, this time a Queen, sits in a chair, supposedly a
+throne, and close before her, on the floor, sits the youngest
+daughter; before this one, the next youngest, and so on, in
+order of age. Two other children, holding a handkerchief by
+the corners, walk up and down the line, one on one side and
+one on the other, so passing the handkerchief above the heads
+of the seated princesses. Then ensues the musical dialogue
+between these two suitors and the Queen.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">
+"'We've come from France, my lady,</p>
+<p class="i1">And Portugal afar.</p>
+<p>We've heard of your fair daughters,</p>
+<p class="i1">And very fair they are.'</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">'Be they fair or no, señores,</p>
+<p class="i1">It's none of your concern,</p>
+<p>For God has given me bread for all,</p>
+<p class="i1">And given me hands to earn.'</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">'Then we depart, proud lady,</p>
+<p class="i1">To find us brides elsewhere.</p>
+<p>The daughters of the Moorish king</p>
+<p class="i1">Our wedding rings shall wear.'</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">'Come back, my sweet señores!</p>
+<p class="i1">Bear not so high a crest.</p>
+<p>You may take my eldest daughter,</p>
+<p class="i1">But leave me all the rest.'"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">327</a></span>
+The dialogue is transferred to one of the suitors and to the
+princess at the farther end of the line, on whose head the
+handkerchief now rests.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"'Will you come with me, my Onion?'</p>
+<p class="i1">'Fie! that's a kitchen smell.'</p>
+<p>'Will you come with me, my Rosebud?'</p>
+<p class="i1">'Ay, gardens please me well.'"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>In similar fashion all the daughters are coaxed away until
+only the youngest remains, but she proves obdurate. They
+may call her Parsley or Pink; it makes no difference. So the
+suitors resort to bribes, the last proving irresistible.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"'We'll buy you a French missal.'</p>
+<p class="i1">'I have a book in Latin.'</p>
+<p>'In taffeta we'll dress you.'</p>
+<p class="i1">'My clothes are all of satin.'</p>
+<p>'You shall ride upon a donkey.'</p>
+<p class="i1">'I ride in coaches here.'</p>
+<p>'We'll give you golden ear-rings.'</p>
+<p class="i1">'Farewell, my mother dear.'"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>In some of the many variants of this game, the Queen herself,
+adequate as she may be to earning her own living, is
+wooed and won at last.</p>
+
+<p>I have not met with fairy-lore among these children's
+carols. The only fairy known to Spain appears to be a sort
+of spiritualistic brownie, who tips over tables and rattles chairs
+in empty rooms by night. The grown-up men who write of
+him say he frightens women and children. He can haunt a
+house as effectually as an old-time ghost, and a <i>Casa del Duende</i>
+may go begging for other tenants. One poor lady, who went
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">328</a></span>
+to all the trouble of moving to escape from him, was leaning
+over the balcony of her new home,&mdash;so the story goes,&mdash;to
+see the last cartful of furniture drive up, when a tiny man in
+scarlet waved a feathered cap to her from the very top of the
+load and called, "Yes, señora, we are all here. We have
+moved."</p>
+
+<p>So the childish imagination of Spain, shut out from fairyland,
+makes friends with the saints in such innocent, familiar
+way as well might please even Ribera's anchorites. The
+adventurous small boy about to take a high jump pauses to
+pray:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Saint Magdalene,</p>
+<p>Don't let me break my thigh!</p>
+<p>Oh, Saint Thomas,</p>
+<p>Help this birdie fly!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The little girls express decided preferences for one saint
+over another.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i1-6">"Old San Antón,</p>
+<p class="i2">What has he done?</p>
+<p>Put us in the corner every one.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i1-6">"San Sebastián</p>
+<p class="i2">Is a nice young man.</p>
+<p>He takes us to walk and gives us a fan."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Santa Rita is best at finding lost needles, and San Pantaleón
+is a humorist.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="i1-6">"San Pantaleón,</p>
+<p class="i2">Are twenty and one</p>
+<p>Children enough for an hour of fun</p>
+<p class="i2">Slippers of iron</p>
+<p class="i2">Donkey must try on.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">329</a></span></p>
+<p class="i2">Moors with their pages</p>
+<p class="i2">Ride in gold stages.</p>
+<p class="i2">But if you want a</p>
+<p class="i2">Girdle, Infanta,</p>
+<p class="i2">Cucurucú,</p>
+<p class="i2">'Bout-face with you!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>At this one of the children dancing in circle whirls around,
+remaining in her place, but with back turned to the centre
+and arms crossed over her breast, although her hands still
+hold those of her nearest neighbors. The rhyme is sung over
+and over, until all the little figures have thus turned about
+and the circle is dancing under laughable difficulties.</p>
+
+<p>But the dearest saint of all is San Serení. Two of the
+best-known games are under his peculiar blessing. One of
+these is of the genuine Kindergarten type, the children dancing
+in a circle through the first two lines of each stanza, but then
+loosing hands to imitate, in time to the music, the suggested
+action.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="i1-6">"San Serení,</p>
+<p>The holy&mdash;holy-hearted!</p>
+<p class="i2">Thus for thee</p>
+<p>The shoemakers are cobbling.</p>
+<p class="i2">Thus, thus, thus!</p>
+<p class="i2">Thus it pleases us."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Even so it pleases seamstresses to stitch, laundresses to wash,
+carpenters to saw, silversmiths to tap, ironsmiths to pound,
+and little folks to dance, all for "San Serení de la buena,
+buena vida." In the second game, a gymnastic exercise, whose
+four movements are indicated in the four stanzas, he is apostrophized
+as "San Serení del Monte, San Serení cortés."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">330</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"San Serení of the Mountain,</p>
+<p class="i1">Our saint of courtesy,</p>
+<p>I, as a good Christian,</p>
+<p class="i1">Will fall upon my knee.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"San Serení of the Mountain,</p>
+<p class="i1">Where the strong winds pass,</p>
+<p>I, as a good Christian,</p>
+<p class="i1">Will seat me on the grass.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"San Serení of the Mountain,</p>
+<p class="i1">Where the white clouds fly,</p>
+<p>I, as a good Christian,</p>
+<p class="i1">Upon the ground will lie.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"San Serení of the Mountain,</p>
+<p class="i1">Where earth and heaven meet,</p>
+<p>I, as a good Christian,</p>
+<p class="i1">Will spring upon my feet."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>With the legend of St. Katharine and her martyrdom
+childish fancy has played queer caprices.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"In Cadiz was a wean&mdash;ah!</p>
+<p>The gentlest ever seen&mdash;ah!</p>
+<p>Her name was Catalina.</p>
+<p class="i3">Ay, so!</p>
+<p>Her name was Catalina.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Her father, Moslem cruel,</p>
+<p>He made her bring in fuel.</p>
+<p>Her mother fed her gruel.</p>
+<p class="i3">Ay, so!</p>
+<p>Her mother fed her gruel.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">331</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"They beat her Tuesday, Wednesday,</p>
+<p>They beat her Thursday, Friday,</p>
+<p>They beat her Saturday, Monday.</p>
+<p class="i3">Ay, so!</p>
+<p>They beat her hardest Sunday.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Once bade her wicked sire</p>
+<p>She make a wheel most dire,</p>
+<p>Of scissors, knives, and fire.</p>
+<p class="i3">Ay, so!</p>
+<p>Of scissors, knives, and fire.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The noble Christian neighbors,</p>
+<p>In pity of her labors,</p>
+<p>Brought silver swords and sabres.</p>
+<p class="i3">Ay, so!</p>
+<p>Brought silver swords and sabres.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"By noon her task was ended,</p>
+<p>And on that wheel all splendid</p>
+<p>Her little knee she bended.</p>
+<p class="i3">Ay, so!</p>
+<p>Her little knee she bended.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Then down a stair of amber</p>
+<p>She saw the cherubs clamber:</p>
+<p>'Come rest in our blue chamber.'</p>
+<p class="i3">Ay, so!</p>
+<p>She rests in their blue chamber."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Little Spaniards are not too intolerant to make a play-fellow
+of the Devil. In one of their pet games, the children
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">332</a></span>
+form in line, with the invaluable Mother in charge. To each
+child she secretly gives the name of a color. Then an Angel
+comes in with a flying motion and calls, for instance, "Purple!"
+But there is no Purple in the company. It is then
+the Devil's turn, who rushes in, usually armed with a table-fork,
+and roars for "Green." There is a Green in the line,
+and she has to follow the Demon, while the Angel tries again.
+All right-minded spectators hope that the Angel will have the
+longer array at the last.</p>
+
+<p>The Virgin's well-beloved name comes often into the
+children's songs.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"For studying my lessons,</p>
+<p class="i1">So as not to be a dunce,</p>
+<p>Papa gave me eight dollars,</p>
+<p class="i1">That I mean to spend at once.</p>
+<p>Four for my dolly's necklace,</p>
+<p class="i1">Two for a collar fine,</p>
+<p>And one to buy a candle</p>
+<p class="i1">For Our Lady's shrine."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Even the supreme solemnity of the Wafer borne through
+the kneeling streets cannot abash the trustful gaze of childhood.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'Where are you going, dear Jesus,</p>
+<p class="i1">So gallant and so gay?'</p>
+<p>'I am going to a dying man</p>
+<p class="i1">To wash his sins away.</p>
+<p>And if I find him sorry</p>
+<p class="i1">For the evil he has done,</p>
+<p>Though his sins are more than the sands of the sea,</p>
+<p class="i1">I'll pardon every one.'
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">333</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'Where are you going, dear Jesus,</p>
+<p class="i1">So gallant and so gay?'</p>
+<p>'I'm coming back from a dying man</p>
+<p class="i1">Whose sins are washed away.</p>
+<p>Because I found him sorry</p>
+<p class="i1">For the evil he had done,</p>
+<p>Though his sins were more than the sands of the sea,</p>
+<p class="i1">I've pardoned every one.'"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The affairs of State as well as of Church have left their
+traces on the children's play. As the little ones dance in
+circle, their piping music tells a confused tale of Spanish history
+within these latter days.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"In Madrid there is a palace,</p>
+<p class="i1">As bright as polished shell,</p>
+<p>And in it lives a lady</p>
+<p class="i1">They call Queen Isabel.</p>
+<p>Not for count nor duke nor marquis</p>
+<p class="i1">Her father would she sell,</p>
+<p>For not all the gold in Spain could buy</p>
+<p class="i1">The crown of Isabel.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"One day when she was feasting</p>
+<p class="i1">Within this palace grand,</p>
+<p>A lad of Aragon walked in</p>
+<p class="i1">And seized her by the hand.</p>
+<p>Through street and square he dragged her</p>
+<p class="i1">To a dreary prison cell,</p>
+<p>And all that weary way she wept,</p>
+<p class="i1">The lady Isabel.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"'For whom art weeping, lady?</p>
+<p class="i1">What gives thy spirit pain?
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">334</a></span></p>
+<p>If thou weepest for thy brothers,</p>
+<p class="i1">They will not come again.</p>
+<p>If thou weepest for thy father,</p>
+<p class="i1">He lies 'neath sheet of stone.'</p>
+<p>'For these I am not weeping,</p>
+<p class="i1">But for sorrows of mine own.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'I want a golden dagger.'</p>
+<p class="i1">'A golden dagger! Why?'</p>
+<p>'To cut this juicy pear in two.</p>
+<p class="i1">Of thirst I almost die.'</p>
+<p>We gave the golden dagger.</p>
+<p class="i1">She did not use it well.</p>
+<p>Ah, no, it was not pears you cut,</p>
+<p class="i1">My lady Isabel."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>These dancing circles keep in memory the assassination of
+Marshal Prim.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"As he came from the Cortes,</p>
+<p class="i1">Men whispered to Prim,</p>
+<p>'Be wary, be wary,</p>
+<p class="i1">For life and for limb.'</p>
+<p>Then answered the General,</p>
+<p class="i1">'Come blessing, come bane,</p>
+<p>I live or I die</p>
+<p class="i1">In the service of Spain.'</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"In the <i>Calle del Turco</i>,</p>
+<p class="i1">Where the starlight was dim,</p>
+<p>Nine cowardly bullets</p>
+<p class="i1">Gave greeting to Prim.</p>
+<p>The best of the Spaniards</p>
+<p class="i1">Lay smitten and slain,</p>
+<p>And the new King he died for</p>
+<p class="i1">Came weeping to Spain."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">335</a></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>This new king, Amadeo, is funnily commemorated in
+another dancing ditty, "Four Sweethearts."</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i1-6">"Maiden, if they ask thee,</p>
+<p class="i2">Maiden, if they ask thee,</p>
+<p>If thou hast a sweetheart&mdash;<i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>!</p>
+<p class="i2">If thou hast a sweetheart,</p>
+<p class="i2">Answer without blushing,</p>
+<p class="i2">Answer without blushing,</p>
+<p>'Four sweethearts are mine&mdash;<i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>!</p>
+<p class="i2">Four sweethearts are mine.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i1-6">"'The first he is the son of&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">The first he is the son of</p>
+<p>A confectioner&mdash;<i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>!</p>
+<p class="i2">A confectioner.</p>
+<p class="i2">Sugar-plums he gives me,</p>
+<p class="i2">Sugar-plums he gives me,</p>
+<p>Caramels and creams&mdash;<i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>!</p>
+<p class="i2">Caramels and creams.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i1-6">"'The second is the son of&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">The second is the son of</p>
+<p>An apothecary&mdash;<i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>!</p>
+<p class="i2">An apothecary.</p>
+<p class="i2">Syrups sweet he gives me,</p>
+<p class="i2">Syrups sweet he gives me,</p>
+<p>For my little cough&mdash;<i>hack</i>, <i>hack</i>!</p>
+<p class="i2">For my little cough.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i1-6">"'The third he is the son of&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">The third he is the son of</p>
+<p>The barber to the court&mdash;<i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>!</p>
+<p class="i2">The barber to the court.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">336</a></span></p>
+<p class="i2">Powders rare he gives me,</p>
+<p class="i2">Powders rare he gives me,</p>
+<p>And a yellow wig&mdash;<i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>!</p>
+<p class="i2">And a yellow wig.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i1-6">"'The fourth? Oh, 'tis a secret,</p>
+<p class="i2">The fourth? Oh, 'tis a secret.</p>
+<p>Our new Italian king&mdash;<i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>!</p>
+<p class="i2">Our new Italian king.</p>
+<p class="i2">He gives me silk and satin,</p>
+<p class="i2">He gives me silk and satin,</p>
+<p>Velvet, gold, and gems&mdash;<i>ha</i>, <i>ha</i>!</p>
+<p class="i2">Velvet, gold, and gems.'"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Strangest of all is the dramatic little dialogue, which
+one with an ear for children's voices may hear any day in
+Madrid, telling of the death of Queen Mercedes.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">
+"'Whither away, young King Alfonso?</p>
+<p class="i1">(Oh, for pity!) Whither away?'</p>
+<p>'I go seeking my queen Mercedes,</p>
+<p class="i1">For I have not seen her since yesterday.'</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'But we have seen your queen Mercedes,</p>
+<p class="i1">Seen the queen, though her eyes were hid,</p>
+<p>While four dukes all gently bore her</p>
+<p class="i1">Through the streets of sad Madrid.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'Oh, how her face was calm as heaven!</p>
+<p class="i1">Oh, how her hands were ivory white!</p>
+<p>Oh, how she wore the satin slippers</p>
+<p class="i1">That you kissed on the bridal night!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'Dark are the lamps of the lonely palace.</p>
+<p class="i1">Black are the suits the nobles don.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">337</a></span></p>
+<p>In letters of gold on the wall 'tis written:</p>
+<p class="i1"><i>Her Majesty is dead and gone</i>.'</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"He fainted to hear us, young Alfonso,</p>
+<p class="i1">Drooped like an eagle with broken wing,</p>
+<p>But the cannon thundered: 'Valor, valor!'</p>
+<p class="i1">And the people shouted: 'Long live the king!'"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Spanish wiseheads say that the children's choral games are
+already perishing, that the blight of schools and books is passing
+upon the child-life of the Peninsula, and soon there will
+be no more time for play. The complaint of the <i>niñas</i> is
+much to the same effect, yet they wear their rue with a
+difference:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Not even in the <i>Prado</i></p>
+<p class="i1">Can little maidens play,</p>
+<p>Because those staring, teasing boys</p>
+<p class="i1">Are always in the way.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"They might be romping with us,</p>
+<p class="i1">For they're only children yet,</p>
+<p>But they won't play at anything</p>
+<p class="i1">Except a cigarette.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Now let me tell you truly:</p>
+<p class="i1">If things go on like this,</p>
+<p>And midgets care for nothing</p>
+<p class="i1">But to walk and talk and kiss,</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"No plays will cheer the <i>Prado</i></p>
+<p class="i1">In future times, for then</p>
+<p>The little boys of seven</p>
+<p class="i1">Will all be married men."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XXI</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">338</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">"O LA SEÑORITA!"</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">
+"Since the English education came into fashion, there is not a maiden left who can
+feel true love."&mdash;<span class="smcap">Alarcón.</span></p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">D</span>uring my stifling night journey from Madrid to
+the north I had much chat with Castilian and
+German ladies in the carriage about Spanish girls.
+Our talk turned especially on their reading, so reminding
+me of an incident of the past spring. On an Andalusian
+balcony I once found a little girl curled up in the coolest
+corner and poring over a shabby, paper-bound book. On
+my expressing interest in the volume, she presented it at
+once, according to the code of Spanish manners. "The
+book is at the disposal of your worship." But as the bundle
+of tattered leaves was not only so precious to her own small
+worship, but also greatly in demand among her worshipful
+young mates, whose constant borrowing seemed a strain even
+on Andalusian courtesy, I retained it merely long enough to
+note the title and general character. The next time I entered
+a book-shop I expended ten cents for this specimen of juvenile
+literature&mdash;"the best-selling book in Seville," if the clerk's
+word may be taken&mdash;and have it before me as I write. On
+the cover is stamped a picture of two graceful señoritas, perusing,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">339</a></span>
+apparently, this very work, "The Book of the Enamored
+and the Secretary of Lovers," and throughout the two hundred
+pages are scattered cheap cuts, never indecent, but
+suggesting violent ardors of passion&mdash;embracings, kissings,
+gazings, pleadings, with hearts, arrows, torches, and other
+ancient and honorable heraldry of Cupid. The title-page
+announces that this is a fifth edition of ten thousand copies.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_406" id="i_406"></a>
+<img src="images/i_406.jpg" width="418" height="511" alt="The Divine Shepherd" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Divine Shepherd</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The opening section is on "Love and Beauty," enumerating,
+by the way, the "thirty points" essential to a perfect
+woman. "Three things white&mdash;skin, teeth, and hands.
+Three black&mdash;eyes, eyebrows, and eyelashes. Three rosy&mdash;lips,
+cheeks, and nails." But warning is duly given that
+even the thirty points of beauty do not make up a sum total
+of perfection without the mystic, all-harmonizing quality of
+charm.</p>
+
+<p>Next in order are the several sets of directions for winning
+the affections of maid, wife, and widow, with a collection of
+edifying sentiments from various saints and wits concerning
+widows. Descriptions of wedding festivities follow, with a
+glowing dissertation on kisses, "the banquet-cups of love."
+After this stands a Castilian translation of an impassioned
+Arab love-song with the burden, <i>Todo es amor</i>. Maxims on
+love, culled chiefly from French authorities, are succeeded by
+an eighteenth-century love-catechism:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>"<i>Question.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Art thou a lover?</p>
+<p><i>Answer.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Yes, by the grace of Cupid.</p>
+<p><i>Question.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;What is a lover?</p>
+<p><i>Answer.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A lover is one who, having made true and faithful declaration
+of his passion, seeks the means of gaining the love of her whom
+he adores."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">340</a></span>
+
+This is the first lesson. The second treats of the five
+signs of love, the third of love's duties, the fourth gives the
+orison of lovers&mdash;a startling adaptation of the Lord's Prayer&mdash;and
+their creed: "I believe in Cupid, absolute Lord of
+Love, who gives to lovers all their joys, and in her whom I
+love most, for most lovable is she, on whom I think without
+ceasing, and for whom I would sacrifice gladly my honor and
+my life."</p>
+
+<p>There is nothing here, it will be noticed, of the Englishman's
+proud exception:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"I could not love thee, Dear, so much,</p>
+<p class="i1">Loved I not honor more."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Love has its own beatitudes, too. "Blessed are they who
+love sincerely. Blessed are they of merry mood. Blessed are
+lovers who have patience. Blessed are the rich, for love
+delights to spend."</p>
+
+<p>A "Divination of Dreams," "copied from an ancient
+manuscript found in the ruins of the convent of San Prudencio,
+in Clavijo," that famous battle-ground where St.
+James first trampled the Moors, next engages attention.
+To dream of a fan is sign of a coming flirtation; of a banner,
+success in war; of a woman's singing, sorrow and loss;
+of stars, fair fortune in love; of fire, good luck at cards; of
+a black cat, trouble from the mother-in-law; of closed eyes,
+your child in mortal peril; of birds, joy and sweet content;
+of a ghost, ill health; of scissors, a lover's quarrel; of wine,
+a cheating Frenchman; of shoes, long journeys; of angels,
+good tidings from far away. Some of these omens are a
+surprise to the uninitiated reader. It is bad luck to behold
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">341</a></span>
+in a dream images of Christ and the Virgin. A church, seen
+from within, denotes alms; from without, death. To dream
+of the altar arrayed for high mass betokens grave misfortune.
+Other omens are significant of Spanish discontents. To
+dream of a Jesuit brings miseries and betrayals; of a military
+officer, tyranny and brutality; of a king, danger; of a republic,
+"abundance, happiness, honors, and work well recompensed."
+Often these divinations run into rhyme, as:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Dream of God at midnight dim,</p>
+<p>And by day you'll follow Him."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The next section of this Complete Guide is given over to
+snatches of love-song, which Andalusian children know by
+heart. These five are fairly representative:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Mine is a lover well worth the loving.</p>
+<p class="i1">Under my balcony he cries:</p>
+<p>'You have maddened me with your grace of moving,</p>
+<p class="i1">And the beaming of your soft black eyes.'"</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Though thou go to the highest heaven,</p>
+<p class="i1">And God's hand draw thee near,</p>
+<p>The saints will not love thee half so well</p>
+<p class="i1">As I have loved thee here."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"If I had a blossom rare,</p>
+<p>I would twine it in thy hair,</p>
+<p>Though God should stoop and ask for it</p>
+<p>To make His heaven more exquisite."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Such love for thee, sent forth from me,</p>
+<p class="i1">Bears on such iron gate</p>
+<p>That I, used so, no longer know</p>
+<p class="i1">Whether I love or hate."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">342</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The learnéd are not wise,</p>
+<p class="i1">The saints are not in bliss;</p>
+<p>They have not looked into your eyes,</p>
+<p class="i1">Nor felt your burning kiss."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Then comes a "New Dictionary of Love," defining some
+two hundred doubtful terms in Cupid's lexicon, as <i>forever</i>, <i>no</i>,
+<i>unselfish</i>. After this we are treated to the language of fan
+flirtation, of handkerchief flirtation, of flower flirtation, and
+"the clock of Flora," by which lovers easily make appointments,&mdash;one,
+two, three, being numbered in rose, pink, tulip,
+and so on. A cut of a youth toiling at a manuscript-laden
+desk introduces some fifty pages of model love-letters, which
+seem, to the casual eye, to cover all contingencies. A selection
+of verses used for adding a grace to birthday and saint-day
+gifts comes after, and this all-sufficient compendium
+concludes with a "Lovers' Horoscope."</p>
+
+<p>A single illustration of the sort of reading that Spanish
+girls find in their way should not, of course, be pressed too
+far, and yet any one who had seen the pretty group of heads
+clustered for hours over these very pages on that shaded
+balcony would not deny the book significance. A taste for
+the best reading is not cultivated in Spanish girls, even where
+the treasures of that great Castilian literature are accessible
+to them. Convent education knows nothing of Calderon.
+As for books especially adapted to girlhood, we have just
+examined a sample.</p>
+
+<p>Love and religion are the only subjects with which a
+señorita is expected to concern herself, and the life of the
+convent is often a second choice. Even when a Spanish girl
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">343</a></span>
+wins her crown of wifehood and motherhood, her ignorance
+and poverty of thought tell heavily against the most essential
+interests of family life. The Spanish bride is often a child
+in years. Pacheco's direction for painting the Immaculate
+Conception ran, "Our Lady is to be pictured in the flower
+of her age, from twelve to thirteen." This was three centuries
+ago, but Spain changes slowly. The girl of to-day, nevertheless,
+marries later than her mother married. I remember
+one weary woman of forty with eighteen children in their
+graves and the three who were living physical and mental
+weaklings. She told us of a friend who married at fourteen
+and used to leave her household affairs in confusion while she
+stole away to a corner to play with her dolls. Her husband,
+a grave lawyer in middle life, would come home to dinner
+and find his helpmeet romping with the other children in
+the <i>plaza</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The Spanish girl is every whit as fascinating as her
+musical, cloaked gallant confides to her iron-grated lattice.
+Indeed, these amorous serenades hardly do her justice, blending
+as she does French animation with Italian fervor. In
+Andalusia she dances with a grace that makes every other
+use of life seem vain. And when she bargains, there is
+nothing sordid about it. Her haggling is a social condescension
+that at once puts the black-eyed young salesman at her
+mercy.</p>
+
+<p>"But the fan seems to me the least bit dear, señor."</p>
+
+<p>He shrugs his shoulders and flings out his arm in protest.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, señorita! You see not how beautiful the work is.
+I am giving it away at six <i>pesetas</i>."</p>
+
+<p>She lifts her eyebrows half incredulously, all bewitchingly.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">344</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"At five <i>pesetas</i>, señor."</p>
+
+<p>He runs his hand through his black hair in chivalrous
+distress.</p>
+
+<p>"But the peerless work, señorita! And this other, too!
+I sacrifice it at four <i>pesetas</i>."</p>
+
+<p>She touches both fans lightly.</p>
+
+<p>"You will let us have the two at seven <i>pesetas</i>, señor?"</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes dance over his confusion. He catches the gleam,
+laughs back, throws up his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Bueno</i>, señorita. At what you please."</p>
+
+<p>It takes a Spaniard to depict a throng of Spanish ladies,&mdash;"fiery
+carnations or starry jasmine in their hair, cheeks like
+blush roses, eyes black or blue, with lashes quivering like
+butterflies; cherry lips, a glance as fickle as the light nod of
+a flower in the wind, and smiles that reveal teeth like pearls;
+the all-pervading fan with its wordless telegraphy in a thousand
+colors." In such a throng one sees not only the typical
+"eyes of midnight," but those "emerald eyes" which Cervantes
+knew, and veritable pansy-colored eyes dancing with
+more than pansy mischief. But the voices! In curious
+contrast to the tones of Spanish men, soft, coaxing, caressing,
+the voices of the women are too often high and harsh, suggesting,
+in moments of excitement, the scream of the Andalusian
+parrot. "O Jesus, what a fetching hat! The feather, the
+feather, see, see, see, <i>see</i> the feather! Mary Most Pure,
+but it must have cost four or five <i>pesetas</i>! Ah, my God,
+don't I wish it were mine!" The speaker who gets the lead
+in a chattering knot of Spanish women is a prodigy not only
+of volubility, but of general muscular action. She keeps time
+to her shrill music with hands, fan, elbows, shoulders, eyebrows,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">345</a></span>
+knees. She dashes her sentences with inarticulate
+whirs and whistles, and countless pious interjections: <i>Gracias
+á Dios! Santa Maria! O Dios mio!</i> The others, out-screamed
+and out-gesticulated, clutch at her, shriek at her, fly
+at her, and still, by some mysterious genius, maintain courtesy,
+grace, and dignity through it all. Yet it is true that the vulgar-rich
+variety is especially obnoxious among Spaniards. An
+overdressed Spanish woman is frightfully overdressed, her
+voice is maddening, her gusts of mirth and anger are painfully
+uncontrolled. This, however, is the exception, and refinement
+the rule.</p>
+
+<p>The legendary Spanish lady is forever sitting at a barred
+window, or leaning from a balcony, coquetting with a fan and
+dropping arch responses to the "caramel phrases" of her
+guitar-tinkling cavalier.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"You're always saying you'd die for me.</p>
+<p class="i1">I doubt it nevertheless;</p>
+<p>But prove it true by dying,</p>
+<p class="i1">And then I'll answer yes."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>For, loving as they are, Spanish sweethearts take naturally
+to teasing. "When he calls me his Butterfly, I call him my
+Elephant. Then his eyes are like black fire, for he is ashamed
+to be so big, but in a twinkling I can make him smile again."
+The scorn of these dainty creatures for the graces of the
+ruling sex is not altogether affected. I shall not forget the
+expression with which a Sevillian belle, an exquisite dancer,
+watched her <i>novio</i> as, red and perspiring, he flung his stout
+legs valiantly through the mazes of the <i>jota</i>. "Men are uglier
+than ever when they are dancing, aren't they?" she remarked
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">346</a></span>
+to me with all the serenity in the world. And a bewitching
+maiden in Madrid, as I passed some favorable comment upon
+the photographs of her two brothers, gave a deprecatory shrug.
+"Handsome? <i>Ca!</i>" (Which is <i>no</i> many times intensified.)
+"But they are not so ugly, either,&mdash;<i>for men</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The style of compliment addressed by <i>caballeros</i> to señoritas
+is not like "the quality of mercy," but very much
+strained indeed. "Your eyes are two runaway stars, that
+would rather shine in your face than in heaven, but your
+heart is harder than the columns of Solomon's temple. Your
+father was a confectioner and rubbed your lips with honey-cakes."
+Little Consuelo, or Lagrimas, or Milagros, or
+Dolores, or Peligros laughs it off, "Ah, now you are throwing
+flowers."</p>
+
+<p>The <i>coplas</i> of the wooer below the balcony are usually
+sentimental.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"By night I go to the patio,</p>
+<p class="i1">And my tears in the fountain fall,</p>
+<p>To think that I love you so much,</p>
+<p class="i1">And you love me not at all."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Sweetheart, little Sweetheart!</p>
+<p class="i1">Love, my Love!</p>
+<p>I can't see thy eyes</p>
+<p class="i1">For the lashes above.</p>
+<p>Eyes black as midnight,</p>
+<p class="i1">Lashes black as grief!</p>
+<p>O, my heart is thirsty</p>
+<p class="i1">As a summer leaf."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"If I could but be buried</p>
+<p class="i1">In the dimple of your chin,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">347</a></span></p>
+<p>I would wish, Dear, that dying</p>
+<p class="i1">Might at once begin."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"If thou wilt be a white dove,</p>
+<p class="i1">I will be a blue.</p>
+<p>We'll put our bills together</p>
+<p class="i1">And coo, coo, coo."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Sometimes the sentiment is relieved by a realistic touch.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Very anxious is the flea,</p>
+<p class="i1">Caught between finger and thumb.</p>
+<p>More anxious I, on watch for thee,</p>
+<p class="i1">Lest thou shouldst not come."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And occasionally the lover, flouted overmuch, retorts in
+kind.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Don't blame me that eyes are wet,</p>
+<p class="i1">For I only pay my debt.</p>
+<p>I've taught you to cry and fret,</p>
+<p class="i1">But first you taught me to forget."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"I'll not have you, Little Torment,</p>
+<p class="i1">I don't want you, Little Witch.</p>
+<p>Let your mother light four candles</p>
+<p class="i1">And stand you in a niche."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The average Spaniard is well satisfied with his señora as she
+is. He did her extravagant homage as a suitor, he treats her
+with kindly indulgence as a husband, but he expects of her a
+life utterly bounded by the <i>casa</i>. "What is a woman?" we
+heard one say. "A bottle of wine." And those few words
+tell the story why, with all their charm, home-love, and piety,
+the Spanish women have not availed to keep the social life of
+the Peninsula sound and sweet.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">348</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"But to admire them as our gallants do,</p>
+<p>'Oh, what an eye she hath! Oh, dainty hand!</p>
+<p>Rare foot and leg!' and leave the mind respectless,</p>
+<p>This is a plague that in both men and women</p>
+<p>Makes such pollution of our earthly being."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The life of the convent is attractive to girls of mystic temperament,
+like the <i>Maria</i> of Valdés, but many of these lively
+daughters of the sun regard it with frank disfavor. One of
+the songs found in the mouths of little girls all over the Peninsula
+is amusingly expressive of the childish aversion to so
+dull a destiny.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"I wanted to be married</p>
+<p class="i1">To a sprightly barber-lad,</p>
+<p>But my parents wished to put me</p>
+<p class="i1">In the convent dim and sad.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"One afternoon of summer</p>
+<p class="i1">They walked me out in state,</p>
+<p>And as we turned a corner,</p>
+<p class="i1">I saw the convent gate.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"Out poured all the solemn nuns</p>
+<p class="i1">In black from toe to chin,</p>
+<p>Each with a lighted candle,</p>
+<p class="i1">And made me enter in.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The file was like a funeral;</p>
+<p class="i1">The door shut out the day;</p>
+<p>They sat me on a marble stool</p>
+<p class="i1">And cut my hair away.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The pendants from my ears they took,</p>
+<p class="i1">And the ring I loved to wear,</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">349</a></span>
+<p>But the hardest loss of all to brook</p>
+<p class="i1">Was my mat of raven hair.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"If I run out to the garden</p>
+<p class="i1">And pluck the roses red,</p>
+<p>I have to kneel in church until</p>
+<p class="i1">Twice twenty prayers are said.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"If I steal up to the tower</p>
+<p class="i1">And clang the convent bell,</p>
+<p>The holy Abbess utters words</p>
+<p class="i1">I do not choose to tell.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"My parents, O my parents,</p>
+<p class="i1">Unkindly have you done,</p>
+<p>For I was never meant to be</p>
+<p class="i1">A dismal little nun."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>I came but slightly in contact with Spanish nuns. Among
+the figures that stand out clear in memory are a kindly old
+sister, at Seville, in the <i>Hospital de la Caridad</i>, who paused
+midway in her exhibition of the famous Murillos there to wipe
+her eyes and grieve that we were Protestants, and an austere,
+beautiful woman in <i>La Cuna</i>, or Foundling Asylum of Seville,
+who caressed a crying baby with the passionate tenderness of
+motherhood denied. The merriest Spanish <i>hermana</i> of our
+acquaintance we encountered on the French side of the Pyrenees.
+At Anglet, halfway between Biarritz and Bayonne, is
+the Convent of the Bernardines, Silent Sisters. The visitor
+sees them only from a distance, robed in white flannel, with
+large white crosses gleaming on the back of their hooded
+capes. These, too, were originally white, and the hoods so
+deep that not even the profile of the features could be seen;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">350</a></span>
+but the French Government, disturbed by the excessive death-rate
+in this order, recently had the audacity to interfere and
+give summary orders that the hoods be cut away, so that the
+healthful sunshine might visit those pale faces. The mandate
+was obeyed, but, perhaps in sign of mournful protest, the new
+hoods and capes are black as night. These women Trappists
+may recite their prayers aloud, as they work in field or garden,
+or over their embroidery frames, but they speak for human
+hearing only once a year, when their closest family friends
+may visit them and listen through a grating to what their
+disused voices may yet be able to utter. From all other contact
+with the world they are shielded by an outpost guard of
+a few of the Servants of Mary, an industrious, self-supporting
+sisterhood, whose own convent, half a mile away, is a refuge
+for unwedded mothers and a home for unfathered children.
+Hither the pitying sisters brought, a few days before our visit,
+a wild-eyed girl whom they had found lying on one of the sea
+rocks, waiting for the rising tide to cover her and her shame
+together. The chief treasure of this nunnery, one regrets to
+add, is the polished skull of Mary Magdalene.</p>
+
+<p>That one of the Servants of Mary who showed us over the
+Trappist convent was a bright-eyed Spanish dame of many
+winters, as natural a chatterbox as ever gossiped with the
+neighbors in the sun. Her glee in this little opportunity for
+conversation was enough to wring the heart of any lover of
+old ladies. She walked as slowly as possible and detained us
+on every conceivable pretext, reaching up on her rheumatic
+tiptoes to pluck us red and white camellias, and pointing out,
+with a lingering garrulity, the hardness of the cots in the bare,
+cold little cells, the narrowness of the benches in the austere
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">351</a></span>
+chapel, and, in the cheerless dining room, the floor of deep
+sand, in which the Bernardines kneel throughout their Friday
+dinner of bread and water. Longest of all, she kept us in
+the cemetery, all spick and span, with close-set rows of nameless
+graves, each with a cross shaped upon it in white seashells.
+The dear old soul, in her coarse blue gown, with tidy white
+kerchief and neatly darned black hood and veil, showed us the
+grave of her own sister, adding, proudly, that her four remaining
+sisters were all cloistered in various convents of Spain.</p>
+
+<p>"All six of us nuns," she said, "but my brother&mdash;no!
+He has the dowries of us all and lives the life of the world.
+Just think! I have two nephews in Toledo. I have never
+seen them. My sister's grave is pretty, is it not? They let
+me put flowers there. Oh, there are many families in Spain
+like ours, where all the daughters are put into convents. Spain
+is a very religious country. The sons? Not so often. Sometimes,
+when there is a conscription, many young men become
+priests to escape military service but it is the women who
+are most devout in Spain."</p>
+
+<p>And after the rustic gate was shut on the sleeping-place of
+the Bernardines, scarcely more silent and more dead beneath
+the sod than above it, she still detained us with whispered hints
+of distinguished Spanish ladies among those ghostly, far-off
+figures that, pitchfork or pruning knife in hand, would fall
+instantly upon their knees at the ringing of the frequent bell
+for prayers. Spanish ladies, too, had given this French convent
+many of its most costly treasures. We said good-by to
+our guide near an elaborate shrine of the Madonna, which a
+bereaved Spanish mother had erected with the graven request
+that the nuns pray for the soul of her beloved dead.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">352</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Even we Servants of Mary are not allowed to talk much
+here," said in parting this most sociable of saints, clinging to
+us with a toil-roughened, brown old hand. "It is a holy life,
+but quiet&mdash;very quiet. I have been here forty-four years
+this winter. My name is Sister Solitude."</p>
+
+<p>The nun whom I knew best was an exquisite little sister
+just back from Manila. During several months I went to
+her, in a Paris convent, twice or three times a week, for Spanish
+lessons. The reception room in which I used to await
+her coming shone not as with soap and water, but as with the
+very essence of purity. The whiteness of the long, fine curtains
+had something celestial about it. The only book in
+sight, a bundle of well-worn leaves bound in crimson plush
+and placed with precision in the centre of the gleaming
+mahogany table, was a volume of classic French sermons,&mdash;the
+first two being on Demons, and the next on Penance.
+Further than this I never read; for very punctually the slight
+figure, in violet skirt and bodice, with a white cross embroidered
+upon the breast, swept softly down the hall. A heavy
+purple cord and a large-beaded rosary depended from the waist.
+In conversation she often raised her hand to press her ring,
+sign of her sacred espousals, to her lips. Her type of face I
+often afterward saw in Spain, but never again so perfect. Her
+complexion was the richest southern brown, the eyes brightening
+in excitement to vivid, flashing black. The eyebrows,
+luxuriant even to heaviness, were nevertheless delicately outlined,
+and the straight line of the white band emphasized their
+graceful arch. The nose was massive for a woman's face,
+and there was a slight shading of hair upon the upper lip.
+The mouth and chin, though so daintily moulded, were strong.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">353</a></span>
+Not the meek, religious droop of the eyelids could mask the
+fire, vigor, vitality, intensity, that lay stored like so much
+electricity behind the tranquil convent look.</p>
+
+<p>We would go for the lesson to a severe little chamber,
+whose only ornament was a crucifix of olive wood fastened
+against the wall. Then how those velvet eyes would glow
+and sparkle in the eagerness of rushing speech! The little
+sister loved to tell of her Manila experience, almost a welcome
+break, I fancied, in the monotonous peace of cloister life. All
+that Sunday morning, when the battle was on, the nuns maintained
+their customary services, hearing above their prayers
+and chants and the solemn diapason of the organ, the boom,
+boom, boom of our wicked American cannon. For, according
+to this naive historian, Catholic Spain, best beloved of
+Our Lady among the nations of the earth, had labored long
+in the Philippines to Christianize the heathen, when suddenly,
+in the midst of those pious labors with which she was too
+preoccupied to think of fitting out men-of-war and drilling
+gunners, a pirate fleet bore down upon her and overthrew at
+once the Spanish banner and the Holy Cross. Tears sparkled
+through flame as the <i>hermanita</i> told of her beautiful convent
+home, now half demolished. The sisters did not abandon it
+until six weeks after the battle, but as the nunnery stood outside
+the city walls, their superior judged it no safe abode for
+Spanish ladies, and ordered them away. The French consul
+arranged for their transport to Hongkong on a dirty little vessel,
+where they had to stay on deck, the twenty-seven of them,
+during their week's voyage, suffering from lack of proper shelter
+and especially from thirst, the water supply running short
+the second day out. But all this was joy of martyrdom.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">354</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is not Hongkong a very strange city?" I asked.
+"Did it seem to you more like Manila than like Paris and
+Madrid?"</p>
+
+<p>The little sister's voice was touched with prompt rebuke.</p>
+
+<p>"You speak after the fashion of the world. All cities look
+alike to us. Ours is the life of the convent. It matters
+nothing where the convent stands."</p>
+
+<p>Stimulated by reproof, I waxed impertinent. "Not even
+if it stands within range of the guns? Now, truly, truly,
+were you not the least bit frightened that morning of the
+battle?"</p>
+
+<p>The sunny southern smile was a fleeting one, and left a
+reminiscent shadow in the eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Frightened? Oh, no! There were no guns between us
+and Paradise. From early dawn we heard the firing, and hour
+after hour we knelt before the altar and prayed to the Mother
+of God to comfort the souls of the brave men who were dying
+for <i>la patria</i>; but we were not frightened."</p>
+
+<p>There were strange jostlings of ideas in that cloistered cell,
+especially when the dusk had stolen in between our bending
+faces and the Spanish page.</p>
+
+<p>Once we talked of suicide. That morning it had been a
+wealthy young Parisian who had paid its daily tribute to the
+Seine.</p>
+
+<p>"What a horror!" gasped the little sister, clasping her
+slender hands against her breast. "It is a mortal sin. And
+how foolish! For if life is hard to bear, surely perdition is
+harder."</p>
+
+<p>"It does not seem to me so strange in case of the poor,"
+I responded, waiving theology. "But a rich man, though his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">355</a></span>
+own happiness fails, has still the power of making others
+happy."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but I understand!" cried Little Manila, her eyes
+like stars in the dimness. "The devil does not see truth as
+the blessed spirits do, but sees falsehoods even as the world.
+And so in his blindness he believes the soul of a rich man
+more precious than the souls of the poor, and tempts the rich
+man more than others. Yet when the devil has that soul,
+will he find it made of gold?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_423" id="i_423"></a>
+<img src="images/i_423.jpg" width="602" height="415" alt="Madrid Royal Palace" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Madrid Royal Palace</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>One chilly November afternoon, gray with a fog that had
+utterly swallowed the Eiffel Tower above its first huge uprights,
+which straddled disconsolately like legs forsaken of
+their giant, she explained in a sudden rush of words why Spain
+had been worsted in the war with America.</p>
+
+<p>"Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth. As with persons,
+so with nations. Those that are not of His fold He
+gives over to their fill of vainglory and greed and power, but
+the Catholic nations He cleanses again and again in the bitter
+waters of defeat&mdash;ah, in fire and blood! Yet the end is not
+yet. The rod of His correction is upon Spain at this hour,
+and the Faithful are glad in the very heart of sorrow, for even
+so shall her sins be purged away, even so shall her coldness be
+quickened, even so shall she be made ready for her everlasting
+recompense."</p>
+
+<p>"And the poor Protestant nations?" I asked, between a
+smile and a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>The little sister smiled back, but the Catholic eyes, for
+all their courtly graciousness, were implacable.</p>
+
+<p>She was of a titled family and had passed a petted childhood
+in Madrid. There she had been taken, on her seventh
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">356</a></span>
+birthday, to a <i>corrida de toros</i>, but remembered it unpleasantly,
+not because of the torture inflicted on the horses and bulls,
+but because she had been frightened by the great beasts,
+with their tossing horns and furious bellowing. Horns
+always made her think of the devil, she said. From her
+babyhood she had been afraid of horns.</p>
+
+<p>One day a mischievous impulse led me to inquire, in
+connection with a chat about the Escorial, "And how do
+you like Philip II?"</p>
+
+<p>The black eyes shot one ray of sympathetic merriment,
+but the Spaniard and the nun were on their guard.</p>
+
+<p>"He was a very good Catholic," she replied demurely.</p>
+
+<p>"So was <i>Isabel la Católica</i>," I responded. "But don't
+you think she may have been a trifle more agreeable?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps she was a little more <i>simpática</i>," admitted the
+<i>hermanita</i>, but that was her utmost concession. She would
+not even allow that Philip had a sorry end.</p>
+
+<p>"If his body groaned, his soul was communing with the
+Blessed Saints and paid no heed."</p>
+
+<p>At the corner of the street which led under the great
+garden wall to the heavily barred gate of the convent was a
+flower-stand. The shrewd, swift-tongued Madame in charge
+well knew the look of the unwary, and usually succeeded in selling
+me a cluster of drooping blossoms at twice the value of
+the fresh, throwing in an extra leaf or stem at the close of
+the bargain with an air of prodigal benevolence. The handful
+of flowers would be smilingly accepted by the little sister,
+but instantly laid aside nor favored with glance or touch
+until the close of the visit, when they would be lifted again
+with a winsome word of acknowledgment and carried away,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">357</a></span>
+probably to spend their sweetness at the marble feet of the
+Virgin. In vain I tried to coax from this scorner of God's
+earth some sign of pleasure in the flowers themselves.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you care for tea-roses?" "<i>Ah, el mundo pasa.</i>
+But their color is exquisite."</p>
+
+<p>Yet her eyes did not turn to the poor posy for the two
+hours following.</p>
+
+<p>"This mignonette has only the grace of sweetness."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a delicate scent, but it will not last. <i>El mundo
+pasa.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>She held the sprays at arm's length for a moment, and then
+laid them down on a mantel at the farther end of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry these violets are not fresher."</p>
+
+<p>"But no! The touch of Time has not yet found them.
+Still, it is only a question of to-morrow. <i>El mundo pasa.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the world passes. But is it not good while it
+lasts?"</p>
+
+<p>"The world good! No, no, and a thousand times no.
+Behold it now at the end of the nineteenth century,&mdash;wars
+and sorrows and bitter discontents, evil deeds and evil passions
+everywhere. Do you see the peace of Christ in the
+faces on the Paris streets? The blossoms of this earth, the
+pleasures of this world, the affections of this life, all have
+the taste of death. But here in God's own garden we live even
+now His everlasting life."</p>
+
+<p>"You are always glad of your choice? You never miss
+the friends of your childhood?"</p>
+
+<p>"Glad, glad, glad. Glad of my choice. Glad to see no
+more the faces of father and mother. And for them, too, it
+is great joy. For Catholic parents it is supreme delight to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">358</a></span>
+give up their children to the Holy Church. The ways of
+the world are full of slippery places, but when they leave us
+here, they know that our feet are set on the very threshold
+of heaven."</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes the slight form shivered in the violet habit, and
+the dark foreign face looked out with touching weariness
+from its frame of soft white folds.</p>
+
+<p>"You are cold? You are tired? Will you take my
+cloak? Were the children troublesome to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>It was always the same answer: "<i>No importa. No importa.</i>
+It matters not. Our life is not the life of flesh and
+blood."</p>
+
+<p>And indeed, as I saw her in the Christmas service among
+the other Spanish sisters, those lovely figures in white and
+violet making obeisance before the altar until their veiled
+foreheads almost touched the pavement, bowing and rising
+again with the music like a field of lilies swaying in the breeze,
+I felt that she was already a being of another world, before
+she had known this. Over her had been chanted the prayers
+for the dead. The strange ceremony of taking the veil had
+been her burial rite. The convent seemed a ghost land
+between earth and heaven.</p>
+
+<p>My <i>hermanita</i> belonged to one of the teaching orders, and
+despite the strange blanks in her knowledge, for secular lore
+had been, so far as possible, excluded from her education, she
+was representative of the finer and more intelligent class of
+Spanish nuns. In Granada I heard of the nuns chiefly as the
+makers of those delicious <i>dulces</i>, sugared fruits, which were
+indispensable to a child's saint-day, and there I was taught the
+scoffing epitaph:&mdash;
+
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_430" id="i_430"></a>
+<img src="images/i_430.jpg" width="420" height="625" alt="The Royal Family" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Royal Family</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">359</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Here lies Sister Claribel,</p>
+<p>Who made sweetmeats very well,</p>
+<p>And passed her life in pious follies,</p>
+<p>Such as dressing waxen dollies."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>To the spinster outside the nunnery Spain has little to
+offer. Small heed is paid to her except by St. Elias, who, on
+one day of Holy Week, walks about all Seville with a pen in
+his hand, peering up at the balconies and making note of the
+old maids. Since Andalusia expresses the theory of counterparts
+by saying, "Every one has somewhere in the world
+his half orange," the spinster can hardly hope for a well-rounded
+life. Careers are not open to her. There are
+"advanced women" in Spain, the most eminent being Emelia
+Pardo Bazan, novelist, lecturer, editor, who advocates for
+women equal educational and political privileges with men,
+but who has not yet succeeded in opening the doors. The
+voice of Spanish women, nevertheless, is sometimes heard by
+Spanish statesmen, as when delegation after delegation of
+señoras who had relatives held as prisoners by the Filipinos
+invaded the senate-house with petitions until they could no
+longer be ignored.</p>
+
+<p>A more thorough and liberal education for Spanish women
+is the pressing need to-day. There is, of course, great lack
+of primary schooling. A girl in her late teens, wearing the
+prettiest of embroidered aprons and with the reddest of roses
+in her hair, once appealed to me in Toledo for help. She
+had been sent from a confectioner's to deliver a tray of
+wheaten rolls at a given address, and she could read neither
+the names of streets nor the numbers of houses. But the
+higher education will carry the lower with it. Spain is degenerate
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">360</a></span>
+in this regard. The Moors used to have at Cordova
+an academy for girls, where science, mathematics, and history
+were taught. Schools for Spanish girls at present impart
+little more than reading and writing, needle-work, the catechism,
+the four rules of arithmetic, and some slight notion of
+geography. French and music, recognized accomplishments,
+are learned by daughters of the privileged class from their
+governesses or in the convents. Missionary work in Spain
+has largely concerned itself with the educational question,
+and Mrs. Gulick's project for the establishment of a woman's
+college in Madrid, a college without distinction of creed,
+is the fruit of long experience. Little by little she has
+proven the intellectual ability of Spanish girls. She established
+the International Institute at San Sebastian, secured State
+examination for her <i>niñas</i> and State recognition of their
+eminent success, and even won for a few of them admission
+to the University of Madrid, where they maintained the highest
+rank throughout the course. All that Spanish girls need is
+opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>But if the señoritas are so charming now, with their roses
+and their graces and their fans, why not leave them as they
+are, a page of mediæval poetry in this strenuous modern
+world? If only they were dolls outright and did not suffer
+so! When life goes hard with these high-spirited, incapable
+creatures, it goes terribly hard. I can see yet the tears scorch
+in the proud eyes of three undowered sisters, slaving at their
+one art of embroidery from early till late for the miserable
+pittance that it brought them. "We shall rest when we
+are dead," said the youngest. The absolute lack of future
+for these brave, sensitive girls, well-born, well-bred, naturally
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">361</a></span>
+as keen as the keenest, but more ignorant, in matters
+of common education, than the children of our lowest grammar
+grade, is heart-breaking. If such girls were stupid,
+shallow, coarse, it would be easier; but the Spanish type is
+finely strung. Once I saw an impulsive beauty fly into that
+gust of angry passion which Spaniards term the <i>rabia española</i>.
+A clumsy, well-intentioned young Austrian had said a teasing
+word, and in the fraction of a second the girl, overwrought
+with secret toils and anxieties, was in a tempest of tears; but
+the wrath that blazed across them burned the offender
+crimson. The poor fellow sent for his case of choice
+Asturian cider, cooling in the balcony, read the evening news
+aloud and discoursed on the value of self-control, but not
+even these tactful attentions could undo, for that evening at
+least, the work of his blundering jest. The girl flashed away
+to her chamber, her handkerchief bitten through and through,
+and the quick fierce sound of her sobs came to me across the
+hall deep into the night.</p>
+
+<p>Wandering over Spain I found everywhere these winning,
+vivid, helpless girls, versed in needlework and social graces,
+but knowing next to nothing of history, literature, science, all
+that pertains to intellectual culture. Some were hungry to
+learn. More did not dream of the world of thought as a
+possible world for them. Among these it was delightful to
+meet, scattered like precious seed throughout the Peninsula,
+the graduates of the International Institute. So far as a
+stranger could see, education had enhanced in them the
+Spanish radiance and charm, while arming these with wisdom,
+power, and resource.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XXII</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">362</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">ACROSS THE BASQUE PROVINCES</p>
+
+<div class="poem p2">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The Oak Tree of Guernica</p>
+<p class="i1">Within its foliage green</p>
+<p>Embraces the bright honor</p>
+<p class="i1">Of all the Basque demesne.</p>
+<p>For this we count thee holy,</p>
+<p class="i1">Our ancient seal and sign;</p>
+<p>The fibres of our freedom</p>
+<p class="i1">Are interlaced with thine.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"Castile's most haughty tyrants</p>
+<p class="i1">Beneath thy solemn shade</p>
+<p>Have sworn to keep the charter</p>
+<p class="i1">Our fearless fathers made;</p>
+<p>For noble on our mountains</p>
+<p class="i1">Is he who yokes the ox,</p>
+<p>And equal to a monarch</p>
+<p class="i1">The shepherd of the flocks."</p>
+
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<i>National Song of the Basques.</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">I</span>t did not seem to me historically respectful to take leave
+of Spain without having made a pilgrimage to the shrine
+of Santiago. A dauntless friend crossed the sea to bear
+me company. Hygienic pilgrim that she is, she came equipped
+not with cockle shells and sandal shoon, but with sleeping
+bags, coffee, and cereals. Many a morning, in traversing those
+northern provinces, where the scenery was better than the
+breakfast, we blessed her boxes of "grape nuts," and many a
+night, doomed to penitential beds, we were thankful to intrench
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">363</a></span>
+ourselves against the stings and arrows of outrageous insects
+in those spacious linen bags, that gather close about the neck,
+or, when dangers thicken, above the head, leaving only a
+loophole for the breath.</p>
+
+<p>Our point of departure was that city of nature's fancy-work,
+San Sebastian. Then, in the early half of July, it was
+all alive with expectancy, looking every day for the coming
+of the Court. It is reputed to be the cleanest town of the
+Peninsula, and is, in truth, as bright as a wave-washed pebble.
+Nevertheless, it is a favorite waltz hall of the fleas, which
+shamelessly obtrude themselves even into conversation.</p>
+
+<p>The chief summer industry of San Sebastian is sea-bathing.
+The soldiers begin it at six o'clock in the morning, marching
+by regiments down to the Concha, clearing for action, and
+striking out into the gentle surf, all in simultaneous obedience
+to successive words of command. Some two hours later teams
+of oxen draw scores of jaunty bathing cars down near the
+white lip of this opalescent shell of water, and there the long
+day through all ages, sizes, and ranks of humanity sport in the
+curling foam or swim far out into the sparkling bay.</p>
+
+<p>San Sebastian is the capital of Guipúzcoa, one of the three
+Basque provinces. These lie among the Cantabrian mountains,
+and are delightfully picturesque with wheat-growing
+valleys and well-wooded heights. As the train wandered on,
+in its pensive Spanish fashion, we found ourselves now in
+Scotland, in a beautiful waste of heather and gorse, now amid
+the English ivy and hawthorn, hearing the song of the English
+robin, and now in our own New England, with the hilly
+reaches of apple orchards and the fields upon fields of tasselled
+Indian maize.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">364</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Basques are a thrifty folk, and have cultivated their
+scant acres to the utmost. The valleys are planted with
+corn, the lower hills are ridged and terraced for a variety
+of crops. Above are walnuts and chestnuts, and the flintiest
+summits serve for pasturage. It was curious to see men at
+work on those steep slopes that had been scooped out into a
+succession of narrow shelves, and more strange yet to catch
+glimpses of peasants ploughing the very mountain top, picturesque
+figures against the sky.</p>
+
+<p>The reaping is of the cleanest. The harvest fields have a
+neat, scoured look, as if the women had been over them with
+scrubbing brushes. Yet this utilitarian soil admits of oaks
+and beeches, ferns and clover, morning glories, dandelions,
+pimpernel, and daisies.</p>
+
+<p>All that sunny morning the train swung us blithely on from
+one charm of the eyes to another&mdash;from a ruined watch-tower,
+where red-handed Carlists had crouched, to a bright-kerchiefed
+maiden singing amid her beehives; from a range
+of abrupt peaks, cleft by deep gorges, to sycamore-shaded byways
+and poplar-bordered streams; from a village graveyard,
+the pathetic little parallelogram enclosed in high gray walls
+and dim with cypress shadows, to a tumbling, madcap torrent
+spanned by a time-gnawed Roman arch. Shooting the heart
+of some black hill, the train would run out on a mere ledge
+above a valley hamlet, and from pure inquisitiveness, apparently,
+ramble all around the circle, peering down from every
+point of view on the cluster of great, patriarchal houses, sometimes
+of timber and plaster, more often of stone, where whole
+clans dwell together under the same red-tiled roof. Queer
+old houses these, occasionally topped with blue chimneys,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">365</a></span>
+and now and then with a fantastic coat of arms sculptured over
+the door, or a fresco of saints and devils blazoned all across
+the front. Sometimes freshly whitewashed, these Basque
+houses have more often a weather-worn, dingy look, but, however
+black the timbers, lines of clean linen flutter airily from
+roofs and balconies.</p>
+
+<p>They are a decent, self-respecting, prosperous people, these
+Basque mountaineers, of whose history my companion told
+me stirring tales. They are supposed, though not without
+dispute, to be the oldest race in Europe, descendants of those
+original Iberians whom the westward-trooping Aryans drove
+into the fastnesses of the Pyrenees. They have their own
+language, of Asiatic type. They themselves believe that it
+was spoken in the Garden of Eden. There are some
+twenty-five dialects of the <i>Vascuense</i>, and it is so difficult
+for foreigners that even George Borrow spoke it "with
+considerable hesitation," and one exhausted student, abandoning
+the struggle, declared that the words were all "written
+Solomon and pronounced Nebuchadnezzar." The Basques
+attribute their hardy virtues to the crabbedness of their
+speech, telling how the devil, after slaving over their
+vocabulary for seven years, had succeeded in learning only
+three words, and threw up his lesson in a pet, so that to this
+day he remains unable to meddle with their peasant piety.
+What little literature there is in the Basque language is
+naturally of the popular cast&mdash;hero songs, dancing songs,
+dirges, hymns, and folk-lore.</p>
+
+<p>The Basques are noted for their passionate love of liberty.
+The sturdy peasant is lord of his own rugged farm, and insists
+on tilling it in his own primitive way, breaking the soil with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">366</a></span>
+rude mattock more often than with plough. An English
+engineer, laying a railroad through Alava, tried his best to
+make his men abandon their slow, laborious method of
+carrying the earth in baskets on their heads. He finally
+had all the baskets removed by night, and wheelbarrows
+left in their places. But the unalterable Basques set the
+loaded wheelbarrows on their heads, and staggered about
+beneath these awkward burdens until, for very shame, he
+had to give them back their baskets.</p>
+
+<p>The peasant drives over the mountain roads in a ponderous
+ox-cart, with two clumsy disks of wood for wheels. The
+platform is wrought of rough-hewn beams, five or seven, the
+middle one running forward to serve as pole. All the structure,
+except the iron tires and nails, is of wood, and the solid
+wooden wheels, as the massive axle to which they are riveted
+turns over and over, make a most horrible squeaking. It is a
+sound dear to the peasantry, for they believe the oxen like it,
+and, moreover, that it frightens away the devil; but once upon
+a time a town of advanced views voted a fine of five dollars
+for any man who should bring this musical abomination within
+its limits. Thereupon a freeborn Basque rose with the dawn,
+selected his best carved oaken yoke, draped the red-stained
+sheepskin a trifle more carefully than usual above the patient
+eyes of his great smooth oxen, and took his way, "squeakity-squeak,
+squeakity-squeak," straight to the door of the <i>Ayuntamiento</i>,
+city hall, where he paid his twenty-five <i>pesetas</i>, and
+then devoted the rest of the day to driving all about the
+streets, squeaking out his money's worth. This is no servile
+temper, and it was not until our own generation that the dearly
+cherished liberties of the Basques were wrested away.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">367</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_439" id="i_439"></a>
+<img src="images/i_439.jpg" width="624" height="421" alt="The Manzanares" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Manzanares</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>These warders of the Pyrenees, for the Basques of Navarre
+and those now known as French Basques must not be forgotten,
+did good service in helping the Visigoths beat back the
+northward-pressing Moors and the southward-pressing Franks;
+but when the Basque provinces of Spain were incorporated
+with Leon and Navarre, and later with Castile, the
+mountaineers stood stubbornly for their <i>fuéros</i>, or peculiar
+rights.</p>
+
+<p>My comrade's lecture had reached this point, when, finding
+ourselves at Amorebieta, in the Province of Vizcaya, or Biscay,
+we suddenly descended from the train, and handed our
+bags to an honest Basque porter, who deposited them on the
+floor of an open waiting room, in full reach of an honest
+Basque population. For ourselves, we turned our faces
+toward the centre of Vizcayan glory, the famous Tree of
+Guernica. We entered a rustic train, that seemed entirely
+undecided which way to go. The station agent blew a little
+tin horn, green meadows and wattled fences began to glide
+past the car windows, and the interrupted discourse was resumed.</p>
+
+<p>The lawmakers of Vizcaya were duly chosen by their
+fellow-nobles, for every Basque held the rank of <i>hidalgo</i>, or
+"son of somebody." The deputies met every two years in
+the village of Guernica, sitting on stone benches in the open
+air beneath the sacred oak, and there elected the <i>Señores de
+Vizcaya</i>. Even the kings of Spain were allowed no grander
+title, but had to come to the Tree of Guernica, at first in person,
+later by deputy, and there swear to observe the <i>fuéros</i>.
+To this green shadow came the peasant from his lonely
+farm-house, high on the mountainside, to answer before his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">368</a></span>
+peers to such charges as might be brought against him; for
+within the sanctuary of his home the law could lay no hand
+on him or his.</p>
+
+<p>It was the Carlist wars that changed all this. The <i>fuéros</i>,
+of which a list dating from 1342 is still extant, granted the
+Basque provinces a Republican Constitution that almost realized
+an ideal democracy, with immunity from taxes save for
+their own needs, and from military service beyond their own
+boundaries. But when the dynastic strife broke out, the
+Basques put on the white cap of Don Carlos and bore the
+brunt of the conflict. We had already passed through
+Vergara, where, in 1839, Espartero ended the first Carlist
+war by a treaty which compelled the Basques to lay down
+their arms. But the cost of this rebellion was paid in blood.
+Their political status was practically unaffected. At the
+close of the second Carlist war, in 1876, Alfonso XII
+signalized his victory by meting out to them a terrible
+punishment, abrogating the precious <i>fuéros</i> that the Tree
+of Guernica had guarded for so many centuries. The
+Government imposed, moreover, its salt and tobacco monopolies,
+and made the Basques subject to military conscription.
+At every station we saw Spain's Vizcayan
+soldiers, red-capped and red-trousered, with blue-belted frock
+coats, under which beat hearts of doubtful loyalty. The
+son of Alfonso XII will have to reckon with the Basques,
+when the third Carlist war shall be declared, but it may be
+doubted whether the <i>fuéros</i>, which Don Carlos, of course,
+promises to restore, will ever come home to nest again in the
+Guernica Oak.</p>
+
+<p>My erudite fellow-vagabond was just pointing out the typical
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">369</a></span>
+shape of the Basque head, with its broad forehead, long,
+narrowing face, curved nose, and pointed chin, when we
+reached Guernica. Such a sweet and tranquil village as it is,
+set in the beauty of the hills, with the dignity and pathos
+of its history pervading every hushed, old-fashioned street!
+The guide, whom two affable ladies, sharers of our carriage
+in the little picnic train, had taken pains to look up for us at
+the station, was not, we judged, a favorable specimen of the
+haughty Basque <i>hidalgo</i>. He was a dull, mumbling, slouchy
+lad, who sunk his voice to an awed whisper as we passed the
+escutcheon-carved palace of a count. But he led us by
+pleasant ways to the modern <i>Casa de Juntas</i>, or Senate House,
+where we were shown the assembly room, with its altar for
+mass, the library and other apartments, together with the portraits
+of the twenty-six first <i>Señores de Vizcaya</i>, from Lope the
+Pirate, who forced back the invading Galicians in 840, to the
+Infante Don Juan, under whom the Basque provinces were
+finally incorporated with Castile.</p>
+
+<p>Close by the <i>Casa de Juntas</i>, which stands in a dreamy
+bit of park as fresh and trim as an English cathedral close,
+rises a pillared portico. There, where brown-eyed little
+Basque girls, their brown braids blowing in the breeze, were
+dangling green figs above their laughing mouths, used to sit,
+on those seven stone seats, the grave Basque fathers, making
+laws, meting out judgment, and regulating all the affairs of
+this simple mountain republic. The portico, bearing as
+joint devices the lion and castle of Spain and the three wolves
+of Vizcaya, was formerly enveloped in the leafy shadow of
+the Sacred Tree; but what rises behind it now is only the
+gaunt stem of a patriarchal oak, a very Abraham of plants,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">370</a></span>
+all enclosed in glass, as if embalmed in its casket. Before
+the portico, however, grows a lusty scion, for the Tree of
+Guernica is of unbroken lineage, shoots being always cherished
+to succeed in case the centuried predecessor fail.</p>
+
+<p>In presence of this despoiled old trunk, majestic with
+memories, we felt an honest awe and longed to give it
+adequate salute. My comrade levelled her kodak and took
+front views, back views, and side views with such spendthrift
+enthusiasm that the custodian, deeply impressed, presented
+her with a dried leaf from the junior, cunningly
+pricked out so as to suggest the figure of the tree. The
+national song of the Basques, a matter of some dozen stanzas,
+written principally in "j's," "rr's," and "tz's," takes
+its theme, if one may trust the Castilian translation, from
+this symbolic oak.</p>
+
+<p>The historian wished to do nothing more in Guernica but
+sit and gaze forever on that spectral trunk, but the reminder
+that piety was a hardly less marked Basque characteristic
+than political independence, finally induced her to follow our
+guide to the church. A Basque church has its distinctive
+features, including a belfry, a lofty, plain interior, with galleries,
+and often a votive ship, gayly painted and fully rigged,
+suspended from the ceiling. The lad bore himself with
+simple-minded devotion, offering us on stubby finger tips the
+holy water and making due obeisance before each gilded
+shrine.</p>
+
+<p>But my attention was soon fascinated by a foot-square
+relief on a blue ground of Santiago&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Good Saint James upon the milkwhite steed,</p>
+<p>Who leaves his bliss to fight for chosen Spain."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">371</a></span>
+I had hardly anticipated such a stalwart, vigorous, not to say
+violent saint, with his white horse galloping, his gold-sandalled
+feet gripping the great stirrups, his gold-fringed, crimson robe
+and azure mantle streaming on the wind, his terrible sword
+glittering high in air. This was clearly not a person to be
+trifled with, and I looked about for the historian to tell her
+that we must be pressing forward on our pilgrimage. But
+she had stolen out, every sympathetic Basque image of the
+sculptured doorway conspiring to keep a stony silence and
+conceal her flight, and had sped back to the Tree of Guernica,
+from whose contemplation she was torn away only by
+a fairy-tale of supper.</p>
+
+<p>Of the several Basque churches which we visited, including
+the bridal church of Louis XIV, far-famed San
+Juan de Luz, whose sides and west end are portioned off by
+three tiers of galleries, fairest in memory is the sixteenth-century
+church of Begoña in Bilbao. It abounds, as coast
+churches should, in suggestions of that mighty, mysterious
+neighbor, at once so cruel and so beneficent, the sea. Instead
+of votive ships, the walls are hung with paintings
+of vessels in scenes of appalling peril. One is scudding
+madly before a tropical gale; one has her rigging ragged by
+hurricane and her decks lashed with tempest; one, careened
+upon her side, lies at the mercy of the billows, which are
+sweeping over her and tumbling her crew like ninepins into the
+deep. But the presence of the pictures, bold dashes of the
+modern brush amid dim old paintings of saints and martyrs,
+tells that Our Lady of Begoña succored her sailors in distress,
+who, on their safe return, came hither to offer thanks for their
+preservation and to leave these mementos of their danger and
+her efficient aid.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">372</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is your Virgin so very powerful?" we asked of a chorister
+boy while he drew the cords to part the curtains that
+screened the jewelled image throned in a recess above the
+high altar.</p>
+
+<p>"I should rather think she was," answered the little fellow
+in a glow. "Why, let me tell you! Robbers, the accursed
+ones, came here on a dark midnight to steal her
+precious stones. They entered by a window, those sons of
+wretched mothers, and put up a long ladder against the altar
+wall. The wickedest of them all, señoras, he climbed the
+ladder and raised his hand to take Our Lady's crown. And
+in that instant the great bells overhead began to ring, and all
+the bells of all Bilbao pealed with them, and the people
+waked and came running to the rescue of Our Lady, and the
+robbers were put to death."</p>
+
+<p>Our expression did not quite satisfy his boyish ardor, and
+he pointed convincingly toward a handsome silver plaque.
+"And this, too, witnesses Our Lady's power. It was given
+in memory of the cholera time, when people were dying like
+flies in all the towns about. But after Our Lady was carried
+in procession through the streets of Bilbao, not one died here,
+except a sinful man who would not turn his head to look
+upon her."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a painting of the procession, the large picture
+over there on the wall?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, señoras. That picture commemorates another
+of Our Lady's wonderful deeds. The floods were threatening
+the city, but Our Lady, with many censers and candles,
+was borne down to the river bank, and she ordered the water
+to go back, and it obeyed her, and all the town was saved."
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">373</a></span></p>
+
+<p>We retreated to the cloisters, from which one has a superb
+view of the valley of the Nervion, for Our Lady of Begoña
+dwells high upon a hilltop. Only the afternoon before we
+had been in serene Guernica, a strange contrast to this mining
+capital of Vizcaya, this bustling, noisy, iron-grimed Bilbao,
+in which the Basques take such delight. It is not a city
+to gratify the mere tourist, who expects the people of the
+lands through which he is pleased to pass to devote themselves
+to looking picturesque. But even Spain is something more
+than food for the kodak, and this sooty atmosphere of smelting
+works and factories, traffic and commerce, means life to
+Spanish lungs. It is little to my credit that I took more
+interest in the fact that Bilbao used to supply Shakespeare's
+cronies with rapiers, under the name of "bilboes," than in
+statistics regarding those millions of tons of ore which its
+iron mines are now annually exporting to Great Britain.
+The many English in Bilbao, miners and artisans, with the
+influence they shed around them, make the streets rougher
+and uglier than in purely Spanish towns. On the other
+hand, they bring a spirit of religious independence, so that
+it is not strange to find the Spanish Protestants of Bilbao a
+numerous and vigorous body, counting as a pronounced
+element in the community.</p>
+
+<p>From the idle peace of the Begoña cloisters, as from the
+old-time world, we looked long on this Spanish city of to-day,
+seething with manifold activities. We seemed to understand
+how, to the middle-class Spaniard, hemmed in by all this
+mediæval encumbrance of barracks, cathedrals, castles, and
+thrones, such cities as Bilbao and Barcelona, pulsing with
+industrial energy and enterprise, are "more beautiful than
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">374</a></span>
+Beauty's self." The Basques, like the Catalans, take readily
+to business. They set their mountain cascades to turning
+mill-wheels, they canal their little Nervion till it can give
+passage to ships of four thousand tons burden, they paint the
+night with the flare of mighty furnaces. Every year they are
+building more wharves, more railroads, more electric tramways,
+and they are so prodigiously proud of their new iron
+bridge, with its flying ferry, which whisks passengers over
+from Portugalete to Las Arenas at the rate of two hundred a
+minute, that they stamp it on their characteristic jewelry.
+That cunning Eibar work of the Basque provinces displays
+again and again, on locket, bracelet, brooch, this incongruous
+design of the <i>Puente Vizcaya</i> beaten on chased steel in
+gold.</p>
+
+<p>We looked regretfully out over those significant reaches
+of land which we would have liked to explore to the last
+hearthstone. The Basque provinces! We had not even
+set foot in Vitoria, the capital of Alava, where is preserved
+the grim old <i>machete</i> by which Basque governors were
+sworn into office. "May my head be cut off with this
+knife," ran the oath, "if I do not defend the <i>fuéros</i> of my
+fatherland."</p>
+
+<p>And we longed to attend one of the peasant festivals, to
+see the lads play <i>pelota</i> and the lasses step Basque dances to
+the music of the village pipers, to hear the wild old marches and
+battle tunes that have roused the Roman and the Moor to
+arms. The mystery plays of the Basques were famous once,
+and although these naive dramas are now mainly confined to
+Christmas and Easter, who could say that we might not
+chance on some saint-day fragment? There was soon to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">375</a></span>
+take place, too, in one of the Vizcayan hamlets a "blessing
+of the fields," a processional harvest rite of pagan antiquity,
+formerly universal in Spain, but now confined to a few rural
+districts. We had a hundred reasons for lingering&mdash;but
+what are reasons? Pilgrims of St. James must put fresh peas
+in their shoes and be off for Compostela.
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_450" id="i_450"></a>
+<img src="images/i_450.jpg" width="622" height="421" alt="Spanish Cemetery" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Spanish Cemetery</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XXIII</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">376</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">IN OLD CASTILE</p>
+
+<div class="poem p2">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"With three thousand men of Leon from the city Bernard goes,</p>
+<p>To protect the soil Hispanian from the spear of Frankish foes;</p>
+<p>From the city which is planted in the midst between the seas,</p>
+<p>To preserve the name and glory of old Pelayo's victories.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>"The peasant hears upon his field the trumpet of the knight,&mdash;</p>
+<p>He quits his team for spear and shield and garniture of might;</p>
+<p>The shepherd hears it 'mid the mist,&mdash;he flingeth down his crook,</p>
+<p>And rushes from the mountain like a tempest-troubled brook."</p>
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Lockhart</span>: <i>Spanish Ballads</i>.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span>he journey from Bilbao to Santander is a continuous
+glory of mountain views. The train runs saucily
+along under beetling crags, whence the gods of the
+hills may well look down in wonder and displeasure on this
+noisy invasion of their solitude. We almost saw those ancient
+majesties folding themselves grandly in mantles of purple
+shadow, but hardly less royal in bearing were the muffled
+figures of the lonely shepherds tending their flocks on the
+very summits.</p>
+
+<p>The modern Province of Santander is the renowned Montaña,
+the mountain lair which nourished the chivalry of Old
+Castile, and from which they made wild sallies to the south,
+troop after troop, generation after generation, until the Moorish
+standards were beaten back from the plains about Toledo to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">377</a></span>
+the Sierras of Andalusia. Its capital city, Santander, named
+from St. Andrew, was one of the four coast towns which
+rendered signal service to Fernando in the conquest of Seville.
+These towns, lying as they did over against the Cinque Ports
+of England, came into so frequent conflict with British
+mariners as to be made in the days of Edward III the subject
+of a special treaty.</p>
+
+<p>A summer resort, however, is a summer resort the world
+over, and we found the historic city, which has gracefully
+fitted itself to the curve of its beautiful bay, crowded with
+idle people, elaborately dressed, who sat long at the noonday
+breakfast, and longer yet at the evening dinner, and then
+longest of all on the benches in the park, where bands
+clashed and fireworks flared, until the very stars began to
+blink for sleepiness.</p>
+
+<p>Spaniards have a veritable passion for pyrotechnics, and our
+dreams until the dawn would be punctuated by the airy report
+of rockets, as if, so Galdós suggests, "the angels were cracking
+nuts in the sky." Every now and then in those soft warm
+nights there rose a shout of song from the street, and
+peeping down from the balcony, we would see half a dozen
+lads and lasses leaping along through the middle of the road,
+all abreast and hand in hand, in one of their boisterous peasant
+dances.</p>
+
+<p>There are no fewer dangers and sorrows for girls in Spain
+than in the other Latin lands. In the low-vaulted, mighty-pillared,
+deep-shadowed crypt under the old cathedral, a crypt
+that is the very haunt of religious mystery and dread, we came
+upon a penitent kneeling before the altar, a bit of written
+paper pinned to her back. In a stir of the chill air this
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">378</a></span>
+fluttered to the ground, and as she, unconscious of its loss,
+bowed herself before another shrine, we picked up the paper
+with a half thought of restoring it; but seeing in the first
+glance that it was a rudely written prayer, entreating the
+Virgin's pity and pardon for her lover and herself, we let it
+fall again at Mary's feet. All manner of thank-offerings,
+waxen limbs, eyes, and ears, were hung in these candle-lit
+recesses, little spaces of gold amid the gloom. We had grown
+accustomed to such fragments of anatomy in the shop-windows,
+where even votive stomachs are displayed for sale.</p>
+
+<p>Although Santander is a dawdler's paradise, the residents
+of the city to whom we had letters were no holiday makers,
+but Spaniards of the earnest, thoughtful, liberal type, busy
+with large tasks of their own, but never too busy, being
+Spaniards, to show unstinted kindness to the strangers within
+their gates. Our brief stay did not admit of a tithe of the
+excursions they had in mind for us, but my comrade achieved
+a trip to Santillana del Mar, birthplace of the doughty Gil
+Blas.</p>
+
+<p>In the latest version of her adventures, she set forth from
+Santander under the bluest of skies, in company with the
+most bewitching of señoritas. They left the train at Torrelavega,
+where the shade of Garci Laso, one of King Pedro's
+victims, would doubtless have welcomed them, had not their
+attention been taken up with a picturesque coachman, who
+was standing dreamily on the station platform. This Adonis
+proved a complete paragon, who, as they took their romantic
+course over the hills, delightedly pointed out ivied tower,
+broken portcullis, and the like, as tidbits for the kodak.</p>
+
+<p>Santillana is the shrine of Santa Juliana, a Roman martyr,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">379</a></span>
+whose body is said to have been carried thither in the ninth
+century. Her devotees among the mountain wilds built her
+in this green valley, overhung by a rude old fortress, a precious
+church, a jewel of the early Romanesque, about whose
+walls a thriving community soon gathered. Santillana was
+throughout the Middle Ages the most important place between
+Burgos and Oviedo, and gave name to all that part of
+the Montaña. The successive Marquises of Santillana were
+then great personages in Spain, playing a leading part at
+Court. One of the proudest families of Old Castile, they
+claimed descent from the Cid, and cherished the memory of
+another heroic ancestor, who, in 1385, sacrificed his life to
+save his king.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"'Your horse is faint, my King, my Lord! your gallant horse is sick,&mdash;</p>
+<p>His limbs are torn, his breast is gored, on his eye the film is thick;</p>
+<p>Mount, mount on mine, O mount apace, I pray thee mount and fly!</p>
+<p>Or in my arms I'll lift your Grace,&mdash;their trampling hoofs are nigh!</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"'Nay, never speak; my sires, Lord King, received their land from yours,</p>
+<p>And joyfully their blood shall spring, so be it thine secures;</p>
+<p>If I should fly, and thou, my King, be found among the dead,</p>
+<p>How could I stand 'mong gentlemen, such scorn on my gray head?'</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"So spake the brave Montañez, Butrago's lord was he;</p>
+<p>And turned him to the coming host in steadfastness and glee;</p>
+<p>He flung himself among them, as they came down the hill,&mdash;</p>
+<p>He died, God wot! but not before his sword had drunk its fill."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">380</a></span>
+The city of Santillana, whose lords once laid claim to the
+sovereignty of Santander, has shrunk to a forgotten village, and
+the neglected church is dropping into ruins; but the inhabitants
+have abated not a jot of that fierce local patriotism which
+blinds the provincial Spaniard to all defects of his birthplace
+and to all excellences of rival towns. A graybeard told the
+stranger ladies that Santillana was the oldest city in Spain and
+its cathedral the most beautiful. This latter statement they
+were almost ready to accept, so richly carven was the yellow
+stone and so harmonious the proportions of nave and aisle.
+When they arrived at this miniature Durham they found it
+closed and silent, with three little boys sleeping on the steps.
+Through the benevolence of the ever present Spanish loafers,
+the sacristan was sought out and a ragged escort formed for
+their progress from chapel to chapel, where rare old pictures
+and frescos glowed across the dusk. Best of all were the venerable
+cloisters, weed-grown and tumble-down, but lovely as
+a mediæval dream with mellow-tinted arch and column, and
+with capitals of marvellous device. This crumbling church
+still keeps a dazzling hoard of treasures. All the front of
+the high altar is wrought of solid silver, the reredos is a
+miracle of art, and the paintings of old masters that moulder
+here unseen would long since in any other land than
+Catholic Spain have been the spoils of gallery and museum.</p>
+
+<p>The cathedral stands just outside the town, whose narrow,
+crooked streets daunted the carriage; but these enthusiastic
+sightseers were all the better pleased to foot the flagging that
+many a clinking tread had worn and to touch on either side,
+with their extended hands, the fortresslike houses built of
+heavy stone and dimly emblazoned with fierce armorial bearings.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">381</a></span>
+These grim dwellings were gladdened by the grace
+of vine-clad balconies, where children frolicked and women
+crooned quaint melodies over their needlework.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Will no one tell me what she sings?</p>
+<p class="i1">Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow</p>
+<p>For old, unhappy, far-off things</p>
+<p class="i1">And battles long ago."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The inn was merely the customary Spanish <i>venta</i>, rough
+and poor, the darkness of whose long, low room clouds of
+tobacco smoke from clumps of gambling muleteers were
+making blacker yet; but lemonade was served to the ladies
+in the open porch with a charm of cordial courtesy far
+beyond Delmonico's.</p>
+
+<p>As they quaffed this modest refreshment and watched the
+shifting groups about the <i>venta</i>, which seemed the centre of
+the social life, there suddenly appeared upon the scene a ghost
+from the modern world, an everyday gentleman in a straw
+hat, as citified and up to date as if he had that moment
+stepped out of a Madrid café. All the loungers within and
+without the <i>venta</i> sprang to their feet, bared their heads,
+and bowed low to this anachronism with so profound a deference
+that the tourists began to wonder if the irrepressible
+Gil Blas had come alive again. Not he! This was the
+Marquis of Santillana, bearing under his arm instead of a
+sword a bundle of newspapers. The first Marquis of Santillana
+had been a famous warrior and troubadour. This
+latest "inheritor of old renown," seating himself in the midst
+of his thronging vassals, graciously proceeded, much like a
+University Extension lecturer, to read aloud, with simple
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">382</a></span>
+explanations, the news of the day. Such is the final form
+of <i>noblesse oblige</i> in the feudal valley of Santillana.</p>
+
+<p>We were tempted to hunt out other nooks and eyries in
+the mountains of Santander, to see something of the famous
+sardine fisheries, to drive along the many-storied coast all the
+way to Gijon, paying our respects in passing to a noble oak
+of Asturias, one of the three largest trees of Europe; but
+always the uplifted sword of St. James drove us on. If we
+would reach Compostela in season for the annual <i>fiesta de
+Santiago</i>, there was no time to lose. So, in default of a nearer
+railway connection, we started due south for Palencia. Our
+route ran at first through a land of hills, maize, and stone
+walls that might have been New England, except for the
+women scratching away in the hay-fields, and politely saluting
+the train with a flourish of their pitchforks.</p>
+
+<p>Then more and more the landscape became Spanish. Little
+stone hamlets dozed in ever shallower valleys, mule trains and
+solitary horsemen moved slowly down poplar-bordered highways,
+white as chalk; there was a slumbering peasant for
+every speck of shade. But while the men took their siestas,
+often sleeping where the drowsiness had befallen them, with
+arm thrown about the wooden plough or with head pillowed on
+the thrashing roller, there were always women at work&mdash;figures
+clad in the very colors of the harvest, red and gold and
+purple, binding sheaves, sweeping the fields with stout brush
+brooms, tending flocks and herds by the rivers, following stray
+sheep over the hills, with only a handkerchief at the most to
+protect their heads from the terrible noonday sun. As the
+afternoon wore on, we found ourselves in the melancholy
+reaches of brown Castilian plain, with the adobe towns, the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">383</a></span>
+miserable mud villages, open-air threshing floors, and arid,
+silent, Oriental look.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_459" id="i_459"></a>
+<img src="images/i_459.jpg" width="620" height="418" alt="Toledo" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Toledo</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The only cloud in sight was that which rested for a
+moment on my comrade's face. She had so newly come
+from our clean and wholesome fatherland that certain features
+of the Spanish inns still shook her high serenity of soul,
+and she had suddenly discovered that Baedeker significantly
+characterized the Palencia hotel as "an indifferent Spanish
+house." In the discreet language of our excellent guidebook
+this was no less than a note of warning, a signal of alarm.
+But even Baedeker is fallible, and on arriving at the <i>Gran
+Hotel Continental</i>, we were met by all the Castilian dignity
+and grave kindliness of greeting, and led to rooms whose
+floors shone with oil and scrubbing, whose curtains, towels,
+and sheeting were white as mountain snow, and whose furnishings
+were resplendent with two dozen chairs upholstered
+in orange satin. We seated ourselves in rapture on one
+saffron throne after another, drank fresh milk from polished
+glasses, and slept, for this only night of all our Santiago pilgrimage,
+the sleep of the unbitten. A sweet-voiced <i>sereno</i>
+intoning the hours set our dreams to music.</p>
+
+<p>The following morning we spent in the cathedral, which,
+though of plain exterior, except for the many-imaged "Door
+of the Bishop," is all lightness, grace, and symmetry within.
+The organ was pealing and women were kneeling for the
+mass as we went softly down the high-vaulted nave, our spirits
+played upon now by the dignity of pointed arches and of
+clustered columns and now by delicate beauties in tracery and
+carving. Only here and there were we aware of a jarring
+note, as in chancing upon a great crucifix whose Christ was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">384</a></span>
+decked out in two elegant lace petticoats and a white silk
+crinoline embroidered over with silver thread.</p>
+
+<p>When the chant had died away, an affectionate old sacristan,
+in a curious red and black coat, delivered us with sundry farewell
+pats and pinches over to the charge of a subordinate, who
+proceeded to display the hidden treasures. These are far from
+overwhelming, after the glittering hoards of Burgos, Seville,
+and Toledo, but they are as odd an assortment as sacristy ever
+sheltered. There was an absurd portrait of Charles I, a freak
+of foreshortening. At first sight it seemed to be the skeleton
+of a fish, but on viewing it through a peephole the creature
+had become a human face. Even so, it was hardly a flattering
+likeness of the founder of the Austrian line; but as it was
+Charles I who stripped Palencia of her original powers and
+dignities, one would not expect to find him complimented
+here.</p>
+
+<p>We turned our attention to the vestments, which, though
+few, are peculiarly artistic, with devices, stitched in gold thread
+and in jewel reds and greens, of pomegranates, roses, ecclesiastical
+coats of arms, angels, Maries, Nativities, and Adorations.
+These were appropriate enough, but even our reserved
+conductor, a monastic youth who wore a white, openwork
+tunic over his black suit, smiled disdainfully as he put before
+us a time-yellowed ivory box arabesqued with men and lions, the
+jewel casket of some pet sultana. "But why should it be
+here?" He shrugged his shoulders. "In truth, it is not
+holy&mdash;a woman's thing! Nor do I know how it came to
+us, but what we have we keep."</p>
+
+<p>The sacristy certainly seems to have kept more than its
+share of <i>custodias</i>. Our guide first brought out a dainty
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">385</a></span>
+structure, where grieving angels uplift the cross, and the
+Sufferer's halo is wrought of pearls and gems. This was
+replaced by another, a marvel of goldsmith's craft, turreted
+and crocketed with fine gold, while all about the base are
+figured Annunciations, Visitations, and other mysteries. Rich
+as they were, neither of these could compare with that famous
+pyx of the Escorial, inlaid with ten thousand precious stones.
+Then our conductor took us with a mighty turning of monster
+keys, pulling of rusty bolts, and fall of clanging chains, to see
+the supreme <i>custodia</i> of all, one great dazzle of silver from
+fretted base to dome and pinnacle, save as among the Corinthian
+columns of the first stage glisten golden forms of the
+Apostles, and of the second, winged shapes of cherubim and
+seraphim. This shining tower, some three or four centuries
+old, is beheld by Palencia only on Corpus Christi Day, when,
+holding at its heart the golden monstrance which holds the
+Host, it passes as a triumphal car throughout the city. Priests
+walking on either side make a feint of drawing it by tasselled
+cords, but "little would it budge for that," said our guide, in
+high disdain, opening a door in the frame beneath to reveal
+the benches where strong men sit concealed and toil at a
+motor crank. He had much more to show us, including
+precious old tapestries of the Netherlands, and a St. Katharine
+by Zurbarán, with a light on the kneeling figure as pure and
+bright as a moonbeam; but we had to press the fee on his
+Castilian pride, when at last the vulgarity of luncheon summoned
+us away.</p>
+
+<p>For the historian, basking in this last smile of civilization,
+the afternoon passed blissfully among the orange chairs, but I
+sallied forth once more, attended by our benignant landlady.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">386</a></span>
+The rays of the sun flashed down like deadly arrows and I
+had pleaded for a carriage, but longed to beg its pardon when
+it came, so faded, rheumatic, and yet august was that fat old
+chariot, groaning and tottering as it rolled, but lowering the
+pomp of a velvet-carpeted staircase whenever we desired to
+alight.</p>
+
+<p>Our progress made a grand sensation in those drowsy streets
+and squares, a retinue soon gathered, and nobody seemed surprised
+when, after a round of Jesuit and Dominican churches,
+we drew up before the madhouse. I had wished to look upon
+this building, because it is reputed to have been a dwelling of
+the Cid; but the hero of Castile was as unknown to my gentle
+escort as to the medical priest whom she must needs call
+forth to meet me, or to the hapless lunatics whom he, in turn,
+insisted on my seeing. A town which had forgotten its chief
+citizen naturally fails to keep on sale photographs of its cathedral,
+so we packed our memories in default of anything more
+substantial and took the evening train to the northwest.</p>
+
+<p>Four hours of hushed, moonlit plain, and then Leon!
+This is a name of thrilling memories, and we stepped out
+into the midnight silence of that once royal capital whose
+kingdom "stretched from the Atlantic Ocean to the Rhone,"
+so awed that even a rickety 'bus, and a smuggler who tried to
+hide his trunk behind our honest luggage, hardly broke the
+spell. My comrade, still new to Spanish ways, had fears
+that the illustrated card which I had forgotten to stamp would
+not have reached the hotel. She asked me why I did not
+telegraph; but some days later, when we sent a telegram
+at noon, took a way-train at five, and reached our destination
+at ten, simultaneously with the telegram which I might as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">387</a></span>
+well have brought in my pocket, she was set free from New
+World prejudices. The unstamped card went through without
+question, a picture of a pretty mountain maid being quite
+as acceptable to the postal clerks as the portrait of their young
+king.</p>
+
+<p>We were expected at the hotel, the best in town, but so
+dirty and malodorous that we would better have camped
+under the stars. There had been some attempt to sweep the
+floor of our dingy chamber, as we could see by comparing it
+with stairs and corridors. Sour milk and sour bread were
+served with a compensating sweetness of manner, but the
+experiences of that night belong to oblivion.</p>
+
+<p>The joy of the morning! Guided by a shy little scullery
+lad, smooched of face and ragged of raiment, but with all
+the instincts of a cavalier, we stepped out into those stately
+streets, with their haughty old houses, balconies, coats of
+arms, arches, and battlements, as into an animated picture
+book. It was Saturday, and the town was all astir with
+peasants come to market, every peasant as good as a romance.
+Such brightness of figured kerchiefs, homespun petticoats,
+trunk hose, jackets, sashes! The little girls were quaintest
+of all, dressed precisely like their mammas, even to those
+brilliant skirts edged with one color and slashed with another.
+Many of the women were carrying loads of greens, others
+plucked fowls, and some had indignant chickens, in full possession
+of chicken faculties, snuggled under the arm.</p>
+
+<p>As the chief city in a far reach of luxuriant plain, Leon
+becomes the focus, every Saturday, of flocks of sheep, droves
+of pigs, and herds of cattle, together with innumerable mules
+and donkeys bringing in grain, fruit, and all manner of garden
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">388</a></span>
+produce. We chanced upon the market itself in the arcaded
+<i>Plaza Mayor</i>, under shadow of the towered court-house,
+with the tapering spire of the cathedral overlooking all. The
+great square hummed like a beehive and sparkled with shifting
+color like a field of butterflies. We found ourselves first
+in the bread market. Under wide umbrellas of canvas set on
+poles women were perched high on wooden benches, with
+their gayly shod feet supported on stools. Beside each
+woman, on her rude seat, was a brightly woven basket heaped
+with the horny Spanish loaves. Close by was the fruit
+market, with its piles of red and purple plums, pears, grapes,
+green peppers, lemons, and, beyond, patches of melons,
+cucumbers, cabbages, potatoes, beans, and that staff of Spanish
+life, chick pease, or <i>garbanzos</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The meat market appeared to be itinerant. A man in
+blue blouse, short brown breeches, and dove-colored hose
+adorned with green tassels, was leading a cow by its crumpled
+horn; an old woman, with giant silver hoops in her ears, a
+lavender shawl knotted about her body, her scarlet skirt well
+slashed so as to show the gamboge petticoat beneath, and so
+short for all its purple frill as to display the clockwork of her
+variegated stockings, was carrying a black lamb, nestled like a
+baby in her arms; another walking rainbow bore a live turkey;
+and a lad, whose rosy-hued kerchief, shawl, and sash floated
+like sunrise clouds about him, balanced on his erect young
+head an immense basket of eggs. There was a pottery section,
+too,&mdash;square rods of cups, plates, and jars in all manner
+of russet tints and graceful shapes.</p>
+
+<p>The various divisions were intermingled and blent into
+one great open-air market, the cheeriest sort of neighborhood
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">389</a></span>
+picnic, where gossip, jest, and laughter were accompanied by
+the cackling of fowls, braying of donkeys, and cooing of
+babies. Here fluttered a colony of bantams cast, their legs
+well tied, down on the cobble-stones; there stood carts laden
+with bunches of the yellowish dried heather; here two
+patient oxen had laid themselves out for a snooze; there a
+wicked little ass was blinking at the greens; here squatted a
+damsel in gold kerchief, garnet bodice, and beryl skirt, weighing
+out fresh figs; there sat a cobbler pegging away at his stall,
+his patrons waiting with bare feet while he mended their
+shoes; stands of cheeses, coops of chickens, children sleeping
+among the sacks of grain, a boy waving a rod on which was
+strung a gorgeous assortment of garters; loitering soldiers,
+limping beggars, bargaining ladies attended by their maids, all
+gave notes to the harmony. Yet with all that trampling,
+small weeds were growing green amid the slippery stones
+that pave the square.</p>
+
+<p>The Leon peasantry is said to be the finest in all Spain, and
+surely no concourse of people could have been more honest,
+courteous, and dignified than this. The women wore ornamented
+wallets beneath the skirt, and warned us gravely
+against carrying money in exposed pockets; but we moved
+freely among the press with notebook and kodak, always the
+centre of curious groups, and our purses were not touched.
+Indeed we found it difficult to spend even a <i>peseta</i>, so
+modest were the prices. For as large a jar as our little
+squire could well carry we paid the value of three cents.
+The men often rebuked the children for staring and questioning,
+but stood themselves at gaze, and asked us frankly
+what we were about. When we replied that we had never
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">390</a></span>
+seen so beautiful a market, and were taking notes and photographs
+that we might not forget, the peasants smilingly passed
+the word from one side of the <i>plaza</i> to the other, and all,
+even to the chief of police, who was strutting about waving
+an unnecessary staff, were eager to offer information and to
+point out picturesque subjects.</p>
+
+<p>But the morning was slipping away, and we had almost
+forgotten the oracle of a Spanish gentleman in Palencia:
+"Leon has three sights for the visitor, and only three&mdash;the
+Cathedral, San Isidoro, and San Marcos." We proceeded to
+take these illustrious churches in order. The Leon Cathedral,
+closely analogous to the Gothic masterpieces of northern
+France, is far beyond all poor praises of mine. Now in process
+of repair and stripped of the garish shrines of modern
+worship, it may be enjoyed purely as architecture&mdash;a temple
+of high beauty. Let artists tell of its towers and finials, flying
+buttresses, gables, cornices, galleries, piers, façades. Yet
+one need not be an artist to delight in the glow of its great
+rose windows, or to spend fascinated hours poring over the
+chiselled story book of portals, stalls, and cloisters. Such
+inimitable glass, burning still with the fervors of the mediæval
+faith! And such a world of divinity and humanity, even
+down to childish mischief, in those multitudinous carvings!
+The Passion scenes are repeated over and over, creation and
+judgment are there, the life, death, and ascension of the
+Virgin, hero legends, animal fables, and folk-lore. Gothic
+energy is abundantly manifest. St. George smites the
+dragon, St. Michael tramples the devil, Samson splits the
+lion's jaws, and Santiago, carved in ebony on a door in
+the mellow-hued old cloisters, is riding down the Moors with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">391</a></span>
+such contagious fury that the very tail of his horse is twisted
+into a ferocious quirk. On angel-guarded tombs pictures of
+ancient battle, murder, vengeance, are graven in the long-remembering
+stone. But marble birds peck at the marble
+fruit, the ivory peasant drives his pigs, the alabaster shepherd
+watches his flock, the lad leads his donkey, the monk feeds
+the poor at the abbey gates, and plump stone priests,
+stowed away in shadowy niches, make merry over the wine.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_470" id="i_470"></a>
+<img src="images/i_470.jpg" width="419" height="544" alt="Toledo Cathedral" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Toledo Cathedral. Door of Lions</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>If we had revelled overmuch in the art values of the cathedral,
+San Isidoro administered a prompt corrective. This
+Romanesque church, dating from the beginning of the
+eleventh century and a forerunner of the Escorial in that it
+was founded by the first Fernando of Castile as a royal
+mausoleum, is excessively holy. Not merely are the bones of
+the patron saint kept on the high altar, but the Host is on
+constant exhibition there. Unaware of these especial sanctities,
+we were quietly walking toward the choir, when an
+angry clamor from behind caused us to turn, and there,
+stretching their heads out over the railing of an upper gallery,
+was a line of furious priests. In vain the sacristan strove to
+excuse us, "foreigners and ladies," who did not know that
+we were expected to fall upon our knees on first entering the
+door. We had been guilty of no irreverence beyond this
+omission, and even under the hail of priestly wrath did our
+best to withdraw correctly without turning our backs to the
+altar. But nothing would appease that scandalized row of
+gargoyles, whose violent rudeness seemed to us the greater
+desecration. Thus it was that we did not enter the frescoed
+chambers of the actual Panteon, said to be imposing yet,
+although the royal tombs were broken up by the French in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">392</a></span>
+1808. Very wrong in the French, but unless the manners
+of San Isidoro's bodyguard have degenerated, the soldiers of
+Napoleon may have had their provocation.</p>
+
+<p>It was now high noon, and the market-place had poured
+all its peasants out upon the streets. Groups of them were
+lying at luncheon under the trees, passing the pigskin bottle
+of wine from mouth to mouth. Beggars were standing by
+and blessing them in return for scraps of the coarse and
+scanty fare. "May God repay! May the saints prosper thy
+harvest!"</p>
+
+<p>A woman riding home, sitting erect on the red-striped
+donkey-bag, handed a plum to her husband, who trudged beside
+her in gray linen trunks and green velveteen waistcoat, with
+a white square of cloth set, for ornament, into the middle of
+the back. He divided the fruit with a pleading cripple, who
+called after them as devoutly as a man with half a plum in
+his cheek well could, "May the Blessed Virgin ride forth
+with you and gladden all your way!"</p>
+
+<p>We had, because of the increasing heat, conjured up a
+carriage, a species of invalid stage-coach, and were therefore
+the envy of little schoolboys in blue pinafores. Their straw
+satchels bobbed on their backs as they gave chase to our
+clattering ark and clung to steps and door. This mode of
+locomotion did not save us time, for our coachman had
+domestic cares on his mind and drew up to bargain for a
+chicken, which finally mounted with a squall to the box
+seat; but in due Spanish season we stopped before the plateresque
+façade of San Marcos.</p>
+
+<p>This is a still unfinished convent, rich in artistic beauties
+and historic memories. Here, for instance, is a marvellously
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">393</a></span>
+human head of St. Francis, a triumph of the polychrome
+sculpture, and here is the little cell where the poet Quevedo,
+"colossal genius of satire," was imprisoned for over three
+years by Philip IV, the patron of Velázquez. It is not so
+easy to cage a mocking-bird, though the satire-pencilled walls
+have been well whitewashed.</p>
+
+<p>But San Marcos was originally a hospital for pilgrims on
+the road to Compostela, and conch shells are the central ornamentation
+of arch and vault and frieze. We accepted the
+rebuke; we would loiter no more. Early that afternoon we
+took train for Coruña, after which some agency other than
+steam must transport us to the mediæval city of St. James.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XXIV</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">394</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">PILGRIMS OF SAINT JAMES</p>
+
+<div class="poem p2">
+<p class="o1">"In Galice at Seint Jame, and at Coloigne,</p>
+<p>She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye."</p>
+
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Chaucer</span>: <i>Canterbury Tales</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Pilgrimes and palmers plihten hem to-gederes</p>
+<p>For to seche Seint Jame."</p>
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Langland</span>: <i>Piers Plowman</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone."</p>
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>: <i>All's Well that Ends Well</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">F</span>rom Leon to Coruña is a journey of some eighteen
+hours by rail. Degenerate pilgrims that we were,
+we had taken a first-class carriage reserved for ladies,
+not so comfortable as the average third-class carriage on an
+English road. We hoped for space, at least, and solitude,
+but people who choose to pry into out-of-the-way corners
+of Spain need not expect to find any slavish deference
+to rights of place and property. The conductor
+had planned to dine and sleep in this particular compartment,
+which was a shade cleaner than the rest, and removed
+his kit from the rack with natural disappointment.
+Why should ladies be going to Galicia? But the general
+first-class compartment, next to ours, was unoccupied, and he
+resignedly transferred his belongings thither. The numerous
+third-class carriages were crowded with raw recruits, who had
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">395</a></span>
+all jumped down, boy fashion, on the Leon platforms, and
+came scrambling back at the starting bell in noisiest confusion.
+Just as the train was puffing out, a station official threw
+open our door with a smiling, "Only to the next stop, ladies!"
+and precipitated upon us three belated warriors. We groaned
+inly with dark foreboding, for third-class occupancy of a first-class
+carriage is apt to leave lively souvenirs behind. Our
+three young soldiers, each with his personal effects bundled
+up in an enormous red and yellow handkerchief, were of the
+rudest peasant type, hardly lifted above animal and clod. Only
+one was able to spell out anything of the newspaper we offered.
+He labored over a large-lettered advertisement with grimy
+thumb, twisting brows, and muttering lips, but soon gave it
+up in sheer exhaustion. The hulking fellow beyond him was
+continually on the point of spitting,&mdash;a regular Spanish pastime
+in travel; but, determined that the carriage should not
+suffer that offence, I kept strict watch on this chrysalis hero,
+and embarrassed him into stark paralysis with questions on the
+landscape whenever he was quite prepared to fire. The third
+conscript was a ruddy, fair-haired boy of seventeen, who had
+in rudimentary form the social instincts of a Spaniard, and in
+his intervals of blue-eyed staring at the tawdry splendors about
+him hammered our ears with some harsh dialect, his one theme
+being the indignities and hardships of a Spanish soldier's lot.
+Yet dull as they were, and ignorant of railway customs, they
+knew enough to prefer broad cushions, whose variety of stains
+did not trouble their enviable simplicity, to the rough and
+narrow benches of the overcrowded third-class carriages,
+and at the "first stop" they unanimously forgot to change.
+But they were not unkindly lads, and after I had explained
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">396</a></span>
+to them a dozen times or so that my friend was suffering
+from a headache and needed to lie down, and had, furthermore,
+lawlessly suggested that they could make themselves
+equally comfortable in the other first-class carriage, which
+was not "reserved for ladies," they promised to leave us
+at the second station; but their slow peasant hands fumbled
+at the door so clumsily that the train was under way
+again before the latch had yielded. It was not until we
+had been fellow-travellers for two or three hours that they
+finally stumbled into the neighboring compartment. From
+this the conductor, who had been blind and deaf to past
+proceedings, promptly ejected them, having no mind to let
+them make acquaintance with his wine bottle, and our poor
+exiles cast reproachful glances at us as they were hustled off
+to their own place.</p>
+
+<p>We have sometimes talked enthusiastically of democracy,
+but we did not discuss such exalted subjects then. Indeed,
+we had enough to do in guarding our doors, often by frank
+exercise of muscle, from further intrusion, and in trying to
+provide ourselves with food and water. A struggling mob of
+soldier boys besieged the refreshment stalls at every station,
+and drained the jars of the water-venders long before these
+could arrive at the car windows. At last, by a union of silver
+and violence, we succeeded in gaining from an astounded
+little girl, who was racing after the departing carriages,
+all her stock in trade, even the great russet jar itself,
+with its treasure of cold spring water. The historian
+possesses a special genius for cooking over an alcohol lamp
+on a rocking mountain train, and having augmented our knapsack
+stores with scalded milk and knobby bread from a tavern
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">397</a></span>
+near one of the depots, we lived like feudal barons "of our
+own" for the rest of that memorable journey.</p>
+
+<p>Reminders of the pilgrims were all along our route. Overflowing
+as Santiago's young knights were with martial and romantic
+spirit, when the brigands did not give their steel sufficient
+sport they would break lances for the love of ladies or on any
+other conceivable pretext. We passed the bridge of twenty
+arches, where ten companions in arms once posted themselves
+for ten successive days, and challenged to the tilt every cavalier
+who came that way in journey to the Compostela jubilee.</p>
+
+<p>All the afternoon we were climbing into the hill-country.
+The waste slopes were starred with purple clumps of heather,
+and crossed by light-footed maids, who balanced great bunches
+of bracken on their heads. The patches of green valley,
+walled in by those barren steeps, held each a few tumble-down
+old houses, while elsewhere we noticed human dwellings that
+seemed scarcely more than nests of mud plastered to the stone.
+Yet the soil appeared to be cultivated with the most patient
+thrift,&mdash;wheat and potatoes growing wherever wheat and
+potatoes might. The view became a bewildering medley of
+Scottish hills, Italian skies, and Gothic castles, with occasionally
+a tawny and fantastic rock from the Garden of the Gods.
+The city of Astorga, whose cathedral was founded, so the
+pilgrims used to say, by St. James in his missionary tour,
+greeted us from the midst of the flinty hills. These are the
+home of a singular clan known as the Maragatos. They wear
+a distinctive dress, marry only among themselves, and turn a
+sullen look upon their neighbors.</p>
+
+<p>As night came on, the road grew so rough that we had to
+cork our precious water-jar with a plump lemon. The historian
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">398</a></span>
+was sleeping off her headache, except as I woke her at
+the stations to aid in the defence of our ignoble luxury. We
+remembered that queen of Portugal who made the pilgrimage
+to Compostela on foot, begging her way. In the close-packed
+third-class carriages it must have been a cramped and
+weary night, and we did not wonder that young socialists
+occasionally tried to raid our fortress. But we clung stoutly
+to the door-handles, lustily sounding our war cry of "Ladies
+only" in lieu of "Santiago," and early in the small hours had
+the shamefaced pleasure of seeing the herd of drowsy conscripts,
+with their red and yellow bundles, driven into
+another train, where they were tumbled two or three deep,
+the under layer struggling and protesting. One little fellow,
+nearly smothered in the hurly-burly about the steps, cried out
+pitifully; but the conductor silenced him with angry sarcasm:
+"Dost mean to be a soldier, thou? Or shall we put thee in
+a sugar-bowl and send thee back to mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>There was less need of sentry duty after this, but the night
+was too beautiful for sleep. We were crossing the wild
+Asturian mountains, the Alps of Spain, and a full moon was
+pouring down white lustre on crag, cascade, and gorge. By
+these perilous ways had streamed the many-bannered pilgrim
+hosts,&mdash;men and women of all countries and all tongues
+seeking the Jerusalem of the West. Each nation had its own
+hymn to Santiago, and these, sung to the mingled music of
+bagpipes, timbrels, bugles, flutes, and harps, must have pealed
+out strangely on many a silver night. The poor went begging
+of the rich, and often a mounted crusader cast his purse of broad
+gold pieces on the heather, trusting Santiago and his own good
+sword to see him through. Up and down these sheer ravines
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">399</a></span>
+stumbled the blind and lame, sure of healing if only they could
+reach the shrine. Deaf and dumb went in the pilgrim ranks,
+the mad, the broken-hearted, the sin-oppressed; only the
+troop of lepers held apart. Some of those foot-sore wayfarers,
+most likely the raggedest of all, carried a secret treasure for
+the saint. Some staggered under penitential weights of lead
+and stone, and others bore loads of bars and fetters in token
+of captivity from which St. James had set them free.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_479" id="i_479"></a>
+<img src="images/i_479.jpg" width="416" height="417" alt="St. Paul, the First Hermit" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">St. Paul, the First Hermit</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But these pathetic shapes no longer peopled the moonlight.
+Since it was the nineteenth century, a first-class passenger
+might as well lie down and watch the gracious progress of the
+moon across the heavens,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Oft, as if her head she bowed,</p>
+<p>Stooping through a fleecy cloud."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But the clouds perversely made of themselves wayside
+crosses, urns, cathedral towers; and just as one sky-creature,
+"backed like a weasel" but with the face of Santiago, began
+to puff a monstrous cigarette, I roused my dozing senses and
+discovered that we were entering Lugo, the capital of Galicia,
+and once, under Roman rule, of all Spain.</p>
+
+<p>This city of tumultuous history, stormed by one wild race
+after another, and twice sacked in our own century, first by
+the French and then by the Carlists, lay very peacefully under
+the white dawn. While the chivalrous Spanish sun rose
+unobtrusively, so as not to divert attention from the fading
+graces of the moon, the historian made sustaining coffee, and
+we tried to look as if we liked Galicia. This far northwestern
+province is the B&oelig;otia of Spain; its stupid, patient
+peasantry are the butt of all the Peninsula, and to be called a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">400</a></span>
+Gallego is to be called a fool. The country, as we saw it
+from the train, was broken and hilly, but the Alpine majesty
+of Asturias was gone. In the misty drizzle of rain, which
+soon hushed the pipings of the birds, all the region looked
+wretchedly poor. It was a wooded, watered, well-tilled
+land, with tufts of heather brightly fringing every bank; but
+the houses were mere cabins, where great, gaunt, dark-colored
+pigs pushed in and out among bedraggled hens and half-clad
+children. Women were working in the fields by five o'clock
+in the morning, their saffron and carmine kerchiefs twisted into
+horns above the forehead. Women were serving as porters
+at the stations, carrying heavy trunks and loads of valises on
+their heads. Women were driving the plough, swinging the
+pickaxe in the quarries, mending the railway tracks. Short,
+stout, vigorous brownies they were, and most of them looked
+old.</p>
+
+<p>It was mid-forenoon when we reached Coruña, the seaport
+whence sailed the Invincible Armada. We had meant to
+rest there for the afternoon and night before undertaking the
+forty-mile drive to Santiago, but the hotel was so filthy that,
+tired as we were, there was nothing for it but to go on.
+Tarrying only for bath and breakfast, we took our places in
+a carriage which, setting out at one, promised to bring us
+into Santiago in time for the eight o'clock dinner.</p>
+
+<p>This conveyance was a species of narrow omnibus, which
+an Andalusian, an Englishman, a son of Compostela returning
+home after a long sojourn in foreign parts, his young
+wife of Jewish features, and our weary selves filled to overflowing.
+Our Jehu had agreed to transport the six of us,
+with our effects, for the sum of sixteen dollars; but deep was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">401</a></span>
+our disgust when he piled our handbags, shawl straps, and
+all our lesser properties in upon our wedged and helpless
+forms, and crammed six rough Gallegos, with a reeling load
+of trunks and boxes, on the roof. Remonstrance would be
+futile. The places in the regular diligence were not only
+taken for the afternoon but engaged for several days ahead,
+and carriages are rare birds in Galicia. The Spanish gentlemen
+merely shrugged their shoulders, the Englishman had but
+that morning landed in Spain and could not speak a word of
+the vernacular, and feminine protest was clearly out of order.
+The four puny horses took the top-heavy vehicle at a rattling
+pace down the granite-paved streets of Coruña, but hardly
+were we under way when our griefs began.</p>
+
+<p>On our arrival that forenoon, a fluent porter had over-persuaded
+us to leave our trunk at the station, letting him
+retain the check in order to have the baggage ready for us
+when we should pass the depot <i>en route</i> for Santiago. We
+had been absent scarcely three hours, but meanwhile the
+trunk had disappeared. A dozen tatterdemalions ran hither
+and thither, making as much noise as possible, all the top
+fares shouted contradictory suggestions, and our porter, heaping
+Ossa-Pelions of execration upon the (absent) railroad
+officials, declared that they in their most reprobate stupidity
+had started the trunk on that eighteen-hour journey back to
+Leon. They were dolts and asses, the sons of imbecile
+mothers; but we had only to leave the check with him, and
+in the course of an indefinite number of "to-morrows" he
+would recover our property. We had grown sadder and
+wiser during the last five minutes, however, and insisted on
+taking that soiled inch of paper into our own keeping. At
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">402</a></span>
+this the porter flew into a Spanish rage, flung back his fee
+into my lap, and so eloquently expressed himself that we left
+Coruña with stinging ears.</p>
+
+<p>It was the historian's trunk, stored with supplies for the
+camera, as well as with sundry alleviations of our pilgrim lot,
+but she put it in the category of spilled milk, and turned with
+heroic cheerfulness to enjoy the scenery. The horses had
+now drooped into the snail's pace which they consistently
+maintained through the rest of their long, uphill way, for the
+city of the Apostle stands on a high plateau. As we mounted
+more and more, Coruña, lying between bay and sea, still shone
+clear across the widening reach of smiling landscape. Maize
+and vines were everywhere. So were peasants, who trudged
+along in family troops toward Compostela. But whether
+afoot or astride donkeys of antique countenance, they could
+always outstrip our lumbering coach, and we were an easy
+prey for the hordes of childish bandits who chase vehicles
+for miles along the pilgrim road, shrieking for pennies in the
+name of Santiago.</p>
+
+<p>About two leagues out of Coruña we did pass something,&mdash;a
+group composed of a young Gallego and the most diminutive
+of donkeys. The peasant, walking beside his beast, was
+trying to balance across its back an object unwonted to those
+wilds.</p>
+
+<p>"Strange to see a steamer trunk here!" I remarked, turning
+to the historian; but she was already leaning out from the
+window, inspecting that label-speckled box with an eagle gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"It's mine!" she exclaimed, and in a twinkling had
+startled the driver into pulling up his horses, had leapt from
+the coach, and was running after the peasant, who, for his part,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">403</a></span>
+swerving abruptly from the main road, urged his panting
+donkey up a steep lane. Nobody believed her. Even I, her
+fellow-pilgrim, thought her wits were addling with our penitential
+fasts and vigils, and did not attempt to join in so mad a
+chase. As for the scandalized Spaniards, inside and out, they
+shouted angrily that the thing was impossible and the señora
+was to come back. The coachman roared loudest of all.
+But on she dashed, ran down her man, and bade him, in inspired
+Galician, bring that trunk to the omnibus at once. He
+scratched his head, smiled a child's innocent and trustful smile,
+and, like a true Gallego, did as he was told. By this time
+masculine curiosity had been too much for the driver and
+most of the fares, and they had scrambled after, so that the
+few of us who kept guard by the carriage presently beheld an
+imposing procession advancing along the road, consisting of a
+Galician peasant with a steamer trunk upon his head, a group
+of crestfallen Spaniards, and a Yankee lady, slightly flushed,
+attended by an applauding Englishman.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond a doubt it was her trunk. Her name was there, a
+New York hotel mark, which she had tried to obliterate with
+a blot of Leon ink, and the number corresponding to the
+number of our check. "By Jove!" said the Englishman.
+As for the peasant, he said even less, but in some way gave
+us to understand that he was taking the trunk to a gentleman
+from Madrid. Thinking that there might have been a confusion
+of checks in the station, we gave this childlike native a
+<i>peseta</i> and a card with our Santiago address in case "the
+Madrid gentleman" should suspect us of highway robbery.
+Our fellow-passengers took the tale to Santiago, however; it
+made a graphic column in the local paper, and none of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">404</a></span>
+several Spaniards who spoke to us of the matter there doubted
+that the trunk was stolen by collusion between the porter and
+the peasant.</p>
+
+<p>Our next adventure was more startling yet. The coachman
+had been heard, at intervals, vehemently expostulating
+with a roof passenger who wanted to get down. "Man alive!
+By the staff of Santiago! By your mother's head! By the
+Virgin of the Pillar!" Whether the malcontent had taken
+too much wine, whether he was under legal arrest, whether it
+was merely a crossing of whims, we could not learn from any
+of the impassioned actors in the drama; but, apparently, he
+found his opportunity to slip unnoticed off the coach. For
+suddenly the driver screamed to his horses, and, like a bolt
+from the blue, a handsome, athletic fellow leapt to the ground
+and rushed back along the dusty road, brandishing clenched
+fists and stamping his feet in frenzy. In mid-career he paused,
+struck a stage attitude, tore open his pink shirt, gasped, and
+shook with rage. "Irving isn't in it," quoth the Englishman.
+Then appeared, lurking by the roadside, a slouchy youth, on
+whom our tragic hero sprang like a tiger, threw him down,
+and stood panting over him with a gesture as if to stab. An
+instant later he had seized his victim by the collar, dragged
+him up, and was running him back to the coach. "You hurt
+me," wailed the truant, "and I don't want to go." But go he
+must, being bundled back in short order on the roof, where
+harmony seemed to be immediately restored. While the men
+were struggling, a lordly old peasant, stalking by, surveyed
+them with a peasant's high disdain. We had already noted the
+Irish look of the Galicians, but this magnificent patriarch, with
+dark green waistcoat over a light green shirt, old gold knickerbockers
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">405</a></span>
+and crushed strawberry hose, had as Welsh a face, dark
+and clean-cut, as Snowdon ever saw.</p>
+
+<p>Long sunset shadows lay across the hills; we had shared
+with our companions our slight stores of sweet chocolate,
+bread, and wine, and still we were not halfway to Santiago.
+It was nine o'clock before our groaning equipage drew up at
+a wretched little inn, incredibly foul, where it was necessary
+to bait the exhausted horses. Mine host welcomed the party
+with pensive dignity, and served us, in the midst of all that
+squalor, with the manners of a melancholy count. Shutting
+eyes and noses as far as we could, and blessing eggs for shells
+and fruit for rind, we ate and gathered strength to bear what
+St. James might yet have in store for us.</p>
+
+<p>The diligence had resumed its weary jog; we were all more
+or less asleep, unconsciously using, in our crowded estate, one
+another as pillows, when an uproar from the box and a wild
+lurch of the coach brought us promptly to our waking senses.
+One of the wheel horses was down, and the others, frightened
+by the dragging harness, were rearing and plunging. Out we
+tumbled into the misty night, wondering if we were destined,
+after all, to foot it to Compostela in proper pilgrim fashion.
+The poor beast was mad with terror, and his struggles soon
+brought his mate to the ground beside him. The coachman,
+so pompous and dictatorial at the outset, stood helplessly in
+the road, at a safe distance, wringing his hands and crying like
+a baby: "Alas, poor me! Poor little me! O holy Virgin!
+Santiago!" The top fares, who had made good speed to <i>terra
+firma</i>, were wailing in unison and shrieking senseless counsels.
+"Kill thou the horse! Kill thou the horse!" one of them
+chanted like a Keltic dirge. The coachman supplied the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">406</a></span>
+antiphon: "Kill not my horse! Kill not my horse! <i>Ave
+Maria!</i> Poor little me!" "Fools! Sit on his head,"
+vociferated the Englishman in his vain vernacular. The
+horses seemed to have as many legs as centipedes, kicking all
+at once. The coach was toppling, the luggage pitching, and
+catastrophe appeared inevitable, when Santiago, such an excellent
+horseman himself, inspired one of the roof passengers to
+unbuckle a few straps. The effect was magical. First one
+nag, and then the other, struggled to its feet; the coachman
+sobbed anew, this time for joy; the Spanish gentlemen, who
+had been watching the scene with imperturbable passivity,
+crawled back into the diligence, the silent wife followed with
+the heavy bag which her husband had let her carry all the
+way, and the Anglo-Saxon contingent walked on ahead for
+half an hour to give the spent horses what little relief we
+might.</p>
+
+<p>The clocks were striking two when we reached the gates
+of the sacred city, where fresh hindrance met us. The customs
+officials were on the alert. Who were we that would
+creep into Compostela de Santiago under cover of night, in
+an irregular conveyance piled high with trunks and boxes?
+Smugglers, beyond a doubt! But they would teach us a thing
+or two. We might wait outside till morning.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_490" id="i_490"></a>
+<img src="images/i_490.jpg" width="420" height="540" alt="Maids of Honor" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Maids of Honor</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Delighted boys from a peasant camp beyond the walls ran
+up to jeer at our predicament. Our coachman, reverting to
+his dolorous chant, appealed to all the saints. The top fares
+shrilled in on the chorus; the Spanish gentlemen lighted
+cigarettes, and after some twenty minutes of dramatic altercation,
+a soldier sprang on our top step and mounted guard,
+while the coach rattled through the gates and on to the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">407</a></span>
+<i>aduana</i>. Here we were deposited, bag and baggage, on
+the pavement, and a drowsy, half-clad old dignitary was
+brought forth to look at us. The coachman, all his social
+graces restored, imaginatively presented the three Anglo-Saxons
+as a French party travelling for pleasure. "But
+what am I to do with them?" groaned the dignitary, and
+went back to bed. An appalling group of <i>serenos</i>, in slouch
+hats and long black capes, with lanterns and with staffs topped
+by steel axes, escorted us into a sort of luggage room, and
+told us to sit down on benches. We sat on them for half an
+hour, which seemed to satisfy the ends of justice, for then
+the <i>serenos</i> gave place to porters, who said they would bring
+us our property, which nobody had examined or noticed in
+the slightest, after daybreak, and would now show us the
+way to our hotel. Our farewell to the coachman, who came
+beaming up to shake hands and receive thanks, was cold.</p>
+
+<p>We had engaged rooms by letter a week in advance, but
+they had been surrendered to earlier arrivals, and we were
+conducted to a private house next door to the hotel. After
+the delays incident to waking an entire family, we were
+taken into a large, untidy room, furnished with dining table,
+sewing machine, and a half dozen decrepit chairs. There
+was no water and no sign of toilet apparatus, but in an
+adjoining dark closet were two narrow cots, from which the
+four daughters of the house had just been routed. Of those
+beds which these sleepy children were then, with unruffled
+sweetness and cheeriness, making ready for us, the less said
+the better. Our indoor hours in Compostela, an incessant
+battle against dirt, bad smells, and a most instructive variety
+of vermin, were a penance that must have met all pilgrim
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">408</a></span>
+requirements. And yet these people spared no pains to make
+us comfortable, so far as they understood comfort. At our
+slightest call, were it only for a match, in would troop the
+mother, four daughters, maid, dog, and cat, with any of the
+neighbors who might be visiting, all eager to be of service.
+The girls were little models of sunny courtesy, and would
+have been as pretty of face as they were charming in manner,
+had not skin diseases and eye diseases told the tale of the
+hideously unsanitary conditions in which their young lives
+had been passed.</p>
+
+<p>But we had come to the festival of Santiago, and it was
+worth its price.
+</p>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XXV</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">409</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE BUILDING OF A SHRINE</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">(A historical chapter, which should be skipped.)</p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span>hat most Spanish of Spaniards, Alarcón, is pleased
+in one of his roguish sketches to depict the waywardness
+of a certain poetaster. "Alonso Alonso was
+happy because he was thinking of many sad things,&mdash;of the
+past centuries, vanished like smoke, ... of the little span of
+life and of the absurdities with which it is filled, of the folly
+of wisdom, of the nothingness of ambition, of all this comedy,
+in short, which is played upon the earth."</p>
+
+<p>Alonso Alonso would be in his very element in Santiago de
+Compostela. The "unsubstantial pageant faded" of the
+mediæval world is more than memory there. It is a ghost
+that walks at certain seasons, notably from the twentieth to
+the twenty-eighth of July. The story of the birth, growth,
+and passing of that once so potent shrine, the Jerusalem of the
+West, is too significant for oblivion.</p>
+
+<p>The corner-stone of the strange history is priestly legend.
+The Apostle James the Greater, so runs the tale, after preaching
+in Damascus and along the Mediterranean coast, came in
+a Greek ship to Galicia, then under Roman rule, and proclaimed
+the gospel in its capital city, Iria-Flavia. Here the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">410</a></span>
+Virgin appeared to him, veiled, like the mother of Æneas, in
+a cloud, and bade him build a church. This he did, putting
+a bishop in charge, and then pursued his mission, not only in
+the remote parts of Galicia, but in Aragon, Castile, and Andalusia.
+At Saragossa the Virgin again flashed upon his sight.
+She was poised, this time, on a marble pillar, which she left
+behind her to become, what it is to-day, the most sacred object
+in all Spain. A chip of this <i>columna immobilis</i> is one of the
+treasures of Toledo. The cathedral of the <i>Virgen del Pilar</i>,&mdash;affectionately
+known as Pilarica,&mdash;which James then
+founded at Saragossa, is still a popular goal of pilgrimage, the
+marble of the holy column being hollowed, at one unshielded
+spot, by countless millions of kisses. The Apostle, on his
+return to Jerusalem after seven years in Spain, was beheaded
+by Herod. Loyal disciples recovered the body and set sail
+with it for the Spanish coast. Off Portugal occurred the
+pointless "miracle of the shells." A gentleman was riding
+on the shore, when all at once his horse, refusing to obey the
+bit, leapt into the sea, walking on the crests of the waves
+toward the boat. Steed and rider suddenly sank, but promptly
+rose again, all crusted over with shells, which have been ever
+since regarded as the emblem of St. James in particular, and
+of pilgrim folk in general.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"How should I your true love know</p>
+<p class="i1">From another one?</p>
+<p>By his cockle hat and staff</p>
+<p class="i1">And his sandal shoon."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Santiago "cockle," which thus, as a general pilgrim
+symbol, outstripped the keys of Rome and the cross of Jerusalem,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">411</a></span>
+is otherwise accounted for by a story that the body of St.
+James was borne overseas to Galicia in a shell of miraculous
+size, but this is not the version that was told us at the shrine.</p>
+
+<p>The two disciples, Theodore and Athanasius, temporarily
+interred their master in Padron, two leagues from Iria, until
+they should have obtained permission from the Roman dame
+who governed that region to allow St. James the choice of a
+resting-place. Her pagan heart was moved to graciousness,
+and she lent the disciples an ox-cart, in which they placed the
+body, leaving the beasts free to take the Apostle's course. It
+is hardly miraculous that, under the circumstances, Lady
+Lupa's oxen plodded straight back to Iria and came to a stop
+before her summer villa. Since this was so clearly indicated
+as the choice of the saint, she could do no less than put her
+house at his disposal. In the villa was a chapel to the war-god
+Janus, but when the body of Santiago was brought within
+the doors, this heathen image fell with a crash into a hundred
+fragments. Here the saint abode, guarded by his faithful disciples,
+until, in process of time, they slept beside him. The
+villa had been transformed into a little church, so little that,
+when the Imperial persecutions stormed over the Spanish provinces,
+the worshippers hid it under heaps of turf and tangles
+of brier bushes. Those early Christians of Iria were slain or
+scattered, and the burial place of St. James was forgotten of
+all the world.</p>
+
+<p>In the seventh century, a rumor went abroad that the
+Apostle James had preached the gospel in Spain. The legend
+grew until, in the year 813, a Galician anchorite beheld from
+the mouth of his cavern a brilliant star, which shone persistently
+above a certain bramble-wood in the outskirts of Iria.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">412</a></span>
+Moving lights, as of processional tapers, twinkled through the
+matted screen of shrubbery, and solemn chants arose from the
+very heart of the boscage. Word of this mystery came to
+the bishop, who saw with his own eyes "the glow of many
+candles through the shadows of the night." After three days
+of fasting, he led all the villagers in procession to the thicket
+which had grown up, a protecting hedge, about the ruins of
+the holy house. The three graves were found intact, and on
+opening the chief of these the bishop looked upon the body
+of St. James, as was proven not only by severed head and pilgrim
+staff, but by a Latin scroll. The swiftest horsemen of
+Galicia bore the glorious tidings to the court of the king, that
+most Christian monarch, Alfonso II, "very Catholic, a great
+almsgiver, defender of the Faith." So loved of heaven was
+this pious king, that once, when he had collected a treasure
+of gold and precious stones for the making of a cross, two
+angels, disguised as pilgrims, undertook the work. When,
+after a few hours, Alfonso came softly to the forge to make
+sure of their honesty and skill, no artisans were there, but
+from an exquisitely fashioned cross streamed a celestial glory.
+So devout a king, on hearing the great tidings from Galicia,
+lost no time in despatching couriers to his bishops and
+grandees, and all the pomp and pride of Spain, headed by
+majesty itself, flocked to the far-off hamlet beyond the Asturian
+mountains to adore the relics of Santiago.</p>
+
+<p>Now began grand doings in Iria, known henceforth as the
+Field of the Star, <i>Campus Stellæ</i>, or Compostela. Alfonso had
+a church of stone and clay built above the sepulchre, and
+endowed it with an estate of three square miles. The Pope
+announced the discovery to Christendom. A community of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">413</a></span>
+twelve monks, with a presiding abbot, was installed at Compostela
+to say masses before the shrine. For these beginnings
+of homage the Apostle made a munificent return. A wild people,
+living in a wild land at a wild time, these Spaniards of the
+Middle Ages were shaped and swayed by two sovereign
+impulses, piety and patriotism. These two were practically
+one, for patriotism meant the expulsion of the Moor, and
+piety, Cross above Koran. It was a life-and-death struggle.
+The dispossessed Christians, beaten back from Andalusia and
+Castile to the fastnesses of the northern mountains, were fighting
+against fearful odds. They felt sore need of a leader, for
+although, when their ranks were wavering, the Virgin had
+sometimes appeared to cheer them on, hers, after all, was but
+a woman's arm. It was in the battle of Clavijo, 846, that
+Santiago first flashed into view, an invincible champion of the
+cross.</p>
+
+<p>Rameiro, successor to Alfonso II, had taken the field
+against the terrible Abderrahman of Cordova, who had
+already overrun Valencia and Barcelona and was demanding
+from Galicia a yearly tribute of one hundred maidens. This
+exceedingly Moorish tax, which now amuses Madrid as a rattling
+farce in the summer theatre of the <i>Buen Retiro</i>, was no
+jesting matter then. Not only the most famous warriors of
+the realm, Bernardo del Carpio in their van, but shepherds
+and ploughmen, priests, monks, even bishops, flocked to the
+royal standard.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"A cry went through the mountains when the proud Moor drew near,</p>
+<p>And trooping to Rameiro came every Christian spear;</p>
+<p>The blesséd Saint Iago, they called upon his name:&mdash;</p>
+<p>That day began our freedom, and wiped away our shame."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">414</a></span>
+The hosts of Cross and Crescent met in battle-shock near
+Logroño. Only nightfall saved the Christians from utter
+rout, but in those dark hours of their respite the apparition
+of Santiago bent above their sleeping king. "Fear not,
+Rameiro," said the august lips. "The enemy, master of
+the field, hems you in on every side, but God fights in your
+ranks." At sunrise, in the very moment when the Moslem
+host was bowed in prayer, the Christians, scandalized at the
+spectacle, charged in orthodox fury. Their onset was led
+by an unknown knight, gleaming in splendid panoply of war.
+Far in advance, his left hand waving a snowy banner stamped
+with a crimson cross, he spurred his fierce white horse full
+on the infidel army. His brandished sword "hurled lightning
+against the half-moon." At his every sweeping stroke,
+turbaned heads rolled off by scores to be trampled, as turbaned
+heads deserve, under the hoofs of that snorting steed.
+The Son of Thunder had found his function, which was
+nothing less than to inspirit the Reconquest. Henceforth
+he could always be counted on to lead a desperate assault,
+and "<i>Santiago y Cierra España!</i>" was the battle-cry of
+every hard-fought field. So late as 1212, at the crucial
+contest of Las Navas de Tolosa, the "Captain of the Spaniards"
+saved the day.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever may be thought of such bloody prowess on the
+part of Christ's disciple, the fisherman of Galilee, he could
+not have taken, in that stormy age, a surer course to make
+himself respected. All Europe sprang to do honor to a
+saint who could fight like that. Charlemagne, guided by the
+Milky Way, visited the shrine, if the famous old Codex
+Calixtinus may be believed, with its convincing print of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">415</a></span>
+Apostle sitting upright in his coffin and pointing the great
+Karl to the starry trail. In process of time the Gran Capitan
+came bustling from Granada. The king of Jerusalem did
+not find the road too long, nor did the Pope of Rome count
+it too arduous. England sent her first royal Edward, and
+France more than one royal Louis. Counts and dukes, lords
+and barons, rode hundreds of miles to Compostela, at the
+head of feudal bands which sometimes clashed by the way.
+Saints of every clime and temper made the glorious pilgrimage,&mdash;Gregory,
+Bridget, Bernard, Francis of Assisi.
+To the shrine of St. James came the Cid in radiant youth
+to keep the vigil of arms and receive the honors of knighthood,
+and again, mounted on his peerless Bavieca, to give
+thanks for victory over the five Moorish kings. It was on
+this second journey that he succored the leper, inviting him,
+with heroic disdain of hygiene, to be his bedfellow "in a
+great couch with linen very clean and costly."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_499" id="i_499"></a>
+<img src="images/i_499.jpg" width="623" height="374" alt="Dancing the Sevillana" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Dancing the Sevillana</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Even in the ninth century such multitudes visited the
+sepulchre that a society of hidalgos was formed to guard the
+pilgrims from bandits along that savage route, serve them as
+money-changers in Compostela, and in all possible ways protect
+them from robbery and ill-usage. This brotherhood gave
+birth to the famous Order of Santiago, whose two vows were
+to defend the pilgrims and fight the Mussulmans. These
+red-cross knights were as devout as they were valiant,
+"lambs at the sound of the church-bells and lions at the call
+of the trumpet." Kings and popes gave liberally to aid their
+work. Roads were cut through Spain and France, even
+Italy and Germany, "to Santiago." Forests were cleared,
+morasses drained, bridges built, and rest-houses instituted, as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">416</a></span>
+San Marcos at Leon and the celebrated hostelry of Roncesvalles.
+Compostela had become a populous city, but a city
+of inns, hospitals, and all variety of conventual and religious
+establishments. Even to-day it can count nearly three hundred
+altars. In the ninth century the modest church of
+Alfonso II was replaced by an ornate edifice rich in treasures,
+but in the gloomy tenth century, when Christian energies
+were arrested by the dread expectation of the end of the
+world, the Moors overran Galicia and laid the holy city
+waste. The Moslem general, Almanzor, had meant to
+shatter the urn of Santiago, but when he entered Compostela
+with his triumphant troops, he found only one defender there,
+an aged monk sitting silent on the Apostle's tomb. The
+magnanimous Moor did not molest him, nor the ashes his
+feebleness guarded better than strength, but took abundant
+booty. When Almanzor marched to the south again, four
+thousand Galician captives bore on their shoulders the treasures
+of the Apostle, even the church-bells and sculptured
+doors, to adorn the mosque of Cordova. The fresh courage
+of the eleventh century began the great Romanesque cathedral
+of Santiago. Donations poured in from all over Europe.
+Pilgrims came bowed under the weight of marble and granite
+blocks for the fabric. Young and old, men and women,
+beggars and peasants, princes and prelates, had a hand in the
+building, cutting short their prayers to mix mortar and hew
+stone. Artists from far-off lands, who had come on pilgrimage,
+lingered for years, often for lifetimes, in Compostela,
+making beautiful the dwelling of the saint.</p>
+
+<p>The great epoch of Santiago was the twelfth century, when
+there succeeded to the bishopric the able and ambitious Diego
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">417</a></span>
+Gelmirez, who resolved that Compostela should be recognized
+as the religious centre of Spain, and be joined with Jerusalem
+and Rome in a trinity of the supreme shrines of Christendom.
+He was a man of masterly resource, persistence, pluck. Not
+too scrupulous for success, he found all means good that made
+toward the accomplishment of his one splendid dream. The
+clergy of Santiago, who had hitherto borne but dubious repute,
+he subjected to instruction and to discipline, calling learned
+priests from France to tutor them, and sending his own, as
+they developed promise, to sojourn in foreign monasteries.
+He zealously promoted the work on the cathedral, rearing
+arches proud as his aspiration, and watch-towers strong as
+his will. He invested the sacred ceremonies, especially the
+ecclesiastical processions, with extraordinary pomp, so that
+the figure of Alfonso VI, conqueror of Toledo, advancing
+through the basilica in such a solemn progress, appeared less
+imposing than the bishop himself, crowned with white mitre,
+sceptred with ivory staff, and treading in his gold-embroidered
+sandals upon the broad stones that pave the church as if on
+an imperial palace floor. Gelmirez was indefatigable, too, in
+building up the city. Eager to swell the flood of pilgrimage,
+he founded in Compostela, already a cluster of shrines and
+hostelries, still more churches, inns, asylums, hospitals, together
+with convents, libraries, schools, and all other recognized
+citadels of culture. He fought pestilence and dirt,
+introducing an excellent water supply, and promoting, so far
+as he knew how, decent and sanitary living. He was even
+a patron of agriculture, bringing home from his foreign journeys,
+which took him as far as Rome, packets of new seed
+slipped in among parcels of jewels and no less precious budgets
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">418</a></span>
+of saintly molars and knuckle-bones. But these missions
+abroad, having always for chief object the pressing of
+his petition upon the Holy See, involved costly presents to
+influential prelates, especially the red-capped cardinals. The
+revenue for such bribes he wrung from the Galician peasantry,
+who gave him a measure of hate with every measure of grain.
+Gelmirez had so many uses for money that no wonder his
+taxes cut down to the quick. The lavish offerings sent by
+sea to the shrine of Santiago, ruby-crusted crucifixes of pure
+gold, silver reliquaries sparkling with emeralds and jacinths,
+pontifical vestments of richest tissue and of rarest artistry,
+well-chased vessels of onyx, pearl, and jasper, all that constant
+influx of glistening tribute from the length and breadth of
+Christendom, had drawn Moorish pirates to the Galician waters.
+To guard the treasure-ships, repel the infidels, and, incidentally,
+return tit for tat by plundering their galleys, the warrior
+bishop equipped a formidable fleet, and kept it on patrol off
+the coast,&mdash;a strange development from the little fishing-boat
+whence James and John trailed nets in the lake of Galilee.</p>
+
+<p>The audacity of Gelmirez reached its height in his struggle
+with the Queen Regent, Urraca of unlovely memory, for the
+control of the child king, Alfonso VII. This boy was the
+grandson of Alfonso VI, "Emperor of Spain," who survived
+all his legitimate children except Urraca. The father of the
+little Alfonso, Count Raymond of Burgundy, was dead, and
+Urraca had taken a second husband, Alfonso the Battle-maker.
+The situation was complicated. The Battle-maker wore the
+crowns of Aragon and Navarre, Urraca was queen of Leon
+and Castile, while the child, by his grandfather's will, inherited
+the lordship of Galicia. The Bishop of Santiago, who
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">419</a></span>
+baptized the baby, had strenuously opposed Urraca's second
+marriage. As that lady had, nevertheless, gone her own wilful
+way, setting at naught the bishop's remonstrance and
+inciting Galicia to revolt against his tyranny, Gelmirez had
+kidnapped the royal child, a puzzled little majesty of four
+summers, and solemnly crowned and anointed him before the
+High Altar of St. James, declaring himself the protector of the
+young sovereign. Urraca soon wearied of her Aragonese
+bridegroom, and, casting him off, took up arms to defend her
+territories against his invasion. The powerful bishop came
+to her aid with men and money, but exacted in exchange an
+oath of faithful friendship, which Urraca gave and broke and
+gave again. Meanwhile the popular hatred swelled so high
+against Gelmirez that an open insurrection, in which many
+of his own clergy took part, drove him and the Queen to seek
+refuge in one of the cathedral towers, while the rebels burned
+and pillaged in the church below. The bishop barely escaped
+with his life, fleeing in disguise from Compostela; but soon
+the baffled conspirators saw him at his post again, punishing,
+pardoning, rebuilding&mdash;as indomitable as St. James himself.
+The election of Diego's friend, Calixtus II, to the papacy,
+gave him his supreme opportunity. Money was the prime
+requisite, and Gelmirez, not for the first nor second time,
+borrowed of the Apostle, selling treasures from the sacristy.
+The sums so raised were carried to the Pope, across the
+bandit-peopled mountains, by a canon of Santiago masquerading
+as a beggar, and by a trusty group of particularly ragged
+pilgrims. This proof of ecclesiastical ripeness overcame all
+papal scruples, and Calixtus, despite the clamor of enemies
+and rivals, raised Santiago to the coveted archbishopric.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">420</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The first half of his great purpose effected, Gelmirez strove
+with renewed energy to wrest from Toledo the primacy of
+Spain. He fortified Galicia, hurled his fleet against Moorish
+and English pirates, built himself an archiepiscopal palace
+worthy of his hard-won dignities, stole from Portugal the
+skeletons of four saints to enhance the potency of Santiago,
+and made much of the skull of the Apostle James the Less,
+which Urraca had presented in one of her fits of amity. But
+this time the reverend robber was not destined to success.
+The Archbishop of Toledo formed a powerful party against
+him, Calixtus died, even the king, whom Gelmirez had armed
+knight in the cathedral of Santiago and had crowned a second
+time at Leon, grew restive under the dictation of his old tutor.
+The smouldering hatred of Galicia again flamed out. The
+aged archbishop once more had to see his church polluted, its
+treasures plundered, its marvels of carved work, stained glass,
+and gold-threaded vestments spoiled and wasted by that senseless
+rabble which had twisted out from under his heavy foot.
+Faint and bleeding from a wound in his head, too white a head,
+for all its pride, to be battered with stones, Gelmirez had
+almost fallen a victim to the mob, when two of his canons
+snatched him back to the refuge of the High Altar, barring
+the iron-latticed doors of the <i>Capilla Major</i> against those savage
+sheep of his pasture. The outrage was so flagrant that, for very
+shame, pope and king, though both had accepted the bribes of
+his enemies, responded to his appeal, and assisted him to
+resume that rigorous sway which lasted, all told, for something
+like forty years.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the man and such the process that made the
+shrine of Santiago the third in rank of mediæval Christendom.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">421</a></span>
+Under the rule of Gelmirez Compostela had become
+one of the principal cities of the Peninsula, a seat of arts and
+sciences where Spanish nobles were proud to build them
+palaces and to educate their sons. The mighty influx of pilgrims,
+which went on without abatement century after century,
+nearly twenty-five hundred licenses being granted, in the single
+year 1434, to cockle-hatted visitors from England alone, filled
+the place with business. Inn-keepers, physicians, money-changers,
+merchants were in flourishing estate, and a number
+of special industries developed. One street was taken up by
+booths for the sale of polished shells. Another bears still the
+name of the jet-workers, whose rosaries, crucifixes, stars,
+gourds, staffs, and amulets were in high demand. Souvenirs
+of Santiago, little crosses delicately cut and chased, mimic
+churches, towers, shrines gave employ to scores of artists in
+silver and mother-of-pearl. The enormous revenue from the
+sale of phials of healing oil and from the consecrated candles
+must needs go to the Apostle, but the cunning craftsmen who
+loaded their stalls with love-charms had a well-nigh equal
+patronage.</p>
+
+<p>The finished cathedral was consecrated in 1211, and in
+1236 the royal saint, Fernando III, sent to Compostela a
+train of Mohammedan captives, bringing back on their
+shoulders the bells Almanzor had taken. These had been
+hung, inverted, in the beautiful mosque of Cordova to serve
+as lamps for the infidel worship, but at last St. James had his
+own again. Thus Santiago trampled on the Moors, and his
+ashes, or what had passed for his ashes, slept in peace, with
+nothing to do but work miracles on blind and crippled
+pilgrims, until, in 1589, an army of English heretics, led by
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">422</a></span>
+the horrible Drake, landed in Galicia. These Lutheran dogs
+were not worthy of a miracle. The archbishop and his
+canons, with the enemy hammering on the gates of Compostela,
+hastily took up and reburied the three coffins of the
+original shrine, so secretly that they could not be found again.
+In 1879, however, a miscellany of brittle bits of bone was
+brought to light by a party of determined seekers, and these
+repulsive fragments, after scientific analysis conducted in an
+ecclesiastical spirit, were declared to be portions of three
+skeletons which might be ages old. Leo XIII clenched the
+matter by "authenticating" one of them, apparently chosen
+at random, as the body of Santiago. But although for us
+of the perverse sects, the contents of that magnificent silver
+casket, the centre of the Santiago faith, could arouse no thrill
+of worship, the Pilgrim City itself and its storied, strange
+cathedral were the most impressive sights of Spain.
+</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_410" id="i_410"></a>
+<img src="images/i_410.jpg" width="602" height="415" alt="Within the Cloister" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Within the Cloister</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XXVI</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">423</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">THE SON OF THUNDER</p>
+<div class="poem p2">
+<p class="o1">"Thou shield of that faith which in Spain we revere,</p>
+<p>Thou scourge of each foeman who dares to draw near,</p>
+<p>Whom the Son of that God who the elements tames</p>
+<p>Called child of the thunder, immortal Saint James."</p>
+
+<p class="i10">&mdash;<i>Hymn to Santiago</i>, in George Borrow's translation.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">F</span>atigues of the journey and discomforts of our
+lodging melted from memory like shadows of the
+night when we found ourselves, on the morning of
+July twenty-fourth, before that rich, dark mass of fretted
+granite, a majestic church standing solitary in the midst of
+spreading <i>plazas</i>. These are surrounded by stately buildings,
+the archiepiscopal palace with its memories of Gelmirez,
+the royal hospital founded by Ferdinand and Isabella for
+the succor of weary pilgrims, ancient colleges with sculptured
+façades, marvellous old convents whose holy fathers were
+long since driven out by royal decree into hungry, homesick
+exile, and the columned city hall with its frontal relief of the
+battle of Clavijo and its crowning statue of St. James. The
+great, paved squares, the magnificent stairways and deeply
+recessed portals were aglow with all Galicia. Peasants in
+gala dress, bright as tropic birds, stood in deferential groups
+about the pilgrims, for there were actual pilgrims on the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">424</a></span>
+scene, men and women whose broad hats and round capes
+were sewn over with scallop-shells, and whose long staffs
+showed little gourds fastened to the upper end. They wore
+rosaries and crucifixes in profusion, and their habit was spangled
+with all manner of charms and amulets, especially the
+tinsel medals with their favorite device of St. James riding
+down the Moors. We bought at one of the stalls set up
+before the doors for sale of holy wares a memento of the
+famous old jet-work, a tiny black hand, warranted, if hung
+about the neck, to cure disorders of the eyes. We fell to
+chatting with a pilgrim who was shod in genuine sandal
+shoon. A large gourd was tied to his belt, the rim of his
+hat was turned up at one side and caught there with a rosy-tinted
+shell, and his long, black ringlets fell loose upon his
+shoulders, framing a romantic Dürer face. He talked with
+us in German, saying that he was of Wittemberg, and once
+a Lutheran, but had been converted to the true faith on a
+previous visit to Spain. Since then he had footed his penitential
+way to Jerusalem and other distant shrines. As his
+simple speech ran on, we seemed to see the mountains round
+about Santiago crossed by those converging streams of mediæval
+pilgrims, all dropping on their knees at the first glimpse
+of the cathedral towers. With that sight the fainting were
+refreshed, the lame ran, and jubilant songs of praise to Santiago
+rolled out in many languages upon the air.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Primus ex apostolis,</p>
+<p>Martir Jerusolinus,</p>
+<p>Jacobus egregio,</p>
+<p>Sacer est martirio."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>In those Ages of Faith all the gates of the city were choked
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">425</a></span>
+with the incoming tide, the hostels and cure-houses overflowed,
+and the broad <i>plazas</i> about the cathedral were filled with dense
+throngs of pilgrims, massed nation by nation, flying their
+national colors, singing their national hymns to the strangely
+blended music of their national instruments, and watching for
+the acolyte who summoned them, company by company, into
+the august presence-chamber of St. James. His shrine they
+approached only in posture of lowliest reverence. Even
+now, at the end of the nineteenth century, our first glance, as
+we entered the lofty, dim, and incense-perfumed nave, fell on
+a woman-pilgrim dragging herself painfully on her knees up
+the aisle toward the High Altar, and often falling prostrate to
+kiss the pavement with groans and tears.</p>
+
+<p>Mediæval pilgrims, when they had thus won their way to
+the entrance of the <i>Capilla Mayor</i>, and there received three
+light blows from a priestly rod in token of chastisement, were
+granted the due indulgences and, in turn, laid their offerings
+before the great white altar. Still there sits, in a niche above,
+the thirteenth-century image of St. James, a colossal figure
+wrought of red granite, with stiffly flowing vestments of elaborately
+figured gilt. His left hand grasps a silver staff, with
+gilded gourd atop, and his right, whose index finger points
+downward to the burial vault, holds a scroll inscribed, "Hic
+est corpus divi Jacobi Apostoli ac Hispaniarum Patroni."
+Once he wore a broad-brimmed hat all of pure gold, but this
+was melted down by Marshal Ney in the French invasion.
+At that time the sacred vessels were heaped like market produce
+into great ox-carts, until the cathedral had been plundered
+of ten hundredweight of treasure. It was "the end of the
+pilgrimage" to climb the steps behind this statue and kiss its
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">426</a></span>
+resplendent silver cape, studded with cockle-shells and besprinkled
+with gems. But the pilgrims of the past had much
+more to see and worship,&mdash;the jewelled crown of the Apostle
+set upon the altar, his very hat and staff, the very axe that
+beheaded him, and other relics to which the attention of the
+modern tourist, at least, is not invited. Yet even we were
+conducted to the Romanesque crypt beneath the High Altar,
+where stands another altar of red marble, decorated by a
+relief of two peacocks drinking from a cup. This altar is
+surmounted by a bronze pedestal, which bears the sumptuous
+ark-shaped casket with its enshrined handfuls of dubious dust.</p>
+
+<p>Our latter-day pilgrims seemed well content with the measure
+of wealth and sanctity which Moorish sack and English piracy,
+French invasion and Carlist wars, had spared to the cathedral.
+In the matter of general relics, nevertheless, Santiago suffers
+by comparison with the neighbor cathedral of Oviedo, which
+proudly shows a silver-plated old reliquary, believed by the
+devout to have been brought in the earliest Christian times
+from Rome. This chest contains, in addition to the usual
+pieces of the true cross and thorns from the crown, such
+remarkable mementos as St. Peter's leathern wallet, crumbs
+left over from the Feeding of the Five Thousand, bits of
+roast fish and honeycomb from Emmaus, bread from the
+Last Supper, manna from the wilderness, a portion of Moses'
+rod and the mantle of Elijah. Oviedo possesses, too, that
+famous cross which the angels made for Alfonso II, and one
+of the six water-jars of Cana. But the relic chapel of Santiago
+makes up in quantity whatever it may lack in quality,
+holding bones, garments, hair-tresses, and like memorials of a
+veritable army of martyrs, even to what Ford disrespectfully
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">427</a></span>
+calls "sundry parcels of the eleven thousand Virgins." Special
+stress is laid on a Calvary thorn which turns blood-red
+every Good Friday, and a drop, forever fresh, of the Madonna's
+milk. If pilgrims are not satisfied with these, they can walk
+out to Los Angeles, an adjacent village, whose church was
+built by the angels. Eccentric architects they were in choosing
+to connect their edifice with the cathedral of Santiago by
+an underground beam of pure gold, formerly one of the
+rafters in God's own house.</p>
+
+<p>We had speech of several pilgrims that first morning. One
+was a middle-aged, sun-browned, stubby little man, whom
+during the ensuing week we saw again and again in the cathedral,
+but never begging, with the most of the pilgrims, at the
+portals, nor taking his ease in the cloisters,&mdash;a social promenade
+where the laity came to gossip and the clergy to puff
+their cigarettes. This humble worshipper seemed to pass all
+the days of the festival in enraptured adoration, on his knees
+now before one shrine, now before another. We found him
+first facing the supreme architectural feature of the cathedral,
+that sublime and yet most lovely <i>Portico de la Gloria</i>. He
+was gazing up at its paradise of sculptured saints and angels,
+whose plumes and flowing robes still show traces of azure,
+rose, and gold, with an expression of naive ecstasy. He told
+us that he came from Astorga, and had been nine days on the
+way. He spent most of his time upon the road, he added,
+visiting especially the shrines of the Virgin. "Greatly it
+pleases me to worship God," he said, with sparkling eyes, and
+ran on eagerly, as long as we would listen, about the riches
+and splendors of different cathedrals, and especially the robes
+and jewels of the <i>Virgen del Pilar</i>. He seemed in his devout
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">428</a></span>
+affection to make her wealth his own. One of the most
+touching effects of the scene was the childlike simplicity with
+which the poor of Galicia, coming from such vile hovels, felt
+themselves at home in the dwelling of their saint. Not even
+their sins marred their sense of welcome. In the cloisters we
+encountered an old woman in the pilgrim dress, her staff wound
+with gay ribbons, limping from her long jaunt. She told us
+frankly that she was "only a beggar" in her own village, and
+had come for the outing as well as to please the priest, who,
+objecting to certain misdemeanors which she had the discretion
+not to specify, had prescribed this excursion as penance. She
+was a lively old soul, and was amusing herself mightily with
+the Goya tapestries, and others, that adorned the cloisters in
+honor of the time. "You have a book and can read," she
+said, "and you will understand it all, but what can I understand?
+I can see that this is a queen, and she is very fine,
+and that those are butchers who are killing a fat pig. But
+we who are poor may understand little in this world except
+the love of God." Others of the pilgrims were village folk
+of Portugal, and, taken all together, these modern wearers of
+the shell were but a sorry handful as representing those noble
+multitudes who came, in ages past, to bow before the shrine.
+The fourteen doors of the cathedral then stood open night
+and day, and the grotesque lions leaning out over the lintels
+could boast that there was no tongue of Europe which their
+stone ears had not heard. Three open doors suffice in the
+feast days now, but with the new flood of faith that has set
+toward Lourdes, pilgrimages to Santiago, as to other Latin
+shrines, are beginning to revive.</p>
+
+<p>Mass was over at the late hour of our arrival, but nave and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">429</a></span>
+aisles, transepts and cloisters, hummed with greetings of friends,
+laughter of children, who sported unrebuked about those stately
+columns, and the admiring exclamations of strangers. We
+were often accosted in Spanish and in French and asked from
+what country we came, and if we "loved the beautiful church
+of the Apostle." When we were occasionally cornered, and
+driven in truthfulness to say that we were Yankees, our more
+intelligent interlocutors looked us over with roguish scrutiny,
+but increased rather than abated their courtesies. As for the
+peasants, their geography is safely limited. Noticing that our
+Spanish differed from theirs, they said we must be from Castile,
+or, at the most, from Portugal. At all events we were
+strangers to Santiago, and they merrily vied with one another
+in showing us about and giving us much graphic information
+not to be found in guide-books.</p>
+
+<p>Much of their lore appears to be of their own invention.
+The superb <i>Puerta de la Gloria</i>, wrought by a then
+famous architect sent from the king of Leon, but known
+to us to-day only as Master Mateo, was the fruit of twenty
+years' labor. This triple porch, which runs across the west
+end of the nave, being finally completed, Master Mateo seems
+to have symbolized the dedication of his service to the Apostle
+in a kneeling statue of himself, facing the east, with back to
+the richly sculptured pillar of the chief portal. The head of
+this figure is worn almost as round and expressionless as a
+stone ball by the caresses of generations of childish hands.
+The little girls whom we watched that morning as they patted
+and smoothed the much-enduring pate told us, kissing the
+marble eyes, that this was a statue of St. Lucia, which it
+certainly is not. In another moment these restless midgets
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">430</a></span>
+were assaulting, with fluent phrases of insult, the carven
+faces of certain fantastic images which form the bases of the
+clustered columns. The children derisively thrust their feet
+down the yawning throats, kicked the grotesque ears and
+noses, and in general so maltreated their Gothic victims that
+we were moved to remonstrate.</p>
+
+<p>"But why should you abuse them? What are these creatures,
+to be punished so?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>They are Jews</i>," hissed our little Christians with an
+emphasis that threw new light on the Dreyfus <i>affaire</i>. But
+an instant more, and these vivacious, capricious bits of Spanish
+womanhood were all absorbed in aiding a blind old peasant
+who had groped her way to the sacred Portico for its especial
+privilege of prayer. The central shaft, dividing into two the
+chief of the three doorways, represents the Tree of Jesse, the
+patriarchal figures half-enveloped in exquisitely sculptured
+foliage. The chiselled capital shows the Trinity, Dove and
+Son and Father, with adoring angels. Above sits a benignant
+St. James, whose throne is guarded by lions, and over all, in
+the central tympanum of the sublime doorway, is a colossal
+figure of our Lord, uplifting His wounded hands. About
+Him are grouped the four Evangelists, radiant with eternal
+youth, and eight angels bearing the instruments of the Passion,
+the pillar of the scourging, whips, the crown of thorns, the
+nails, the scroll, the sponge, the spear, the cross. Other
+angels burn incense before Him, and the archivolt above is
+wrought with an ecstatic multitude of elders, martyrs, and
+saints, so vivid after all these centuries that one can almost
+hear the blithe music of their harps. It is the Christ of Paradise,
+enthroned amid the blest, to whom His presence gives
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">431</a></span>
+fulness of joy forevermore. Above the lesser doors on either
+side are figured Purgatory and Hell. The fresh and glowing
+beauty, so piquant and yet so spiritual, the truly celestial
+charm of this marvellous Portico which Street did not fear to
+call "one of the greatest glories of Christian art," was never,
+during this festal week, without its throng of reverent beholders,
+the most waiting their turn, like our old blind peasant,
+to fit thumb and finger into certain curious little hollows
+on the central shaft, and thus offer prayer which was sure of
+answer. Minute after minute for unbroken hours, the hands
+succeeded one another there,&mdash;old, knotted, toilworn hands,
+the small, brown hands of children, jewelled hands of delicate
+ladies, and often, as now, the groping hand of blindness, with
+childish fingers helping it to find those mystical depressions in
+the agate. Some of the bystanders told us that St. James had
+descended from his seat above the capital, and laid his hand
+against the column, leaving these traces, but more would have
+it that the Christ Himself had come down by night from the
+great tympanum to place His wounded hand upon the shaft.
+Street records that he observed several such petitioners, after
+removing the hand, spit into the mouths of the winged dragons
+that serve as base to the pillar; but that literally dare-devil
+form of amen must now have gone out of fashion, for we did
+not see it once.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_519" id="i_519"></a>
+<img src="images/i_519.jpg" width="416" height="624" alt="The Trampler of the Moors" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Trampler of the Moors</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Toward noon we strolled out into the grand <i>plaza</i> before
+the west façade and found it a multitudinous jam of expectant
+merrymakers. Even nuns were peeping down from a leaf-veiled
+balcony. We seemed to have been precipitated out of
+the Middle Ages into an exaggerated Fourth of July. All the
+city bells were pealing, rockets and Roman candles were sputtering,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">432</a></span>
+and grotesque fire-balloons, let off from a parapet of the
+cathedral, flourished bandy legs and "Sagasta noses" in the
+resigned old faces of the carven images. And then, amid
+the acclamations of all the small boys in the square, sallied
+forth the Santiago giants. These wickerwork monsters,
+eight all told, are supposed to represent worshippers from
+foreign lands. They go by couples, two being conventional
+pilgrims with "cockle-shell and sandal shoon"; two apparently
+Moors, with black complexions, feather crowns, and
+much barbaric finery; two nondescripts, possibly the French
+of feudal date; and two, the leaders and prime favorites,
+regular Punch caricatures of modern English tourists. John
+Bull is a stout old gentleman with gray side-whiskers, a vast
+expanse of broadcloth back, and a single eye-glass secured by
+a lavender ribbon. The British Matron, in a smart Dolly
+Varden frock, glares with a shocked expression from under
+flaxen puffs and an ostrich-feathered hat. The popular attitude
+of mind toward these absurdities is past all finding out.
+Not the children alone, but the entire assemblage greeted them
+with affectionate hilarity. The giants, propelled by men who
+walked inside them and grinned out on the world from a slit
+in the enormous waistbands, trundled about the square, followed
+by the antics of a rival group of dwarfs from the city
+hall, and then made the round of the principal streets, executing
+clumsy gambols before the public buildings.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning after, July twenty-fifth, the great day
+of the feast, anniversary of the Apostle's martyrdom, these
+same overgrown dolls played a prominent part in the solemn
+cathedral service. The Chapter passed in stately progress to
+the archbishop's palace to fetch his Eminence, and later to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">433</a></span>
+the ancient portals where the silver-workers once displayed
+their wares, to greet the Royal Delegate. At their head
+strutted this absurd array of giants. The High Mass was
+superb with orchestral music and the most sumptuous robes
+of the vestiary. The "King of Censers," the splendid <i>botafumeiro</i>
+of fourteenth-century date, made so large, six feet high,
+with the view of purifying the cathedral air vitiated by the
+hordes of pilgrims who were wont to pass the night sleeping
+and praying on the holy pavements, flashed its majestic curves,
+a mighty fire bird, from roof to floor and from transept to transept.
+It is swung from the ceiling by an ingenious iron
+mechanism, and the leaping, roaring flames, as the huge censer
+sweeps with ever augmenting speed from vault to vault,
+tracing its path by a chain of perfumed wreaths, make the
+spectacle uniquely beautiful. Knights of Santiago, their
+white raiment marked by crimson sword and dagger, received
+from the Royal Delegate "a thousand crowns of gold," the
+annual state donation, instituted by Rameiro, to the patron
+saint. The Delegate, kneeling before the image of Santiago,
+prayed fervently that the Apostle would accept this offering
+of the regent, a queen no less devout than the famous mother
+of San Fernando, and would raise up Alfonso XIII to be
+another Fernando, winning back for Spain her ocean isles
+which the heretics had wrested away, even as Fernando restored
+to Compostela the cathedral doors and bell which the
+infidel Moors had stolen. His Eminence, who is said to
+have accumulated a fortune during his previous archbishopric
+in Cuba, in turn besought St. James to protect Catholic
+Spain against "those who invoke no right save brute force,
+and adore no deity except the golden calf." In most magnificent
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">434</a></span>
+procession the silver casket was borne around the
+nave among the kneeling multitudes. And then, to crown
+these august ceremonies, forth trotted our friends, the giants,
+into the open space before the <i>Capilla Mayor</i>. Here the six
+subordinate boobies paused, grouping themselves in a ludicrous
+semicircle, while pompous John Bull and his ever scandalized
+British Matron went up into the Holy of Holies and
+danced, to the music of guitars and tambourines, in front of the
+High Altar.</p>
+
+<p>Every day of that festal week the cathedral services were
+attended by devout throngs, yet there was something blithe
+and social, well-nigh domestic, in the atmosphere of the scene
+even at the most impressive moments. Kneeling groups of
+peasant women caught the sunshine on their orange kerchiefs
+and scarlet-broidered shawls. Here a praying father would
+gather his little boy, sobbing with weariness, up against his
+breast; there a tired pilgrim woman slumbered in a corner,
+her broad hat with its cockle-shells lying on her knees. Rows
+of kneeling figures waited at the wooden confessionals which
+were thick set along both aisles and ambulatory. Several
+times we saw a priest asleep in the confessional, those who
+would pour out their hearts to him kneeling on in humble
+patience, not venturing to arouse the holy father. Young
+officers, leaning against the pillars, smiled upon a school of
+Spanish girls, who, guarded by veiled nuns, knelt far along
+the transept. Pilgrims, standing outside the door to gather
+alms, vied with one another in stories of their travels and the
+marvels they had seen.</p>
+
+<p>But at night, walking in the illuminated <i>alameda</i>, where
+thousands of Japanese lanterns and colored cups of flame
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">435</a></span>
+made a fantastic fairyland, or dancing their country dances,
+singing their country songs, practising their country sports,
+and gazing with tireless delight at the fireworks in the
+spacious <i>Plaza de Alfonso Doce</i>, the worshippers gave themselves
+up to frankest merriment. Through the days, indeed,
+there was never any lack of noisy jollity. From dawn to
+dawn again cannon were booming, drums beating, bagpipes
+skirling, tambourines clattering, songs and cries resounding
+through the streets. Four patients in the hospital died the year
+before, we were told, from the direct effects of this continuous
+uproar. But the thunder height of the <i>fiesta</i> is attained toward
+midnight on the twenty-fourth, the "Eve of Santiago," when
+rockets and fire-balloons are supplemented by such elaborate
+devices as the burning of "capricious trees" and the destruction
+of a Moorish façade built for the occasion out from the
+west front of the cathedral. At the first ignition of the
+powder there come such terrific crashes and reverberating
+detonations, such leaps and bursts of flame, that the peasant
+host sways back and the children scream. An Arabic doorway
+with ornate columns, flanked on either side by a wall of
+many arches and surmounted by a blood-red cross, dazzles
+out into overwhelming brilliancy, all in greens and purples,
+a glowing, scintillating, ever changing vision. Soon it is
+lustrous white and then, in perishing, sends up a swift succession
+of giant rockets. The façade itself is a very Alhambra
+of fret and arabesque. This, too, with thunder bursts
+reveals itself as a flame-colored, sky-colored, sea-colored
+miracle, which pales to gleaming silver and, while we read
+above it the resplendent words "The Patron of Spain," is
+blown to atoms as a symbol of Santiago's victory over the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">436</a></span>
+Moors. This makes an ideal Spanish holiday, but the cost,
+borne by the city, is heavy, there is distinct and increasing
+injury to the cathedral fabric, and all this jubilee for archaic
+victories over the Moslem seems to be mocked by the hard
+facts of to-day.</p>
+
+<p>The Santiago festivities, of which the half has not been
+told, closed on Thursday afternoon, July twenty-seventh, with
+a procession through the streets. We waited a weary while
+for it before the doors where the old jet-workers used to set
+their booths, amusing ourselves meantime by watching the
+house maids drawing water from the fountain in the square
+below. These sturdy Galicians were armed with long tin
+tubes which they dextrously applied to the spouting mouths
+of the fountain griffins, so directing the stream into the
+straight, iron-bound pails. Not far away the market women
+covered the flags with red and golden fruit. A saucy beggar-wench,
+with the blackest eyes in Spain, demanded alms, and
+when we had yielded up the usual toll of coppers, loudly
+prayed to Santiago to pardon us for not having given her
+more on this his holy festival. At last out sallied the band,
+followed by those inevitable giants, and amid mad ringing of
+bells and fizzing of invisible rockets, forth from the venerable
+portals issued standards, crosses, tapers, priests in white and
+gold, and platformed effigies of pilgrims, saints, and deities.
+Then came bishops, cardinals, and archbishop, ranks of
+military bearing tapers, the alcalde and his associates in the
+city government with antique escort of bedizened mace-bearers,
+a sparkling statue of St. James on horseback busily
+beheading his legions of Moors, a bodyguard of all the
+pilgrims in attendance on his saintship, and finally the <i>Virgen del Pilar</i>,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">437</a></span>
+at whose passing all the concourse fell upon their
+knees. Churches in the line of march had their own images
+decked and ready, waiting in the colonnaded porches to fall
+into the procession. The market women and the maids at
+the fountain threw kisses to the Christ Child, leaning in blue
+silk frock and white lace tucker against a cross of roses, but
+the boys waved their caps for St. Michael, debonair that
+he was with blowing crimson robe, real feather wings fluttering
+in the breeze, and his gold foot set on the greenest of
+dragons.</p>
+
+<p>The procession came home by way of the great west doors,
+opened only this once in the round year. The setting sun,
+bringing out all the carven beauty of that dark gray façade,
+glittered on the golden balls and crosses that tip the noble
+towers, and on the golden staff of St. James and the golden
+quill of St. John, where the two sons of thunder stand colossal
+in their lofty niches. A baby, in yellow kerchief and cherry
+skirt, toddling alone across the centre of the square, pointed
+with adoring little hand at the mounted image of Santiago,
+which halted at the foot of the grand stairway, his lifted sword
+a line of golden light, while the deep-voiced choir chanted his
+old triumphal hymn. John Bull and the British Matron,
+stationing themselves on either side as a guard of honor, stared
+at him with insular contempt. As the chant ceased, St. James
+chivalrously made way for the <i>Virgen del Pilar</i>, a slender figure
+of pure gold poised on an azure tabernacle, to mount the steps
+before him. The bells pealed out to welcome her as she
+neared the portals, and an ear-splitting explosion of a monster
+rocket, with a tempest-rain of sparks, announced the instant
+of her entrance beneath the chiselled arch. Behind her went
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">438</a></span>
+the penitents, arduously climbing the long stone flights of that
+quadruple stairway upon their knees. These, too, were but
+shadows of those mediæval penitents who of old staggered
+after this procession, bowed under the weight of crosses, or
+scourging themselves until they fainted in their own trail of
+blood. Yet it is still strange and touching to see, long after
+the inner spaces of the cathedral are dim with evening, those
+kneeling figures making their painful progress about aisles and
+ambulatory, sobbing as they go, and falling forward on their
+faces to kiss the pavement that is bruising them.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_530" id="i_530"></a>
+<img src="images/i_530.jpg" width="420" height="531" alt="Santiago Cathedral" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Santiago Cathedral</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="b13 center p6">XXVII</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">439</a></span></p>
+<p class="center">VIGO AND AWAY</p>
+
+<p class="blockquot p2">Hasta la Vista!</p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">O</span>ur plan for the summer included a return trip
+across Spain, <i>via</i> Valladolid, Salamanca, and Saragossa
+to Barcelona and the Balearic Isles; but the
+bad food and worse lodging of Galicia, the blazing heat and
+the incessant, exhausting warfare against vermin, had begun to
+tell. That Spanish fever with which so many foreigners make
+too intimate acquaintance was at our doors, and we found ourselves
+forced at last to sacrifice enthusiasm to hygiene. The
+most eccentric train which it was ever my fortune to encounter
+shunted and switched us across country to Vigo in
+about the time it would have taken to make the journey donkeyback.
+Here we tarried for a week or so, gathering strength
+from the Atlantic breezes, and when, one sunny August day,
+a stately steamboat called for an hour at Vigo harbor on her
+way from Buenos Ayres to Southampton, we went up over the
+side. Our shock of astonishment at the cleanliness around us
+could not, however, divert our attention long from the receding
+shores of Spain, toward which one of us, at least, still felt a
+stubborn longing.</p>
+
+<p>They lay bright in the midday sunshine, those green uplands
+of Galicia, mysterious with that patient peasant life of
+which we had caught fleeting, baffling glimpses. Still we
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">440</a></span>
+seemed to see the brown-legged women washing in the brook
+and spreading their coarse-spun, gay-bordered garments on
+the heather; children, with the faces of little Pats and little
+Biddies, tugging a bleating sheep across the stepping-stones,
+or boosting an indignant goat over the wall; lean pigs
+poking their noses out of the low, stone doorways, where
+babies slept on wisps of hay; girls in cream-colored kerchiefs,
+starred with gold, bearing loads of fragrant brush or
+corded fagots on their heads. As the evening should come
+on, and the sea-breeze stir the tassels of the maize, we knew
+how the fields would be dotted with impromptu groups of
+dancers, leaping higher and higher and waving their arms in
+ever wilder merriment,&mdash;a scene pastoral down to the pigs,
+and poetic up to those gushes of song that delight the listener.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"I went to the meadow</p>
+<p class="i1">Day after day,</p>
+<p>To gather the blossoms</p>
+<p class="i1">Of April and May,</p>
+<p>And there was Mercedes,</p>
+<p class="i1">Always there,</p>
+<p>Sweetest white lily</p>
+<p class="i1">That breathes the air."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"North-wind, North-wind,</p>
+<p class="i1">Strong as wine!</p>
+<p>Blow thou, North-wind,</p>
+<p class="i1">Comrade mine!"</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The Virgin is spreading handkerchiefs</p>
+<p class="i1">On the rosemary to dry.</p>
+<p>The little birds are singing,</p>
+<p class="i1">And the brook is running by.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">441</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"The Virgin washes handkerchiefs,</p>
+<p class="i1">And spreads them in the sun,</p>
+<p>But St. Joseph, out of mischief,</p>
+<p class="i1">Has stolen every one."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was only now and then that we had realized a touch of
+genuine fellowship with these Galician peasants. I remember
+a little thirteenth-century church, gray crosses topping its low
+gray towers, one of which was broken off as if a giant hand
+had snapped it. In the porch a white-headed woman, in a
+gold-edged blue kerchief and poppy-red skirt, was holding a
+dame-school. It took her all the morning session, she told
+us, to get the fifty faces washed, but in the afternoon the
+children learned to read and knit and play the choral games.
+She had ten cents a month for every child, when the parents
+were able to pay. From a convenient hollow in a pillar of
+Arabic tradition she proudly drew her library,&mdash;a shabby
+primer and a few loose leaves of a book of devotion. As
+we talked, the midgets grew so restless and inquisitive that
+she shook her long rod at them with a mighty show of fierceness,
+and shooed them out of the porch like so many chickens.
+Then she went on eagerly with the story of her life, telling
+how she was married at fifteen, how her husband went "to
+serve the king" in the second Carlist war, and never came
+back, and how her only daughter had borne nine children, of
+whom eight died in babyhood, "<i>angelitos al cielo</i>," having
+known on earth "only the day and the night." The last
+and youngest had been very ill with the fever, and the afflicted
+grandmother had promised that noble Roman maiden, the
+martyr saint of the little gray church, to go around the edifice
+seven times upon her knees, if only the child might live. The
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">442</a></span>
+vow had been heard, as the presence of a thin-faced, wistful
+tot by the old woman's side attested, but so far only three of
+the seven circuits had been made. "It tires the knees much."
+But even with the words she knelt again, kissing the sacred
+threshold, and began the painful, heavy, shuffling journey
+around the church, while the baby, with wondering gray eyes,
+trotted beside her, clinging to the wrinkled hand. When at
+last, with puffs and groanings, the old dame had reached the
+carven doorway again, she rose wearily, rubbing her knees.</p>
+
+<p>"A sweet saint!" she said, "but <i>ay de mi!</i> such gravel!"</p>
+
+<p>We ought, of course, to have been impressed in Galicia
+with its debasing ignorance and superstition, and so, to a certain
+extent, we were. We went to see a <i>romeria</i>, a pilgrimage
+to a hilltop shrine, on one of our last afternoons in Vigo,
+and found a double line of dirty, impudent beggars, stripped
+half naked, and displaying every sort of hideous deformity,&mdash;a
+line that reached all the way from the carriage-road
+up the rugged ascent to the crest. We had to run the gantlet,
+and it was like traversing a demoniac sculpture-gallery
+made up of human mockeries. We had to push our way,
+moreover, through scene after scene of vulgar barter in things
+divine, and when at last the summit was achieved, the shrine
+of the Virgin seemed robbed of its glory by the ugliness,
+vice, and misery it overlooked. Spain is mediæval, and the
+modern age can teach her much. But with all her physical
+foulness and mental folly, there still dwells in her that mediæval
+grace for which happier countries may be searched in vain.</p>
+
+<p>Yet Spain is far from unhappy. It is beautiful to see out
+of what scant allowance of that which we call well-being, may
+be evolved wisdom and joy, poetry and religion. Wearied as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">443</a></span>
+we two bookish travellers were with lectures and libraries, we
+rejoiced in this wild Galician lore that lives on the lips of the
+people. The written Spanish literature, like other Spanish
+arts, is of the richest, nor are its laurels limited to the dates
+of Cervantes and Calderon. The modern Spanish novel, for
+instance, as Mr. Howells so generously insists, all but leads
+the line. But Spain herself is poetry. What does one want
+of books in presence of her storied, haunted vistas,&mdash;warrior-trod
+Asturian crags, opalescent reaches of Castilian plain,
+orange-scented gardens of Andalusia? A circle of cultivated
+Spaniards is one of the most charming groups on earth, but
+Spaniards altogether innocent of formal education may be
+walking anthologies of old ballads, spicy quatrains, riddles,
+proverbs, fables, epigrams. The peasant quotes "Don Quixote"
+without knowing it; the donkey-boy is as lyric as
+Romeo; the devout shepherd tells a legend of the Madonna
+that is half the dream of his own lonely days among the hills.
+Where Spanish life is most stripped of material prosperity, it
+seems most to abound in suggestions of romance. This despised
+Galicia, the province of simpletons, is literary in its
+own way. The hovel has no bookshelf, but the children's
+ears drink in the grandmother's croon:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"On a morning of St. John</p>
+<p class="i1">Fell a sailor into the sea.</p>
+<p>'What wilt thou give me, sailor, sailor,</p>
+<p class="i1">If I rescue thee?'</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'I will give thee all my ships,</p>
+<p class="i1">All my silver, every gem,</p>
+<p>All my gold,&mdash;yea, wife and daughters,</p>
+<p class="i1">I will give thee them.'
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">444</a></span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'What care I for masted ships,</p>
+<p class="i1">What care I for gold or gem?</p>
+<p>Keep thy wife and keep thy daughters,</p>
+<p class="i1">What care I for them?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'On the morning of St. John</p>
+<p class="i1">Thou art drowning in the sea.</p>
+<p>Promise me thy soul at dying,</p>
+<p class="i1">And I'll rescue thee.'</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"'I commend the sea to God,</p>
+<p class="i1">And my body to the sea,</p>
+<p>And my soul, Sweet Mother Mary,</p>
+<p class="i1">I commit to thee.'"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>And well it was for this bold mariner that he did not take
+up the Devil's offer, for everybody knows that those who have
+signed away their souls to the Devil turn black in the moment
+of dying, and are borne, black and horrible, to the sepulchre.</p>
+
+<p>In this northwestern corner of Spain are many mountain-songs
+as well as sea-songs. One of the sweetest tells how
+the blue-robed Virgin met a young shepherdess upon the hills
+and was so pleased with the maiden's courtesy that she straightway
+bore her thence to Paradise, not forgetting, this tender
+Mary of Bethlehem, to lead the flock safely back to the
+sheepfold. The love of the Galician peasantry for "Our
+Lady" blends childlike familiarity with impassioned devotion.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"As I was telling my beads,</p>
+<p class="i1">While the dawn was red,</p>
+<p>The Virgin came to greet me</p>
+<p class="i1">With her arms outspread."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Her rank in their affections is well suggested by another of
+the popular <i>coplas</i>.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">445</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"In the porch of Bethlehem,</p>
+<p class="i1">Sun, Moon, and Star,</p>
+<p>The Virgin, St. Joseph,</p>
+<p class="i1">And the Christ Child are."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>With their saints these Spanish peasants seem almost on a
+household footing, not afraid of a jest because so sure of the
+love that underlies it.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">
+"St. John and Mary Magdalen</p>
+<p class="i1">Played hide and seek, the pair,</p>
+<p>Till St. John threw a shoe at her,</p>
+<p class="i1">Because she didn't play fair."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Yet there is no lack of fear in this rustic religion. There
+is many a "shalt not" in the Galician decalogue. One must
+not try to count the stars, lest he come to have as many wrinkles
+as the number of stars he has counted. Never rock an
+empty cradle, for the next baby who sleeps in it will die. So
+often as you name the Devil in life, so often will he appear to
+you in the hour of death. If you hear another name him,
+call quickly, before the Devil has time to arrive, "Jesus is
+here." It is ill to dance alone, casting your shadow on the
+wall, because that is dancing with the Devil. But the Prince
+of Darkness is not the only supernatural being whom Galicians
+dread. There is a bleating demon who makes fun of
+them, cloudy giants who stir up thunderstorms, and are
+afraid only of St. Barbara, witches who cast the evil eye,
+but most of all the "souls in pain." For oftentimes the dead
+come back to earth for their purgatorial penance. You must
+never slam a door, nor close a window roughly, nor kick the
+smallest pebble from your path, because in door or stone or
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">446</a></span>
+window may be a suffering soul. To see one is to die within
+the year. If you would not be haunted by your dead, kiss the
+shoes which the body wears to the burial.</p>
+
+<p>It is well to go early to bed, for at midnight all manner
+of evil beings prowl up and down the streets. Who has
+not heard of that unlucky woman, who, after spinning
+late and long, stepped to the window for a breath of air
+exactly at twelve o'clock? Far off across the open country
+she saw a strange procession of shining candles drawing
+nearer and nearer, although there were no hands to hold
+them and no sound of holy song. Straight toward her house
+came those uncanny lights, moving silently through the
+meadow mists, and halted beneath her window. Then the
+foremost one of all begged her to take it in and keep it carefully
+until the midnight following. Scarcely knowing what
+she did, she closed her fingers on the cold wax and, blowing
+out the flame, laid away the taper in a trunk, but when, at
+daybreak, after a sleepless night, she raised the lid, before her
+lay a corpse. Aghast, she fled to the priest, who lent her all
+the relics of the sacristy; but their united power only just
+availed to save her from the fury of the spirits when they
+returned at midnight to claim the taper, expecting, moreover,
+to seize upon the woman and "turn her to fire and ashes."</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes a poor soul is permitted to condense the slow ages
+of Purgatory into one hour of uttermost torment. Galicians
+tell how a young priest brought his serving-maid to sorrow
+and how, to escape the latter burning, she shut herself, one
+day when the priest was engaged in the ceremonial of High
+Mass, into the red-hot oven. On his return, he called her
+name and sought her high and low, and when, at last, he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">447</a></span>
+opened the oven door, out flew a white dove that soared, a
+purified and pardoned soul, into the blue of heaven. The
+science of this simple folk is not divorced from poetry and
+religion. The rainbow drinks, they say, in the sea and in the
+rivers. The Milky Way, the Road to Santiago, is trodden
+every night by pale, dim multitudes who failed to make that
+blessed pilgrimage, from which no one of us will be excused,
+in time of life. When the dust stirs in an empty house, good
+St. Ana is sweeping there. When babies look upward and
+laugh, they see the cherubs at play. Tuesday is the unlucky
+day in Spain, whereas children born on Friday receive the gift
+of second-sight, and those who enter the world on Good
+Friday are marked by a cross in the roof of the mouth and
+have the holy touch that cures diseases. It is a fortunate
+house beneath whose eaves the swallow builds,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"For swallows on Mount Calvary</p>
+<p class="i1">Plucked tenderly away</p>
+<p>From the brows of Christ two thousand thorns,</p>
+<p class="i1">Such gracious birds are they."</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_539" id="i_539"></a>
+<img src="images/i_539.jpg" width="420" height="550" alt="St. James" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">St. James</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Galicians, butt of all Spain for their dulness, are shrewd
+enough in fact. It is said that those arrant knaves, the gypsies,
+dare not pass through Galicia for fear of being cheated.
+Like other unlettered peasants, Gallegos whet their wits on
+rhyming riddles.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2-6">"Who is the little pigeon,</p>
+<p class="i4">Black and white together,</p>
+<p class="i3">That speaks so well without a tongue</p>
+<p class="i4">And flies without a feather?"</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="o1">"A tree with twelve boughs and four nests on a bough,</p>
+<p>In each nest seven birdlings,&mdash;unriddle me now."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">448</a></span>In many of their proverbial sayings one gets the Spanish
+tang at its best. "A well-filled stomach praises God."</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="o1">"Why to Castile</p>
+<p class="i1">For your fortune go?</p>
+<p>A man's Castile</p>
+<p class="i1">Is under his hoe."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And I fear if my comrade were to speak, in Spanish phrase,
+of our return to Galicia, she would bid St. James expect us
+"on Judgment Day in the afternoon."
+</p>
+
+<p class="center p6 b13"><b>Works by Alice Morse Earle</b></p>
+<hr class="l15" />
+<p class="center p2 b15"><b>CHILD LIFE IN COLONIAL DAYS</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Profusely Illustrated</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">Crown 8vo. Cloth. Gilt top. $2.50</p>
+
+<p><b>Commercial Advertiser:</b></p>
+
+<p>"Once more Mrs. Earle has drawn on her apparently inexhaustible store
+of colonial lore, and has produced another interesting book of the olden
+days.... Mrs. Earle's interesting style, the accuracy of her statements,
+and the attractive illustrations she always supplies for her books make the
+volume one to be highly prized."</p>
+
+<p><b>Buffalo Express:</b></p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Alice Morse Earle performs a real historical service, and writes an
+interesting book. It is not a compilation from, or condensation of, previous
+books, but the fruit of personal and original investigation into the
+conditions of life in the American colonies."</p>
+
+<hr class="l15" />
+<p class="center b15"><b>HOME LIFE IN COLONIAL DAYS</b></p>
+
+<p><b>Education:</b></p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Earle has made a very careful study of the details of domestic life
+from the earliest days of the settlement of the country. The book is
+sumptuously illustrated, and every famed article, such as the spinning-wheel,
+the foot-stone, the brass knocker on the door, and the old-time
+cider mill, is here presented to the eye, and faithfully pictured in words.
+The volume is a fascinating one, and the vast army of admirers and students
+of the olden days will be grateful to the author for gathering together
+and putting into permanent form so much accurate information concerning
+the homes of our ancestors."</p>
+
+<p><b>Literature:</b></p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Earle's fidelity in study and her patient research are evident on
+every page of this charming book, and her pleasantly colloquial style is
+frequently assisted by very beautiful illustrations, both of the houses of the
+colonists, from the primitive cave dug out of the hillside and made to
+answer for warmth and shelter, to the more comfortable log cabin, the
+farmstead with its adjacent buildings, and the stately mansion abiding to
+our own day."</p>
+
+<hr class="l15" />
+
+<p class="center b15">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</p>
+
+<p class="center">66 FIFTH AVENUE NEW YORK</p>
+
+<p class="center b15 p6"><b>AMONG ENGLISH HEDGEROWS</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b>By CLIFTON JOHNSON</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>With an Introduction by HAMILTON W. MABIE</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b>Illustrated. Cr. 8vo. Cloth extra. Gilt top. $2.25</b></p>
+
+<p>"'Among English Hedgerows' is one of the most beautiful of illustrated
+books, containing, as it does, a great number of half-tone reproductions
+of Mr. Johnson's admirable photographs.</p>
+
+<p>"The author, as far as possible, lived the life of the people who figure in
+these pages, and we have delightful accounts of village characters, and
+glimpses of quaint old English homes.</p>
+
+<p>"Hamilton W. Mabie, who furnishes the introduction, well summarizes
+Mr. Johnson's merits as 'a friendly eye, a hearty sympathy, and a very
+intelligent camera, and that love of his field and of his subject which is
+the prime characteristic of the successful painter of rural life and country
+folk.'"&mdash;<i>Illustrated Buffalo Express.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="l15" />
+
+<p class="center b15"><b>ALONG FRENCH BYWAYS</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b>By CLIFTON JOHNSON</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b>Illustrated. Cr. 8vo. Cloth extra. Gilt top. $2.25</b></p>
+
+<p>"A book of leisurely strolling through one of the most picturesque
+countries of Europe, enlivened with description and anecdote, and profusely
+illustrated.... Mr. Johnson is not only a delightful writer, but is
+one of the best landscape photographers of whom we have knowledge."&mdash;<i>Boston
+Transcript.</i></p>
+
+<p>"This book shares the merits of Mr. Johnson's 'Among English Hedgerows':
+simplicity of theme and treatment, sympathy and love of nature."&mdash;<i>The
+Mail and Express.</i></p>
+
+<p>"A book of strolling, a book of nature, a book of humble peasant life
+intermingled with the chance experiences of the narrator."&mdash;<i>The Worcester
+Spy.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="l15" />
+<p class="center b15">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</p>
+
+<p class="center">66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Spanish Highways and Byways, by Katharine Lee Bates
+
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+Project Gutenberg's Spanish Highways and Byways, by Katharine Lee Bates
+
+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: Spanish Highways and Byways
+
+Author: Katharine Lee Bates
+
+Release Date: February 4, 2012 [EBook #38767]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPANISH HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+  Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
+  been preserved.  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
+
+  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+
+
+
+
+SPANISH HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS
+
+  [Illustration: SAN SEBASTIAN]
+
+
+
+
+     SPANISH HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS
+
+     BY
+     KATHARINE LEE BATES
+
+     _Author of "American Literature" "The English Religious Drama," etc._
+
+     ILLUSTRATED WITH MANY ENGRAVINGS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
+
+     _Published by_ THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+     _New York MCM_
+
+     LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
+
+
+
+
+     COPYRIGHT, 1900,
+     BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+
+     _Norwood Press_
+     _J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith_
+     _Norwood, Mass., U.S.A._
+
+
+
+
+     Madre Mia
+
+     AQUI TIENES TU LIBRO
+
+
+
+
+Preface
+
+
+A tourist in Spain can hope to understand but little of that strange,
+deep-rooted, and complex life shut away beyond the Pyrenees. This book
+claims to be nothing more than a record of impressions. As such,
+whatever may be its errors, it should at least bear witness to the
+picturesque, poetic charm of the Peninsula and to the graciousness of
+Spanish manners.
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+  Chapter                                                   Page
+
+       I. "The Lazy Spaniard"                                  1
+      II. A Continuous Carnival                               11
+     III. Within the Alhambra                                 27
+      IV. A Function in Granada                               39
+       V. In Sight of the Giralda                             48
+      VI. Passion Week in Seville                             58
+     VII. Traces of the Inquisition                           82
+    VIII. An Andalusian Type                                 102
+      IX. A Bull-fight                                       113
+       X. Gypsies                                            132
+      XI. The Route of the Silver Fleets                     147
+     XII. Murillo's Cherubs                                  162
+    XIII. The Yolk of the Spanish Egg                        183
+     XIV. A Study in Contrasts                               203
+      XV. The Patron Saint of Madrid                         214
+     XVI. The Funeral of Castelar                            233
+    XVII. The Immemorial Fashion                             246
+   XVIII. Corpus Christi in Toledo                           263
+     XIX. The Tercentenary of Velazquez                      283
+      XX. Choral Games of Spanish Children                   297
+     XXI. "O la Senorita!"                                   338
+    XXII. Across the Basque Provinces                        362
+   XXIII. In Old Castile                                     376
+    XXIV. Pilgrims of Saint James                            394
+     XXV. The Building of a Shrine                           409
+    XXVI. The Son of Thunder                                 423
+   XXVII. Vigo and Away                                      439
+
+
+
+
+List of Illustrations
+
+
+     San Sebastian                                _Frontispiece_
+                                                     Facing Page
+     Pasajes                                                   8
+     An Arab Gateway in Burgos                                23
+     Playing at Bull-fight. From painting by Bayeu            30
+     The Mosque of Cordova                                    39
+     The Columbus Monument in Granada                         46
+     The Alhambra. Hall of Justice                            55
+     Filling the Water-jars                                   62
+     Off for the War. From painting by Rubio                  71
+     Looking toward the Darro                                 78
+     A Milkman of Granada                                    101
+     A Roman Well in Ronda                                   112
+     The Giralda                                             131
+     The Passing of the Pageants                             146
+     The Pageant of Gethsemane                               167
+     "Jesus of the Passion"                                  174
+     "Christ of the Seven Words"                             195
+     Maria Santisima                                         210
+     A Spanish Monk. From painting by Zurbaran               215
+     A Seville Street                                        222
+     An Old-fashioned Bull-fight. From painting by Goya      243
+     The Bull-fight of To-day                                258
+     The King of the Gypsies                                 275
+     Gypsy Tenants of an Arab Palace                         290
+     From the Golden Tower down the Guadalquivir             311
+     Cadiz, from the Sea                                     318
+     The Divine Shepherd. From painting by Murillo           339
+     The Royal Palace in Madrid                              354
+     The Royal Family                                        359
+     The Manzanares                                          366
+     A Spanish Cemetery                                      375
+     Toledo                                                  382
+     Toledo Cathedral. Puerta de los Leones                  391
+     St. Paul, the first Hermit. From painting by Ribera     398
+     The Maids of Honor. From painting by Velazquez          407
+     Dancing the Sevillana                                   414
+     Within the Cloister                                     423
+     The Trampler of the Moors                               430
+     Santiago Cathedral. Puerta de la Gloria                 439
+     St. James. From painting by Murillo                     446
+
+
+
+
+SPANISH HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS
+
+
+
+
+Spanish Highways and Byways
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+"THE LAZY SPANIARD"
+
+     "There is a difference between Peter and Peter."--CERVANTES:
+     _Don Quixote_.
+
+
+"Spain is a contradiction," was the parting word of the Rev. William
+H. Gulick, the honored American missionary whose unwearied kindness
+looked after us, during the break in official representation, more
+effectively than a whole diplomatic corps. "Spanish blood is a strange
+_mezcla_, whose elements, Gothic, African, Oriental, are at war among
+themselves. You will find Spaniards tender and cruel, boastful and
+humble, frank and secretive, and all at once. It will be a journey of
+surprises."
+
+We were saying good-by, on February 4, 1899, to sunshiny Biarritz,
+whither Mrs. Gulick's school for Spanish girls had been spirited over
+the border at the outbreak of the war. Here we had found Spanish and
+American flags draped together, Spanish and American friendships
+holding fast, and a gallant little band of American teachers spending
+youth and strength in their patient campaign for conquering the
+Peninsula by a purer idea of truth. Rough Riders may be more
+pictorial, but hardly more heroic.
+
+We were barely through the custom house, in itself the simplest and
+swiftest of operations, before the prophesied train of surprises
+began. One of our preconceived ideas went to wreck at the very outset
+on the industry of the Basque provinces. "The lazy Spaniard" has
+passed into a proverb. The round world knows his portrait--that broad
+_sombrero_, romantic cloak, and tilted cigarette. But the laborious
+Spaniard can no longer be ignored. Even at Biarritz we had to reckon
+with him, for the working population there is scarcely less Spanish
+than French. Everybody understands both languages as spoken, and it is
+a common thing to overhear animated dialogue where the talk is all
+Spanish on the one side and all French on the other. The war set
+streams of Spanish laborers flowing over the mountain bar into French
+territory. Young men fled from conscription, and fathers of families
+came under pressure of hard times. Skilled artisans, as masons and
+carpenters, could make in Biarritz a daily wage of five francs, the
+normal equivalent of five _pesetas_, or a dollar, while only the half
+of this was to be earned on their native side of the Pyrenees. Such,
+too, was the magic of exchange that these five francs, sent home,
+might transform themselves into ten, eight, or seven and a half
+_pesetas_. Even when we entered Spain, after the Paris Commission had
+risen, the rate of exchange was anything but stable, varying not
+merely from day to day, but from hour to hour, a difference of two or
+three per cent often occurring between morning and evening. The
+conditions that bore so heavily on the crafts were crushing the field
+laborers almost to starvation. In point of excessive toil, those
+peasants of northern Spain seemed to us worse off than Mr. Markham's
+"Man with the Hoe," for the rude mattock, centuries out of date, with
+which they break up the ground, involves the utmost bodily exertion.
+And by all that sweat of the brow, they were gaining, on an average,
+ten or twelve cents a day.
+
+No wonder that discontent clouded the land. We met this first at
+Pasajes, on one of the excursions arranged for our pleasure by the
+overflow goodness of that missionary garrison. The busiest of teachers
+had brought us--a young compatriot from a Paris studio and myself--so
+far as San Sebastian, where she lingered long enough to make us
+acquainted with a circle of friends, and, incidentally, with Pasajes.
+This Basque fishing hamlet is perched between hill and sea, with a
+single rough-paved street running the length of the village from the
+Church of St. Peter to the Church of St. John. Nature has not been
+chary of beauty here. The mountain-folded Bay of Pasajes appears at
+first view like an Alpine lake, but the presence of stately Dutch and
+Spanish merchantmen in these sapphire waters makes it evident that
+there must be an outlet to the ocean. Such a rift, in fact, was
+disclosed as the strong-armed old ferry woman rowed us across, a deep
+but narrow passage (hence the name) between sheer walls of rock, whose
+clefts and crannies thrill the most respectable tourist with longings
+to turn smuggler. The village clings with difficulty to its stony
+strip between steep and wave. On one side of that single street, the
+peering stone houses, some still showing faded coats of arms, are half
+embedded in the mountain, and on the other the tide beats perilously
+against the old foundation piles.
+
+Above the uneven roofs, on the precipitous hillside, sleep the dead,
+watched over by Santa Ana from her neglected hermitage. Only once a
+year, on her own feast day, is her gorgeous altar cloth brought forth
+and her tall candles lighted, while the rats, who have been nibbling
+her gilded shoes and comparing the taste of the blues and crimsons in
+her painted robes, skurry into their holes at the unaccustomed sound
+of crowding feet. Pasajes boasts, too, a touch of historical dignity.
+From here Lafayette, gallant young Frenchman that he was, sailed for
+America, and probably then, as now, little Basque girls ran at the
+stranger's side with small hands full of wild flowers, and roguish
+Basque boys hid behind boulders and tried to frighten him by playing
+brigand, with a prodigious waving of thorn-branch guns and booming of
+vocal artillery.
+
+But not the joy of beauty nor the pride of ancient memory takes the
+place of bread. We approached a factory and asked of the workman at
+the entrance, "What do you manufacture here?" "What they manufacture
+in all Spain, nowadays," he answered, "misery." This particular
+misery, however, had the form of tableware, the long rows of simple
+cups and plates and pitchers, in various stages of completion, being
+diversified by jaunty little images of the Basque ball players, whose
+game is famous throughout the Peninsula. We finally succeeded in
+purchasing one of these for fifteen cents, although the village was
+hard put to it to make change for a dollar, and was obliged, with
+grave apologies, to load us down with forty or so big Spanish coppers.
+
+"The lazy Spaniard!" Look at the very children as they romp about San
+Sebastian. This is the most aristocratic summer resort in Spain, the
+Queen Regent having a chalet on that artistic bay called the _Concha_
+or Shell. It is a crescent of shimmering color, so dainty and so
+perfect, with guardian mountains of jasper and a fringe of diamond
+surf, that it is hard to believe it anything but a bit of magical
+jewel-work. It might be a city of fairyland, did not the clamor of
+childish voices continually break all dreamy spells. What energy and
+tireless activity! Up and down the streets, the cleanest streets in
+Spain, twinkle hundreds of little _alpargatas_, brightly embroidered
+canvas shoes with soles of plaited hemp. Spanish families are large,
+although from the ignorance of the mothers and the unsanitary
+condition of the homes, the mortality among the children is extreme.
+Here is a household, for example, where out of seventeen black-eyed
+babies but three have fought their way to maturity. Spanish parents
+are notably affectionate, but, in the poorer classes, at least,
+impatient in their discipline. It is the morning impulse of the busy
+mother, working at disadvantage in her small and crowded rooms, to
+clear them of the juvenile uproar by turning her noisy brood out of
+doors for the day. Surprisingly neat in their dress but often with
+nothing save cabbage in their young stomachs, forth they storm into
+the streets. Here the stranger may stand and watch them by the hour as
+they bow and circle, toss and tumble, dance and race through an
+enchanting variety of games. The most violent seem to please them
+best. Now and then a laughing girl stoops to whisk away the beads of
+perspiration from a little brother's shining face, but in general they
+are too rapt with the excitement of their sports to be aware of
+weariness. Such flashing of eyes and streaming of hair and jubilee of
+songs!
+
+One of their favorite games, for instance, is this: An especially
+active child, by preference a boy, takes the name of _milano_, or
+kite, and throws himself down in some convenient doorway, as if
+asleep. The others form in Indian file, the _madre_, or mother, at the
+head, and the smallest girl, Mariquilla, last in line. The file
+proceeds to sing:--
+
+     "We are going to the garden,
+      Although its wicked warden,
+      Hungry early and late,
+      Is crouching before the gate."
+
+Then ensues a musical dialogue between the mother and Mariquilla:--
+
+     _Mother._       Little Mary in the rear!
+
+     _Little Mary._  What's your bidding, mother dear?
+
+     _Mother._       Tell me how the kite may thrive.
+
+     _Little Mary [after cautiously sidling up to the doorway and
+     inspecting the prone figure there]._
+
+                     He's half dead and half alive.
+
+Then the file chants again:--
+
+                     "We are going to the garden,
+                     Although its wicked warden,
+                     Hungry early and late,
+                     Is crouching before the gate."
+
+     _Mother._       Little Mary in the rear!
+
+     _Little Mary._  What's your bidding, mother dear?
+
+     _Mother._       Of the kite I bid you speak.
+
+     _Little Mary [after a second reconnoissance, which sends her
+     scampering back to her own place]._
+
+                     He whets his claws and whets his beak.
+
+Here the enemy advances, beating a most appalling tattoo:--
+
+     _Kite._         Pum, pum! Tat, tat!
+
+     _Mother._       Who is here and what is that?
+
+     _Kite._         'Tis the kite.
+
+     _Mother._                 What seeks the kite?
+
+     _Kite._         Human flesh! A bite, a bite!
+
+     _Mother._       You must catch before you dine.
+                     Children, children, keep the line!
+
+And with this the dauntless parent, abandoning song for action, darts
+with outspread arms in front of the robber, who bends all his energies
+to reaching and snatching away Little Mary. The entire line, keeping
+rank, curves and twists behind the leader, all intent on protecting
+that poor midget at the end. And when the wild frolic has resulted in
+her capture, and every child is panting with fatigue, they straightway
+resume their original positions and play it all over again. In Seville
+this game takes on a religious variation, the kite becoming the Devil,
+and the _madre_ the angel Michael defending a troop of souls. In Cuba
+we have a hawk pitted against a hen with her brood of chickens.
+
+We stepped into a Protestant Kindergarten one day to see how such
+stirring atoms of humanity might demean themselves in school. Talk of
+little pitchers! Here were some twoscore tiny jugs, bubbling full of
+mischief, with one bright, sympathetic girl of twenty-two keeping a
+finger on every dancing lid. Impossible, of course! But all her week's
+work looked to us impossible. We had known diligent teachers in the
+United States; this "lazy Spaniard," however, not only keeps her
+Kindergarten well in hand from nine to twelve, but instructs the same
+restless mites--so many of them as do not fall into a baby-sleep over
+their desks--in reading and counting from two to four, gives a Spanish
+lesson from six to seven, and struggles with the pathetic ignorance of
+grown men and women in the night school from eight to half-past nine
+or ten.
+
+The Spanish pastor and his wife, also teachers in day school, night
+school, Sunday school, are no less marvels of industry. The
+multiplication table, lustily intoned to the tramp of marching feet,
+called us into a class-room where the older girls were gathered for
+lessons in reading and writing, arithmetic and geography, sewing and
+embroidery. The delicate little lady who presides over this lively
+kingdom may be seen on Sunday, seated at the melodeon, leading the
+chapel music--an exquisite picture of a Spanish senora, with the lace
+mantilla crowning the black hair and gracefully falling to the slender
+shoulders. We had heard her give an address on foreign soil, before an
+audience of a hundred strangers, speaking with an irresistible fervor
+of appeal, and no less charming was she at the head of her own table,
+the soul of vivacious and winsome hospitality.
+
+As for the pastor himself, he carries the administrative burdens of
+church and school, teaches the larger boys morning and afternoon, and
+the men in the evening, preaches once on Thursday and twice on Sunday,
+and slips in between these stated tasks all the innumerable incidental
+duties of a missionary pastorate. And yet this man of many labors is
+not only Spanish, but Philippine. His childhood was passed at Cavite,
+the home of his father, a Spanish officer, who had chosen his bride
+from a native family. The boy was put to school with the friars at
+Manila, where, rather to the disgust of the soldier-father, he formed
+the desire to enter the brotherhood. He was not blind--what students
+are?--to the blemishes of his teachers. He had often stood by with the
+other lads and shouted with laughter to see a group of friars, their
+cassocks well girded up, drive a pig into their shallow pond and stab
+the plunging creature there, that it might be counted "fish" and serve
+them for dinner on Friday. But his faith in the order held firm, and,
+when his novitiate was well advanced, he was sent to Madrid for the
+final ceremonies. Here, by chance, he dropped into a Protestant
+service, and after several years of examination and indecision, chose
+the thorny road.
+
+  [Illustration: PASAJES]
+
+All his wearing occupations do not dull that fine sense of courtesy
+inherent in a Spanish gentleman. The sun itself had hardly risen when
+we departed from San Sebastian, yet we found Don Angel at the station,
+muffled in the inevitable Spanish _capa_, to say good-by once more and
+assure us that, come what might, we had always "a house and a friend
+in Spain." We laid down the local journal, hard reading that it was
+with its denunciations of "the inhuman barbarities of the North
+Americans toward the Filipinos," and ventured to ask for his own view
+of the matter.
+
+"The United States," he answered, speaking modestly and very gently,
+"means well and has, in the main, done well. When I say this in the
+Casino, men get angry and call me a Yankee filibuster. But in truth
+the Philippines are very dear to me and I carry a sad heart. It was
+the protocol that did the mischief. It is not easy for simple
+islanders to understand that words may say one thing and mean another.
+Philippine faith in American promises is broken. And red is a hard
+color to wash out. Yet I still hope that, when the days of slaughter
+are over, peace and life may finally come to my unhappy birthplace
+from your great nation. The Tagalos are not so worthless as Americans
+seem to think, though the climate of the Philippines, like that of
+Andalusia, tempts to indolence. But strong motives make good workers
+everywhere."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+A CONTINUOUS CARNIVAL
+
+     "This periodical explosion of freedom and folly."--BECQUER: _El
+     Carnaval_.
+
+
+Having re-formed our concept of a Spaniard to admit the elements of
+natural vigor and determined diligence, we were surprised again to
+find this tragic nation, whose fresh grief and shame had almost
+deterred us from the indelicacy of intrusion, entering with eager zest
+into the wild fun of Carnival. Sorrow was still fresh for the eighty
+thousand dead in Cuba, the hapless prisoners in the Philippines, the
+wretched _repatriados_ landed, cargo after cargo, at ports where some
+were suffered to perish in the streets. Every household had its tale
+of loss; yet, notwithstanding all the troubles of the time, Spain must
+keep her Carnival. "It is one of the saddest and most disheartening
+features of the situation," said a Spaniard to us. "There is no
+earnestness here, no realization of the national crisis. The
+politicians care for nothing but to enrich themselves, and the people,
+as you see, care for nothing but to divert themselves."
+
+Yet we looked from the madcap crowd to the closed shutters, keeping
+their secrets of heartbreak, and remembered the words of Zorrilla,
+"Where there is one who laughs, there is ever another who weeps in the
+great Carnival of our life."
+
+The parks of San Sebastian were gay with maskers and music, tickling
+brushes and showers of _confetti_, on our last day there, but the
+peculiar feature of the festivity in this Basque city is "the baiting
+of the ox." On that Carnival-Sunday afternoon we found ourselves
+looking down, from a safe balcony, upon the old _Plaza de la
+Constitucion_, with its arcaded sides. The genuine bull-fights, which
+used to take place here, have now a handsome amphitheatre of their
+own, where, when the summer has brought the court to San Sebastian,
+the choicest Andalusian bulls crimson the sand of the arena. But the
+_Plaza de la Constitucion_, mindful of its pristine glory, still
+furnishes what cheap suggestions it can of the terrible play. The
+square below was crowded with men and boys, and even some hoydenish
+girls, many in fantastic masks and gaudy dominos, while the tiers of
+balconies were thronged with eager spectators. A strange and savage
+peal of music announced that "the bull" was coming. That music was
+enough to make the hereditary barbarian beat in any heart, but "the
+bull"! At the further corner of the _plaza_, pulled by a long rope and
+driven by a yelling rabble, came in, at a clumsy gallop, an astonished
+and scandalized old ox. Never did living creature bear a meeker and
+less resentful temper.
+
+At first, beaten and pricked by his tormentors, he tore blindly round
+and round the _plaza_, the long rope by which he was held dragging
+behind him, and sometimes, as he wheeled about, tripping up and
+overturning a bunch of the merrymakers. This was a joy to the
+balconies, but did not often happen, as the people below showed a
+marvellous dexterity in skipping over the rope just in time to escape
+its swinging blow. Sometimes the poor, stupid beast entangled his own
+legs, and that, too, was a source of noisy glee. But, on the whole,
+he was a disappointing and inglorious ox. He caused no serious
+accident. Nothing could ruffle his disposition. The scarlet cloaks
+waved in his eyes he regarded with courteous interest; he wore only a
+look of grieved surprise when he was slapped across the face with red
+and yellow banners; tweaks of the tail he endured like a Socrates, but
+now and then a cruel prod from a sharp stick would make him lower his
+horns and rush, for an instant, upon the nearest offender. The
+balconies would shout with the hope of something vicious and violent
+at last, but the mobile crowd beneath would close in between the ox
+and his assailant, a hundred fresh insults would divert his attention,
+and indeed, his own impulses of wrath were of the shortest. To the end
+he was hardly an angry ox--only a puzzled, baffled, weary old creature
+who could not make out, for the life of him, into what sort of red and
+yellow pasture and among what kind of buzzing hornets his unlucky
+hoofs had strayed.
+
+Finally he gave the enigma up and stood wrapped in a brown study among
+his emboldened enemies, who clung to his horns and tail, tossed
+children upon his back, tickled his nostrils with their hat brims, and
+showered him with indignities. The balconies joined in hooting him out
+of the _plaza_, but he was so pleased to go that I doubt if human
+scorn of his beastly gentleness really interfered with his appetite
+for supper. He trotted away to that rude clang of music, the babies
+who were dancing to it on their nurses' arms not more harmless than
+he. And although that worrying half hour may have told upon his
+nerves, and his legs may have ached for the unaccustomed exercise, no
+blood was to be seen upon him. It was all a rough-and-tumble romp,
+nothing worse, but the balconies would have liked it better had it
+been flavored with a broken leg or two. A few sprawlings over the rope
+really amounted to so little. But the _toro de fuego_ was to come
+there Tuesday evening, and when this blazing pasteboard bull, with
+fireworks spluttering all over him from horns to tail, is dragged
+about among the throng, there is always a fine chance of explosions,
+burnings, and even of blindings for life.
+
+But Carnival Tuesday found us no longer in sunny San Sebastian. We
+were shivering over a _brasero_ in storied Burgos, a city chill as if
+with the very breath of the past. And the Spanish _brasero_, a great
+brass pan holding a pudding of ashes, plummed with sparks, under a
+wire screen, is the coldest comfort, the most hypocritical heater,
+that has yet come my way.
+
+Our Monday had been spent in a marvellous journey through the
+Pyrenees, whose rugged sublimities were bathed in the very blue of
+Velazquez, a cold, clear, glorious blue expanding all the soul. These
+are haunted mountains, with wild legends of lonely castles, where
+fierce old chieftains, beaten back by the Franks, shut themselves in
+with their treasure and died like wounded lions in their lairs. We
+passed fallen towers from whose summits mediaeval heralds had trumpeted
+the signal for war, ruined convents whence the sound of woman's
+chanting was wont to startle the wolves of the forest, mysterious
+lakes deep in whose waters are said to shine golden crowns set with
+nine precious pearls--those ducal coronets that Rome bestowed upon her
+vassals--craggy paths once trod by pilgrims, hermits, jugglers,
+minstrels, and knights-errant, and shadowy pine groves where, when
+the wind is high, the shepherds still hear the weeping ghost of the
+cruel princess, whose beauty and disdain slew dozens of men a day
+until her love was won and scorned, so that she died of longing.
+
+We had reached Burgos at dusk and, without pausing for rest or food,
+had sallied out for our first awe-stricken gaze up at the far-famed
+cathedral towers, then had ignominiously lost our way over and over in
+the narrow, crooked streets and been finally marched back to our hotel
+by a compassionate, though contemptuous, policeman. My artist comrade
+was fairly ill by morning with a heavy cold, but she would not hear of
+missing the cathedral and sneezed three or four enraptured hours away
+in its chill magnificence. As we came to know Spanish and Spaniards
+better, they would exclaim "_Jesus, Maria y Jose!_" when we sneezed,
+that the evil spirit given to tickling noses might take flight; but
+the Burgos sacristan was too keen to waste these amenities on
+stammering heretics. What we thought of the cathedral is little to the
+purpose of this chapter. In a word, however, we thought nothing at
+all; we only felt. It was our first introduction to one of the monster
+churches of Spain, and its very greatness, the terrible weight of all
+that antiquity, sanctity, and beauty, crushed our understanding. Like
+sleepwalkers we followed our guide down the frozen length of nave and
+aisles and cloisters; we went the round of the fifteen chapels,
+splendid presence-chambers where the dead keep sculptured state; we
+looked, as we were bidden, on the worm-eaten treasure-chest of the
+Cid, on the clock whose life-sized tenant, Papa-Moscas, used to scream
+the hours to the embarrassment of long-winded pulpiteers, on the
+cathedral's crown of fretted spires whose marvellous tracery was
+chiselled by the angels, and on the "Most Holy Christ of Burgos," the
+crucified image that bleeds every Friday.
+
+Fulfilled with amazement, we searched our way back to the hotel
+through the sleety rain, ate a shivering luncheon at the "_mesa
+redonda_," that "round table" which is never round, and agreed to
+postpone our anticipated visits to the haunts of the Cid until a less
+inclement season. For of course we should come back to Burgos. The
+proud old city seemed to fill all the horizon of thought. How had we
+lived so long without it? That the stormy afternoon was not favorable
+to exploration mattered little. We peeped down from our balconies into
+the ancient streets, half expecting the exiled Cid to come spurring
+up, seeking the welcome which we, like all the craven folk of Burgos,
+must refuse him.
+
+     "With sixty lances in his train my Cid rode up the town,
+     The burghers and their dames from all the windows looking down;
+     And there were tears in every eye, and on each lip one word:
+     'A worthy vassal--would to God he served a worthy lord!'
+     Fain would they shelter him, but none durst yield to his desire.
+     Great was the fear through Burgos town of King Alphonso's ire.
+     Sealed with his royal seal hath come his letter to forbid
+     All men to offer harborage or succor to my Cid.
+     And he that dared to disobey, well did he know the cost--
+     His goods, his eyes, stood forfeited, his soul and body lost.
+     A hard and grievous word was that to men of Christian race;
+     And since they might not greet my Cid, they hid them from his
+         face."
+
+Meanwhile the streets were a living picture-book. Muffled cavaliers,
+with cloaks drawn up and hats drawn down till only the dance of
+coal-black eyes, full of fire and fun, was visible between, saluted
+our balcony with Carnival impertinence. Beggars of both sexes, equally
+wound about with tattered shawls, reached up expectant hands as if we
+were made of Spanish pennies. A funeral procession passed, with the
+pale light of tapers, the chanting of priests, with purple-draped
+coffin, and mourners trooping on foot--men only, for in Spain women
+never accompany their dead either to church or grave. A troop of
+infantry, whose dapper costume outwent itself in the last touch of
+bright green gloves, dazzled by, and then came a miscellany of
+maskers. It was rather a rag-tag show, take it all in all--red devils
+with horns, friars extremely fat, caricatures of English tourists with
+tall hats and perky blue eye-glasses, giants, dwarfs, tumblers, and
+even a sorry Cid mounted on a sorrier Bavieca. But the climax of
+excitement was reached when a novel bull-fight wheeled into view. It
+was a stuffed calf this time, set on wheels and propelled by a merry
+fellow of the tribe of Joseph, if one might judge by his multi-colored
+attire. With white hood, black mask, blue domino, garnet arms, and
+yellow legs, he was as cheery as a bit of rainbow out of that sombre
+sky. All the people in sight hastened to flock about him, policemen
+left their beats, and servant maids their doorways, an itinerant band
+of gypsy girls ceased clashing their tambourines, the blind beggar
+opened his eyes, and the small boys were in ecstasies. For over an
+hour the populace played with that mimic bull in this one spot under
+our windows, good-humored _caballeros_ lending their scarfs and cloaks
+to delighted urchins, who would thrust these stimulating objects into
+the calf's bland face and then run for their lives, while the motley
+Mask trundled his precious image in hot pursuit behind them. We were
+reminded of the scene months after by an old painting in the Escorial,
+depicting an almost identical performance. Spain is not a land of
+change.
+
+But that teeth-chattering cold, "_un frio de todos los demonios_,"
+eased our farewells to Burgos, and night found us dividing the
+privileges of a second-class carriage with two black-bearded
+Castilians, who slept foot to foot along the leather-cushioned seat on
+the one side, while we copied their example on the other. I started
+from my first doze at some hubbub of arrival to ask drowsily, "Is this
+Madrid?" "Be at peace, senora!" cooed one of these sable-headed
+neighbors, in that tone of humorous indulgence characteristic of the
+dons when addressing women and children. "It is twelve hours yet to
+Madrid. Slumber on with tranquil heart." So we lay like warriors
+taking our rest, with our travelling rugs, in lieu of martial cloaks,
+about us, until the east began to glow with rose and fire, revealing a
+bleak extent of treeless, tawny steppe.
+
+We had only a few days to give to "the crowned city" then, but those
+sufficed for business, for a first acquaintance with the _Puerta del
+Sol_ and its radiating avenues, a first joy in the peerless _Museo del
+Prado_, and a brilliant glimpse of Carnival. We found the great drive
+of the _Prado_, on Ash Wednesday afternoon, reserved for carriages and
+maskers. Stages were erected along one side of the way, and on the
+other the park was closely set with chairs. Stages and chairs were
+filled with a well-clad, joyous multitude, diverted awhile from their
+pretty labors of shooting roses and showering _confetti_ by the
+fascinating panorama before their eyes. The privileged landaus that
+held the middle of the road were laden with the loveliest women of
+Castile. Carriages, horses, and coachmen were all adorned, but these
+showy equipages only served as setting to the high-bred beauty of the
+occupants. The cream of Madrid society was there. The adults were
+elegantly dressed, but not as masqueraders. The children in the
+carriages, however, were often costumed in the picturesque habits of
+the provinces--the scarlet cap and striped shawl of the Catalan
+peasant, the open velvet waistcoat, puffed trousers, and blue or red
+sash of the Valencian, the gayly embroidered mantle of the Andalusian
+mountaineer, the cocked hat and tasselled jacket of the gypsy. Moors,
+flower girls, fairies, French lords and ladies of the old regime, even
+court fools with cap and bells, were brightly imaged by these little
+people, to whom the maskers on foot seemed to have left the monopoly
+of beauty. The figures darting among the landaus, in and out of which
+they leaped with confident impudence, were almost invariably
+grotesques--smirking fishwives, staring chimney-sweeps, pucker-mouthed
+babies, and scarecrows of every variety. Political satires are sternly
+forbidden, and among the few national burlesques, we saw nowhere any
+representation of Uncle Sam. He was hardly a subject of the King of
+Nonsense then.
+
+Squeaking and gibbering, the maskers, unrebuked, took all manner of
+saucy liberties. A stately old gentleman rose from his cushion in a
+crested carriage to observe how gallantly a bevy of ladies were
+beating off with a hail of _confetti_ and bonbons an imploring
+cavalier who ran by their wheels, and when he would have resumed his
+seat he found himself dandled on the knees of a grinning Chinaman.
+Sometimes a swarm of maskers would beset a favorite carriage,
+climbing up beside the coachman and snatching his reins, standing on
+the steps and throwing kisses, lying along the back and twitting the
+proudest beauty in the ear or making love to the haughtiest. This
+all-licensed masker, with his monstrous disguise and affected squeal,
+may be a duke or a doorkeeper. Carnival is democracy.
+
+Meanwhile the inevitable small boy, whose Spanish variety is
+exceptionally light of heart and heels, gets his own fun out of the
+occasion by whisking under the ropes into this reserved avenue and
+dodging hither and thither among the vehicles, to the fury of the
+mounted police, whose duty it is to keep the public out. One
+resplendent rider devoted his full energies for nearly an hour to the
+unavailing chase of a nimble little rogue who risked ten of his nine
+lives under coaches and in front of horses' hoofs, but always turned
+up laughing with a finger at the nose.
+
+Yet this jocund day did not set without its tragedy. A hot-tempered
+Madrileno, abroad with his wife, resented the attentions paid her by
+one of the maskers and shot him down. The mortally wounded man was
+found to be a physician of high repute. This was not the only
+misadventure of the afternoon, a lady losing one eye by the blow of a
+flying sugar-plum.
+
+Our next night journey was less fortunate than our first, though it
+should be remembered that our discomforts were partly due to our
+persistency in travelling second-class. The carriage had its full
+complement of passengers, and each of our eight companions brought
+with him an unlawful excess of small luggage. Valises, boxes, bundles,
+sacks, cans, canes, umbrellas wedged us in on every side, while our
+own accumulation of grips, shawl-straps, hold-alls, and sketching kit
+denied us even the relief of indignation. We all sat bolt upright the
+night through in an atmosphere that sickens memory. Not a chink of
+window air would those sensitive _caballeros_ endure, while the smoke
+of their ever puffing cigarettes clouded the compartment with an
+uncanny haze that grew heavier hour by hour. Conversation, which
+seldom flagged, became a violent chorus at those intervals when the
+conductor burst in for another chapter of his serial wrangle with a
+fiery gentleman who refused to pay full fare. Every don in the
+carriage, even to the chubby priest nodding in the coziest corner, had
+an unalterable conviction as to the rights and wrongs of that
+question, and men we had supposed, from their swaying and snoring,
+fast asleep, would leap to their feet when the conductor entered,
+fling out their hands in vehement gestures, and dash into the midst of
+the vociferous dispute. Lazy Spaniards, indeed! We began to wish that
+the Peninsula would cultivate repose of manner. Our tempers were
+sorely shaken, and when, in the pale chill of dawn, we arrived at
+Cordova, sleepless, nauseated, and out of love with humanity, we had
+every prospect of passing a wretched forenoon.
+
+Thus it is I am inclined to believe we lay down under an orange tree
+and dreamed a dream of the "Arabian Nights." Or perhaps it was only
+another freak of the Carnival. At all events, a cup of coffee, and the
+world was changed. Cordova! A midsummer heat, a land of vineyards and
+olive groves, palms and aloes, a white, unearthly city, with narrow,
+silent, deathlike streets, peopled only by drowsy beggars and by
+gliding maskers that seemed more real than this Oriental picture in
+which they moved, high walls with grated, harem-like windows, and an
+occasional glimpse, through some arched doorway, into a
+marble-floored, rose-waving, fountain-playing patio, enchanted and
+mysterious, a dream within a dream. Cordova is more than haunted. It
+is itself a ghost. The court of the Spanish caliphs, at once the Mecca
+and the Athens of the West, a holy city which counted its baths and
+mosques by hundreds, a seat of learning whose universities were
+renowned for mathematics and philosophy, chemistry, astronomy, and
+medicine, and within whose libraries were treasured manuscripts by
+hundreds of thousands, a star of art and poetry, it ever reproaches,
+by this lovely, empty shadow, the Christian barbarism that spurned
+away the Moors.
+
+The insulted Mosque of Cordova well-nigh makes Mohammedans of us all.
+Entering by the studded Door of Pardon into the spacious Court of
+Oranges, with its ancient trees and sparkling quintette of fountains,
+one passes onward under the Arch of Blessings into a marble forest of
+slender, sculptured pillars. The wide world, from Carthage to
+Damascus, from Jerusalem to Ephesus and Rome, was searched for the
+choicest shafts of jasper, breccia, alabaster, porphyry, until one
+thousand four hundred precious columns bore the glory of rose-red
+arches and wonder-roof of gilded and enamelled cedar. More than seven
+thousand hanging lamps of bronze, filled with perfumed oil, flashed
+out the mosaic tints,--golds, greens, violets, vermilions,--of
+ceiling, walls, and pavement. All this shining sanctity culminated in
+the Mihrab, or Prayer-Niche, an octagonal recess whose shell-shaped
+ceiling is hollowed from a single block of pure white marble. This
+Holy of Holies held the Koran, bound in gold and pearls, around
+which the Faithful were wont to make seven turns upon their knees, an
+act of devotion that has left indisputable grooves in the marble of
+the pavement.
+
+  [Illustration: AN ARAB GATEWAY IN BURGOS]
+
+The Christian conquerors splashed whitewash over the exquisite
+ceiling, hewed down the pillars of the outer aisles to give space for
+a fringe of garish chapels, and even chopped away threescore
+glistening columns in the centre to make room for an incongruous
+Renaissance choir, with an altar of silver gilt and a big pink
+retablo. We could have wandered for endless hours among the strange
+half-lights and colored shadows of that petrified faith of Islam,
+marvelling on the processes of time. It is claimed that the Arab
+mosque rose on the site of a Roman temple, whence Mahomet drove forth
+Janus, to be in his own turn expelled by Christ. The race of those who
+bowed themselves in this gleaming labyrinth has fared ill at Spanish
+hands. Even now a Moor, however courteous and cultured, is refused
+admission to certain Castilian churches, as the Escorial.
+
+How did we ever part from Cordova, from her resplendent, desecrated
+mosque, her stone lanes of streets, her hinted patios, the Moorish
+mills and Roman bridge of her yellow Guadalquivir? It must all have
+been a morning dream, for the early afternoon saw us tucked away in
+another second-class carriage speeding toward Granada.
+
+We were in beautiful Andalusia, _la tierra de Maria Santisima_. The
+green slopes of the Sierra Morena, planted to the top with olive
+groves, watched the beginnings of our journey, and banks of strange,
+sweet flowers, with glimpses of Moorish minarets and groups of
+dark-faced, bright-sashed peasants, looking as if they had just
+stepped down from an artist's easel, beguiled us of all physical
+discomforts save heat and thirst. When the sun was at its sorest, the
+train drew up at a tumble-down station, and we looked eagerly for the
+customary water seller, with his cry of "Water! Fresh water! Water
+cooler than snow!" But it was too warm for this worthy to venture out,
+and our hopes fastened on a picturesque old merchant seated in a shaft
+of cypress shade beside a heap of golden oranges. Those juicy globes
+were a sight to madden all the parched mouths in the train, and
+imploring voices hailed the proprietor from window after window. But
+our venerable hidalgo smoked his cigarette in tranquil ease,
+disdaining the vulgarities of barter. At the very last moment we
+persuaded a ragged boy in the throng of bystanders to fetch us a
+hatful of the fruit. Then the peasant languidly arose, followed the
+lad to our window, named an infinitesimal price, and received his coin
+with the bow of a grandee. He was no hustler in business, this
+Andalusian patriarch, but his dignity was epic and his oranges were
+nectar.
+
+We shall never know whether or not we had an adventure that evening. A
+wild-eyed tatterdemalion swung himself suddenly into our compartment
+and demanded our tickets, but as all the Andalusians looked to our
+unaccustomed view like brigands, we did not discriminate against this
+abrupt individual, but yielded up our strips of pasteboard without
+demur. A swarthy young Moor of Tangier, the only other occupant of the
+carriage, sharply refused to surrender his own until the intruder
+should produce a conductor's badge, whereupon the stranger swore in
+gypsy, or "words to that effect," wrenched open the door and fled,
+like Judas, into the outer dark. The Moor excitedly declared to us
+that our tickets would be called for at the station in Granada, that
+we should have to pay their price to the gate-keeper, and that our
+irregular collector, hiding somewhere along the train, would be
+admitted by that corrupt official to a share in the spoils. Moved by
+our dismay, this son of the desert thrust his head through the window
+at the next stop, and roared so lustily for the conductor and the
+civil guard that, in a twinkling, the robber, if he was a robber,
+popped up in the doorway again, like a Jack-in-the-box, and rudely
+flung us back the tickets. Thereupon our benefactor, if he was a
+benefactor, solemnly charged us never, on the Granada road, to give up
+anything to anybody who wore no gilt on his cap.
+
+More and more the purple mountains were folding us about, until at
+last we arrived at Granada, too tired for a thrill. Mr. Gulick's
+constant care, which had secured us harborage in Madrid, had provided
+welcome here. Content in mere well-being, it was not until the
+following afternoon that tourist enterprise revived within us. Then we
+somewhat recklessly wandered down from the Alhambra hill into the
+heart of the People's Carnival, a second Sunday of festival given over
+to the enjoyment of the lower classes. The grotesque costumes were
+coarser than ever and the fun was rougher. The maskers cracked whips
+at the other promenaders, blew horns, shook rattles, and struck about
+them with painted bladders, but the balconies were bright with the
+bewitching looks of Andalusian beauties, each vying with the rest in
+throwing the many-colored _serpentinas_, curly lengths of paper that
+crisp themselves in gaudy fetters about their captives. A single
+business house in Granada claimed to have sold over a million of
+these, representing a value of some ten thousand dollars, during
+Carnival week. Southern Spain was grumbling bitterly against the
+Government and the war taxes, and in Seville, where a tax is put on
+masks, the Carnival had been given up this year as last; but Granada
+would not be cheated of her frolic. Our study of this closing phase of
+the Carnival was cut short by the recollection that it was, above all,
+the _fiesta_ of pickpockets. Finding ourselves, on the superb _Paseo
+del Salon_, in the midst of a hooting, jostling, half-gypsy mob,
+rained upon with _confetti_, called upon in broken French and English,
+pressed upon by boys and beggars, and happening to catch sight of the
+stately bronze statue of Columbus which the women of Granada had
+recently stoned because, by discovering America, he brought all the
+Cuban troubles upon Spain, we took the hint of the wise navigator's
+eye and decided that we two stray Yankees might be as well off
+somewhere else. "Feet, why do I love you?" say the Spaniards; and so
+said we, suiting the action to the word.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+WITHIN THE ALHAMBRA
+
+     "The Sierra Nevada, an enormous dove which shelters under its
+     most spotless wings Saracen Granada."--ALARCON: _Los Seis
+     Velos_.
+
+
+Our surprises were by no means over. We had come to Granada to bask in
+the quintessence of earthly sunshine, and we found bleak rains, dark
+skies, and influenza. The Moorish palace was indeed as wonderful as
+our lifelong dream of it,--arched and columned halls of exquisite
+fretwork, walls of arabesque where flushes and glints of color linger
+yet, ceilings crusted with stalactite figures of tapering caprice, but
+all too chill, even if the guides would cease from troubling, for
+tarrying revery. We tarried, nevertheless, were enraptured, and caught
+cold. We were dwelling in the village on the Alhambra hill, within the
+circuit of the ruined fortress, in a villa kept by descendants of the
+Moors, but the insolent grippe microbe respected neither ancient blood
+nor republican. During the month of our residence, every member of the
+household was brought low in turn, and there were days when even the
+stubborn Yankees retreated to their pillows, lulled by the howling of
+as wild March winds as ever whirled the grasshopper vane on Faneuil
+Hall. From beyond the partition sounded the groans of our
+fever-smitten hostess, and from the kitchen below arose the noise of
+battle between our sturdy host and the rebel spoons and sauce-pans. If
+we could not always swallow his bold experiments in gruel and
+porridge, we could always enjoy the roars of laughter with which that
+merry silversmith plied his unaccustomed labors. It is said that there
+are only three months of the year when Granada is fit to live in, and
+certainly February and March are not of these. But our delighted
+spirits had no thought of surrender to our discomfited bodies. We
+would not go away. It is better to ache in beautiful Granada than to
+be at ease elsewhere.
+
+At the first peep of convalescence, we fled out of doors in search of
+a sunbeam and discovered, again to our surprise, this immemorial
+Alhambra hill as young as springtime. The famous fragments of towers,
+with their dim legends of enchantment, all those tumbled masses of
+time-worn, saffron-lichened masonry, are tragically old, yet the
+tender petals of peach blossoms, drifting through the fragrant air,
+lay pink as baby touches against those hoary piles. We rested beside
+many an ancient ruin overclambered by red rosebuds or by branches
+laden with the fresh gold of oranges, where thrushes practised songs
+of welcome for the nightingales. We were too early for these sweetest
+minstrels of the Alhambra, who, like the Moors of long ago, were
+yearning on the edge of Africa for the Vega of Granada.
+
+One expects, shut in by the crumbling walls of the Alhambra, in shadow
+of the ruddy towers, in sound of the Moslem fountains, to live with
+dreams and visions for one's company, to have no associates less
+dignified than the moonlight cavalcades of shadowy Arabian warriors,
+whom the mountain caverns cast forth at stated seasons to troop once
+more in their remembered ways, or lustrous-eyed, lute-playing
+sultanas, or, at least, a crook-backed, snow-bearded magician, with a
+wallet full of talismans, and footsteps that clink like the gold of
+buried treasure. But here again the eternal fact of youth in the world
+disconcerts all venerable calculations. The Alhambra dances and laughs
+with children--ragamuffins, most of them, but none the less radiant
+with the precious joy of the morning.
+
+They are gentle little people, too. It became well known on the hill
+that we were Americans, yet not a pebble or rude word followed us from
+the groups of unkempt boys among whom we daily passed. Once a mimic
+regiment, with a deafening variety of unmusical instruments and a
+genuine Spanish flag, charged on me roguishly and drew up in battle
+square about their prisoner, but it was only to troll the staple song
+of Spanish adolescence: "I want to be a soldier," and when I had
+munificently rewarded the captain with a copper, the youngsters doffed
+their varied headgear, dipped their banner in martial salute, and
+contentedly re-formed their ranks. It was seldom that we gave money,
+but we usually carried _dulces_ for the little ones, who, even the
+dirtiest, have their own pretty standard of manners.
+
+Some half-dozen _pequenitos_, not one of whom was clearly out of
+petticoats, were scampering off one day, for instance, their thanks
+duly spoken, and their bits of candy just between hand and mouth, when
+they turned with one accord, as if suddenly aware of an abruptness in
+their leave-taking, and trotted back to bow them low, their tatters of
+cap sweeping the ground, and lisp with all Spanish gravity, "Good
+afternoon, senora." One chubby hidalgo tipped over with the
+profundity of his obeisance, but the others righted him so solemnly
+that the dignity of the ceremonial was unimpaired.
+
+The habit of begging, that plague of tourist resorts, is an incessant
+nuisance on the Alhambra hill. Half-grown girls and young women were
+the most shameless and persistent of our tormentors. Age can be
+discouraged, and babyhood diverted, while the Spanish boy, if his
+importunities are met by smile and jest, will break into a laugh in
+the midst of his most pathetic appeals and let you off till next time.
+
+"A little money for our Blessed Lady's sake, senora. I am starving."
+
+"Wouldn't you rather have a cigarette?"
+
+"And that I would."
+
+"Then you are not starving, little brother. Run away. I have no
+cigarettes."
+
+"But you have money for me, senora."
+
+"No, nor enough for myself, not enough to buy one tile of the
+Alhambra."
+
+"Then may God take care of you!"
+
+"And of you!"
+
+  [Illustration: PLAYING AT BULL-FIGHT]
+
+But the wild-haired, jet-eyed gypsy girl from the Albaicin is
+impervious to mirth and untouched by courtesy. She would not do us the
+honor of believing our word, even when we were telling the truth.
+
+"Five _centimos_ to buy me a scarlet ribbon! Five _centimos_!"
+
+"Not to-day, excuse me. I have no change."
+
+"Hoh! You have change enough. Look in your little brown bag and see."
+
+"I have no change."
+
+"Then give me a _peseta_. Come, now, a whole _peseta_!"
+
+"But why should I give you a _peseta_?"
+
+The girl stares like an angry hawk.
+
+"But why shouldn't you?" Darting away, she hustles together a group of
+toddlers, hardly able to lisp, and drives them on to the attack.
+
+"Beg, Isabelita! Beg of the lady, little Conception! Beg, Alfonsito!
+Beg, beg, beg! Beg five _centimos_, ten _centimos_! Beg a _peseta_ for
+us all!"
+
+And out pop the tiny palms, and the babble of baby voices makes a
+pleading music in the air. It is for such as these that the little
+brown bag has learned to carry _dulces_.
+
+Before the month was over we had, in a slow, grippe-chastened fashion,
+"done our Baedeker." We had our favorite courts and corridors in the
+magical maze of the Moorish palace; we knew the gardens and fountains
+of the _Generalife_, even to that many-centuried cypress beneath whose
+shade the Sultana Zoraya was wont to meet her Abencerrage lover; our
+fortunes had been told in the gypsy caves of the Albaicin; we had
+visited the stately Renaissance cathedral where, in a dim vault, the
+"Catholic Kings," Ferdinand and Isabella, take their royal rest; we
+had made a first acquaintance with the paintings of the fire-tempered
+Granadine, Alonso Cano, and paid our dubious respects to the convent
+of Cartuja, with its over-gorgeous ornament and its horrible pictures
+of Spanish martyrdoms inflicted by that "devil's bride," Elizabeth of
+England. We had explored the parks and streets of the strange old
+city, where we possessed, according to the terms of Spanish
+hospitality, several houses; but better than the clamorous town we
+liked our own wall-girdled height, with its songful wood of English
+elms, planted by the Duke of Wellington, its ever murmuring runlets
+of clear water, its jessamines and myrtles, its Arabian Nights of
+mosque and tower, and its far outlook over what is perhaps the most
+entrancing prospect any hill of earth can show. The sunset often found
+us leaning over the ivied wall beneath the _Torre de la Vela_, that
+bell-tower where the first cross was raised after the Christian
+conquest, gazing forth from our trellised garden-nook on a vast
+panorama of gray city all quaintly set with arch and cupola, of
+sweeping plain with wealth of olive groves, vineyards, orange
+orchards, pomegranates, aloes, and cypresses, bounded by glistening
+ranks of snow-cloaked mountains. From the other side of the Alhambra
+plateau, the fall is sheer to the silver line of the Darro. Across the
+river rises the slope of the Albaicin, once the chosen residence of
+Moorish aristocracy, but now dotted over, amid the thickets of cactus
+and prickly pear, with whitewashed entrances to gypsy caves. Beyond
+all shine the resplendent summits of the great Sierras.
+
+Yet it is strange how homely are many of the memories that spring to
+life in me at the name of the Alhambra,--decorous donkeys, laden with
+water-jars, trooping up the narrow footpath to the old Fountain of
+Tears, herds of goats clinging like flies to the upright precipice, a
+lurking peasant darting out on his wife as she passes with a day's
+earnings hidden in her stocking and holding her close, with laughter
+and coaxing, while he persistently searches her clothing until he
+finds and appropriates that copper hoard, and our own cheery little
+house-drudge washing our linen in a wayside rivulet and singing like a
+bird as she rubs and pounds an unfortunate handkerchief between two
+haphazard stones:--
+
+     "I like to live in Granada,
+       It pleases me so well
+     When I am falling asleep at night
+       To hear the _Vela_ bell."
+
+There is the proud young mother, too, whom we came upon by chance over
+behind the Tower of the Princesses, where her pot of _puchero_ was
+bubbling above a miniature bonfire, while the velvet-eyed baby boy
+sucked his thumb in joyous expectation. She often made us welcome,
+after that, to her home,--a dingy stone kitchen and bedroom,
+unfurnished save for pallet, a few cooking-utensils, a chest or two,
+and, fastened to the wall, a gaudy print of _La Virgen de las
+Angustias_, the venerated _Patrona_ of Granada. But this wretched
+abode, the remains of what may once have been a palace, opened on a
+lordly pleasure-garden with walls inlaid with patterns of rainbow
+tiles, whose broken edges were hidden by rose bushes. There were
+pedestals and even fragments of images in this wild Eden, jets of
+sparkling water and walks of variegated marble. In the course of the
+month, English and Spanish callers climbed the hill to us and
+encompassed us with kindness, but we still maintained our incorrigible
+taste for low society and used to hold informal receptions on sunny
+benches for all the tatterdemalions within sight. Swarthy boys,
+wearied with much loafing, would thriftily lay aside their cigarettes
+to favor us with conversation, asking many questions about America,
+for whose recent action they gallantly declined to hold us
+responsible. "It was not the ladies that made the war," said these
+modern cavaliers of the Alhambra.
+
+Their especial spokesman was a shambling orphan lad of some fifteen
+summers, with shrewd and merry eyes. Nothing pleased him better than
+to give an ornamental hitch to the shabby, bright-colored scarf about
+his thin, brown throat, and proceed to expound the political
+situation.
+
+"You admire the Alhambra? I suppose you have no palaces in America
+because your Government is a republic. That is a very good thing. Our
+Government is the worst possible. All the loss falls on the poor. All
+the gain goes to the rich. But there are few rich in Spain. America is
+the richest country of all the world. When America fought us it was as
+a rich man, fed and clothed, fighting a poor man weak from famine. And
+the rich man took from the poor man all that he had. Spain has nothing
+left--nothing."
+
+"Oh, don't say that! Spain has the Alhambra, and beautiful churches,
+beautiful pictures."
+
+"Can one eat churches and pictures, my lady?"
+
+"And a fertile soil. What country outblooms Andalusia?"
+
+His half-shod foot kicked the battle-trampled earth of the immortal
+hill contemptuously.
+
+"Soil! Yes. All the world has soil. It serves to be buried in."
+
+This budding politician graced us with his company one Sunday
+afternoon, when we went down into Granada to see a religious
+procession. Our Lady of Lourdes, escorted by a distinguished train of
+ecclesiastical and civic dignitaries, with pomp of many shining lights
+and sonorous instruments, with peal of church bells and incongruous
+popping of fireworks, passed through extended ranks of candle-bearing
+worshippers, along thronged streets, where every balcony was hung with
+the national red and yellow, to the Church of Mary Magdalene. There
+the sacred guest was entertained with a concert, and thence conducted,
+with the same processional state, amid the same reverent salutations
+of the multitude, back to her own niche. Our youthful guide showed
+himself so devout on this occasion, kneeling whenever the image, borne
+aloft in a glory of flowers and tapers, passed us, and gazing on every
+feature of the pageant with large-eyed adoration, that we asked him,
+as we climbed the hill again, if he would like to be a priest. But he
+shrugged his shoulders. "There are better Christians in Spain than the
+priests," he answered.
+
+The son of the house, Don Pepe, a young man of five and twenty, who
+usually attended us on any difficult excursion, was also frankly
+outspoken in his disapproval of the clergy. He could hardly hold his
+countenance in passing a Franciscan friar. "There walks the ruin of
+Spain," he muttered once, with bitter accent, turning to scowl after
+the bareheaded, brown-frocked figure so common in Granada streets. We
+had, indeed, our own little grudge against the friars, for they were
+the only men of the city who forced us off the narrow sidewalks out
+into the rough and dirty road. All other Granadines, from dandies to
+gypsies, yielded us the strip of pavement with ready courtesy, but the
+friars, three or four in Indian file, would press on their way like
+graven images and drive us to take refuge among the donkeys.
+
+This escort of ours, formally a Catholic, was no more a lover of State
+than of Church. He was eager to get to work in the world and, finding
+no foothold, charged up his grievance against the Government. He was
+firmly persuaded that Madrid had sold the Santiago and Manila
+victories to Washington for sums of money down,--deep down in
+official pockets. But his talk, however angry, would always end in
+throwing out the hands with a gesture of despair.
+
+"But what use in revolutions? Spain is tired--tired of tumult, tired
+of bloodshed, tired of deceit and disappointment. A new government
+would only mean the old dogs with new collars. We, the people, are
+always the bone to be gnawed bare. What use in anything? Let it go as
+God wills."
+
+The Silvela and Polavieja ministry came in during our stay at Granada,
+and the Liberal and Republican chorus against what was known as the
+Reactionary Government swelled loud. "It means the yoke of the
+Jesuits," growled our burly host. Our Alhambra dream suffered frequent
+jars from these ignoble confusions of to-day. When we were musing
+comfortably on the melancholy fortunes of Boabdil, a cheap newspaper
+would be thrust before our eyes with an editorial headed "Boabdil
+Sagasta." It is always best to do what one must. Since we could not be
+left in peace to the imagination of plumy cavaliers, stars of Moslem
+and Christian chivalry, who sowed this mount so thick with glorious
+memories, we turned our thoughts to the poor soldiers from Cuba,
+especially during the week throughout which they paraded the cities of
+Spain in rag-tag companies under rude flags with the ruder motto:
+"_Hungry Repatriados_." Their appearance was so woful that it became a
+by-word. A child, picking up from a gutter one day a mud-stained,
+dog-eared notebook, cried gleefully, "It's a _repatriado_." There was
+no glamour here, but the courage and sacrifice, the love and anguish,
+held good.
+
+Granada had borne her share in Spain's last war sorrow. So many of her
+sons were drafted for the Antilles that her anger against America
+waxed hot. A few months before our arrival every star-spangled banner
+that could be hunted out in shop or residence was trampled and burned
+in the public squares. The Washington Irving Hotel hastened to take
+down its sign, and even the driver of its omnibus was sternly warned
+by the people to erase those offensive American names from his vehicle
+on pain of seeing it transformed into a chariot of fire. A shot,
+possibly accidental, whistled through the office of the English
+consul, who was given to understand, in more ways than one, that Spain
+made little difference between "the cloaked enemy" and the foe in the
+field. Meanwhile, month after month, the recruits were marched to the
+station, and the City Fathers, who came in all municipal dignity to
+bid the lads godspeed, were so overwhelmed by the weeping of the women
+that they forgot the cream of their speeches.
+
+Among the new tales of Spanish valor told us on the Alhambra hill was
+this:--
+
+When lots were drawn for military service, one blithe young scapegrace
+found in his hand a fortunate high number, but, walking away in fine
+feather over his luck, he met the mother of a friend of his, sobbing
+wildly as she went. Her son had been drafted, and the two hundred
+dollars of redemption money was as far beyond her reach as those
+dazzling crests of the Sierra Nevada are above the lame beggar at the
+Alhambra gate. Then the kindly fellow, troubled by her grief and
+mindful of the fact that, orphan as he was, his own parting would be
+at no such cost of tears, offered to serve in her boy's stead. Her
+passion of gratitude could not let his service go all unrecompensed.
+Poorest of the poor, she went about among her humble friends, lauding
+his deed, until she had collected, _peseta_ by _peseta_, the sum of
+sixteen dollars, which she thrust into his hands to buy comforts for
+the campaign. But another sobbing mother sought him out. He had saved
+her neighbor's son; would he not save hers? Laughing at her logic and
+moved by her faith in him, he answered: "I am only one man, senora. I
+cannot go in place of two. But here are sixteen dollars. If you can
+find a substitute at such a price, the money is yours."
+
+Sixteen dollars is a fortune to hunger and nakedness, and the
+substitute was found. As the year wore on those two mothers did not
+let the city forget its light-hearted hero, and a great assembly
+gathered at the station to honor his return. A remnant of his comrades
+descended from the train, but as for him, they said, he had died in
+Cuba of the fever months before.
+
+His was no poetic death like that of the Abencerrages. Happy
+Abencerrages! They knew the Alhambra in the freshness of her beauty.
+Their last uplifted glances looked upon the most exquisite ceilings in
+the world. Their blood left immortal stains on the marble base of the
+fountain. But this young Spaniard, in his obscure Cuban grave, only
+one out of the eighty thousand, will promptly be forgotten. _No
+importa._ There must be something better than glory for the man who
+does more than his duty.
+
+  [Illustration: THE MOSQUE OF CORDOVA]
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+A FUNCTION IN GRANADA
+
+     "O Love Divine, Celestial Purity,
+       Pity my cries!
+     My soul is prone before a clouded throne.
+       Let thy keen light arise,
+     Pierce this obscurity
+       And free my dream-bound eyes!"
+                                   --_Ganivet's Last Poem._
+
+
+The civilization of Spain, streaked as it is with Oriental barbarisms,
+belated and discouraged as the end of the nineteenth century finds it,
+is still in many respects finer than our own. In everything that
+relates to grace and charm of social intercourse, to the dignified
+expression of reverence, compassion, and acknowledgment, Spain puts us
+to the blush. I was especially touched in Granada by the whole-souled
+sympathy and veneration with which the city rendered public honors to
+one of its sons, Angel Ganivet, who died in the preceding winter, a
+poet hardly thirty.
+
+Although I had glanced over obituary notices of this Spanish writer in
+the Paris papers, I had but a vague idea of his work and life, and
+sought, before the night of the memorial ceremonies, for further
+information. I appealed, first of all, to our table waiter, whose
+keen black eyes instantly turned sad and tender.
+
+"_Pobre! Pobre!_ He threw himself into the river at Riga, in Russia,
+where he was consul. It was at the close of the war. And he such a
+genius! So young! So true a Spaniard! But all Granada will be at the
+theatre. He left his play to Granada, asking that it be seen here
+first of all. I have never read his books, but I have met him in the
+streets, and lifted my hat to him for a wise _caballero_ who cared
+greatly for Spain."
+
+My next appeal was to our kind neighbor, the English consul, who
+assured me laughingly that he, like myself, was vainly ransacking the
+few bookstores of Granada for Ganivet's works.
+
+"The first time I ever heard the name," he added, "was some three or
+four years ago, when I noticed an old gentleman standing often in
+front of my house, and gazing at the British coat-of-arms above my
+door. He told me one day when I drew him into talk that he had a
+nephew, Angel Ganivet, roaming in foreign lands. 'But he does not
+forget his old uncle,' said he. 'I always receive my little pension
+prompt to the day, and so I like to look at the foreign shields about
+the city, and remember my nephew, far away, who remembers me.' That
+was a trifle, of course, but it gave me a kindly feeling for the young
+fellow, and I'm sorry he came to such an end. They found him in the
+river, you know. I dare say it was suicide, and likely enough the
+defeat of Spain had its share in causing his despondency; but nobody
+knows. He was a zealous patriot, I understand, and all Granada seems
+to take his death to heart."
+
+My next authority was an aged Granadine, a man of letters; but he had
+not read Ganivet's books.
+
+"I have heard of him often," he said, "but I never met him. He was not
+much in Granada, although he seems to have had a romantic affection
+for the place. _Bueno!_ Its pomegranates are worth remembering. But
+Ganivet liked to live in foreign countries, with the idea of
+understanding his own better by comparison. He was young; he still had
+hopes for Spain. Eighty years are on my head, and I have long done
+with hoping. I have served in my country's armies, I have served in
+her Government, I have seen much of Church and State, and since the
+night when they murdered General Prim I have seen nothing good. But
+Ganivet had faith in the national future, and the people, without
+waiting to ask on what that faith was founded, love him for it, and
+mourn his loss as if he had been their benefactor. They are all going
+to pour into the theatre to-morrow night to hear his symbolic drama,
+that not one in a hundred of them will try to understand, and the
+hundredth will get it all wrong."
+
+The "function" took place in the _Gran Teatro de Isabel la Catolica_,
+a name to conjure with throughout all Spain, and especially in
+Granada. The day set for the performance, and widely advertised by
+newspapers and posters for a month in advance, was a Wednesday. On
+Tuesday, in a fever lest we be too late, we arrived at the ticket
+office. We had our hurry all to ourselves. Apparently nobody else had
+as yet taken a seat. The office was empty, save for us and our
+attendant train of boys and beggars.
+
+The official in charge, deaf, slow, and courteous, invited us into a
+private room and gave us rocking-chairs by the _brasero_, while he,
+with paper and pencil, laboriously added the price of our _entradas_
+to the price of our modest box, and spent five minutes in subtracting
+the amount from the figure of the small bill we handed him. The
+counting out of the change was another strain on his arithmetic, and,
+after all these toils, we were still without tickets. He said he would
+"write them out at home," and we might send some one for them the next
+day. But he affably offered to show us the theatre, and led us through
+black passages to a great dusky space, where, while he struck match
+after match, we could catch glimpses of pit and balconies, and even a
+far-off stage, with a group of actors gathered about a lamp,
+rehearsing the play. In Wednesday morning's paper, however, they
+announced with entire nonchalance that they were not ready yet, and
+would postpone the representation until Thursday.
+
+On Thursday evening the theatre, choking full though it was, hardly
+presented a brilliant appearance. Granada is not Madrid, nor Seville,
+and the best the Granadines had to offer their dead poet was the
+tribute of their presence in such guise as they could command. The
+big, barnlike theatre, with its rows of broken lamp-chimneys, looked
+shabby, and the rag-tag proportion of the audience was so great that
+it overflowed the _Paraiso_ into the aisles and doorways and all
+conceivable corners. People were so jumbled and crumpled together
+that, with reminiscences of my traveller's hold-all, I found myself
+wondering if they would ever shake out smooth again.
+
+Whole families were there, from the infant in arms that invariably
+screamed when the actors were reciting any passage of peculiar
+delicacy, to the dozing old grandfather, who kept dropping his
+cigarette out of his mouth in a way that threatened to set us all on
+fire. The gentlemen, even in the boxes and the stalls, were generally
+ungloved, and we did not see a dress suit in the house. Cloaks and
+neckties were ablaze with color as usual, but the masculine toilets
+eluded our stricter observation; for when the curtain was up, our eyes
+were all for the stage, and between acts your Spaniard sits with hat
+on head, enveloped in a cloud of tobacco smoke.
+
+But the Andalusian ladies made amends for everything. By some
+prehistoric agreement, Spanish women have yielded the rainbow to the
+men, reserving for their own attire the quiet elegance of black or the
+festive beauty of pure white. The dress that evening, even in the
+principal boxes, was conspicuously simple. But the clear brunette
+complexions, the delicate contours, the rich black hair worn high and
+crowned with natural flowers, the waving fans and flashing glances,
+cast a glamour over the whole scene.
+
+The memorial rites themselves made up in quantity whatever they might
+lack in quality, continuing from eight o'clock till two. An orchestra,
+organized from Granada musicians for this occasion, opened the
+programme. The bust of Ganivet, wrought by a young Granada sculptor,
+was reverently unveiled. The star actor, Fuentes of Granada, who had
+undertaken with his troupe to present his fellow-townsman's drama
+purely as a labor of love, read an interpretation written by one of
+Granada's leading critics. The orchestra was in evidence again,
+introducing the first act, entitled "Faith." After this the orchestra
+played Breton's serenade, "In the Alhambra," and the curtain rose for
+the second act on so natural a scene-painting of the famous fortress
+that the audience went wild with enthusiasm, and the blushing artist,
+also a Granadine, had to be literally shoved from the wings upon the
+stage to receive his plaudits.
+
+Between the second act, "Love," and the last act, "Death," came an
+_andante elegiaco_, "written expressly for this artistic solemnity" by
+a Granada composer. Here, again, the appreciation of the audience was
+unbounded, and nothing would do but the reluctant master must leave
+his box, struggle through the packed multitude to the conductor's
+stand, and take the baton himself for a second rendering from the
+first chord to the last. At the close of the third act the orchestra
+did its part once more, and the celebration ended, somewhat
+incongruously, with a lively bit of modern comedy.
+
+There was imperfection enough, had one been disposed to look for it.
+The fifty members of the impromptu orchestra had hardly brought
+themselves into accord, the acting was not of the best Spanish
+quality, and the players had not half learned their parts. Every long
+declamation was a duet, the prompter's rapid undertone charging along
+beneath the actor's voice like a horse beneath its rider. But the
+audience understood, forgave, were grateful, and sat with sublime
+patience through the long pauses between the acts, repeating one to
+another, "They say Fuentes is studying his speeches." As the caustic
+old scholar had predicted, most of them, apparently, did not try to
+understand the allegory. They applauded the obviously poetic touches,
+the palpably dramatic situations, and when, in the Alhambra act, a
+gypsy air was sung, the galleries delightedly caught it up and
+chorused it over again.
+
+But in general that nondescript assembly looked on in passive gravity
+while _El Escultor de su Alma_ was rendered, as their poet had
+bidden, in their own theatre and for them. They may have gathered
+hints and snatches of that mystical message from the dead, whose lofty
+look, fixed in shining marble, dominated all the house.
+
+The restless Spirit of Man, seeking the perfect Truth, tears himself
+loose from the bride of his youth, Heavenly Faith, and wanders in
+beggary through the world. Yet Truth for him can only be the child of
+his union with Faith, and in parting from one he has parted from both.
+In old age, almost maddened by his wanderings and woes, he meets his
+Truth again, full-grown and beautiful, but is so fierce and wild in
+his desire to possess her that only Death can reconcile them--Death
+and that Heavenly Faith who could not abandon him, though he had
+forsaken her.
+
+Ganivet's mother, who, with his brothers, witnessed the play from
+behind the scenes, is said to have rejoiced in it as a last solemn
+assurance from her son of his secure repose in the Catholic faith of
+his fathers. It may not have meant so much to that great audience,
+many of whom could neither read nor write, but those tiers upon tiers
+of dark Spanish faces were full of earnestness and of a proud content.
+However it may have baffled their heads, this legacy of a play, in its
+Alhambra setting, spoke clearly to their hearts. One ragamuffin said
+to another, as an all-sufficient criticism, "He was thinking of
+Granada when he wrote it."
+
+A few days later, I found and eagerly read Angel Ganivet's most
+significant booklet, _Idearium_, published in the autumn of 1896, in
+which he sets forth his dream for the future of his beloved country.
+
+Ganivet claims that the deepest moral element in Spanish character is
+stoicism, "not the brutal and heroic stoicism of Cato, nor the serene
+and majestic stoicism of Marcus Aurelius, nor the rigid and extreme
+stoicism of Epictetus, but the natural and humane stoicism of Seneca."
+He holds that Seneca, himself a Spaniard, found his philosophy in the
+inherent genius of the country, and only gave voice to the indwelling
+soul of Spain. The Spanish church, cherishing this element, became a
+thing apart from the general Catholicism of Europe. The long warfare
+and incidental intercourse with the Moors stamped Spanish Christianity
+with its two other characteristic features of mysticism and
+fanaticism. "Mysticism was like a sanctification of African
+sensuality, and fanaticism was a turning against ourselves, when the
+Reconquest ended, of the fury accumulated during eight centuries of
+combat."
+
+The author, _muy espanol_, is naturally _muy catolico_, yet he
+protests against violence in the repression of other forms of
+religion. "Liberty should bring with it no fear." He believes that
+Spain is, above all, _sui generis_, independent and individual. The
+representative Spaniard is a free lance, striving and conquering by
+his own impulse and under his own direction, like the Cid of old or
+Cortes in the field of arms, like Loyola in the church, like Cervantes
+in letters. He lays stress on the achievements of Spanish art--the
+master paintings of Velazquez and Murillo, the master dramas of Lope
+de Vega and Calderon, as expressing, better than political history has
+expressed, that intensification of Spanish life resulting from the
+struggle against the Arabs "and making of our nation a Christian
+Greece."
+
+  [Illustration: THE COLUMBUS MONUMENT IN GRANADA]
+
+He finds it logical and right that Spain, after her successive
+periods of Roman influence, Visigothic influence, Arab influence,
+and her modern era of colonial expansion, should now abandon foreign
+policies and concentrate all her vitality within her own borders. Not
+by the sword, but by the spirit, would he have Spain henceforth hold
+sway over mankind, and especially over the Spanish-descended peoples
+of South America.
+
+He winces under the monopoly of the term "American" by the citizens of
+the United States--"a formidable nation," he admits, "very populous,
+very rich, and apparently very well governed." He notes, in contrast,
+the poverty and comparative anarchy of the South American republics,
+but he urges still that the Spanish character, shaped through such
+eventful centuries, is an entity, clear and firm, with qualities well
+defined, whereas the Yankees are yet in the fusing pot. He would have
+all the peoples of Hispanian descent recognize and realize in
+themselves this Spanish individuality, effecting not a political
+union, but a "confederation, intellectual and spiritual," whose first
+aim should be the preservation of Spanish ideas and ideals, and the
+second, the free gift of these to all the nations of the earth.
+
+The ancient glory of Spain, he says, has vanished like a dream; let a
+new and whiter glory dawn. Her career of material conquest is ended.
+Those savage struggles have left her faint and spent. Let her now seek
+to attain, through purification and discipline, such fresh fulness of
+life as shall insure the triumph of her spiritual forces--her fervent
+faith and her unworldly wisdom. "Our Ulysses is Don Quixote."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+IN SIGHT OF THE GIRALDA
+
+     "We were nearing Seville. I felt the eager throbbing of my
+     heart. Seville had ever been for me the symbol of light, the
+     city of love and joy."--VALDES: _La Hermana San Sulpicio_.
+
+
+One of the wise sayings of Andalusia runs, "Do not squeeze the orange
+till the juice is bitter." And so we said good-by to Granada before we
+were ready to go, and persuaded ourselves, in defiance of maps and
+time-tables, that our shortest route to Seville led by Ronda. The
+weather did its very best to dampen our enthusiasm for this wildest of
+crag aeries, equally famed for romantic beauty of outlook and
+salubrity of air. Men live long in Ronda, unless, indeed, they hit
+against a bullet while practising their hereditary trade of
+_contrabandista_. They have a saying that octogenarians there are only
+chickens, but one should not believe all that they say in Ronda. Did
+we not clamber, slipping on wet stones, down a precipitous path to
+peer, from under dripping umbrellas, at what our guide declared was an
+old Roman bridge? "It doesn't look old and it doesn't look Roman," was
+the artist's dubious comment, but our highly recommended conductor, a
+Gib, as the English-Spanish natives of Gibraltar Rock are called,
+assured us that it was built in the days of Julius Caesar, but had been
+wonderfully well preserved. We eyed him thoughtfully, bearing in mind
+that he had already pointed out the statue of a long-dead poet as a
+living politician; but we meekly continued through the lashing rain to
+follow his long footsteps over the breakneck ways of that natural
+fortress where race after race has left its autograph. The Roman
+columns of the church make the Arab cupolas look young, and put the
+Gothic choir altogether out of countenance. A bright-shawled peasant
+woman, who we fondly hoped might be a smuggler's wife, drew us
+delicious water from a Roman well in a Moorish patio, where a mediaeval
+king of gentle memory used to drink his wine from cups wrought of the
+skulls of those enemies whom he had beheaded with his own sword. But
+not all this, and more, could efface our doubts of that Roman bridge,
+which, indeed, we found, on a belated perusal of our guide-books, had
+been erected by a Malaga architect in the last century.
+
+The street rabble of Ronda was the rudest and fiercest we encountered
+anywhere in Spain. Several times our guide wheeled suddenly to
+confront some gypsyish lad, creeping up behind us with stone all ready
+to throw, and when, at a glint of sunset through the stormy clouds, we
+tried to slip out unattended to the neighboring _alameda_, with its
+far-sweeping prospect of folded mountain ranges and its vertical view
+of gorge and rushing river, the children actually hounded us back to
+the hotel. Their leader was a scrofulous boy, with one cheek eaten
+away, who had been taught to press his face so closely upon strangers
+that, in fear of his open sore, they would hastily give money to keep
+him back. He was a merry scamp and got a world of sport out of his
+sickening business, laughing at the top of his voice to see himself
+"avoided like the sun."
+
+Although the tempest had lulled by evening, Ronda, still inhospitable,
+would not let us sleep. All up and down the window-grated street
+sounded, from midnight to morning, a tinkling of guitars. It was,
+forsooth, St. Joseph's Day, and every Don Jose, every Dona Josefa,
+every little Pepe, every pretty Pepita, must be saluted by a serenade.
+All Andalusians are musical, taking much pleasure, moreover, in one of
+their own bits of philosophy, "The poorest player has his uses, for he
+can at least drive the rats out of the house." Rats or no, we left
+Ronda by the morning train.
+
+Our carriage was crowded with several Spaniards and a "Jew-Gib," who,
+without saying "_oxte ni moxte_," assumed full charge of us and our
+belongings for the journey. This unceremonious but really helpful
+escort put every one of his fellow-travellers through a sharp
+catechism as to birthplace, business, destination, and the like. Our
+turn came first of all. "You are English?" "We speak English." "Ha!"
+He fell into our own vernacular. "Came about three thousand miles to
+Spain?" "Across the channel." He chuckled with prompt appreciation of
+the situation and mendaciously translated to the carriage at large,
+"The ladies are distinguished Londoners, on their way to visit
+relatives in Seville," whereat the Andalusians smiled sleepily upon us
+and asked permission to smoke. We consented cheerfully, as our Spanish
+sisters had taught us that we should. "I like it," one pallid senora
+had said on an earlier trip. "It makes me sick, yes, but men ought to
+be men."
+
+We were journeying toward the very palace of the sun, with gray ranks
+of olive trees standing guard on either hand. "And posted among them,
+like white doves, could be seen now and again a few mills where the
+bitter olive is wont to pour its juice." Orange plantations and hedges
+of the bluish aloe, fig trees, palms, and all manner of strange,
+tropical flowers gladdened our approach to Seville. And when, at last,
+we saw from afar the world-praised Giralda, the Moorish bell-tower of
+the cathedral, soaring pink into a purple sky, we felt as if we were
+really arrived in fairyland.
+
+Our friendly Gib put his tall figure between us and the howling press
+of swarthy porters and cab-drivers, scolded, expostulated, threatened,
+picked out his men, beat down their prices, called up a policeman to
+witness the bargain and take the number of our cab, raised his hat,
+and vanished into grateful memory.
+
+Six weeks in Seville! And six weeks in a Seville home, where evening
+after evening the gay youth of Andalusia laughed and sang, danced and
+rattled the castanets, and cast about our wondering Western souls
+strange witcheries from which we shall never more go free. It was all
+as Oriental as a dream. The Sultana of the South lifted her gleaming
+coronet of domes and pinnacles above such a kingdom of idle, delicious
+mirth as has permanently unfitted us for considering it important to
+do our duty. Our hereditary bits of Plymouth Rock were melted up in
+that fervent heat. Right or wrong? "Where there is music, there can be
+no harm." True or false?
+
+     "In this world, my masters,
+       There's neither truth nor lie,
+     But all things take the color
+       Of the glass before the eye."
+
+Only six weeks, and yet we shall ever go homesick for Seville, for her
+palm trees and orange gardens, her narrow streets like lanes of
+shadow, her tiled and statued patios, with caged birds singing answer
+to the ripple of the fountain, the musical midnight cry of her
+_serenos_, "her black and burning eyes like beacons in the dark," her
+sighing serenaders, "lyrical mosquitoes," outside the grated window or
+beneath the balcony, her fragrances of rose and jessamine, her poetic
+sense of values. A homeless Andalusian, dinnerless and in rags, strums
+on his guitar, a necessity which he would not dream of selling for
+such a mere luxury as bread, and is happy. There is always sun to
+sleep in. There are always piquant faces and gliding forms to gaze
+after. What more does a mortal want? Exquisite Seville! No wonder that
+her exiled sons still sing, after years of "comfortable living" in
+foreign cities:--
+
+     "When I am missing, hunt me down
+       In Andalusia's purple light,
+     Where all the beauties are so brown,
+       And all the wits so bright."
+
+Yet the old Arabian enchantment casts a glamour which the Anglo-Saxon
+vision dimly recognizes as such and faintly strives against. To the
+clear survey all is not charm. Grace, mirth, and music, on the one
+hand, are offset by ignorance, suffering, and vice on the other. Many
+evil things were told us, and some ugly things we saw, but to look on
+Andalusia is to love her, even while realizing that to live with her
+would put that love to a very stringent test.
+
+The lordly Guadalquivir, for instance, so fair to see from the
+picture-making summit of the Giralda, as he lingers through his
+blooming Paradise, forgetful of the ocean, is not altogether goodly.
+
+     "Ay, ay, the black and stinging flies he breeds
+     To plague the decent body of mankind!"
+
+The Andalusian leisure was a perpetual delight to us. A typical
+Seville shop reaches far along the street front, with many open doors,
+and a counter running the full length. Here ladies sit in pairs and
+groups, never singly, to cheapen fans and mantillas, while the smiling
+salesmen, cigarette in hand, shrug and gesticulate and give back
+banter for banter as gayly as if it were all a holiday frolic. Scraps
+of the graceful bargaining would float to our ears.
+
+"Is the quality good?"
+
+"As good as God's blessing."
+
+Among the tempting wares of Seville are Albacete knives, with gorgeous
+handles of inlaid ebony, tortoise, or ivory. The peasant women of
+Andalusia so resent the charge of carrying these knives in their
+garters that the Seville gamin dodges offence by asking them in an
+unnecessarily loud voice if they carry garters in their knives. The
+irascible dames do not stand upon fine points of rhetoric, however,
+and when the small boy has delivered his shot, he does well to take to
+his heels. We once saw one of these sturdy women, while a line of
+soldiers, bristling with steel, was holding a street, seize a gallant
+son of Mars by the shoulder and swing him, amid the laughter of his
+comrades, out of her path as if he were a cabbage. Nobody knew how to
+stop her, and she trudged serenely on, her broad back to those
+helpless bayonets, down the forbidden way.
+
+The beggars of Seville are gentler than those of Ronda and Granada,
+but hardly less numerous. Mendicant figures are thick as Guadalquivir
+mosquitoes in my memory of Andalusia. Some of those pitiful children
+will haunt me till I die. There was a forlorn urchin, with filmy,
+frightful eyes, to be seen in all weathers crouching on one side of
+the road leading up to the Alhambra, so dull and dreary a little
+fellow that he hardly grasped the coppers when they were thrust into
+his weakly groping hands, and hardly stayed his monotonous formula of
+entreaty for his other monotonous formula of thanks. There was an
+idiot child in Seville--a mere lump of deformity--that would rush out
+upon the startled stranger with an inarticulate, fierce little yell,
+clutching at charity with a tiny, twisted claw. He seemed the very
+incarnation of childish woe and wrong. Almost every hand dived into
+pocket for him, and he was probably worth far more to his proprietors
+than his rival on the street, a crafty little girl, with the most
+lustrous eyes that painter ever dreamed. They were not blue nor gray,
+but a living light in which both those colors had been melted.
+
+The economists, who say so firmly that "nothing should ever be given
+to mendicant children," can hardly have had the experience of seeing
+Murillo's own cherubs, their wings hidden under the dirt, fluttering
+about the car windows at Andalusian stations. I have it still on my
+conscience that I occasionally gave away my comrade's share of our
+luncheon as well as my own. She was too young and too polite to
+reproach me, but too hungry to be comforted by the assurance that I
+reproached myself. Sometimes a foreign traveller, very sure of his
+Spanish, would attempt remonstrance with these small nuisances. I
+remember one kindly Teuton in particular. Commerce had claimed him for
+its own, but the predestined German professor shone out of his mild
+blue eyes. A ragamuffin had mounted the car steps to beg at the
+window, and Mein Herr delivered him such a lecture that the youngster
+clung to his perch, fascinated with astonishment at the novel
+doctrine, until the train was in alarmingly swift motion.
+
+  [Illustration: THE ALHAMBRA. HALL OF JUSTICE]
+
+"This is a very bad habit of thine. I told thee so a month ago."
+
+"Me, sir?"
+
+"Thee, boy. When I passed over this road last, thou wert begging at
+the windows, to my shame if not to thine. Tut, tut! Go thy ways. Look
+for work, work, work."
+
+"Work, sir?"
+
+"Work, boy. And when thou hast found it, love it, and do it with a
+will. Learn to read and write. Wash thy face and change thy customs,
+and when thou art richer than I, then will I give thee a _peseta_."
+
+Mendicancy is bred of ignorance, and in the seventeen and a half
+millions that make up the population of Spain, more than twelve
+millions do not read nor write.
+
+Seville sight-seeing is no brief matter. You must climb the Giralda,
+walk in the parks, view the yellowed fragments of the ancient city
+wall, visit the tobacco factory, shop in _Las Sierpes_, buy pottery in
+Triana, see the gypsy dances in the cafes, attend the Thursday
+rag-fair, do reverence to the Columbus manuscripts in the _Biblioteca
+Columbina_, look up the haunts of Don Juan, Figaro, Pedro the Cruel,
+and explore the curious "House of Pilate," which, tradition says, was
+built by a pilgrim noble after the Jerusalem pattern. You must lose
+your heart to the Alcazar, the Alhambra of Seville, a storied palace
+embowered in fountain-freshened gardens of palm and magnolia, oranges
+and cypresses, rose and myrtle, with shadowy arcades leading to marble
+baths and arabesqued pavilions. You must follow Murillo from gallery
+to gallery, from church to church, above all, from the _Hospital de la
+Caridad_, where hang six of his greatest compositions, to the _Museo
+Provincial_, where over a score of the Master's sacred works, lovely
+Virgins, longing saints, deep-eyed Christ-Childs, rain their sweet
+influence. And first, last, and always, there is the cathedral. We had
+been stunned at Burgos, blind to all save the Moorish features of
+Cordova, almost untouched by the cold splendors of Granada, but to
+Seville, as later to Toledo, we surrendered utterly. Beauty, mystery,
+sublimity--these are Seville cathedral. Five centuries have gone to
+the rearing and enriching of those solemn aisles and awful choir. The
+colossal structure, second in size only to St. Peter's, is a majesty
+before which Luther himself might well have trembled. Within a Spanish
+cathedral one begins to understand the mighty hold of Roman
+Catholicism on Spain. "I love," says Alarcon, whose jest and earnest
+are as closely twined as fibres of the same heart, "the clouds of
+incense which rise to the cupola of the Catholic temple, amid the
+harmonies of the holy organ. (For this I am not a Protestant.)" And
+elsewhere, writing of his childhood, he speaks of receiving in the
+cathedral of Guadix all his first impressions of artistic
+beauty,--beauty of architecture, music, painting, processional
+splendors, tissue of gold and silver, cunning embroideries and
+jewel-work, his first sense, in short, of poetry. And all these
+impressions were inextricably blent with his first yearnings of holy
+aspiration, his first passion of mystical devotion. But not even
+Seville cathedral could win over our full sympathy. Too heavy were the
+faces of the priests who "sang the gori gori," too selfish that wigged
+and jointed doll, "Our Lady of Kings," with her sixty gorgeous
+mantles, a few of which would have clothed all the poor of Andalusia.
+Who shall draw the line between faith and superstition?
+
+But let not the tourist suppose he can escape his tyrant Baedeker even
+at the top of the Giralda. There are excursions that must be taken to
+points of interest outside the city. Most imperative of all is the
+trip to the ruined Roman amphitheatre of Italica, guarded by the
+mighty names of Scipio Africanus, Trajan, Hadrian, and Theodosius. Off
+we start, a dozen strong, in a great, open carriage, all the
+women-folk with fans and veils and with flowers in the hair. We rattle
+past the cathedral, over the bridge to Triana and out into the
+sweet-breathed country, passing many a picturesque group on the
+road,--these two peasants, for example, with their yellow-handled
+knives thrust into scarlet girdles, tossing dice under a fig tree. Our
+meditations among the crumbling blocks of that savage play-house would
+perhaps interest the reader less than our luncheon. Such Andalusian
+dainties as we swallowed,--cold soups like melted salads, home-made
+fig marmalade, cinnamon pastes of which the gypsies know the secret,
+and sugared chestnuts overflowed by a marvellous syrup wherein could
+be detected flavors of lemon peel, orange peel, and a medley of
+spices! In that scene of ancient bloodshed, of the lion's wrath and
+the martyr's anguish, we ate, drank, and were merry, but our banquet
+tasted of ghosts.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+PASSION WEEK IN SEVILLE
+
+     "All that was gracious was bestowed by the Virgin, and she was
+     the giver of all that human creatures could ask for. God
+     frowned, while she smiled; God chastised, but she forgave;
+     this last notion was by no means a strange one. It is accepted
+     with almost absolute faith among the laboring classes of the
+     rural parts of Spain."--GALDOS: _Marianela_.
+
+
+Holy week throngs Seville to overflowing. The devout no longer scourge
+themselves in public, sprinkling the pavements with their blood, but
+Spaniards flock from all Andalusia, from Madrid, and even from the
+northern provinces to the sunny city on the storied Guadalquivir.
+Hotel charges run from twelve dollars a day up to incredible figures;
+a mere bed in a lodging house costs its three dollars, four dollars,
+or five dollars a night, and fortunate are those who enjoy the
+hospitality of a private home.
+
+The ceremonies opened Sunday morning with the procession of palms. We
+had been told by our cathedral guide the day before that this
+procession would take place at seven or half-past seven at the latest,
+and had asked the maid to call us at half-past six. As the chiming
+bells should have warned us, her knock was an hour tardy, but when,
+breakfastless and eager, we reached the cathedral a few minutes after
+eight, there was as yet no sign of a procession. Mass was being said
+in the Sagrario and in several chapels, and the morning light poured
+in through the rich-colored windows upon groups of kneeling figures
+before every shrine. The women wore black mantillas, for, although
+this most graceful of headdresses is losing credit on the fashionable
+promenades of Seville, and is almost never seen in open carriages,
+Holy Week demands it of all the faithful.
+
+We asked a white-robed young chorister when the procession would form.
+He answered with encouraging precision, "In twenty minutes." We roamed
+about for a half hour or more through those majestic spaces, beneath
+those soaring arches, aspiration wrought in stone, until by chance in
+that shifting multitude we came face to face with our guide of the day
+before. We asked how soon the procession would form. He said, "In
+twenty minutes," and we went home for coffee.
+
+When we returned the procession was streaming out of the cathedral
+into the street of the _Gran Capitan_. It was simple and all the more
+attractive for that simplicity. The colors of standards and vestments
+were mainly purple and gold, and the long, yellow fronds of palm,
+blown by the fresh breeze from the river, gleamed brighter than the
+sheen of candle or of mitre. Turning the corner, the procession, now
+facing the beautiful Giralda, entered by the ample Door of Pardon,
+still incrusted with its Arabic decorations, into the Court of
+Oranges, whose ripe fruit gave new touches of gold to the picture.
+
+Venders of palm were stationed in every sheltered corner, selling
+their wares, more than twice the height of a man, at fifteen cents
+the frond, while boys, darting about with armfuls of olive, were glad
+to take a cent the branch, and not have the best of their leafy store
+filched from them by sly old women, more intent, like the rest of us,
+on getting a blessing than deserving it.
+
+Through the multitude the glittering palms and purple robes swept on
+back into the cathedral, where the silent and remote archbishop, an
+image of gold in his splendid apparel, shed his benediction not only
+over the proud palms, but over every spray of "little gray leaves,"
+like those of Gethsemane. These blessed palms, sprinkled with holy
+water and wafting strange fragrances of incense, would be carried home
+and kept in myriad balconies all the year through, to protect the
+house from "the all-dreaded thunder-stone."
+
+That Sunday afternoon at five o'clock we were leaning out expectantly
+from our host's best balcony. With the constant Spanish courtesy, he
+had betaken himself, with the children of the household, to a less
+commanding balcony below, and his eldest son had considerately
+withdrawn, accompanied by his fiancee, to a mere speck of a balcony
+above. This left a dozen of us, Spanish, English, and American, to
+enjoy as good a view as the city afforded of the processional
+tableaux.
+
+The oblong _Plaza de la Constitucion_, the scene in days gone by of
+many a tournament, _auto de fe_, and bull-fight, is bounded on one
+side by the ornate Renaissance facade of the city hall, and on the
+other, in part, by the plain front of the court-house, before which
+criminals used to be done to death. Private dwellings, with their
+tiers of balconies, one of which had fallen to our happy lot, cross
+the wider end of the _plaza_, while the other opens into the brilliant
+street of _Las Sierpes_, too narrow for carriages, but boasting the
+gayest shop windows and merriest cafes of all the town.
+
+The _plaza_, always animated, fairly rippled with excitement this Palm
+Sunday afternoon. The grand stand, erected in front of the city hall,
+was filled, although many of the camp-chairs and benches placed in
+thick-set rows on the farther side of the line of march were not yet
+rented. Thursday and Friday are the days that draw the multitudes. The
+crowd was bright with uniforms, most conspicuous being the spruce
+white-edged, three-cornered hats and dark-blue, red-faced coats of the
+civil guard. Venders of peanuts, peanut candy, macaroons, caramels,
+and all manner of _dulces_ swung their baskets from one sweet-toothed
+Spaniard to another, while wisely the water-seller went in their wake,
+with the artistic yellow jar over his shoulder. One young pedler was
+doing a flourishing business in crabs, the customers receiving these
+delicacies in outstretched pocket handkerchiefs.
+
+Busy as our eyes were kept, we were able to lend ear to the
+explanations of our Spanish friends, who told us that the church
+dignitaries, after the procession of palms, took no official part in
+the shows of Passion Week, although many of the clergy belonged, as
+individuals, to the religious brotherhoods concerned. The church
+reserves its street displays for Corpus Christi. These brotherhoods,
+societies of ancient origin, and connected with some church or chapel,
+own dramatic properties often of great intrinsic value and
+considerable antiquity.
+
+For days before Holy Week one may see the members busy in the churches
+at the task of arranging groups of sacred figures, vested as richly as
+possible in garments of silk and velvet, with ornaments of jewels and
+gold, on platforms so heavy that twenty-five men, at the least, are
+needed to carry each. These litters are escorted through the principal
+streets and squares of the city by their respective societies, each
+brotherhood having its distinctive dress. It is customary for every
+_cofradia_ to present two pageants--the first in honor of Christ; the
+second, and more important, in honor of Mary, to whom chivalrous Spain
+has always rendered supreme homage; but sometimes the two tableaux are
+combined into one.
+
+After long watching and waiting we saw, far down _Las Sierpes_, the
+coming of the first procession. A line of police marched in advance to
+clear the road. Then appeared a loosely ordered company of fantastic
+figures in blue capes and blue peaked caps, absurdly high and reaching
+down to the shoulder, with holes cut for the eyes. From beneath the
+capes flowed white frocks, and the gloves and sandals were white.
+These "Nazarenes," who looked like a survival of the Carnival,
+conducted in silence a litter upon which was erected an image of the
+crucified Christ, with face uplifted as if in prayer.
+
+The pageant halted before the doors of the city hall to greet the
+Alcalde, who rose from his red velvet chair and bared his head. Men
+uncovered, and people stood all along the route, but acclamations were
+reserved for Our Lady of the Star. Her attendant troop was dressed
+like the preceding, with a star embroidered in white on the shoulder
+of the blue tunic. Her litter was ablaze with candles and laden with
+flowers; her outsweeping train was upborne by four little pages, and a
+brass band followed her with unceasing music.
+
+  [Illustration: FILLING THE WATER-JARS]
+
+Sunset colors were in the sky before the procession of the second
+brotherhood arrived. At last, far down the _Sierpes_, the dusk was
+dotted with the gleam of many tapers, and above these, most impressive
+in the dim distance, glimmered a white figure high upon the cross. As
+the pageant drew near, waves of incense rolled out upon the air. The
+crash of trumpets and deep boom of drums announced that Our Lady of
+the Angels was advancing upon the same platform with her Son, for
+music in these Passion Week processions is always a sign of the
+presence of the Virgin. The brothers of this retinue wore black, save
+that their peaked caps were purple.
+
+As twilight gathered, a company of strange dark shapes bore past in
+solemn hush the Most Holy Christ of the Waters. The Saviour hung upon
+the cross, an angel receiving in a golden cup the blood from his
+wounded side. Then her great banner of white and blue heralded the
+approach of Our Lady of the Utter Grief, who passed with her
+accustomed pomp of lights and music, holding to her eyes a
+handkerchief said to be of the most exquisite lace.
+
+Night had fallen when, at eight o'clock, a maid left on vigil called
+us all from the dinner table to see the beautiful procession of
+white-robed figures conducting Our Father Jesus of the Silence. The
+figure of Christ, resplendent in gold and purple, stood before Herod,
+whose mail-clad soldiers guarded the prisoner. The Roman costumes were
+so well copied, and all the postures and groupings so startlingly
+natural, that _vivas_ went up all along the crowded square. As the
+banner of the Virgin saluted the Alcalde, her attendants let fall
+their long white trains, which swept out quite six yards behind,
+reaching from one brother to the next and yielding a wonderfully fine
+effect in the slow march. Our Lady of the Bitterness, toward whom
+leaned the tender look of St. John, was robed in superb brocade, so
+precious that her train, which stood stiffly out behind, was guarded
+by a soldier with drawn sword.
+
+This closed the ceremonies of Palm Sunday, and the throng, catching
+one from another the blithe, sweet Andalusian melodies, went singing
+softly through the darkness on their various ways.
+
+After Palm Sunday a secular quiet fell upon Seville, not broken until
+Wednesday. At five o'clock this March afternoon it was still so hot
+that few people were rash enough to move about without the shelter of
+parasols. Sevillian priests, sombre-robed as they were, sauntered
+cheerily across the _plaza_ under sunshades of the gayest hues,
+orange, green, azure, red, and usually all at once, but the shamefaced
+Englishmen flapped up broad umbrellas of an uncompromising black.
+There was a breezy flutter of fans on the grand stand, the
+water-sellers had to fill their jars again and again, and the
+multitude of smokers, puffing at their paper cigarettes to cool
+themselves, really brought on a premature twilight.
+
+It was nearly seven before a score of gendarmes, marching abreast,
+cleared the way for the procession. Then appeared, in the usual guise,
+some twenty feet apart, two files of those strange shapes, with high,
+peaked caps, whose visors descended to the breast, slowly advancing,
+with an interval of about six feet from man to man. Their caps and
+frocks were black, but the long capes glowed a vivid red. They carried
+the customary lighted tapers, so tall that, when rested on the ground,
+they reach to the shoulder. Midway between the files walked a
+cross-bearer, followed by a Nazarene, who uplifted the standard of
+St. Andrew's Cross in red on a black ground. Bearers of other insignia
+of the order preceded the great litter, on which, under a golden palm
+tree, was represented by life-size effigies the arrest of Christ among
+His Disciples, St. Andrew having the foremost place. The second
+pageant presented by this brotherhood was accompanied by bevies of
+white-robed boys swinging censers and chanting anthems. Then came, in
+effulgence of light, the Most Holy Virgin, escorted, as if she were
+the earthly Queen of Spain, by a detachment of the Civil Guard, whose
+white trimmings and gold belts gleamed in the candle rays.
+
+The remaining three _cofradias_ that had part in the Wednesday
+ceremonies exhibited but one pageant each. A troop in black and gold
+conducted a Calvary, with Mary Mother and Mary Magdalene both kneeling
+at the foot of the cross, robed in the richest velvet. Figures in
+white, with stripes of red, came after, with a yet more costly
+Calvary. The well-carved crucifix rose from a gilded mound, and Our
+Mother of Healing wore a gold crown of exceeding price. But the third
+Calvary, all wrought in black and gold, the colors of the brotherhood,
+which were repeated in standard and costume, won the plaudits of the
+evening. Here Longinus, the Roman centurion, mounted on a spirited
+horse, was in the act of piercing with his lance the Saviour's side.
+Amid _vivas_ and _bravos_ this Passion picture passed, like its
+predecessors, in clouds of incense and peals of solemn music.
+
+On Thursday the wearing of black was almost universal. We rummaged our
+shawl straps for some poor equivalent of the Spanish black silks and
+black mantillas. The Civil Guard was more superb than ever in
+full-dress uniform, with red vests and white trousers. No sound of
+wheels was suffered within the city limits, and late arrivals had to
+commit their luggage to a porter and follow him on foot.
+
+At three o'clock, in the Sagrario of the cathedral, the archbishop
+washed the feet of thirteen old paupers, who sat in two confronting
+rows, looking neat as wax and happy as honey, each dressed in a
+brand-new suit, with a long-fringed damask towel over his shoulder.
+Their old blood had been warmed by the archbishop's own wine, for they
+had just come from luncheon in the ecclesiastical palace, where they
+had been served by the highest dignitaries of the church and the
+proudest nobles of the city. The function of foot washing was not
+taken too seriously. The fat canons smiled good-humoredly on their
+archbishop, as his group of attendants lowered him to his knees and
+lifted him again before every old man in turn, and the acolytes nudged
+one another with boyish mirth over the rheumatic, embarrassed efforts
+of the beneficiaries to put on their stockings.
+
+A Franciscan friar mounted the pulpit, however, and turned the
+congregation, thickly sprinkled with English visitors, serious enough
+by a succinct and fiery sermon, saying, in a nutshell, that love is
+the glory of the religious life, but is the fruit only of Catholicism,
+for nowhere, though one searches the world over, can there be found a
+work of mercy--hospital, asylum, endowed school, charity of any sort
+or kind--due to Protestantism. And the old paupers, glancing down at
+their new suits and feeling the glow of their banquet, were glad to
+the tips of their purified toes that their lots had been cast in
+Catholic Spain.
+
+By six o'clock the squares and streets along the processional route
+were thronged again, although our Spanish friends assured us that the
+numbers were less than usual. The war feeling kept the Americans and,
+to some extent, the English away, while many of the Spanish of the
+provinces, who were accustomed to take their annual outing in Seville
+during the _Semana Santa_, were held at home this year by poverty or
+mourning.
+
+The first two pageants of the afternoon, those of the bull-fighters
+and the cigarette-makers, were awaited with especial eagerness. For
+these Seville brotherhoods, more than thirty in all, still maintain
+something of the mediaeval structure of the guilds. Just as in England
+and France, from the eleventh to the fifteenth century, or
+thereabouts, organized companies of craftsmen used to present in
+Passion Week successive scenes from the life of Christ, these Spanish
+_cofradias_ to-day maintain such general lines of division in
+performing a similar function. Yet any Catholic Sevillian may, if he
+chooses, secure admission to any of these societies, irrespective of
+his occupation. The young _caballero_ who chanced to be our prime
+source of information this Thursday afternoon was himself of a
+prominent family, a protege of the archbishop, and a student of law,
+yet he belonged to the brotherhood of Fruit Venders, although his
+devotion seemed a little languid, and he had excused himself on this
+occasion from the long march in the breathless Nazarene garb.
+
+Not all the brothers feel bound to perform this penitential service
+every Passion Week, and, indeed, not all the brotherhoods. Several of
+the most elaborate pageants were missing from the ranks this year.
+Such omissions are not as disastrous to the processional effect as
+they would have been in England, for example, some six centuries ago.
+Then the gilded and tapestried platforms, set on wheels, which the
+processions conducted through the streets, were really stages, and at
+the halting places the best actors of each guild played upon its
+particular platform an appointed scene from the sacred drama. The
+sequence of events was duly observed, and the spectator, standing in
+market-place or at street corner, while one theatre after another
+rolled by him, saw acted out with much finery of wardrobe and
+ingenuity of machinery, with tragic dialogue and declamation, relieved
+by comic interludes, all the Bible story, from the revolt of Lucifer
+to the Day of Judgment. But modern Spain, abandoning the acting and
+recitation and substituting puppets for living men, has let slip the
+dramatic sequence, so that a few pageants less means only so much
+abatement in the general splendor of the spectacle.
+
+The bull-fighters of Andalusia are eminently religious and are said,
+likewise, to be remarkable for their domestic virtues. All their manly
+fury is launched against the bull, and they have only gentleness left
+for wives and children. I have heard no better argument for the bull
+ring. At all events, these _toreros_, marching soberly in black, with
+yellow belts, escorted with well-ordered solemnity an image of the
+crucified Christ, followed by a queenly effigy of Our Lady of Refuge,
+erect behind terraced ranks of candles on a flower-strewn litter,
+under a costly canopy of black velvet embroidered with gold. The
+cigarette-makers came after with their two pageants, Christ fastened
+to the pillar, and Our Lady of Victory.
+
+It was, as usual, the second upon which the main expense had been
+lavished. A great company of acolytes, richly clad and swinging
+censers of pure silver, went in advance of the Virgin, and three bands
+of music followed her with continuous acclaim, while a regiment of
+soldiers attended as a guard of honor. Immediately in front of the
+_paso_ went, surrounded by officers and aides, General Ochando, his
+head uncovered and his breast glittering with decorations, for the
+young king of Spain is a member of this _cofradia_, and had sent the
+distinguished military governor of the Provinces, who has a palace in
+Seville, to represent him. Especial enthusiasm was called out by this
+image of Mary, for the cigarette-makers had just presented her with a
+new mantle at a cost of nine thousand dollars. The brothers were
+willingly aided by the seven thousand women who work in the immense
+tobacco factory, the average contribution of each donor being two
+_centimos_ (two-fifths of a cent) a week during the preceding year. No
+wonder that the Virgin seemed to stand proudly upon her silvered
+pedestal, her gorgeous new mantle streaming out until it almost
+touched the head of a white-vested girl who walked barefoot close
+behind the litter, so fulfilling a vow made in extremity of illness.
+
+Black and white were the banners and costumes of the third procession,
+very effective through the deepening dusk. Their leading pageant was a
+Gethsemane, famous for the beauty of the carving. Christ is
+represented in prayer before an angel, who bears in one hand the cross
+and in the other the cup of bitterness, while Peter, James, and John
+are sleeping near their Master. These Passion groups are, with a few
+exceptions of still earlier date, works of the seventeenth century,
+the glorious period of Spanish art, the day of Murillo and Velazquez.
+The most and best are from the hand of the Sevillian Montanes, of
+chief repute in the Spanish school of polychrome sculpture, but this
+Gethsemane was carved by his imitator, Roldan, whose daughter, La
+Roldana, is accredited with the figure of the angel and with the
+reliefs that adorn the pedestal.
+
+Another Virgin, who, like all the rest, seemed a scintillation of gold
+and jewels, swept by, and a new troop of Nazarenes, this time in
+purple and white, passed with two august pageants,--the Descent from
+the Cross and the Fifth Anguish of Mary. Then came two files of
+ash-colored figures, who marshalled, between their rows of starry
+tapers, each taper bending toward its opposite, a vivid presentation
+of the Crowning with Thorns; and, after this, their Mary of the
+Valley, noted for the gracious sweetness of her countenance. This
+image is held to be one of Montanes's masterpieces in wood-carving.
+
+Five processions had now passed, with their two pageants each, and the
+hour was late, but we could not leave the balcony for anything so
+commonplace as dinner. Far down the street of _Las Sierpes_ waved a
+river of lights, announcing the advent of the most ancient of all the
+Sevillian brotherhoods, Jesus of the Passion. The crowded _plaza_ rose
+in reverence as the Crucifixion _paso_ was borne by, and Our Lady of
+Mercy, too magnificent for her name, was greeted with rapturous
+outcries.
+
+  [Illustration: OFF FOR THE WAR]
+
+Just how and when and where something in the way of food was taken, I
+hardly know, but as this, the last of the Thursday evening
+processions, passed in music out of the _plaza_, a few of us made
+speed by a deserted side street to the cathedral. We were too late for
+the _Miserere_, which was just closing in that surprising hubbub,
+the stamping of feet and beating of canes and chairs against the
+floor, by which Spanish piety is wont to "punish Judas." But we took
+our station near by the entrance to the Royal Chapel, wherein had been
+erected the grand Holy Week monument, in white and gold, shaped like a
+temple, and shining with innumerable silver lamps and taper lights.
+Within this monument the Host, commonly spoken of in Spain as _Su
+Majestad_, had been solemnly placed the night before, much as the
+mediaeval church used to lay the crucifix, with requiems, under the
+High Altar on Good Friday, and joyously bring it forth again Easter
+morning. But Spanish Catholicism is strangely indifferent to dates,
+burying the Host on Wednesday and celebrating the Resurrection
+Saturday.
+
+All day long the Royal Chapel had been filled with relays upon relays
+of kneeling worshippers, and the hush there had been so profound that
+the hum of the tourist-haunted nave and the tumult of the streets
+seemed faint and foreign to the hearing, like sounds a universe away.
+Before this chapel entrance all the pageants, as they were borne in
+silence through the cathedral, paused and did homage to the Host.
+Having outstripped the procession, we had arrived in season to witness
+three of these salutations. The Nazarenes, in passing, fell upon their
+knees in the light of the great, gleaming monument, and each of the
+heavy platforms was slowly swung about so that it faced this symbol of
+Christ's sepulchre.
+
+Yet there was something besides devotion in the cathedral. As the
+crowd pressed close, we felt, more than once, a fumbling at our
+pockets, and the little artist lost her purse. The rest of us
+comforted her by saying over and over that she ought to have known
+better than to bring it, and by severally relating how cautious we had
+been on our own accounts.
+
+It was hard upon eleven when we returned to the house, but the streets
+were all alive with people. I went to the balcony at midnight, and
+again at the stroke of one, and both times looked down upon a _plaza_
+crossed and recrossed in all directions by talkative, eager groups.
+Many of these restless promenaders had been able to get no lodgings,
+and were walking to keep warm. The pressure upon the hotels was so
+great that one desperate stranger this Thursday night paid twenty
+dollars for a cot from ten o'clock till two, and private hospitality
+was taxed to a degree that nothing but Spanish courtesy and
+good-nature could ever have endured. In the house which harbored us,
+for instance, we were all fitted in as compactly as the pieces of a
+puzzle, when the unexpected friends began to arrive.
+
+On Wednesday there appeared from the far north a man and wife,
+acquaintances of ten years back. Our host and hostess greeted this
+surprise party with Andalusian sunshine in their faces, and yielded up
+their own room. Thursday morning there walked gayly in one of the
+son's university classmates from Madrid. Don Pepe embraced him like a
+brother, and surrendered the sofa, which was all he had left to give.
+And this Thursday midnight, as a crowning touch, three more chums of
+college days came clattering at the bell. Their welcome was as cordial
+as if the household were pining for society. The tired maids, laughing
+gleefully over the predicament, contributed their own mattresses and
+pillows, and made up beds on the study floor, where Don Pepe camped
+out with his comrades, to rise with a headache that lasted for days
+after.
+
+By two o'clock I had taken my station on the balcony for an all-night
+vigil. The most of the family bore me company for the cogent reason
+that they had nowhere to sleep, but the other guests of the house held
+out for only an hour or two, and then went blinking to their repose.
+My memory of the night is strangely divided between the dreamlike,
+unearthly pomps and splendors streaming through the square below and
+the kindly, cheery people who came and went about me. The senora,
+still fresh and charming, although she has wept the deaths of fourteen
+out of her nineteen children, was merrily relating, with weary head
+against her husband's shoulder, her almost insuperable difficulties in
+the way of furnishing her table. The milkman roundly declared that if
+she wanted a double quantity of the precious fluid (and goat's milk at
+that), she must make it up with water. There was no meat to be had in
+the Catholic city during these holy days, and even her baker had
+forsaken his oven and gone off to see the sights. And the
+black-bearded senor, who, like his wife, had not been in bed for forty
+odd hours, laughed at her and comforted her, puffed harder than ever
+at his cigarette, and roguishly quoted the saying, "He whom God loves
+has a house in Seville."
+
+By two o'clock the seats on the grand stand were filling fast, the
+_plaza_ hummed with excitement, the balconies resounded with song and
+laughter, and the strong electric lights in front of the city hall
+cast a hard, white brilliance over all the scene. The frying of
+_calientes_, an Andalusian version of twisted doughnuts, was in savory
+progress here and there on the outskirts of the throng, and our ever
+thoughtful hostess did not fail to keep her balcony well supplied
+with these crisp dainties.
+
+The twinkling of taper lights, so warm and yellow under those pallid
+globes of electric glare, appeared while people were still hurrying to
+their places; but hundreds upon hundreds of black and gold figures had
+paced by before the first of their _pasos_ came into view. For these
+processions of the dawn, _de madrugada_, call out great numbers of the
+devout, who would thus keep the last watch with their Lord. The clocks
+struck three as the leading pageant, a very ancient image of Christ,
+bearing a silver-mounted cross of tortoise-shell, halted before the
+Alcalde. A white banner wrought with gold heralded the Virgin, who
+rose, in glistening attire, from a golden lake of lights.
+
+The wealthy _cofradia_ of San Lorenzo followed in their costly habits
+of black velvet. They, too, conducted a pageant of Christ bearing His
+cross, one of the most beautiful groups of Montanes, the pedestal
+adorned with angels in relief. To the Christ, falling on the Via
+Dolorosa, the brotherhood, with the usual disregard of historic
+propriety, had given a royal mantle of ermine, embroidered with gold
+and pearls. A large company of black-clad women, carrying candles,
+walked behind the _paso_, on their penitential march of some eight
+hours. Many of them were ladies delicately bred, whose diamonds
+sparkled on the breast of the approaching Mary. For the Sevillian
+senoras are accustomed to lend their most valuable gems to their
+favorite Virgins for the _Semana Santa_, and San Lorenzo's Lady of
+Grief is said to have worn this night the worth of millions. She
+passed amid a great attendant throng, in such clouds of incense that
+the eye could barely catch the shimmer of her silver pedestal, the
+gleam of the golden broideries that almost hid the velvet of her
+mantle, and the flashes and jets of light that shot from the
+incredible treasure of jewels that she wore.
+
+The third troop of Nazarenes, robed in white and violet, bore for
+banner a white cross upon a violet ground. Their Christ-pageant
+pictured Pilate in his judgment seat in the act of condemning the Son
+of God to death. Jesus, guarded by armed soldiers, calmly confronts
+the troubled judge, at whose knee wait two little pages with a basin
+of water and towels.
+
+And now came one of the most gorgeous features of the Holy Week
+processions--a legion of Roman soldiers, attired as never Roman
+soldiers were, in gold greaves and crimson tunics, with towering
+snow-white plumes. But a splendid show they made as, marching to drum
+and fife, they filed down _Las Sierpes_ and stretched "in never ending
+line" across the _plaza_. Our most Holy Mary of Hope, who followed,
+wearing a fair white tunic and a gold-embroidered mantle of green, the
+color of the hopeful season, drowned the memory of that stern military
+music in a silver concert of flutes.
+
+After this sumptuous display, the fourth band of Nazarenes, gliding
+through the _plaza_ between night and day in their garb of black and
+white, could arouse but little enthusiasm, although their Crucifixion
+was one of the most artistic, and their Lady of the Presentation had
+her poorest garment of fine satin.
+
+A pearly lustre was stealing through the sky, and the chill in the air
+was thinning the rows of spectators on the grand stand, when
+mysterious, dim-white shapes, like ghosts, bore by in utter silence a
+pageant of Christ fainting beneath the burden of the cross. But soon
+the clamor of drums and fifes ushered in another long array of Roman
+soldiers, a rainbow host in red and pink and blue, crimson plumes
+alternating with white, and golden shields with silver. The electric
+lights, globed high overhead, took one look at this fantastic
+cavalcade and went out with a gasp.
+
+It was now clear day. Canaries began to sing in their cages, and
+parrots to scream for chocolate. Sleepy-eyed servant-maids appeared on
+the balconies, and market women, leading green-laden donkeys, peered
+forth from the side streets into the square. The morning light made
+havoc with the glamour of the pageants. Something frank and practical
+in the sunshine stripped those candle-lighted litters of their
+dignity. Busy people dodged through the procession lines, and one
+Nazarene after another might be seen slipping out of the ranks and
+hurrying awkwardly, in his cumbersome dress, with the half-burned
+taper under his arm, to the refuge of his own mosquito-netting and
+orange tree. The tired crowd grew critical and irreverent, and openly
+railed upon the Virgin of this ghostly _cofradia_ because her velvet
+mantle was comparatively plain. "Bah! how poor it is! Are we to sit
+here all the night for such stingy shows as that?"
+
+But the last brotherhood in the _madrugada_ processions had, with
+their white frocks and blue caps and capes, suited themselves to the
+colors of the day. The stumbling children, blind with sleep, whom
+fathers were already leading off the square, turned back for a drowsy
+gaze at the resplendent tunic of the Christ in the Via Dolorosa
+_paso_, a tunic claimed to be the richest of all the garments worn by
+the effigies of Jesus. So lovely was this trooping company in their
+tints of sky and cloud, bearing a great blue banner and a shining
+ivory cross, that they brought order and decorum with them.
+
+The division that escorted the Virgin marched on with especial
+steadiness, not a peaked cap drooping, nor a boyish acolyte faltering
+under the weight of his tall gilded censer. This most Holy Mary of
+Anguish, whose litter and canopy were all of white and gold, swept by
+in triumphal peals of music while the clocks were striking six. In
+some mental confusion, I said good night to the people I left on the
+balcony, and good morning to the people I met on the stairs, and ate
+my breakfast before I went to bed.
+
+It seemed as if human nature could bear no more; the eyes ached with
+seeing, and phantasmal processions went sweeping through our dreams;
+yet Friday afternoon at five o'clock found our balcony, like all the
+rest, full to overflowing. Some twenty thousand people were massed in
+the _plaza_, and it was estimated that over one hundred thousand
+waited along the line of march. Our Spanish entertainers, still
+unrefreshed by any chance for sleep, were as gayly and punctiliously
+attentive to their guests as ever, from our gallant host, who
+presented the ladies with fragrant bouquets of roses and orange
+blossoms, to the little pet of the household, who at the most
+engrossing moments in the ceremonial would slip away from her
+privileged stand on a footstool against the railing to summon any
+member of the party who might be missing the spectacle.
+
+The Spanish colors floated out from city hall and court-house, but the
+great concourse below was all in hues of mourning, the black mantillas
+often falling over dresses of plain purple. The senoritas in the
+balconies had substituted knots of black ribbon for the customary
+flowers in the hair. Jet trimmings abounded, and the waving fans were
+black.
+
+The coming procession, we were assured on every hand, would be the
+most solemn of all and the most sumptuous. The habits of the Nazarenes
+would be of satin, silk, and velvet. The images of Christ and the
+Virgin would be attired with all possible magnificence of damask and
+ermine, gold and jewels. Brotherhood would vie with brotherhood in
+splendor, and one prodigy of luxury would succeed another.
+
+The leading company, whose far-trailing robes carpeted the street with
+fine black velvet, stood for the olive industry. This _cofradia_ had
+been poor and unimportant for generations, but in recent years a
+devoted brother, a manufacturer of olive packing-barrels, had poured
+forth his accumulated fortune upon the society, with the result that
+their _pasos_ are now second in ostentation and expense to none. The
+donor, long since too feeble to bear his taper in the line, lives in
+humble obscurity, but his old heart swells with joy this great day of
+the year when he sees, following the elaborate carving of the
+Crucifixion, the dazzling chariot of Our Lady of Solitude. Upon her
+mantle, which enjoys the proud distinction of being the very costliest
+of all, he has lavished twenty thousand dollars. Longer by a yard than
+any of the others, it was yet unable to find place for all the gold
+which the zealous Nazarene had given for it, and the residue was
+bestowed about the pedestal and canopy. The _paso_ is so heavy with
+gold that it requires a double force of men to carry it; but each of
+these hidden bearers, getting air as best he can through a silver
+breathing-tube, is sure of a dollar for his recompense as well as two
+glasses of good wine.
+
+  [Illustration: GRANADA. LOOKING TOWARD THE DARRO]
+
+All the adornment of the litter is of pure gold, and such wealth of
+jewels glinted from the Virgin's glorious raiment that a triple force
+of Civil Guards was detailed for her protection. Her ardent worshipper
+has denied her nothing. The very columns that uphold her canopy are
+exquisite in carving, and it is his yearly pride to see that her
+clouds of incense are the thickest, and her train of musicians the
+most extended, in all that glittering line.
+
+The second _cofradia_ exhibited but a single pageant, relying for
+effect upon the beauty of the sculpture. The Mater Dolorosa was bowed
+in her desolation at the foot of the Holy Rood, from which hung only
+the white folds of the winding-sheet.
+
+But the third brotherhood had bethought themselves to introduce,
+between their austere Crucifixion and their shining image of Mary,
+another preposterous parade of Roman soldiers--flower-colored,
+plume-tossing, butterfly creatures far too bright, if not too good,
+"for human nature's daily food." One whiff from Caesar's iron breast
+would have blown them away like soap bubbles.
+
+The silversmiths trooped by in graver, more majestic state, their
+purple velvet habits girded with gold cords. Upon a gilded pedestal,
+wrought with high relief, was seen their Christ, bowed beneath a
+precious cross of tortoise-shell and silver. Our Lady of Expectation
+gleamed with gold and gems, and this haughty brotherhood received a
+full meed of applause.
+
+Black from top to toe was the fifth procession. Their Jesus of the Via
+Dolorosa bent beneath a sombre cross of ebony embossed with gold, but
+the blithe young voices of the countless choir-boys, singing like
+birds before the dawn, ushered in a sun-bright image of Mary.
+
+But something was amiss with the processional order. Where were the
+stately ranks of Montserrat? Alas and alas! Scarcely had this
+aristocratic _cofradia_ gone a hundred paces from their chapel when,
+in the narrow street of Murillo, a leaning candle touched the lace
+skirt of the Virgin and instantly all the front of the litter was in
+flames. It was hardly a matter of minutes. From the balconies above
+were dashed down pailfuls and pitcherfuls of water. The Nazarenes,
+wrenching away the blue velvet mantle wondrously embroidered in gold
+with castles, lions, and _fleurs de lis_, succeeded in rescuing a
+ragged half of it, and the Civil Guards, drawing their swords and
+forming a circle about the smoking litter, saved the jewels from
+robbery. Perhaps the other _paso_, too, Christ of the Conversion of
+the Penitent Thief, had some protecting influence. But in all this ado
+about her finery, the poor Virgin's face, beloved for its winsome
+look, was completely burned away. In sorry plight Our Lady of
+Montserrat was hurried back to her chapel, and the swift rumor of the
+disaster sent a superstitious trouble through the city.
+
+But more and more solemnly the taper-bearing troops of Nazarenes
+poured by with the culminating pictures of the Passion. These last
+three _cofradias_ presented each a single pageant. An escort in dark
+purple conducted an impressive Descent from the Cross. The Virgin, her
+crowned head bowed in anguish, clasps the drooping body of Christ to
+her heart, while John and Mary Magdalene look on in hopeless sorrow.
+Figures in black and white came after, with their sixteenth-century
+carving, Christ of the Dying Breath, beneath the cross standing Our
+Lady of Tears. And last of all, in slow, sad movement, their white
+trains streaming like a line of light along the stone-paved way,
+passed the second brotherhood of San Lorenzo, bearing the Most Blessed
+Virgin in her Solitude. The gold of her mantle seemed one with the
+gold of the candle rays, and, for many a silent watcher, those
+gliding, gleaming, spiritlike forms will move forever down a shining
+path in memory. So closed the Holy Week processions.
+
+"How sorry I am," said our host, with the Andalusian twinkle in his
+eye. "It is almost eleven o'clock. Ladies and gentlemen, will you
+please walk out to dinner?"
+
+On Saturday morning we went early to the cathedral for the closing
+rite. The Sagrario was thronged. Some of the senoras had brought low
+folding chairs with them, others sat upon the floor, but most of that
+innumerable congregation knelt or stood. We were all facing the great
+purple veil which concealed the high altar, with Roldan's retablo of
+the Descent from the Cross. There was an hour or more of expectation,
+during which rosaries slipped through the fingers of many a veiled
+nun, and the soft murmur of prayer came from strong men as well as
+from pale-faced women. Suddenly, while a shock of thunder crashed from
+the organ, hidden ministrants sharply drew on hidden cords, the purple
+curtain parted in the midst, and the two folds rolled asunder,
+revealing the high altar, with its carving of the accomplished
+Passion. The organ poured forth jubilees of victory, all the bells of
+the cathedral pealed together, _Gloria in Excelsis_ soared in choral
+chant, and amid the awe-stricken multitudes fallen to their knees, _Su
+Majestad_ was borne in priestly procession from the tomb in the Royal
+Chapel to the candles and incense which awaited at the high altar that
+triumphal coming.
+
+Easter Sunday was celebrated by a bull-fight.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+TRACES OF THE INQUISITION
+
+     "I live a life more great than I.
+     The life I hope is life so high,
+     I die because I cannot die."
+                                --_Santa Teresa de Jesus._
+
+
+All Spaniards venerate the name of _Isabel la Catolica_, nor is the
+impressionable De Amicis the only foreigner who has trembled and wept
+at Granada before the enshrined memorials, jewel box, mirror, missal,
+and crown, of her royal womanhood. She is a precious figure in Spain's
+sunset revery--a saint beneath a conquering standard, a silken lady in
+a soldier's tent. Yet this peerless queen, merciful, magnanimous,
+devout, "the shield of the innocent," caring supremely for the glory
+of God and the good of her country, gave consent, albeit reluctant, to
+the establishment of the Inquisition, Christianity's chief scandal and
+Spain's most fatal blight. So ironic were the stars of Isabel.
+
+The Inquisition, it is true, originated in Italy early in the
+thirteenth century and followed the flight of some of the Albigenses
+into Aragon, but its work in Spain had been comparatively slight and
+merciful until the "Catholic Kings," in the interests of religious
+reform, for the purification of the national faith, let its horrors
+loose. Wherever one moves in Spain the sickening breath of the _auto
+de fe_ lingers in the air. In such a square, we read, was once a
+mighty bonfire of Jews; beneath our feet, we are told, is a mass of
+human bones and cinders. This sunshiny Seville, with her parks and
+patios, her palms and orange groves, a city seemingly fashioned only
+for love and song, had her army of nearly twoscore thousand martyrs,
+who, dressed in the hateful _San Benitos_, yellow coats painted with
+flames and devils, were burned to death here in our gay _Plaza de la
+Constitucion_, then known as the _Plaza de San Francisco_, and in the
+_Quemadero_ beyond the walls. As one mingles with some outdoor throng,
+all intent on pageant, dance, or other spectacle, one shudders to
+remember that just such dark, eager faces were ringed about the
+agonies of those heroic victims. For there are two sides to the
+Spanish Inquisition. If Spaniards were the inquisitors, Spaniards,
+too, were the dauntless sufferers. The sombre gaze of the torturer was
+met, as steel meets iron, by the unflinching eye of the tortured. But
+"the unimaginable touch of Time" transforms all tragedy to beauty, and
+red poppies, blowing on the grassy plain of the _Quemadero_, translate
+into poetry to-day that tale of blazing fagots.
+
+Sometimes the victims were of foreign blood. Hakluyt has preserved the
+simple narratives of two English sailors, who were brought by their
+Spanish captors from the Indies as a sacrifice to the Holy House of
+Seville. One, a happy-go-lucky fellow, Miles Phillips, who had been
+too well acquainted in Mexico with the dungeons of the Inquisition,
+slipped over the ship's side at San Lucar, made his way to shore, and
+boldly went to Seville, where he lived a hidden life as a silk-weaver,
+until he found his chance to steal away and board a Devon
+merchantman. The other, Job Hortop, added to his two years of Mexican
+imprisonment two more years in Seville. Then "they brought us out in
+procession, every one of us having a candle in his hand, and the coat
+with S. Andrew's cross on our backs; they brought us up on an high
+scaffold, that was set up in the place of S. Francis, which is in the
+chief street of Seville; there they set us down upon benches, every
+one in his degree, and against us on another scaffold sate all the
+Judges and the Clergy on their benches. The people wondered, and gazed
+on us, some pitying our case, others said, burn those heretics. When
+we had sat there two hours, we had a sermon made to us, after which
+one called Bresinia, secretary to the Inquisition, went up into the
+pulpit with the process, and called Robert Barret, ship-master, and
+John Gilbert, whom two Familiars of the Inquisition brought from the
+scaffold before the Judges, where the secretary read the sentence,
+which was that they should be burnt, and so they returned to the
+scaffold, and were burnt.
+
+"Then I, Job Hortop, and John Bone, were called, and brought to the
+place, as before, when we heard our sentence, which was, that we
+should go to the Galleys, and there to row at the oar's end ten years,
+and then to be brought back to the Inquisition House, to have the coat
+with S. Andrew's cross put on our backs, and from thence to go to the
+everlasting prison remediless.
+
+"I with the rest were sent to the Galleys, where we were chained four
+and four together.... Hunger, thirst, cold, and stripes we lacked
+none, till our several times expired, and after the time of twelve
+years, for I served two years above my sentence, I was sent back to
+the Inquisition House in Seville, and there having put on the coat
+with S. Andrew's cross, I was sent to the everlasting prison
+remediless, where I wore the coat four years, and then upon great suit
+I had it taken off for fifty duckets, which Hernando de Soria,
+treasurer of the king's mint, lent me, whom I was to serve for it as a
+drudge seven years."
+
+But this victim, too, escaped in a fly-boat at last, and on a certain
+Christmas Eve, about the time when people in London were beginning to
+like the comedies of a certain poor player, one Will Shakespeare, did
+Job Hortop, Powder-maker and Gunner, walk quietly, after twenty-three
+years of martyrdom, into the village of Redcliffe, where he had been a
+ruddy English boy with no dream of the day when he should be "prest
+forth" by Sir John Hawkins and compelled, sore against his will, to
+embark for the West Indian adventure.
+
+Religious liberty now exists under the laws of Spain, although the
+administration of those laws leaves much to be desired. In three old
+conventual churches of Seville gather her three Protestant
+congregations. Beneath the pavements of two of these heretic
+strongholds old inquisitors sleep what uneasy sleep they may, while
+one of the Protestant pastors, formerly a Catholic priest, has quietly
+collected and stored in his church-study numerous mementos of the Holy
+Office. Here may be seen two of those rare copies of the 1602 revision
+of the Spanish Bible, by Cipriano de Valera, whom the Inquisition
+could burn only in effigy, since the translator, who had printed his
+book in Amsterdam, did not return to accompany the Familiars to the
+_Quemadero_. Here are old books with horrible woodcuts of the
+torments, and time-stained manuscripts, several bearing the seal and
+signatures of the "Catholic Kings," these last so ill written that it
+is hard to tell the name of Ferdinand from that of Isabella. Among
+these are royal commissions, or licenses, granted to individual
+inquisitors, records of _autos de fe_, and wills of rich inquisitors,
+the sources of whose wealth would hardly court a strict examination.
+Here, too, is the standard of the Holy Office, the very banner borne
+through Seville in those grim processions. Its white silk is saffroned
+now, but the strange seal of the Inquisition, a bleeding Christ upon
+the cross, is clearly blazoned in the centre, while the four corners
+show the seal of San Domingo.
+
+The Inquisition prison, the dreaded Holy House of Seville, is used as
+a factory at present, and heresy no longer secures admission there;
+but I looked up at its grated windows, and then, with a secret shiver,
+down on the ground, where the Spanish pastor of antiquarian tastes was
+marking out with his cane the directions of the far-branching
+subterranean cells. We slipped into an outer court of the _fabrica_,
+where the two gentlemen, effectively aided by a couple of sturdy lads,
+pried up and flung back a sullen door in the pavement and invited me
+to grope my darkling way down some twenty crumbling steps, overgrown
+with a treacherous green mould. There was no refusing, in face of the
+cloud of witnesses whose groans these stones had heard, and I took a
+heart-breaking plunge into the honeycomb of chill, foul-smelling,
+horror-haunted dungeons, whose roofs let fall a constant drip of water
+and from whose black recesses I was the unwilling means of liberating
+a choice variety of insects.
+
+"But even yet one cannot call one's self a Protestant in Spain, you
+know," said an English diplomat to us in another city of Andalusia.
+"It's not socially respectable. Spanish Protestants are the very scum
+of the earth--illiterate, dirty, boorish. You couldn't associate with
+them for a minute."
+
+"But that Spanish pastor who called on us yesterday was entirely a
+gentleman," we remonstrated. "He has studied for seven years in
+Switzerland and Scotland, seems more open-minded and intelligent than
+most Spaniards we have met, and was so courteous and graceful in his
+bearing--not to mention the whiteness of his linen--and so
+entertaining in his talk, that the Spanish ladies in the room
+chorussed his praises, after he had bowed himself out, and declared
+him most delightful company."
+
+The diplomat twirled his mustache and smiled, as only diplomats can.
+"And you owned up that he was a Protestant? And their faces darkened
+as if a storm-cloud had blown over from the Sierras?"
+
+"Precisely so," we admitted, "and after that the best they could say
+for him was that they never would have thought it."
+
+The diplomat claimed that he had made his point, while we protested
+that the incident only went to show how unreasonable was the prejudice
+of whose existence throughout Spain there can be no manner of doubt.
+
+Perez Galdos, for instance, the most popular novelist of the day,
+stated to an American friend, who repeated it to us, that he frankly
+could not afford to introduce the figure of a Protestant into one of
+his stories. "It would not only kill that book," he said, "but it
+would hurt the sale of everything I have in the market and embarrass
+all my future undertakings. I should simply be risking the loss of my
+reading public." And yet Senor Galdos is the author of "Dona
+Perfecta," that artistic study of the conflict between new ideas and
+old in Spain. In this significant novel, a civil engineer, a man of
+thirty, whose scientific education in the large cities of Seville and
+Madrid has been supplemented by study in Germany and England, comes to
+one of those mediaeval towns, or corpses of towns, that rise so
+spectre-like from the ash-colored plains of Old Castile. Crumbling
+walls and blackened towers jealously guard the life of ages since,
+that feudal life of high and low, pride of station, pride of animal
+prowess, pride of holiness, pride of idleness, pride of ignorance; the
+life of superstition, of family exclusiveness resulting in
+intermarriage to the point of insanity; of that fierce local bigotry,
+peculiarly Spanish, which dreads and hates all foreign intrusion. The
+streets, devoid of business activity, swarm with vigorous mendicants,
+who have no better shift, when times grow hard, than to deform the
+children who are born to them like kittens in their mud-walled hovels.
+The casino, where half the town smokes half its time away, hums with
+malicious gossip. The university languidly pursues the studies of
+Latin, scholastic divinity, Church history, and all that savors of the
+past. Under the gray vault of the cathedral women kneel before the
+image of the Christ Child, bringing Him a new pair of embroidered
+pantalets and entreating of His rosy simplicity what they would not
+dare ask from the "Ecce Homo"; or they kiss the satin-slippered feet
+of the miracle-working Virgin and vow her, if their prayer is granted,
+seven bright new swords of the finest Toledo workmanship to pierce her
+patient heart. The man of scientific training, fresh from the modern
+world, is brought into sharp collision with this dim old town. High
+principles and essential, spiritual Christianity count him for
+nothing; he is speedily denounced as no better than "a murderer, an
+atheist, or a Protestant," and his strong young life is actually
+beaten out by that blind, terrible force of Spanish fanaticism. So far
+the novelist can go; such a hero he dares paint; but not a Protestant.
+
+The notions of Protestantism prevalent among the people, not the
+peasants only, but the gentry, are little short of ludicrous. A
+black-eyed lady of Cadiz was amazed at our assertion that Protestants
+prayed. A Madrid senorita asked us, in friendly confidence, if it were
+true that Protestants "denied Christ and spat on the Virgin." The
+popular identification of Protestantism with all that is impious and
+criminal we encountered as early as our second afternoon in Spain. We
+were visiting, in the picturesque fishing-hamlet of Pasajes, a gaunt
+Basque church, where the old dame who served as caretaker showed us a
+waxen image of a sleeping girl, said, not without probability, to have
+been brought from Rome. Beneath the figure is a burial stone, whose
+inscription would locate it in the Catacombs. When friends of ours
+were at Pasajes some three years before, the grandam's story ran that
+the image was the likeness of a Christian martyr, slain by her pagan
+father at Rome in the time of the Imperial persecutions; but the tale
+glibly recited to us was this: "_Ay de mi!_ The poor young lady! Her
+father was a Protestant, and, of course, hated religion, and when his
+daughter, so beautiful, was on her way to her first communion, he hid
+behind a corner, with an axe, and of a sudden jumped out on her and
+struck her dead."
+
+It is such prejudice that goes far toward justifying the maintenance
+by foreign societies of Protestant churches in Spain. They cannot
+stand alone, in face of all this hostility, and yet the country has
+need of them. No European nation can nowadays be shut in to any single
+channel of religious life, and doubtless, apart from all questions of
+creed, there are Spanish temperaments to which the simpler _culto_ is
+more natural than the elaborate ritual of Rome; but, waiving
+discussion as to the relative gifts and graces of these two great
+divisions of Christ's fellowship, the new seems essential, not for
+itself alone, but as a stimulus and corrective to the old. Time may
+make it clear that a purified Roman Catholicism is better suited to
+the Latin races in general than plainer rites and less symbolic
+worship, but there are heavy counts against the Roman Catholic Church
+as it exists in Spain. The private lives of the clergy, as a class,
+have been so open to reproach that even the finger-games and nonsense
+songs of the little children, learned with their baby lispings, mock
+priestly immorality. The Church, steward of untold wealth, has endowed
+many charities, but the fundamental trust of knowledge it has most
+sluggishly and inadequately dispensed. Santiago de Compostela, for
+example, is a very nest of religious foundations. Thirty-six Christian
+fraternities are gathered there, yet we were told on good authority
+that not one peasant in a hundred of those within hearing of
+Santiago's fivescore and fourteen holy bells can read and write. In
+matters of State, the Church has utterly lost the allegiance of the
+progressive party and, to a large extent, the political confidence of
+the nation. As Spaniards study the history of their country, they
+realize more and more that her colossal mistakes and misfortunes have
+been due in large measure to Jesuit and Dominical policy--to the
+father confessor in the royal chamber, the inquisitor in shadow of
+the throne. With reference to the success of the Church in promoting
+spiritual life, a beautiful young nun, her eyes glistening like happy
+stars, assured us that there was more devotion in Catholic Spain than
+in all the rest of Christendom. A scientist of repute, his voice
+choking with grief and wrath, declared to us that the fetters of
+superstition had become hopelessly riveted, during these ages of
+Church control, on the Spanish mind. But call it what you will,
+devotion or superstition, and admitting, as the tourist must, that it
+is a most conspicuous and impressive feature of Spanish life, there
+are nevertheless thousands of Spaniards, especially the younger men,
+over whom it has lost sway. These are the _indiferentes_, many of whom
+might find, as some have found, in a fresh presentation of
+Christianity, the Godward impetus which they no longer gain from the
+Church of Rome.
+
+The most cheerful _indiferente_ I encountered in Spain was a whimsical
+old philosopher, well on his way to the nineties, yet so brisk and
+hardy as almost to vie with Borrow's Portuguese dame whose hair "was
+becoming gray" after a life of one hundred and ten years. His hair,
+indeed, is white, and extreme age has written its deforming marks on
+face and figure, yet he runs up the steepest stairs, reads the finest
+print, fills his days with a close succession of labors and
+amusements, and scoffs at religion as airily as if Death had passed
+him on the crowded way and would never turn back to look for him
+again.
+
+At our first meeting he offered, with characteristic kindness, to come
+and read Spanish with me. As I had invaded Spain for the express
+purpose of studying the Spanish drama, I took a volume of Calderon
+from my trunk and hopefully awaited his visit. But it was a matter of
+several visits before I could open my Calderon. The jaunty old
+cavalier arrived, brimming over with chat and anecdote, and when at
+last I hinted at the reading, produced with pride from his inner coat
+pocket a little, paper-bound _geografia_ that he had written himself
+for use in the Spanish schools, and proceeded to regale me with
+extracts from its pages. I looked severely at the little artist, whose
+eyes were dancing in a demure face, and endeavored to profit by this
+unexpected course of instruction. The author chuckled much over his
+sagacity in having arranged the subject-matter of his book in
+paragraphs and not by question and answer. In the latter case, he
+explained, the children would learn the answers without reading the
+questions, a process bound to result in geographical confusion. The
+little volume, as is the wont of school books in other lands, tended
+to give to its students a disproportionate idea of the importance of
+their own country. Spain and her colonies were treated in seventy
+pages, Great Britain and her colonies in three, France in four, while
+America, from Greenland to Patagonia, was handled as a single entity,
+one figure each, and those absurdly small, being set for "her
+population, army, and navy." The _Confederacion de los Estados Unidos_
+was barely mentioned as one of the five "States" of North America.
+
+But the only feature of his book for which the author felt called upon
+to apologize, was the catering to popular superstition, as in stating,
+for instance, that in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela is
+adored the veritable body of St. James. He cast a quizzical glance at
+me in reading this, and then laughed himself purple in the face. "One
+has to say these things in this country," he gasped, still breathless
+from his mirth. "Drops of water must run with the stream. If only
+there were a shrine where people might be cured of being fools!"
+
+Quick-witted as the old gentleman was, he presently detected a lack of
+geographical enthusiasm in his audience. His literary vanity smarted
+for a moment and then he fell to laughing, declaring that ladies
+always had a distaste for useful information. "That old wife of mine"
+could not abide arithmetic. He digressed into an explanation of the
+Roman notation, making it quite clear to us wherein IX differs from
+XI, and with antiquated courtliness of phrase, even for Spain, asked
+our gracious permission to cause himself the pain of departure.
+
+He often reappeared. His wiry arm, reached through the Moorish bars of
+the outer door, would give its own peculiarly energetic twitch to the
+bell chain looped within. A maid, leaning over the railing of an upper
+story, would call down the challenge inherited from good old fighting
+times, "Who comes here?" And his thin voice would chirp the Andalusian
+answer, "Peace."
+
+On his second visit he fairly gurgled with pleasure as he placed
+another volume with his name on the title-page before me. Since I did
+not incline to solid reading, behold him equally ready to supply me
+with the sweets of literature! This, too, was a school book, a
+somewhat haphazard collection of Castilian poems, with brief
+biographies of the authors represented. Its novel educational feature
+was the printing of each poem in a different type. The result was a
+little startling to the eye, but the editor was doubtless right in
+claiming that it made the reading harder for the children, and so
+developed their powers through exercise. Here, again, he was ashamed
+of the fact that fully two-thirds of the poems were religious.
+
+"But what can one do in this country?" he asked testily. "All the
+reading books have to be like that. Bah! But we will not read these
+pious verses. The others are much more entertaining."
+
+Determined not to wound him again by any lack of interest in books of
+his own shaping, we sat patiently through page after page of that
+juvenile school reader; but when, with a pamphlet on spelling and
+punctuation, we had completed the list of his works, I once more
+called his attention to Calderon.
+
+This struck him as a capital joke. He had never read Calderon himself,
+he had hardly heard of Calderon, and that a foreigner, a woman at
+that, should insist on reading Calderon, was funny enough to make his
+old sides ache. There were modern authors in plenty who must certainly
+write much better than an out-of-date fellow like that. He had books
+that he could lend me. He had friends from whom he could borrow. But
+nothing would please me but Calderon! Why under the fanciful moon
+should I set my heart on Calderon?
+
+"_Bueno!_" he cried at last, whisking the mirthful tears from his
+eyes. "_Vamos a ver!_ Let us go on and see!"
+
+We opened the classic volume at the Catholic Faust-drama, _El Magico
+Prodigioso_, and began to read, soon passing into the great argument
+between Cipriano and Lucifer as to the nature of God. Our guest,
+sensitive to all impressions as he was, became immediately amazed and
+delighted.
+
+"But this is lofty!" he exclaimed. "This is sublime! Good, Cipriano,
+good! Now you have him! What will the devil say to that? _Vamos a
+ver!_"
+
+At the close of that tremendous scene he shut the book, fairly panting
+with excitement. But nevertheless there was a twinkle in his eye. He
+knew now why I craved this Calderon. He was evidently a religious
+writer, and women were all religious. It was an amiable feminine
+weakness, like the aversion to geography and arithmetic. But his
+indulgent chivalry rose to the occasion. Having learned my taste, such
+as it was, he would gratify it to the utmost.
+
+"If you would only come and see my library!" he proposed. "I have
+exactly the book there that will please you. I have not read it
+myself, but it is very large, with most beautiful pictures, and it
+tells these old stories about Lucifer and all that. I am sure it is
+just what you would like. Will you not do your humble servant the
+honor of coming to-morrow afternoon?"
+
+I ran over in my mind our engagements for the morrow. He mistook the
+cause of my hesitation.
+
+"Indeed you need not be afraid to come," he urged. "My house is as
+safe as a convent. That old wife of mine, too, will be sure to be
+somewhere about. And you can bring the silent senorita with you."
+
+I was aware of a slight convulsion in "the silent senorita." She could
+speak all the Spanish she chose, but she found the eccentricities of
+this visitor so disconcerting that she affected ignorance, and he
+supposed her mute presence at our interviews to be purely in deference
+to the Spanish proprieties.
+
+My youthful chaperon, much elated by this reversal of our natural
+positions, duly attended me the next day to our friend's surprisingly
+elegant home. He was forever crying poverty and telling us, with the
+tears that came to his old age as easily as the laughter, how the
+hardships of life had beaten out of him every ambition save hope to
+"gain the bread" until his death, but we found him luxuriously housed,
+and I was afterward informed that he was one of the richest men in the
+city.
+
+He ran with that wonderful sprightliness of his across the marbled
+court to meet us, and ceremoniously conducted us up the handsome
+staircase. He led us through all "our house," typically Andalusian,
+with statues and urns of blossoming trees set in the open patios, with
+Moorish arches and bright-hued tiles, shaded balconies, tapestried and
+curtained beds, _braseros_, and rocking-chairs, and in every room
+images and paintings of the saints, at which he made irreverent
+grimaces.
+
+There were family portraits, too, before three of which he broke down
+into weeping--the son who had died in the prime of manhood, the
+daughter lost in her fair maidenhood, and, where the stormy sobs shook
+him from head to foot, the Benjamin of his heart, a clear-eyed young
+officer who had fallen in the Cuban war. The tears were still
+streaming down the quivering old face when we turned silently
+away--for what word of comfort would Americans dare to speak?--and
+followed him to his study.
+
+He was of extravagant repute in his locality as a scholar and a man of
+letters, and his study was what a study ought to be,--well furnished
+with desk, pigeon-holes, all the tools of literary labor, and walled
+with books. Among these was an encyclopaedia in which, to his frank
+astonishment, he found an article of fifteen pages on Calderon. The
+great volume we had come to see lay open on a reading stand. It was a
+Spanish Bible, with the Dore illustrations. I wanted to look at the
+title-page, but our eager host, proud to exhibit and explain, tossed
+over the leaves so fast that I had no opportunity.
+
+As he was racing through the Psalms, impatient because of their dearth
+of pictures, my eye was caught by the familiar passage, "As the hart
+panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after Thee, O God."
+
+With prompt curiosity, he popped down his white head, in its
+close-fitting skullcap, to see what I was noting, and instantly went
+off into an immoderate gust of laughter.
+
+"_Muy bien!_" he wheezed, as soon as he could recover anything like a
+voice. "But that is very cleverly put. He was a witty fellow who wrote
+that. Just so! Just so! The deer goes to the water because he means to
+get something for himself, and that is why the young men go into the
+priesthood, and why the women go to mass. It's all selfishness, is
+religion. But how well he says it!"
+
+"No, no!" I exclaimed, for once startled into protest. "He is saying
+that religion is the impulse of thirst."
+
+The incorrigible old worldling took this for another jest, and, as in
+gallantry bound, laughed harder at my sally than at poor King David's.
+
+"Excellent! Perfect! So it is! So it is! Religion is the impulse to
+fill one's own stomach. Just what I have always said! 'As the hart
+panteth after the water brooks'--ho, ho! I must try to remember that."
+
+His enthusiasm for Calderon soon kindled to a flame. As the plot
+thickened he ceased to be of the slightest help in any difficulties
+that the text might offer. In vain I would beseech him to clear up
+some troublesome passage.
+
+"Oh, never mind!" he would say, vexed at the interruption. "They
+didn't write very well in those old days. And I want to know which of
+her three suitors Justina took. Three at once! What a situation!
+_Vamos a ver!_ I hope it will be Cipriano."
+
+As the spell of Calderon's imagination passed more and more strongly
+upon him, this most sympathetic of readers quite accepted, for the
+time being, the poet's Catholic point of view, trembling for Cipriano
+and almost choking with agitated joy when Justina, calling in her
+extremity upon the name of God, put Lucifer to flight. But after we
+had read the drama to the end, through its final scene of triumphant
+martyrdom, he sat silent for several minutes, and then shook his head.
+
+"Not true; it is not true. There is no devil but the evil passions of
+humanity. And as for Cipriano's definition of God--it is good, yes; it
+is great, yes; but who can shut God into a definition? One might as
+well try to scoop up the ocean in a cocoanut shell. No! All religions
+are human fictions. We have come, nobody knows whence or why, into
+this paltry, foolish, sordid life, for most of us only a fight to gain
+the bread, and afterward--_Bueno!_ I am on the brink of the jump, and
+the priests have not frightened me yet. Afterward? _Vamos a ver!_"
+
+This man had heard of Protestantism simply as an ignorant notion of
+the lower classes. For the typical Spanish Protestant of to-day
+presents a striking contrast to the typical Spanish Protestant of the
+Reformation. When heresy first entered the Peninsula, it gained almost
+no footing among the common people, who supposed Luther to be another
+sort of devil and the Protestants a new variety of Jews or Moors; but
+the rank and learning of Spain, the youthful nobility, illustrious
+preachers and writers, officers and favorites of the Court, even men
+and women in whose veins flowed the blood royal, welcomed with ardor
+the wave that was surging over Europe. The very eminence of these
+heretics sealed their doom. The Inquisition could not miss such
+shining marks. The Holy Office did its work with abominable
+thoroughness. Apart from the countless multitudes whom it did to death
+in dungeon and torture-chamber, it burned more than thirty thousand of
+the most valuable citizens of Spain and drove forth from the Peninsula
+some three millions of Jews and Moors. The _autos de fe_ were
+festivals. Among the wedding pomps for the French bride of Philip II,
+a girl thirteen years old, was one of these horrible spectacles at
+Toledo. The holiday fires of Seville and Valladolid drank the most
+precious blood of Andalusia and Castile. Though Saragossa had a mind
+to Huguenot fuel; though Pamplona, on one festal day, heaped up a
+holocaust of ten thousand Jews; though Granada, Murcia, and Valencia
+whetted their cruel piety on the Moors who had made the southern
+provinces a garden of delight; yet in all these cities, as in Toledo,
+Logrono, and the rest, the Spanish stock itself was drained of its
+finest and most highly cultivated intelligence, its sincerest
+conscience, purest valor, its most original and independent thought.
+Spain has been paying the penalty ever since. Her history from Philip
+II has been a judgment day.
+
+No root of the Lutheran heresy survived in the Peninsula. The new
+Protestantism does not spring from the old. The blood of the Spanish
+martyrs was not the seed of the Spanish church. The Protestant of
+to-day is far removed, socially and politically, from the courtiers,
+marquises, knights of Santiago--those gallant cavaliers who were
+stripped upon the scaffold of their honorable decorations and clad in
+the yellow robe of infamy. This nineteenth-century Protestant may be a
+lawyer or a journalist, but by exception. Ordinarily he is a petty
+farmer, a small shop-keeper, mechanic, miner, day-laborer, of humble
+calling and of lowly life. In politics he is almost surely a
+republican. When the monarchy was overthrown, in '68, Protestantism
+was, for the moment, in favor, and hundreds of the triumphant party
+hastened to profess the reformed faith. With the return of a Roman
+Catholic court and perhaps upon the discovery that the new
+Christianity, too, has its burden and its yoke, many fell away.
+
+Yet Protestantism has now an assured footing in Spain. Protestant
+churches may be found in most of the important cities. There are some
+fifty foreign preachers and teachers in the field, aided by nearly
+eighty Spanish pastors and colporteurs. The number of Spanish
+communicants is between three and four thousand, the church attendance
+is reckoned at nine thousand, and there are five thousand Spanish
+children in the Protestant schools. Several centres have been
+established for the sale of Bibles and Protestant books, and six or
+seven Protestant periodicals are published and circulated. In answer
+to the continual Romish taunt that Protestantism is a war of sects, a
+house divided against itself, a Protestant Union was organized at
+Madrid in the spring of 1899. All, save two, of the fifteen missions,
+supported by various societies of Great Britain, Germany,
+Switzerland, and America, joined hands in this. Only the Plymouth
+Brethren and the Church of England held aloof.
+
+  [Illustration: A MILKMAN OF GRANADA]
+
+The Inquisition exists no longer. Religious liberty, even in Spain,
+has the support of law. Yet still the Spanish Protestant, this poor,
+plain Protestant of to-day, as obscure as those Galilean fishermen
+whom the Master called, is harassed by petty persecutions. Children
+sing insulting verses after him in the street, especially that pious
+ditty:--
+
+     "Get away with you, Protestants,
+         Out of our Catholic Spain,
+     That the Sacred Heart, the Sacred Heart,
+         May love our land again."
+
+He is jealously watched on the passing of "His Majesty the Wafer" and
+pursued with mud and spittings if he fails to do it homage. College
+boys rub charcoal over the front of his chapel and stone his
+schoolroom windows; work is refused him; promotion denied him; his
+rent is higher than his neighbor's, yet not his neighbor's family nor
+his landlord's cross his threshold. If scorn can burn, he feels the
+_auto de fe_.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+AN ANDALUSIAN TYPE
+
+     "'True,' quoth Sancho: 'but I have heard say there are more
+     friars in heaven than knights-errant.' 'It may be so,' replied
+     Don Quixote, 'because their number is much greater than that
+     of knights-errant.' 'And yet,' quoth Sancho, 'there are
+     abundance of the errant sort.' 'Abundance indeed,' answered
+     Don Quixote, 'but few who deserve the name of
+     knights.'"--CERVANTES: _Don Quixote_.
+
+
+It might have been in Seville, though it was not, that I met my most
+_simpatico_ example of the Andalusian. He was of old Sierra stock,
+merry as the sunshine and gracious as the shadows. Huge of build and
+black as the blackest, he was as gentle as a great Newfoundland dog,
+until some flying spark of a word set the dark fires blazing in his
+eyes. This was no infrequent occurrence, for the travelling
+Englishman, as frank as he is patriotic, cannot comprehend the zest
+with which well-to-do Spaniards, even in time of war, escape military
+service by a money payment. Not the height and girth of our young
+giant, nor his cordial courtesy and winning playfulness, shielded him
+from the blunt question, "Why didn't you go over to Cuba, a great
+fellow like you, and fight for your flag?" His usual rejoinder was the
+eloquent Southern shrug of the shoulder, twist of the eyebrow, and
+waving lift of the hand, with the not easily answerable words, "And to
+what good?" But now and then the query came from such a source or was
+delivered with so keen a thrust that his guarded feeling outleaped
+reserve. The sarcasms and mockeries that then surged from him in a
+bitter torrent were directed chiefly against Spain, although the
+American eagle rarely went scot-free. "Ah, yes, it is a fine fowl,
+that! He has the far-seeing eye; he has the philanthropic beak and
+claw!" But it was the golden lion of Spain against which his harshest
+gibes were hurled--"_un animal domestico_, that does not bite."
+
+No one of the party was a tithe as outspoken as our Spaniard himself
+in condemning the errors of the Spanish campaign or censuring the
+methods of the Spanish Government. If he turned angrily toward a
+criticism from a foreigner, it was only, in the second instant, to
+catch it up like a ball and toss it himself from one hand to the
+other--like a ball that burns the fingers.
+
+Such wrath can easily be the seamy side of love, and, in a way, the
+man's national pride was measured by his national shame; but always
+over these outbursts there brooded that something hopelessly resigned,
+drearily fatalistic, which seems to vitiate the Spanish indignation
+for any purposes of practical reform. To suggestions of sympathy he
+responded with a pathetic weariness of manner, this handsome young
+Hercules, so radiant with the joy of life, who, in his normal mood,
+sprinkled mirth and mischief from him as a big dog shakes off water
+drops.
+
+"What can one do? I am a Spaniard. I say it to myself a hundred times
+a day. I am a Spaniard, and I wish my country were worth the fighting
+for, worth the dying for. But is it? Is it worth the toothache? God
+knows the truth, and let it rest there. Oh, you need not tell me of
+its past. It was once the most glorious of nations. Spaniards were
+lords of the West. But--ah, I know, I know--Spain has never learned
+how to rule her colonies. He who sows brambles reaps thorns. The
+Church, too, has done much harm in Spain--not more harm than another.
+I am a Catholic, but as I see it, priests differ from other men only
+in this--in the cafe sit some bad men and many good, and in the choir
+kneel some good priests and many bad. The devil lurks behind the
+cross. But Spain will never give up her Church. It is burned in. You
+are a heretic, and like my figure, do you not? It is burned in. There
+is no hope for Spain but to sink her deep under the earth, and build a
+new Spain on top. And why do I not work for that new Spain? How may a
+man work? There is talk enough in Spain as it is. Most Spaniards talk
+and do no more. They go to the cafes and, when they have emptied their
+cups, they draw figures on the tables and they talk. That is all. The
+new Spain will never come. What should it be? Oh, I know better what
+it should not be. It should have no king. A republic--that is right.
+Perhaps not a republic precisely like America. It may be," and the
+melancholy sarcasm of the tone deepened, "there could be found
+something even better. But Spain will not find it. Spain will find
+nothing.
+
+"What can one do? I know Spain too well. Now, hear! I am acquainted
+with a _caballero_. I have been his friend ten years and more. But he
+has had the luck, not I. For, first, when we were at the university,
+he had a fortune left to him. He became betrothed to a senorita whom
+he loved better than his eyelashes. He travelled for his pleasure to
+Monte Carlo, and played his fortune all away in one week. He came back
+to Madrid, and went to one of the Ministers, to whom his father had in
+former days done a great service. My friend said: 'I am to marry. The
+lady expects to share the fortune which I have lost. My position is
+not honorable. I must have an opening, a chance to redeem myself, or I
+shall stand disgraced before her.' The Minister sent him to one of the
+Cuban custom-houses, and in two years he returned with great wealth.
+On his wedding journey he spent a night at Monte Carlo and gambled it
+away to the last _peseta_. A stranger had to lend him money to get
+home with his bride. Was he not ashamed and troubled? Ashamed? I do
+not know. But troubled? Yes, for he wanted to play longer. Every one
+is as God has made him, and very often worse. Again he went to the
+Minister, whose heart was softer than a ripe fig and who found him a
+post in the Philippines. This time he made a fortune much quicker than
+before, knowing better how to do unjustly, but a few weeks before the
+war he came home and lost it all again at Monte Carlo. And now he is
+horribly vexed, for it is another Minister, and, besides, there are no
+colonies to enrich him any more.
+
+"What use to care for Spain? No, no, no, no, no! Spain is a good
+country to leave--that is all. And you do well to travel in Spain.
+American ladies like change, and Spain is not America. Here you are
+not only in a different land, but in a different century. You can say,
+when you come out, that you have been journeying a hundred years ago."
+
+On another occasion one of those pleasant individuals who would, as
+the Spaniards say, "talk of a rope in the house of one who had been
+hanged," saw fit to entertain the dinner-table with anecdotes of
+Spanish cruelty.
+
+"But Spaniards are not cruel," protested our young blackamoor in his
+softest voice an hour later, stroking with one great hand the head of
+a child who nestled against his knee. "What did that English fellow
+mean? Why should any one think that Spaniards are cruel?"
+
+I ran over in mind a few of the frightful stories of Las Casas, that
+good Dominican friar who would not hold his peace when he saw the
+braining of Indian babies and roasting of Indian chiefs. I remembered
+how De Soto tossed his captives to the bloodhounds, and what
+atrocities were wrought in the tranquil realm of the Incas; I recalled
+the horrors of the Inquisition, but these things were of the past. So
+I answered, "Perhaps the bull-fights have done something to give
+foreigners that impression."
+
+Unlike many educated Spaniards who would rather attend the bull-fights
+than defend them, he squared his shoulders for an oration.
+
+"The bull-fights? But why? Bull-fights are not cruel--not more cruel
+than other sports in other countries. I have been told of prize-fights
+in America. I beg your pardon. I see by your look that you do not like
+them. And, in truth, I do not altogether like the bull-fights. The
+horses! They are blindfolded, and it is short, but I have seen--ah,
+yes! You would not wish to hear what I have seen. I have been often
+sorry for the horses. Yet some pain is necessary in everything, is it
+not? In nature, perhaps? In society, perhaps? Even, if you will pardon
+the illustration, in the deliverance of the Filipinos from Spanish
+tyranny?"
+
+I briefly suggested that there was no element of necessity in
+bull-fights.
+
+The waving hand apologized gently for dissent.
+
+"But, yes! The bulls are killed for food. That is what foreigners do
+not seem to understand. It may be ugly, but it is universal. To supply
+men with meat, to feed great cities with the flesh of beasts--it is
+not pleasant to think of that too closely. But how to help it? Do you
+not have slaughter-houses in America? These also we have in Spain. I
+have visited one. It seemed to me much worse than the bull-ring.
+Faugh! I did not like it. The cattle stood trembling, one behind
+another, waiting for the blow. I should not like to die like that. I
+would rather die in the wrath of battle like a _toro bravo_. Oh, it is
+not cruel. Do not think it. For these bulls feel no fear. It is fear
+that degrades. They may feel pain, but I doubt--I doubt. They feel the
+wildness of anger, and they charge and charge again until the
+_estocada_, the death stab. That is not so bad a way to die, is it?
+Any man would choose it rather than to stand in terror, bound and
+helpless, hearing the others fall under the axe and seeing his turn
+draw near. Yes, yes! The bull-ring rather than the slaughter-house for
+me!"
+
+This was a novel view of the case to the auditor, who ignominiously
+shifted her ground.
+
+"But what country uses the slaughter-house as a spectacle and a sport?
+It is one thing to take life for food, and another to make a holiday
+of the death struggle."
+
+Again that deprecatory waving of the hands.
+
+"I beg your pardon. I do not know how it is in America. Perhaps"
+[circumflex accent] "all is merciful and noble there. But when I was
+in England I saw something of the chase and of the autumn shooting. I
+saw a poor little fox hunted to the death. It was not for food. The
+dogs tore him. I saw wounded birds left in the cover to die. It was
+too much trouble to gather them all up. And the deer? Does not the
+stag suffer more in his flight than the bull in his struggle? I
+believe it. To run and run and run, always growing weaker, while the
+chase comes nearer--that is an agony. The rage of combat has no terror
+in it. I would not die like the deer, hunted down by packs of dogs and
+men--and ladies. I would die like the bull, hearing the cheers of the
+multitude."
+
+The big fellow bent over the baby that was dropping to sleep against
+his knee, and slipped the drowsy little body, deftly and tenderly, to
+a sofa. Such sweetness flooded the soft black eyes, as they were
+lifted from the child, that it was hard to imagine them sparkling with
+savage delight over the bloody scenes of the _corrida de toros_. I
+asked impulsively how long it was since he had seen a bull-fight.
+Brows and hands and shoulders were swift to express their appreciation
+of the bearings of the question, and the voice became very music in
+courteous acquiescence.
+
+"Ah, it is four years. Of course, I was much younger then. Yes, yes!
+It might not please me now. _Quien sabe?_ And yet--I beg your
+pardon--I think I shall go next Sunday in Madrid, on my way to Paris.
+It is so weary in London on the Sundays. It was always colder Sunday,
+and there was not even a cafe. There was nowhere to go. There was
+nothing to do. Why is that good? At the bull-fight one feels the joy
+of life. Is it more religious to sit dull and dismal by the fire? I
+had no use for the churches. Walking is not amusing, unless the sun
+shines and there is something gay to see. I do not like tea, and I do
+not care for reading. Spaniards like to laugh and be merry, and when
+there is nothing to laugh for, life is a heaviness. There is no
+laughter in a London Sunday. I hope Paris will be better, though I
+believe there are no bull-fights there as yet. You are not pleased
+with me, but let me tell you why I love the _corrida_. It is not for
+the horses, you remember. I have sometimes looked away. But why should
+I pity the bulls, when they are mad with battle? They do not pity
+themselves. They are glad in their fury, and I am glad in seeing it.
+But I am more glad in the activity and daring of the men. When they
+run risks, that is what makes me cheer. It is not that I would have
+them hurt. I am proud to find men brave. And I am excited and eager to
+see if they escape. Do you not understand? If you would go
+yourself--just once--no? Is it always no? Then let me tell you what is
+the best of all. It is to stand near the entrance and watch the people
+pass in, all dressed in their holiday clothes, and all with holiday
+faces. It is good and beautiful to see them--especially the ladies."
+
+The most attractive qualities of our young Spaniard were his mirth and
+courtesy. His merriment was so spontaneous and so buoyant that his
+grace of manner, always tempered to time and place and person, became
+the more apparent. His humor dwelt, nevertheless, in the borderlands
+of irony, and it was conceivable that the rubs of later life might
+enrich its pungency at the cost of its kindliness. He was excellent at
+games (not sports), especially the game of courtliness (not
+helpfulness). The letter was not posted, the message slipped his
+memory, the errand was done amiss, but his apologies were poetry. He
+made a pretty play of the slightest social intercourse. We would open
+our Baedeker at the map which we had already, in crossing Spain,
+unfolded some hundred times. He would spring as lightly to his feet as
+if his mighty bulk were made of feathers, and stand, half bowing,
+arching his eyebrows in appeal, spreading out his hands in offer of
+assistance, but not venturing to approach them toward the book until
+it was definitely tendered him. Then he would receive it with
+elaborate delicacy of touch, unfold the creased sheet with a score of
+varied little flourishes, and restore the volume with a whole fresh
+series of gesticulatory airs and graces. The next instant he would
+peep up from under his black lashes to detect the alloy of amusement
+in our gratitude, and drop his face flat upon the table in a boyish
+bubble of laughter, saying:--
+
+"Ah! But you think we Spaniards make much of little things. It is
+true. We are best at what is least useful."
+
+Light-hearted Andalusian though he was, he had full share of the
+energy and enterprise of young manhood. Like the dons of long ago, he
+was equipping himself for the great Western adventure. Despite his
+Spanish wrath against America, she had for him a persistent
+fascination. All his ambitions were bent on a business career in New
+York, the El Dorado of his imagination. But it was no longer, at the
+end of the nineteenth century, a case of leaping aboard a galleon and
+waving a Toledo blade in air. The commercial career demands, so he
+fancied, that its knight go forth armed cap-a-pie in the commercial
+tongues. Thus he had spent four years of his youth and half of his
+patrimony in London and Berlin, and now, after this hasty visit home,
+purposed to go to Paris, for a year or two of French. This unsettled
+life was little to his liking, but beyond gleamed the vision of a Wall
+Street fortune.
+
+Yet even now, at the outset of his task, a frequent lethargy would
+steal over his young vigor. It was curious to see, when the March wind
+blew chill or the French verbs waxed crabbed, how all his bearing lost
+its beauty. There was a central dignity that did not lapse, but the
+brightness and effectiveness were gone. His big body drooped and
+looked lumpish. His comely face was clouded by an animal sluggishness
+of expression. Foreign grimaces twisted across it, and something very
+like a grunt issued from beneath his cherished first mustache. His
+sarcasm became a little savage. He would sit for hours in a brooding
+fit, and, when an inexorable call to action came, obey it with a look
+of dreary patience older than his years. It was as if something
+inherent in his nature, independent of his will, weighed upon him and
+dragged him down. The Spain at which he gibed and from which he would
+have cut himself away was yet a millstone about his neck. He was in
+the heyday of his youth, progressive and determined, but the torpid
+blood of an aged people clogged his veins. Spain will never lose her
+hold on him, despite his strongest efforts. His children may be
+citizens of the great Republic, but he must be a foreigner to the end.
+He must wander a stranger in strange cities, puzzling his Spanish wits
+over alien phrases and fashions and ideals, unless, indeed, his spirit
+loses edge, and he drifts into chill apathy of disappointment on
+finding that his golden castles in America are wrought of that same
+old dream-stuff which used to be the monopoly of castles in Spain.
+
+But it is best to leave ill-boding to the gypsies. Good luck may take
+a liking to him, if only for the music of his laugh. For even if
+blithe heart and courtly bearing bring no high cash value in the
+modern business market, they may smooth the road to simple happiness.
+Moreover, a Spaniard dearly loves a game of chance, and at the worst,
+our fortune-seeker will have thrown his dice. His may seem to the
+Yankee onlooker but a losing play, and yet--who knows? "He who sings
+frightens away his ills." God's blessing sails in summer clouds as
+lightly as in costly pleasure yachts. Out of a shaft of sunshine, a
+cup of chocolate, and a cigarette, this Andalusian immigrant, though
+stranded in an East Side tenement, may get more luxury than can be
+purchased by a multi-millionaire.
+
+  [Illustration: A ROMAN WELL IN RONDA]
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+A BULL-FIGHT
+
+     "I wish no living thing to suffer pain."--SHELLEY: _Prometheus
+       Unbound_.
+
+
+From our first crossing of the Pyrenees we were impressed, even beyond
+our expectation, with the Spanish passion for the bull-fight. The more
+cultivated Spaniards, to be sure, are usually unwilling to admit to a
+foreigner their pleasure in the pastime. "It is brutal," said a young
+physician of Madrid, as we discussed it. "It is a very painful thing
+to see, certainly. I go, myself, only two or three times a year, when
+the proceeds are to be devoted to some religious object--a charity or
+other holy work."
+
+No sight is more common in streets and parks than that of a group of
+boys playing _al toro_--one urchin charging about with sticks fastened
+to his shoulders for horns, or with a pasteboard bull's head pulled
+over his ears, and others waving scarlet cloths and brandishing
+improvised swords and lances. It is said that in fierce Valencia
+youths have sometimes carried on this sport with knives for horns and
+swords, the spectators relishing the bloodshed too well to interfere.
+Not easily do such lads as these forgive the little king for crying,
+like the sensitive child he is, the first time he was taken to the
+bull-ring.
+
+The _corridas de toros_, although denounced by some of the chief
+voices in Spain, are held almost a national shibboleth. Loyal
+supporters of the queen regent will add to their praises the sigh, "If
+only she loved the bull-fight!" Cavaliers and ladies fair reserve
+their choicest attire to grace these barbarities. It is a common
+saying that a Spaniard will sell his shirt to buy a ticket to the
+bull-ring, but whatever the deficiencies of the inner costume, the
+dress that meets the eye is brave in the extreme. It is recently
+becoming the fashion for _caballeros_, especially in the north of
+Spain, to discard those very fetching cloaks with the vivid
+linings--cloaks in which Spaniards muffle their faces to the eyebrows
+as they tread the echoing streets of cities founded some thousand or
+fifteen hundred years ago. But for a good old Spanish bull-fight, the
+good old Spanish costumes are out in force, the bright-hued _capas_
+and broad _sombreros_, and for the ladies, who also are beginning to
+discard the customary black mantilla for Parisian headgear, the
+exquisite white mantillas of early times and the largest and most
+richly decorated fans.
+
+It is in such places as the grim Roman amphitheatre of Italica, whose
+grass-grown arena has flowed so red with martyrdoms of men and beasts,
+that one despairs most of Spanish ability to give up the bull-fight.
+It is in the air, in the soil, in the blood; a national institution,
+an hereditary rage. "But it is the link that holds your country bound
+to barbarism. The rest of the world is on the forward move. I tell
+you, the continuance of the bull-fight means the ruin of Spain," urged
+a gigantic young German, in our hearing, on his Spanish friend. The
+slight figure of the Madrileno shook with anger. "And I tell _you_" he
+choked, "that Spain would rather perish with the bull-fight than
+survive without it." _Isabel la Catolica_, who earnestly strove to
+put down these savage contests, wrote at last to her Father Confessor
+that the task was too hard for her. The "Catholic Kings" could take
+Granada, unify Spain, establish the Inquisition, expel Moors and Jews,
+and open the Americas; but they could not abolish bull-fighting. Nor
+was Pius V, with his denial of Christian burial to all who fell in the
+arena, and his excommunication for princes who permitted _corridas de
+toros_ in their dominions, more successful. The papal bull, like the
+bulls of flesh and blood, was inevitably overthrown.
+
+Spanish legend likes to name the Cid as the first _torero_.
+
+     "Troth it goodly was and pleasant
+       To behold him at their head,
+     All in mail on Bavieca,
+       And to hear the words he said."
+
+In mediaeval times the sport was not without chivalric features.
+Knights fought for honor, where professionals now fight for _pesetas_.
+When the great Charles killed a bull with his own lance in honor of
+the birth of Philip II, the favor of the Austrian dynasty was secured.
+The Bourbons looked on the sport more coldly, but as royalty and
+nobility withdrew, the people pressed to the fore. Out of the hardy
+Spanish multitude rose a series of masters,--Romero the shoemaker,
+who, in general, gave to the art its modern form; Martincho the
+shepherd, who, seated in a chair with his feet bound, would await the
+charging brute; Candido, who would face the bull in full career and
+escape by leaping to its forehead and over its back; Costillares, who
+invented an ingenious way of getting in the death-stroke; the famous
+Pepe Hillo, who, like Candido, perished in the ring; a second Romero,
+said to have killed five thousand six hundred bulls; Montes the
+brick-layer, and a bloody band of followers. Andalusia is--alas!--the
+classic soil of the bull-fight, as every peasant knows, and Seville
+the top of Andalusia.
+
+     "I have a handsome lover,
+         Too bold to fear the Devil,
+     And he's the best _torero_
+         In all the town of Seville."
+
+The extravagance of the popular enthusiasm for these _fiestas de
+toros_ is often ridiculed on the stage, where dramas dealing with
+bull-fighting, especially if they bring in the heroes of the arena,
+Pepe Hillo, Romero, Costillares, are sure to take. One _zarzuela_
+represents a rheumatic old _aficionado_, or devotee of the sport,
+trying, with ludicrous results, to screw his courage to the point of
+facing the bull. Another spends its fun on a Madrid barber, who is
+likewise a brain-turned patron of the ring. Disregarding the shrill
+protests of his wife, he lavishes all his time, love, and money on the
+_corridas_ and encourages his daughter's _novio_, an honest young
+paper-hanger, to throw over his trade and learn to _torear_. After two
+years of the provincial arenas, the aspirant, nicknamed in the ring
+The Baby, has nothing but torn clothes and bruises to show for his
+career, and his sweetheart, eager to recall him from the hazardous
+profession, vows a waxen bull, large as life, to the Virgin, in case
+he returns to papering, with its humble security and its regularity of
+wages. Mary hears. On that great occasion, The Baby's debut at Madrid,
+the barber, who has just been lucky in the lottery, rents for him a
+gorgeous suit of second-hand finery, but in the _Plaza de Toros_ not
+even a rose-and-silver jacket can shield a quaking heart. The Baby is
+a coward born, and from the first rush of the first bull comes off
+with a bloody coxcomb, crying out his shame on the shoulder of his
+Pilar, who shall henceforth have him all her own.
+
+The little artist and I went into Spain with the firm determination
+not to patronize the bull-fight. Half our resolution we kept,--her
+half. Wherever we turned we encountered suggestions of the _corrida_.
+Spanish newspapers, even the most serious, devote columns to _Los
+Toros_. Bull-fighting has its special publications, as _El Toril_ and
+_El Toreo Comico_, and its special dialect. On the morning after a
+holy day the newspapers seem actually smeared with the blood of
+beasts. In the bull-fight season, from Easter to All Saints,
+_corridas_ are held every Sunday in all the cities of southern and
+central Spain, while the smaller towns and villages butcher as many
+bulls as they can possibly afford. The May and June that I passed in
+the capital gave me a peculiar abhorrence of the Madrid Sunday,--that
+feverish excitement everywhere; the rattle of all those extra
+omnibuses and cars with their red-tasselled mules in full gallop for
+the _Plaza de Toros_; that sense of furious struggle and mortal agony
+hanging over the city all through the slow, hot afternoon; those
+gaping crowds pressing to greet the _toreros_, a gaudy-suited company,
+on their triumphal return in open carriages; that eager discussion of
+the day's tragedy at every street-corner and from seat to seat along
+the _paseos_, even at our own dainty dinner table and on our own
+balconies under the rebuking stars. At this strange Sabbath service
+the Infanta Isabel, whose mother's birth was celebrated by the
+slaying of ninety-nine bulls, is a regular attendant, occupying the
+royal box and wearing the national colors. A French bull-fighter,
+visiting the Spanish capital, was invited by the Infanta to an
+audience and presented with a diamond pin. Not even the public
+mourning for Castelar could induce Madrid to forego the _corrida_ on
+that Sunday just before his burial. Past the very senate-house where
+his body lay in state rolled the aristocratic landaus, whose ladies
+displayed the gala-wear of white mantillas.
+
+But the Sundays were not enough. Every Catholic feast-day called for
+its sacrifice. Granada could not do fitting honor to Corpus Christi
+with less than three "_magnificas corridas_." The royal saint of
+Aranjuez, Fernando, must have his pious birthday kept by an orgy of
+blood. At the _fiesta_ of Christ's Ascension all Spain was busy
+staining his earth with the life-stream of His creatures. Valladolid
+was, indeed, ashamed to have torn to death only seven horses, but
+Segovia rejoiced in an expert who sat at his work and killed his bulls
+with drawing-room ease. Bordeaux improved the occasion, with aid of
+two celebrated Spanish _espadas_, by opening a French _Plaza de
+Toros_, and Valencia had the excitement of sending to the infirmary
+one _torero_ with a broken leg and another with a crushed foot. Such
+accidents are by no means uncommon. A _matador_ was mortally wounded
+in the Valencia ring that summer, a _banderillero_ was trampled at the
+Escorial, and those favorite stabbers, Reverte and Bombita, were
+themselves stabbed by avenging horns.
+
+If there is a temporary dearth of saint days, Spanish ingenuity will
+nevertheless find excuse for _corridas_. Bulls must bleed for holy
+charity,--for hospitals, foundling asylums, the families of workmen
+out on strike. If the French squadron is at Cadiz, hospitality demands
+a bull-fight. In the interests of popular education, an historical
+_corrida_ was arranged, with instructed _toreros_ to display the
+special styles of bull-killing that have prevailed from the Cid to
+Guerrita. Again, as a zoological by-play, an elephant was pitted
+against the bulls. This, too, had precedent, for did not Philip IV
+once keep his birthday by turning in among the horned herd a lion, a
+tiger, a camel, and a bear, "all Noah's ark and AEsop's fables"? A bull
+of Xarama vanquished them every one and received the gracious reward
+of being shot dead by Philip himself.
+
+It was on a Wednesday afternoon, at one of the three grand _corridas_
+of the Seville _Feria_, that I became an accomplice in this Spanish
+crime. Our friends in Seville, people of cultivation and liberal
+views, had declared from the first that we could have no conception of
+Spanish life and character without sharing in the national _fiesta_.
+"We ourselves are not enthusiasts," they said. "In fact, we disapprove
+the bull-fight. We regard it as demoralizing to the community at
+large. It is, nevertheless, a thing scientific, artistic, heroic,
+_Spanish_. Besides, a large portion of the proceeds goes to charity.
+We do not attend the _corridas_, except now and then, especially when
+we have foreign guests who wish to see them. Before going they all
+regard bull-fighting as you do, as an atrocity, a barbarity, but
+invariably they return from the _Plaza de Toros_ filled with delight
+and admiration. They say their previous ideas were all wrong, that it
+is a noble and splendid spectacle, that they want to see it again and
+again, that they cannot be too grateful to us for having delivered
+them from prejudice."
+
+I winced at the word. I have a prejudice against being prejudiced, and
+to the bull-fight I went.
+
+My yielding came too late for securing places in a box or in any part
+of the house from which one can make exit during the performance. Our
+gory-looking tickets admitted us to the uppermost row of high,
+whitewashed, stone seats of the circus proper, where we were soon
+inextricably wedged in by the human mass that formed around and below
+us. The hour of waiting passed merrily enough. The open amphitheatre,
+jammed to its full capacity of fourteen thousand, lay half in
+brilliant sunlight and half in creeping shadow. Above us arched the
+glowing blue sky of Seville, pricked by the rosy Giralda, and from
+time to time a strong-winged bird flew over. The great arena, strewn
+with yellow sand, was enclosed by a dark red barrier of wood, about
+the height of a man. This was encircled, at a little distance, by a
+more secure and higher wall of stone. The concourse was largely
+composed of men, both roughs and gentles, but there was no lack of
+ladies, elegantly dressed, nor of children. Two sweet little girls in
+white-feathered hats were just in front of us, dancing up and down to
+relieve the thrills of expectancy. White mantillas, pinned with
+jewels, bent from the boxes, while the daughters of the people dazzled
+the eye with their festival display of Manila shawls, some pure white,
+some with colored figures on a white ground or a black, and some a
+rainbow maze of capricious needle-work. The rich-hued blossoms of
+Andalusia were worn in the hair and on the breast. The sunny side of
+the circus was brightly dotted by parasols, orange, green, vermilion,
+and fans in all the cardinal colors twinkled like a shivered
+kaleidoscope. The men's black eyes glittered under those broad
+_sombreros_, white or drab, while they puffed their cigarettes with
+unwonted energy, scattering the ashes in soft gray showers over their
+neighbors on the seats below. The tumult of voices had a keener note
+of excitement than I had yet heard in Spain, and was so loud and
+insistent as often to drown the clashing music of the band. The cries
+of various venders swelled the mighty volume of noise. Water-sellers
+in vivid blouses and sashes, a red handkerchief twisted around the
+neck, on the left shoulder a cushion of folded carpeting for the
+shapely, yellow-brown jar, and a smart tin tray, holding two glasses,
+corded to the belt, went pushing through the throng. Criers of
+oranges, newspapers, crabs, and cockles, almond cakes, fans, and
+photographs of the _toreros_, strove with all the might of their lungs
+against the universal uproar.
+
+     "Crece el entusiasmo;
+     Crece la alegria;
+     Todo es algazara;
+     Todo es confusion."
+
+A tempest of applause marked the entrance in a box above of a popular
+_prima donna_, who draped a resplendent carmine scarf over the railing
+before her seat. Immediately the complete circuit of the rail was
+ablaze with color, cloaks and shawls instantly converting themselves
+into tapestry.
+
+At last two attendants entered the arena, walked up to a hydrant in
+the centre, fastened on a hose, and watered the great circle. They
+pulled out the hydrant and raked sand over the hole. Simple as these
+actions were, a dreadful quiet fell on all the circus.
+
+A trumpet blared. Mounted _alguaciles_, or police, tricked out in
+ancient Spanish costume, on blue saddles, and with tall blue plumes in
+their hats, rode in and cleared the arena of all stragglers. A door
+opened, and forth issued the full circus troupe, making a fine show of
+filigree, and urging their wretched old nags to a last moment of
+equine pride and spirit. Amid roars of welcome, they flaunted across
+the sanded enclosure and saluted the presiding officer. He dropped the
+key of the _toril_, that dark series of cells into which the bulls had
+been driven some hours before. An _alguacil_ caught the key and handed
+it to the _torilero_, who ran with it toward a second door, ominously
+surmounted by a great bull's head. Then there was a twinkling of the
+pink stockings and black sandals. Most of the gay company leaped the
+barrier, and even the _chulos_ who remained in the ring placed
+themselves within convenient distance of the rail. Some of the
+_picadores_ galloped out, but a few awaited the coming charge, their
+long pikes in rest. The door on which all eyes were bent flew open,
+and a bellowing red bull rushed in. The fierce, bloodthirsty, horrible
+yell that greeted him checked his impetuous onset. For a few seconds
+the creature stood stock-still, glaring at the scene. Heaven knows
+what he thought of us. He had had five perfect years of life on the
+banks of the Guadalquivir,--one baby year by his mother's side, one
+year of sportive roving with his mates, and then had come the trial of
+his valor. He had found all the herdsmen gathered at the ranch one
+morning, and, nevertheless, flattered himself that he had evaded those
+hateful pikes, _garrochas_, that were always goading him back when he
+would sally out to explore the great green world. At all events, here
+he was scampering alone across the plain. But promptly two horsemen
+were at his heels, and one of these, planting a blunt _garrocha_ on
+his flank, rolled the youngster over. Up again, panting with surprise
+and indignation, he felt a homesick impulse to get back to the herd,
+but the second horseman was full in his path. So much the worse for
+the horseman! The mettlesome young bull lowered his horns and charged
+the obstacle, only to be thrown back with a smarting shoulder. If he
+had yielded then, his would have been the quiet yoke and the long,
+dull life of labor, but he justified his breed; he charged anew, and
+so proved himself worthy of the arena. Three more years of the deep,
+green river-reeds and the sweet Andalusian sunshine, three years of
+free, far range and glad companionship, and then the end. His days had
+been exempt from burden only to save his wild young strength for the
+final tragedy. One summer morning those traitors known as decoy-oxen,
+with bells about the neck, came trotting into the herd. The noble
+bulls, now at their best hour of life, the glory of their kind,
+welcomed these cunning guests with frank delight and interest, and
+were easily induced to follow them and their tinkling bells across the
+rich pastures, along rough country roads, even to the city itself and
+the fatal _Plaza de Toros_. The herdsmen with their ready pikes
+galloped behind the drove, and everywhere along the way peasants and
+townsfolk would fall in for a mile or two to help in urging the
+excited animals onward to their cruel doom.
+
+In that strange, maddening sea of faces, that hubbub of hostile
+voices, the bull, as soon as his blinking eyes had effected the change
+from the darkness of the _toril_ to the glaring light and gaudy
+colors of the coliseum, caught sight of a horseman with the familiar
+pike. Here was something that he recognized and hated. Lowering his
+head, the fiery brute dashed with a bellow at that tinselled figure.
+Ah, the pike had never been so sharp before! It went deep into his
+shoulder, but could not hold him back. He plunged his horns, those
+mighty spears, into the body of the helpless, blindfolded horse, which
+the _picador_, whose jacket was well padded and whose legs were cased
+in iron, deliberately offered to his wrath. The poor horse shrieked,
+plunged, reeled, and fell, the _chulos_ deftly dragging away the
+armored rider, while the bull ripped and trampled that quivering
+carcass, for whose torment no man cared, until it was a crimson,
+formless heap.
+
+Such sickness swept over me that I did not know what followed. When I
+looked again, two bloody masses that had once been horses disfigured
+the arena, and the bull, stuck all over like a hedge-hog with
+derisive, many-colored darts, had gone down under Guerrita's steel.
+
+My friends, observing with concern that I was not enjoying myself as
+much as they had promised, tried to divert my attention to the
+technical features of their ghastly game. It was really, they
+explained, a drama in three acts. It is the part of the mounted
+_picador_ to draw off the first rage and vigor of the bull, weakening
+him, but not slaying him, by successive wounds. Then the jaunty
+_banderilleros_, the streamers of whose darts must correspond in color
+with their costumes, supply a picturesque and amusing element, a comic
+interlude. Finally an _espada_, or _matador_, advances alone to
+despatch the tortured creature. The death-blow can be dealt only in
+one of several fashions, established by rule and precedent, and the
+_espada_ who is startled into an unprofessional thrust reaps a bitter
+harvest of scoffs and hisses.
+
+A team of gayly-caparisoned mules with jingling bells had meanwhile
+trundled away the mangled bodies of the slaughtered animals, fresh
+sand had been thrown over the places slippery with blood, and the band
+pealed the entrance of the second bull. This was a demon, black as a
+coal, with a marvellous pride and spirit that availed him nothing.
+Horse after horse crashed down before his furious rushes, while the
+circus, drunk with glee, shouted for more victims and more and more.
+It was a massacre. At last our hideous greed was glutted, and the
+_banderilleros_ took their turn in baiting the now enfeebled but
+undaunted bull. Wildly he shook himself, the fore half of his body
+already a flood of crimson, to throw off the ignominy of those
+stinging darts. The _chulos_ fretted and fooled him with their waving
+cloaks of red and yellow, till at last the creature grew hushed and
+sullen. A strain of music announced that the _matador_ Fuentes was
+asking beneath the president's box permission to kill the bull. For my
+part, I gave the bull permission to kill the man. Fuentes, all pranked
+out in gray and gold, holding his keen blade behind him and
+flourishing a scarlet square of cloth, swinging from a rod, the
+_muleta_, advanced upon the brute. That bleeding body shook with a new
+access of rage, and the other _espadas_ drew near and stood at watch.
+But even before a blow was struck the splendid, murdered creature sank
+to his knees, staggered up once more, sank again with crimson foam
+upon his mouth, and the music clashed jubilantly while Fuentes drove
+the weapon home. And again the team of mules, with foolish tossing of
+their bright-ribboned heads, jerked and jolted their dead kindred off
+the scene.
+
+The third bull galloped in with a roar that was heard far beyond the
+_Plaza_ and gored his first two horses so promptly and so frightfully
+that, while the hapless beasts still struggled in their agony, the
+amphitheatre howled with delirious joy. Several _capas_ were caught
+away on those swift, effective horns, and one _picador_ was hurt. But
+the rain of darts teased and bewildered the bull to the point of
+stupidity, although he was dangerous yet.
+
+     "Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil;
+     And the dun hide glows, as if on fire, as he paws to the turmoil.
+     His eyes are jet, and they are set in crystal rings of snow;
+     But now they stare with one red glare of brass upon the foe."
+
+It was the turn of Bombita, a dandy in dark-green suit with silver
+trimmings; but his comrades, pale and intent, stood not far off and
+from time to time, by irritating passes, drew the bull's wrath upon
+themselves, wearying him ever more and more, until at last Bombita had
+his chance to plant a telling blow.
+
+Would it never end? Again the fatal door swung open, and the fourth
+bull bounded in to play his tragic role. He was of choicest pedigree,
+but the utter strangeness of the scene turned his taurine wits. He
+made distracted and aimless rushes hither and thither, unheeding the
+provocations of the horsemen, until he came upon the spot drenched
+with his predecessor's life-blood. He pawed away the hasty covering of
+sand, sniffed at that ominous stain, and then, throwing up his head
+with a strange bellow, bolted back to the door by which he had
+entered, and turned tail to the arena. The fourteen thousand, crazy
+with rage, sprang to their feet, shook their fists, called him _cow_.
+The _chulos_ brandished their cloaks about his horns; men leaned over
+from the barrier and prodded him with staffs. Finally, in desperation,
+he turned on the nearest horse, rent it and bore it down. The
+_picador_, once set up by the _chulos_ upon his stiff, iron-cased
+legs, his yellow finery streaked with red from his lacerated horse,
+tugged savagely at the bridle to force that dying creature to a second
+stand. One attendant wrenched it by the tail, another beat it
+viciously over the face; the all-enduring beast, his entrails swinging
+from a crimson gash, struggled to his feet. The _picador_ mounted,
+drove in the spurs, and the horse, rocking and pitching, accomplished
+a few blind paces toward those dripping horns that horribly awaited
+him. But to the amazement and scandal of the _aficionados_, the circus
+raised a cry of protest, and the discomfited rider sprang down in the
+very moment when his horse fell to rise no more. A _chulo_, at his
+leisurely convenience, quieted those kicking hoofs by a stab,--the one
+drop of mercy in that ocean of human outrage.
+
+Straw-colored darts, wine-colored darts, sky-colored darts, were
+pricking the bull to frenzy. I wished he had any half-dozen of his
+enemies in a clear pasture. Those glittering dragon-flies were always
+just out of reach, but he stumbled on the sodden shape of the unhappy
+horse and tossed it again and again, making the poor carcass fling up
+its head and arch its neck in ghastly mockery of life. Cowardice
+avails a bull as little as courage. This sorry fighter had been deeply
+pierced by the _garrochas_, and now, as he galloped clumsily about
+the arena, in unavailing efforts to escape from his tormentors, his
+violent, foolish plunges made the dark blood flow the faster. It was
+Guerrita, Guerrita the adored, Guerrita in gold-laced jacket and
+violet trousers, who struck the ultimate blow, and so cleverly that
+_sombreros_ and cigarettes, oranges and pocket-flasks, came raining,
+amid furies of applause, into the arena. This was such a proud moment
+as he had dreamed of long ago in the Cordova slaughter-house, when,
+the little son of the slaughter-house porter, he had stolen from his
+bed at midnight to play _al toro_ with the calves, and then and there
+had solemnly dedicated himself to the glorious profession. Now the
+master of his art and the idol of all Spain, easily making his
+seventy-five thousand dollars a year, earning, in fact, three thousand
+on that single afternoon, Guerrita little foresaw that with the coming
+autumn he should go on pilgrimage to _La Virgen del Pilar_, and before
+her beloved shrine at Saragossa cut off his bull-fighter's pigtail and
+renounce the ring.
+
+The fifth bull was black as ebony. He dashed fearlessly into the
+arena, charged and wheeled and tossed his horns in the splendor of his
+strength, sending every red-vested _chulo_ scrambling over the wall.
+Then he backed to the middle of the sanded circle, snorting and pawing
+the earth. Another instant, and the nearest horse and rider went
+crashing against the barrier. The _picador_, with a bruised face,
+forced up the gasping horse, mounted and rode it, the beast treading
+out its entrails as it went, to meet a second charge. But the swaying
+horse fell dead before it reached those lowered horns again. The next
+_picador_, too, went down heavily under his jade and received an
+awkward sprain. He mounted once more, to show that he could, and the
+circus cheered him, but his horse, torn to death, could not bear his
+weight. He gave it an angry push with the foot as he left it writhing
+in its life-blood. This whirlwind of a bull, who shook off all but one
+of the _banderillas_, mortified even the _matadores_. Disregarding the
+red rag, he rushed at Fuentes himself. The nimble _torero_ leapt
+aside, but the bull's horn struck his sword and sent it spinning half
+across the arena. His comrades immediately ran, with waving _capas_
+and bright steel, to his aid, but that too intelligent bull, fighting
+for his life, kept his foes at bay until the circus hissed with
+impatience. The _toreros_, visibly nettled, gathered closer and
+closer, but had to play that death-game cautiously. This bull was
+dangerous. The coliseum found him tedious. He took too long in dying.
+Stabbed again and again and again, he yet agonized to his feet and
+shook those crimsoned horns at his tormentors, who still hung back. It
+really was dull. The _matadores_ buzzed about him, worrying his dying
+sight, but he stood sullen in their midst, refusing the charges to
+which they tempted him, guarding his last drops of strength, and,
+cardinal offence in a _toro_, holding his head too high for the
+professional stroke. His vital force was ebbing. Red foam dripped from
+his mouth. That weary hoof no longer pawed the earth. The people
+shouted insults even to their pet Guerrita, but Guerrita, like the
+rest, stood baffled. At last that formidable figure, no longer black,
+but a red glaze of blood and sweat and foam, fell in a sudden
+convulsion. Then his valiant murderers sprang upon him, the stabs came
+thick and fast, and the jingling mule-team pranced in to form his
+funeral cortege.
+
+One more,--the sixth. I was long past indignation, past any acuteness
+of pain, simply sickened through body and soul and unutterably
+wearied with this hideous monotony of slaughter. The last bull, a
+white star shining on his black forehead, tore into the arena, raced
+all about the circle, and struck with amazing rapidity wherever he saw
+a foe. Three horses were down, were up again, and were forced, all
+with trailing intestines, to a second charge. The bull flashed like a
+thunderbolt from one to another, rending and digging with his savage
+horns, until three mangled bodies writhed on the reddened sand, and
+stabbers watched their chances to run forward and quiet with the knife
+the horrible beating of those hoofs in air. The circus yelled delight.
+It had all been the work of a moment,--a brave bull, a great
+sensation! For the performers it was rather too much of a good thing.
+Those disembowelled carcasses cluttered up the arena. The scattered
+entrails were slippery under foot. The dart-throwers hastened to the
+next act of the tragedy. Theirs was a subtlety too much for the
+fury-fuddled wits of that mighty, blundering brute. He galloped to and
+fro, spending his strength in useless charges and, a score of times,
+ignoring the men to hook wildly at their brandished strips of colored
+cloth. The darts had been planted and he was losing blood. The
+_matador_ went to his work, but the uncivil bull did not make it easy
+for him. Bombita could not get in a handsome blow. The house began to
+hoot and taunt. A stentorian voice called to him to "kill that bull
+to-morrow." Exasperated by the laughter that greeted this sally,
+Bombita drove his Toledo blade to its mark. While the final scene of
+general stabbing was going on, boys, men, even women vaulted into the
+arena, played over again with one another the more memorable
+incidents, ran to inspect those shapeless carcasses of what God
+created horses, and escorted the funeral train of the bull, one
+small boy riding in gleeful triumph on top of the great black body,
+harmless and still at last. As we passed out by a hallway where the
+dead animals had been dragged, we had to pick our way through pools of
+blood and clots of entrails. Thus by the road of the shambles we came
+forth from hell.
+
+  [Illustration: THE GIRALDA]
+
+"I do not understand at all," sincerely protested my Spanish host,
+disconcerted by the continued nausea and horror of red dreams which,
+justly enough, pursued me for weeks after. "It was a very favorable
+_corrida_ for a beginner,--no serious accident, no use of the
+fire-darts, no houghing of the bull with the demi-lune, nothing
+objectionable. And, after all, animals are only animals; they are not
+Christians."
+
+"Who were the Christians in that circus?" I asked. "How could devils
+have been worse than we?"
+
+He half glanced toward the morning paper but was too kindly to speak
+his thought. It was not necessary. I had read the paper, which gave
+half a column to a detailed account of a recent lynching, with
+torture, in the United States.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+GYPSIES
+
+     "'Life is sweet, brother.'
+
+     "'Do you think so?'
+
+     "'Think so!--There's night and day, brother, both sweet
+     things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things;
+     there's likewise a wind on the heath. Life is very sweet,
+     brother; who would wish to die?'
+
+     "'I would wish to die.'
+
+     "'You talk like a gorgio--which is the same as talking like a
+     fool--were you a Rommany Chal you would talk wiser. Wish to
+     die, indeed!--A Rommany Chal would wish to live forever!'
+
+     "'In sickness, Jasper?'
+
+     "'There's the sun and stars, brother.'
+
+     "'In blindness, Jasper?'
+
+     "'There's the wind on the heath, brother; if I could only feel
+     that, I would gladly live forever. _Dosta_, we'll now go to
+     the tents and put on the gloves; and I'll try to make you feel
+     what a sweet thing it is to be alive, brother!'"
+                                                --GEORGE BORROW.
+
+
+No foreigner has known the Zingali better than George Borrow, the
+linguistic Englishman, who could speak Rommany so well that gypsies
+all over Europe took him for a brother. In the employ of the English
+Bible Society, he spent some five adventurous years in Spain,
+wandering through the wilds and sharing the life of shepherds,
+muleteers, even the fierce _gitanos_. As he found the Spanish gypsies
+half a century ago, so, in essentials, are they still--the men
+jockeys, tinkers, and blacksmiths, the women fortune tellers and
+dancers, the children the most shameless little beggars of all the
+Peninsula. Yet there has been an improvement.
+
+The _gitanos_ are not such ruffians as of old, nor even such arrant
+thieves, although it would still be unwise to trust them within call
+of temptation.
+
+     "There runs a swine down yonder hill,
+       As fast as e'er he can,
+     And as he runs he crieth still,
+       'Come, steal me, Gypsyman.'"
+
+Still more compromising is the Christmas carol:--
+
+     "Into the porch of Bethlehem
+         Have crept the gypsies wild,
+     And they have stolen the swaddling clothes
+         Of the new-born Holy Child.
+
+     "Oh, those swarthy gypsies!
+         What won't the rascals dare?
+     They have not left the Christ Child
+         A single shred to wear."
+
+There are wealthy gypsies, whose wives and daughters go arrayed with
+the utmost elegance of fashion, in several Spanish cities. Seville has
+her gypsy lawyer, but her gypsy bull-fighter, who died two years ago,
+was held to reflect even greater credit on the parent stock.
+
+By law the gypsies are now established as Spaniards, with full claim
+to Spanish rights and privileges--_Nuevos Castellanos_, as they have
+been called since the day when Spain bethought her of these Ishmaels
+as "food for powder" and subjected them to the regular military
+draft. Even in Granada, where the gypsy community still lives in
+semi-barbarism, there are hopeful signs. The _gitanos_ drive a sharp
+trade in donkeys, but their forge fires, gleaming far up the Albaicin
+in the evening, testify to their industry. The recent opening by the
+municipality of schools for the gypsy children has already wrought a
+marked change for the better. Some half-dozen dirty little palms,
+outstretched for _cinco centimos_, pester the stranger to-day where
+scores used to torment him, and the mothers take pride in the literary
+accomplishments of their tawny broods. On one occasion, when, having,
+as the Spanish say, "clean pockets," I firmly declined to see a small
+gypsy girl dance or hear her sing, the mother assured me, as a last
+greedy expedient, that "the child could pray."
+
+On the Alhambra hill the gypsies, who scent tourists from afar and
+troop thither, on the track of newly arrived parties, like wolves to
+their banquet, are picturesque figures enough, the men in peaked hats,
+spangled jackets, and sashes of red silk, the women with bright
+handkerchiefs bound over their raven hair, large silver earrings, gay
+bodices, and short, flounced petticoats.
+
+There is one old _gitano_, in resplendent attire, who haunts the
+Alhambra doors and introduces himself to visitors, with bows queerly
+compounded of condescension and supplication, as the King of the
+Gypsies, modestly offering his photograph for a _peseta_. If you turn
+to your attendant Spaniard and ask, _sotto voce_, "But is this truly
+the Gypsy King?" you will receive a prompt affirmative, while the
+quick-witted old masquerader strikes a royal attitude, rolls his eyes
+prodigiously, and twirls his three-cornered hat at arm's length above
+his head, until its tinsel ornaments sparkle like crown jewels. But no
+sooner is his Majesty well out of hearing than your guide hastens to
+eat his own words. "No, no, no! He is not the King of the Gypsies, but
+he is a gypsy, yes, and it is better not to have his ill will."
+
+Whether this hardened pretender could cast the evil eye or not, we
+never knew, for having bought two of his pictures at the first onset,
+we suffered ever afterward the sunshine of his favor. In fact we often
+made a wide detour rather than pass him on the hill, for he would
+spring to his feet at our remotest approach and stand bowing like an
+image of perpetual motion, his hat brandished high in air, until our
+utmost in the way of answering nods and smiles seemed by contrast
+sheer democratic incivility.
+
+The swarthy faces and glittering eyes of the gypsies meet one
+everywhere in the Granada streets, but to see them in their own
+precinct it is necessary to take off your watch, empty your pockets of
+all but small silver and coppers, and go to the Albaicin. This hill,
+parted from the Alhambra by the deep ravine of the gold-bearing Darro,
+was in Moorish times the chosen residence of the aristocracy. Still
+Arabian arches span the gorge, and many of the toppling old houses
+that lean over the swift, mountain-born current, shabby as they look
+to the passer-by, are beautiful within with arabesque and fretwork,
+carven niches, delicate columns and open patios, where fountains still
+gush and orange blossoms still shed fragrance. Such degenerate palaces
+are often occupied by the better class of gypsies, those who traffic
+in horses, as well as in donkeys, while their women, grouped in the
+courts and doorways, embroider with rainbow wools, in all fantastic
+patterns, the stout mantles of the Andalusian mountaineers.
+
+As we climbed the Albaicin, fronting as it does the hill of the
+Alhambra, the exceeding beauty of the view at first claimed all our
+power of seeing. Below was the gray sweep of the city and beyond the
+fruitful plain of Granada, its vivid green shading into a far-off
+dimness like the sea. Just opposite us rose the fortress of the
+Alhambra, a proud though broken girdle of walls and towers, while in
+the background soared the dazzling snow peaks of the Sierra Nevada,
+glistening with unbearable splendor under the intense blue of the
+Andalusian sky.
+
+In the midst of our rhapsodies I became aware of a shrill voice at my
+feet, a persistent tug at my skirts, and reluctantly dropped my eyes
+on a comely little gypsy lass lying along a sunny ledge and
+imperiously demanding _cinco centimos_.
+
+"Now what would you do with _cinco centimos_ if you had them?"
+
+With the universal beggar gesture she pointed to her mouth. "Buy a
+rusk. I am starving. I am already dead of hunger."
+
+Crossing her hands upon her breast, she closed her eyes in token of
+her mortal extremity, but instantly flashed them open again to note
+the effect.
+
+"Your cheeks are not the cheeks of famine."
+
+At a breath the young sorceress sucked them in and succeeded, plump
+little person though she was, in looking so haggard and so woe-begone
+that our political economy broke down in laughter, and we gave her the
+coveted cent in return for her transformation act.
+
+Off she darted, with her wild locks flying in the wind, and was back
+in a twinkling, a circlet of bread suspended from her arm. She tripped
+along beside us for the rest of the afternoon, using the rusk
+sometimes as a hoop, sometimes as a crown, sometimes as a peephole.
+She tossed it, sang through it, dandled it, stroked it, and
+occasionally, while the bread approximated more and more in hue to her
+own gypsy complexion, took an artistic nibble, dotting the surface
+with a symmetrical curve of bites. It was not mere food to her; it was
+luxury, it was mirth--like a Lord Mayor's feast or a Delmonico
+breakfast.
+
+Following the _Camino del Sacro Monte_, marked by many crosses, our
+attention was more and more withdrawn from the majestic views spread
+out before us to the gypsies, whose cave dwellings lined the way.
+Burrowing into the earth, from the midst of thickets of prickly pear,
+are these strange abodes, whose chimneys rise abruptly out of the
+green surface of the hillside. Dens as they are, the best of them
+possess some decencies. Flaps of cloth serve them for doors, their
+peering fronts are whitewashed, they are furnished with a stool or
+two, a box of tools or clothing, a few water-jars, a guitar, and, in
+the farther end of the lair, a family bedstead, or more often a heap
+of dirty sheepskins. Cooking tins, bottles, saddles, and coils of rope
+hang on the rough walls; there may be a shelf of amulets and toys for
+sale, and the indispensable pot of _puchero_ simmers over a handful of
+fire.
+
+Out from these savage homes swarmed a whining, coaxing, importunate
+horde of sly-eyed women and an impish rabble of children. Young and
+old clutched at us with unclean hands, clung to us with sinewy brown
+arms, begged, flattered, demanded, and dragged us bodily into their
+hill. We felt as if we had gone back to German fairy tales and had
+fallen into the evil grip of the gnomes. Hardly could escort,
+carriage, and a reckless rain of coppers break the spell. We were
+forced to taste their repulsive messes, to cross witch palms with
+silver, to buy even the roadside weeds the urchins gathered before our
+eyes. We were birds for the plucking, sheep for the shearing. Only
+when we had turned our pockets inside out to show that we had not a
+"little dog" left, were we suffered to go free, followed, doubtless,
+by the curses of Egypt, because we had yielded such poor picking.
+
+In Seville, too, the gypsies have their own quarter, but in proportion
+as Seville is a gentler city than Granada, so are the looks and
+manners of her gypsy population more attractive. Crossing the yellow
+Guadalquivir by the bridge of Isabel Segunda, we come immediately on
+the picturesque, dark-visaged figures, with their uneffaced suggestion
+of wildness, of freedom, of traditions apart from the common humdrum
+of humanity. The boy, clad in one fluttering garment, who is
+perilously balancing his slender brown body on the iron rail; the
+bright-kerchiefed young mother, thrusting her tiny black bantling into
+our faces; the silent, swarthy men who lean along the bridge side,
+lithe even in their lounging;--all have a latent fierceness in their
+look. Their eyes are keen as knives--strange eyes, whose glitter masks
+the depth. But as we go on into the potter's suburb of Triana, into
+the thick of the gypsy life, we are not more seriously molested than
+by the continual begging, nor is this the rough, imperious begging of
+Granada; a flavor of Sevillian grace and fun has passed upon it. Offer
+this bush-headed lad, pleading starvation, the orange he has just
+tossed away, and he will double up over the joke and take to his
+little bare heels. Give to the fawning sibyl who insists on telling
+your fortune a red rose for her hair, and the chances are that she
+will rest content. But the time to see the gypsies in their glory is
+during the three days and nights of the _Feria_.
+
+On the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth of April Seville annually
+keeps, on the _Prado de San Sebastian_, where the Inquisition used to
+light its fires, the blithest of spring festivals. The _Feria_ is a
+fair, but much more than a fair. There are droves upon droves of
+horses, donkeys, cattle, goats, sheep, and pigs. There are rows upon
+rows of booths with toys, booths with nuts and candies, booths with
+the gay-handled Albacete knives and daggers. There are baskets upon
+baskets of rainbow fans, mimic fighting cocks, oranges, and other
+cheap Sevillian specialties. Cooling drinks are on sale at every turn,
+but there is no drunkenness. There are thousands and tens of thousands
+of people in motion, but there is no bustling, no elbowing, no
+rudeness of pressure. Dainty little children wander alone in that
+tremendous throng. The order and tranquillity that prevail by day and
+night in this multitude of merrymakers render it possible for the
+_Feria_ to be what it is. For during these enchanted April hours even
+the noblest families of Seville come forth from the proud seclusion of
+their patios and live in _casetas_, little rustic houses that are
+scarcely more than open tents, exposed to the gaze of every passer-by.
+
+A lofty bridge, crossed by two broad flights of stairs and tapering to
+a tower, stands at the intersection of the three chief _Feria_
+avenues. The bridge is brilliantly illuminated by night, and
+close-set globes of gas, looped on running tubes along both sides of
+these three festal streets, pour floods of light into the _casetas_.
+Chinese lanterns in red and yellow abound, and lines of banner-staffs
+flaunt the Spanish colors. The _casetas_ are usually constructed of
+white canvas on a framework of light-brown fretwood, though the
+materials are sometimes more durable.
+
+Clubhouses are large and elaborate, and individual taste varies the
+aspect of the private tents. The more important families of Seville
+own their _casetas_, but in general these airy abodes are rented from
+year to year, the price for the three days of the _Feria_ ranging from
+twenty-five dollars on the central avenue to five dollars for the more
+remote houselets on the two streets that branch off at right angles.
+The numerous byways are occupied by cafes, booths, penny shows, and
+the like, the gypsies having one side of a lane to themselves. The
+other side is given over to circus-rings, merry-go-rounds,
+cradle-swings marked "For Havana," "For Manila," "For Madrid," dancing
+dwarfs, braying bands, caged bulls, and tents provided with peepholes
+through which one may see "The Glorious Victory of the Spanish Troops
+at Santiago," and other surprising panoramas of the recent war. These
+are in high favor with soldiers and small boys, whose black heads bump
+together at every aperture.
+
+Such attractions are especially potent over the country folk, who come
+jogging into Seville during fair time, mounted two or three together
+on jaded horses, sorry mules, and even on indignant little donkeys.
+Their peasant costumes add richly to the charm of the spectacle, and
+their simplicity makes them an easy spoil for the canny folk of Egypt.
+You see them especially in the cool of the early morning, when trade
+in cattle is at its liveliest. Ten to one they have been fleeced
+already by the _gitanos_, who, out in the great meadow where the
+live-stock is exposed for sale, have their own corner for "dead
+donkeys," as the Sevillians term the decrepit old beasts that have
+been magically spruced up for the occasion. Cervantes has his jest at
+"a gypsy's ass, with quicksilver in its ears."
+
+Then comes the turn of the _gitanas_, looking their prettiest, with
+roses in hair, and over the shoulders those captivating black silk
+shawls embroidered in many-colored patterns of birds and flowers. The
+younger enchantresses keep watch, each in front of her family tent,
+before whose parted curtains the more ill-favored women of the
+household are busy frying the crisp brown _bunuelos_, a species of
+doughnut dear to the Spanish tooth.
+
+As you loiter down the lane, be you wide-eyed shepherd from the
+provinces, or elegant grandee from Madrid, or haughty foreigner from
+London or Vienna, the sturdy sirens rush upon you, seize you by arm or
+neck, and by main force tug you into their tented prisons, from which
+you must gnaw your way out through a heap of hot _bunuelos_. Or you
+may compromise on a cup of Spanish chocolate, flavored with cinnamon
+and thick as flannel, or perhaps win your liberty by gulping down a
+cupful of warm goat's milk. The prices shock the portliest purses, but
+at your first faint sign of protest a gathering mob of gypsies presses
+close with jeers and hisses, and even the frying-pan sputters
+contempt.
+
+The _Feria_ presents its most quiet aspect during the afternoon. Some
+twenty or thirty thousand of the promenaders have been drawn off by
+the superior attraction of the bull-fight, and others have retired for
+their siestas. Yet there are thousands left. This is a grand time for
+the children, who disport themselves in the avenues with whistles,
+swords, balls, kites, and other trophies from the toy booths. These
+little people are exquisitely dressed, often in the old Andalusian
+costumes, and tiny lad and tiny lass, of aristocratic look and
+bearing, may be seen tripping together through one of the graceful
+national dances in the midst of a sidewalk throng. The toddlers, too,
+are out, under charge of happy nursemaids.
+
+Even the babies have been brought to the fair, and lie, contentedly
+sucking their rosy thumbs, in the doorways of the _casetas_. The lords
+of these doll-houses are enjoying peaceful smokes together in the
+background of the open parlors, which are furnished with as many
+chairs as possible, a piano, and a central stand of flowers; while
+semicircles of silent ladies, languidly waving the most exquisite of
+fans, sit nearer the front, watching the ceaseless stream of
+pedestrians, and beyond these the double procession of carriages,
+which keep close rank as they advance on one side of the avenue and
+return on the other. It is bad form not to go to the _Feria_ once at
+least in a carriage. Large families of limited means hire spacious
+vehicles resembling omnibuses, and, squeezed together in two opposite
+rows, drive up and down the three chief streets for hours.
+
+There are crested landaus, with handsome horses, gay donkey-carts,
+decked out with wreaths and tassels, shabby cabs, sporting red and
+yellow ribbons on their whips, tooting coaches--every sort and kind of
+contrivance for relieving humanity of its own weight. There are
+mounted cavaliers in plenty, and occasionally, under due masculine
+escort, a fair-haired English girl rides by, or a group of Spanish
+senoras, who have come into Seville on horseback from their country
+homes. But all this movement is slow and dreamy, the play of the
+children being as gentle as the waving of the fans.
+
+Even Gypsy Lane shares in the tranquillity of the drowsy afternoon. We
+were captured there almost without violence, and, while we trifled
+with the slightest refreshment we could find, a juvenile entertainment
+beguiled us of our coppers with pleasurable ease. A coquettish midget
+of four summers innocently danced for us the dances that are not
+innocent, and a wee goblin of seven, who could not be induced to
+perform without a cap, that he might pull it down over his bashful
+eyes, stamped and kicked, made stealthy approaches and fierce starts
+of attack through the savage hunting jigs inherited from the ancient
+life of the wilderness. The women swung their arms and shrilled wild
+tunes to urge the children on, but a second youngster who attempted
+one of these barbaric dances for us broke down in mid career, and,
+amid a chorus of screaming laughter, buried his blushes in his
+mother's lap. The tent had become crowded with stalwart, black
+_gitanos_, but they were in a domestic mood, smiled on the children's
+antics, and eyed us with grim amusement as the women caught up from
+rough cradles and thrust into our arms those elfish babies of theirs.
+Even the infant of five days winked at us with trickery in its jet
+beads of vision. But so inert was gypsy enterprise that we were
+suffered to depart with a few _pesetas_ yet in our possession.
+
+In the evening, from eight till one, the _Feria_ is perfect Fairyland.
+Under the light of those clustered gas globes and butterfly-colored
+lanterns pass and repass the loveliest women of the world. Beautifully
+clad as the senoritas have been during morning and afternoon, their
+evening toilets excel and crown the rest. White-robed, white-sandalled,
+their brown, bewitching faces peeping out from the lace folds of white
+mantillas, with white shawls, embroidered in glowing hues, folded over
+the arm, and delicate white fans in hand, they look the very poetry of
+maidenhood. Months of saving, weeks of stitching, these costumes may
+have cost, but the _Feria_ is, above all, a marriage mart, and the
+Andalusian girl, usually so strictly guarded, so jealously secluded,
+never allowed to walk or shop alone, is now on exhibition. As these
+radiant forms glide along the avenues, the men who meet them coolly
+bend and look full into their faces, scanning line and feature with
+the critical air of connoisseurs. But well these cavaliers illustrate
+the Andalusian catch:--
+
+     "Because I look thee in the face,
+       Set not for this thy hopes too high,
+     For many go to the market-place
+       To see and not to buy."
+
+The girl's opportunity is in her dancing. Every Andalusian woman, high
+or low, knows the _Sevillana_. Some have been trained in it by
+accredited teachers of the art, but the most learn the dance in
+childhood, as naturally as they learn to speak and sing. They are
+never weary of dancing it, morning, noon, and night, two girls
+together, or a girl and a lad, but such dancing is confined to the
+Moorish privacy of the Spanish home--except in Fair time. Then the
+whole world may stand before the _casetas_ and see the choicest
+daughters of Seville dancing the dance that is very coquetry in
+motion. Rows of girls awaiting their turn, and of matrons who are
+chaperoning the spectacle, sit about the three sides of the mimic
+drawing-room. A dense crowd of men, crying "_Ole! Ole!_" and
+commenting as freely on the figures and postures of the dancers as if
+they were ballet artistes in a cafe chantant, is gathered close in
+front. For their view these rhythmic maidens dance on, hour after
+hour, until their great, dusky eyes are dim with sleep. The tassels of
+curly ribbon, tinted to match the dainty touches of color in their
+costumes, seem to droop in exhaustion from the tossing castanets. What
+matter? For a Spanish girl to reach her twenty-fifth birthday without
+a _novio_ is a tragedy of failure, and these tired dancers are well
+aware that _caballeros_ are making the rounds from _caseta_ to
+_caseta_, on purpose to select a wife.
+
+In Gypsy Lane there is no sugar coating. The Flamenco dances are
+directly seductive. The life of the forest animal seems reproduced in
+the fierceness, the fitfulness, the abandon, of each strange series of
+abrupt gesticulations. Yet these gypsy women, boldly as they play on
+the passions of the spectators, care only for Gentile money, and fling
+off with fiery scorn the addresses that their songs and dances court.
+Many a flouted gallant could tell the tale of one who
+
+     "Like a right gypsy, hath, at fast and loose,
+     Beguiled me to the very heart of loss."
+
+Husbands and lovers look on at the dancers' most extreme poses, even
+caresses, in nonchalant security. While one _gitana_ after another
+takes the stage, a crescent of men and women, seated behind, cheer her
+on with cries and clappings, strummings of the guitar, and frenzied
+beatings of the floor with staff and stool. Yet their excitement, even
+at its apparent height, never sweeps them out of their crafty selves.
+Beyond the dancer they see the audience. Disdain and dislike are in
+the atmosphere, and never more than when the rain of silver is at its
+richest. Still they follow the gypsy law, "To cheat and rob the
+stranger always and ever, and be true only to our own blood."
+
+  [Illustration: THE PASSING OF THE PAGEANTS]
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+THE ROUTE OF THE SILVER FLEETS
+
+     "Paul, the Physician, to Cristobal Colombo, greeting. I
+     perceive your magnificent and great desire to find a way to
+     where the spices grow."
+
+     "And thus leade they their lyves in fullfilling the holy
+     hunger of golde. But the more they fill their handes with
+     finding, the more increaseth their covetous desire."
+                                    --_Decades in the New Worlde._
+
+
+I wanted to go from Seville to Cadiz by water. I longed to sail by the
+"Silver Road" in the wake of the silver fleets. The little artist, as
+befitted her youth, preferred a Manila shawl to that historic
+pilgrimage. So I proposed to make this trifling trip alone.
+
+Don Jose was shocked. Merriest and most indulgent of hosts, he was
+inclined at this point to play the tyrant. If I must see Cadiz, well
+and good. He would take me to the morning express and put me under
+charge of the conductor. At Utrera, an hour farther on, his son would
+come to the train and see that all was well. At _Puerto de Santa
+Maria_, another hour distant, I should be met by a trusted friend of
+the family, who would transfer me to another train and another
+conductor, and so speed me for my third hour to Cadiz, where I should
+be greeted by a relative of mine hostess and conveyed in safety to his
+home.
+
+I appreciated the kindness involved in this very Andalusian
+programme, but otherwise it did not appeal to me. That was not the way
+Columbus went, nor Cortes. And much as I delighted in the Alhambra,
+and the Mosque of Cordova, and the Alcazar of Seville, I did not feel
+called upon to bow a New England bonnet beneath the Moorish yoke.
+
+Thus Don Jose and I found ourselves quietly engaged in an
+Hispano-American contest. He heartily disapproved of my going, even by
+train. "_Una senora sola!_ It is not the custom in Andalusia." His
+plan of campaign consisted in deferring the arrangements from day to
+day. "_Manana!_" Whenever I attempted to set a time for departure he
+blandly assented, and presently projected some irresistibly attractive
+excursion for that very date. His household were all with him. His
+wife had not been able to procure the particular _dulces_
+indispensable to a traveller's luncheon. Even my faithless comrade,
+draped in her flower-garden shawl, practised the steps of a
+_seguidilla_ to the rattle of the castanets and laughed at my defeats.
+
+At last, grown desperate, I suavely announced at the Sunday dinner
+table that I was going to Cadiz that week. My host said, "_Bueno!_"
+and my hostess, "_Muy bien!_" But there was no surrender in their
+tones. On Monday, instead of writing the requisite notes to these
+relays of protectors along the route, Don Jose took us himself, on a
+mimic steamboat, for a judicious distance down the Guadalquivir.
+Tuesday he put me off with Roman ruins, and Wednesday with a private
+gallery of Murillos. By Thursday I grew insistent, and, with shrug and
+sigh, he finally consented to my going by train on Friday. I still
+urged the boat, but he heaped up a thousand difficulties. There wasn't
+any; it would be overcrowded; I should be seasick; the boat would
+arrive, wherever it might arrive, too late for my train, whatever my
+train might be. Compromise is always becoming, and I agreed to take
+the nine o'clock express in the morning.
+
+After the extended Spanish farewells, for to kiss on both cheeks and
+be kissed on both cheeks down a long feminine line, mother, daughters,
+and maid-servants, is no hasty ceremony, I sallied forth at half-past
+eight with Don Jose in attendance. He called a cab, but in Spain the
+cabbies are men and brothers, and this one, on learning our
+destination, declared that the train did not start until half-past
+nine and it was much better for a lady to wait _en casa_ than at the
+depot. This additional guardianship goaded me to active remonstrance.
+Why not take the cab for the hour and look up a procession on our way
+to the station? There are always processions in Seville. This appealed
+to both the pleasure-loving Spaniards, and we drove into the palmy
+_Plaza de San Fernando_, where an array of military bands was
+serenading some civic dignitary.
+
+The music was of the best, and we fell in with the large and varied
+retinue that escorted the musicians to the palace of the archbishop.
+As they were rousing him from his reverend slumbers with _La Marcha de
+Cadiz_, I caught a twinkle in Don Jose's eye. Did he hope to keep me
+chasing after those bands all the forenoon? I awakened the cabman,
+whom the music had lulled into the easy Andalusian doze, and we
+clattered off to the station. Of all silent and forsaken places! I
+looked suspiciously at Don Jose, whose swarthy countenance wore an
+overdone expression of innocent surprise. A solitary official
+sauntered out.
+
+"Good morning, senor! Is the express gone?" asked the driver.
+
+"Good morning, senor! There isn't any express to-day," was the reply.
+"The express runs only Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays."
+
+"What a pity," cooed Don Jose, contentedly. "You will have to wait
+till to-morrow."
+
+"Yes, you can go to-morrow," indulgently added the driver, and the
+official chimed sweetly in, "_Manana por la manana!_"
+
+"But is there no other train to-day?" I asked.
+
+The official admitted that there was one at three o'clock. Don Jose
+gave him a reproachful glance.
+
+"But you do not want to go by train," said my ingenious host. "Perhaps
+to-morrow you can go by steamboat."
+
+"Perhaps I can go by steamboat now," I returned, seizing my
+opportunity. "When does that boat start?"
+
+Nobody knew. I asked the cabman to drive us to the Golden Tower, off
+which sea-going vessels usually anchor. Don Jose fell back in his
+seat, exhausted.
+
+The cabman drove so fast, for Seville, that we ran into a donkey and
+made a paralyzed beggar jump, but we reached the river in time to see
+a small steamer just in the act of swinging loose from the pier. In
+the excitement of the moment Don Jose forgot everything save the
+necessity of properly presenting me to the captain, and I, for my
+part, was absorbed in the ecstasy of sailing from the foot of the
+Golden Tower along the Silver Road.
+
+It was not until a rod of water lay between boat and wharf that the
+captain shouted to Don Jose, who struck an attitude of utter
+consternation, that this craft went only to Bonanza, and no
+connection could be made from there to Cadiz until the following
+afternoon. And I, mindful of the austere dignity that befitted these
+critical circumstances, could not even laugh.
+
+It was a dirty little boat, with a malodorous cargo of fish, and for
+passengers two soldiers, two peasants, and a commercial traveller. But
+what of that? I was sailing on a treasure ship of the Indies, one of
+those lofty galleons of Spain, "rowed by thrice one hundred slaves and
+gay with streamers, banners, music," that had delivered at the Golden
+Tower her tribute from the hoard of the Incas, and was proudly bearing
+back to the open roads of Cadiz.
+
+We dropped down past a noble line of deep-sea merchantmen, from
+Marseilles, Hamburg, and far-away ports of Norway and Sweden. We
+passed fishing boats casting their nets, and met a stately Spanish
+bark, the _Calderon_. On the shores we caught glimpses of orange grove
+and olive orchard, lines of osiers and white poplars, and we paused at
+the little town of Coria, famous for its earthen jars, to land one of
+our peasants, while a jolly priest, whose plain black garb was
+relieved by a vermilion parasol, tossed down cigars to his friends
+among the sailors.
+
+Then our galleon pursued her course into the flat and desolate regions
+of the _marismas_. These great salt marshes of the Guadalquivir,
+scarcely more than a bog in winter, serve as pasture for herds of
+hardy sheep and for those droves of mighty bulls bred in Andalusia to
+die in the arenas of all Spain. For long stretches the green bank
+would be lined with the glorious creatures, standing like ebony
+statues deep amid the reeds, some entirely black, and many black with
+slight markings of white. The Guadalquivir intersects in triple
+channel this unpeopled waste, concerning whose profusion of plant life
+and animal life English hunters tell strange tales. They report flocks
+of rosy flamingoes, three hundred or five hundred in a column,
+"glinting in the sunshine like a pink cloud," and muddy islets studded
+thick with colonies of flamingo nests. Most wonderful of all, the
+camel, that ancient and serious beast of burden, a figure pertaining
+in all imaginations to the arid, sandy desert, keeps holiday in these
+huge swamps. It seems that, in 1829, a herd of camels was brought into
+the province of Cadiz, from the Canaries, for transport service in
+road-building and the like, and for trial in agriculture. But the
+peculiar distaste of horses for these humpy monsters spoiled the
+scheme, and the camels, increased to some eighty in number, took
+merrily to the marshes, where, in defiance of all caravan tradition,
+they thrive in aquatic liberty. The fascination of this wilderness
+reached even the dingy steamer deck. Gulls, ducks, and all manner of
+wild fowl flashed in the sunshine, which often made the winding river,
+as tawny as our James, sparkle like liquid gold.
+
+If only it had been gold indeed, and had kept the traceries of the
+Roman keels that have traversed it, the Vandal swords whose red it has
+washed away, the Moorish faces it has mirrored, the Spanish--
+
+"_Usted come?_"
+
+It might have been Cortes who was offering that bowl of _puchero_, but
+no! Cortes would have mixed it in his plumy helmet and stirred it with
+that thin, keen sword one may see in the Madrid _Armeria_. This was a
+barefooted cabin boy, in blue linen blouse and patched blue trousers,
+with a scarlet cloth cap tied over his head by means of an
+orange-colored handkerchief. The dancing eyes that lit his shy brown
+face had sea blues in them. He was a winsome little fellow enough, but
+I did not incline to his cookery. While I was watching river, shores,
+and herds and chatting with the _simpatico_ sailor, who, taking his
+cue from my look, expressed the deepest abhorrence of the bull-fights,
+which, I make no doubt, he would sell his dinner, jacket, bed, even
+his guitar, to see, I had taken secret note of the cuisine. This
+child, who could not have counted his twelfth birthday, kindled the
+fire in a flimsy tin pail, lined with broken bricks. He cracked over
+his knee a few pieces of driftwood, mixed the fragments with bits of
+coal which he shook out of a sheepskin bottle, doused oil over the
+whole, and cheerfully applied the match, while the commercial
+traveller hastily drew up a bucket of water to have on hand for
+emergencies. Then the boy, with excellent intentions in the way of
+neatness, whisked his blackened hands across the rough end of a rope
+and plunged them into the pot of _garbanzos_, to which he added beans,
+cabbage, remnants of fried fish, and other sundries at his young
+discretion. And while the mess was simmering, he squatted down on the
+deck, with his grimy little feet in his fists, rocking himself back
+and forth to his own wild Malaga songs, and occasionally disengaging
+one hand or the other to plunge it into the pot after a tasty morsel.
+
+"Will you eat?" he repeated manfully, reddening under the scrutiny of
+stranger eyes.
+
+"Many thanks! May it profit yourself!"
+
+I opened my luncheon, and again we exchanged these fixed phrases of
+Spanish etiquette, although after the refusals enjoined by code of
+courtesy, the boy was finally induced to relieve me of my more
+indigestible goodies.
+
+"Did you ever hear of Columbus?" I asked, as we munched chestnut cakes
+together, leaning on the rail.
+
+"No, senora," he replied, with another blush, "I have heard of
+nothing. I know little. I am of very small account. I cook and sing. I
+am good for nothing more."
+
+And is it to this those arrogant Spanish boasts, which rang like
+trumpets up and down the Guadalquivir, have come at last!
+
+We were in the heart of a perfect sapphire day. The river, often
+turbulent and unruly, was on this April afternoon, the sailors said,
+_buen muchacho_, a good boy. The boat appeared to navigate herself.
+The captain nodded on his lofty perch, and the engineer was curled up
+in his own tiny hatchway, trying to read a newspaper, which the fresh
+breeze blew into horns and balloons. The rough cabin bunks were full
+of sleeping forms, and the leather wine-bottles, flung down carelessly
+in the stern, had cuddled each to each in cozy shapes, and seemed to
+be sleeping, too. The two soldiers, who had been gambling with coppers
+over innumerable games of dominos, were listening grimly to the
+oratory of the commercial traveller.
+
+"No fighting for me!" this hero was declaiming. "In strenuous times
+like these a man ought to cherish his life for the sake of his
+country. Spain needs her sons right here at home. It is sweet, as the
+poet says, to die for the _patria_, but to live for the _patria_ is,
+in my opinion, just as glorious."
+
+"And more comfortable," grunted one of the soldiers, while the other
+gave a hitch to those red infantry trousers which look as if they had
+been wading in blood, and walked forward to view from the bows the
+little white port of Bonanza.
+
+As the boat went no farther, I had to stain my silver route by a
+prosaic parenthesis of land. It was some comfort to remember that
+Magellan waited here for that expedition from Seville which was the
+first to sail around the globe. I think I travelled the three miles
+from Bonanza, Good Weather, to San Lucar de Barrameda in Magellan's
+own carriage. It was certainly old enough. As I sat on a tipsy chair
+in the middle of a rude wagon frame mounted on two shrieking wooden
+wheels, and hooded with broken arches of bamboo, from which flapped
+shreds of russet oilcloth, I entered into poignant sympathy with
+Magellan's ups and downs of hope and fear. The jolting was such a
+torture that, to divert my attention, I questioned the driver as to
+the uses of this and that appliance in his rickety ark.
+
+"And what are those ropes for, there in the corner?" was my final
+query.
+
+"Those are to tie the coffins down when I have a fare for the
+cemetery," he replied, cracking his whip over the incredibly lean mule
+that was sulkily jerking us along.
+
+"Please let me get out and walk," I entreated. "You may keep the
+valise and show me the way to the inn, and I can go quite as fast as
+that mule."
+
+"Now, don't!" he begged, with even intenser pathos. "Strangers always
+want to walk before they get to the inn, and then the people laugh at
+me. I know my carriage isn't very handsome, but it's the only one in
+Bonanza. Just do me the favor to keep your seat a little longer."
+
+I had been lurched out of it only a minute before, but I could not
+refuse to sacrifice mere bodily ease to the pride of Spanish spirit.
+
+Notwithstanding Don Jose's dark predictions, this was the only trial
+of the trip. To realize to the full the honesty, kindliness, and
+dignity of the everyday Spaniard, one needs to turn off from the
+sight-seer's route. On the beaten tourist track are exorbitant hotels,
+greedy guides, cheating merchants, troops of beggars--everywhere "the
+itching palm." But here in San Lucar, for instance, where I had to
+spend twenty-four hours at a genuine Spanish _fonda_, the proprietor
+took no advantage of the facts that I was a foreigner, a woman, and
+practically a prisoner in the place until the Saturday afternoon train
+went out, but gave me excellent accommodations, most respectful and
+considerate treatment, and the lowest hotel bill that I had seen in
+Spain.
+
+San Lucar has, in early Spanish literature, a very ill name for
+roguery, but, so far as my brief experience went, Boston could not
+have been safer and would not have been so genial. I strayed, for
+instance, into a modest little shop to buy a cake of soap, which its
+owner declined to sell, insisting that I ought to have a choicer
+variety than his, and sending his son, a lad of sixteen, to point me
+out more fashionable counters. This youth showed me the sights of the
+pleasant seashore town, with its tiers of closely grated windows
+standing out from the white fronts of the houses, and its sturdy
+packhorses and orange-laden donkeys streaming along the rough stone
+streets, and when, at the inn door, I hesitatingly offered him a piece
+of silver, doffed his cap with smiling ease, and said he did not take
+pay for a pleasure.
+
+Once off the regular lines of travel, however, speed is out of the
+question. I might have gone from Seville to Cadiz in three hours;
+thanks to historic enthusiasms, it took me nearer three days. After
+escaping from San Lucar, I had to pass four hours in Jerez, another
+whitewashed, palm-planted town, whose famous sherry has made it the
+third city in Spain for wealth. The thing to do at Jerez is to visit
+the great _bodegas_ and taste the rich white liquors treasured in
+those monster casks, which bear all manner of names, from Christ and
+His twelve disciples to Napoleon the Great; but mindful, in the light
+of Don Jose's admonitions, that the weak feminine estate is "as water
+unto wine," I contented myself with seeing the strange storage basin
+of the mountain aqueduct--an immense, immaculate cellar, where endless
+vistas of low stone arches stretch away in the silent dusk above the
+glimmer of a ghostly lake.
+
+The train for Cadiz must needs be two hours late this particular
+evening, but my cabman drove me to approved shops for the purchase of
+bread and fruit, and then, of his own motion, drew up our modest
+equipage in a shady nook opposite the villa of the English consul,
+that I might enjoy my Arcadian repast with a secure mind. Jehu
+accepted, after due protestations, a share of the viands, and
+reciprocated the attention by buying me a glass of water at the
+nearest stand, much amused at my continued preference for Jerez water
+over Jerez wine.
+
+One of the Jerez wine merchants, German by birth, shared the railway
+carriage with me for a while, and after the social wont of Continental
+travel fell to discussing the war. "The Spaniards deserved to be
+beaten," he declared, "but the Yankees didn't deserve to beat. They
+were conceited enough before, heaven knows, and now they expect all
+Europe to black their shoddy shoes. Your own country was a bit to
+blame in blocking every effort to keep them in their place."
+
+I felt it time to explain that I was not English, but American. Much
+disconcerted, he did his best to make amends.
+
+"I wouldn't have said that for the world if I had known you were an
+American--but it's every syllable true."
+
+He thought over this remark in silence for a moment, his Teutonic
+spirit sorely strained between kindliness and honesty, and tried
+again.
+
+"I would like to say something good about the United States, I would
+indeed,--if there was anything to say."
+
+It seemed to occur to him, after a little, that even this apology left
+something to be desired, and he brightened up.
+
+"Wouldn't you like some roses? They sell them here at this station.
+There comes a boy now with a nice, big bunch. One _peseta_! I think
+that's too dear, don't you?"
+
+I hastened to assent.
+
+"The lady says that's too dear. Seventy-five _centimos_? No. The lady
+can't pay that. Sixty _centimos_? No. The lady can't afford sixty
+_centimos_. Fifty _centimos_? No. The lady says fifty _centimos_ is
+too much. She will take them at forty _centimos_. Here's a half
+_peseta_. And you must give me back a fat dog."
+
+The boy held back the penny and tried to substitute a cent.
+
+"Oh, sir, please, sir, forty-five _centimos_! There are two dozen
+roses here, and all fresh as the dawn. Give me the puppy-dog over."
+
+But the German, who knew how to put even a sharper edge on the
+inveterate Spanish bargaining, secured for the value of eight cents,
+instead of twenty, his great bouquet of really beautiful roses, and
+presented it with as much of a bow as the carriage limits permitted.
+
+"I meant to pay all the time, you know; but one can always make a
+better trade, in Spain, if it is done in the name of a lady." And he
+added, with that sudden tact which innate goodness and delicacy give
+to the most blundering of us mortals, "If you don't like to take them
+from a stranger for yourself, you will take them as my peace-offering
+to your country."
+
+I was reminded again of my native land by another fellow-traveller--a
+Spaniard of the Spaniards, this time, one of the Conservative and
+Catholic leaders, greeted at the various stations by priests and monks
+and friars, whose hands he solemnly kissed. This distinguished
+personage was absorbed in a voluminous type-written manuscript, from
+which he occasionally read aloud to the band of political confidants
+who accompanied him. It was an arraignment of the Liberal Party, and,
+by way of exposing the errors of the Sagasta government, included a
+merciless resume of the Spanish naval and military disasters, with
+elaborate comparisons of the American and Spanish equipments. He was
+then on his way to join in a consoling pilgrimage to a certain image
+of Christ, which had been cudgelled by a grief-maddened priest whose
+dying mother the image had failed to heal.
+
+These surroundings more or less jostled my sixteenth-century dream,
+but I held to it so stubbornly that, when pyramids of salt began to
+glimmer like ghosts along the way, and a sweeping curve of lights
+warned me of our approach to Cadiz, I made a point of seeing as little
+as possible. It was midnight, but Spanish hours are luckily so late
+that Don Jose's friends were still at the height of evening
+sociability and regaled me with alternate showers of sweetmeats and
+questions. Finally, after many exclamations of horror at the audacity
+of the trip, all the feminine hospitality of the household lighted me
+to a chamber whose walls were hung with pictures of martyrs and
+agonizing saints. Among these I counted five colored representations
+of Christ opening his breast to display the bleeding heart.
+
+The next morning I promptly took boat to _Puerto de Santa Maria_,
+embarked on the return steamer, and so at last found myself once more
+on the Silver Road, entering Cadiz harbor from the sea.
+
+To be sure, the _Montserrat_ was riding proudly in my view, although
+the warships to which she had been used to curtsy in the open roads of
+Cadiz would never cut those shining waves again. The waters were as
+turquoise blue as if they had just come from the brush of an old
+master, and the towered city rose before us like a crystal castle in
+the air. Its limited space, built as it is within great sea walls on
+an outlying rock, which only a rope of sand moors to the mainland, has
+necessitated narrow streets and high houses, whose _miradores_,
+lookouts that everywhere crown the terraced roofs, give this
+battlemented aspect to the town. One of the most ancient and tragic
+cities known to time, claiming Hercules for its founder, in turn
+Phoenician, Carthaginian, Roman, Gothic, Moorish, Spanish, it yet
+looks fresh as a water-lily. I could have spent another three days in
+gazing. And this sparkling vision was Spain's _Copa de Plata_, the
+Silver Cup which has brimmed with the gold and pearls of America, with
+blood and flame and glory. Its riches have taken to themselves wings,
+but its high, free spirit and frank gayety abide. Still the
+Andalusians sing:--
+
+     "_Viva_ Cadiz, Silver Cadiz,
+       Whose walls defy the sea,
+     Cadiz of the pretty girls,
+       Of courtesy and glee!
+
+     "Good luck to merry Cadiz,
+       As white as ocean spray,
+     And her five and twenty cannon
+       That point Gibraltar way!"
+
+But I am bound to add that the cannon do not look dangerous.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+MURILLO'S CHERUBS
+
+     "Angels o'er the palm trees flying,
+       Touch their waving fronds to rest.
+     Bid them give no wind replying.
+       Jesus sleeps on Mary's breast.
+     Blessed angels, hold the peeping
+       Branches still as altar-place,
+     For the Holy Child is sleeping
+       Close beneath His Mother's face."
+                                        --LOPE DE VEGA.
+
+
+Spanish love for childhood, and the precocity and winsomeness of
+Spanish children, impressed me from my first hour in the Peninsula.
+"There is no road so level as to be without rough places," and the
+initial days of my Madrid residence, after my artist comrade had gone
+back to Paris and the spring salons, might have been a trifle lonely
+save for baby society. I was living in a delightful Spanish household,
+but the very excess of courtesy reminded me continually that I was a
+Yankee and a heretic. As time passed, friendship ripened, and it is
+to-day no empty form of words when I am assured that I have "my house
+in Madrid." But at the outset I felt myself not only an American
+alien, but an Andalusian exile. The "only Court" is such a prosaic
+contrast to Seville that my impulse was to betake myself with books
+to the great park of the Buen Retiro, the magnificent gift of Olivares
+to his royal master, and let the Madrid world, at least the adult
+portion of it, go by. For while the larger Madrilenos were busy with
+their own plays of politics, bull-fights, and flirtation, the little
+ones had happy afternoons in that historic park of many a tragedy,
+where convents, palaces, and fortifications have all made way for the
+children's romping ground. Resting on a rustic seat in the leafy
+shade, with the rich, thrilling notes of the nightingale answering the
+bell call of the cuckoo from the deeper groves beyond, I could watch
+these budding Spaniards to heart's content.
+
+It was well to observe them from a distance, however, for their young
+voices were of the shrillest. Among the boys, an energetic few were
+developing muscle by tag and leap-frog; more were flying kites,
+cracking whips, twirling slings, and brandishing the terrors of pewter
+swords; while at every turn, beside some flashing fountain or beneath
+some spreading oak, I would come upon a group of urchins playing _al
+toro_ with the cheap, gaudy capes of red and yellow manufactured for
+the children's sport. The girls were skipping rope, rolling hoop,
+teaching one another the steps of endless dances, and whispering
+momentous secrets in statue-guarded grottos, or thickets of flowering
+shrubs, or whatsoever safe, mysterious nook their fluttering search
+could find.
+
+Here was a school out for its daily airing, a pretty procession of
+rainbow-clad little damsels, marshalled by the black-veiled figures of
+graceful nuns, and pacing with all decorum down a crowded avenue; but
+the moment the troop turned into some sequestered by-path, how it
+would break into a shimmering confusion of butterflies, darting
+hither and thither in those jewel-green lights and sea-green shadows,
+the nuns casting their dignity to the winds and scampering with the
+swiftest! Wandering after I would come, perhaps, upon an open space
+where the smaller boys were gathered, delicate little lads riding
+horse-headed sticks, digging with mimic spades, and tossing big, soft,
+red and yellow balls, while mothers and nurses sat about in circle on
+the stone benches, calling out sharp-toned cautions to their
+respective charges.
+
+And everywhere in the park were toddling babies, clasping dolls,
+tugging at gay balloons, dragging wooden donkeys on wheels, and
+tumbling over live puppies. They were pale, engaging, persistent
+little creatures, with a true Spanish inability to learn from
+experience. I saw one aristocratic cherub, white as snow from
+feathered cap to ribboned shoes, take ten successive slappings because
+he muddied his hands. The angry nurse would make a snatch for the
+naughty fingers, roughly beat off the dirt, and cuff the culprit
+soundly. His proud little mouth would tremble; he would wink hard and
+fast, but there was not a tear to be seen, not a cry to be heard, and
+no sooner had her peasant clutch released him than back went the baby
+hands, grubbing deep into the mire. A gorgeous civil guard finally
+distracted her attention, and the last view I had of the child showed
+him blissfully squatted in the very middle of a puddle, splashing with
+arms and legs.
+
+White is almost the universal wear of the prattling age in the Buen
+Retiro, although now and then some lily fairy would flit by with
+saffron sash and harmonious saffron stockings, or costume similarly
+touched by pink or blue. The Scotch plaids, too, were in favor as
+sashes, and at rare intervals I encountered a tot sensibly attired in
+stout plaid frock. But the white of this childish multitude was
+thickly flecked with mourning suits, complete to bits of black gloves
+and even to jet studs in the collars. Among the sad sights of the
+Retiro was an epileptic boy, led and half supported between two
+sweet-faced, youthful ladies, both in widow's crepe, who screened him
+with caresses as his fit took him and he foamed and screamed in
+piteous helplessness. This pathetic trio, ever seeking seclusion, was
+ever followed by a retinue of idlers, who, for all their intrusive
+staring, were silent and sympathetic.
+
+The nursemaids formed not the least attractive feature of the
+kaleidoscopic picture. Most wore white caps, fastened with gilded pins
+or knots of rose or russet; but the nurses counted the best, from the
+mountain province of Santander, were distinguished by bright-colored
+handkerchiefs twisted about the head. Here, as in the _Elysees_,
+baby-wagons are seldom seen. The nurses carry in arms the black-eyed
+infants, who bite away at their coral necklaces quite like little
+Yankees.
+
+But Spanish traits soon declare themselves. In the centre of the park
+is an artificial pond, where lads in their first teens, too old for
+play, lean languidly over the iron railings, and, while they throw
+crumbs to the flock of forlorn-looking ducks or watch the dip of the
+red oar-blades that impel the pleasure boats, brag of their amorous
+adventures and exchange the scandal of the _Prado_. Sometimes their
+love chat is of sweeter tenor, for many of these schoolboys have
+already spoken their betrothal vows, which the Church will not let
+them lightly break. Spaniards often marry under twenty-one, and even a
+recent wedding in Madrid, where neither bride nor bridegroom had
+reached the fifteenth year, was hardly thought amiss, in view of the
+fact that there was parental money to maintain them.
+
+And why had the stately city of Valladolid been under a reign of
+terror for half the week just past, with shutters up, doors barred,
+and women and children kept at home for safety, while bands of young
+men swayed in bloody struggle through her famous squares and streets,
+but because a cadet and a student must needs lose heart to the same
+maid? Cupid, not Santiago, is the patron saint of Spain. And Cupid,
+for all his mischief, has some very winning ways. Our boyish
+sentimentalists of the Buen Retiro, for instance, easily fall into
+song, and the native melodies, always with something wild and Oriental
+in their beat, ring across the little lake into the woods beyond till
+the birds take up the challenge and every tree grows vocal.
+
+One afternoon, on my way to the park, I bought from a roadside vender
+a handful of small, gaudily bound children's books, and had no sooner
+found what I fondly supposed was a sequestered seat than a tumult of
+little folks surrounded me, coaxing to hear the stories. These tales,
+so taken at random, may throw a little light on the literature of
+Spanish nurseries. There was the life of the Madonna, which we passed
+over, as the children said they had read it in school and knew it,
+every word, already. So we turned to the astonishing career of the
+great soldier, Kill-Bullet, who could easily stop a cannon-ball
+against his palm, and to an account of that far-off land where it
+rained gold in such profusion that nobody would work, until finally
+all the people, weary of a wealth which induced no tailor to stitch
+and no shoemaker to cobble, no baker to bake and no dairy-maid to
+churn, rose by common consent and shovelled the gold into the river.
+We read of hot-tempered little Ambrose, who left the gate of his
+garden open, so that a hen cackled in and began to scratch under a
+rose bush, whereupon the angry boy chased her furiously all over the
+garden-beds until his summer's work was trampled into ruin, and his
+papa came and explained to him how disastrous a thing is wrath. There
+was a companion moral tale for little girls, telling how Inez used to
+make faces until her mamma told her that she would grow up with a
+twisted mouth and nobody would marry her, whereat did little Inez
+promptly reform her manners. One favorite volume, with a cover which
+displayed a wild-whiskered old ogre in a fiery skullcap gloating over
+a platterful of very pink baby, told how good little Violet saved her
+bad sisters, Rose and Daisy, from his dreadful gullet, by aid of an
+ugly monkey, whom her promised kiss transformed into a fairy prince. I
+was glad to find, in that country where so little is done to train
+children in the love of animals, the ancient tale of the four
+musicians, the donkey, the dog, the cat, and the cock, who escaped in
+their old age from the death that threatened them at the hands of
+ungrateful masters and, by a free exercise of their musical talents,
+captured the house of a robber-band, putting its inmates to confusion
+and flight. Many of the stories, indeed, would have been recognized by
+young Americans, but the proportion of saint-lore was larger than that
+of fairy-lore, and, now and then, some familiar property had suffered
+a Spanish change, as the invisible cap which had become an invisible
+cape of the sort used for playing bull-fight.
+
+  [Illustration: THE PAGEANT OF GETHSEMANE]
+
+The nursery rhymes, too, so far as I chanced upon them, were of the
+universal type with Spanish variations. A Castilian mother plays
+Peek-a-boo with her baby quite as an English mother does, except that
+the syllables are _Cu? Tras!_ The father's foot trots the child to a
+Catholic market.
+
+     "Trot, little donkey! Donkey, trot!
+       We must buy honey to please the pet.
+     If San Francisco has it not,
+       We'll go to San Benet."
+
+Baby's toes are counted as the eternal five little pigs, and also
+thus, with a preliminary tickling of the rosy sole:--
+
+"Here passed a little dove. This one caught it. This one killed it.
+This one put it on to roast. This one took it off again. And this
+teeny-teeny-teeny scamp ate it all up!"
+
+Spanish patty-cakes are followed by a Spanish grace.
+
+     "Patty-cakes, oh! Patty-cakes, ah!
+       The sweetest cakes are for dear mama.
+     Patty-cakes, oh! Patty-cakes, ah!
+       The hardest pats are for poor papa,
+
+     "Bread, O God! Bread, dear God,
+       For this little child to-day!
+     Because he's such a baby
+       He cannot pay his way."
+
+The Spanish nursery seems richer in rhymes than ours. Nurse bends
+Baby's left hand into a rose-leaf purse, for example, and gives it
+little taps with one finger after another of Baby's right hand,
+singing:--
+
+     "A penny for Baby's purse
+       From papa, mama, and nurse.
+     A penny, a penny to pay!
+       Let no thief steal it away!"
+
+And then the tiny fist is doubled tight.
+
+When the child, again, is first dressed in short clothes, he is
+propped up in a corner and coaxed to take his first step with the
+rhyme:--
+
+     "One little step, Baby-boy mine!
+       Come, Little Man, step up!
+     And thou shalt have a taste of wine
+       From Godfather's silver cup."
+
+This rhyming fashion the little ones take with them out of babyhood
+into their later childhood. The urchin admonishes his whistle:--
+
+     "Whistle, whistle, Margarita,
+       And you'll get a crust of bread,
+     But if you do not whistle
+       I'll cut off your little head."
+
+The little girl learns the scales in process of rocking her doll to
+sleep:--
+
+     Don't pin-prick my poor old dolly, _Do_
+     Respect my domestic matters. _Re_
+     Methinks she grows melancholy, _Mi_
+     Fast as her sawdust scatters. _Fa_
+     Sole rose of your mama's posy, _Sol_
+     Laugh at your mama, so! _La_
+     Seal up your eyes all cozy. _Si_
+     _La Sol Fa Mi Re Do._
+
+With Spanish children, as with ours, Christmas Eve, or _Noche Buena_,
+is a season of gleeful excitement. They do not hang up stockings for
+Santa Claus, but they put out their shoes on the balcony for the Kings
+of the East, riding high on camel-back, to fill with sweets and
+playthings. Considerate children, too, put out a handful of straw for
+the tired beasts who have journeyed so far over the Milky Way. On some
+balconies the morning sun beholds rocking-horses and rocking-donkeys,
+make-believe theatres and bull-rings, with toy images of soldiers,
+bulls and Holy Families; but if the child has been naughty and
+displeased the Magi, his poor little shoes will stand empty and
+ashamed.
+
+The dramatic instinct, so strong in Spaniards, is strikingly
+manifested in the children's games. These little people are devoted to
+the theatre, too, and may be seen in force at the matinees in the
+Apolo, Lara, and Zarzuela. Afternoon performances are given only on
+Sundays and the other Catholic _fiestas_, which last, numerous enough,
+are well within reach of the Puritan conscience. At these matinees
+more than half the seats in the house are occupied by juvenile
+ticket-holders, from rows of vociferous urchins in the galleries, to
+round-eyed babies cooing over their nurses' shoulders. If the play is
+an extravaganza, abounding in magic and misadventure, the rapture of
+the childish audience is at its height.
+
+The close attention with which mere three-year-olds follow the action
+is astonishing. "_Bonito!_" lisping voices cry after each fantastic
+ballet, and wee white hands twinkle up and down in time with the merry
+music. When the clown divests himself, one by one, of a score of
+waistcoats, or successively pulls thirty or forty smiling dairy-maids
+out of a churn, little arithmeticians all over the house call out the
+count and dispute his numbers with him. When the dragon spits his
+shower of sparks, when chairs sidle away from beneath the unfortunates
+who would sit down or suddenly rise with them toward the ceiling, when
+signboards whirl, and dinners frisk up chimney, cigars puff out into
+tall hats, and umbrellas fire off bullets, the hubbub of wonder and
+delight drowns the voices of the actors.
+
+The house is never still for one single instant. Babies cry wearily,
+nurses murmur soothingly, mystified innocents pipe out questions,
+papas rebuke and explain, exasperated old bachelors hiss for silence,
+saucy boys hiss back for fun--all together the Madrid matinee affords
+a far better opportunity to study child life than to hear the comedy
+upon the boards.
+
+The boy king of Spain is, of course, a fascinating figure to his child
+subjects. We were told at San Sebastian, where the Queen Regent has a
+summer palace, that on those red-letter days when the king takes a sea
+dip, children come running from far and near to see him step into the
+surf, with two stalwart soldiers gripping the royal little fists. And
+no sooner has the Court returned to the sumptuous, anxious palace of
+Madrid, than the boy bathers of San Sebastian delight themselves in
+playing king, mincing down the beach under the pompous military escort
+that they take turns in furnishing one another.
+
+In Madrid, too, the sightseeing crowds that gather before the royal
+palace or at the doors of the _Iglesia del Buen Suceso_, where the
+Queen Regent, with her "august children," sometimes attends the
+_Salve_ on Saturday afternoons, are thickly peppered with little
+folks, eager to "see the king." They are often disappointed, for the
+precious life is jealously guarded, especially while the Carlist cloud
+still broods above the throne. During my stay in Madrid, a man with a
+revolver under his coat was arrested on suspicion in the vestibule of
+the theatre known as _La Comedia_, where the queen was passing the
+evening. Sceptical Madrid shrugged its shoulders and said: "Stuff and
+nonsense! When the Ministers want the queen to sign a paper that isn't
+to her liking, they make a great show of devotion and pounce down on
+some poor devil as an anarchist, to frighten her into being meek and
+grateful." And, in fact, the prisoner was almost immediately released
+for lack of any incriminating evidence. For weeks after, nevertheless,
+the royal movements were more difficult to forecast, and on the daily
+drives the kinglet was often missing from the family group.
+
+But, undiscouraged, every afternoon the children would fringe the
+palace side of the _Plaza de Oriente_, hoping to see the royal
+carriage go or come with their young sovereign, whose portrait, a
+wistful, boyish face above a broad lace collar, is printed in one of
+their school reading books over the inscription, "To the Head of the
+State honor and obedience are due." Expectant youngsters, in the
+all-enveloping black pinafores that remind the eye of Paris, with book
+satchels made of gay carpeting over the shoulder, would shake out
+their smudgy handkerchiefs, often stamped with the likenesses of
+famous _toreros_, and help themselves to one another's hats in
+readiness to salute; but the elegant landau, preceded by an escort of
+two horsemen, dashes by so swiftly that their long waiting would be
+rewarded only by the briefest glimpse of bowing bonnets and of a
+small gloved hand touching the military cap that shades a childish
+face.
+
+It is a pale and sober little face as I have seen it, but Madrilenos
+resent this impression and insist that his youthful Majesty is "sturdy
+enough," and as merry as need be. They say that the buoyancy which he
+inherits from his father is crossed by strange fits of brooding, due
+to his mother's blood, but that he is, in the main, a merry-hearted
+child. Although he has masters for his studies now, his affection
+still clings to his Austrian governess, whom, none the less, he dearly
+loves to tease. When she is honored by an invitation to drive with the
+Queen Regent, for example, Alphonsito hastens to hide her hat and then
+joins most solicitously in her fluttered search, until her suspicion
+darts upon him, and his prank breaks down in peals of laughter. Madrid
+was especially sensitive about him last year, for he, Alfonso XIII,
+godson of Pope Leo XIII, was thirteen years of age--an iteration of
+the unlucky omen that really ought to be satisfied with the loss of
+the Spanish colonies. His mother, in honor of his birthday, May
+seventeenth, distributed five thousand dollars among orphan asylums
+and other charities, and held a grand reception in the Hall of the
+Ambassadors, where the slight lad in cadet uniform, enthroned beside
+the Queen Regent between the two great lions of gilded bronze,
+received the congratulations of a long procession of bowing ministers,
+admirals, captain generals, prelates, and those haughty grandees of
+Spain whose ancient privilege it is to wear their hats in the royal
+presence; but the shrinkage of his realm since his last birthday must
+have been uppermost in the mind of even the young lord of the
+festival. _Pobrecito!_ one wonders what thoughts go on behind those
+serious brows of his, when, for instance, he looks down from his
+palace windows at the daily ceremony of guard-mounting in the
+courtyard. It is such a gallant sight; the martial music is so
+stirring; the cavalry in blue and silver sit their white steeds so
+proudly, with the sun glistening on their drawn swords and the wind
+tossing their long, white, horsehair plumes, that all these tales of
+defeat and loss must puzzle the sore boy heart and cast confusing
+shadows down the path before him.
+
+Little as the Spaniards love the Queen Regent, to whom they cannot
+pardon her two cardinal offences of being a "foreigner" and of
+disliking the bull-fight, they have a certain affection for Alfonso
+XIII, "the only child born a king since Christ." Indeed, Spain seems
+to have been always sympathetic toward childhood in palaces. Enter
+this wonderful _Armeria_ of Madrid, where those plumed and armored
+kings, on richly caparisoned chargers, whom we have come to know in
+the paintings of the _Museo del Prado_, seem to have leapt from the
+canvases to greet us here in still more lifelike guise, albeit not
+over graciously, with horse reined back and mighty lance at poise. Any
+fine morning they may all come clattering out into the _Plaza de
+Armas_--and where will the United States be then? Here stands a
+majestic row of them--Philip II, in a resplendent suit of gold-inlaid
+plate-armor; Maximilian, whose visor gives him the fierce hooked beak
+of an eagle; Sebastian of Portugal, with nymphs embossed in cunning
+work on his rich breastplate; and Charles V, three times over, in
+varieties of imperial magnificence.
+
+  [Illustration: "JESUS OF THE PASSION"]
+
+But opposite these stern warriors is a hollow square of boy princes,
+and of noble _ninos_ whose visors hide their identities in long
+oblivion. The armor of these childish figures is daintily wrought,
+with tender touches of ruffs and cuffs, scallops and flutings and
+rosettes. Often only the upper half of the body is incased in steel,
+the slender legs playing the dandy in puffed trousers of striped
+velvet--scarlet, green, and buff--silk hose, and satin slippers.
+Little Philip III proudly displays a diminutive round shield, with a
+relief of battle scenes in gold. The plate armor of little Philip IV
+is stamped with lions and castles, eagles and spears. And his little
+son, Don Baltasar Carlos, bestrides a spirited pony and wears at the
+back of his helmet a tuft of garnet feathers.
+
+The _Prado_ galleries abound in royal children. This same _infante_,
+Don Baltasar, is seen here in the foreground of a lonely landscape,
+with desolate blue hills beyond and driving clouds above. But all the
+more bright and winsome glows the form of the six-year-old horseman,
+the gold-fringed, pink sash that crosses his breast streaming out far
+behind with the speed of his fearless gallop. Supreme among the
+_Prado_ children, of course, is the little daughter of Philip IV, the
+central figure of the world-renowned _Las Meninas_. All in vain does
+her charming maid of honor kneel to her with the golden cup; all in
+vain does the dwarf tease the drowsy dog. The solemn puss, undiverted,
+will not stir from her pose nor alter the set of her small features
+until the artist, standing half disdainfully before his easel, gives
+the word. She has waited for it now hard upon two hundred and fifty
+years, but the centuries beat in vain against that inflexible bit of
+propriety.
+
+Even the royal burial vaults beneath the grim Escorial have in their
+chill grandeur of marble halls an especial Panteon for babies,
+princely innocents whose lives are reckoned in months more often than
+in years. Gold and blue and red brighten their great white sepulchre,
+and above the altar smiles the Christ Child, with the graven words,
+"Suffer the children to come unto me." But for Alfonso XIII a sombre
+sarcophagus waits in the haughtiest and gloomiest of all the Panteons,
+where only kings, and queens who were mothers of kings, may lie.
+
+It is not royal childhood alone that is dear to this strange,
+romantic, monstrously inconsistent heart of Spain. The cruelty of
+Spaniards to horses and donkeys sickens even the roughest Englishman,
+yet almost every voice softens in speaking to a child, and during my
+six months in Spanish cities I saw nothing of that street brutality
+toward the little ones which forces itself upon daily notice in
+Liverpool and London. Spanish children are too often ill-cared for,
+but despite the abuses of ignorant motherhood and fatherhood, such
+vivid, vivacious, bewitching little people as they are! Enter a
+Spanish schoolroom and see how vehemently the small brown hands are
+wagged in air, how the black eyes dance and the dimples play, what a
+stir and bustle, what a young exuberance of energy! They race to the
+blackboards like colts out at pasture. They laugh at everything, these
+sons of "the grave Spaniard," and even the teacher will duck his head
+behind the desk for a half-hidden ecstasy over some dunce's blunder or
+some rogue's detected trick.
+
+But their high spirits never make them unmindful of those courtesies
+of life in which they have been so carefully trained. There is an
+old-fashioned exaggeration about their set phrases of politeness. Just
+as the casual caller kisses the lady's feet, in words, and she
+reciprocates by a verbal kissing of his hand, so the school children
+respond to the roll call with a glib: "Your servant, sir." Ask a
+well-bred boy his name, and he rattles back, "Jesus Herrera y
+La-Chica, at the service of God and yourself." They learn these
+amenities of speech with their first lispings. I was much taken aback
+one day in Seville by a child of eighteen months. Not in the least
+expecting this infant, whose rosy face was bashfully snuggled into his
+young aunt's neck, to understand, I said to her, "What a fine little
+fellow!" Whereupon Master Roly-poly suddenly sat up straight on her
+arm, ducked his head in my direction, and gravely enunciated, "_Es
+favor que Usted me hace_"--"It is a compliment you pay me." I could
+hardly recover from the shock in time to make the stereotyped
+rejoinder, "_No es favor, es justicia_"--"No compliment, but the
+truth." To this Don Chubbykins sweetly returned, "_Mil gracias_"--"A
+thousand thanks," and I closed this uncanny dialogue with the due
+response, "_No las merece_"--"It does not merit them."
+
+Servants, neighbors, passers-by, beggars, all prompt the children in
+these shibboleths of good manners, adorning the precept with example.
+"Would you like to go with us to the picture gallery this afternoon?"
+I once asked a laddie of artistic tastes at a boarding-house table.
+"_Si, senora_," he replied, whereupon several of the boarders, greatly
+scandalized, hastened to remind him, but in the gentlest of tones, of
+the essential addition, "_con mucho gusto_" to which we were bound to
+reply, "The pleasure will be ours." The girls, even more than the
+boys, are bred in these formal fashions of intercourse. Every morning
+they ask if you have rested well, and express grief or gratification,
+according to your response. In Mrs. Gulick's school, mere midgets of
+six and eight, returning from class, will not close the doors of their
+rooms if you are in sight, though perhaps seated at a reading table in
+the farther end of the corridor, lest they should appear inhospitable.
+On our return from Italica, a thirsty child of seven, heated to
+exhaustion with the sun and fun of that Andalusian picnic, refused to
+touch the anise-seed water which some good Samaritan had handed up to
+the dusty carriage, until the glass had been offered to every one
+else, driver included, leaving, in the sequel, little enough for her.
+On our midnight return from the _Feria_, this same _nina_ of gentle
+memory, staggering and half crying with sleepiness, would nevertheless
+not precede any of her elders in entering the home door. "After you,"
+she sobbed, with hardly voice enough to add, "And may you all rest
+well!" "The same to you," chorussed the adults, trooping by, and her
+faint murmur followed, "Many thanks."
+
+"Shall I give you this fan when I go away," I asked her once, "or
+would you rather have it now to take to the party?" She wanted it then
+and there, but what she answered was, "I shall be best pleased to take
+it when you like best to give it."
+
+You must beware of saying to a little Spanish maid, "What a beautiful
+rosebud in your hair!" Instantly the hand is busy with the pins. "It
+is at your disposal." You hastily protest, "A thousand thanks, but no,
+no, no! It is very well placed where it is." Off comes the flower,
+notwithstanding, and is fastened into your belt. For when the elder
+sister has insisted on giving you (until the next ball) those dancing
+slippers which you so rashly admired, and the sister's _novio_ went
+home the night before without his cloak, because you had approved its
+colors (although he sent his man around for it before breakfast), what
+can the children do but follow suit? Even their form of "Now I Lay Me"
+is touched with their quaint politeness:--
+
+     "Jesus, Joseph, Mary,
+       Your little servant keep,
+     While, with your kind permission,
+       I lay me down to sleep."
+
+The precocity of Spanish children is a recognized fact. An educational
+expert, a Frenchman who holds a chair in an English university,
+assured us that beyond a doubt Spanish children, for the first dozen
+years of life, develop more rapidly than any other children of Europe.
+Yet, although these clever little Spaniards are so punctiliously
+taught to put the pleasure of others before their own, they are
+treated with universal indulgence. Soldiers lining the curbstones on
+occasion of a royal progress will let the children press in beside
+them and cling to their valorous legs, until the military array seems
+variegated with a Kindergarten. My farewell glimpse of Toledo, on
+Corpus Christi Day, makes a pretty picture in memory. The red-robed
+cardinal, who had come to the station to take his train, was fairly
+stormed by all the children within sight, clamoring for his blessing.
+In vain the attendant priests tried to scatter the throng, and ladies
+of high degree, planting their chairs in a circle about the prelate,
+acted as a laughing body-guard. It was all of no avail. The little
+people danced up and down with eagerness, dodged under arms, and
+slipped between elbows. They knelt upon the cardinal's very feet,
+rapturously kissing his red-gloved hand and clasping to their
+pinafores and blouses the sacred trinkets he distributed. And he,
+patting the bobbing black pates, wherever he could get a chance,
+smiled on the little ones and forbade them not.
+
+The affection lavished on children in the household circle is often
+poetic and passionate. I observed one day a brusque young fellow of
+twenty-four, whom we had thought rather a hard, catch-penny sort of
+person, suddenly gather a four-year-old nephew to his heart and cover
+the dimpled face with kisses, while the look in his own black eyes was
+the look of a St. Anthony. I stood once in a crowded cathedral and
+lost all sense of the service in contemplation of an ugly manikin,
+with coarse features and receding forehead, who held a frail baby boy
+tight against his breast. This was a blue-eyed, fair-haired wean, with
+a serious, far-away expression, and from time to time, attracted by
+the gilt of the ceiling, he raised a tiny pink fore-finger and pointed
+upward, while the father's animal face, never turned away from the
+child, became transfigured with love and worship. He took the baby
+out, when it had fallen asleep upon his shoulder, and it was good to
+see that dense throng open and make a lane for him, every man, however
+brutal or frivolous his aspect, being careful not to jostle the
+drooping, golden head.
+
+But Spanish children, so caressed and so adored, are nevertheless
+modest in their bearing, and fall shyly back before a stranger. I
+remember a beaming grandfather displaying to us two blushing little
+men, bidding them open their eyes wide that we might contrast colors,
+turn back to back that we might measure heights, and in various ways
+put their small selves on show, all which they did in mute obedience,
+but at the word of release flew together, flung their arms about each
+other's necks, rolled under the nearest table, and curled up into the
+least possible bunch of bashful agony.
+
+The pictures, frescos, and carvings of Spanish churches often reflect
+the looks of Spanish childhood. The Holy Family gives a wide range of
+opportunity, especially in the ministering cherubs. There is a
+crucifix in one of the twenty-two aisle chapels of Toledo cathedral,
+where three broken-hearted mites of angels, just three crying babies,
+are piteously striving to draw out the nails from the Sufferer's hands
+and feet. Many of the saint-groups admit of child figures, too, as the
+St. Christopher, which almost invariably appears as a colossal nave
+painting, "the Goliath of frescos."
+
+It would be strange, indeed, if children were not beloved in the
+country of Murillo. Spain has let the most of his beggar-boy pictures
+go to foreign collections, but she has cherished his Holy Families and
+cherub-peopled Annunciations. Such ecstatic rogues as those Andalusian
+cherubs are! Their restless ringlets catch azure shadows from the
+Virgin's mantle; they perch tiptoe on the edges of her crescent moon;
+they hold up a mirror to her glory and peep over the frame to see
+themselves; they pelt St. Francis with roses; they play bo-beep from
+behind the fleecy folds of cloud; they try all manner of aerial
+gymnastics. But a charm transcending even theirs dwells in those baby
+Christs that almost spring from the Madonna's arms to ours, in those
+boy Christs that touch all boyhood with divinity. The son of the
+Jewish carpenter, happy in his father's workshop with bird and dog;
+the shepherd lad whose earnest eyes look toward his waiting flock;
+the lovely playmates, radiant with innocent beauty, who bend together
+above the water of life--from these alone might Catholic Spain have
+learned the sacredness of childhood. But Spain first showed Murillo
+the vision that he rendered back to her.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+THE YOLK OF THE SPANISH EGG
+
+     "From Madrid to Heaven, and in Heaven a little window for
+     looking back to Madrid."--_Popular Saying._
+
+
+Few foreigners can understand the sentiment of Spaniards for their
+capital. Madrid is the crown city of Spain, not by manifest destiny,
+but by decree of Philip II, who, as his nature was, better loved the
+harsh Castilian steppe, baked by summer suns and chilled by
+treacherous winds, than the romantic sierras and gracious river
+valleys where earlier royal seats had been established. If in Madrid
+the desert blossoms like the rose, it is a leafless rose, for the city
+has no suburbs. It lacks both the charm of environment so potent in
+Granada and Seville and the charm of ancient story, which these share
+with those other bygone courts--Toledo, Valladolid, Valencia,
+Saragossa. It is not a vital organ of modern European civilization,
+like artistic Paris or strenuous London. And yet it is more
+cosmopolitan, and hence less distinctively Spanish than other cities
+of the Peninsula. It is devoted to the bull-fight and the lottery,
+abounds in beggars and prostitutes, does not take naturally to
+commerce, and is sadly behindhand with popular education. Yet
+Madrilenos cannot be persuaded that the skies behold its equal, and
+even over the Anglo-Saxon stranger its fascination gradually steals.
+
+In the first place, the mirth of the home life beguiles the serious
+foreigner. Spanish households have a pleasantness quite their own. All
+the natural vivacity and kindliness of the people find free play at
+home, where servants sing and children prattle, ladies chatter and
+gentlemen jest, all in an atmosphere of ease, leisure, and spontaneous
+sociability. The father is not preoccupied with business, the mother
+has never dreamed of belonging to a woman's club, the children have
+little taste for reading, and few books to read. So talking is the
+order of the day, and, Sancho Panza! how they talk! Lingering half the
+morning over the _desayuno_ of thick, cinnamon-flavored chocolate,
+into which are dipped strips of bread, two-thirds of the afternoon
+over the _almuerzo_, a substantial repast of meat and vegetables,
+fruit and _dulces_, and all the evening over the _comida_, where soup
+and the national dish of _puchero_ are added to the noontide bill of
+fare, they chatter, chatter, chatter, like the teeth of Harry Gill.
+
+Still, as of old, Spaniards are temperate in food and drink. "It's as
+rare to see a Spaniard a drunkard as a German sober," wrote Middleton
+three centuries ago. They use more water than wine, and although they
+have a grand appetite for sweets, they take them in comparatively
+simple forms. The national lack of enterprise is conspicuous even
+here, for dearly as the Spaniard dotes on chocolate and sugar, Madrid
+does not make her own chocolate creams, but imports them from Paris to
+sell, when they are too hard to eat, at a price too high to pay.
+
+But smoking and talking are indulgences which Madrilenos carry to
+excess. Lounging on the balcony, a gayly painted case of paper
+cigarettes at hand, they will pass hours in bantering their wives,
+whom they worship much as they worship the images of Mary, delighting
+to dress them in fine clothes and glittering trinkets, and expecting
+in return, it is said, their pardon for a multitude of sins. And when
+my lord saunters forth to "rest" in one of the iron chairs that line
+the promenades, or in a cafe window, or at an open-air table before
+one of the frequent stalls of cooling beverages, the women of the
+house flock together in some airy corner, stitching away on their
+endless embroideries, and receiving, with "a million kisses" and a
+chorus of shrill welcomes, the mantilla-veiled ladies who come to
+call.
+
+If the afternoon is frying hot, it is just possible that the
+gallivanting don will bethink himself to send home a tray of
+_horchata_, a snowy, chilly, puckery refreshment, eaten by aid of
+wafers in the form of little tubes that look and taste much like
+wrapping paper. This treat gives fresh animation to the emulous
+tongues. The slightest neighborhood incident, as recounted in such a
+group, takes on a poetic vividness and a dramatic intensity, and when
+it is all told over again at the dinner-table, excitement waxes so
+high that long after the dishes and cloth have been removed the family
+may still be found seated around the board, flashing a thousand lights
+of suggestion and surmise on that dull bit of scandal. The husband
+cannot cease from discussion long enough to read the evening paper,
+nor the wife to send the little ones to bed, and midnight may find the
+three generations, from grandfather to four-year-old, still talking
+with might and main.
+
+Accustomed guests come at once to the dining room, ready to contribute
+their share to the lively clash of voices, or to take part in one of
+the characteristic games of a Spanish family circle, as lottery. In
+this favorite pastime, victory, including a goodly handful of coppers,
+falls to him whose checked and numbered square of pasteboard is most
+quickly filled with beans. These are placed on the squares called by
+the bag-holder, who draws numbers haphazard from his sibylline sack.
+When the small hours come in, the company may adjourn to the sala for
+dancing and music, but conversation under cover of these gushes on
+more impetuously than ever--the Castilian art of arts.
+
+One of the chief graces of the _tertulias_ consists in their
+informality--their frank simplicity. Even on a saint day--a day
+consecrated to the saint whose name some member of the family
+bears--while all the nearer friends drop in for congratulation, with
+perhaps a gift of flowers, in case of a lady, or sweetmeats for a
+child, the _tertulia_ requires no further exercise of hospitality than
+an open door and a feast of words. There is more blithesomeness, for
+_hay santo en casa_ (there is a saint in the house), but no more
+parade, with its preliminary fret and fuss.
+
+The streets of Madrid, too, have a curious fascination. In the morning
+hours there is the picturesque confusion of the market. The donkeys
+are unladen here, there, and everywhere, and the sidewalks and squares
+promptly dotted over with bright little heaps of delicious Toledo
+cherries, Valencian apricots, Murcian lemons, and all the greens of
+the season. The peasant women, squatted among their lettuces and
+cucumbers, seem much more interested in gossiping with their neighbors
+than in securing customers. Babies tumble about, crushing the pinks
+and roses, and cabmen good-naturedly pick their way as best they can
+among these various vegetable and human obstacles. Venders of books,
+too, like to pave the street with rows of open volumes, whose pages
+are soon dimmed with dust, and artisans, especially cobblers, set up
+their benches just outside their doors, and add the click of their
+hammers to the general din.
+
+In the early afternoon the shady side of the street is lined with the
+outstretched forms of workingmen, taking the indispensable siesta.
+Some rest their black pates on arm or folded jacket or bag of tools,
+but plenty of bronzed laborers slumber peacefully all prone on the hot
+paving, with not so much as a cabbage leaf for a pillow. Beggars lie
+along the stone benches of the _paseos_ and parks, cabmen sleep on
+their cabs, porters over their thresholds, and I once turned away from
+a church I had come far to visit, not having the hardihood to waken
+the verger, who, keys in hand, was snoring like an organ, sprawled
+across half a dozen granite steps.
+
+As the cool of evening approaches, the overcrowded houses of the poor
+pour forth entire families into the street, where supper is cooked and
+eaten, and all manner of domestic operations carried on. Before every
+door is at least one black-eyed baby, in a little wooden cage
+something like a churn, with rim running under the armpits, so that
+the child, safe from straying or falling, may be left to his own
+devices. As darkness deepens, out come the stars and the _serenos_.
+These latter, in Madrid, no longer cry fair weather, but they hold the
+keys of the houses--an arrangement that I never learned to take
+seriously.
+
+Returning from visit or theatre in the evening, I found it difficult
+to say with requisite solemnity to the driver, "Would you be so kind
+as to shout for Celestino?" The driver promptly roars, "Celestino!"
+and twinkling lights come bobbing toward us from far and near, but no
+Celestino. "He's in the wineshop," suggests Isidro, whose charge
+begins three houses above. "He's eating iron," asserts Pedro, in the
+phrase describing those colloquies which a Spanish suitor carries on
+with his divinity through the grating. Then we all chorus,
+"Celestino!" and again, "Celestino!" and again, "Celestino!"
+
+At this a cloaked figure comes running across the square, waving a
+lantern over his head and vociferating jocund apologies: "I regret it
+extremely. I am stricken with sorrow. But at the first call I was
+wetting my lips at the fountain, and at the second I was pausing to
+exchange four words only with the lady of my soul, and at the third I
+said _Vamos!_ and at the fourth--look you, I am here." So he unlocks
+the door and lights the stairway with his lantern until I have
+ascended the first flight, when he cheerily calls out, "_Adios!_" and
+shuts me into darkness which I am expected to illuminate for my
+further climb by striking matches.
+
+Madrid streets are by no means altogether delectable. Some are broad
+and well kept, but others are narrow, dirty, and malodorous. Worst of
+all, to my own thinking, is the Madrid stare, which, hardly less
+offensive than the Paris stare, is more universal. It is amusing to
+see how fearlessly a matron of eighteen sallies forth alone, while
+many Madrid spinsters of fifty would not go a block unattended. Nor
+are annoyances confined to staring. Even in reputable shops a woman
+soon learns to be on her guard, when her attention is especially
+called to book or picture, lest it prove "a silliness."
+
+Madrid is better than the cities of Andalusia, and worse than the
+cities of northern Spain, in its treatment of women. A young Spanish
+girl cannot walk alone, however sedately, in Seville, without a
+running fire of salutations--"Oh, the pretty face!" "What cheeks of
+rose!" "Blessed be thy mother!" "Give me a little smile!" And even in
+Madrid, Spanish girls of my acquaintance have broken their fans across
+the faces of men who tried to catch a kiss in passing.
+
+In Madrid, as almost everywhere in Spain, begging is a leading
+industry. So many beg from laziness or greed that it is easy to lose
+patience, the most essential part of a traveller's Spanish outfit. The
+ear is wearied by the everlasting drone and whine: "Oh, dear lady, for
+the love of God! All day my children have had no bread. Give me five
+_centimos_, only five _centimos_, and Heaven will pay you back. Lady!
+lady! lady! lady! Five _centimos_, in the name of all the saints!" And
+the eye is offended by the continual obtrusion of ulcers, cripplings,
+and deformities. No less than Seville and Granada, Madrid abounds with
+child beggars. There were two jolly little cripples on the Prado, who
+used to race, each on his one leg, to overtake me before I should
+reach the Museo steps. Another boy, on whose face I never saw a smile,
+sat at the corner of a street I daily passed, holding out two
+shapeless blocks of hands. By the gate of the Buen Retiro was
+stationed a blind man, with a girl wean on his knee. It was pathetic
+and amusing to see him feeding her the supper of bread and milk, for
+the spoon in his groping hand and the pout of her baby mouth often
+failed to make connection.
+
+The prevalence of eye disease in Spain is probably due to sun, to
+dust, and to generations of poverty. The pounding of a blind man's
+stick upon the pavement is one of the most common city sounds. The
+charitable may often be seen leading the blind across the streets. I
+tried it myself once with an imperious old woman, who clung to the
+curbstone some twenty minutes before she could muster courage for the
+plunge, lecturing me fluently all the time on the dangers of a rash
+disposition. There are, of course, many cases of fraud--cases where,
+when the day's work is over, the blind see and the lame walk. One of
+the popular _coplas_ has its fling at these:--
+
+     "The armless man has written a letter;
+       The blind man finds the writing clear;
+     The mute is reading it aloud,
+       And the deaf man runs to hear."
+
+Yet it is certain that among the beggars of Madrid is a heartrending
+amount of genuine misery. One day I passed an aged _ciego_, sitting on
+a doorstep, in the Alcala, his white head bowed upon his breast in
+such utter weariness of dejection that I paused to find him a copper.
+But better charity than mine came to comfort that worn heart. A lame
+old peanut woman limped up to him, with the pity of the wretched for
+the wretched. She drew from her apron pocket a coin which I had rarely
+seen--_dos centimos_, two-fifths of a cent in value. An Austrian, who
+had lived in Spain four years, told me he had never once encountered
+that paltry piece of money. But she could not spare it all. "Hast thou
+one _centimo_ for change, brother mine?" she asked. And the blind
+man's sensitive fingers actually found in his lean leather purse that
+tiny metal bit, which only the poorest of the poor ever see in
+circulation. He gravely kissed the coin she gave and made with it the
+sign of the cross on brow and breast, saying, "Blessed be this gift,
+my sister, which thy mercy has bestowed on a man of many troubles! May
+our Mother Mary keep for thee a thornless rose!"
+
+"And may God, who sends the cold according to our rags, lighten all
+thy griefs! Rest thou in peace," she replied.
+
+"Go thou with God," was his answer.
+
+Begging was a recognized and licensed industry in Madrid a year ago,
+though a bill of reform, whose fate I have failed to learn, was then
+under consideration. A mother would gather her brood about her and go
+forth for her day's work. They beg up and down their accustomed beat
+during the morning, eat as their gains allow, lie down in the dust
+together for the afternoon siesta, and rise to be diligent in business
+during the hours of fashionable promenade. They stop pedestrians,
+chase carriages, press into shops to torment the customers at the
+counter, and reach beseeching palms through the open windows of cafes.
+Gentlemen escorting ladies are their peculiar victims, for well they
+know that many a man who never gives under other circumstances is
+ashamed to seem ungenerous under survey of starry eyes.
+
+There is only one phrase that will shake off the professional beggar,
+"May God aid you!" On hearing this he makes it a point of religious
+honor to fall back. But as I could not use that formula without
+feeling myself something between a shirk and a hypocrite, I had to get
+on as best I could with the ineffectual, "Pardon me, my brother," to
+which should properly be added _Por Dios_ (for God's sake).
+
+The Spanish mendicant knows nothing of the Anglo-Saxon feeling, "To
+beg I am ashamed." No Rare Ben Jonson has thundered in his ears:--
+
+     "Art thou a man? and sham'st thou not to beg?
+     To practise such a servile kind of life?
+     Why, were thy education ne'er so mean,
+     Having thy limbs, a thousand fairer courses
+     Offer themselves to thy election.
+     Either the wars might still supply thy wants
+     Or service of some virtuous gentleman,
+     Or honest labor: nay, what can I name,
+     But would become thee better than to beg?"
+
+From the Spanish point of view, on the contrary, it is manual labor,
+not beggary, that stains the escutcheon. A German lady of my
+acquaintance said to a strongly built man who was pleading for alms,
+"If you will carry my bag up these stairs, I will gladly pay you."
+Deeply insulted, he folded his cloak about him with hidalgo dignity,
+saying, "Madame, I am a beggar, not a laborer." Certain monasteries
+send out brothers, with plates and bags, on a daily begging
+round--brothers who may belong to the first families of Spain. The
+Church is often cited as indorsing mendicancy. Extolling almsgiving as
+a prime virtue, and itself maintaining a vast number of charitable
+institutions, it has not yet assimilated modern methods of relief.
+
+A favorite story for children, used as supplementary reading in the
+schools, is called "The Medal of the Virgin." This is, in fact, a
+Roman Catholic version of "Fortunatus's Purse." Its small heroine,
+Mary of the Angels, is an orphan, defrauded by a miser of her rich
+inheritance and treated with barbarity by the uncle and aunt for whom
+she is an uncomplaining drudge. But once, in festive hour, they give
+her five _centimos_, which this generous innocent promptly bestows on
+a beggar woman, who holds a baby in her ragged arms. In return, the
+beggar gives the child a queer, old-fashioned mite of a coin, which
+turns out to have the Wall Street quality of heaving up a little
+mountain of gold above itself every hour or two.
+
+Mary of the Angels sallies forth for a tour of the country, pouring
+handfuls of gold into the laps of the beggars who sit at the church
+doors and city gates, until she is escorted wherever she goes by an
+army of the halt and blind singing her praises. At last, having given
+away such Pyrenees of gold that not a beggar could be found in all the
+land for a century to come, the footsore little philanthropist begs
+the Virgin to relieve her of the coin. The Madonna descends in a beam
+of light, the Christ Child smiling from her arms, yet in the radiant
+group Mary of the Angels recognizes the objects of her earliest
+charity. "For I," explains the Madonna, "am the holy beggar from
+heaven. The poor of the earth give me their tears and prayers, and for
+such alms do I hold out my hand to all the sorrowful."
+
+Yet the progressive element in Spain is all the more ashamed of the
+beggars because they are not ashamed of themselves, and a few years
+may see Madrid swept as clear of mendicancy as is San Sebastian
+to-day.
+
+Madrid is such an easy-going city that one hardly realizes at first
+how well it performs certain of its functions. Its water supply, for
+instance, is excellent, although when one sees the picturesque groups,
+with those same clay water-jars over which Rebecca smiled on Jacob,
+lingering about the gray stone fountains, one expects a patriarchal
+flavor in the liquid. The tramway service of Madrid, everything
+radiating from the _Puerta del Sol_, is most convenient, although
+electricity is a little slow in coming to the relief of horse-flesh.
+The shops, fairly well stocked, gild commerce with Spanish graces. You
+accept a chair, you pass the courtesies of the day, the gentleman who
+serves you, often with cigar in mouth, is seldom sure as to just what
+goods he has on hand, and is still more rarely dogmatic as to their
+price.
+
+The tug of war, however, comes in getting them delivered. Ten days
+before quitting Madrid I bought at one of the best of the _librerias_
+a number of books, including several illustrated catalogues of the
+Velazquez sala. These last were pretty trifles bound in white
+parchment, and as I intended them for gifts, I wanted fresh copies.
+"You wish them clean, all of them?" asked the proprietor, with an
+accent of surprise. I replied that I did, and would moreover be
+obliged if he could fit them with envelopes ready for mailing.
+Envelopes he had none, but he promised to tie them up in separate
+parcels. "And books and bill will come without fail this afternoon?"
+He looked pained to the heart. "This very morning, senora. You will
+find them awaiting you on your return." On the third day I sent a
+note, and on the fifth a boy arrived with the bulk of my purchase, but
+no catalogues nor bill. I explained to the lad, who smilingly besought
+me to give myself no concern, that I was on the point of leaving the
+city for good, and preferred not to go away in debt; but the days
+passed, and my inability to extort that reckoning became the jest of
+the household. At last, driven to desperate measures, I went
+through noonday heat to the store, and actually found that
+procrastinating bookseller scattering cigar ashes over a little heap
+of catalogues, while he contemplated the pictures of each copy in
+turn. "Behold, senora," he exclaimed, as serenely as if not ten
+minutes had elapsed since our parting, "here I have for you immaculate
+booklets, stainless, faultless, such as will rejoice those fortunate
+friends to whom you have the amiability to send them. And I am this
+instant about to prepare them for the post with inviolate security."
+
+  [Illustration: "CHRIST OF THE SEVEN WORDS"]
+
+I expressed my obligations, but entreated him to draw up the account
+and let me settle it then and there, as I was within twenty-four hours
+of departure. "And in travelling," I added apologetically, "it is
+difficult to send back money." At the obnoxious word he flung up hands
+and eyebrows. "Senora!" I left the shop, feeling vaguely that I had
+been guilty of a flagrant indelicacy, as well as black ingratitude.
+The catalogues, very slightly wrapped, arrived on the morrow, just in
+time to be thrust into my shawl strap, and I paid the bill amid the
+final agitation, so unfavorable to arithmetic, of porters and
+farewells.
+
+I had worse fortune in trying to subscribe for a certain popular
+periodical. I went to the office in the designated business hours, to
+find that, of the three men who should have been there, one had
+already gone, one had not arrived, and the third had "stepped out for
+a little rest." The janitor left in charge, a sympathetic person who
+could not read nor write, thought if I would return on Sunday at my
+luncheon hour, there might be somebody there qualified to receive my
+subscription and address, but, he sagely added, "in this world we are
+sure of nothing."
+
+Madrid possesses the _Biblioteca Nacional_ with valuable manuscripts
+and something like one million books, handsomely housed, where
+arrangements are made for over three hundred readers, but here, as in
+the other Spanish cities, public libraries in the American sense of
+libraries largely used by the general public are practically
+non-existent. The bookstores, too, except for the latest Spanish
+publications, leave much to be desired. As a rule, one can get only
+the most meagre information concerning texts and editions of the
+national classics, and the supply of new French novels or new German
+plays is far less complete than the stock of Paris gloves and German
+cutlery. This last, so canny have the honest Teutons grown, is usually
+engraved _Toledo_.
+
+In variety of weather, however, Madrid surpasses all expectations,
+furnishing the sultriest heat, the chilliest cold, the dustiest dust,
+and the most prodigious crashes of thunder and lumps of hail to be
+found in the meteorological market, and all these within a few hours
+of one another. But what with fans, _braseros_, balconies,
+_horchaterias_, an army of street waterers, and, most essential of
+all, an inexhaustible fund of good humor, the Madrileno contrives to
+live on friendly terms with his climate, although he dares not lay
+aside his cloak before "the fortieth of May."
+
+Apart from bull-fights and riots, those rages of excitement that seem
+to indicate a periodical fevering of the southern blood, the Madrileno
+takes his pleasures with a dignified simplicity. The city is
+exceedingly rich in open squares, well-shaded parks, and long reaches
+of green promenade, and here, with several dozen cigarettes and a few
+coppers for water and _agraz_, he wiles the hours away, chatting with
+friends and admiring the ladies who roll past in spruce landaus. Over
+the gate of the social paradise of Madrid it must be written, "No
+admittance except in coaches," for a carriage seems essential to high
+life. Liveried coachman, rather than powdered butler, is the _sine qua
+non_. During the hot season this outdoor parade is in gay career at
+midnight, and whole families, babies and nurses included, may be seen
+gathered in festive knots around small refreshment tables, within
+sound of fountain spray and garden music. There are open-air concerts,
+and concerts in smoke-beclouded halls, greensward dances, and dances
+stepped on cafe tables among disordered clusters of bottles and
+glasses, and there is always the theatre, on which your Spaniard
+dotes.
+
+In the winter season there is opportunity to enjoy classic drama at
+the _Teatro Espanol_, where the Bernhardt of Spain, "La Guerrero,"
+supported by her grandee husband, Mendoza, holds sway. When I saw them
+they were using short farces of Cervantes and Lope de Rueda for
+curtain raisers to a romantic drama by Tirso de Molina and a modern
+society play by Echegaray. I saw them, too, in Zorrilla's singular
+dramatic version of "Don Juan," the only play allowed in Spanish
+theatres on the night of All Saints.
+
+From March to November, however, the _Teatro Espanol_ is closed, and
+there is little doing at the _Teatro Real_, an aristocratic temple of
+Italian opera. During the summer season the theatrical opportunities
+of Madrid are mainly limited to the popular _zarzuelas_, or operettas,
+four of which are usually given in an evening. Each theatre offers a
+new programme of these every night, but there is little of literary
+interest except, now and then, a taking trifle from the pen of
+Hartzenbusch or Echegaray.
+
+The Madrid theatre recks naught of early risers. The opening
+vaudeville is seldom under way before nine o'clock; the house is
+cleared after each performance, and often the encores and repetitions
+prolong a popular _zarzuela_ quite beyond the hour limit. On the other
+hand, if the audience is small, the opening piece may be cut down to
+the merest outline. I remember one such occasion when the boxes were
+so empty and the farce so familiar that the orchestra fairly chaffed
+the actors off the stage. "Enough, enough! Thou mayst withdraw!"
+chanted the lyric lover to an intruding servant. "And so mayst thou,"
+called out a voice from among the violins. "I've told my passion to
+the stars," continued the actor in his most mellifluous tenor, making
+the distant love of the Spanish stage to a lady who was smiling
+frankly on the audacious fiddler. "Poor stars!" interpolated this
+worthy so sympathetically that everybody laughed, the singer wound up
+his transports in the shortest possible order, and the remaining
+scenes were hardly more than pantomime. But such was the universal
+good nature and indifference to business exactitudes, that neither
+artists nor ticket-holders took this curtailment of their rights in
+umbrage.
+
+Among the excellences of Madrid must be counted her _museos_. The
+_Armeria_, with its plumed and steel-clad warriors, all at tourney, is
+no mere lumber room of wicked old iron, as might have been expected,
+but a new canto of the "Faery Queene." The _Museo Naval_ still smells
+of the boundless brine and Isles of Spicery. The _Museo Arqueologico
+Nacional_ sweeps one, as on the magic carpet of Alhambra legend,
+through the entire tragedy of Spain. Here are the successive leaves of
+her strange picture-book--scratched, prehistoric flints, grass-woven
+Iberian sandals, rudely sculptured shapes in sandstone grasping wine
+cups that suggest whole Rubaiyats, Phoenician anchors, bronze tables
+of Roman laws, Moorish arabesques, mediaeval altars, modern wares and
+fineries, while barbaric spoils of Peruvian idols, Mexican
+feather-shields, sacrificial stones, and figures of forest lords speak
+to the imagination of that vast colonial empire which rose out of a
+dream to melt again like very dreamstuff, leaving "not a rack behind."
+These I have seen, but there are twice as many more Madrid museums
+which I had not time to see, and which, I am told, are no less rich in
+rarities and no less effective in pictorial beauty of arrangement.
+
+Of the art galleries, who can say enough? The supreme _Museo del
+Prado_ so magnetizes pilgrim feet that it is hard to spare even a few
+hours for the _Academia de Bellas Artes_, with its grand Murillos and
+calm Zurbarans, or the _Museo de Arte Moderno_, with its succession of
+canvases depicting scene upon scene of death, decay, murder,
+execution, starvation, battle, torture, frenzy. Whatever is most
+horrible in the story of the Peninsula--Juana the Mad staring at her
+husband's coffin, the bloody fall of the betrayed Torrijos and his
+band, the nobles of Portugal doing shuddering homage to the exhumed
+corpse of Inez de Castro, all that moves disgust, distress, dismay,
+seems flaunted here. The technique is French, but the subjects are
+Spanish. Many of the pictures have historical dignity and
+faithfulness, a few reproduce the modern national types, with a
+preference for bull-fighters and anarchists over fishermen and
+peasants, but one misses the spiritual beauty that went hand in hand
+with the spiritual terror of the older art. Do the Spanish painters of
+to-day derive only from Goya and Ribera?
+
+The old-time popular ceremonies are fast fading out of Europeanized
+Madrid. Even the Christmas mirth is waning, though still on _Noche
+Buena_ the _Plaza Mayor_ is close set with booths, and the Infanta
+Isabel, _muy Madrilena_ that she is, makes a point of driving through
+and heaping her carriage with fairings. On Twelfth Night, too, there
+are a few small boys to be seen scampering about the streets, looking
+for the arrival of the Magi. Every year drops something of the
+mediaeval heritage, and it has fallen to my lot to chronicle the
+passing of one of Madrid's most ancient and comfortable rites. The
+principal saint days of June, July, and August are preceded by
+_verbenas_, or evening fairs, chief among these being the _Verbena de
+San Juan_, on Midsummer Night. Many a baby has a grand frolic this
+evening, rocked back and forth on his mamma's knees, laughing eyes to
+laughing eyes, while she dips her head to his and tickles his little
+neck with kisses in time to the ancient ditty:--
+
+     "Recotin, recoton!
+     The bells of St. John!
+     There's a festival on.
+     Recotin, recotin, recoton!"
+
+Far along the _Prado_ gleam the busy fires over which are merrily
+bubbling the oiliest and brownest of _bunuelos_. The rows of lighted
+stalls, which have sprung up like mushrooms on either side of the
+promenade, present to the revelling, roving, shifting throng an
+amazing variety of tawdry knickknacks, ingeniously devised to meet no
+human want. As we drove slowly up and down, enjoying the scene, while
+beggars ran beside the carriage and hawkers darted out upon us with
+shrill cries, the "American girl" of our little group strove earnestly
+to find "something to buy."
+
+The most useful and convenient article for a traveller that could be
+discovered was a pasteboard bull's head on a long stick, but her
+chaperon, mindful of trunk dimensions, discouraged this purchase so
+effectively that Little Boston gracefully made herself amends by
+presenting us all with images of St. John. These scandalously
+represented the Baptist as a ballet girl in short cotton-wool skirts
+and gilt ribbons, waving a banner with one hand and leading a
+two-legged lamb with the other.
+
+As midnight drew near, carriages and foot-folk all pressed toward the
+stately Cybele fountain. It seems that there was once, in the _Puerta
+del Sol_, a magic spring whose waters, sprinkled at Midsummer Midnight
+on the most unlikely head, insured a wedding within the year. Trams
+and cabs, riots and bloodshed, drove the precious charm away to the
+_Prado_, even to this same Cybele fountain, which for many generations
+has continued to work bridal miracles. So recently as 1898, as soon as
+the clock in the tower of the stately Bank of Spain struck midnight,
+with wedding cadences lingering in its peal, eager feet went splashing
+through the broad marble basin, and the enchanted water, thrown by
+handfuls and cupfuls far out over the crowd, sparkled even on bald
+pates and wigs.
+
+But alas for Madrid and her Midsummer Night's Dream! Some prosaic
+person got wet and tattled to the Alcalde. So when in natural
+agitation, on our only Verbena of St. John, we had persuaded the
+compassionate coachman to drive as close as close might be to the
+fountain, we encountered a bristling, unromantic railing, and outside
+of this a grim circle of police, frowning menace on that disconcerted
+host. Every moment more carriages, with veiled ladies and rheumatic
+gentlemen, dashed up, and the indignant crowd surged forward to the
+very buttons of authority. But midnight chimed in vain. One desperate
+graybeard vaulted over the railing, only to be hustled back with
+contumely. In general, however, that great press of people remained as
+meek as the lions of Cybele's chariot--a lack of spirit only to be
+accounted for by remembering that this midnight company was made up of
+the shamefaced and rejected, such an assemblage of blighted beings as,
+now that the last spell is snapped, earth will never see again. Even
+the decorous Cybele laughed in her marble sleeve.
+
+So passes the old Madrid; but there is a new Madrid, of which a word
+still waits to be said.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+A STUDY IN CONTRASTS
+
+     "Here you have them, the two Spains, unlike, antagonistic,
+     squared for conflict."
+                                   --_Vida Nueva._
+
+
+The world-old struggle between conservatism and advance is at its most
+dramatic point in Spain. The united forces of clericalism and
+militarism work for the continuance of ancient institutions, methods,
+ideas, and those leaders who do battle in the name of liberalism are
+too often nothing more than selfish politicians. But with all these
+odds against progress, it is making way. The mass of the people, kept
+so long in the darkness of ignorance and superstition, are looking
+toward the light. During my last week in Madrid I chanced upon two
+extreme expressions of these warring principles. The first was a royal
+and religious ceremony, the second a monster mass meeting,--the one
+intent on cherishing the past, the other clamoring at the gates of the
+future.
+
+I was looking over the _Imparcial_ as I took my coffee one morning,
+when my eye fell on an item to the effect that there would be _capilla
+publica en Palacio_ at ten o'clock. A traveller learns to jump at
+opportunity. Public service in the royal chapel promised to be of
+interest, and half-past nine found me waiting, with a miscellaneous
+company of gentles and tatterdemalions, natives and foreigners, on the
+palace side of the _Plaza de Armas_, the expectant throng streaming
+far down the paved and covered way. We were well marshalled by
+soldiers, who kept the crowd in form of a long troop, and banded this
+by military lines, with gleaming bayonets. These bands, but a few feet
+apart, were effectual in preventing crowding and disorder, and when at
+last the doors were thrown open, a double rank of soldiers closed in
+before the portal as often as the entering file showed any tendency to
+press and hurry, and thus passed us through by small divisions, so
+that there was no unseemly struggling on the succession of bare, plain
+stairways that led to the upper galleries.
+
+For "public service in the royal chapel," I was now to discover, does
+not mean that the public is admitted to the chapel itself. This is
+small, but very Spanish, with profusion of gilding, imposing altar,
+and frescoed saints, the characteristic splendor being tempered with a
+no less characteristic gloom, an effect enhanced by austere columns of
+gray marble. On days of public service, which are usually high feast
+days, three long galleries, forming three sides of a great quadrangle,
+are traversed by the court in passing from the royal rooms to the
+chapel door, and it is to these galleries only that the public is
+admitted. On such occasions the gallery walls are hung with richly
+colored tapestries from the magnificent collection of eight hundred
+pieces that enriches the royal _Tapiceria_.
+
+The instant I crossed the threshold these tapestries blazed upon the
+eye, so dazzling in their beauty that it was difficult to grasp the
+general situation. Civil Guards, in gala uniform, each armed with a
+pike taller than himself, were stationed at intervals of about six
+feet all along these tapestried walls, holding the carpeted way open
+for the passage of the royal and ecclesiastical party. The public
+hastened to fill in the spaces left between the guards, so that when
+the dignitaries paced the length of the three galleries, they walked
+between continuous human lines of mingled soldiery and spectators. We
+were of various ages, sizes, colors, and quite as picturesque, take it
+all in all, as the slowly stepping group on which our eyes were
+focussed.
+
+A division of the royal escort, marching with drawn swords, preceded
+the Queen Regent, a slight and elegant figure in white and heliotrope,
+her mantilla pinned with diamonds. She walked in royal solitude, with
+a bearing of majesty and grace, but her face had a hard and almost
+sour look, which of itself might account for her unpopularity. The
+King and the younger Infanta did not take part in the day's ceremony,
+but the Princess of Asturias followed her mother, a fresh-faced girl,
+charmingly dressed in white and blue, with pearls and turquoises. A
+respectful step or two in the rear of her niece, yet at her side
+rather than behind, came in rich green silk adorned with emeralds the
+stout, gray-puffed, easy-going Infanta Isabel, her broad, florid face
+beaming with affability. The guards had passed stern word down the
+line for all hats to be off, but there was no sign of greeting, so far
+as I saw, from the spectators to the royal party, except as now and
+then some happy Spaniard bowed him to the dust in acknowledgment of a
+nod, as familiar as a wink, from this popular Infanta.
+
+The occasion of this stately function was the elevation of the Papal
+Nuncio to the rank of cardinal. He passed in all priestly
+magnificence of vestments and jewels, his red hat borne before him on
+a cushion. He was attended by the chief clerics of Court and capital,
+but even these gorgeous personages were outshone by the military and
+naval officers, whose breasts were a mosaic of medals, and whose
+headgear such erections of vainglory as to hush the crested cockatoo
+with shame. The Gentlemen of the Palace, too, were such peacocks in
+their glittering coats of many colors, their plumes and sashes, gold
+lace and silver lace, that the plump Ladies in Waiting, for all their
+pride of velvet, satin, and brocade, looked like mere hens in the wake
+of strutting chanticleers.
+
+The American mind is ill prepared to do homage to the dress parades of
+European courts, and I laid by the memory to laugh over when I should
+have reached a place and hour where laughter would be inoffensive. As
+the Diplomatic Corps, in its varied costumes, came trooping on, twice
+a whisper ran along the gazing lines. "The Turk!" and the traditional
+enemy of Spain limped smilingly past, a bent, shrewd-faced old
+Mussulman, whose Oriental finery was topped by the red fez. "The
+Yankee!" and Spain's latest adversary strode by in the person of the
+newly arrived United States Minister, decorously arrayed in dress suit
+and a Catholic expression.
+
+The chapel doors closed on this haughty train, and we, the invited
+public, cheerily proceeded to pass a social hour or two in chat and
+promenade and in contemplation of the tapestries. Even the Civil
+Guards unbent, dancing their babies, lending their pikes to delighted
+urchins, and raising forbidden curtains to give their womenkind
+furtive peeps into the royal apartments. Most astonishing was the
+maltreatment of those priceless tapestries. Small boys, unrebuked,
+played at hide and seek under the heavy folds, old men traced the
+patterns with horny fingers, and the roughest fellows from the streets
+lounged stupidly against them, rubbing dirty-jacketed shoulders over
+the superb coloring. The most splendid series displayed was from a
+master-loom of the Netherlands, illustrating the conquest of Tunis by
+Charles V--marvellously vivid scenes, where one beholds the spread of
+mighty camps, the battle shock of great armies and navies, and, like
+shrill chords of pain in some wild harmony, the countless individual
+tragedies of war. The scimitar of the Turk flashes down on the Spanish
+neck, while the upturned eyes are still too fierce for terror; the
+turbaned chief leans from his gold-wrought saddle to scan the severed
+heads that two blood-stained sons of the prophet are emulously holding
+up to his survey, hoping to recognize in those ghastly faces enemies
+of rank; white-robed women on the strand, their little ones clinging
+to their knees, reach arms of helpless anguish toward the smitten
+galley of their lords, who are leaping into the waves for refuge from
+the Christian cannonade.
+
+I wondered how the Turkish Minister liked those tapestries, as his
+stooped-back Excellency passed in conference with a Chinese mandarin,
+who must have studied his costume from a teacup. For we had all been
+hustled into rows again to make that human lane through which the
+Royalties and the Reverends returned from their devotions. I was
+facing a quaint old tapestry of Christ enthroned in glory, with the
+beasts of the Apocalypse climbing over Him like pet kittens, and this
+so distracted my attention that I omitted to ask the amiable Infanta
+Isabel, who would, I am sure, have told anybody anything, what had
+taken place. But I read it all in the _Epocha_ that evening--how her
+Majesty with her own august hands had fitted the red hat to the
+Nuncio's tonsured head, and how the new-made cardinal had addressed
+her in a grateful oration, praising her virtues as manifested in "the
+double character of queen and mother, an example rich in those
+peculiar gifts by which your Royal Grace has won the veneration and
+love of the noble and chivalrous Spanish people, the especial
+affection of the Father of the Faithful, and the respect and sympathy
+of all the world." For her and for the youthful monarch of Spain he
+invoked the favor of Heaven, and uttered a fervent hope that the cup
+of bitterness which this most Catholic nation had bowed herself to
+drink might be blessed to her in a renewal of strength and a
+reconquest of her ancient preeminence among the peoples of the earth.
+
+The most significant expression of "new Spain" that I encountered in
+Madrid was a mass meeting--a rare and novel feature in Spanish public
+life. I blundered upon it as foolishly as one well could. The second
+day of July was the first anniversary of the founding of a daring
+Madrid weekly, the _Vida Nueva_, to which, attracted by its literary
+values, as well as its political courage, I had subscribed. The sheet
+is usually issued Sunday, but as I was on the point of going out one
+Saturday afternoon my _Vida Nueva_ arrived, accompanied by two
+non-committal tickets. They gave entrance to the _Fronton Central_,
+"only that and nothing more." I called one of the pretty senoritas of
+the household into council, and she sagely decided that these were
+tickets to _pelota_, the Basque ball game, played in one or another of
+the various Madrid halls almost every summer afternoon. It seemed a
+little too considerate in the _Vida Nueva_ to provide for the
+recreation of its subscribers, but I was growing accustomed to
+surprises of Spanish courtesy, and tucked the tickets away in a safe
+corner. The folded newspaper rustled and whispered, and finally
+fluttered to my feet, but I was eager to be off, and, after the blind
+fashion of mortals, put it by.
+
+It was my privilege to dine that day with two compatriots, and one of
+these, who knows and loves Spain better than many Spaniards do, began
+at once to tell me of that most unusual occurrence, a Madrid mass
+meeting, to take place this very evening. Of course we resolved to go,
+although my friend's husband was not in the city, and no other escort
+would countenance so harebrained an expedition. For the street to
+which this valiant lady led the way was choked with a flood of men
+surging toward an open door. The hall for the "meeting," a word which
+the Spanish language has fully adopted, was the _Fronton Central_, and
+admission was by ticket. Light dawned on my dim wits, and, while my
+two companions, with dignified and tranquil mien, stood themselves up
+against the outer wall, I besought a leisurely cabman, who insisted on
+waiting to pick up a little ragamuffin clamoring for a ride, to drive
+me in hot haste to my domicile. Here I searched out the tickets, put
+away only too carefully, and took a fleeting glance at the _Vida
+Nueva_, which urged all "men of heart" to celebrate the eve of its
+anniversary by their presence at this mass meeting.
+
+I had not realized that there were so many men of heart in Madrid. The
+street on my return was worse than before. The cabman objected
+strenuously to leaving us in these tempestuous surroundings, and,
+since there were only two tickets, we two elders of the trio agreed
+that the American girl was all too young for such an escapade, and
+forthwith despatched her, under his fatherly care, to the hotel. Then
+came the tug of war. We saw men fighting fiercely about the door, we
+heard the loud bandying of angry words, we were warned again and again
+that we could never get through the jam, we were told that, tickets or
+no tickets, ladies would not, could not, and should not be admitted;
+it was darkly hinted that, before the evening was over, there would be
+wild and bloody work within those walls. But we noticed a few other
+women in the throng, and decided, from moment to moment, to wait a
+little longer, and see what happened next. Meanwhile, we were almost
+unjostled in the midst of that excited, struggling crowd, often
+catching the words: "Stand back there! Don't press on the ladies!
+Leave room!" And when it came to the final dash we had well-nigh a
+clear passage. Our tickets gave access only to the floor of a big,
+oblong hall, closely packed with a standing mass of some ten thousand
+men; but a debonair personage in authority conducted us, with more
+chivalry than justice, to the reserved boxes in the gallery, where we
+occupied perfect seats,--for which other people probably held
+tickets,--in the front row, overlooking all the house.
+
+  [Illustration: MARIA SANTISIMA]
+
+So much for Spanish indulgence to audacious womenfolk. But as to the
+meeting itself, what was it all about? In Spain one word suffices for
+an answer. _Montjuich_ has become a Liberal rallying cry, although the
+movement is not bound in by party lines. It is the Dreyfus _affaire_
+in a Spanish edition. The _Castello de Montjuich_ is a strong
+fortress, with large magazines and quarters for ten thousand soldiers.
+It is built on a commanding height, the old Mountain of the Jews, just
+outside Barcelona, and has again and again suffered bombardment and
+storm. But in this latest assault on Montjuich the weapons are words
+that burn and pens keener than swords. It was on the seventh of June,
+1896, that the famous bomb was exploded in Barcelona. It was taken for
+an Anarchist outrage, and over two hundred men, including teachers,
+writers, and labor leaders, were arrested on suspicion. Nearly two
+months passed, and, despite the offer of tempting rewards, no trace of
+the culprits had been found. In the Fortress of Montjuich the guards
+deputed to watch the prisoners, acting more or less under superior
+authority, which itself may have been influenced by Jesuit suggestion,
+began on the fourth of August to inflict tortures upon the accused for
+the purpose of extracting evidence. The trials were by military
+procedure, power sat in the seat of justice, and innocent men, it is
+believed, were condemned on the strength of those forced
+confessions--mere assents, wrung from them by bodily agony, to
+whatever their guards might dictate. But many persisted in denial, and
+in course of time a number were released, maimed, in certain cases,
+for life. Others were shot, and a score still lay in prison. The
+fortress dungeons are deep and dark, but little by little the cries
+and groans of the "martyrs of Montjuich" penetrated the dull stone and
+sounded throughout Spain.
+
+On the fourteenth of May, last year, the _Vida Nueva_, this bold young
+periodical in the van of the Liberal cause, brought out an illustrated
+number devoted to "The Torments of Montjuich." Other periodicals
+sprang to its support and kept the Government busy with denunciations,
+while they vehemently called for a revision of the judicial process,
+with the hope of releasing the men still under sentence and clearing
+the names of those who had perished. Mass meetings to urge such
+revision, which could be accorded only by vote of the Cortes, were
+held in Barcelona, Saragossa, Valencia, Santander, and other principal
+cities, all demanding revision in the sacred names of patriotism,
+humanity, and justice.
+
+Our Madrid mass meeting was of chief consequence in impressing the
+Government with the weight of popular opinion. The swaying multitude
+was called to order at quarter of ten by Senor Canalejas, who
+introduced a notable array of speakers. There were representatives of
+labor, of republicanism, of the press, a Catalan charged with a
+greeting from Barcelona, the champion of Spanish Socialism, Pablo
+Iglesias by name, and great men of the nation, Azcarate, Moret, and
+Salmeron. Spanish eloquence at its best thrills the blood to wine, and
+the swift succession of orators, fourteen all told, played on the vast
+audience like master artists on a murmurous organ. Yet there was no
+disorder. A generous and grateful hearing was accorded the Count of
+Las Almenas, who frankly declared himself a conservative in politics
+and an apostolic Roman Catholic in religion, but in the name of both
+these creeds a lover of justice and humanity. Since for these he ever
+held himself ready to do battle in the Cortes, he gave the meeting his
+pledge that he would support Azcarate in the motion for revision.
+
+But the wrath and grief of the audience could hardly be controlled
+when one of the released prisoners took the platform to recount the
+horrors of Montjuich. He told of dungeons with earth floor and one
+grated window, of savage guards determined to gain the crosses and
+pensions promised to those who should extract evidence. He told how
+the helpless captives, weakened by confinement, were tortured with
+cords, whips, sleeplessness, hunger, and thirst. Bound as they were,
+water was held before their parched mouths, with the sinister words,
+"Confess what we bid you, and you shall drink." When the famished men
+begged for food, they were answered with the lash, or, more
+fiendishly, with shreds of salt codfish, which increased their thirst
+a hundred fold. One man in his desperation sprang to the lamp and
+quaffed the dirty oil. They licked the moisture from their dungeon
+walls. They thrust white tongues through the grating to catch the
+drops of rain. Soon the guards proceeded to more violent torments,
+wrenching, burning, and probing the quivering flesh with a devilish
+ingenuity of torture, making a derisive sport of their atrocious work.
+One of the victims went mad while undergoing torture by compression of
+the head. Others, on hearing the coming steps of the guards, strove to
+escape their cruel hands by suicide. One drank a bowl of disinfectant
+found in his cell, one beat his forehead against the wall, one strove
+to drive a rusted nail into his heart.
+
+It was a frightful tale to hear. I looked across the hall to where a
+Spanish flag was hung. Yellow wax is funeral wax, and Alarcon, who
+sees in yellow a symbol of death and of decay, laments that it is the
+color of half the Spanish banner. "_Ay de la bandera espanola!_" But
+surely there is hope for Spain, while she has sons who, in grasp of a
+military tyranny which has rendered such crimes possible, contend in
+open field for the overthrow of the "black Spain" of the Inquisition,
+and still bear heart of hope for a white, regenerated Spain, where
+religion shall include the love of man.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+THE PATRON SAINT OF MADRID
+
+     "Labre, cultive, cogi
+     Con piedad, con fe, con celo,
+     Tierras, virtudes y cielo."
+
+
+Spain seems actually skied over with the wings of guardian angels. The
+traditional tutelar of the nation, Santiago, counts for less,
+especially in the south and centre of the Peninsula, than might be
+expected, and was long since officially superseded by the Virgin; but
+cities, hamlets, families, individuals, all have their protecting
+saints. Some are martyrs, some bishops, some apostles, while Cordova
+rests secure beneath the shining plumes of the angel Raphael. Towns
+and townlets hold festivals for their celestial patrons, honoring them
+with fairs, horse-races, processions, dances, and whatsoever else may
+be appropriate to the season and characteristic of the locality, as
+ball games, bull-fights, or even a miracle play. Only Seville,
+mirth-loving Seville, who makes holiday on the slightest provocation,
+can never invite her two beautiful guardians, Santa Justa and Santa
+Rufina, to a jubilee. These holy maidens used to keep a pottery booth
+in Triana, now the gypsy quarter of the city, where, refusing to
+worship the Roman Venus, they won the crown of martyrdom. But their
+industrious habits cling to them still, and, by night and by day,
+while the centuries pass, they uphold the Giralda. An anointed vision,
+like Murillo's, may see their graceful forms hovering in mid-air on
+either side of the famous tower, which their strong brown arms hold
+firm even in tempests. If the ladies should let go, the Giralda would
+fall, and so the Sevillians are driven to the ungallant course of
+ignoring these really useful patrons and gadding off to adjacent towns
+whose saints are at leisure to be entertained.
+
+  [Illustration: A SPANISH MONK]
+
+By the eternal contradiction that prevails in all things Spanish, it
+has come to pass that Madrid, the elegant capital and royal residence,
+is under the guardianship of a peasant saint. Here, in the eleventh
+century, Isidro was born, say the priests, of poor but Catholic
+parents. If not precisely a hewer of wood and a drawer of water, he
+was next door to that humble estate, being a digger of wells and
+cellars. He dug with such piety that God aided him by miracles,
+causing troublesome rocks to melt like wax at the touch of his spade,
+and springs of healing water to leap in the pits of his fashioning. He
+was a tiller of the ground, besides, a hireling farm servant, whose
+agricultural methods, though seemingly irregular, caused his master's
+granaries to overflow. As he went to the fields in the fresh spring
+mornings, the young Isidro would scatter handfuls of seed for the
+birds, saying, "Eat, God's little birds, for when our Lord looks forth
+in dawn, He looks upon us all." And as he dropped the wheat and barley
+in the furrows, ever he murmured, "This for God, and this for us; this
+for the birds, and this for the ants." "For the ants, too?" mockingly
+asked the rustics who planted beside him, but Isidro steadfastly
+replied, "For the ants, too, since they are God's ants, and His royal
+bounty is for all His household." No wonder that the Almighty had
+Isidro's fields in special charge, sending sun and rain in due season
+that the harvest might suffice for every claimant. Such divine care
+was the more necessary, because this dreamy plough-boy spent most of
+his time in the churches, or on his knees in the shadow of the fruit
+trees, until his profane companions called him Lazybones.
+
+Isidro was no effective patron of Madrid as yet, but ran away from the
+Moors, when they invaded the city, finding farm service in a
+neighboring village. Here he married a maiden whose lovely soul,
+according to Lope de Vega, shone through her guileless face like a
+painting through its glass. She was no less devout than her husband,
+and went every evening to trim the altar in a lonely shrine of the
+Virgin. There was a stream to be crossed on the way, and in times of
+freshet Our Lady would appear in person and lead her by the hand over
+the tops of the waves. Such dainty stepping as it must have been! And
+once, when Isidro accompanied his wife, they both crossed in a boat
+suddenly improvised from her mantilla, which was not a thread the
+worse for the experience.
+
+The miracle-working power that developed in San Isidro was first
+exercised, as became a farmer, on suffering beasts and bad weather.
+His early influence over water grew more and more pronounced, rain
+refreshing the thirsty fields at his bidding, and medicinal fountains
+gushing from rocks at the stroke of his hoe. And when, one sunshiny
+morning, his wife let their baby boy slip from her arms into the
+depths of the well and ran in distress to her husband, the saint, who
+for once was working on the farm, did not scold her, as the priestly
+authors seem to think would have been the natural course, but calmly
+said, "My sister, what is there to cry about?" And when, after a
+season of prayer, these exemplary parents proceeded to the well, its
+waters had risen to the brink, lifting the little John, as on a
+silver-tissue cushion, safe to their embrace. Isidro still retained
+his youthful peculiarities as a laborer, often praying all day long in
+the churches, while his yoke of oxen did the ploughing just as well
+without him. On one occasion, when he arrived too late for mass, the
+gates of heaven opened to his vision, as he knelt before the closed
+church door, and he was permitted to witness a celestial mass, where
+Christ was both priest and wafer, with choirs of angels chanting the
+holy service. Even his charities cost him little, for when the _olla_
+of vegetables and fish, that his wife made every Saturday for the
+poor, had all been eaten, a word from Isidro was enough to replenish
+the pot. If he emptied his sack of corn on the snow for a flock of
+hungry pigeons, the sack was full when he reached the mill; and when
+he threshed his master's wheat a second and a third time for the
+beggars, the very chaff turned into golden grain.
+
+His best quality, which almost makes his cult desirable in Spain,
+continued to be his love for animals, especially for birds. These sang
+their sweetest songs as he passed by, and often flew down from the
+poplar branches to brush their little wings against his blouse. And
+he, who had raised his master's daughter from the dead, did not
+disdain to work miracles of healing and of life on maltreated horses.
+Madrid would do well to give her guardian saint a season ticket to
+the bull-ring. Even the despised and cudgelled ass had a share in his
+protection. A sacrilegious wolf that thought to make a meal of
+Isidro's donkey, left to graze outside a church where the saint had
+gone to pray, was struck dead--perhaps by the donkey's heels. This
+kindly rustic, who had separated from his wife for greater sanctity,
+died on St. Andrew's Day and was buried in the cemetery of St.
+Andrew's Church in Madrid. Such sepulture was not to his liking, and
+twice his ghost appeared to ask that the body might be removed to the
+church, as was presently done, all the bells of St. Andrew's ringing
+of their own accord to give it welcome. The tomb immediately began to
+work miracles, and Isidro became such a favorite with the people that
+when, in 1212, a shepherd guided Alfonso VIII, lost with his vanguard
+in the wild passes of the Sierra Morena, to the great battle of Las
+Navas de Tolosa, where the armies of the Holy Cross broke forever the
+dominion of the Moors in Central Spain, nothing would do but the story
+that this shepherd was Isidro himself. Above the tomb of the saint a
+chapel was erected, perhaps by Alfonso, perhaps by _Isabel la
+Catolica_. There seems to be a conflict of authorities here, but all
+testimonies agree that the angels used to come down and sing in the
+chapel Saturday afternoons.
+
+Madrid formally accepted Isidro as patron in the summer of 1232, when
+the labors of the husbandmen, on the point of perishing from drought,
+were saved by the body of the Holy Peasant, which, borne in priestly
+procession, called down floods of rain; but it was not until the times
+of Philip III, some four centuries later, that the actual canonization
+of Isidro was granted by Rome. On May 15, 1620, the _Plaza Mayor_,
+that handsome square which has been the theatre of so many
+tournaments, executions, and _autos de fe_, the scene, two years
+later, of the beatification of Loyola, was inaugurated by a splendid
+festival in honor of San Isidro. From that day to this his worship has
+not waned. The miracle-working bones, which were carried to the bitter
+death-bed of Philip III, and comforted the passing of the great and
+generous spirit of Charles III, are still held to be more potent than
+physicians. Churches, oratories, and chapels have been built to him
+all over the Peninsula, the Franciscan Friars founded a convent of San
+Isidro in Rome, and his name is a part of our new geography lesson in
+the Antilles and the Philippines. Only four years ago his urn was
+borne in penitential procession through Madrid, with double
+supplications for rain on the parched country, and for a swift and
+happy ending of the Cuban war. All priestly, military, civic, and
+governmental pomp went to make up that stately escort, the ladies of
+Madrid showering the train as it passed beneath their balconies with
+flowers, poems, and _confetti_. The saint did what he could. The
+procession had been so skilfully timed that the rains began that very
+night, but the Cuban war was a matter out of his province. His
+dealings had always been with water, not with blood.
+
+There is significance in this devotion of proud Castile to San Isidro.
+Spain is essentially as democratic as America. Her proverbs tell the
+story: "Many a man gets to heaven in tow breeches;" "Do what your
+master bids you, and sit down with him at table;" "Nobody is born
+learned, and even bishops are made of men;" "Since I am a man I may
+come to be Pope;" "The corpse of the Pope takes no more ground than
+that of the sacristan;" "Every man is the son of his own works."
+
+     "Said the leaf to the flower: 'O fie!
+         You put on airs indeed!
+     But we sprang, both you and I,
+         From the selfsame little brown seed.'"
+
+Pedler, porter, beggar treat you as social equals and expect a full
+return of courtesy. It is told in Madrid how a great diplomatic
+personage not long ago was eating his picnic luncheon in a hired
+carriage. The driver, lunching also, leaned back from his seat,
+clinked glasses, and drank the gentleman's health. The dignitary
+glared with astonishment and wrath. "Man! I am the Imperial Ambassador
+of Nation So-and-So." "What of it?" returned the driver, taking
+another bite of his peppery Spanish sausage; "I am the Head Hostler of
+Stables Such-and-Such."
+
+Again and again, in recent times as in ancient, have the rank and file
+of the Spanish nation asserted their dignity of manhood. An edict of
+Charles III, forbidding the Madrilenos to muffle themselves in their
+beloved long cloaks and hide their faces under their big slouch hats,
+raised a furious riot in the capital. Should a king dictate the
+fashion of a man's garments? And when the stupid weakness of Charles
+IV and the baseness of his son Fernando had delivered Spain over to
+Napoleon, when French armies held her fortresses, and Murat, with
+twenty-five thousand troops, ruled Madrid by logic of steel and iron,
+it was the Spanish people who, from Asturias to Andalusia, sprang to
+the defence of a country abandoned by princes, councils, and
+grandees. The Spanish people, not the Spanish nobles, preserved the
+independence of the nation and actually broke the career of the
+Corsican conqueror. The Italian king, Amadeo, so much better than his
+fortunes, was welcomed at Valencia in 1871 with simple verses, spoken
+by a child, that breathe even from their opening stanza this native
+spirit of democracy:--
+
+     "The High Lord of the Heavens
+       Created men one day,
+     All mortal and all equal,
+       All shapen out of clay;
+     For God recked not of nations,
+       Of white and black and brown,
+     But on His human children
+       Impartially looked down."
+
+It is not then so strange as it appears at first hearing that a Piers
+Plowman should be patron of Madrid.
+
+From Alfonso VIII to Alfonso XIII, a matter of some seven centuries,
+Isidro has been in high repute with royalty. The "Catholic Kings" made
+him rich gifts; Philip II, bigot of bigots, cherished an especial
+veneration for the ghostly protector who had brought his delicate
+childhood safely through smallpox and epileptic seizures; the
+passion-wasted Philip IV did him public homage; Charles the Bewitched
+made a solemn progress to his shrine to thank him for recovery from
+illness; even the bright young Bourbon, Philip V, had scarcely arrived
+in Madrid before he hastened to worship the efficacious body of San
+Isidro. The urn has been opened at intervals to give their successive
+Majesties of Spain the grewsome joy of gazing on the bones, and it
+has been the peculiar privilege of Spanish queens, on such occasions,
+to renew the costly cerements. The devotion of the present regent to
+these relics keeps pace with that of her predecessors.
+
+Where royalty leads, aristocracy is swift to follow, and Isidro has a
+gorgeous wardrobe of embroidered standards, palls, canopies, burial
+cloths, and everything that a skeleton could require, but "for a' that
+and a' that" the laboring people of Castile never forget that the
+Canonized Farmer especially belongs to them. His fortnight-long
+_fiesta_ is the May outing of the rustic population all about Madrid.
+
+We will start on this pilgrimage from the _Puerta del Sol_, because
+everything in Madrid starts from the _Puerta del Sol_. From this great
+open parallelogram in the centre of the city, surrounded by lofty
+hotels and Government buildings, bordered with shops and cafes,
+brightened with fountains, thronged with trams, carriages, people,
+always humming with voices, always surging with movement, run ten of
+the principal streets of the capital. The _Alcala_, most fashionable
+of promenades, and _San Jeronimo_, beloved of wealthy shoppers,
+conduct to the noble reaches of parks and _paseos_ in the east; the
+handsome _Arenal_ and historic _Calle Mayor_ lead west to the royal
+palace, with its extensive gardens known as the _Campo del Moro_;
+_Montera_, with two less elegant avenues, points to the north, where
+one may find the university, the Protestant churches, and the tragic
+site of the _Quemadero_; and three corresponding streets open the way
+to the south, with its factories, hospitals, old churches, and
+world-famed _Rastro_, or rag fair.
+
+  [Illustration: A SEVILLE STREET]
+
+But during the early days of the _Romeria_, which begins on May 15,
+all the throbbing tide of life pours toward the southwest, for the
+goal of the pilgrimage, the Hermitage of San Isidro, built over one of
+his miraculous wells by the empress of Charles I, in gratitude for a
+cure experienced by her august husband after drinking of the waters,
+stands on the farther bank of the Manzanares. The trams, literally
+heaped with clinging humanity, pass out by the _Calle Mayor_ and cross
+the _Plaza Mayor_. The innumerable 'buses and cabs make a shorter cut,
+but all varieties of vehicle are soon wedged together in the broad
+thoroughfare of Toledo. Here we pass the big granite church of San
+Isidro el Real, once in possession of the Jesuits, but on their
+expulsion from Spain, in 1767, consecrated to the Santo Labrador. His
+body was borne thither, with all solemn ceremonial, from the chapel in
+St. Andrew's; and his poor wife, who had also been sainted, by a
+courteous Spanish afterthought, under the attractive title of _Maria
+de la Cabeza_, Mary of the Head, was allowed to lay her celebrated
+skull beneath the same roof,--a greater liberty than he had permitted
+her during the latter half of their earthly lives. The Madrid
+Cathedral, hard by the royal palace, is still in slow process of
+building, the work being hampered and delayed for lack of funds,
+although her Majesty sets a devout example by contributing $300 a
+month. Meanwhile, San Isidro el Real serves as the cathedral church of
+the diocese.
+
+This _Calle de Toledo_, where Isidro dug several of his medicinal
+wells, is always gay with arcades and booths and drapers' shops; but
+now, during the _Romeria_, it is a veritable curbstone market, where
+oranges, sashes, brooms, mantles, picture frames, saucepans, fiddles,
+mantillas, china, jackets, umbrellas, fans, dolls, bird-cages,
+paintings of saints, and photographs of ballet dancers are all cried
+and exhibited, hawked and held under nose, in one continuous tumult.
+
+As we approach the bare mass of masonry known as the Gate of Toledo,
+we cast, for all our festival mood, a clouded glance in the direction
+of the barbarous slaughter-houses of Madrid. Here the stronger beasts
+are blinded by the thrust of darts, and also hamstrung, to render them
+helpless under the deliberate butchery of their tormentors, who often
+amuse themselves by a little bull-fight practice with the agonized
+creatures before striking the final blow--a place of such atrocious
+cruelties that even the seasoned nerves of an Austrian surgeon
+recently visiting it gave way, and he fainted as he looked. There is
+work for San Isidro here.
+
+The jam of equipages on the Bridge of Toledo gives us abundant time to
+observe the statue of the Holy Peasant, in a stone niche, lifting his
+baby from the well, and the companion statue of Mary of the Skull. And
+there is the Manzanares to look at, that sandy channel along which
+dribble a few threads of water--threads that the washerwomen of Madrid
+seek after like veins of silver. Small boys are wading from one bank
+to the other, hardly troubling themselves to roll up their trousers.
+It is said that Philip IV, surveying his pompous bridge across the
+Manzanares, was wickedly advised by one of his courtiers to sell the
+bridge or else buy a river. It is a curious bit of irony to hold the
+festival of the Water Saint beside a river bed almost as dry as his
+bones.
+
+But the crowd has now become so mad and merry that it distracts
+attention alike from architecture and physical geography. Will all the
+dexterity of foot-police and mounted guards ever succeed in
+disentangling this snarl of equipages? Who cares? Everybody is
+laughing. Everybody, too, is helping, so far as lungs can help. A
+daring Aragonese, with a blue and white checked handkerchief knotted
+about his head and a scarlet blanket over his shoulders, tries to dash
+across the bridge and rejoin his screaming children. He stumbles
+before a jovial omnibus, whose four horses, adorned with beribboned
+straw hats, gaze coyly out from under the torn brims like so many
+metamorphosed Maud Mullers. A distant guard roars a warning. The crowd
+bellows in sympathy. A liveried coachman rears his spirited pair of
+bays. A cock-hatted gypsy, with half his tribe packed into his cart,
+tries to follow suit, and tugs savagely at the stubborn mouths of
+mules whose heads are liberally festooned with red and green tassels.
+In front of these safely passes the Aragonese, only to bring up
+against the great wheel of a picnic wagon, whose occupants, mostly
+senoritas in the sunrise Philippine shawls, thrust out their pretty
+heads, all crowned with flowers instead of hats, and rain down saucy
+salutations. The crowd chimes in with every variety of voluble
+impudence. He catches at the long gold fringe of the nearest shawl,
+saves himself from falling at the price of a shriek of wrath from the
+senorita, plunges desperately on, is struck by a cab horse, the poor
+beast being half blinded by the tickling plumes that droop over eyes
+and nose, and amid volleys of ridicule and encouragement reels to the
+shelter of the sidewalk. But a very precarious shelter it is, so
+narrow that the lads are positively obliged to fling their arms about
+the lasses to hold the fluttering skirts back from peril of wheels and
+hoofs. Everywhere what audacity, what fun, what color, and what noise!
+Troops on troops of foot travellers, usually in family groups, and
+often stained with the dust of an all-day tramp! The wives generally
+carry the hampers, and the husbands sometimes shoulder the babies.
+Squads of young fellows frolic along, each with his supply of
+provisions tied up in a gaudy handkerchief. The closer the nudging the
+better they like it; a slap from a girlish hand is almost as good as a
+kiss. Isidro knew all about it in his day. But this clownish jollity
+grows rougher and rougher, and the crack and sting from a coachman's
+whip tempt a reply with the pilgrim's staff. The guards, hoarse and
+purple, wipe their dripping brows. It is early afternoon yet, too, and
+the larking and license are as nothing to what may be expected before
+midnight.
+
+It is a little better when, at last, the bridge is left behind.
+Turning to the northwest, the dusty road runs on beside the river and
+beneath the bluffs lined with rowdyish folk, who shout down greetings
+to their acquaintances and compliments to the ladies, toward the
+_ermita_. A certain Juan de Vargas, riding over this same route one
+day, lifted his eyes to the uplands to see how his farm-hand, Isidro,
+was getting on with the ploughing. Blessed Isidro! Before and after
+went two stalwart young angels, still in shining white, each driving a
+celestial yoke of oxen.
+
+Times have changed. The sight that greets our eyes is emphatically
+human--a great country fair, a pandemonium of rude, good-natured
+revelry. The beggars who have been chasing the carriage, the cripples
+outstripping the rest, thrust withered arms, ulcerous legs, and all
+manner of profitable deformities into our very faces as we alight,
+even clutching at the coins with which we pay the coachman. We make
+our way, as best we can in the rough press, between two rows of
+booths toward the church. There is the usual Spanish variety of penny
+toys on sale--balls, baskets, whips, kites, jumping-jacks, balloons,
+and every other conceivable trifle admitting of the colors red and
+yellow. But the great traffic is in those articles especially
+consecrate to San Isidro--frosted cakes, probably made after the
+recipe of _Maria de la Cabeza_, clay vessels of every shape and size
+for carrying away the healing waters, and, first and foremost,
+_pitos_, or whistles. The priests would have us believe that San
+Isidro was forever droning psalms, but ploughmen know a ploughman's
+music, and the sacred whistles lead the sales in the _Romeria_. It is
+impiety not to purchase at least one of these, and the more devout you
+are, the more _pitos_ will you buy. The Infanta Isabel, aunt of his
+Little Majesty, fills her emblazoned coach every year with these
+shrill pipes in all their variety of queer disguises--fans, birds,
+puffing grotesques, and, above all, paper flowers. He is no lover
+worth the having who does not bring his sweetheart a San Isidro rose
+with a _pito_ for a stem. The ear-torture of an immense fair-ground
+delighting in an infinity of whistles may be left to the sympathetic
+imagination. We cling to the memory of Burns, and bear for his bonny
+sake what we could hardly endure for any such sham laborer as Isidro.
+
+The hearing is not the only sense to do penance in this pilgrimage.
+The Water Saint has never thought to work a miracle of cleanliness
+upon his peasant votaries, and the smell that bursts out upon us from
+the opening doors of the church might put us to flight, were flight
+still possible. But, caught in the human current, we are swept on into
+the gilded, candle-lighted, foul-aired oratory, with its effigies of
+Santo Labrador and Santa Labradora. All day long the imperious ringing
+of the bell at the shortest of intervals has been calling one company
+of the faithful after another up the bare brown hill to that
+unventilated temple. When there is no squeezing room left for even a
+dwarf from the pygmy show, the doors are closed, the bell is silenced,
+and the rustics are marshalled in rapid procession before the altar,
+where they pay a penny each, receive a cheap print of San Isidro, and
+kiss the mysterious, glass-cased relic which a businesslike young
+ecclesiastic touches hastily to their lips. The frank sound of the
+kissing within is accompanied by the tooting of _pitos_ without. We
+stand at one side, looking at the priests and wondering how their
+consciences are put together, but half ashamed to watch with heretic
+eyes the tears of joy, the fervors of prayer, the ecstasies of faith,
+that are to be seen in many of these simple, passionate faces filing
+by. Here comes a little girl treading as if on air and clasping her
+picture of the saint to her lips, brows, and heart with such abandon
+of delighted adoration as one must go to Spain to see.
+
+Released from the Hermitage, we fill our lungs with sweeter breath,
+give skirts a vigorous shake in the vain hope that we may not carry
+away too many deserters from the insect retinue of our recent
+associates, and turn down toward the river. Our short cut leads us
+among heaps and heaps of bales packed with the graceful clay jars. How
+many an anxious mother will trudge her weary miles across this dry
+Castilian steppe, bearing with all her other burdens a _botija_ of the
+healing water to some little sufferer at home! Wonderful water,
+warranted to make whole the lame, the blind, the deaf, the dumb, and
+put to rout all ills that flesh is heir to, especially fevers, tumors,
+erysipelas, paralysis, and consumption! It is as potent to-day as when
+it first gushed from the earth at the bidding of the young Isidro, for
+did it not work a notable cure, as late as 1884, on the Infanta Dona
+Paz de Bourbon, sister of Alphonso XII?
+
+We linger a few minutes at the edge of the bluff, looking down upon
+the animated scene below, from which rises the hum as of an
+exaggerated beehive. The long green stretch of valley meadow is one
+wave of restless color. Thickly dotted with booths for refreshment,
+for sale of the San Isidro wares, for penny shows, farces, wax
+figures, and all manner of cheap entertainments, it still has space
+for dancers, wrestlers, _pelota_ players, for swings, stilts, and
+merry-go-rounds, and, above all, for the multitude of promenaders,
+sleepers, and feasters. The bright May sunshine gleams and dazzles on
+the soldiers' helmets, flashes out all the hues and tints of the
+varied costumes, and even lends a grace to the brown patches on the
+browner tents. The tossing of limbs in the wild, free dances, the
+flutter of the red and yellow flags, the picturesque grouping on the
+grass of families, complete to dog and donkey, around the platter of
+homely fare and the skin bottle of wine--all this makes a panorama on
+which one would gladly gaze for hours.
+
+Going down into the heart of the festivity, the interest still grows.
+We enter one of the cleanest _cantinas_ and invest a _peseta_ in a
+bottle of sarsaparilla, not for our own drinking, having seen the
+water in which the glasses are washed, but as a protection against the
+horde of beggars and the gypsy fortune tellers. It works like a charm.
+As we respond to the whining appeals with the civilities of social
+greeting and an offered glass of our innocent beverage, the ragged
+petitioners are straightway transformed into ladies and gentlemen.
+They draw themselves erect, quaff the cup to our long life and
+happiness, discuss in self-respecting tones the weather and the fete,
+and then, without another hint of solicitation, bid us courteous
+farewells. We mean to take out a patent on the sarsaparilla treatment
+of Spanish mendicancy.
+
+The tent itself is, like the rest, shabby and tumbledown, furnished
+with rough tables and benches, where cadets are playing dominos as
+they drink, and two country sweethearts are delectably eating what
+appears to be a sardine omelette off the same cracked plate. A clumsy
+lantern hangs overhead, racks of bottles are fastened up along the
+canvas walls, and all about the trampled earth floor stand water jars,
+great bowls of greens, and baskets of the crusty Spanish bread. A pale
+young Madrileno drops in for a glass of wine, but before indulging has
+the shy little rustic who serves him take a sip, languidly begging her,
+"Do me the favor to sweeten my drink." The yellow cigarette-stains
+show on his white fingers as he pats her plump bare arm. The child,
+for she is scarcely more, and as brown as an acorn, responds to these
+amenities by giving the smiling exquisite alternate bites of her hunk
+of goat's-milk cheese, while her mother keeps a sharp eye on them
+both.
+
+Comedy and tragedy are busy all about us. A newly arrived family plods
+wearily by in ludicrous procession, headed by a tall father carrying a
+baby and closed by a short child carrying a cat. A showy man of middle
+age, playing the gallant to an overdressed brunette, is suddenly
+confronted by his furious wife in boy's attire, so unluckily well
+disguised that, before recognizing her, he has replied to her rush of
+invective with a blow which bids fair to make one of her eyes, at
+least, blacker than those of her rival. Traditional ballads are
+trolled, popular songs are echoed from group to group, and, despite
+bad odors, fleas, and whistles, we are reluctant to leave. But the
+afternoon grows late, the _Arganda_ and _Valdepenas_ are beginning to
+burn in the southern blood, an occasional flourish of cudgels or of
+fists sends the police scurrying across the field, and, being nothing
+if not discreet, we pay our parting respects to San Isidro.
+
+Coming home by way of the _Prado_ and passing the proud shaft of
+yellow-brown granite that towers far above its enclosing cypress
+trees, as glory above death, we are reminded that this gala month has
+brought another _fiesta_ to Madrid. Every second of May the capital
+commemorates with solemn masses, with stately civic processions, and a
+magnificent military review, the patriots who fell fighting in the
+streets on that terrible Monday of 1808, _El Dos de Mayo_, which
+brought to pass the war of independence. One may read of that fierce
+carnage in the vivid pages of Galdos or behold it in the lurid
+paintings of Goya. To see once is to see forever that line of French
+soldiery, with steady musket at shoulder, but with eyes bent on the
+ground, while they shoot down squad after squad of their defenceless
+victims. In pools of blood lie the contorted bodies, with heads and
+breasts horribly torn by crimson wounds, while of those who wait their
+turn to fall beside them some cover the eyes, one stupidly gnaws his
+hands, one kneels and wildly peers from under his shaggy hair into
+the very muzzle of the gun before him, one flings back his head with a
+savage grin, half of fright and half of courage, one desperately
+strips bare his breast and in agony of horror glares upon the guns,
+but the most are crouching, shuddering, sinking--and all only an item
+in the awful cost that the Spanish people have paid for Spanish
+liberties. The celebration of 1899 was no less brilliant than usual,
+although many of the Madrid papers spoke bitterly of the shadow that
+the disastrous first of May must henceforth cast on the glorious
+Second. It is indeed gall and wormwood to all Spain that the Manila
+defeat so nearly coincides with the proudest day in Spanish annals.
+
+The saint of _El Dos de Mayo_ is Saint Revolution, as democratic in
+one way as Saint Agriculture in another. When these two patrons of
+Madrid understand how to work in fellowship, when there comes a
+Government in Spain that cares chiefly to promote the welfare of the
+laboring people, the world may discover anew the vitality and noble
+quality of this long-suffering nation.
+
+We saw the _Romeria_ once more, driving through late in the evening,
+when the closed booths glimmered white on the silent meadow.
+
+"Yes, it is all a pack of lies," said a thoughtful Catholic, "but what
+is one to do? A man cannot believe in religion--and yet how to live
+without it? The more I stay away from mass the more I want and need
+it. Think of the comfort these peasants take with their San Isidro!"
+
+The moonlight shone serene and beautiful on those patched, shabby
+tents, transforming them to silver.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE FUNERAL OF CASTELAR
+
+     "The death of the Republic will be, for you, for us, and for
+     all, the death of liberty. The death of liberty will be the
+     death of the Republic, and as liberty is the only thing in the
+     world that rises from the dead, with liberty shall rise again,
+     in good time, the Republic."--EMILIO CASTELAR: _Inaugural
+     Address_, 1873.
+
+
+The present state of Spanish politics was amusingly expounded to me by
+a spirited young philosopher of Cadiz.
+
+"In the north," he said, "the prevailing sentiment is for Don Carlos.
+Nocedal is doing all he can to fan it in Andalusia, but it finds its
+natural home in the northern provinces. To be sure, there is San
+Sebastian, where the Court summers, which consequently upholds the
+Queen, and there are Republican groups; but the north of Spain,
+broadly speaking, is Carlist. The centre favors the reigning family.
+Possession is a strong argument, and the royal forces hold Madrid.
+Barcelona is Republican. Those Catalans are always thirsty for a
+fight. But the middle tract of Spain, as a whole, accepts the existing
+monarchy. Castilians are too gallant to strike against a woman and a
+child. The south is Republican. For the best part of the century Cadiz
+and Malaga have stood for revolution. Where was the army of Isabel II
+defeated? And why has the Queen never seen the Alhambra?
+
+"But, let me tell you, these Carlists, these Royalists, these
+Republicans are all fools. If there is anything hopeless in this
+world, it's Spanish politics. All the uproar of the Revolution ended
+in murdering our best man and driving out our best king. For myself, I
+mean to work hard and marry soon, and have a little Spain in my own
+house that shall express my own convictions. My children shall be good
+Catholics, but not superstitious bigots. They shall be well educated,
+if I have to send them to France or England for it. They shall be
+disciplined, but under the law of liberty. And with that I propose to
+be content. All my politics are to be kept under my own roof, where I
+can work my ideas into permanent form. I am sick of the way in which
+Spain boils with ideas that only destroy one another."
+
+This Sir Oracle was two-and-twenty, with the prettiest of girlish
+photographs in his vest pocket, and the smallest of savings in the
+bank, but I remembered his words in the days of mourning for Emilio
+Castelar.
+
+The illustrious tribune, heavy-hearted with the troubles of his
+country, had gone to the home of friends, at a village in sunny
+Murcia, for the rest and comfort that nature always gave him. His
+almost boyish optimism, "_nino grande y grande nino_" that he was, had
+kept him assured of peace even after the destruction of the _Maine_,
+and assured of victory even after the battle of Manila. Hence the
+pressure of fact told on him all the more cruelly. "I die a victim of
+Spain's agony," he wrote in a personal letter shortly before the end,
+and his last article for publication, finished on the day of his
+death, a gloomy discussion of the outlook for the Peace Conference,
+contains bitter references to the national disasters and to the
+ravages of the "criminal troop of pirates in the Philippines."
+
+He died on Thursday, the twenty-fifth of May, within hearing of the
+Mediterranean waves he loved so well, with tender faces bent over him,
+and the crucifix at his lips. The news of his death aroused this
+grief-weary nation to a fresh outburst of sorrow. Some lamented him as
+one of the chief orators of modern Europe, recalling his eloquence in
+the tempestuous times of the Revolution, when he "intoned mighty hymns
+in praise of liberty, democracy, and the sacred Fatherland!" Some
+mourned the patriot, pointing proudly to the honorable poverty in
+which this holder of many offices, at one time almost absolute
+dictator, had lived and died. Some wept for the cordial, generous,
+noble-hearted man, the joy of his friends and idol of his household.
+His political sympathizers bewailed the loss of the Spanish apostle of
+democracy, the lifelong champion of liberty. And many not of his
+following nor of his faith felt that a towering national figure had
+disappeared and another glory of Spain vanished away.
+
+The first wreath received was from a Republican club that sent the
+pansies of memory. Among the five hundred telegrams and cablegrams
+that arrived within a few hours at the country-seat where he had died
+was one from over seas, which read: "To Castelar: In thy death it
+seems as if we had lost the last treasure left to us, the voice of the
+Spanish race. In thy death Spain has become mute. Yet let me believe
+that thou respondest, 'She will speak again.'"
+
+The coming of the body to the capital was a triumphal progress. A
+large escort of friends, who had made speed to Murcia from all parts
+of the Peninsula, accompanied it, and there were crowds at the
+stations, even in the mid-hours of the night, with tears, handfuls of
+roses, wreaths, and poems of farewell. There was often something very
+touching about these offerings. At one of the smaller towns a young
+girl hastily gathered flowers from the garden attached to the station,
+broke off a spray from a blossoming tree, tied these with the bright
+ribbon from her hair, and, clambering up, hung this simple nosegay
+among the costly tributes that already nearly covered the outer sides
+of the funeral car. In another crowded station the village priest came
+hurrying forward, bared his head with deepest reverence before the
+garlanded coach, as if before the altar, and chanted the prayers for
+the dead. Again, a group of workmen, allowed to enter the car, fell on
+their knees before the bier and prayed.
+
+The train was met on its arrival in Madrid by an immense concourse of
+people. Senor Silvela and other distinguished representatives of the
+Government were there, church dignitaries, presidents of political
+societies and literary academies, but, above all, the people. It was
+the great, surging multitude that gave the Republican leader his
+grandest welcome.
+
+This poor shell of Castelar, the man said to bear "the soul of a Don
+Quixote in the body of a Sancho Panza," lay in state through Sunday
+and a part of Monday in the _Palacio del Congreso_. The vestibule had
+been converted into a _capilla ardiente_. Masses were chanted
+ceaselessly at the two candle-laden altars, the perfume from the ever
+increasing heaps of flowers was so oppressive that the guards had to
+be relieved at short intervals, and the procession of people that
+filed rapidly past the bier, often weeping as they went, reached out
+from the Morocco lions of the doorway to the _Prado_ and the Fountain
+of Neptune. Many of the humblest clad, waiting half the day in line,
+held pinks or lilies, fast withering in the sun, to drop at the feet
+of the people's friend. Early on Monday afternoon the doors were
+closed, and by half-past three the funeral cortege began to form in
+the _Prado_ for its four-hour march by way of the _Calle de Alcala_,
+_Puerta del Sol_, _Calle Mayor_, and _Cuesta de la Vega_, to the
+cemetery of San Isidro.
+
+By the never failing Spanish courtesy, I was invited to see the
+procession from the balcony of a private house in the _Alcala_. I
+found my hostess, a vivacious little old lady, whose daughter had
+crowned her with glory and honor by marrying into the nobility, much
+perturbed over the failure of the Queen Regent to show sympathy with
+the popular grief.
+
+"There were one hundred and forty-nine wreaths sent in. The very
+number shows that the royal wreath was lacking. I am a Conservative,
+of course. Canovas was my friend, and has dined here often and often.
+You see his portrait there beside that of my daughter, _la Marquesa_.
+But Canovas loved Castelar, and would not, like Silvela, have grudged
+him the military honors of a national funeral. As if the dead were
+Republicans! The dead are Spaniards, and Castelar is a great Spaniard,
+as this tremendous throng of people proves. There were not nearly so
+many for Canovas, though the aristocracy made an elegant display;
+there were not so many for Alfonso XII, though all that Court and
+State and army could do was done, and the Queen rode in the splendid
+ebony coach in which Juana the Mad used to carry about the body of
+that handsome husband of hers.
+
+"But the people know their losses. Never in my life have I seen the
+_Alcala_ so full as this. Silvela has had to give way, and the troops
+will come--at least a few of them. But not a word, not a flower, from
+the Queen! She sent a magnificent wreath for Canovas, and a beautiful
+letter to his widow. But for Castelar, her people's hero, nothing. Ah,
+she is not _simpatica_. She does not know her opportunities. She does
+not understand the art of winning love. Only a year ago she sent a
+wreath to the funeral of Frascuelo, the _torero_. And everybody knows
+how she hates the bull-fight. But if she could drop her prejudices
+then to be at one with the feeling of her capital, why not now? They
+say she has a neuralgic headache to-day. _Ay, Dios mio!_ I should
+think she might."
+
+Listening to this frank chatter and watching that mighty multitude, I
+was reminded of one of the Andalusian _coplas_:--
+
+     "The Republic is dead and gone;
+       Bury her out of the rain.
+     But see! There is never a _Panteon_
+       Can hold the funeral train."
+
+And this, in turn, suggested another of those popular refrains:--
+
+     "The moon is a Republican,
+       And the sun with open eye;
+     The earth she is Republican,
+       And Republican am I."
+
+But who can understand this ever baffling Spain? After all, what was
+the significance of that assembled host? How far was it drawn by
+devotion to the man, and how far by devotion to the idea for which he
+stood? How far by idle curiosity, by the Spanish passion for pomps and
+shows, and, above all, for a crowd, by that strange Spanish delight
+in _mucha gente_? So far as eye could tell, this might have been the
+merriest of fetes. The wide street was a sea of restless color.
+Uniforms, liveries, parasols, hats, frocks, pinafores, kerchiefs,
+blouses, sashes, fans, flecked the sunshine with a thousand hues. Here
+loitered a messenger boy in vivid scarlet; there passed a waiter with
+a silver tray gleaming on his head; here a market woman bent beneath
+her burden of russet sacks bursting with greens; there stood a priest
+in shovel hat and cassock, smelling a great red rose; here a gallant
+in violet cape escorted a lady flaming in saffron; there a beaming old
+peasant, with an azure scarf tied over his white head, threw an orange
+to attract the attention of a plodding porter, whose forehead was
+protected from the cords binding the boxes to his back by several
+folds of purplish carpeting.
+
+Streets and sidewalks, balconies and windows, all were full, and
+everywhere such eagerness, such animation, and such stir! The children
+sitting on the curbstone rocked their little bodies back and forth in
+excitement. Young mothers danced their crying infants, and young
+fathers shifted the babies of a size or two larger from one shoulder
+to the other. A boy in a red cap climbed a small locust tree, from
+whose foliage his head peeped out like an overgrown cherry. The crowd
+indignantly called the attention of authority to this violation of the
+city laws. A glittering member of the Civil Guard sonorously ordered
+the culprit down. The laughing lad refused to budge, inviting this
+embarrassed arm of the law to reach up and get him. The Guard darkly
+surveyed the slender stem already swaying with the boy's slight
+weight. The fickle crowd, whose every face seemed to be upturned
+toward that defiant cherry, cheered the rebel and tossed him
+cigarettes and matches, wherewith he proceeded to enjoy a smoke. The
+Guard caught a few cigarettes in mid-career, pocketed them, smiled
+benevolently, and walked away. The lad saucily saluted, and the
+multitude, suddenly impartial, pelted them both with peanuts.
+
+Thus it was that the Madrid populace awaited the last coming of
+Castelar. Even when the funeral train was passing, the crowd showed
+scant respect. Not half the men uncovered for the bier, although I was
+glad to see the cherry cap whisked off. And one picturesque gentleman
+stood throughout with his back to the procession, making eyes at his
+novia in the gallery above our own.
+
+The Government, which had finally assumed the charges and care of the
+obsequies, had been remiss in not providing lines of soldiers to hold
+an open way for the cortege. As it was, the procession could hardly
+struggle through the mass of humanity that choked the street. A
+solitary rider, mounted, like Death, on a white horse, went in
+advance, threatening the people with his sword. A division of the
+Civil Guard followed, erect and magnificent as ever, their gold bands
+glittering across their breasts, but their utmost efforts could not
+effectually beat back the crowd. Men scoffed at the drawn blades and
+pushed against the horses with both hands. The empty "coach of
+respect," black as night, its sable horses tossing high white plumes,
+pressed after, and then came some half dozen carriages overflowing
+with wreaths and palms, and all that wealth of floral gifts. The crowd
+caught at the floating purple ribbons, and called aloud the names
+upon the cards; a monster design, with velvet canopy, from the
+well-known daily, _El Liberal_, a beautiful crown from the widow of
+Canovas, and, later in the procession, alone upon the coffin, a
+nosegay of roses and lilies, brought in the morning by a child of
+four, a little "daughter of the people," and bearing the roughly
+written words, "Glory to Castelar!--A workingman."
+
+The train of mourners, impeded as it was by the multitude, seemed
+endless. After the representatives of certain charities there walked,
+in gala uniform, white-headed veterans of war. A great company of
+students followed, their young faces serious and calm in that tempting
+hurly-burly of the street, and after them an overwhelming throng of
+delegates from all manner of commercial and craft unions. Even the
+press wondered that Castelar's death should move so profoundly the
+trading and laboring classes, almost every store and workshop in
+Madrid closing for the afternoon. Then came the Republican committees,
+and behind them the representatives of countless literary, scientific,
+and artistic associations.
+
+At this point in the procession a place had been made for all or any
+who might wish, as individuals, to follow Castelar to the tomb. Some
+fifteen hundred had availed themselves of the opportunity--a motley
+fellowship. The gentlemen preceding, those who had come as delegates
+from the industrial and learned bodies of all Spain, wore almost
+without exception the correct black coat and tall silk hat, and paced,
+when they could, with a steady dignity, or halted, when they must,
+with a grave patience, that did more to quiet the unruly host of
+spectators than all the angry charges of the police. But the fifteen
+hundred showed the popular variety of costume--capes and blouses,
+broad white hats and the artisan's colored cap. Some of them were
+smoking, an indecorum which, by a self-denial that counts for much
+with Spaniards, nowhere else appeared in the long array.
+
+But whatever might be the deficiencies of dress or bearing, here, one
+felt, was the genuine sorrow, here were the men who believed in
+Castelar and longed to do him honor. The impulsive onlookers responded
+to this impression, and more than one rude fellow, who had been
+skylarking a minute before, elbowed his way into the troop and fell
+soberly into such step as there was. Music would have worked wonders
+with that disorderly scene, but the bugles and cornets were all in the
+far rear. The representatives of the provinces, as they struggled by,
+were hailed with jokes and personalities. The chanting group of
+clergy, uplifting the same ebony cross that they had borne for
+Canovas, did not entirely hush the crowd, nor did even the
+black-plumed hearse itself, with its solemn burden. For close after
+came, bearing tapers, a group of political note, closed by Sagasta and
+Campos, and then the chiefs of army and navy, including Blanco and
+Weyler. Behind these walked the city fathers, the senators, the
+diplomats, ex-ministers,--among them Romero, Robledo,--then the
+archbishop, and, finally, Silvela, with his colleagues.
+
+The procession was closed by a military display and a line of empty
+coaches, sent, according to Spanish custom, as a mark of respect. The
+coach sent by Congress, a patriotic blaze of red and yellow, with
+coachman and footman in red coats and yellow trousers, and horses
+decked with red and yellow plumes, looked as if it had started for the
+circus and had missed its way.
+
+  [Illustration: AN OLD-FASHIONED BULL-FIGHT]
+
+The sight of the politicians seemed to serve as spark to the
+Republican fuel. Even while the hearse was passing somebody shouted,
+"Long live Castelar!" but the crowd corrected the cry to "Long live
+the glorious memory of Castelar!" Then came a heterogeneous uproar:
+"Death to the friars!" "Long live the Republican Union!" "Down with
+Reaction!" "Down with the Jesuits!" "Down with Polavieja!" "Down with
+the Government!" "Up with the Republic!" "Long live Spain!" "Long live
+the army!" "Long live Weyler!"
+
+A woman was run over in the confusion and a man was trampled, but the
+procession, aided as much as possible by the Civil Guards and the
+police, slowly worked its way through the _Alcala_ to the _Puerta del
+Sol_, where the people poured upon it like an avalanche, with ever
+louder cries against ministry and clergy, until the scene in front of
+the Government Building suggested something very like a mob. Silvela
+bore his silvered head erect and exerted a prudent forbearance. But
+few arrests were made, and the military force that sallied out from
+the Government Building merely stood in the gates to awe the rioters.
+After an hour and a quarter the transit of the square was effected.
+The disturbances were renewed in the _Calle Mayor_ with such violence
+that the ministers were advised to withdraw, but they only entered the
+funeral coaches, and, the Guards exerting themselves to the utmost, a
+degree of order was at last secured. While the cortege was descending
+the difficult hill of La Vega, the Queen, standing in one of the
+palace balconies, opera glass in hand, sent a messenger for a report
+of the state of affairs in her capital, and was visited and reassured
+by a member of the Government.
+
+After this stormy journey the cemetery of San Isidro was reached at
+nightfall, and the silent orator laid to rest in the patio of _Santa
+Maria de la Cabeza_, beside his beloved sister, Concha Castelar. Even
+here Republican _vivas_ were raised, and again, later in the evening,
+before the house of Weyler, who appeared upon the balcony in answer to
+repeated calls. This general, more popular with Spaniards than with
+us, discreetly absented himself on Tuesday from the high mass chanted
+for Castelar in the Church of _San Francisco el Grande_, where there
+was an imposing display of uniforms and decorations.
+
+While the people still talked of their lost leader and proposed
+monuments and medals in his honor, the Government held firmly on its
+course. The Royal Progress for the opening of the Cortes on the
+following Friday was a suggestive contrast to the procession of
+Monday. Soldiers lined the curbstones all the way from the Royal
+Palace to the Congress Hall, bands were posted at intervals, the royal
+escort, splendidly mounted and equipped, was in itself a formidable
+force, while additional troops, in gala dress, paraded all the city.
+The balconies along the royal route were handsomely draped, but the
+people looked on at the gorgeous array of coaches, gilded and
+emblazoned, each drawn by six or eight choice horses, with sumptuous
+plumes and trappings, and attended by a story-book pomp of quaintly
+attired postilions, coachmen, and outriders, in a silence that was
+variously explained to me as indicating respect, hostility,
+indifference.
+
+I heard no _vivas_ and saw no hats raised even for the affable Infanta
+Isabel, riding alone in the tortoise-shell carriage, nor for the
+Princess of Asturias, girlishly attractive in rose color and white,
+nor for the bright-faced young King, ready with his military salute as
+he passed the foreign embassies, nor for the stately Regent, robed as
+richly as if she were on her way to read a gladder message than that
+which the opposition journals indignantly declared "no message, but a
+pious prayer of resignation."
+
+And while Madrid jarred and wrangled, the flowers brought by the
+little daughter of the workingman drooped on the marble slab above
+Castelar's repose.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+THE IMMEMORIAL FASHION
+
+     "For as many auchours affirme (and mannes accions declare)
+     that man is but his mynde; so it is to bee daily tride, that
+     the bodie is but a mixture of compoundes, knitte together like
+     a fardell of fleashe, and bondell of bones, and united as a
+     heavie lumpe of Leade (without the mynde) in the sillie
+     substance of a shadowe."--THOMAS CHURCHILL, GENTLEMAN.
+
+
+My Spanish hostess, brightest and prettiest of little ladies despite
+the weight of sorrow upon sorrow, came tripping into my room one
+afternoon with her black eyes starry bright under the lace mantilla.
+
+"And where have you been to get so nicely rested?"
+
+"To a _duelo_."
+
+I turned the word over in my mind. _Duelo?_ Surely that must mean the
+mourning at a house of death, when the men have gone forth to church
+and the burial, and the women remain behind to weep together, or one
+of those tearful _At Homes_ kept, day after day, until the mass, by
+the ladies of the afflicted household for their condoling friends. But
+such a smiling little senora! I hardly knew what degree of sympathy
+befitted the occasion.
+
+"Were you acquainted with the--the person?"
+
+"No, I had never seen him. He had been an officer in the Philippines
+many years, and came home very ill, fifteen days since. I wept
+because I knew his mother, but I wept much. Women, at least here in
+Spain, have always cause enough for tears. I thought of my own
+matters, and had a long, long cry. That is why I feel better. There is
+so little time to cry at home. I must see about the dinner now."
+
+And she rustled out again, leaving me to meditate on Spanish
+originality, even in grief.
+
+In any country the usages of death are no less significant than the
+usages of life. That grim necropolis of Glasgow, with its few shy
+gowans under its lowering sky, those tender, turf-folded,
+church-shadowed graveyards of rural England, those trains of mourners,
+men by themselves and women by themselves, walking behind the bier in
+mid-street through the mud and rain of wintry Paris to the bedizened
+Pere Lachaise or Montparnasse--such sights interpret a nation as truly
+as its art and history; but the burial customs of Spain, especially
+distinctive, are, like most things Spanish, contradictory and baffling
+to the tourist view. "La Tierra de Vice Versa" is not a country that
+he who runs may read.
+
+The popular verses and maxims treat of death with due Castilian
+solemnity and an always unflinching, if often ironic, recognition of
+the mortal fact. "When the house is finished," says the proverb, "the
+hearse is at the door." Yet this Spanish hearse is one of the gayest
+vehicles since Cinderella's coach. If the groundwork is black, there
+is abundant relief in mountings of brilliant yellow, but the funeral
+carriage is often cream-white, flourished over with fantastic designs
+in the bluest of blue or the pinkest of pink. Coffins, too, may be
+gaudy as candy-boxes. The first coffin we saw in Spain was bright
+lilac, a baby's casket, placed on gilt trestles in the centre of a
+great chill church, with chanting priests sprinkling holy water about
+it to frighten off the demons, and a crowd of black-bearded men
+waiting to follow it to the grave. Such a little coffin and not a
+woman near! The poor mother was decently at home, weeping in the midst
+of a circle of relatives and neighbors, and counting it among her
+comforts that the family had so many masculine friends to walk in the
+funeral procession and show sympathy with the household grief. There
+would be, on the ninth day after and, for several years to come, on
+the anniversary of the death, as many masses as could be afforded said
+in the parish church, when, again, the friends would make it a point
+of duty to attend.
+
+The daily papers abound in these notices, printed in a variety of
+types, so as to cover from two to ten square inches, heavily bordered
+with black, and surmounted, in case of adults, with crosses, and with
+cherubs' heads for children. I take up a copy of _La Epocha_ and read
+the following, under a cross: "Third Anniversary. Senorita Dona
+Francisca Fulana y Tal died the twenty-sixth of June, 1896, at
+twenty-one years of age. R. I. P. Her disconsolate mother and the rest
+of the family ask their friends and all pious persons to be so good as
+to commend her to God. All the masses celebrated to-morrow morning in
+the Church of San Pascual will be applied to the everlasting rest of
+the soul of the said senorita. Indulgences are granted in the usual
+form." It is the third anniversary, too, of a titled lady, whose
+"husband, brothers, brothers-in-law, nephews, uncles, cousins, and all
+who inherit under her will" have ordered masses in two churches for
+the entire day to-morrow, and announce, moreover, that the
+ecclesiastical authorities grant "one hundred and forty days of
+indulgence to all the faithful for each mass that they hear, sacred
+communion that they devote, or portion of a rosary that they pray for
+the soul of this most noble lady."
+
+In the case of another lady of high degree, who died yesterday,
+"having received the Blessed Sacraments and the benediction of his
+Holiness," the Nuncio concedes one hundred days of indulgence, the
+Archbishop of Burgos eighty, and the Bishops of Madrid, Alcala,
+Cartagena, Leon, and Santander forty each; while a marquis who died a
+year ago, "Knight of the Illustrious Order of the Golden Fleece," is
+to have masses said for his soul in seven churches, not only all
+through to-morrow, but for the two days following.
+
+May all these rest in peace, and all who mourn for them be comforted!
+Yet thought drifts away to the poor and lowly, whose grief cannot find
+solace in procuring this costly intercession of the Church for the
+souls they love. It seems hard that the inequalities of life should
+thus reach out into death and purgatory. We used, during our sojourn
+in Granada, to meet many pathetic little processions on "The Way of
+the Dead." Over this hollow road, almost a ravine, the fortress walls,
+with their crumbling towers, keep guard on the one side, and the
+terraced gardens of the _Generalife_, with their grand old cypresses,
+on the other. And here, almost every hour of the day, is climbing a
+company of four rough men, carrying on their shoulders a cheap coffin,
+which perhaps a husband follows, or a white-haired father, or, hand in
+hand, bewildered orphan boys. The road is so steep that often the
+bearers set their burden down in the shadow of the bank-side, and
+fling themselves at full length on the ground beside it, thriftily
+passing from man to man the slow-burning wax match for their paper
+cigarettes. I remember more than one such smoking group, with a
+solitary mourner, hat in hand and eyes on the coffin, yet he, too,
+with cigarette in mouth, standing patiently by. All who pass make the
+sign of the cross, and even the rudest peasant uncovers his head. Very
+shortly the bearers may be seen again, coming down the hill at a merry
+pace, the empty box, with its loose, rattling lid, tilted over the
+shoulder now of one, now of another; for the children of poverty, who
+had not chambers of their own nor the dignity of solitude in life, lie
+huddled in a common pit after death, without coffin-planks to sever
+dust from dust.
+
+A century ago it was usual to robe the dead in monastic garb,
+especially in the habit of St. Francis or of the Virgin of Carmen, and
+within the present generation bodies were borne to the grave on open
+biers, the bystanders saluting, and bidding them farewell and quiet
+rest:--
+
+     "'Duerme in paz!' dicen los buenos.
+     'Adios!' dicen los demas."
+
+But now the closed coffin of many colors is in vogue. In the Santiago
+market we met a cheerful dame with one of these balanced on her head,
+crying for a purchaser, and up the broad flights of steps to the
+Bilbao cemetery we saw a stolid-faced young peasant-woman swinging
+along with a child's white coffin, apparently heavy with the weight of
+death, poised on the glossy black coils of hair, about which she had
+twisted a carmine handkerchief.
+
+Very strange is the look of a Spanish cemetery, with its ranges of
+high, deep walls, wherein the coffins are thrust end-wise, each above
+each, to the altitude of perhaps a dozen layers. These cells are
+sometimes purchased outright, sometimes rented for ten years, or five,
+or one. When the friends of the quiet tenant pay his dues no longer,
+forth he goes to the general ditch, _osario comun_, and leaves his
+room for another. Such wall graves are characteristically Spanish,
+this mode of burial in the Peninsula being of long antiquity. Yet the
+rich prefer their own pantheons, sculptured like little chapels, or
+their own vaults, over which rise tall marbles of every device, the
+shaft, the pyramid, the broken column; while a poor family, or two or
+three neighboring households, often make shift to pay for one large
+earth grave, in which their dead may at least find themselves among
+kith and kin. Spanish cemeteries are truly silent cities, with streets
+upon streets enclosed between these solemn walls, which open out, at
+intervals, now for the ornamented patios of the rich, now for the
+dreary squares peopled by the poor. Here in a most aristocratic
+quarter, shaded by willows, set with marbles, paved with flower beds,
+sleeps a duke in stately pantheon, which is carved all over with
+angels, texts, and sacred symbols, still leaving room for medallions
+boasting his ancestral dignities. A double row of lamps, with gilded,
+fantastically moulded stands, and with dangling crystals of all
+colors, leads to the massive iron door. What enemy has he now to guard
+against with that array of bolts and bars? Here are a poet's palms
+petrified to granite, and here a monument all muffled in fresh
+flowers. Here the magnificent bronze figure of a knight, with sword
+half drawn, keeps watch beside a tomb, while the grave beyond a rose
+bush guards as well. And here an imaged Sandalphon holds out open
+hands, this legend written across his marble scarf, "The tear falleth;
+the flower fadeth; but God treasureth the prayer."
+
+There is a certain high-bred reserve about these costly sepulchres,
+but turning to the walls one comes so face to face with grief as to
+experience a sense of intrusion. Each cell shows on its sealed door of
+slate or other stone the name and age of its occupant, and perhaps a
+sentiment, lettered in gilt or black, as these: "We bear our loss--God
+knows how heavily." "Son of my soul." "For thee, that land of larger
+love; for me, until I find thee there, only the valley of sorrow and
+the hard hill of hope."
+
+Most of the cells have, too, a glassed or grated recess in front of
+this inscription wall, holding tributes or memorials--dried flowers,
+colored images of saints and angels, crucifixes, and the like.
+Sometimes the resurrection symbol of the butterfly appears. In the
+little cemetery at Vigo we noticed that the flower-vases were in form
+of great blue butterflies with scarlet splashes on their wings.
+Sometimes there are locks of hair, personal trinkets, and often card
+or cabinet photographs, whose living look startles the beholder. Out
+from a wreath of yellow immortelles peeps the plump smile of an old
+gentleman in modern dress coat; a coquettish lady in tiara and
+earrings laughs from behind her fan; and a grove of paper shrubbery,
+where tissue fairies dressed in rose petals dance on the blossoms,
+half hides the eager face of a Spanish midshipman. Where the
+photographs have faded and dimmed with time, the effect is less
+incongruous, if not less pathetic.
+
+The niches of children contain the gayest possible little figures.
+Here are china angels in blue frocks, with pink sleeves and saffron
+pantalets, pink-tipped plumes, and even pink bows in their goldy hair.
+Here is a company of tiny Hamlets, quaint dollikins set up in a circle
+about a small green grave, each with finger on lip, "The rest is
+silence." Here are two elegant and lazy cherubs, their alabaster
+chubbiness comfortably bestowed in toy chairs of crimson velvet on
+each side of an ivory crucifix. And here is a Bethlehem, and here a
+Calvary, and here the Good Shepherd bearing the lamb in His bosom; and
+here, in simple, but artistic wood carving, the Christ with open arms,
+calling to a child on sick-bed to come unto Him, while the mother,
+prostrate before the holy feet, kisses their shadow. One cannot look
+for long. It is well to lift the eyes from the niche graves of Granada
+to the glory of the Sierra Nevada that soars beyond, and turn from the
+patios of San Isidro to the cheerful picture of Madrid across the
+Manzanares, even though, prominent in the vista, rises the cupola of
+_San Francisco el Grande_. This is the National Pantheon, and within,
+beneath the frescoed dome, all aglow with blue and gold, masses are
+chanted for the dead whom Spain decrees to honor, as, so recently, for
+Castelar.
+
+Near this church a viaduct, seventy-five feet high, crosses the _Calle
+de Segovia_; and, despite the tall crooked railings and a constant
+police patrol, Madrilenos bent on suicide often succeed in leaping
+over and bruising out their breath on the stones of the street below.
+It is a desperate exit. The Seine and Thames lure their daily victims
+with murmuring sound and the soft, enfolding look of water, but
+Spaniards who spring from this fatal viaduct see beneath them only the
+cruel pavement. That life should be harder than stone! And yet the
+best vigilance of Madrid cannot prevent fresh bloodstains on the
+_Calle de Segovia_.
+
+Near the cemetery of San Isidro, across the Manzanares, are two other
+large Catholic burial grounds, and the _Cementerio Ingles_.
+
+"But murderers, atheists, and Protestants are buried way off in the
+east," said the pretty Spanish girl beside me.
+
+"Oh, let's go there!" I responded, with heretic enthusiasm; but I had
+reckoned without the cabman, who promptly and emphatically protested.
+
+"That's not a pleasant place for ladies to see. You would better drive
+in the _Prado_ and _Recoletos_, or in the _Buen Retiro_."
+
+We told him laughingly that he was speaking against his own interests,
+for the Civil Cemetery was much farther off than the parks. He
+consulted his dignity and decided to laugh in return.
+
+"It is not of the _pesetas_ I think first when I am driving ladies.
+But" (with suave indulgence) "you shall go just where you like."
+
+So in kindness he gathered up his reins and away we clattered sheer
+across the city. Presently we had left the fountain-cooled squares and
+animated streets behind, had passed even the ugly, sinister _Plaza de
+Toros_, and outstripped the trolley track; but still the road
+stretched on, enlivened only by herds of goats and an occasional
+_venta_, where drivers of mule trains were pausing to wet their dusty
+throats. We met few vehicles now save the gay-colored hearses, and few
+people except groups of returning mourners, walking in bewildered
+wise, with stumbling feet.
+
+"The Cemetery of the Poor is opposite the Civil Cemetery," said our
+cabman, "and they have from thirty to fifty burials a day. The keeper
+is a friend of mine. He shall show you all about."
+
+A bare Castilian ridge rose before us, where a farmer, leaning on his
+scythe, was outlined against the sky like a silhouette of Death. And
+at last our cheery driver, humming bars from a popular light opera,
+checked his mettlesome old mare,--who plunged down hills and scrambled
+up as if she were running away from the bull-ring, where she must soon
+fulfil her martyrdom,--between two dismal graveyards. From the larger,
+on our right, tiptoed out a furtive man and peered into the cab as if
+he thought we had a coffin under the seat.
+
+He proved a blood-curdling conductor, always speaking in a hoarse
+whisper and glancing over his shoulder in a way to make the stoutest
+nerves feel ghosts, but he showed us, under that sunset sky, memorable
+sights--ranks upon ranks of gritty mounds marked with black, wooden
+crosses, a scanty grace for which the living often pay the price of
+their own bread that the dead they love may pass a year or two out of
+that hideous general fosse. Then the sexton reluctantly led us to the
+unblessed, untended hollow across the way, where rows of brick
+sepulchres await the poor babies who die before the holy water touches
+them, where recumbent marbles press upon the dead who knew no upward
+reach of hope, and where defiant monuments, erected by popular
+subscription and often bearing the blazonry of a giant quill, denote
+the resting-places of freethinkers and the agitators of new ideas.
+There were some Christian inscriptions, whether for Protestants or not
+I do not know, but to my two companions there was no distinction of
+persons in this unhallowed limbo.
+
+Our dusty guide led us hurriedly from plot to plot.
+
+"They say the mothers cheat the priests, and there are babies over
+yonder that ought to be here, for the breath was out of them before
+ever they were baptized. They say the priests had this man done to
+death one night, because he wrote against religion. He was only
+twenty-two. The club he belonged to put up that stone. They say there
+are evil words on it. But I don't know myself. I can't read, thanks to
+God. They say it was through reading and writing that most of these
+came here."
+
+"But those are not evil words," I answered. "They are, 'Believe in
+Jesus and thou shalt be saved.'"
+
+He hastily crossed himself, "Do me the favor not to read such words
+out loud. Here is another, where they say the words are words of
+hell."
+
+I held my peace this time, musing on that broad marble with its one
+deep-cut line, "The Death of God."
+
+"And over there," he croaked, pointing with his clay-colored thumb,
+"is _Whiskers_."
+
+The senorita, whose black eyes had been getting larger and larger,
+gave a little scream and fairly ran for the gate.
+
+Spaniards have usually great sympathy for criminals, newspaper
+accounts of executions often closing with an entreaty for God's mercy
+on "this poor man's soul," but _Whiskers_, the Madrid sensation of a
+fortnight since, was a threefold murderer. Passion-mad, he had shot
+dead in the open street a neighbor's youthful wife, held the public at
+bay with his revolver, and mortally wounded two Civil Guards, before
+he turned the fatal barrel on himself.
+
+"His family wanted him laid over the way," continued that scared
+undertone at my ear, "but the bishop said no. A murderer like that was
+just as bad as infidels and Protestants, and should be buried out of
+grace."
+
+I felt as if Superstition incarnate were walking by my side, and after
+one more look at that strangely peopled patch of unconsecrated ground,
+with its few untrimmed cypresses and straggling rose bushes, hillside
+slopes about and glory-flooded skies above, I gave Superstition a
+_peseta_, which he devoutly kissed, and returned to the cab, followed
+by the carol of a solitary bird.
+
+I remember a similar experience in Cadiz. I had driven out with one of
+my Spanish hostesses to the large seaside cemetery, a mile beyond the
+gate. This is arranged in nine successive patios, planted with palms
+and cypresses. In the niches, seashells play a prominent part. The
+little angel images, as gay as ever, with their pink girdles and their
+purple wings, may be seen swinging in shells, sleeping in shells, and
+balancing on the edge of shells to play their golden flutes. Near by
+is an English and German cemetery, with green-turfed mounds and a
+profusion of blossoming shrubs and flower beds. Not sure of the
+direction, as we were leaving the Catholic enclosure I asked a
+bandy-legged, leather-visaged old sexton, who might have been the very
+one that dug Ophelia's grave, if the "Protestant cemetery" was at our
+right. He laid down his mattock, peered about among the mausolea to
+see if we were quite alone, winked prodigiously, and, drawing a bunch
+of keys from the folds of his black sash, started briskly down a
+by-path and signed to us to follow. He led us through stony passages
+out beyond the sanctified ground into a dreary, oblong space, a patch
+of weeds and sand, enclosed by the lofty sepulchral walls, but with a
+blessed strip of blue sky overhead.
+
+"Here they are!" he chuckled. "They wouldn't confess, they died
+without the sacraments, and here they are."
+
+Some names lettered on the wall seemed to be those of Dutch and
+Norwegian sailors, who had perhaps died friendless in this foreign
+port. There were pebble-strewn graves of Jews, and upright marbles
+from which the dead still seemed to utter voice: "I refuse the prayers
+of all the saints, and ask the prayers of honest human souls. I
+believe in God." And another, "God is knowledge." And another, "God is
+All that works for Wisdom and for Love."
+
+"Are there burial services for these?" I inquired.
+
+If the Church of England could have seen that crooked old sexton go
+through his gleeful pantomime!
+
+"There's one that comes with some, and they call him Pastor! And he
+scrapes up a handful of dirt--so! And he flings it at the coffin--so!
+And then he stands up straight and says, 'Dust to dust!' I've heard
+him say it myself."
+
+"God of my soul!" cried the Spanish lady in horror, and to express her
+detestation of such a heathenish rite, she spat upon the ground.
+
+The monarchs of Spain do not mingle their ashes. Who knows where
+Roderick sleeps? Or does that deathless culprit still lurk in mountain
+caverns, as tradition has it, wringing his wasted hands and tearing
+his white beard in unavailing penitence? The "Catholic kings,"
+Ferdinand and Isabella, lie, not where they had planned, in that
+beautiful Gothic church of Toledo, _San Juan de los Reyes_, on whose
+outer walls yet hang the Moorish chains struck from the limbs of
+Christian captives, but in Granada, the city of their conquest, where
+they slumber proudly, although their coffins are of plainest lead and
+their last royal chamber a small and dusky vault. Pedro the Cruel is
+thrust away in a narrow wall-grave beneath the _Capilla Real_ of
+Seville cathedral. His brother, the Master of Santiago, whom he
+treacherously slew in one of the loveliest halls of the Alcazar, is
+packed closely in on his left, and Maria de Padilla, for whose sake he
+cut short the hapless life of Queen Blanche, on his right. Pleasant
+family discussions they must have at the witching hour of night, when
+they drag their numb bones out of those pigeon-holes for a brief
+respite of elbow room! San Fernando, the Castilian conqueror of
+Castile, canonized "because he carried fagots with his own hands for
+the burning of heretics," is more commodiously accommodated in a
+silver sarcophagus in the chapel above, where Alfonso the Learned also
+has long leisure for thought. Another Alfonso and another Fernando,
+with another wife of Pedro the Cruel, keep their state in Santiago de
+Compostela, and still another Alfonso and two Sanchos have their
+splendid tombs in the _Capilla Mayor_ of Toledo cathedral, while in
+its _Capilla de los Reyes Nuevos_, a line descended from that brother
+whom Pedro murdered, sleeps the first John, with the second and third
+Henrys.
+
+  [Illustration: BULL-FIGHT OF TO-DAY]
+
+Cordova cathedral, although this lovely mosque recks little of
+Christian majesties, has the ordinary equipment of an Alfonso and a
+Fernando, and the Royal Monastery of Las Huelgas in Burgos shelters
+Alfonso VIII, with his queen, Eleanor of England. In less noted
+churches, one continually chances on them, _rey_ or _reina_, _infante_
+or _infanta_, dreaming the centuries away in rich recesses of fretted
+marble and alabaster, with the shadow of great arches over them and
+the deep-voiced chant around.
+
+But since Philip II created, in his own sombre likeness, the monastery
+of the Escorial, rising in angular austerity from a spur of the bleak
+Guadarrama Mountains, the royal houses of Austria and Bourbon have
+sought burial there. The first and chief in the dank series of
+sepulchral vaults, the celebrated _Panteon de los Reyes_, is an
+octagon of black marble, placed precisely under the high altar, and
+gloomily magnificent with jasper, porphyry, and gold. It has an altar
+of its own, on whose left are three recesses, each with four long
+shelves placed one above another for the sarcophagi of the kings of
+Spain, and on whose right are corresponding recesses for the queens.
+As the guide holds his torch, we read the successive names of the
+great Charles I, founder of the Austrian line; the three Philips, in
+whom his genius dwindled more and more; and the half-witted Charles
+II, in whom it ignobly perished. The coffin lid of Charles I has twice
+been lifted, once as late as 1871, in compliment to the visiting
+Emperor of Brazil, and even then that imperial body lay intact, with
+blackened face and open, staring eyes. The gilded bronze coffin of
+Philip II was brought to his bedside for his inspection in his last
+hour of life. After a critical survey he ordered a white satin lining
+and more gilt nails--a remarkable sense of detail in a man who had
+sent some ten thousand heretics to the torture.
+
+Looking for the Bourbons, we miss the first of them all, the
+melancholy Philip V, who would not lay him down among these Austrians,
+but sleeps with his second queen, the strong-willed Elizabeth
+Farnese, in his cloudy retreat of San Ildefonso, within hearing of the
+fountains of La Granja. His eldest son, Luis the Well-Beloved, who
+died after a reign of seven months, rests here in the Escorial, but
+Fernando VI, also the son of Philip's first queen--that gallant little
+Savoyarde who died so young--was buried in Madrid. Charles III, best
+and greatest of the Spanish Bourbons, is here, the weak Charles IV,
+Fernando VII, "The Desired" and the Disgraceful, and Alfonso XII,
+while a stately sarcophagus is already reserved for Alfonso XIII.
+
+To the cold society of these five Austrian and five Bourbon sovereigns
+are admitted nine royal ladies. Of these, the first three are in good
+and regular standing--the queen of Charles I and mother of Philip II,
+the fourth queen of Philip II and mother of Philip III, the queen of
+Philip III and mother of Philip IV. But here is an intruder. Philip
+IV, who had an especial liking for this grewsome vault, and used often
+to clamber into his own niche to hear mass, insisted on having both
+his French and Austrian queens interred here, although the first,
+Isabel of Bourbon, is not the mother of a Spanish king, the promising
+little Baltasar having died in boyhood. The brave girl-queen of Philip
+V is here, in double right as mother both of Luis and Fernando VI, and
+here is the wife of Charles III and mother of Charles IV. But of sorry
+repute are the last two queens, the wife of Charles IV and mother of
+Fernando VII, she who came hurrying down those slippery marble stairs
+in feverish delirium to scratch _Luisa_ with scissors on her selected
+coffin, and this other, Maria Cristina, wife of Fernando VII and
+mother of the dethroned Isabel, a daughter who did not mend the story.
+It will not be long before she returns from her French exile to enter
+into possession of the sarcophagus that expects her here, even as
+another sumptuous coffin awaits the present regent. Pity it is for
+Isabel, whose name is still a byword in the Madrid cafes! But she
+always enjoyed hearing midnight mass in this dim and dreadful crypt,
+and will doubtless be glad to come back to her ancestors, such as they
+were, and take up her royal residence with them in "dust of human
+nullity and ashes of mortality."
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+CORPUS CHRISTI IN TOLEDO
+
+     "A blackened ruin, lonely and forsaken,
+     Already wrapt in winding-sheets of sand,
+     So lies Toledo till the dead awaken,
+     A royal spoil of Time's resistless hand."
+                                    --ZORRILLA: _Toledo_.
+
+
+In the thirteenth century the doctrine of transubstantiation assumed
+especial importance. Miracle plays and cathedral glass told thrilling
+stories of attacks made by Jews on the sacred Wafer, which bled under
+their poniards or sprang from their caldrons and ovens in complete
+figure of the Christ. The festival of Corpus Christi, then established
+by Rome, was devoutly accepted in Spain and used to be celebrated with
+supreme magnificence in Madrid. Early in the reign of Philip IV,
+Prince Charles of England, who, with the adventurous Buckingham, had
+come in romantic fashion to the Spanish capital, hoping to carry by
+storm the heart of the Infanta, stood for hours in a balcony of the
+Alcazar, gazing silently on the glittering procession. How they swept
+by through the herb-strewn, tapestried streets--musicians,
+standard-bearers, cross-bearers, files of orphans from the asylums,
+six and thirty religious brotherhoods, monks of all the orders,
+barefoot friars, ranks of secular clergy and brothers of charity, the
+proud military orders of Alcantara, Calatrava, and Santiago, the
+Councils of the Indies, of Aragon, of Portugal, the Supreme Council of
+Castile, the City Fathers of Madrid, the Governmental Ministers of
+Spain and Spanish Italy, the Tribunal of the Holy Office, preceded by
+a long array of cloaked and hooded Familiars, bishops upon bishops in
+splendid, gold-enwoven vestments, priests of the royal chapel
+displaying the royal banner, bearers of the crosier and the
+sacramental vessels, the Archbishop of Santiago, royal chaplains and
+royal majordomos, royal pages with tall wax tapers, incense burners,
+the canopied mystery of the Eucharist, the king, the prince,
+cardinals, nuncio, the inquisitor general, the Catholic ambassadors,
+the patriarch of the Indies, the all-powerful Count-Duke Olivares,
+grandees, lesser nobility, gentlemen, and a display of Spanish and
+German troops, closed by a great company of archers. So overwhelming
+was that solemn progress, with its brilliant variety of sacerdotal
+vestments, knightly habits, robes of state and military trappings, its
+maces, standards, crosses, the flash of steel, gold, jewels, and
+finally the sheen of candles, the clouds of incense, the tinkling of
+silver bells before the _Santisimo Corpus_, that the heretic prince
+and his reckless companion fell to their knees. One Spanish author
+pauses to remark that for these, who could even then reject the open
+arms of the Mother Church, the assassin's blow and the Whitehall block
+were naturally waiting.
+
+Such a pomp would have been worth the seeing, but we had arrived at
+Madrid almost three centuries too late. Catholic friends shrugged
+shoulder at mention of the Corpus procession, "_Vale poco._" And as
+for the famous _autos sacramentales_, which used to be celebrated at
+various times during the eight days of the Corpus solemnity, they may
+be read in musty volumes, but can be seen in the city squares no more.
+Calderon is said to have written the trifling number of seventy-two,
+and Lope de Vega, whose fingers must have been tipped with pens, some
+four hundred.
+
+If only our train, which then would not have been a train, had brought
+us, who then would not have come, to Madrid in season for a Corpus
+celebration under the Austrian dynasty, we could have attended an
+open-air theatre of a very curious sort. All the way to the _Plaza_,
+we would have seen festivity at its height, pantomimic dances, merry
+music, struttings of giants and antics of dwarfs, and perhaps groups
+of boys insulting cheap effigies of snakes, modelled after the
+monstrous _Tarasca_, carried in the Corpus parade in token of Christ's
+victory over the Devil. At intervals along the route, adorned with
+flowers and draperies, and reserved for the procession and the
+dramatic cars, would have been altars hung with rich stuffs from the
+Alcazar and the aristocratic palaces; silks and cloth of gold,
+brocades, velvets, and shimmering wefts of the Indies. The one-act
+play itself might be after the general fashion of the mediaeval
+Miracles,--verse dialogue, tuned to piety with chords of fun, for the
+setting forth of Biblical stories. Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac, Moses
+feeding the Israelites with manna, the patience of Job, the trials of
+Joseph, David, and Daniel, were thus represented.
+
+More frequently, the _auto sacramental_ belonged to the so-called
+Morality type of early Christian drama, being an allegorical
+presentation of human experience or exposition of church doctrine.
+Such were "The Fountain of Grace," "The Journey of the Soul," "The
+Dance of Death," "The Pilgrim." Sometimes a Gospel parable, as the
+"Lost Sheep" or the "Prodigal Son," gave the dramatic suggestion. But
+these Spanish spectacles sought to associate themselves, as closely as
+might be, with the Corpus worship, and many of them bear directly, in
+one way or another, upon this sacrament.
+
+If, for instance, we had chanced on the Madrid festival in 1681, we
+could have witnessed in the decorated _Plaza_, with its thronged
+balconies, the entrance of four scenic platforms or cars. The first,
+painted over with battles, bears a Gothic castle; the second, with
+pictures of the sea, a gallant ship; the third, a starry globe; the
+fourth, a grove and garden, whose central fountain is so shaped as to
+form, above, the semblance of an altar. In the complicated action of
+the play, when the Soul, besieged in her fortress by the Devil, whose
+allies are the World and the Flesh, calls upon Christ for succor, the
+hollow sphere of the third car opens, revealing the Lord enthroned in
+glory amid cherubim and seraphim; but the climax of the triumph is not
+yet. That stout old general, the Devil, rallies fresh forces to the
+attack, such subtle foes as Atheism, Judaism, and Apostasy, and
+whereas, before, the Senses bore the brunt of the conflict, it is the
+Understanding that girds on armor now. Yet in the final outcome not
+the Understanding, but Faith draws the veil from before the altar of
+the fourth car, and there, in the consecrated vessel for the holding
+of the Wafer, appears the "Passion Child," the white bread from
+Heaven, "very flesh and very blood that are the price of the soul's
+salvation."
+
+That is the way Spain kept her Corpus _fiesta_ in the good old times
+of Charles the Bewitched; but not now. After the procession, the
+bull-fight; and after the bull-fight, the latest vaudeville or ballet.
+Last year it rained on Corpus Thursday, which fell on the first of
+June, and Madrid gave up the procession altogether. Some of the
+Opposition papers started the cry that this was shockingly irreligious
+in Silvela, but when the Government organs haughtily explained that it
+was the decision of the archbishop and Senor Silvela was not even
+consulted, the righteous indignation of the Liberals straightway
+subsided. The procession, which was to have been a matter of
+kettledrums and clarionets, soldiery, "coaches of respect" from the
+palace and the city corporation, and a full showing of the parochial
+clergy, did not seem to be missed by the people. Corpus has long
+ceased to be a chief event in the Capital.
+
+There are a few cities in Spain, however, where the Corpus fete is
+maintained with something of the old gayety and splendor. Bustling
+Barcelona, never too busy for a frolic, keeps it merrily with an
+elaborate parade from the cathedral all about the city,
+and--delightful feature!--the distribution of flowers and sweetmeats
+among the ladies. The procession in Valencia resembles those of Holy
+Week in Seville. On litters strewn with flowers and thick-set with
+candle-lights are borne carved groups of sacred figures and richly
+attired images of Christ and the Virgin. But it is in lyric Andalusia
+that these pageantries are most at home. Among her popular _coplas_ is
+one that runs:--
+
+     "Thursdays three in the year there be,
+       That shine more bright than the sun's own ray--
+     Holy Thursday, Corpus Christi,
+       And our Lord's Ascension Day."
+
+Cadiz, like Valencia, carries the _pasos_ in the Corpus procession. In
+Seville, where the street displays of Holy Week are under the charge
+of the religious brotherhoods, or _cofradias_, Corpus Christi gives
+opportunity for the clergy and aristocracy to present a rival
+exhibition of sanctified luxury and magnificence.
+
+But it is in beautiful belated Granada that the Corpus fete is now at
+its best. A brilliantly illustrated programme, whose many-hued cover
+significantly groups a gamboge cathedral very much in the background,
+and a flower-crowned Andalusian maiden, draped in a Manila shawl, with
+a prodigious guitar at her feet, very much in the foreground,
+announces a medley of festivities extending over eleven days. This
+cheerful booklet promises, together with a constant supply of military
+music, balcony decorations, and city illuminations, an assortment of
+pleasures warranted to suit every taste--infantry reviews, cavalry
+reviews, cadet reviews, masses under roof and masses in the open,
+claustral processions, parades of giants, dwarfs, and _La Tarasca_, a
+charity raffle in the park under the patronage of Granada's most
+distinguished ladies, the erection of out-of-door altars, the
+dispensing of six thousand loaves of bread among the poor (from my
+experience of Granada beggars I should say the supply was
+insufficient), a solemn Corpus procession passing along white-canopied
+streets under a rain of flowers, three regular bull-fights with the
+grand masters Guerrita, Lagartijillo, and Fuentes, followed by a
+gloriously brutal _corrida_, with young beasts and inexperienced
+fighters, cattle fair, booths, puppet shows, climbing of greased
+poles, exhibition of fine arts and industries, horse racing, polo,
+pigeon shoot, trapeze, balloon ascensions, gypsy dances, and fireworks
+galore.
+
+But even faithful Granada shared in the strange catalogue of
+misfortunes which attended Corpus last year. The rains descended on
+her Chinese lanterns, and the winds beat against her Arabic arches
+with their thousands of gas-lights. On the sacred Thursday itself, the
+Andalusian weather made a most unusual demonstration of hurricane and
+cloudburst, with interludes of thunder and lightning. Great was the
+damage in field, vineyard, and orchard, and as for processions, they
+were in many places out of the question. Even Seville and Cordova had
+to postpone both parades and bull-fights. But this was not the worst.
+In Ecija, one of the quaintest cities of Andalusia, an image of the
+Virgin as the Divine Shepherdess, lovingly arrayed and adorned with no
+little outlay by the nuns of the Conception, caught fire in the
+procession from a taper, like Seville's Virgin of Montserrat in the
+last _Semana Santa_. The _Divina Pastora_ barely escaped with her
+jewels. Her elaborate garments, the herbage and foliage of her
+pasture, and one of her woolly sheep were burned to ashes. In Palma de
+Mallorca, a romantic town of the Balearic Isles, a balcony, whose
+occupants were leaning out to watch the procession, broke away, and
+crashed down into the midst of the throng. A young girl fell upon the
+bayonet of a soldier marching beneath, and was grievously hurt. Others
+suffered wounds which, in one case at least, proved fatal. The
+Opposition journals did not fail to make capital out of these untoward
+events, serving them up in satiric verse with the irreverent
+suggestion that, if this was all the favor a reactionary and
+ultra-Catholic government could secure from Heaven, it was time to go
+back to Sagasta.
+
+The ecclesiastical Toledo, seat of the Primate of all Spain, is one
+of the Spanish cities which still observe Corpus Christi as a high
+solemnity, and Toledo is within easy pilgrimage distance of Madrid. I
+had already passed two days in that ancient capital of the Visigoths,
+ridding my conscience of the sightseers' burden, and I both longed and
+dreaded to return. The longing overcame the dread, and I dropped in at
+the _Estacion del Mediodia_ for preliminary inquiries. I could
+discover no bureau of information and no official authorized to
+instruct the public, but in this lotus-eating land what is nobody's
+business is everybody's business. There could not be a better-humored
+people. The keeper of the bookstand abandoned his counter, his
+would-be customers lighting cigarettes and leaning up against trucks
+and stacks of luggage to wait for his return, and escorted me the
+length of the station to find a big yellow poster, which gave the
+special time-table for Corpus Thursday. The poster was so high upon
+the wall that our combined efforts could not make it out; whereupon a
+nimble little porter dropped the trunk he was carrying, and climbed on
+top of it for a better view. In that commanding position he could see
+clearly enough, but just when my hopes were at the brightest, he
+regretfully explained that he had never learned to read. As he
+clambered down the proprietor of the trunk, who had been looking on
+with as much serenity as if trains never went and starting bells never
+rang, mounted in turn. This gentleman, all smiles and bows and tobacco
+smoke, read off the desired items, which the keeper of the bookstand
+copied for me in a leisurely, conversational manner, with a pencil
+lent by one bystander on a card donated by another.
+
+There is really something to be said for the Spanish way of doing
+business. It takes time, but if time is filled with human kindliness
+and social courtesies, why not? What is time for? Whenever I observed
+that I was the only person in a hurry on a Madrid street, I revised my
+opinion as to the importance of my errand.
+
+As I entered the station again on the first of June at the penitential
+hour of quarter past six in the morning, I was reflecting complacently
+on my sagacity as a traveller. Had I not bethought me that, even in
+the ecclesiastical centre of Spain and on this solemn festival, there
+might be peril for a stranger's purse? What financial acumen I had
+shown in calculating that, since my round-trip ticket to Toledo before
+had cost three dollars, second class, I could probably go first class
+on this excursion for the same sum, while two dollars more would be
+ample allowance for balcony hire and extras! And yet how prudent in me
+to have tucked away a reserve fund in a secret pocket inaccessible
+even to myself! But why was the station so jammed and crammed with
+broad-hatted Spaniards? And what was the meaning of that long line of
+roughs, stretching far out from the third-class ticket office?
+Bull-fight explained it all. Even reverend Toledo must keep the Corpus
+holy by the public slaughter of six choice bulls and as many hapless
+horses as their blind rage might rend. Worse than the pagan altars
+that reeked with the blood of beasts, Spain's Christian festivals
+demand torture in addition to butchery.
+
+There were no first-class carriages, it appeared, upon the Corpus
+train, and my round-trip ticket, second class, cost only a dollar,
+leaving me with an embarrassment of riches. Pursing the slip of
+pasteboard which, to my disgust, was stamped in vermilion letters
+_Corrida de Toros_, I sped me to the train, where every seat appeared
+to be taken, although it lacked twenty minutes of the advertised time
+for departure; but a bald-headed philanthropist called out from a
+carriage window that they still had room for one. Gratefully climbing
+up, I found myself in the society of a family party, off for Toledo to
+celebrate the saint-day of their hazel-eyed eight-year-old by that
+treat of treats, a child's first bull-fight. When they learned that I
+was tamely proposing to keep Corpus Christi by seeing the procession
+and not by "assisting at the function of bulls," their faces clouded;
+but they decided to make allowance for my foreign idiosyncrasies.
+
+The train, besieged by a multitude of ticket-holders for whom there
+were no places, was nearly an hour late in getting off. The ladies
+dozed and chattered; the gentlemen smoked and dozed; little Hazel-eyes
+constantly drew pictures of bulls with a wet finger on the window
+glass. Reminded again by my handbag literature that Toledo is a nest
+of thieves, I would gladly have put away my extra money, but there was
+never a moment when all the gentlemen were asleep at once.
+
+It was after ten when we reached our destination, the boy wild with
+rapture because we had actually seen a pasture of grazing bulls. A
+swarm of noisy, scrambling, savage-looking humanity hailed the arrival
+of the train, and I had hardly made my way even to the platform before
+I felt an ominous twitch at my pocket. The light-fingered art must
+have degenerated in Toledo since the day of that clever cutpurse of
+the "Exemplary Tales." Turning sharply, I confronted a group of my
+fellow-worshippers, who, shawled and sashed and daggered, looked as
+if they had been expressly gotten up for stage bandits. From the
+shaggy pates, topped by gaudy, twisted handkerchiefs--a headdress not
+so strange in a city whose stone walls looked for centuries on Moorish
+turbans--to the bright-edged, stealthy hemp sandals, these were
+pickpockets to rejoice a kodak. Their black eyes twinkled at me with
+wicked triumph, while it flashed across my mind that my old hero, the
+Cid, was probably much of their aspect, and certainly gained his
+living in very similar ways. There were a full score of these
+picturesque plunderers, and not a person of the nineteenth century in
+sight. Since there was nothing to do, I did it, and giving them a
+parting glance of moral disapproval, to which several of the sauciest
+responded by blithely touching their forelocks, I pursued my pilgrim
+course, purged of vainglory. At all events, I was delivered from
+temptation as to a questionable _peseta_ in my purse--my pretty Paris
+purse!--and I should not be obliged to travel again on that odious
+bull-fight ticket.
+
+We were having "fool weather," blowing now hot, now cold, but as at
+this moment the air was cool, and every possible vehicle seemed
+packed, thatched, fringed with clinging passengers, I decided, not
+seeking further reasons, to walk up to the town. And what a town it
+is! Who could remember dollars? So far from being decently depressed,
+I was almost glad to have lost something in this colossal monument of
+losses. It seemed to make connection.
+
+Between deep, rocky, precipitous banks, strongly flows the golden
+"king of rivers, the venerable Tajo," almost encircling the granite
+pedestal of the city and spanned by ancient bridges of massy stone,
+with battlemented, Virgin-niched, fierce old gates. And above, upon
+its rugged height, crumbling hourly into the gritty dust that stings
+the eye and scrapes beneath the foot, lies in swirls on floor and
+pavement, blows on every breeze and sifts through hair and clothing,
+is the proud, sullen, forsaken fortress of "imperial Toledo." Still it
+is a vision of turrets, domes, and spires, fretwork, buttresses,
+facades, but all so desolate, so dreary, isolated in that parched
+landscape as it is isolated in the living world, that one approaches
+with strangely blended feelings of awe, repugnance, and delight.
+
+On we go over the Bridge of Alcantara, wrought aeons since by a gang of
+angry Titans--the guidebooks erroneously attribute it to the Moors and
+Alfonso the Learned--with a shuddering glance out toward the ruins of
+feudal castles, here a battlemented keep set with mighty towers, there
+a great, squat, frowning mass of stone, the very sight of which might
+have crushed a prisoner's heart. Up, straight up, into the grim, gray,
+labyrinthine city, whose zigzag streets, often narrowing until two
+laden donkeys, meeting, cannot pass, so twist and turn that it is
+impossible on entering one to guess at what point of the compass we
+will come out. These crooked ways, paved with "agony stones," are
+lined with tall, dark, inhospitable house fronts, whose few windows
+are heavily grated, and whose huge doors, bristling with iron bosses,
+are furnished with fantastic knockers and a whole arsenal of bolts and
+chains.
+
+  [Illustration: THE KING OF THE GYPSIES]
+
+Gloomy as these ponderous structures are, every step discloses a
+novelty of beauty,--a chiselled angel, poised for flight, chased
+escutcheons, bas-reliefs, toothed arches, medallions, weather-eaten
+groups of saints and apostles gossiping in their scalloped niches
+about the degeneracy of the times. The Moors, whose architecture, says
+Becquer, seems the dream of a Moslem warrior sleeping after battle in
+the shadow of a palm, have left their mark throughout Toledo in the
+airy elegance of the traceries magically copied from cobwebs and the
+Milky Way. That tragic race, the Jews, have stamped on the walls of
+long-desecrated synagogues their own mysterious emblems. And Goths and
+Christian knights have wrought their very likenesses into the stern,
+helmeted heads that peer out from the capitals of marvellous columns
+amid the stone grapes and pomegranates most fit for their heroic
+nourishment. But all is in decay. Here stands a broken-sceptred statue
+turning its royal back on a ragged vender of toasted _garbanzos_. Even
+the image of Wamba has lost its royal nose.
+
+You may traverse whispering cloisters heaped with fallen crosses, with
+truant tombstones, and severed heads and limbs of august prophets.
+Cast aside in dusky vaults lie broken shafts of rose-tinted marbles
+and fragments of rare carving in whose hollows the birds of the air
+once built their nests. Through the tangle of flowers and shrubbery
+that chokes the patios gleam the rims of alabaster urns and basins of
+jasper fountains. Such radiant wings and faces as still flash out from
+frieze and arch and column, such laughing looks, fresh with a dewy
+brightness, as if youth and springtime were enchanted in the stone!
+And what supreme grace and truth of artistry in all this bewildering
+detail! On some far-off day of the golden age, when ivory and agate
+were as wax, when cedar and larch wood yielded like their own soft
+leaves, the magician must have pressed upon them the olive leaf, the
+acacia spray, the baby's foot, that have left these perfect traces.
+And how did mortal hand ever achieve the intricate, curling,
+unfolding, blossoming marvel of those capitals? And who save kings,
+Wambas and Rodericks, Sanchos, Alfonsos, and Fernandos, should mount
+these magnificent stairways? And what have those staring stone faces
+above that antique doorway looked upon to turn them haggard with
+horror? City of ghosts! The flesh begins to creep. But here, happily,
+we are arrived in the _Plaza de Zocodover_, where Lazarillo de Tormes
+used to display his talents as town crier, and in this long-memoried
+market-place, with its arcaded sides and trampled green, may pause to
+take our bearings.
+
+Evidently the procession is to pass here, for the balconies, still
+displaying the yellow fronds of Palm Sunday, are hung with all manner
+of draperies--clear blue, orange with silver fringes, red with violet
+bars, white with saffron scallops. Freed from sordid cares about my
+pocket, I give myself for a little to the spell of that strange scene.
+Beyond rise the rich-hued towers of the Alcazar, on the site where
+Romans, Visigoths, Arabs, the Cid, and an illustrious line of Spanish
+monarchs have fortified themselves in turn; but Time at last is
+conqueror, and one visits the dismantled castle only to forget all
+about it in the grandeur of the view. From the east side of the
+_Zocodover_ soars the arch on whose summit used to stand the
+_Santisimo Cristo del Sangre_, before whom the Corpus train did
+reverence. And here in the centre blazed that momentous bonfire which
+was to settle the strife between the old Toledan liturgy and the new
+ritual of Rome; but the impartial elements honored both the Prayer
+Books placed upon the fagots, the wind wafting to a place of safety
+the Roman breviary, while the flames drew back from the other, with
+the result that the primitive rite is still preserved in an especial
+chapel of the cathedral.
+
+A glorious _plaza_, famed by Cervantes, loved by Lope de Vega, but now
+how dim and shabby! On the house-fronts once so gayly colored, the
+greens have faded to yellows, the reds to pinks, and the pinks to
+browns. The awning spread along the route of the procession is fairly
+checkered with a miscellany of patches. I pass the compliments of the
+day with a smiling peasant woman, whose husband, a striking
+color-scheme in maroon blanket, azure trousers, russet stockings, and
+soiled gray sandals, offers me his seat on the stone bench beside her.
+But I am bound on my errand, and they bid me "Go with God." I select a
+trusty face in a shop doorway and ask if I can rent standing room in
+the balcony above. Mine honest friend puts his price a trifle high to
+give him a margin for the expected bargaining, but I scorn to haggle
+on a day when I am short of money, and merely stipulate, with true
+Spanish propriety, that no gentlemen shall be admitted. This makes an
+excellent impression on the proprietor, who shows me up a winding
+stair with almost oppressive politeness. A little company of ladies,
+with lace mantillas drooping from their graceful heads, welcome me
+with that courteous cordiality which imparts to the slightest
+intercourse with the Spanish people (barring pickpockets) a flavor of
+fine pleasure. Because I am the last arrival and have the least claim,
+they insist on giving me the best place on the best balcony and are
+untiring in their explanations of all there is to be seen.
+
+The procession is already passing--civil guards, buglers, drummers,
+flower wreaths borne aloft, crosses of silver and crosses of gold,
+silken standards wrought with cunning embroideries. But now there come
+a sudden darkness, a gust of wind, and dash of rain. The ranks of
+_cofradias_ try in vain to keep their candles burning, the pupils from
+the colleges of the friars, with shining medals hung by green cords
+about their necks, peep roguishly back at the purple-stoled dignitary
+in a white wig, over whom an anxious friend from the street is trying
+to hold an umbrella. The Jesuit _seminaristas_ bear themselves more
+decorously, the tonsures gleaming like silver coins on their young
+heads. The canons lift their red robes from the wet, and even bishops
+make some furtive efforts to protect their gold-threaded chasubles.
+Meanwhile the people, that spectral throng of witches, serfs, feudal
+retainers, and left-overs from the Arabian Nights, press closer and
+closer, audaciously wrapping themselves from the rain in the rich old
+tapestries of France and Flanders, which have been hung along both
+sides of the route from a queer framework of emerald-bright poles and
+bars. The dark, wild, superstitious faces, massed and huddled
+together, peer out more uncannywise than ever from under these
+precious stuffs which brisk soldiers, with green feather brushes in
+their caps, as if to enable them to dust themselves off at short
+notice, are already taking down.
+
+All the church bells of the city are chiming solemnly, and the
+splendid _custodia_, "the most beautiful piece of plate in the world,"
+a treasure of filigree gold and jewels, enshrining the Host, draws
+near. It is preceded by a bevy of lovely children, not dressed, as at
+Granada, to represent angels, but as knights of chivalry. Their dainty
+suits of red and blue, slashed and puffed and trimmed with lace, flash
+through the silvery mist of rain. Motherly voices from the balconies
+call to them to carry their creamy caps upside down to shield the
+clustered plumes. Their little white sandals and gaiters splash
+merrily through the mud.
+
+A flamingo gleam across the slanting rain announces Cardinal Sancha,
+behind whom acolytes uplift a thronelike chair of crimson velvet and
+gold. Then follow ranks of taper-bearing soldiers, and my friends in
+the balcony call proudly down to different officers, a son, a husband,
+a blushing _novio_, whom they present to me then and there. The
+officers bow up and I bow down, while at this very moment comes that
+tinkling of silver bells which would, I had supposed, strike all
+Catholic Spaniards to their knees. It is perhaps too much to expect
+the people below to kneel in the puddles, but the vivacious chatter in
+the balconies never ceases, and the ladies beside me do not even cross
+themselves.
+
+The parade proceeds, a gorgeous group in wine-colored costume carrying
+great silver maces before the civic representation. The governor of
+the province is pointed out to me as a count of high degree, but in
+the instant when my awed glance falls upon him he gives a monstrous
+gape unbecoming even to nobility. The last of the spruce cadets, who
+close the line, have hardly passed when the thrifty housewife
+beseeches our aid in taking in out of the rain her scarlet balcony
+hanging, which proves to be the canopy of her best bed. But the sun is
+shining forth again when I return to the street to follow the
+procession into the cathedral.
+
+Already this gleam of fair weather has filled the _Calle de Comercio_
+with festive senoritas, arrayed in white mantillas and Manila shawls
+in honor of the bull-fight. Shops have been promptly opened for a
+holiday sale of the Toledo specialties--arabesqued swords and daggers,
+every variety of Damascened wares, and marchpane in form of mimic
+hams, fish, and serpents. The Toledo steel was famous in Shakespeare's
+day, even in the mouths of rustic dandies, whose geographical
+education had been neglected. When the clever rogue, Brainworm, in one
+of Jonson's comedies, would sell Stephen, the "country gull," a cheap
+rapier, he urges, "'Tis a most pure Toledo," and Stephen replies
+according to his folly, "I had rather it were a Spaniard." But onward
+is the glorious church, with its symmetric tower, whose spire wears a
+threefold crown of thorns. The exterior walls are hung, on this one
+day of the year, with wondrous tapestries that Queen Isabella knew. An
+army of beggars obstructs the crowd, which presses in, wave upon wave,
+through the deep, rich portals in whose ornamentation whole lifetimes
+have carved themselves away.
+
+Within this sublime temple, unsurpassed in Gothic art, where every
+pavement slab is worn by knees more than by footsteps, where every
+starry window has thrown its jewel lights on generations of believers,
+one would almost choose to dwell forever. One looks half enviously at
+recumbent alabaster bishops and kneeling marble knights, even at dim
+grotesques, who have rested in the heart of that grave beauty, in that
+atmosphere of prayer and chant, so long. Let these stone figures troop
+out into the troubled streets and toil awhile, and give the rest of us
+a chance to dream. But the multitude, which has knelt devoutly while
+_Su Majestad_ was being borne into the _Capilla Mayor_, comes pouring
+down the nave to salute the stone on which--ah me!--on which the
+Virgin set her blessed foot December 18, 666, when she alighted in
+Toledo cathedral to present the champion of the Immaculate Conception,
+St. Ildefonso, with a chasuble of celestial tissue. The gilded,
+turreted shrine containing that consecrated block towers almost to the
+height of the nave. A grating guards it from the devout, who can only
+touch it with their finger tips, which then they kiss. Hundreds, with
+reverend looks, stand waiting their turn--children, peasants,
+bull-fighters, decorated officers, refined ladies, men of cultured
+faces. The sound of kissing comes thick and fast. Heresy begins to
+beat in my blood.
+
+Not all that heavenward reach of columns and arches, not that
+multitudinous charm of art, can rid the imagination of a granite
+weight. I escape for a while to the purer church without, with its
+window-gold of sunshine and lapis-lazuli roof. When the mighty magnet
+draws me back again, those majestic aisles are empty, save for a tired
+sacristan or two, and the silence is broken only by a monotone of
+alternate chanting, from where, in the _Capilla Mayor_, two priests
+keep watch with _El Senor_.
+
+"He will be here all the afternoon," says the sacristan, "and nothing
+can be shown; but if you will come back to-morrow I will arrange for
+you to see even Our Lady's robes and gems."
+
+Come back! I felt myself graying to a shadow already. Of course I
+longed to see again that marvellous woodwork of the choir stalls, with
+all the conquest of Granada carved amid columns of jasper and under
+alabaster canopies, but I was smothered in a multitude of ghosts. They
+crowded from every side,--nuns, monks, soldiers, tyrants, magnificent
+archbishops, the martyred Leocadia, passionate Roderick, weeping
+Florinda, grim Count Julian, "my Cid," Pedro the Cruel, those five
+thousand Christian nobles and burghers of Toledo, slain, one by one,
+at the treacherous feast of Abderrahman, those hordes of flaming Jews
+writhing amid the Inquisition fagots. I had kept my Corpus. I had seen
+the greatest of all _autos sacramentales_, Calderon's masterpiece,
+"Life is a Dream."
+
+"On a single one of the Virgin's gold-wrought mantles," coaxed the
+sacristan, "are eighty-five thousand large pearls and as many
+sapphires, amethysts, and diamonds. I will arrange for you to see
+everything, when Our Lord is gone away."
+
+But no. I am a little particular about treasures. Since Toledo has
+lost the emerald table of King Solomon and that wondrous copy of the
+Psalms written upon gold leaf in a fluid made of melted rubies, I will
+not trouble the seven canons to unlock the seven doors of the
+cathedral sacristy. Let the Madonna enjoy her wealth alone. I have
+_pesetas_ enough for my ticket to Madrid.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+THE TERCENTENARY OF VELAZQUEZ
+
+     "It is a sombre and a weeping sky
+         That lowers above thee now, unhappy Spain;
+         Thy 'scutcheon proud is dashed with dimming rain;
+     Uncertain is thy path and deep thy sigh.
+     All that is mortal passes; glories die;
+         This hour thy destiny allots thee pain;
+         But for the worker of thy woes remain
+     Those retributions slowly forged on high.
+
+     "Put thou thy hope in God; what once thou wert
+         Thou yet shalt be by labor of thy sons
+           Patient and true, with purpose to atone;
+         And though the laurels of the loud-voiced guns
+     Are not with us to-day, this balms our hurt--
+           Cervantes and Velazquez are our own."
+                           --DUKE OF RIVAS: _For the Tercentenary_.
+
+
+The celebration, as planned, was comparatively simple, but enthusiasm
+grew with what it fed upon. The Knights of Santiago held the first
+place upon the programme, for into that high and exclusive order the
+artist had won entry by special grace of Philip IV. Even Spain has
+been affected by the modern movement for the destruction of
+traditions, and certain erudite meddlers, who have been delving in the
+State archives, declare that there is no truth in the following
+story, which, nevertheless, everybody has to tell.
+
+The legend runs that Velazquez became a knight of St. James by a royal
+compliment to the painter of _Las Meninas_. This picture, which seems
+no picture, but life itself, eternizes a single instant of time in the
+palace of Philip IV, that one instant before the fingers of the little
+Infanta have curved about the cup presented by her kneeling maid,
+before the great, tawny, half-awakened hound has decided to growl
+remonstrance under the teasing foot of the dwarf, before the reflected
+faces of king and queen have glided from the mirror, that fleeting
+instant while yet the courtier, passing down the gallery into the
+garden, turns on the threshold for a farewell smile, while yet the
+green velvet sleeve of the second dwarf, ugliest of all pet monsters,
+brushes the fair silken skirts of the daintiest of ladies-in-waiting,
+while yet the artist, so much more royal than royalty, flashes his
+dark-eyed glance upon the charming group.
+
+But if Velazquez looks prouder than a king, Philip proved himself here
+no uninspired painter. Asked if he found the work complete, the
+monarch shook his head, and, catching up the brush, marked the red
+cross of St. James on the pictured breast of the artist. So says the
+old wives' tale. At all events, in this way or another, the honor was
+conferred, with the result that on the three hundredth birthday of
+Velazquez, June 6, 1899, dukes and counts and marquises flocked to the
+Church of _Las Senoras Comendadoras_, where the antique Gregorian mass
+was chanted for the repose of their comrade's soul.
+
+By the latest theology, the "Master of all Good Workmen" would not
+have waited for this illustrious requiem before admitting the painter
+to "an aeon or two" of rest, but the Knights of Santiago have not yet
+accepted Kipling as their Pope.
+
+On the afternoon of the same day the _Sala de Velazquez_ was
+inaugurated in the _Museo del Prado_, taking, with additions, the room
+formerly known as the _Sala de la Reina Isabel_, long the _Salon
+Carre_ of Madrid, where Raphaels, Titians, Del Sartos, Duerers, Van
+Dycks, Correggios, and Rembrandts kept the Spanish Masters company.
+Portico and halls were adorned in honor of the occasion; the bust of
+Velazquez, embowered in laurels, myrtles, and roses, was placed midway
+in the Long Gallery, fronting the door of his own demesne; but the
+crown of the _fiesta_ consisted in the new and far superior
+arrangement of his pictures. The royal family and chief nobility, the
+Ministers of Government, the Diplomatic Corps, and delegations of
+foreign artists made a brilliant gathering. The address, pronounced by
+an eminent critic, reviewed what are known as the three styles of
+Velazquez. Never was art lecture more fortunate, for this _Museo_,
+holding as it does more than half the extant works of the great
+realist, with nearly all his masterpieces, enabled the speaker to
+illustrate every point from the original paintings. A rain of
+aristocratic poems followed, for a Spaniard is a lyrist born, and
+turns from prose to verse as easily as he changes his cuffs. As
+Monipodio says, in one of Cervantes' "Exemplary Tales": "A man has but
+to roll up his shirt-sleeves, set well to work, and he may turn off a
+couple of thousand verses in the snapping of a pair of scissors."
+These Dukes of Parnassus and Counts of Helicon did homage to the
+painter in graceful stanzas, not without many an allusion to Spain's
+troubled present. If only, as one sonneteer suggested, the soldiers
+of _Las Lanzas_ had marched out from their great gilt frame and gone
+against the foe! A programme of old-time music was rendered, and
+therewith the _Sala de Velazquez_ was declared open.
+
+To this, as to all galleries and monuments under State control, the
+public was invited free of charge for the week to come. The response
+was appreciative, gentility, soldiery, ragamuffins, bevies of
+schoolgirls with notebooks, and families of foreigners with opera
+glasses grouping themselves in picturesque variety, day after day,
+before the art treasures of Madrid, while beggars sat in joyful squads
+on the steps of the museums, collecting the fees which the doorkeepers
+refused.
+
+During these seven days, artistic and social festivals in honor of
+Velazquez abounded, not only in Madrid, but throughout Spain. Palma
+must needs get up, with photographs and the like, a Velazquez
+exposition, and Seville, insisting on her mother rights, must arrange
+a belated funeral, with mass and sermon and a tomb of laurels and
+flowers, surmounted by brushes, palette, and the cloak and helmet of
+the Order of Santiago. In the capital the _Circulo de Bellas Artes_
+sumptuously breakfasted the artists from abroad. The dainties were
+spiced with speeches, guitars, ballet, gypsy songs and dances,
+congratulatory telegrams, and a letter posted from Parnassus by Don
+Diego himself. Two valuable new books on Velazquez suddenly appeared
+in the shop windows, and such periodicals as _La Ilustracion_, _Blanco
+y Negro_, _La Vida Literaria_, and _El Nuevo Mundo_ vied with one
+another in illustrated numbers, while even the one-cent dailies came
+out with specials devoted to Velazquez biography and criticism. The
+Academy of San Fernando rendered a musical programme of Velazquez
+date, the Queen Regent issued five hundred invitations to an
+orchestral concert in the Royal Palace, and there was talk, which
+failed to fructify, of a grand masquerade ball, where the costumes
+should be copied from the Velazquez paintings and the dances should be
+those stepped by the court of Philip IV.
+
+The closing ceremony of the week was the unveiling of the new statue
+of Velazquez. Paris owes to Fremiot an equestrian statue of the
+painter, who, like Shakespeare in his Paris statue, is made to look
+very like a Frenchman, but the horse is of the most spirited Spanish
+type. A younger Velazquez may be seen in Seville, at home among the
+orange trees, and the _Palacio de la Biblioteca y Museos Nacionales_
+in Madrid shows a statue from the hand of Garcia. Still another, an
+arrogant, striding figure, was standing in the studio of Benlliure,
+ready for its journey to the Paris exposition. The tercentenary
+statue, by Marinas, is also true to that haughty look of Velazquez. It
+represents him seated, brush and palette in hand, the winds lifting
+from his ears those long, clustering falls of hair, as if to let him
+hear the praises of posterity. Little he cares for praises! That
+artist's look sees nothing but his task.
+
+The unveiling took place late on Wednesday afternoon, in front of the
+_Museo del Prado_, where the statue stands. A turquoise sky and a
+light breeze put all the world in happy humor. The long facade of the
+_Museo_ was hung with beautiful tapestries. Handsome medallions bore
+the names of painters associated in one way or another with
+Velazquez--Herrera el Viejo, his first master in Seville; Pacheco, his
+second Sevillian teacher and his father-in-law; Luis Tristan of
+Toledo, for whom he had an enthusiastic admiration; El Greco, that
+startling mannerist, whose penetrating portraiture of faces, even
+whose extraordinary effects in coloring were not without influence on
+the younger man; Zurbaran, his almost exact contemporary, enamored no
+less than Velazquez himself of the new realism emanating from the
+great and terrible Ribera; Murillo, whose developing genius the
+favored Court painter, too high-hearted for envy, protected and
+encouraged, and Alonzo Cano, the impetuous artist of Granada, to whom,
+too, Velazquez was friend and benefactor.
+
+Spanish colors and escutcheons were everywhere. In decorated tribunes
+sat the royal family and the choicest of Madrid society, with the
+members of the _Circulo de Bellas Artes_, who were the hosts of the
+day, and with distinguished guests from the provinces and abroad.
+Romero Robledo, as President of the Society of Fine Arts, welcomed the
+Queen, closing his brief address with the following words: "Never,
+senora, will your exalted sentiments be able to blend with those of
+the Spanish people in nobler hour than this, commemorating him who is
+forever a living national glory and who receives enthusiastic
+testimony of admiration from all the civilized world." Their Majesties
+drew upon the cords, the two silken banners parted, and the statue was
+revealed to the applauding multitude. While the royal group
+congratulated the sculptor, the ambassadors of Austria and Germany
+laid magnificent wreaths, fashioned with a due regard to the colors of
+their respective nations, at the feet of Velazquez. The eminent French
+artists, Carolus Duran and Jean Paul Laurens, bore a crown from France
+and delighted the audience by declaring that "the painter of the
+Spanish king was himself the king of painters." Nothing since the war
+had gladdened Spain more than the presence and praises of these two
+famous Parisians; the reverence of Madrid for Paris is profound. The
+tributes of Rome and London excited far less enthusiasm. Still more
+wreaths, and more and more, were deposited by a procession of
+delegates from the art societies of all Spain, headed by Seville, the
+bands playing merrily meanwhile, until that stately form of bronze
+seemed to rise from out a hill of laurels, ribbons, and flowers.
+
+This is the first Velazquez celebration which has had universal
+recognition. The painter was hardly known to Europe at large until the
+day of Fernando VII, who was induced by his art-loving wife, Isabel of
+Braganza, to send the pictures from the royal palaces, all those
+accumulated treasures of the Austrian monarchs, to the empty building,
+designed for a natural history museum, in the _Prado_. This long, low
+edifice is now one of the most glorious shrines of art in the world.
+It is a collection of masterpieces, showing the splendors that are
+rather than the processes by which they came to be. There is only one
+Fra Angelico, but there are ten Raphaels and four times as many
+Titians. In the Netherlands, no less than in Italy, the Spanish sway
+gathered rich spoils. There are a score of Van Dycks, threescore of
+those precious little canvases by Teniers, while as for Rubens, he
+blazes in some sixty-four Christian saints, heathen goddesses, and
+human sinners, all with a strong family resemblance. But although the
+Italian and Flemish schools are so magnificently represented, the
+wealth of Spanish painting is what overwhelms the visitor. Here are
+four rooms filled with the works of Goya--whose bones, by the way,
+arrived in Madrid from France for final sepulture a few days before
+the celebration. Little more heed was paid to this advent than to that
+of the United States ambassador, who, it may be noted, was not
+presented to the Queen until the Velazquez jubilee was well over. But
+as for Goya, this unnoised entry was appropriate enough, for he, whom
+De Amicis has called "the last flame-colored flash of Spanish genius,"
+used, during his later life, to make the long journey from Bordeaux to
+Madrid every week for no other purpose than to gloat upon the Sunday
+bull-fight, coming and going without speech or handshake, only a pair
+of fierce, bloodthirsty eyes. This fiery Aragonese painted
+bull-fights, battles, executions, and Inquisition tortures with blacks
+that make one shudder and reds that make one sick. He painted the
+brutal side of pleasure as well as of pain, filling broad canvases
+with dancing, feasting peasants--canvases that smell of wine and
+garlic, and all but send out a roar of drunken song and laughter.
+
+  [Illustration: GYPSY TENANTS OF AN ARAB PALACE]
+
+Goya lived in the day of Charles IV, whose court painter he was, and
+against whom this natural caricaturist must have borne a special
+grudge, so sarcastic are his portraits of the royal family; but his
+genius is allied to that of Velazquez's powerful contemporary, Ribera.
+The _Museo del Prado_ has abundant material for a Ribera _sala_, since
+it possesses no less than fifty-eight of his works, but the official
+put in charge of it would probably go mad. The paintings are mercifully
+scattered and, well for such of us as may be disposed to flight, can
+be recognized from afar by their dusks and pallors--ascetic faces
+gleaming out from sable backgrounds, wasted limbs of naked saints
+tracing livid lines in the gloom of caverns, and, against an
+atmosphere dark as the frown of God, the ghastly flesh of tortured
+martyrs, and dead Christs drooping stiffly to the linen winding-sheet.
+One is appalled at the entrance of the Long Gallery by the two vast,
+confronting canvases of Prometheus, less a Titan than a convulsion of
+Titanic agony, and of Ixion, crushed not only beneath the wheel, but
+under that cold, tremendous blackness of hell made actual. Far down
+one side of the hall they stretch, those paintings upon paintings of
+torment, emaciation, the half-crazed visionary, and the revolting
+corpse. But there is no escape from Ribera, he who
+
+                                        "tainted
+     His brush with all the blood of all the sainted."
+
+Turning back to the Spanish cabinets that open from the vestibule we
+come upon a piteous San Sebastian, the blanched young form bound fast
+and already nailed by arrows to the ebon-hued trunk of a leafless
+tree. Descending the staircase to the _Sala de Alfonso XII_, we must
+pass an attenuated old anchoress, whose sunken face and praying hands
+have the very tint of the skulls that form the only ornaments, almost
+the only furniture, of her dreary cave. We may as well brave the
+terrors of this first half of the Long Gallery, where El Greco's livid
+greens will at least divert attention, and where, opposite the
+collection of Riberas, wait the gracious Murillos to comfort and
+uplift.
+
+Yet Ribera, ruffian though he was, is not solely and exclusively a
+nightmare artist. He could give sweetest and most tranquil color when
+he chose, as his "Jacob's Dream" here testifies, with the dim gold of
+its angel-peopled ladder; and for all the spirit of bigotry that
+clouds his work, there is Catholic fervor in these pictures and
+masterly truthfulness up to the point where the senses need the
+interpretation of the soul. There is more than anatomy, too, in these
+starved old saints; there is the dread of judgment. Ribera depicts
+supernatural terror, where Goya shows the animal shock of death.
+
+Another Spanish phase appears in Zurbaran. In his most effective work
+we have not Goya's blood color, nor Ribera's blacks, nor the celestial
+violets of Juan de Joanes, but the grays of the monastic renunciation,
+the twilight that is as far from rapture as from anguish. His gowned,
+cowled, corded figures pass before the eye in the pale tints of the
+cloister. The shadow of cathedral walls is over them. The _Prado_ has
+been strangely indifferent to Zurbaran, who is far more fully
+represented in the galleries of Andalusia; but it has in its baker's
+dozen two important and characteristic works, both visions of San
+Pedro Nolasco. In one the entranced saint, whose figure might be
+carved in stone,--stone on which ray from stained-glass window never
+fell,--gazes upon an angel, whose vesture, crossed by a dark green
+scarf, is flushed with the faintest rose. In the second the sombre
+cell is illuminated for an instant by the apparition of St. Peter the
+Apostle, head downward, as in his crucifixion, his naked form dazzling
+against a vague redness of light like a memory of pain.
+
+One glance at a wall aglow with Madonna blues reminds us that Spanish
+sacred art does not culminate in Ribera nor in Zurbaran. The Christian
+faith has had almost as pure, poetic, and spiritual an utterance in
+the land of the Inquisition as in Italy itself. This is not Murillo's
+hour; it is the triumph of Velazquez and the realists that Spain is
+celebrating to-day; but none the less it is a joy of joys to walk by
+the Murillos on the way to the laurelled bust and the crowded _sala_.
+These are the pictures that are rather in heaven than earth. Where
+Mary, divine in her virginal loveliness, is not upborne among the
+golden clouds, the radiant-plumed angel kneels on her cottage floor
+and the wings of the descending dove beat whiteness through the air.
+Here is realism and more. The Mater Dolorosa has those luminous
+sea-blue eyes of Andalusia, but they tell of holy tears. The Crucified
+is no mere sufferer, but the suffering Son of God, and the crown of
+thorns, while dripping blood, haloes his brows with the redemption of
+the world.
+
+The genius of Velazquez dwelt not above the earth, but upon it, in the
+heart of its most brilliant life. He was no dreamer of dreams; he
+"painted the thing as he saw it," and with what sure eyes he saw, and
+with what a firm and glowing brush he painted! His _sala_ surrounds us
+at once with an atmosphere of brightness, beauty, elegance, variety,
+delight. His work is so superb, so supreme, that, like perfect
+manners, it puts even the humblest of us at our ease. We are not
+artists, but we seem to understand Velazquez.
+
+Of course we don't. No knight of the palette would admit it for an
+instant. What can the rabble know of the mysterious compoundings and
+touchings from which sprang these splendors of color that outshine the
+centuries? Young men with streaming hair are continually escorting
+awed-looking senoras about the room, discoursing with dramatic
+vehemence on the "periods" of the Master's work. As a youth at
+Seville, they explain, Velazquez had of necessity taken religious
+subjects, for the Church was the chief patron of art in Andalusia;
+but his natural bent even then displayed itself in tavern studies and
+sketches of popular types, as the "Water-seller of Seville" and the
+"Old Woman Frying Eggs." Of his early religious pieces the
+archbishop's palace of Seville keeps "San Ildefonso Receiving the
+Chasuble from the Hands of the Virgin," and the National Gallery of
+London secured "Christ in the House of Martha," but "The Adoration of
+the Kings" hangs here at our right as we enter the Velazquez _sala_. A
+little stiff, say these accomplished critics, with a suggestion of the
+dry manner of his master, Pacheco, but bear you in mind that this is
+the production of a youth of twenty. It is obvious, too, that
+Andalusians, not celestial visions, served him as models.
+
+A longing to see the Tintorets and Titians, those starry treasures of
+the dark Escorial, drew him to Madrid at twenty-three. Here he was
+fortunate in finding friends, who brought his portraits to the notice
+of Philip IV, a dissolute boy ruled by the Count-Duke Olivares. Youth
+inclines to youth. Velazquez was appointed painter to the king at the
+same salary as that paid to the royal barber, and henceforth he had no
+care in life but to paint. And how he painted! His first portraits of
+Philip show a blond young face, with high brow, curled mustache, the
+long Hapsburg chin, and eyes that hint strange secrets. Again and
+again and again Velazquez traced those Austrian features, while the
+years stamped them ever more deeply with lines of pride and sin--a
+tragic face in the end as it was ill-omened in the beginning. But the
+masterpiece of Velazquez's twenties is "The Drunkards," a scene of
+peasant revelry where the young are gloriously tipsy and the old are
+on the point of maudlin tears. Here it is, _Los Borrachos_, farther
+to the right. In looking on it one remembers that a contemporary
+realist, in the Protestant island which has often been so sharp a
+thorn in Spain's side, likewise crowned the achievement of his
+springtime by a group of topers, Prince Hal and Falstaff and their
+immortal crew.
+
+Not the influence of Rubens, who spent nine months in Spain in
+1628-29, painting like the wind, nor a visit to the Holy Land of
+Raphael and Michael Angelo could make Velazquez other than he was.
+This "Vulcan's Forge," which we see here, painted in Italy, is
+mythological only in the title. Back he came at the royal summons, to
+paint more portraits--Philip over and over, on foot, on horseback,
+half length, full length, all lengths; the winsome Infante Baltasar,
+as a toddling baby with his dwarf, as a gallant little soldier,
+hunter, horseman, and in the princely dignity of fourteen, when he had
+but three more years to live; the sad French queen, the king's
+brother, the magnificent Olivares, the sculptor Montanes, counts,
+dukes, buffoons. Within these twenty years Velazquez produced his two
+most famous works of religious tenor--"Christ Bound to the Column," a
+"captain jewel" of the London National Gallery, and that majestic
+"Crucifixion" before which Spaniards in the _Prado_ bare their heads.
+But the crown of this period is _Las Lanzas_, or "The Surrender of
+Breda," which holds the place of honor on the wall fronting the door.
+It is vivid past all praise, and nobler than any battle scene in its
+beauty of generosity. The influence of Italy had told especially on
+Velazquez's backgrounds. The bright, far landscapes opening out beyond
+his portrayed figures, especially those on horseback,--and his horses
+are as lifelike as his dogs,--give to the _sala_ an exhilarating
+effect of free space and wide horizons.
+
+In 1650 he made his second visit to Rome, where he portrayed Pope
+Innocent X. Nine years of glorious work in Spain remained to him.
+Still he painted the king, even at his royal prayers, for which there
+was full need, and the young Austrian queen, who had succeeded the
+dead mother of the dead Baltasar. On that happy left-hand wall of the
+_sala_ shines, in all its vigorous grace, the "Mercury and Argos," but
+if the hundred eyes of Argos are ready to close, their place is
+supplied by the terrible scrutiny of a row of portraits, embarrassing
+the boldest of us out of note-taking. How those pairs of pursuing
+black eyes, sage and keen and mocking, stare the starers out of
+countenance! The series of pet dwarfs is here, old AEsop, and Menippus,
+and the sly buffoon, "Don Juan of Austria." Of these two wonder-works,
+_Las Meninas_, "The Maids of Honor," has a room to itself, and thus
+_Las Hilanderas_, "The Weavers," becomes the central magnet of this
+returning wall. A saint picture and even a coronation of the Virgin
+cannot draw the crowds from before this ultimate triumph of the
+actual--this factory interior, where a group of peasant women fashion
+tapestries, while a broad shaft of sunshine works miracles in color.
+
+And this, too, is Spanish. Cervantes is as true a facet of many-sided
+Spain as Calderon, and Velazquez as Murillo. With all the national
+propensity to emotion and exaggeration, Spaniards are a truth-seeing
+people. The popular _coplas_ are more often satiric than sentimental.
+They like to bite through to the kernel of fact, even when it is
+bitter. Velazquez, with his rich and noble realism, is of legitimate
+descent.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+CHORAL GAMES OF SPANISH CHILDREN
+
+     "Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
+     She turns to favor and to prettiness."
+                                    --SHAKESPEARE: _Hamlet_.
+
+
+On one of my last afternoons in Madrid, I visited again my early
+haunts in the _Buen Retiro_, for a farewell sight of the children
+there at play. After all, it is one of the prettiest things to be seen
+in Spain, these graceful, passionate, dramatic little creatures
+dancing in tireless circles, and piping those songs that every _nina_
+knows, without being able to tell when or where or from whom she
+learned them. Only very small boys, as a rule, join the girls in these
+fairy rings, though occasionally I found a troop of urchins marching
+to a lusty chorus of their own. One, which I heard in Madrid, but
+whose parrots are more suggestive of Seville, runs something like
+this:--
+
+     "In the street they call Toledo
+         Is a famous school for boys,
+     Chundarata, chundarata,
+         Chundarata, chun-chun;
+     Where all we lads are going
+         With a most heroic noise,
+     Chundarata, chundarata,
+         Chundarata, chun-chun.
+
+     "And the parrots on their perches,
+         They mock us as we go,
+     Chundarata, chundarata,
+         Chundarata, chun-chun.
+     'I hate my school,' whines Polly,
+         'For my master beats me so,'
+     Chundarata, chundarata,
+         Chundarata, chun-chun."
+
+Another, which came to me in fragments, is sung in playing soldier.
+
+     "The Catalans are coming,
+       Marching two by two.
+     All who hear the drumming
+       Tiptoe for a view.
+           Ay, ay!
+       Tiptoe for a view.
+     Red and yellow banners,
+         Pennies very few.
+           Ay, ay!
+         Pennies very few.
+
+     "Red and yellow banners!
+       The Moon comes out to see.
+     If moons had better manners,
+       She'd take me on her knee.
+           Ay, ay!
+       Take me on her knee.
+     She peeps through purple shutters,
+       Would I were tall as she!
+           Ay, ay!
+       Would I were tall as she!
+
+     "Soldiers need not learn letters,
+       Nor any schooly thing,
+     But unless they mind their betters,
+       In golden chains they'll swing.
+           Ay, ay!
+       In golden chains they'll swing.
+     Or sit in silver fetters,
+       Presents from the King.
+           Ay, ay!
+       Presents from the King."
+
+This ironic touch, so characteristically Spanish, reappears in many of
+the games, as in _A La Limon_, known throughout the Peninsula and the
+Antilles. I should expect to find it, too, in corners of Mexico, South
+America, the Philippines, wherever the Spanish oppressor has trod and
+the oppressor's children have sported in the sun. The little players,
+ranged in two rows, each row hand in hand, dance the one toward the
+other and retreat, singing responsively. With their last couplet, the
+children of the first line raise their arms, forming arches, and the
+children of the second line, letting go hands, dance under these
+arches as they respond.
+
+     1.   "_A la limon, a la limon!_
+        All broken is our bright fountain.
+
+     2.   "_A la limon, a la limon!_
+        Give orders to have it mended.
+
+     1.   "_A la limon, a la limon!_
+        We haven't a bit of money.
+
+     2.   "_A la limon, a la limon!_
+        But we have money in plenty.
+
+     1.   "_A la limon, a la limon!_
+        What kind of money may yours be?
+
+     2.   "_A la limon, a la limon!_
+        Oh, ours is money of eggshells.
+
+     1.   "_A la limon, a la limon!_
+        An arch for the lords and ladies.
+
+     2.   "_A la limon, a la limon!_
+        Right merrily we pass under."
+
+Another lyric dialogue, whose fun is spent on the lean purses of
+students and the happy-go-lucky life of Andalusia, must have
+originated since the overthrow, in 1892, of the leaning tower of
+Saragossa. The stanzas are sung alternately by two rows of children,
+advancing toward each other and retreating with a dancing step.
+
+     1.  "In Saragossa
+         --Oh, what a pity!--
+         Has fallen the tower,
+         Pride of the city.
+
+     2.  "Fell it by tempest,
+         Fairies or witches,
+         The students will raise it,
+         For students have riches.
+
+     1.  "Call on the students,
+         Call louder and louder!
+         They've only two coppers
+         To buy them a chowder.
+
+     2.  "Chowder of students
+         Is sweeter than honey,
+         But the gay Andalusians
+         Have plenty of money.
+
+     1.  "The gay Andalusians
+         Have fiddle and ballad,
+         But only two coppers
+         To buy them a salad.
+
+     2.  "In Saragossa
+         --Oh, what a pity!--
+         Has fallen the tower,
+         Pride of the city."
+
+Unchildlike innuendoes pervade that curious game of many variants in
+which the priest and abbess play a leading part. Two children are
+chosen for these dignitaries, while the others call out the names of
+such flowers, fruits, or vegetables as each may decide to personate.
+"I'm a cabbage." "I'm a jasmine." "I'm a cherry." Then the little
+sinners kneel in a circle, crying:--
+
+     "Through the door, up the stairs,
+     On the floor, say your prayers!"
+
+and chant some childish gibberish, during which no one must laugh on
+pain of a forfeit. After this, all sing:--
+
+     "The house of the priest it cracked like a cup.
+     Half fell down and half stood up.
+     Sir Priest, Sir Priest, now tell us aright,
+     In whose house did you sleep last night?
+
+     _Priest._ With the rose slept I.
+
+     _Rose._         Fie, O fie!
+               I never saw your tonsured head.
+
+     _Priest._ Then with whom did you make your bed?
+
+     _Rose._         With the Pink.
+
+     _Pink._         I should think!
+               I never saw your petals red.
+
+     _Rose._   Then with whom did you make your bed?
+
+     _Pink._         With the lily.
+
+     _Lily._         Don't be silly!
+               I never heard your fragrant tread.
+
+     _Pink._   Then with whom did you make your bed?
+
+     _Lily._         With the priest.
+
+     _Priest._       Little beast!
+               If I went near you, may I fall dead!
+
+     _Lily._   Then with whom did you make your bed?
+
+     _Priest._       With the abbess, I.
+
+     _Abbess._       Oh, you lie!"
+
+But this seems to be the conclusion of the game.
+
+The most of these choral songs, however, are sweet and innocent,
+concerned with the natural interests of childhood, as this:--
+
+     "The shepherdess rose lightly
+       Laran--laran--larito,
+     The shepherdess rose lightly
+       From off her heather seat--O.
+
+     "Her goats went leaping homeward,
+       Laran--laran--larito,
+     Her goats went leaping homeward
+       On nimble little feet--O.
+
+     "With strong young hands she milked them,
+       Laran--laran--larito,
+     With strong young hands she milked them
+       And made a cheese for treat--O.
+
+     "The kitty watched and wondered,
+       Laran--laran--larito,
+     The kitty crept and pondered
+       If it were good to eat--O.
+
+     "The kitty sprang upon it,
+       Laran--laran--larito,
+     The kitty sprang upon it
+       And made a wreck complete--O.
+
+     "Scat, scat, you naughty kitty!
+       Laran--laran--larito,
+     Scat, scat, you naughty kitty!
+       Are stolen cheeses sweet--O?"
+
+The baby girls have a song of their own, which, as a blending of
+doll-play, gymnastics, music, mathematics, and religion, leaves little
+to be desired.
+
+     "Oh, I have a dolly, and she is dressed in blue,
+     With a fluff of satin on her white silk shoe,
+     And a lace mantilla to make my dolly gay,
+     When I take her dancing this way, this way, this way.
+                              [_Dances Dolly in time to the music._
+
+     "2 and 2 are 4, 4 and 2 are 6,
+     6 and 2 are 8, and 8 is 16,
+     And 8 is 24, and 8 is 32!
+       Thirty-two! Thirty-two!
+     Blessed souls, I kneel to you.                      [_Kneels._
+
+     "When she goes out walking in her Manila shawl,
+     My Andalusian dolly is quite the queen of all.
+     Gypsies, dukes, and candy-men bow down in a row,
+     While my dolly fans herself so and so and so.
+                                [_Fans Dolly in time to the music._
+
+     "2 and 2 are 4, 4 and 2 are 6,
+     6 and 2 are 8, and 8 is 16,
+     And 8 is 24, and 8 is 24!
+       Twenty-four! Twenty-four!
+     Blessed souls, I rise once more."
+
+They have a number of bird-games, through which they flit and flutter
+with an airy grace that wings could hardly better. In one, the
+children form a circle, with "the little bird Pinta" in the centre.
+The chorus, dancing lightly around her, sings the first stanza, and
+Pinta, while passing about the circle to make her choice, sings the
+rest, with the suggested action. The child chosen becomes Pinta in
+turn.
+
+     _Chorus._   "The little bird Pinta was poising
+                 On a scented green lemon-tree spray.
+                 She picked the leaf and the blossom,
+                 And chanted a roundelay.
+
+     _Pinta._      "Song in the land!
+                 While April is yet a newcomer,
+                   O mate of my summer,
+                   Give to me a hand now,
+                   Both hands I seek, O!
+                   Take a Spanish kiss, now,
+                   On the rosy cheek, O!"
+
+Equally pretty and simple is the Andalusian play of "Little White
+Pigeons." The children form in two rows, which face each other some
+ten or twelve yards apart. One row sings the first stanza, dancing
+forward and slipping under the "golden arches" made by the lifted arms
+of the second row. The second row sings and dances in turn, passing
+under the "silver arches" to Granada.
+
+     1.  "Little white pigeons
+           Are dreaming of Seville,
+         Sun in the palm tree,
+           Roses and revel.
+         Lift up the arches,
+           Gold as the weather.
+         Little white pigeons
+           Come flying together.
+
+     2.  "Little white pigeons
+           Dream of Granada,
+         Glistening snows on
+           Sierra Nevada.
+         Lift up the arches,
+           Silver as fountains.
+         Little white pigeons
+           Fly to the mountains."
+
+The Spanish form of "Blindman's Buff" begins with "giving the pebble"
+to determine who shall be the Blind Hen. A child shuts in one hand the
+pebble and then presents both little fists to the other children
+passing in file. Each, while all sing the first stanza given below,
+softly touches first one of the hands, then the other, and finally
+slaps the one chosen. If this is empty, she passes on. If it holds the
+pebble, she must take it and be the one to offer the hands. The child
+who finally remains with the pebble in her possession, after all have
+passed, is the Blind Hen. As the game goes on, the children tease the
+Blind Hen, who, of course, is trying to catch them, by singing the
+second stanza given below.
+
+             1
+
+     "Pebble, O pebble!
+     Where may it be?
+     Pebble, O pebble!
+     Come not to me!
+     Tell me, my mother,
+     Which hand to choose.
+     This or the other?
+     That I refuse,
+     This hand I choose."
+
+             2
+
+     "She's lost her thimble,
+     Little Blind Hen.
+     Better be nimble!
+     Try it again!
+     Who'll bring a taper
+     For the Blind Hen?
+     Scamper and caper!
+     Try it again!
+     Try it again!"
+
+Other games as well known to American children as "Blindman's Buff"
+are played by little Spaniards. They understand how to make the
+"hand-chair" and "drop the button," only their button is usually a
+ring. "Hide the Handkerchief" carries with it the familiar cries of
+_hot_ and _cold_, but our "Puss in the Corner" becomes "A Cottage to
+Rent."
+
+     "'Cottage to rent?'
+       'Try the other side,
+     You see that this
+       Is occupied.'"
+
+In religious Seville the dialogue runs:--
+
+     "'A candle here?'
+       'Over there.'
+     'A candle here?'
+       'Otherwhere.'
+
+     "'Candle, a candle!'
+       'Loss on loss.'
+     'Where is light?'
+       'In the Holy Cross.'"
+
+For all these games, common to childhood the world over, have a
+rhyming element in the Peninsula, where, indeed, the ordinary
+intercourse of children often carries verses with it. For instance,
+our youngsters are content with cries of "Tell-tale!" and
+"Indian-giver!" but under similar provocation the fierce little
+nurslings of Catholic Spain will sing:--
+
+       "Tell-tale! Tell-tale!
+       In hell you'll be served right,
+     All day fed on mouldy bread,
+       And pounded all the night!"
+
+The other baby-curse is to the same effect:--
+
+     "He who gives and takes again,
+     Long in hell may he remain!
+     He who gives and takes once more,
+     May we hear him beat on the Devil's door!"
+
+The Spanish form of tag has a touch of mythological grace. One child,
+chosen by lot, is the Moon, and must keep within the shadow. The
+others, Morning-stars, are safe only in the lighted spaces. The game
+is for the Morning-stars to run into the shadow, daring the Moon,
+who, if successful in catching one, becomes a Morning-star in turn,
+and passes out into the light, leaving the one caught to act the part
+of Moon. As the Morning-stars run in and out of the Moon's domain,
+they sing over and over the following stanza:--
+
+     "O the Moon and the Morning-stars!
+     O the Moon and the Morning-stars!
+         Who dares to tread--O
+         Within the shadow?"
+
+Even in swinging, the little girls who push carry on a musical
+dialogue with the happy holder of the seat.
+
+     "'Say good-day, say good-day
+     To Miss Fannie Fly-away!
+     At the door the guests are met,
+     But the table is not set.
+     Put the stew upon the fire.
+     Higher, higher, higher, higher!
+     Now come down, down, down, down,
+     Or the dinner will all burn brown.
+     Soup and bread! soup and bread!
+     I know a plot of roses red,
+     Red as any hero's sword,
+     Or the blood of our Holy Lord.
+     Where art thou, on the wing?'
+     'No, I'm sitting in the swing.'
+     'Who're thy playmates way up there?'
+     'Swallows skimming through the air.'
+     'Down, come down! The stew will burn.
+     Let the rest of us have a turn.'"
+
+In playing "Hide and Seek," the seeker must first sit in a drooping
+attitude with covered eyes, while the others stand about and threaten
+to strike him if he peeps:--
+
+     "Oil-cruet! Don't do it! _Ras con ras!_
+     Pepper-pot? Peep not! _Ras con ras!_"
+
+The menacing little fists are then suddenly withdrawn.
+
+         "No, no! Not a blow!
+     But a pinch on the arm will do no harm.
+         Now let the birdies take alarm!"
+
+And off scamper the hiders to their chosen nooks. When they are safely
+tucked away, the indispensable Mother, standing by, sings to the
+seeker that stanza which is his signal for the start:--
+
+     "My little birds of the mountain
+       Forth from the cage are flown.
+     My little birds of the mountain
+       Have left me all alone."
+
+Spanish forfeit games are numerous and ingenious. In one of these,
+called "The Toilet," the players take the names of Mirror, Brush,
+Comb, Towel, Soap, and other essentials, including Jesus, Devil, and
+Man Alive, these last for exclamatory purposes. As each is mentioned
+by the leader of the game, he must rise instantly, on pain of forfeit,
+no matter how fast the speaker may be rattling on: "_Jesus!_ When will
+that _devil_ of a _maid_ bring me my _powder_ and _perfumes_?"
+Characteristic titles of other forfeit games are, "The Key of Rome,"
+"The Fan," "The Fountain," "I Saw my Love Last Night." The sentences
+vary from such gentle penalties as "The Caress of Cadiz" to the
+predicament of putting three feet on the wall at once.
+
+The choral verses are often mere nonsense.
+
+     "Pipe away! pipe away!
+     Let us play a little play!
+     What will we play?
+     We'll cut our hands away.
+     Who cut them, who?
+     Rain from out the blue.
+     Where is the rain?
+     Hens drank it up again.
+     Hens? And where are they?
+     Gone their eggs to lay.
+     Who will eat them up?
+     Friars when they sup.
+     What do friars do?
+     Sing 'gori-gori-goo.'"
+
+Watching Spanish children, one may see two little girls, say White
+Rose and Sweetness, fly out into an open space, where White Rose
+carefully places the tips of her small shoes in touch with those of
+Sweetness. Then they clasp hands, fling their little bodies as far
+back as these conditions permit, and whirl round and round, singing
+lustily--until they are overcome by giddiness--the following
+rigmarole, or one of its variants:--
+
+         "Titirinela, if you please!
+         Titirinela, bread and cheese:
+     'What is your father's worshipful name?'
+     'Sir Red-pepper, who kisses your hands.'
+     'And how does he call his beautiful dame?'
+     'Lady Cinnamon, at your commands.'
+         Titirinela, toe to toe!
+         Titirinela, round we go!"
+
+  [Illustration: FROM THE TOWER OF GOLD DOWN THE GUADALQUIVIR]
+
+Even in some of their prettiest games the verses have a childish
+incoherence. Some dozen little girls form a circle, for instance, with
+the Butterfly in the centre. They lift her dress-skirt by the border,
+and hold it outspread about her. Another child, on the outside, runs
+around and around the ring, singing:--
+
+     "Who are these chatterers?
+       Oh, such a number!
+     Not by day nor by night
+       Do they let me slumber.
+     They're daughters of the Moorish king,
+       Who search the garden-close
+     For lovely Lady Ana,
+       The sweetest thing that grows.
+     She's opening the jasmine
+       And shutting up the rose."
+
+Then the children suddenly lift their hands, which are holding
+Butterfly's frock, so as to envelop her head in the folds. The little
+singer outside continues:--
+
+     "Butterfly, butterfly,
+       Dressed in rose-petals!
+     Is it on candle-flame
+       Butterfly settles?
+     How many shirts
+       Have you woven of rain?
+     Weave me another
+       Ere I call you again."
+
+These songs are repeated seven times. Then comes another stanza:--
+
+     "Now that Lady Ana
+       Walks in garden sweet,
+     Gathering the roses
+       Whose dew is on her feet,
+     Butterfly, butterfly,
+       Can you catch us? Try it, try!"
+
+With this the circle breaks and scatters, while Butterfly, blinded as
+she is by the folds of her own skirt wrapped about her head, does her
+best to overtake some one, who shall then become her successor.
+
+Many of the games are simplicity itself. Often the play is merely a
+circle dance, sometimes ending in a sudden kneeling or sitting on the
+ground, One of the songs accompanying this dance runs:--
+
+     "Potatoes and salt must little folks eat,
+       While the grown-up people dine
+     Off lemons and chestnuts and oranges sweet,
+       With cocoanut milk for wine.
+     On the ground do we take our seat,
+       We're at your feet, we're at your feet."
+
+Sometimes a line of children will form across the street and run, hand
+in hand, down its length, singing:--
+
+     "We have closed the street
+       And no one may pass,
+     Only my grandpa
+       Leading his ass
+     Laden with oranges
+           Fresh from the trees.
+         Tilin! Tilin!
+           Down on our knees!
+     Tilin! Tilin! Tilin! Tilin!
+     The holy bell of San Agustin!"
+
+A play for four weans, training them early to the "eternal Spanish
+contradiction," consists in holding a handkerchief by its four
+corners, while one of them sings:--
+
+         "Pull and slacken!
+     I've lost my treasure store.
+         Pull and slacken!
+     I'm going to earn some more.
+         _Slacken!_"
+
+And at this, the other three children must _pull_, on pain of forfeit,
+whereas if the word is _pull_, their business is to _slacken_.
+
+They have a grasshopper game, where they jump about with their hands
+clasped under their knees, singing:--
+
+     "Grasshopper sent me an invitation
+     To come and share his occupation.
+     Grasshopper dear, how could I say no?
+     Grasshopper, grasshopper, here I go!"
+
+In much the same fashion they play "Turkey," gobbling as they hop.
+
+I never found them "playing house" precisely after the manner of our
+own little girls, but there are many variants for the dialogue and
+songs in their game of "Washerwoman." The Mother says: "Mariquilla,
+I'm going out to the river to wash. While I am gone, you must sweep
+and tidy up the house."
+
+"_Bueno, madre._"
+
+But no sooner is the Mother out of sight than naughty Mariquilla
+begins to frisk for joy, singing:--
+
+     "Mother has gone to wash.
+       Mother'll be gone all day.
+     Now can Mariquilla
+       Laugh and dance and play."
+
+But the Mother returns so suddenly that Mariquilla sees her barely in
+time to begin a vigorous sweeping.
+
+     "'What hast been doing, Mary?'
+       'Sweeping with broom of brier.'
+     'A friar saw thee playing.'
+       'He was a lying friar.'
+     'A holy friar tell a lie!'
+       'He lied and so do you.'
+     'Come hither, Mary of my heart,
+       'And I'll beat thee black and blue.'"
+
+After this lively exercise, the washerwoman goes away again, charging
+Mariquilla to churn the butter, then to knead the bread, then to set
+the table, but always with the same disastrous results. The Mother
+finally condemns her to a dinner of bread and bitters, but Mariquilla
+makes a point of understanding her to say bread and honey, and shares
+this sweetness with her sympathetic mates who form the circle. This
+time the beating is so severe that the children of the ring raise
+their arms and let Mariquilla dodge freely in and out, while they do
+all they can to trip and hinder the irate washerwoman in her pursuit.
+
+There is another washing game of more romantic sort, the chorus
+being:--
+
+     "'Bright is the fountain,
+       When skies are blue.
+     Who washed my handkerchief?
+       Tell me true!'
+     'Three mountain maidens
+       Of laughing look.
+     White went their feet
+       In the running brook.
+     One threw in roses,
+       And jasmine one.
+     One spread thy handkerchief
+       In the sun.'"
+
+Spanish children "play store," of course, but they are such dramatic
+little creatures that they need no broken ware for their merchandise.
+A row of them will squat down in the middle of the street, clasp their
+hands under the hollow of their knees, and crook out their arms for
+"handles." Then a customer wanders by, asking, "Who sells honey-jars?"
+The merchant disrespectfully replies, "That do I, Uncle of the Torn
+Trousers." The shabby customer answers with Castilian dignity, "If my
+trousers are torn, my wife will mend them." The merchant then opens
+negotiations. "Will you buy a little jar of honey?" "What's your
+price?" The merchant is not exorbitant. "A flea and a louse." The
+probabilities are, unhappily, that the customer has these commodities
+about him, and he inclines, though cautiously, toward the bargain.
+
+"Your little honey-jars are good?"
+
+"Very good."
+
+"Do they weigh much?"
+
+"Let's see."
+
+So they pick up an hilarious little honey-jar by its handles and tug
+it away between them, not letting it touch the ground, to the
+sidewalk. Here the merchant and customer have designated four spaces
+as Heaven, Limbo, Purgatory, and Hell, but on a preliminary
+paving-stone--let truth need no apology!--they have done some artistic
+spitting, with the result that four different figures in saliva are
+presented to the little honey-jar. These four figures bear a secret
+relation to the four spaces on the sidewalk, and the prisoner must
+make his choice. "This!" he ventures. "Hell!" scream the merchant and
+customer, and drag him, shrieking and struggling, to his doom. The
+next, perhaps, will have the luck to hit on Heaven, for every little
+honey-jar must take his chance in this theological lottery.
+
+Sometimes the market becomes a transformation scene. The children hold
+up their forefingers for candles, but embarrass the merchant by
+doubling these up whenever the customer is on the point of buying.
+Just as the bargain is about to be concluded, the little candles
+vanish and the children roll themselves into bunches of grapes, some
+proving sweet and others sour. Again, they make themselves over into
+pitchers, cushions, and all variety of domestic articles, becoming at
+last a pack of barking dogs which rush out on the customer, snap at
+his legs, and drive him off the premises.
+
+Again, it is a chicken-market on which the Uncle of the Torn Trousers
+chances, where one by one he buys all the hens and chickens, but
+forgets to buy the rooster, and when, by and by, this lordly fowl,
+waxing lonely, cock-a-doodle-doos, the hens and chickens come
+scurrying back to him, more to the profit of the merchant than to the
+satisfaction of the customer.
+
+In another of the chicken games, the Mother leaves Mariquilla in
+charge of the brood, with directions, if the wolf comes, to fling him
+the smallest. But he comes so often that, when the Mother returns,
+there are no chickens left. Then she and Little Mary go hunting them,
+hop-hop-hop through Flea Street, bow-wow-wow through Dog Street, and
+so on without success, until it occurs to them to scatter corn.
+Thereupon with peep-peep-peep and flip-flap-flutter all the chickens
+appear, but only to fly at the negligent Mother, who left them to the
+jaws of the wolf, and assail her with such furious pecks that she must
+run for her life, the indignant chicks racing in wild pursuit.
+
+There is a market-garden game, where one acts as gardener, others as
+vegetables, and others as customers. Others, still, come creeping up
+as thieves, but are opposed by a barking dog, which they kill. The
+gardener summons them before the judge. A trial is held, with much
+fluent Spanish argument pro and con, and the prisoners are condemned
+to execution for the murder of the dog. But at the last thrilling
+moment, when they have confessed their sins to the priests, and been
+torn from the embraces of their weeping friends, the dog trots
+cheerfully in, so very much alive that all the criminals are pardoned
+in a general dance of joy.
+
+The little girls have a favorite shopping game. In this the children
+are seated, shoulder to shoulder, in two rows that face each other.
+Every child takes the name of some cloth, silks and satins being
+preferred. The leader of the game runs around the two rows, singing:--
+
+     "Up the counter, down the counter!
+       How can I buy enough?
+     Down the counter, up the counter!
+       I choose this velvet stuff."
+
+Little Velvet immediately jumps to her feet and follows the leader,
+who continues choosing and calling, choosing and calling, until the
+stock is exhausted and she can go home with all her purchases most
+conveniently trooping at her heels.
+
+But the plays dearest to the black-eyed _ninas_ are love plays, of
+which they have a countless number. Most of these consist of the
+dancing, singing circle, with a child in the centre who chooses a
+mate. Some are as simple as this:--
+
+     "Milk and rice!
+       I want to marry
+     A maiden nice.
+       I may not tarry.
+     It is not this,
+       Nor this, nor this.
+     'Tis only this
+       Whom I want to marry."
+
+  [Illustration: CADIZ FROM THE SEA]
+
+_Ambo, ato_ is hardly more elaborate. When in the exchange of question
+and answer, the child would choose her page and touches one of the
+circle, the mercenary mites dance on faster than ever, until she
+offers whatever gift she has, a flower, apple, or any trifle at hand.
+Then the page runs in and kneels before her. The circle dances about
+the two, singing the refrain, until the first child slips out and
+joins them, leaving the second in the centre to begin the game over
+again.
+
+         "_Ambo, ato, matarile, rile, rile?
+         Ambo, ato, matarile, rile, ron?_
+
+     1.  "What do you want, matarile, rile, rile?
+         What do you want, matarile, rile, ron?
+
+     2.  "I want a page, matarile, rile, rile.
+         I want a page, matarile, rile, ron.
+
+     1.  "Choose whom you will, matarile, rile, rile.
+         Choose whom you will, matarile, rile, ron.
+
+     2.  "I choose Pedro, matarile, rile, rile.
+         I choose Pedro, matarile, rile, ron.
+
+     1.  "What will you give him, matarile, rile, rile?
+         What will you give him, matarile, rile, ron?
+
+     2.  "I'll give him an orange, matarile, rile, rile.
+         I'll give him an orange, matarile, rile, ron.
+
+     1.  "He answers yes, matarile, rile, rile.
+         He answers yes, matarile, rile, ron."
+
+"The Charcoal Woman" requires an odd number of players. The circle
+dances about a little girl who stands all forlorn in the centre. The
+chorus sings the first stanza, the child sings the second, which has
+reference to the fact that Spanish charcoal is often made from laurel
+wood, and the chorus, in a comforting tone, the third. Then, while the
+child runs about and about the circle as if seeking, the chorus
+angrily sings the fourth stanza, accusing her of ambition, and the
+little charcoal woman retorts with the fifth, making her choice as she
+sings the last four words. At this the circle breaks, the children
+quickly choosing mates and dancing by pairs. The one who is left
+without a partner takes her place in the centre as the next Charcoal
+Woman.
+
+                             1.
+
+     _Chorus._ "Who would say that the charcoal woman,
+               Sooty, sooty charcoal woman,
+               In all the city and all the land
+               Could find a lover to kiss her hand?
+
+                             2.
+
+     _Charcoal Woman._
+               "The little widow of good Count Laurel
+               Has no one left her for kiss or quarrel.
+               I want a sweetheart and find me none.
+               Charcoal women must bide alone.
+
+                             3.
+
+     _Chorus._ "Poor little widow, so sweet thou art,
+               If there's no other to claim thy heart,
+               Take thy pick of us who stand
+               Ready to kiss thy sooty hand.
+
+                             4.
+
+     _Chorus._ "The charcoal woman, the charcoal woman,
+               Proud little black little charcoal woman,
+               Goes seeking up and seeking down
+               To find the Count of Cabratown.
+
+                             5.
+
+     _Charcoal Woman._
+               "I would not marry the Count of Cabra.
+               Never will marry the Count of Cabra.
+               Count of Cabra! Oh, deary me!
+               I'll not have him,--_if you're not he!_"
+
+Just such coquettish touches of Spanish spirit and maiden pride appear
+in many of the songs, as, for instance, in one of their counting-out
+carols, "The Garden."
+
+     "The garden of our house it is
+       The funniest garden yet,
+     For when it rains and rains and rains,
+       The garden it is wet.
+           And now we bow,
+     Skip back and then advance,
+     For who know how to make a bow
+           Know how to dance.
+           AB--C--AB--C
+           DE--FG--HI--J.
+     If your worship does not love me,
+       Then a better body may.
+           AB--C--AB--C,
+           KL--MN--OP--Q.
+     If you think you do not love me,
+       I am sure I don't love you."
+
+Sometimes these dancing midgets lisp a song of worldly wisdom:--
+
+     "If any cadet
+       With thee would go,
+     Daughter, instantly
+       Answer no.
+     For how can cadet,
+       This side of Heaven,
+     Keep a wife
+       On his dollars seven?
+
+     "If any lieutenant
+       Asks a caress,
+     Daughter, instantly
+       Answer yes.
+     For the lieutenant
+       Who kisses thy hand
+     May come to be
+       A general grand."
+
+And, again, these babies may be heard giving warning that men betray.
+
+     "The daughters of Ceferino
+       Went to walk--alas!
+     A street above, a street below,
+       Street of San Tomas.
+     The least of all, they lost her.
+       Her father searched--alas!
+     A street above, a street below,
+       Street of San Tomas.
+     And there he found her talking
+       With a cavalier, who said,
+     'Come home with me, my darling,
+       'Tis you that I would wed.'
+
+     "Oh, have you seen the pear tree
+       Upon my grandpa's lawn?
+     Its pears are sweet as honey,
+       But when the pears are gone,
+     A turtle-dove sits moaning,
+       With blood upon her wings,
+     Amid the highest branches,
+       And this is what she sings:
+     'Ill fares the foolish maiden
+       Who trusts a stranger's fibs.
+     She'd better take a cudgel
+       And break his ugly ribs.'"
+
+The dance for "Elisa of Mambru" begins merrily, and soon saddens to a
+funereal pace.
+
+     "In Madrid was born a maiden--carabi!
+     Daughter of a general--carabi, huri, hura!"
+
+The song goes on to tell of Elisa's beautiful hair, which her aunt
+dressed so gently for her with a golden comb and crystal curling-pins,
+and how Elisa died and was carried to church in an elegant coffin, and
+how a little bird used to perch upon her grave and chirp, _pio_,
+_pio_.
+
+Mambru himself is the pathetic hero of Spanish childhood. This Mambru
+for whom the little ones from Aragon to Andalusia pipe so many simple
+elegies, the Mambru sung by Trilby, is not the English Marlborough to
+them, but, be he lord or peasant, one of their very own.
+
+     "Mambru is gone to serve the king,
+     And comes no more by fall or spring.
+
+     "We've looked until our eyes are dim.
+     Will no one give us word of him?
+
+     "You'd know him for his mother's son
+     By peasant dress of Aragon.
+
+     "You'd know him for my husband dear
+     By broidered kerchief on his spear.
+
+     "The one I broider now is wet.
+     Oh, may I see him wear it yet!"
+
+At the end of this song, as of the following, the little dancers throw
+themselves on the ground, as if in despair.
+
+     "Mambru went forth to battle.
+         Long live Love!
+     I listen still for his coming feet.
+     The rose on the rose bush blossoms sweet.
+
+     "He will come back by Easter.
+         Long live Love!
+     He will come back by Christmas-tide.
+     The rose on the bush has drooped and died.
+
+     "Down the road a page is riding.
+         Long live Love!
+     'Oh, what are the tidings that you bear?'
+     The rose on the bush is budding fair.
+
+     "'Woe is me for my tidings!'
+         Long live Love!
+     'Mambru lies cold this many a morn.'
+     Ay, for a rose bush sharp with thorn!
+
+     "A little bird is chirping.
+         Long live Love!
+     In the withered bush where no more buds blow,
+     The bird is chirping a note of woe."
+
+A game that I often watched blithe young Granadines playing under the
+gray shadow of Alhambra walls, seems to be a Spanish version of
+"London Bridge is Falling Down." Two children are chosen to be Rose
+and Pink. These form an arch with their uplifted arms, through which
+run the other children in a line, headed by the Mother. A musical
+dialogue is maintained throughout.
+
+     "_Rose and Pink._
+        To the viper of love, that hides in flowers,
+          The only way lies here.
+
+     _Mother._
+        Then here I pass and leave behind
+          One little daughter dear.
+
+     _Rose and Pink._
+        Shall the first one or the last
+          Be captive of our chain?
+
+     _Mother._
+        Oh, the first one runs too lightly.
+          'Tis the last that shall remain.
+
+     _Chorus._
+        Pass on, oho! Pass on, aha!
+        By the gate of Alcala!"
+
+The last child is caught by the falling arms and is asked whether she
+will go with Rose or Pink. She shyly whispers her choice, taking her
+stand behind her elected leader, whom she clasps about the waist. When
+all the children of the line have been successively caught in the
+falling arch, and have taken their places behind either Rose or Pink,
+the game ends in a grand tugging match. Rose and Pink hold hands as
+long as they can, while the two lines try to drag them apart. All the
+while, until the very last, the music ripples on:--
+
+     "_Rose and Pink._
+        Let the young mind make its choice,
+          As young minds chance to think.
+        Now is the Rose your leader,
+          Or go you with the Pink?
+        Let the young heart make its choice
+          By laws the young heart knows.
+        Now is the Pink your leader,
+          Or go you with the Rose?
+
+     _Chorus._
+        Pass on, oho! Pass on, aha!
+        By the gate of Alcala!"
+
+Another favorite is "Golden Ear-rings." Here the Mother, this time a
+Queen, sits in a chair, supposedly a throne, and close before her, on
+the floor, sits the youngest daughter; before this one, the next
+youngest, and so on, in order of age. Two other children, holding a
+handkerchief by the corners, walk up and down the line, one on one
+side and one on the other, so passing the handkerchief above the heads
+of the seated princesses. Then ensues the musical dialogue between
+these two suitors and the Queen.
+
+     "'We've come from France, my lady,
+       And Portugal afar.
+     We've heard of your fair daughters,
+       And very fair they are.'
+
+     'Be they fair or no, senores,
+       It's none of your concern,
+     For God has given me bread for all,
+       And given me hands to earn.'
+
+     'Then we depart, proud lady,
+       To find us brides elsewhere.
+     The daughters of the Moorish king
+       Our wedding rings shall wear.'
+
+     'Come back, my sweet senores!
+       Bear not so high a crest.
+     You may take my eldest daughter,
+       But leave me all the rest.'"
+
+The dialogue is transferred to one of the suitors and to the princess
+at the farther end of the line, on whose head the handkerchief now
+rests.
+
+     "'Will you come with me, my Onion?'
+       'Fie! that's a kitchen smell.'
+     'Will you come with me, my Rosebud?'
+       'Ay, gardens please me well.'"
+
+In similar fashion all the daughters are coaxed away until only the
+youngest remains, but she proves obdurate. They may call her Parsley
+or Pink; it makes no difference. So the suitors resort to bribes, the
+last proving irresistible.
+
+     "'We'll buy you a French missal.'
+       'I have a book in Latin.'
+     'In taffeta we'll dress you.'
+       'My clothes are all of satin.'
+     'You shall ride upon a donkey.'
+       'I ride in coaches here.'
+     'We'll give you golden ear-rings.'
+       'Farewell, my mother dear.'"
+
+In some of the many variants of this game, the Queen herself, adequate
+as she may be to earning her own living, is wooed and won at last.
+
+I have not met with fairy-lore among these children's carols. The only
+fairy known to Spain appears to be a sort of spiritualistic brownie,
+who tips over tables and rattles chairs in empty rooms by night. The
+grown-up men who write of him say he frightens women and children. He
+can haunt a house as effectually as an old-time ghost, and a _Casa del
+Duende_ may go begging for other tenants. One poor lady, who went to
+all the trouble of moving to escape from him, was leaning over the
+balcony of her new home,--so the story goes,--to see the last cartful
+of furniture drive up, when a tiny man in scarlet waved a feathered
+cap to her from the very top of the load and called, "Yes, senora, we
+are all here. We have moved."
+
+So the childish imagination of Spain, shut out from fairyland, makes
+friends with the saints in such innocent, familiar way as well might
+please even Ribera's anchorites. The adventurous small boy about to
+take a high jump pauses to pray:--
+
+     "Saint Magdalene,
+     Don't let me break my thigh!
+     Oh, Saint Thomas,
+     Help this birdie fly!"
+
+The little girls express decided preferences for one saint over
+another.
+
+           "Old San Anton,
+           What has he done?
+     Put us in the corner every one.
+
+           "San Sebastian
+           Is a nice young man.
+     He takes us to walk and gives us a fan."
+
+Santa Rita is best at finding lost needles, and San Pantaleon is a
+humorist.
+
+           "San Pantaleon,
+           Are twenty and one
+     Children enough for an hour of fun
+           Slippers of iron
+           Donkey must try on.
+           Moors with their pages
+           Ride in gold stages.
+           But if you want a
+           Girdle, Infanta,
+           Cucurucu,
+           'Bout-face with you!"
+
+At this one of the children dancing in circle whirls around, remaining
+in her place, but with back turned to the centre and arms crossed over
+her breast, although her hands still hold those of her nearest
+neighbors. The rhyme is sung over and over, until all the little
+figures have thus turned about and the circle is dancing under
+laughable difficulties.
+
+But the dearest saint of all is San Sereni. Two of the best-known
+games are under his peculiar blessing. One of these is of the genuine
+Kindergarten type, the children dancing in a circle through the first
+two lines of each stanza, but then loosing hands to imitate, in time
+to the music, the suggested action.
+
+       "San Sereni,
+     The holy--holy-hearted!
+       Thus for thee
+     The shoemakers are cobbling.
+       Thus, thus, thus!
+       Thus it pleases us."
+
+Even so it pleases seamstresses to stitch, laundresses to wash,
+carpenters to saw, silversmiths to tap, ironsmiths to pound, and
+little folks to dance, all for "San Sereni de la buena, buena vida."
+In the second game, a gymnastic exercise, whose four movements are
+indicated in the four stanzas, he is apostrophized as "San Sereni del
+Monte, San Sereni cortes."
+
+     "San Sereni of the Mountain,
+       Our saint of courtesy,
+     I, as a good Christian,
+       Will fall upon my knee.
+
+     "San Sereni of the Mountain,
+       Where the strong winds pass,
+     I, as a good Christian,
+       Will seat me on the grass.
+
+     "San Sereni of the Mountain,
+       Where the white clouds fly,
+     I, as a good Christian,
+       Upon the ground will lie.
+
+     "San Sereni of the Mountain,
+       Where earth and heaven meet,
+     I, as a good Christian,
+       Will spring upon my feet."
+
+With the legend of St. Katharine and her martyrdom childish fancy has
+played queer caprices.
+
+     "In Cadiz was a wean--ah!
+     The gentlest ever seen--ah!
+     Her name was Catalina.
+           Ay, so!
+     Her name was Catalina.
+
+     "Her father, Moslem cruel,
+     He made her bring in fuel.
+     Her mother fed her gruel.
+           Ay, so!
+     Her mother fed her gruel.
+
+     "They beat her Tuesday, Wednesday,
+     They beat her Thursday, Friday,
+     They beat her Saturday, Monday.
+           Ay, so!
+     They beat her hardest Sunday.
+
+     "Once bade her wicked sire
+     She make a wheel most dire,
+     Of scissors, knives, and fire.
+           Ay, so!
+     Of scissors, knives, and fire.
+
+     "The noble Christian neighbors,
+     In pity of her labors,
+     Brought silver swords and sabres.
+           Ay, so!
+     Brought silver swords and sabres.
+
+     "By noon her task was ended,
+     And on that wheel all splendid
+     Her little knee she bended.
+           Ay, so!
+     Her little knee she bended.
+
+     "Then down a stair of amber
+     She saw the cherubs clamber:
+     'Come rest in our blue chamber.'
+           Ay, so!
+     She rests in their blue chamber."
+
+Little Spaniards are not too intolerant to make a play-fellow of the
+Devil. In one of their pet games, the children form in line, with the
+invaluable Mother in charge. To each child she secretly gives the name
+of a color. Then an Angel comes in with a flying motion and calls, for
+instance, "Purple!" But there is no Purple in the company. It is then
+the Devil's turn, who rushes in, usually armed with a table-fork, and
+roars for "Green." There is a Green in the line, and she has to follow
+the Demon, while the Angel tries again. All right-minded spectators
+hope that the Angel will have the longer array at the last.
+
+The Virgin's well-beloved name comes often into the children's songs.
+
+     "For studying my lessons,
+       So as not to be a dunce,
+     Papa gave me eight dollars,
+       That I mean to spend at once.
+     Four for my dolly's necklace,
+       Two for a collar fine,
+     And one to buy a candle
+       For Our Lady's shrine."
+
+Even the supreme solemnity of the Wafer borne through the kneeling
+streets cannot abash the trustful gaze of childhood.
+
+     "'Where are you going, dear Jesus,
+       So gallant and so gay?'
+     'I am going to a dying man
+       To wash his sins away.
+     And if I find him sorry
+       For the evil he has done,
+     Though his sins are more than the sands of the sea,
+       I'll pardon every one.'
+
+     "'Where are you going, dear Jesus,
+       So gallant and so gay?'
+     'I'm coming back from a dying man
+       Whose sins are washed away.
+     Because I found him sorry
+       For the evil he had done,
+     Though his sins were more than the sands of the sea,
+       I've pardoned every one.'"
+
+The affairs of State as well as of Church have left their traces on
+the children's play. As the little ones dance in circle, their piping
+music tells a confused tale of Spanish history within these latter
+days.
+
+     "In Madrid there is a palace,
+       As bright as polished shell,
+     And in it lives a lady
+       They call Queen Isabel.
+     Not for count nor duke nor marquis
+       Her father would she sell,
+     For not all the gold in Spain could buy
+       The crown of Isabel.
+
+     "One day when she was feasting
+       Within this palace grand,
+     A lad of Aragon walked in
+       And seized her by the hand.
+     Through street and square he dragged her
+       To a dreary prison cell,
+     And all that weary way she wept,
+       The lady Isabel.
+
+     "'For whom art weeping, lady?
+       What gives thy spirit pain?
+     If thou weepest for thy brothers,
+       They will not come again.
+     If thou weepest for thy father,
+       He lies 'neath sheet of stone.'
+     'For these I am not weeping,
+       But for sorrows of mine own.
+
+     "'I want a golden dagger.'
+       'A golden dagger! Why?'
+     'To cut this juicy pear in two.
+       Of thirst I almost die.'
+     We gave the golden dagger.
+       She did not use it well.
+     Ah, no, it was not pears you cut,
+       My lady Isabel."
+
+These dancing circles keep in memory the assassination of Marshal
+Prim.
+
+     "As he came from the Cortes,
+       Men whispered to Prim,
+     'Be wary, be wary,
+       For life and for limb.'
+     Then answered the General,
+       'Come blessing, come bane,
+     I live or I die
+       In the service of Spain.'
+
+     "In the _Calle del Turco_,
+       Where the starlight was dim,
+     Nine cowardly bullets
+       Gave greeting to Prim.
+     The best of the Spaniards
+       Lay smitten and slain,
+     And the new King he died for
+       Came weeping to Spain."
+
+This new king, Amadeo, is funnily commemorated in another dancing
+ditty, "Four Sweethearts."
+
+         "Maiden, if they ask thee,
+         Maiden, if they ask thee,
+     If thou hast a sweetheart--_ha_, _ha_!
+         If thou hast a sweetheart,
+         Answer without blushing,
+         Answer without blushing,
+     'Four sweethearts are mine--_ha_, _ha_!
+         Four sweethearts are mine.
+
+         "'The first he is the son of--
+         The first he is the son of
+     A confectioner--_ha_, _ha_!
+         A confectioner.
+         Sugar-plums he gives me,
+         Sugar-plums he gives me,
+     Caramels and creams--_ha_, _ha_!
+         Caramels and creams.
+
+         "'The second is the son of--
+         The second is the son of
+     An apothecary--_ha_, _ha_!
+         An apothecary.
+         Syrups sweet he gives me,
+         Syrups sweet he gives me,
+     For my little cough--_hack_, _hack_!
+       For my little cough.
+
+         "'The third he is the son of--
+         The third he is the son of
+     The barber to the court--_ha_, _ha_!
+         The barber to the court.
+         Powders rare he gives me,
+         Powders rare he gives me,
+     And a yellow wig--_ha_, _ha_!
+         And a yellow wig.
+
+         "'The fourth? Oh, 'tis a secret,
+         The fourth? Oh, 'tis a secret.
+     Our new Italian king--_ha_, _ha_!
+         Our new Italian king.
+         He gives me silk and satin,
+         He gives me silk and satin,
+     Velvet, gold, and gems--_ha_, _ha_!
+         Velvet, gold, and gems.'"
+
+Strangest of all is the dramatic little dialogue, which one with an
+ear for children's voices may hear any day in Madrid, telling of the
+death of Queen Mercedes.
+
+     "'Whither away, young King Alfonso?
+       (Oh, for pity!) Whither away?'
+     'I go seeking my queen Mercedes,
+       For I have not seen her since yesterday.'
+
+     "'But we have seen your queen Mercedes,
+       Seen the queen, though her eyes were hid,
+     While four dukes all gently bore her
+       Through the streets of sad Madrid.
+
+     "'Oh, how her face was calm as heaven!
+       Oh, how her hands were ivory white!
+     Oh, how she wore the satin slippers
+       That you kissed on the bridal night!
+
+     "'Dark are the lamps of the lonely palace.
+       Black are the suits the nobles don.
+     In letters of gold on the wall 'tis written:
+       _Her Majesty is dead and gone_.'
+
+     "He fainted to hear us, young Alfonso,
+       Drooped like an eagle with broken wing,
+     But the cannon thundered: 'Valor, valor!'
+       And the people shouted: 'Long live the king!'"
+
+Spanish wiseheads say that the children's choral games are already
+perishing, that the blight of schools and books is passing upon the
+child-life of the Peninsula, and soon there will be no more time for
+play. The complaint of the _ninas_ is much to the same effect, yet
+they wear their rue with a difference:--
+
+     "Not even in the _Prado_
+       Can little maidens play,
+     Because those staring, teasing boys
+       Are always in the way.
+
+     "They might be romping with us,
+       For they're only children yet,
+     But they won't play at anything
+       Except a cigarette.
+
+     "Now let me tell you truly:
+       If things go on like this,
+     And midgets care for nothing
+       But to walk and talk and kiss,
+
+     "No plays will cheer the _Prado_
+       In future times, for then
+     The little boys of seven
+       Will all be married men."
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+"O LA SENORITA!"
+
+     "Since the English education came into fashion, there is not a
+     maiden left who can feel true love."--ALARCON.
+
+
+During my stifling night journey from Madrid to the north I had much
+chat with Castilian and German ladies in the carriage about Spanish
+girls. Our talk turned especially on their reading, so reminding me of
+an incident of the past spring. On an Andalusian balcony I once found
+a little girl curled up in the coolest corner and poring over a
+shabby, paper-bound book. On my expressing interest in the volume, she
+presented it at once, according to the code of Spanish manners. "The
+book is at the disposal of your worship." But as the bundle of
+tattered leaves was not only so precious to her own small worship, but
+also greatly in demand among her worshipful young mates, whose
+constant borrowing seemed a strain even on Andalusian courtesy, I
+retained it merely long enough to note the title and general
+character. The next time I entered a book-shop I expended ten cents
+for this specimen of juvenile literature--"the best-selling book in
+Seville," if the clerk's word may be taken--and have it before me as I
+write. On the cover is stamped a picture of two graceful senoritas,
+perusing, apparently, this very work, "The Book of the Enamored and
+the Secretary of Lovers," and throughout the two hundred pages are
+scattered cheap cuts, never indecent, but suggesting violent ardors of
+passion--embracings, kissings, gazings, pleadings, with hearts,
+arrows, torches, and other ancient and honorable heraldry of Cupid.
+The title-page announces that this is a fifth edition of ten thousand
+copies.
+
+  [Illustration: THE DIVINE SHEPHERD]
+
+The opening section is on "Love and Beauty," enumerating, by the way,
+the "thirty points" essential to a perfect woman. "Three things
+white--skin, teeth, and hands. Three black--eyes, eyebrows, and
+eyelashes. Three rosy--lips, cheeks, and nails." But warning is duly
+given that even the thirty points of beauty do not make up a sum total
+of perfection without the mystic, all-harmonizing quality of charm.
+
+Next in order are the several sets of directions for winning the
+affections of maid, wife, and widow, with a collection of edifying
+sentiments from various saints and wits concerning widows.
+Descriptions of wedding festivities follow, with a glowing
+dissertation on kisses, "the banquet-cups of love." After this stands
+a Castilian translation of an impassioned Arab love-song with the
+burden, _Todo es amor_. Maxims on love, culled chiefly from French
+authorities, are succeeded by an eighteenth-century love-catechism:--
+
+   "_Question._ Art thou a lover?
+
+   _Answer._ Yes, by the grace of Cupid.
+
+   _Question._ What is a lover?
+
+   _Answer._ A lover is one who, having made true and faithful
+   declaration of his passion, seeks the means of gaining the love
+   of her whom he adores."
+
+This is the first lesson. The second treats of the five signs of love,
+the third of love's duties, the fourth gives the orison of lovers--a
+startling adaptation of the Lord's Prayer--and their creed: "I believe
+in Cupid, absolute Lord of Love, who gives to lovers all their joys,
+and in her whom I love most, for most lovable is she, on whom I think
+without ceasing, and for whom I would sacrifice gladly my honor and my
+life."
+
+There is nothing here, it will be noticed, of the Englishman's proud
+exception:--
+
+     "I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
+         Loved I not honor more."
+
+Love has its own beatitudes, too. "Blessed are they who love
+sincerely. Blessed are they of merry mood. Blessed are lovers who have
+patience. Blessed are the rich, for love delights to spend."
+
+A "Divination of Dreams," "copied from an ancient manuscript found in
+the ruins of the convent of San Prudencio, in Clavijo," that famous
+battle-ground where St. James first trampled the Moors, next engages
+attention. To dream of a fan is sign of a coming flirtation; of a
+banner, success in war; of a woman's singing, sorrow and loss; of
+stars, fair fortune in love; of fire, good luck at cards; of a black
+cat, trouble from the mother-in-law; of closed eyes, your child in
+mortal peril; of birds, joy and sweet content; of a ghost, ill health;
+of scissors, a lover's quarrel; of wine, a cheating Frenchman; of
+shoes, long journeys; of angels, good tidings from far away. Some of
+these omens are a surprise to the uninitiated reader. It is bad luck
+to behold in a dream images of Christ and the Virgin. A church, seen
+from within, denotes alms; from without, death. To dream of the altar
+arrayed for high mass betokens grave misfortune. Other omens are
+significant of Spanish discontents. To dream of a Jesuit brings
+miseries and betrayals; of a military officer, tyranny and brutality;
+of a king, danger; of a republic, "abundance, happiness, honors, and
+work well recompensed." Often these divinations run into rhyme, as:--
+
+     "Dream of God at midnight dim,
+     And by day you'll follow Him."
+
+The next section of this Complete Guide is given over to snatches of
+love-song, which Andalusian children know by heart. These five are
+fairly representative:--
+
+     "Mine is a lover well worth the loving.
+       Under my balcony he cries:
+     'You have maddened me with your grace of moving,
+       And the beaming of your soft black eyes.'"
+
+     "Though thou go to the highest heaven,
+       And God's hand draw thee near,
+     The saints will not love thee half so well
+       As I have loved thee here."
+
+     "If I had a blossom rare,
+     I would twine it in thy hair,
+     Though God should stoop and ask for it
+     To make His heaven more exquisite."
+
+     "Such love for thee, sent forth from me,
+       Bears on such iron gate
+     That I, used so, no longer know
+       Whether I love or hate."
+
+     "The learned are not wise,
+       The saints are not in bliss;
+     They have not looked into your eyes,
+       Nor felt your burning kiss."
+
+Then comes a "New Dictionary of Love," defining some two hundred
+doubtful terms in Cupid's lexicon, as _forever_, _no_, _unselfish_.
+After this we are treated to the language of fan flirtation, of
+handkerchief flirtation, of flower flirtation, and "the clock of
+Flora," by which lovers easily make appointments,--one, two, three,
+being numbered in rose, pink, tulip, and so on. A cut of a youth
+toiling at a manuscript-laden desk introduces some fifty pages of
+model love-letters, which seem, to the casual eye, to cover all
+contingencies. A selection of verses used for adding a grace to
+birthday and saint-day gifts comes after, and this all-sufficient
+compendium concludes with a "Lovers' Horoscope."
+
+A single illustration of the sort of reading that Spanish girls find
+in their way should not, of course, be pressed too far, and yet any
+one who had seen the pretty group of heads clustered for hours over
+these very pages on that shaded balcony would not deny the book
+significance. A taste for the best reading is not cultivated in
+Spanish girls, even where the treasures of that great Castilian
+literature are accessible to them. Convent education knows nothing of
+Calderon. As for books especially adapted to girlhood, we have just
+examined a sample.
+
+Love and religion are the only subjects with which a senorita is
+expected to concern herself, and the life of the convent is often a
+second choice. Even when a Spanish girl wins her crown of wifehood
+and motherhood, her ignorance and poverty of thought tell heavily
+against the most essential interests of family life. The Spanish bride
+is often a child in years. Pacheco's direction for painting the
+Immaculate Conception ran, "Our Lady is to be pictured in the flower
+of her age, from twelve to thirteen." This was three centuries ago,
+but Spain changes slowly. The girl of to-day, nevertheless, marries
+later than her mother married. I remember one weary woman of forty
+with eighteen children in their graves and the three who were living
+physical and mental weaklings. She told us of a friend who married at
+fourteen and used to leave her household affairs in confusion while
+she stole away to a corner to play with her dolls. Her husband, a
+grave lawyer in middle life, would come home to dinner and find his
+helpmeet romping with the other children in the _plaza_.
+
+The Spanish girl is every whit as fascinating as her musical, cloaked
+gallant confides to her iron-grated lattice. Indeed, these amorous
+serenades hardly do her justice, blending as she does French animation
+with Italian fervor. In Andalusia she dances with a grace that makes
+every other use of life seem vain. And when she bargains, there is
+nothing sordid about it. Her haggling is a social condescension that
+at once puts the black-eyed young salesman at her mercy.
+
+"But the fan seems to me the least bit dear, senor."
+
+He shrugs his shoulders and flings out his arm in protest.
+
+"Ah, senorita! You see not how beautiful the work is. I am giving it
+away at six _pesetas_."
+
+She lifts her eyebrows half incredulously, all bewitchingly.
+
+"At five _pesetas_, senor."
+
+He runs his hand through his black hair in chivalrous distress.
+
+"But the peerless work, senorita! And this other, too! I sacrifice it
+at four _pesetas_."
+
+She touches both fans lightly.
+
+"You will let us have the two at seven _pesetas_, senor?"
+
+Her eyes dance over his confusion. He catches the gleam, laughs back,
+throws up his hands.
+
+"_Bueno_, senorita. At what you please."
+
+It takes a Spaniard to depict a throng of Spanish ladies,--"fiery
+carnations or starry jasmine in their hair, cheeks like blush roses,
+eyes black or blue, with lashes quivering like butterflies; cherry
+lips, a glance as fickle as the light nod of a flower in the wind, and
+smiles that reveal teeth like pearls; the all-pervading fan with its
+wordless telegraphy in a thousand colors." In such a throng one sees
+not only the typical "eyes of midnight," but those "emerald eyes"
+which Cervantes knew, and veritable pansy-colored eyes dancing with
+more than pansy mischief. But the voices! In curious contrast to the
+tones of Spanish men, soft, coaxing, caressing, the voices of the
+women are too often high and harsh, suggesting, in moments of
+excitement, the scream of the Andalusian parrot. "O Jesus, what a
+fetching hat! The feather, the feather, see, see, see, _see_ the
+feather! Mary Most Pure, but it must have cost four or five _pesetas_!
+Ah, my God, don't I wish it were mine!" The speaker who gets the lead
+in a chattering knot of Spanish women is a prodigy not only of
+volubility, but of general muscular action. She keeps time to her
+shrill music with hands, fan, elbows, shoulders, eyebrows, knees. She
+dashes her sentences with inarticulate whirs and whistles, and
+countless pious interjections: _Gracias a Dios! Santa Maria! O Dios
+mio!_ The others, out-screamed and out-gesticulated, clutch at her,
+shriek at her, fly at her, and still, by some mysterious genius,
+maintain courtesy, grace, and dignity through it all. Yet it is true
+that the vulgar-rich variety is especially obnoxious among Spaniards.
+An overdressed Spanish woman is frightfully overdressed, her voice is
+maddening, her gusts of mirth and anger are painfully uncontrolled.
+This, however, is the exception, and refinement the rule.
+
+The legendary Spanish lady is forever sitting at a barred window, or
+leaning from a balcony, coquetting with a fan and dropping arch
+responses to the "caramel phrases" of her guitar-tinkling cavalier.
+
+     "You're always saying you'd die for me.
+       I doubt it nevertheless;
+     But prove it true by dying,
+       And then I'll answer yes."
+
+For, loving as they are, Spanish sweethearts take naturally to
+teasing. "When he calls me his Butterfly, I call him my Elephant. Then
+his eyes are like black fire, for he is ashamed to be so big, but in a
+twinkling I can make him smile again." The scorn of these dainty
+creatures for the graces of the ruling sex is not altogether affected.
+I shall not forget the expression with which a Sevillian belle, an
+exquisite dancer, watched her _novio_ as, red and perspiring, he flung
+his stout legs valiantly through the mazes of the _jota_. "Men are
+uglier than ever when they are dancing, aren't they?" she remarked to
+me with all the serenity in the world. And a bewitching maiden in
+Madrid, as I passed some favorable comment upon the photographs of her
+two brothers, gave a deprecatory shrug. "Handsome? _Ca!_" (Which is
+_no_ many times intensified.) "But they are not so ugly, either,--_for
+men_."
+
+The style of compliment addressed by _caballeros_ to senoritas is not
+like "the quality of mercy," but very much strained indeed. "Your eyes
+are two runaway stars, that would rather shine in your face than in
+heaven, but your heart is harder than the columns of Solomon's temple.
+Your father was a confectioner and rubbed your lips with honey-cakes."
+Little Consuelo, or Lagrimas, or Milagros, or Dolores, or Peligros
+laughs it off, "Ah, now you are throwing flowers."
+
+The _coplas_ of the wooer below the balcony are usually sentimental.
+
+     "By night I go to the patio,
+       And my tears in the fountain fall,
+     To think that I love you so much,
+       And you love me not at all."
+
+     "Sweetheart, little Sweetheart!
+       Love, my Love!
+     I can't see thy eyes
+       For the lashes above.
+     Eyes black as midnight,
+       Lashes black as grief!
+     O, my heart is thirsty
+       As a summer leaf."
+
+     "If I could but be buried
+       In the dimple of your chin,
+     I would wish, Dear, that dying
+       Might at once begin."
+
+     "If thou wilt be a white dove,
+       I will be a blue.
+     We'll put our bills together
+       And coo, coo, coo."
+
+Sometimes the sentiment is relieved by a realistic touch.
+
+     "Very anxious is the flea,
+       Caught between finger and thumb.
+     More anxious I, on watch for thee,
+       Lest thou shouldst not come."
+
+And occasionally the lover, flouted overmuch, retorts in kind.
+
+     "Don't blame me that eyes are wet,
+       For I only pay my debt.
+     I've taught you to cry and fret,
+       But first you taught me to forget."
+
+     "I'll not have you, Little Torment,
+       I don't want you, Little Witch.
+     Let your mother light four candles
+       And stand you in a niche."
+
+The average Spaniard is well satisfied with his senora as she is. He
+did her extravagant homage as a suitor, he treats her with kindly
+indulgence as a husband, but he expects of her a life utterly bounded
+by the _casa_. "What is a woman?" we heard one say. "A bottle of
+wine." And those few words tell the story why, with all their charm,
+home-love, and piety, the Spanish women have not availed to keep the
+social life of the Peninsula sound and sweet.
+
+     "But to admire them as our gallants do,
+     'Oh, what an eye she hath! Oh, dainty hand!
+     Rare foot and leg!' and leave the mind respectless,
+     This is a plague that in both men and women
+     Makes such pollution of our earthly being."
+
+The life of the convent is attractive to girls of mystic temperament,
+like the _Maria_ of Valdes, but many of these lively daughters of the
+sun regard it with frank disfavor. One of the songs found in the
+mouths of little girls all over the Peninsula is amusingly expressive
+of the childish aversion to so dull a destiny.
+
+     "I wanted to be married
+       To a sprightly barber-lad,
+     But my parents wished to put me
+       In the convent dim and sad.
+
+     "One afternoon of summer
+       They walked me out in state,
+     And as we turned a corner,
+       I saw the convent gate.
+
+     "Out poured all the solemn nuns
+       In black from toe to chin,
+     Each with a lighted candle,
+       And made me enter in.
+
+     "The file was like a funeral;
+       The door shut out the day;
+     They sat me on a marble stool
+       And cut my hair away.
+
+     "The pendants from my ears they took,
+       And the ring I loved to wear,
+     But the hardest loss of all to brook
+       Was my mat of raven hair.
+
+     "If I run out to the garden
+       And pluck the roses red,
+     I have to kneel in church until
+       Twice twenty prayers are said.
+
+     "If I steal up to the tower
+       And clang the convent bell,
+     The holy Abbess utters words
+       I do not choose to tell.
+
+     "My parents, O my parents,
+       Unkindly have you done,
+     For I was never meant to be
+       A dismal little nun."
+
+I came but slightly in contact with Spanish nuns. Among the figures
+that stand out clear in memory are a kindly old sister, at Seville, in
+the _Hospital de la Caridad_, who paused midway in her exhibition of
+the famous Murillos there to wipe her eyes and grieve that we were
+Protestants, and an austere, beautiful woman in _La Cuna_, or
+Foundling Asylum of Seville, who caressed a crying baby with the
+passionate tenderness of motherhood denied. The merriest Spanish
+_hermana_ of our acquaintance we encountered on the French side of the
+Pyrenees. At Anglet, halfway between Biarritz and Bayonne, is the
+Convent of the Bernardines, Silent Sisters. The visitor sees them only
+from a distance, robed in white flannel, with large white crosses
+gleaming on the back of their hooded capes. These, too, were
+originally white, and the hoods so deep that not even the profile of
+the features could be seen; but the French Government, disturbed by
+the excessive death-rate in this order, recently had the audacity to
+interfere and give summary orders that the hoods be cut away, so that
+the healthful sunshine might visit those pale faces. The mandate was
+obeyed, but, perhaps in sign of mournful protest, the new hoods and
+capes are black as night. These women Trappists may recite their
+prayers aloud, as they work in field or garden, or over their
+embroidery frames, but they speak for human hearing only once a year,
+when their closest family friends may visit them and listen through a
+grating to what their disused voices may yet be able to utter. From
+all other contact with the world they are shielded by an outpost guard
+of a few of the Servants of Mary, an industrious, self-supporting
+sisterhood, whose own convent, half a mile away, is a refuge for
+unwedded mothers and a home for unfathered children. Hither the
+pitying sisters brought, a few days before our visit, a wild-eyed girl
+whom they had found lying on one of the sea rocks, waiting for the
+rising tide to cover her and her shame together. The chief treasure of
+this nunnery, one regrets to add, is the polished skull of Mary
+Magdalene.
+
+That one of the Servants of Mary who showed us over the Trappist
+convent was a bright-eyed Spanish dame of many winters, as natural a
+chatterbox as ever gossiped with the neighbors in the sun. Her glee in
+this little opportunity for conversation was enough to wring the heart
+of any lover of old ladies. She walked as slowly as possible and
+detained us on every conceivable pretext, reaching up on her rheumatic
+tiptoes to pluck us red and white camellias, and pointing out, with a
+lingering garrulity, the hardness of the cots in the bare, cold little
+cells, the narrowness of the benches in the austere chapel, and, in
+the cheerless dining room, the floor of deep sand, in which the
+Bernardines kneel throughout their Friday dinner of bread and water.
+Longest of all, she kept us in the cemetery, all spick and span, with
+close-set rows of nameless graves, each with a cross shaped upon it in
+white seashells. The dear old soul, in her coarse blue gown, with tidy
+white kerchief and neatly darned black hood and veil, showed us the
+grave of her own sister, adding, proudly, that her four remaining
+sisters were all cloistered in various convents of Spain.
+
+"All six of us nuns," she said, "but my brother--no! He has the
+dowries of us all and lives the life of the world. Just think! I have
+two nephews in Toledo. I have never seen them. My sister's grave is
+pretty, is it not? They let me put flowers there. Oh, there are many
+families in Spain like ours, where all the daughters are put into
+convents. Spain is a very religious country. The sons? Not so often.
+Sometimes, when there is a conscription, many young men become priests
+to escape military service but it is the women who are most devout in
+Spain."
+
+And after the rustic gate was shut on the sleeping-place of the
+Bernardines, scarcely more silent and more dead beneath the sod than
+above it, she still detained us with whispered hints of distinguished
+Spanish ladies among those ghostly, far-off figures that, pitchfork or
+pruning knife in hand, would fall instantly upon their knees at the
+ringing of the frequent bell for prayers. Spanish ladies, too, had
+given this French convent many of its most costly treasures. We said
+good-by to our guide near an elaborate shrine of the Madonna, which a
+bereaved Spanish mother had erected with the graven request that the
+nuns pray for the soul of her beloved dead.
+
+"Even we Servants of Mary are not allowed to talk much here," said in
+parting this most sociable of saints, clinging to us with a
+toil-roughened, brown old hand. "It is a holy life, but quiet--very
+quiet. I have been here forty-four years this winter. My name is
+Sister Solitude."
+
+The nun whom I knew best was an exquisite little sister just back from
+Manila. During several months I went to her, in a Paris convent, twice
+or three times a week, for Spanish lessons. The reception room in
+which I used to await her coming shone not as with soap and water, but
+as with the very essence of purity. The whiteness of the long, fine
+curtains had something celestial about it. The only book in sight, a
+bundle of well-worn leaves bound in crimson plush and placed with
+precision in the centre of the gleaming mahogany table, was a volume
+of classic French sermons,--the first two being on Demons, and the
+next on Penance. Further than this I never read; for very punctually
+the slight figure, in violet skirt and bodice, with a white cross
+embroidered upon the breast, swept softly down the hall. A heavy
+purple cord and a large-beaded rosary depended from the waist. In
+conversation she often raised her hand to press her ring, sign of her
+sacred espousals, to her lips. Her type of face I often afterward saw
+in Spain, but never again so perfect. Her complexion was the richest
+southern brown, the eyes brightening in excitement to vivid, flashing
+black. The eyebrows, luxuriant even to heaviness, were nevertheless
+delicately outlined, and the straight line of the white band
+emphasized their graceful arch. The nose was massive for a woman's
+face, and there was a slight shading of hair upon the upper lip. The
+mouth and chin, though so daintily moulded, were strong. Not the
+meek, religious droop of the eyelids could mask the fire, vigor,
+vitality, intensity, that lay stored like so much electricity behind
+the tranquil convent look.
+
+We would go for the lesson to a severe little chamber, whose only
+ornament was a crucifix of olive wood fastened against the wall. Then
+how those velvet eyes would glow and sparkle in the eagerness of
+rushing speech! The little sister loved to tell of her Manila
+experience, almost a welcome break, I fancied, in the monotonous peace
+of cloister life. All that Sunday morning, when the battle was on, the
+nuns maintained their customary services, hearing above their prayers
+and chants and the solemn diapason of the organ, the boom, boom, boom
+of our wicked American cannon. For, according to this naive historian,
+Catholic Spain, best beloved of Our Lady among the nations of the
+earth, had labored long in the Philippines to Christianize the
+heathen, when suddenly, in the midst of those pious labors with which
+she was too preoccupied to think of fitting out men-of-war and
+drilling gunners, a pirate fleet bore down upon her and overthrew at
+once the Spanish banner and the Holy Cross. Tears sparkled through
+flame as the _hermanita_ told of her beautiful convent home, now half
+demolished. The sisters did not abandon it until six weeks after the
+battle, but as the nunnery stood outside the city walls, their
+superior judged it no safe abode for Spanish ladies, and ordered them
+away. The French consul arranged for their transport to Hongkong on a
+dirty little vessel, where they had to stay on deck, the twenty-seven
+of them, during their week's voyage, suffering from lack of proper
+shelter and especially from thirst, the water supply running short the
+second day out. But all this was joy of martyrdom.
+
+"Is not Hongkong a very strange city?" I asked. "Did it seem to you
+more like Manila than like Paris and Madrid?"
+
+The little sister's voice was touched with prompt rebuke.
+
+"You speak after the fashion of the world. All cities look alike to
+us. Ours is the life of the convent. It matters nothing where the
+convent stands."
+
+Stimulated by reproof, I waxed impertinent. "Not even if it stands
+within range of the guns? Now, truly, truly, were you not the least
+bit frightened that morning of the battle?"
+
+The sunny southern smile was a fleeting one, and left a reminiscent
+shadow in the eyes.
+
+"Frightened? Oh, no! There were no guns between us and Paradise. From
+early dawn we heard the firing, and hour after hour we knelt before
+the altar and prayed to the Mother of God to comfort the souls of the
+brave men who were dying for _la patria_; but we were not frightened."
+
+There were strange jostlings of ideas in that cloistered cell,
+especially when the dusk had stolen in between our bending faces and
+the Spanish page.
+
+Once we talked of suicide. That morning it had been a wealthy young
+Parisian who had paid its daily tribute to the Seine.
+
+"What a horror!" gasped the little sister, clasping her slender hands
+against her breast. "It is a mortal sin. And how foolish! For if life
+is hard to bear, surely perdition is harder."
+
+"It does not seem to me so strange in case of the poor," I responded,
+waiving theology. "But a rich man, though his own happiness fails,
+has still the power of making others happy."
+
+"Ah, but I understand!" cried Little Manila, her eyes like stars in
+the dimness. "The devil does not see truth as the blessed spirits do,
+but sees falsehoods even as the world. And so in his blindness he
+believes the soul of a rich man more precious than the souls of the
+poor, and tempts the rich man more than others. Yet when the devil has
+that soul, will he find it made of gold?"
+
+  [Illustration: MADRID ROYAL PALACE]
+
+One chilly November afternoon, gray with a fog that had utterly
+swallowed the Eiffel Tower above its first huge uprights, which
+straddled disconsolately like legs forsaken of their giant, she
+explained in a sudden rush of words why Spain had been worsted in the
+war with America.
+
+"Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth. As with persons, so with
+nations. Those that are not of His fold He gives over to their fill of
+vainglory and greed and power, but the Catholic nations He cleanses
+again and again in the bitter waters of defeat--ah, in fire and blood!
+Yet the end is not yet. The rod of His correction is upon Spain at
+this hour, and the Faithful are glad in the very heart of sorrow, for
+even so shall her sins be purged away, even so shall her coldness be
+quickened, even so shall she be made ready for her everlasting
+recompense."
+
+"And the poor Protestant nations?" I asked, between a smile and a
+sigh.
+
+The little sister smiled back, but the Catholic eyes, for all their
+courtly graciousness, were implacable.
+
+She was of a titled family and had passed a petted childhood in
+Madrid. There she had been taken, on her seventh birthday, to a
+_corrida de toros_, but remembered it unpleasantly, not because of the
+torture inflicted on the horses and bulls, but because she had been
+frightened by the great beasts, with their tossing horns and furious
+bellowing. Horns always made her think of the devil, she said. From
+her babyhood she had been afraid of horns.
+
+One day a mischievous impulse led me to inquire, in connection with a
+chat about the Escorial, "And how do you like Philip II?"
+
+The black eyes shot one ray of sympathetic merriment, but the Spaniard
+and the nun were on their guard.
+
+"He was a very good Catholic," she replied demurely.
+
+"So was _Isabel la Catolica_," I responded. "But don't you think she
+may have been a trifle more agreeable?"
+
+"Perhaps she was a little more _simpatica_," admitted the _hermanita_,
+but that was her utmost concession. She would not even allow that
+Philip had a sorry end.
+
+"If his body groaned, his soul was communing with the Blessed Saints
+and paid no heed."
+
+At the corner of the street which led under the great garden wall to
+the heavily barred gate of the convent was a flower-stand. The shrewd,
+swift-tongued Madame in charge well knew the look of the unwary, and
+usually succeeded in selling me a cluster of drooping blossoms at
+twice the value of the fresh, throwing in an extra leaf or stem at the
+close of the bargain with an air of prodigal benevolence. The handful
+of flowers would be smilingly accepted by the little sister, but
+instantly laid aside nor favored with glance or touch until the close
+of the visit, when they would be lifted again with a winsome word of
+acknowledgment and carried away, probably to spend their sweetness at
+the marble feet of the Virgin. In vain I tried to coax from this
+scorner of God's earth some sign of pleasure in the flowers
+themselves.
+
+"Don't you care for tea-roses?" "_Ah, el mundo pasa._ But their color
+is exquisite."
+
+Yet her eyes did not turn to the poor posy for the two hours
+following.
+
+"This mignonette has only the grace of sweetness."
+
+"It is a delicate scent, but it will not last. _El mundo pasa._"
+
+She held the sprays at arm's length for a moment, and then laid them
+down on a mantel at the farther end of the room.
+
+"I am sorry these violets are not fresher."
+
+"But no! The touch of Time has not yet found them. Still, it is only a
+question of to-morrow. _El mundo pasa._"
+
+"Yes, the world passes. But is it not good while it lasts?"
+
+"The world good! No, no, and a thousand times no. Behold it now at the
+end of the nineteenth century,--wars and sorrows and bitter
+discontents, evil deeds and evil passions everywhere. Do you see the
+peace of Christ in the faces on the Paris streets? The blossoms of
+this earth, the pleasures of this world, the affections of this life,
+all have the taste of death. But here in God's own garden we live even
+now His everlasting life."
+
+"You are always glad of your choice? You never miss the friends of
+your childhood?"
+
+"Glad, glad, glad. Glad of my choice. Glad to see no more the faces of
+father and mother. And for them, too, it is great joy. For Catholic
+parents it is supreme delight to give up their children to the Holy
+Church. The ways of the world are full of slippery places, but when
+they leave us here, they know that our feet are set on the very
+threshold of heaven."
+
+Sometimes the slight form shivered in the violet habit, and the dark
+foreign face looked out with touching weariness from its frame of soft
+white folds.
+
+"You are cold? You are tired? Will you take my cloak? Were the
+children troublesome to-day?"
+
+It was always the same answer: "_No importa. No importa._ It matters
+not. Our life is not the life of flesh and blood."
+
+And indeed, as I saw her in the Christmas service among the other
+Spanish sisters, those lovely figures in white and violet making
+obeisance before the altar until their veiled foreheads almost touched
+the pavement, bowing and rising again with the music like a field of
+lilies swaying in the breeze, I felt that she was already a being of
+another world, before she had known this. Over her had been chanted
+the prayers for the dead. The strange ceremony of taking the veil had
+been her burial rite. The convent seemed a ghost land between earth
+and heaven.
+
+My _hermanita_ belonged to one of the teaching orders, and despite the
+strange blanks in her knowledge, for secular lore had been, so far as
+possible, excluded from her education, she was representative of the
+finer and more intelligent class of Spanish nuns. In Granada I heard
+of the nuns chiefly as the makers of those delicious _dulces_, sugared
+fruits, which were indispensable to a child's saint-day, and there I
+was taught the scoffing epitaph:--
+
+     "Here lies Sister Claribel,
+     Who made sweetmeats very well,
+     And passed her life in pious follies,
+     Such as dressing waxen dollies."
+
+  [Illustration: THE ROYAL FAMILY]
+
+To the spinster outside the nunnery Spain has little to offer. Small
+heed is paid to her except by St. Elias, who, on one day of Holy Week,
+walks about all Seville with a pen in his hand, peering up at the
+balconies and making note of the old maids. Since Andalusia expresses
+the theory of counterparts by saying, "Every one has somewhere in the
+world his half orange," the spinster can hardly hope for a
+well-rounded life. Careers are not open to her. There are "advanced
+women" in Spain, the most eminent being Emelia Pardo Bazan, novelist,
+lecturer, editor, who advocates for women equal educational and
+political privileges with men, but who has not yet succeeded in
+opening the doors. The voice of Spanish women, nevertheless, is
+sometimes heard by Spanish statesmen, as when delegation after
+delegation of senoras who had relatives held as prisoners by the
+Filipinos invaded the senate-house with petitions until they could no
+longer be ignored.
+
+A more thorough and liberal education for Spanish women is the
+pressing need to-day. There is, of course, great lack of primary
+schooling. A girl in her late teens, wearing the prettiest of
+embroidered aprons and with the reddest of roses in her hair, once
+appealed to me in Toledo for help. She had been sent from a
+confectioner's to deliver a tray of wheaten rolls at a given address,
+and she could read neither the names of streets nor the numbers of
+houses. But the higher education will carry the lower with it. Spain
+is degenerate in this regard. The Moors used to have at Cordova an
+academy for girls, where science, mathematics, and history were
+taught. Schools for Spanish girls at present impart little more than
+reading and writing, needle-work, the catechism, the four rules of
+arithmetic, and some slight notion of geography. French and music,
+recognized accomplishments, are learned by daughters of the privileged
+class from their governesses or in the convents. Missionary work in
+Spain has largely concerned itself with the educational question, and
+Mrs. Gulick's project for the establishment of a woman's college in
+Madrid, a college without distinction of creed, is the fruit of long
+experience. Little by little she has proven the intellectual ability
+of Spanish girls. She established the International Institute at San
+Sebastian, secured State examination for her _ninas_ and State
+recognition of their eminent success, and even won for a few of them
+admission to the University of Madrid, where they maintained the
+highest rank throughout the course. All that Spanish girls need is
+opportunity.
+
+But if the senoritas are so charming now, with their roses and their
+graces and their fans, why not leave them as they are, a page of
+mediaeval poetry in this strenuous modern world? If only they were
+dolls outright and did not suffer so! When life goes hard with these
+high-spirited, incapable creatures, it goes terribly hard. I can see
+yet the tears scorch in the proud eyes of three undowered sisters,
+slaving at their one art of embroidery from early till late for the
+miserable pittance that it brought them. "We shall rest when we are
+dead," said the youngest. The absolute lack of future for these brave,
+sensitive girls, well-born, well-bred, naturally as keen as the
+keenest, but more ignorant, in matters of common education, than the
+children of our lowest grammar grade, is heart-breaking. If such girls
+were stupid, shallow, coarse, it would be easier; but the Spanish type
+is finely strung. Once I saw an impulsive beauty fly into that gust of
+angry passion which Spaniards term the _rabia espanola_. A clumsy,
+well-intentioned young Austrian had said a teasing word, and in the
+fraction of a second the girl, overwrought with secret toils and
+anxieties, was in a tempest of tears; but the wrath that blazed across
+them burned the offender crimson. The poor fellow sent for his case of
+choice Asturian cider, cooling in the balcony, read the evening news
+aloud and discoursed on the value of self-control, but not even these
+tactful attentions could undo, for that evening at least, the work of
+his blundering jest. The girl flashed away to her chamber, her
+handkerchief bitten through and through, and the quick fierce sound of
+her sobs came to me across the hall deep into the night.
+
+Wandering over Spain I found everywhere these winning, vivid, helpless
+girls, versed in needlework and social graces, but knowing next to
+nothing of history, literature, science, all that pertains to
+intellectual culture. Some were hungry to learn. More did not dream of
+the world of thought as a possible world for them. Among these it was
+delightful to meet, scattered like precious seed throughout the
+Peninsula, the graduates of the International Institute. So far as a
+stranger could see, education had enhanced in them the Spanish
+radiance and charm, while arming these with wisdom, power, and
+resource.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+ACROSS THE BASQUE PROVINCES
+
+     "The Oak Tree of Guernica
+       Within its foliage green
+     Embraces the bright honor
+       Of all the Basque demesne.
+     For this we count thee holy,
+       Our ancient seal and sign;
+     The fibres of our freedom
+       Are interlaced with thine.
+
+     "Castile's most haughty tyrants
+       Beneath thy solemn shade
+     Have sworn to keep the charter
+       Our fearless fathers made;
+     For noble on our mountains
+       Is he who yokes the ox,
+     And equal to a monarch
+       The shepherd of the flocks."
+                           --_National Song of the Basques._
+
+
+It did not seem to me historically respectful to take leave of Spain
+without having made a pilgrimage to the shrine of Santiago. A
+dauntless friend crossed the sea to bear me company. Hygienic pilgrim
+that she is, she came equipped not with cockle shells and sandal
+shoon, but with sleeping bags, coffee, and cereals. Many a morning, in
+traversing those northern provinces, where the scenery was better than
+the breakfast, we blessed her boxes of "grape nuts," and many a night,
+doomed to penitential beds, we were thankful to intrench ourselves
+against the stings and arrows of outrageous insects in those spacious
+linen bags, that gather close about the neck, or, when dangers
+thicken, above the head, leaving only a loophole for the breath.
+
+Our point of departure was that city of nature's fancy-work, San
+Sebastian. Then, in the early half of July, it was all alive with
+expectancy, looking every day for the coming of the Court. It is
+reputed to be the cleanest town of the Peninsula, and is, in truth, as
+bright as a wave-washed pebble. Nevertheless, it is a favorite waltz
+hall of the fleas, which shamelessly obtrude themselves even into
+conversation.
+
+The chief summer industry of San Sebastian is sea-bathing. The
+soldiers begin it at six o'clock in the morning, marching by regiments
+down to the Concha, clearing for action, and striking out into the
+gentle surf, all in simultaneous obedience to successive words of
+command. Some two hours later teams of oxen draw scores of jaunty
+bathing cars down near the white lip of this opalescent shell of
+water, and there the long day through all ages, sizes, and ranks of
+humanity sport in the curling foam or swim far out into the sparkling
+bay.
+
+San Sebastian is the capital of Guipuzcoa, one of the three Basque
+provinces. These lie among the Cantabrian mountains, and are
+delightfully picturesque with wheat-growing valleys and well-wooded
+heights. As the train wandered on, in its pensive Spanish fashion, we
+found ourselves now in Scotland, in a beautiful waste of heather and
+gorse, now amid the English ivy and hawthorn, hearing the song of the
+English robin, and now in our own New England, with the hilly reaches
+of apple orchards and the fields upon fields of tasselled Indian
+maize.
+
+The Basques are a thrifty folk, and have cultivated their scant acres
+to the utmost. The valleys are planted with corn, the lower hills are
+ridged and terraced for a variety of crops. Above are walnuts and
+chestnuts, and the flintiest summits serve for pasturage. It was
+curious to see men at work on those steep slopes that had been scooped
+out into a succession of narrow shelves, and more strange yet to catch
+glimpses of peasants ploughing the very mountain top, picturesque
+figures against the sky.
+
+The reaping is of the cleanest. The harvest fields have a neat,
+scoured look, as if the women had been over them with scrubbing
+brushes. Yet this utilitarian soil admits of oaks and beeches, ferns
+and clover, morning glories, dandelions, pimpernel, and daisies.
+
+All that sunny morning the train swung us blithely on from one charm
+of the eyes to another--from a ruined watch-tower, where red-handed
+Carlists had crouched, to a bright-kerchiefed maiden singing amid her
+beehives; from a range of abrupt peaks, cleft by deep gorges, to
+sycamore-shaded byways and poplar-bordered streams; from a village
+graveyard, the pathetic little parallelogram enclosed in high gray
+walls and dim with cypress shadows, to a tumbling, madcap torrent
+spanned by a time-gnawed Roman arch. Shooting the heart of some black
+hill, the train would run out on a mere ledge above a valley hamlet,
+and from pure inquisitiveness, apparently, ramble all around the
+circle, peering down from every point of view on the cluster of great,
+patriarchal houses, sometimes of timber and plaster, more often of
+stone, where whole clans dwell together under the same red-tiled roof.
+Queer old houses these, occasionally topped with blue chimneys, and
+now and then with a fantastic coat of arms sculptured over the door,
+or a fresco of saints and devils blazoned all across the front.
+Sometimes freshly whitewashed, these Basque houses have more often a
+weather-worn, dingy look, but, however black the timbers, lines of
+clean linen flutter airily from roofs and balconies.
+
+They are a decent, self-respecting, prosperous people, these Basque
+mountaineers, of whose history my companion told me stirring tales.
+They are supposed, though not without dispute, to be the oldest race
+in Europe, descendants of those original Iberians whom the
+westward-trooping Aryans drove into the fastnesses of the Pyrenees.
+They have their own language, of Asiatic type. They themselves believe
+that it was spoken in the Garden of Eden. There are some twenty-five
+dialects of the _Vascuense_, and it is so difficult for foreigners
+that even George Borrow spoke it "with considerable hesitation," and
+one exhausted student, abandoning the struggle, declared that the
+words were all "written Solomon and pronounced Nebuchadnezzar." The
+Basques attribute their hardy virtues to the crabbedness of their
+speech, telling how the devil, after slaving over their vocabulary for
+seven years, had succeeded in learning only three words, and threw up
+his lesson in a pet, so that to this day he remains unable to meddle
+with their peasant piety. What little literature there is in the
+Basque language is naturally of the popular cast--hero songs, dancing
+songs, dirges, hymns, and folk-lore.
+
+The Basques are noted for their passionate love of liberty. The sturdy
+peasant is lord of his own rugged farm, and insists on tilling it in
+his own primitive way, breaking the soil with rude mattock more often
+than with plough. An English engineer, laying a railroad through
+Alava, tried his best to make his men abandon their slow, laborious
+method of carrying the earth in baskets on their heads. He finally had
+all the baskets removed by night, and wheelbarrows left in their
+places. But the unalterable Basques set the loaded wheelbarrows on
+their heads, and staggered about beneath these awkward burdens until,
+for very shame, he had to give them back their baskets.
+
+The peasant drives over the mountain roads in a ponderous ox-cart,
+with two clumsy disks of wood for wheels. The platform is wrought of
+rough-hewn beams, five or seven, the middle one running forward to
+serve as pole. All the structure, except the iron tires and nails, is
+of wood, and the solid wooden wheels, as the massive axle to which
+they are riveted turns over and over, make a most horrible squeaking.
+It is a sound dear to the peasantry, for they believe the oxen like
+it, and, moreover, that it frightens away the devil; but once upon a
+time a town of advanced views voted a fine of five dollars for any man
+who should bring this musical abomination within its limits. Thereupon
+a freeborn Basque rose with the dawn, selected his best carved oaken
+yoke, draped the red-stained sheepskin a trifle more carefully than
+usual above the patient eyes of his great smooth oxen, and took his
+way, "squeakity-squeak, squeakity-squeak," straight to the door of the
+_Ayuntamiento_, city hall, where he paid his twenty-five _pesetas_,
+and then devoted the rest of the day to driving all about the streets,
+squeaking out his money's worth. This is no servile temper, and it was
+not until our own generation that the dearly cherished liberties of
+the Basques were wrested away.
+
+  [Illustration: THE MANZANARES]
+
+These warders of the Pyrenees, for the Basques of Navarre and those
+now known as French Basques must not be forgotten, did good service in
+helping the Visigoths beat back the northward-pressing Moors and the
+southward-pressing Franks; but when the Basque provinces of Spain were
+incorporated with Leon and Navarre, and later with Castile, the
+mountaineers stood stubbornly for their _fueros_, or peculiar rights.
+
+My comrade's lecture had reached this point, when, finding ourselves
+at Amorebieta, in the Province of Vizcaya, or Biscay, we suddenly
+descended from the train, and handed our bags to an honest Basque
+porter, who deposited them on the floor of an open waiting room, in
+full reach of an honest Basque population. For ourselves, we turned
+our faces toward the centre of Vizcayan glory, the famous Tree of
+Guernica. We entered a rustic train, that seemed entirely undecided
+which way to go. The station agent blew a little tin horn, green
+meadows and wattled fences began to glide past the car windows, and
+the interrupted discourse was resumed.
+
+The lawmakers of Vizcaya were duly chosen by their fellow-nobles, for
+every Basque held the rank of _hidalgo_, or "son of somebody." The
+deputies met every two years in the village of Guernica, sitting on
+stone benches in the open air beneath the sacred oak, and there
+elected the _Senores de Vizcaya_. Even the kings of Spain were allowed
+no grander title, but had to come to the Tree of Guernica, at first in
+person, later by deputy, and there swear to observe the _fueros_. To
+this green shadow came the peasant from his lonely farm-house, high on
+the mountainside, to answer before his peers to such charges as might
+be brought against him; for within the sanctuary of his home the law
+could lay no hand on him or his.
+
+It was the Carlist wars that changed all this. The _fueros_, of which
+a list dating from 1342 is still extant, granted the Basque provinces
+a Republican Constitution that almost realized an ideal democracy,
+with immunity from taxes save for their own needs, and from military
+service beyond their own boundaries. But when the dynastic strife
+broke out, the Basques put on the white cap of Don Carlos and bore the
+brunt of the conflict. We had already passed through Vergara, where,
+in 1839, Espartero ended the first Carlist war by a treaty which
+compelled the Basques to lay down their arms. But the cost of this
+rebellion was paid in blood. Their political status was practically
+unaffected. At the close of the second Carlist war, in 1876, Alfonso
+XII signalized his victory by meting out to them a terrible
+punishment, abrogating the precious _fueros_ that the Tree of Guernica
+had guarded for so many centuries. The Government imposed, moreover,
+its salt and tobacco monopolies, and made the Basques subject to
+military conscription. At every station we saw Spain's Vizcayan
+soldiers, red-capped and red-trousered, with blue-belted frock coats,
+under which beat hearts of doubtful loyalty. The son of Alfonso XII
+will have to reckon with the Basques, when the third Carlist war shall
+be declared, but it may be doubted whether the _fueros_, which Don
+Carlos, of course, promises to restore, will ever come home to nest
+again in the Guernica Oak.
+
+My erudite fellow-vagabond was just pointing out the typical shape of
+the Basque head, with its broad forehead, long, narrowing face, curved
+nose, and pointed chin, when we reached Guernica. Such a sweet and
+tranquil village as it is, set in the beauty of the hills, with the
+dignity and pathos of its history pervading every hushed,
+old-fashioned street! The guide, whom two affable ladies, sharers of
+our carriage in the little picnic train, had taken pains to look up
+for us at the station, was not, we judged, a favorable specimen of the
+haughty Basque _hidalgo_. He was a dull, mumbling, slouchy lad, who
+sunk his voice to an awed whisper as we passed the escutcheon-carved
+palace of a count. But he led us by pleasant ways to the modern _Casa
+de Juntas_, or Senate House, where we were shown the assembly room,
+with its altar for mass, the library and other apartments, together
+with the portraits of the twenty-six first _Senores de Vizcaya_, from
+Lope the Pirate, who forced back the invading Galicians in 840, to the
+Infante Don Juan, under whom the Basque provinces were finally
+incorporated with Castile.
+
+Close by the _Casa de Juntas_, which stands in a dreamy bit of park as
+fresh and trim as an English cathedral close, rises a pillared
+portico. There, where brown-eyed little Basque girls, their brown
+braids blowing in the breeze, were dangling green figs above their
+laughing mouths, used to sit, on those seven stone seats, the grave
+Basque fathers, making laws, meting out judgment, and regulating all
+the affairs of this simple mountain republic. The portico, bearing as
+joint devices the lion and castle of Spain and the three wolves of
+Vizcaya, was formerly enveloped in the leafy shadow of the Sacred
+Tree; but what rises behind it now is only the gaunt stem of a
+patriarchal oak, a very Abraham of plants, all enclosed in glass, as
+if embalmed in its casket. Before the portico, however, grows a lusty
+scion, for the Tree of Guernica is of unbroken lineage, shoots being
+always cherished to succeed in case the centuried predecessor fail.
+
+In presence of this despoiled old trunk, majestic with memories, we
+felt an honest awe and longed to give it adequate salute. My comrade
+levelled her kodak and took front views, back views, and side views
+with such spendthrift enthusiasm that the custodian, deeply impressed,
+presented her with a dried leaf from the junior, cunningly pricked out
+so as to suggest the figure of the tree. The national song of the
+Basques, a matter of some dozen stanzas, written principally in "j's,"
+"rr's," and "tz's," takes its theme, if one may trust the Castilian
+translation, from this symbolic oak.
+
+The historian wished to do nothing more in Guernica but sit and gaze
+forever on that spectral trunk, but the reminder that piety was a
+hardly less marked Basque characteristic than political independence,
+finally induced her to follow our guide to the church. A Basque church
+has its distinctive features, including a belfry, a lofty, plain
+interior, with galleries, and often a votive ship, gayly painted and
+fully rigged, suspended from the ceiling. The lad bore himself with
+simple-minded devotion, offering us on stubby finger tips the holy
+water and making due obeisance before each gilded shrine.
+
+But my attention was soon fascinated by a foot-square relief on a blue
+ground of Santiago--
+
+     "Good Saint James upon the milkwhite steed,
+     Who leaves his bliss to fight for chosen Spain."
+
+I had hardly anticipated such a stalwart, vigorous, not to say violent
+saint, with his white horse galloping, his gold-sandalled feet
+gripping the great stirrups, his gold-fringed, crimson robe and azure
+mantle streaming on the wind, his terrible sword glittering high in
+air. This was clearly not a person to be trifled with, and I looked
+about for the historian to tell her that we must be pressing forward
+on our pilgrimage. But she had stolen out, every sympathetic Basque
+image of the sculptured doorway conspiring to keep a stony silence and
+conceal her flight, and had sped back to the Tree of Guernica, from
+whose contemplation she was torn away only by a fairy-tale of supper.
+
+Of the several Basque churches which we visited, including the bridal
+church of Louis XIV, far-famed San Juan de Luz, whose sides and west
+end are portioned off by three tiers of galleries, fairest in memory
+is the sixteenth-century church of Begona in Bilbao. It abounds, as
+coast churches should, in suggestions of that mighty, mysterious
+neighbor, at once so cruel and so beneficent, the sea. Instead of
+votive ships, the walls are hung with paintings of vessels in scenes
+of appalling peril. One is scudding madly before a tropical gale; one
+has her rigging ragged by hurricane and her decks lashed with tempest;
+one, careened upon her side, lies at the mercy of the billows, which
+are sweeping over her and tumbling her crew like ninepins into the
+deep. But the presence of the pictures, bold dashes of the modern
+brush amid dim old paintings of saints and martyrs, tells that Our
+Lady of Begona succored her sailors in distress, who, on their safe
+return, came hither to offer thanks for their preservation and to
+leave these mementos of their danger and her efficient aid.
+
+"Is your Virgin so very powerful?" we asked of a chorister boy while
+he drew the cords to part the curtains that screened the jewelled
+image throned in a recess above the high altar.
+
+"I should rather think she was," answered the little fellow in a glow.
+"Why, let me tell you! Robbers, the accursed ones, came here on a dark
+midnight to steal her precious stones. They entered by a window, those
+sons of wretched mothers, and put up a long ladder against the altar
+wall. The wickedest of them all, senoras, he climbed the ladder and
+raised his hand to take Our Lady's crown. And in that instant the
+great bells overhead began to ring, and all the bells of all Bilbao
+pealed with them, and the people waked and came running to the rescue
+of Our Lady, and the robbers were put to death."
+
+Our expression did not quite satisfy his boyish ardor, and he pointed
+convincingly toward a handsome silver plaque. "And this, too,
+witnesses Our Lady's power. It was given in memory of the cholera
+time, when people were dying like flies in all the towns about. But
+after Our Lady was carried in procession through the streets of
+Bilbao, not one died here, except a sinful man who would not turn his
+head to look upon her."
+
+"That is a painting of the procession, the large picture over there on
+the wall?"
+
+"No, no, senoras. That picture commemorates another of Our Lady's
+wonderful deeds. The floods were threatening the city, but Our Lady,
+with many censers and candles, was borne down to the river bank, and
+she ordered the water to go back, and it obeyed her, and all the town
+was saved."
+
+We retreated to the cloisters, from which one has a superb view of the
+valley of the Nervion, for Our Lady of Begona dwells high upon a
+hilltop. Only the afternoon before we had been in serene Guernica, a
+strange contrast to this mining capital of Vizcaya, this bustling,
+noisy, iron-grimed Bilbao, in which the Basques take such delight. It
+is not a city to gratify the mere tourist, who expects the people of
+the lands through which he is pleased to pass to devote themselves to
+looking picturesque. But even Spain is something more than food for
+the kodak, and this sooty atmosphere of smelting works and factories,
+traffic and commerce, means life to Spanish lungs. It is little to my
+credit that I took more interest in the fact that Bilbao used to
+supply Shakespeare's cronies with rapiers, under the name of
+"bilboes," than in statistics regarding those millions of tons of ore
+which its iron mines are now annually exporting to Great Britain. The
+many English in Bilbao, miners and artisans, with the influence they
+shed around them, make the streets rougher and uglier than in purely
+Spanish towns. On the other hand, they bring a spirit of religious
+independence, so that it is not strange to find the Spanish
+Protestants of Bilbao a numerous and vigorous body, counting as a
+pronounced element in the community.
+
+From the idle peace of the Begona cloisters, as from the old-time
+world, we looked long on this Spanish city of to-day, seething with
+manifold activities. We seemed to understand how, to the middle-class
+Spaniard, hemmed in by all this mediaeval encumbrance of barracks,
+cathedrals, castles, and thrones, such cities as Bilbao and Barcelona,
+pulsing with industrial energy and enterprise, are "more beautiful
+than Beauty's self." The Basques, like the Catalans, take readily to
+business. They set their mountain cascades to turning mill-wheels,
+they canal their little Nervion till it can give passage to ships of
+four thousand tons burden, they paint the night with the flare of
+mighty furnaces. Every year they are building more wharves, more
+railroads, more electric tramways, and they are so prodigiously proud
+of their new iron bridge, with its flying ferry, which whisks
+passengers over from Portugalete to Las Arenas at the rate of two
+hundred a minute, that they stamp it on their characteristic jewelry.
+That cunning Eibar work of the Basque provinces displays again and
+again, on locket, bracelet, brooch, this incongruous design of the
+_Puente Vizcaya_ beaten on chased steel in gold.
+
+We looked regretfully out over those significant reaches of land which
+we would have liked to explore to the last hearthstone. The Basque
+provinces! We had not even set foot in Vitoria, the capital of Alava,
+where is preserved the grim old _machete_ by which Basque governors
+were sworn into office. "May my head be cut off with this knife," ran
+the oath, "if I do not defend the _fueros_ of my fatherland."
+
+And we longed to attend one of the peasant festivals, to see the lads
+play _pelota_ and the lasses step Basque dances to the music of the
+village pipers, to hear the wild old marches and battle tunes that
+have roused the Roman and the Moor to arms. The mystery plays of the
+Basques were famous once, and although these naive dramas are now
+mainly confined to Christmas and Easter, who could say that we might
+not chance on some saint-day fragment? There was soon to take
+place, too, in one of the Vizcayan hamlets a "blessing of the fields,"
+a processional harvest rite of pagan antiquity, formerly universal in
+Spain, but now confined to a few rural districts. We had a hundred
+reasons for lingering--but what are reasons? Pilgrims of St. James
+must put fresh peas in their shoes and be off for Compostela.
+
+  [Illustration: SPANISH CEMETERY]
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+IN OLD CASTILE
+
+     "With three thousand men of Leon from the city Bernard goes,
+     To protect the soil Hispanian from the spear of Frankish foes;
+     From the city which is planted in the midst between the seas,
+     To preserve the name and glory of old Pelayo's victories.
+
+     "The peasant hears upon his field the trumpet of the knight,--
+     He quits his team for spear and shield and garniture of might;
+     The shepherd hears it 'mid the mist,--he flingeth down his crook,
+     And rushes from the mountain like a tempest-troubled brook."
+                                       --LOCKHART: _Spanish Ballads_.
+
+
+The journey from Bilbao to Santander is a continuous glory of mountain
+views. The train runs saucily along under beetling crags, whence the
+gods of the hills may well look down in wonder and displeasure on this
+noisy invasion of their solitude. We almost saw those ancient
+majesties folding themselves grandly in mantles of purple shadow, but
+hardly less royal in bearing were the muffled figures of the lonely
+shepherds tending their flocks on the very summits.
+
+The modern Province of Santander is the renowned Montana, the mountain
+lair which nourished the chivalry of Old Castile, and from which they
+made wild sallies to the south, troop after troop, generation after
+generation, until the Moorish standards were beaten back from the
+plains about Toledo to the Sierras of Andalusia. Its capital city,
+Santander, named from St. Andrew, was one of the four coast towns
+which rendered signal service to Fernando in the conquest of Seville.
+These towns, lying as they did over against the Cinque Ports of
+England, came into so frequent conflict with British mariners as to be
+made in the days of Edward III the subject of a special treaty.
+
+A summer resort, however, is a summer resort the world over, and we
+found the historic city, which has gracefully fitted itself to the
+curve of its beautiful bay, crowded with idle people, elaborately
+dressed, who sat long at the noonday breakfast, and longer yet at the
+evening dinner, and then longest of all on the benches in the park,
+where bands clashed and fireworks flared, until the very stars began
+to blink for sleepiness.
+
+Spaniards have a veritable passion for pyrotechnics, and our dreams
+until the dawn would be punctuated by the airy report of rockets, as
+if, so Galdos suggests, "the angels were cracking nuts in the sky."
+Every now and then in those soft warm nights there rose a shout of
+song from the street, and peeping down from the balcony, we would see
+half a dozen lads and lasses leaping along through the middle of the
+road, all abreast and hand in hand, in one of their boisterous peasant
+dances.
+
+There are no fewer dangers and sorrows for girls in Spain than in the
+other Latin lands. In the low-vaulted, mighty-pillared, deep-shadowed
+crypt under the old cathedral, a crypt that is the very haunt of
+religious mystery and dread, we came upon a penitent kneeling before
+the altar, a bit of written paper pinned to her back. In a stir of the
+chill air this fluttered to the ground, and as she, unconscious of
+its loss, bowed herself before another shrine, we picked up the paper
+with a half thought of restoring it; but seeing in the first glance
+that it was a rudely written prayer, entreating the Virgin's pity and
+pardon for her lover and herself, we let it fall again at Mary's feet.
+All manner of thank-offerings, waxen limbs, eyes, and ears, were hung
+in these candle-lit recesses, little spaces of gold amid the gloom. We
+had grown accustomed to such fragments of anatomy in the shop-windows,
+where even votive stomachs are displayed for sale.
+
+Although Santander is a dawdler's paradise, the residents of the city
+to whom we had letters were no holiday makers, but Spaniards of the
+earnest, thoughtful, liberal type, busy with large tasks of their own,
+but never too busy, being Spaniards, to show unstinted kindness to the
+strangers within their gates. Our brief stay did not admit of a tithe
+of the excursions they had in mind for us, but my comrade achieved a
+trip to Santillana del Mar, birthplace of the doughty Gil Blas.
+
+In the latest version of her adventures, she set forth from Santander
+under the bluest of skies, in company with the most bewitching of
+senoritas. They left the train at Torrelavega, where the shade of
+Garci Laso, one of King Pedro's victims, would doubtless have welcomed
+them, had not their attention been taken up with a picturesque
+coachman, who was standing dreamily on the station platform. This
+Adonis proved a complete paragon, who, as they took their romantic
+course over the hills, delightedly pointed out ivied tower, broken
+portcullis, and the like, as tidbits for the kodak.
+
+Santillana is the shrine of Santa Juliana, a Roman martyr, whose body
+is said to have been carried thither in the ninth century. Her
+devotees among the mountain wilds built her in this green valley,
+overhung by a rude old fortress, a precious church, a jewel of the
+early Romanesque, about whose walls a thriving community soon
+gathered. Santillana was throughout the Middle Ages the most important
+place between Burgos and Oviedo, and gave name to all that part of the
+Montana. The successive Marquises of Santillana were then great
+personages in Spain, playing a leading part at Court. One of the
+proudest families of Old Castile, they claimed descent from the Cid,
+and cherished the memory of another heroic ancestor, who, in 1385,
+sacrificed his life to save his king.
+
+     "'Your horse is faint, my King, my Lord! your gallant horse is
+       sick,--
+     His limbs are torn, his breast is gored, on his eye the film is
+       thick;
+     Mount, mount on mine, O mount apace, I pray thee mount and fly!
+     Or in my arms I'll lift your Grace,--their trampling hoofs are
+       nigh!
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "'Nay, never speak; my sires, Lord King, received their land from
+       yours,
+     And joyfully their blood shall spring, so be it thine secures;
+     If I should fly, and thou, my King, be found among the dead,
+     How could I stand 'mong gentlemen, such scorn on my gray head?'
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "So spake the brave Montanez, Butrago's lord was he;
+     And turned him to the coming host in steadfastness and glee;
+     He flung himself among them, as they came down the hill,--
+     He died, God wot! but not before his sword had drunk its fill."
+
+The city of Santillana, whose lords once laid claim to the sovereignty
+of Santander, has shrunk to a forgotten village, and the neglected
+church is dropping into ruins; but the inhabitants have abated not a
+jot of that fierce local patriotism which blinds the provincial
+Spaniard to all defects of his birthplace and to all excellences of
+rival towns. A graybeard told the stranger ladies that Santillana was
+the oldest city in Spain and its cathedral the most beautiful. This
+latter statement they were almost ready to accept, so richly carven
+was the yellow stone and so harmonious the proportions of nave and
+aisle. When they arrived at this miniature Durham they found it closed
+and silent, with three little boys sleeping on the steps. Through the
+benevolence of the ever present Spanish loafers, the sacristan was
+sought out and a ragged escort formed for their progress from chapel
+to chapel, where rare old pictures and frescos glowed across the dusk.
+Best of all were the venerable cloisters, weed-grown and tumble-down,
+but lovely as a mediaeval dream with mellow-tinted arch and column, and
+with capitals of marvellous device. This crumbling church still keeps
+a dazzling hoard of treasures. All the front of the high altar is
+wrought of solid silver, the reredos is a miracle of art, and the
+paintings of old masters that moulder here unseen would long since in
+any other land than Catholic Spain have been the spoils of gallery and
+museum.
+
+The cathedral stands just outside the town, whose narrow, crooked
+streets daunted the carriage; but these enthusiastic sightseers were
+all the better pleased to foot the flagging that many a clinking tread
+had worn and to touch on either side, with their extended hands, the
+fortresslike houses built of heavy stone and dimly emblazoned with
+fierce armorial bearings. These grim dwellings were gladdened by the
+grace of vine-clad balconies, where children frolicked and women
+crooned quaint melodies over their needlework.
+
+     "Will no one tell me what she sings?
+       Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
+     For old, unhappy, far-off things
+       And battles long ago."
+
+The inn was merely the customary Spanish _venta_, rough and poor, the
+darkness of whose long, low room clouds of tobacco smoke from clumps
+of gambling muleteers were making blacker yet; but lemonade was served
+to the ladies in the open porch with a charm of cordial courtesy far
+beyond Delmonico's.
+
+As they quaffed this modest refreshment and watched the shifting
+groups about the _venta_, which seemed the centre of the social life,
+there suddenly appeared upon the scene a ghost from the modern world,
+an everyday gentleman in a straw hat, as citified and up to date as if
+he had that moment stepped out of a Madrid cafe. All the loungers
+within and without the _venta_ sprang to their feet, bared their
+heads, and bowed low to this anachronism with so profound a deference
+that the tourists began to wonder if the irrepressible Gil Blas had
+come alive again. Not he! This was the Marquis of Santillana, bearing
+under his arm instead of a sword a bundle of newspapers. The first
+Marquis of Santillana had been a famous warrior and troubadour. This
+latest "inheritor of old renown," seating himself in the midst of his
+thronging vassals, graciously proceeded, much like a University
+Extension lecturer, to read aloud, with simple explanations, the news
+of the day. Such is the final form of _noblesse oblige_ in the feudal
+valley of Santillana.
+
+We were tempted to hunt out other nooks and eyries in the mountains of
+Santander, to see something of the famous sardine fisheries, to drive
+along the many-storied coast all the way to Gijon, paying our respects
+in passing to a noble oak of Asturias, one of the three largest trees
+of Europe; but always the uplifted sword of St. James drove us on. If
+we would reach Compostela in season for the annual _fiesta de
+Santiago_, there was no time to lose. So, in default of a nearer
+railway connection, we started due south for Palencia. Our route ran
+at first through a land of hills, maize, and stone walls that might
+have been New England, except for the women scratching away in the
+hay-fields, and politely saluting the train with a flourish of their
+pitchforks.
+
+Then more and more the landscape became Spanish. Little stone hamlets
+dozed in ever shallower valleys, mule trains and solitary horsemen
+moved slowly down poplar-bordered highways, white as chalk; there was
+a slumbering peasant for every speck of shade. But while the men took
+their siestas, often sleeping where the drowsiness had befallen them,
+with arm thrown about the wooden plough or with head pillowed on the
+thrashing roller, there were always women at work--figures clad in the
+very colors of the harvest, red and gold and purple, binding sheaves,
+sweeping the fields with stout brush brooms, tending flocks and herds
+by the rivers, following stray sheep over the hills, with only a
+handkerchief at the most to protect their heads from the terrible
+noonday sun. As the afternoon wore on, we found ourselves in the
+melancholy reaches of brown Castilian plain, with the adobe towns,
+the miserable mud villages, open-air threshing floors, and arid,
+silent, Oriental look.
+
+  [Illustration: TOLEDO]
+
+The only cloud in sight was that which rested for a moment on my
+comrade's face. She had so newly come from our clean and wholesome
+fatherland that certain features of the Spanish inns still shook her
+high serenity of soul, and she had suddenly discovered that Baedeker
+significantly characterized the Palencia hotel as "an indifferent
+Spanish house." In the discreet language of our excellent guidebook
+this was no less than a note of warning, a signal of alarm. But even
+Baedeker is fallible, and on arriving at the _Gran Hotel Continental_,
+we were met by all the Castilian dignity and grave kindliness of
+greeting, and led to rooms whose floors shone with oil and scrubbing,
+whose curtains, towels, and sheeting were white as mountain snow, and
+whose furnishings were resplendent with two dozen chairs upholstered
+in orange satin. We seated ourselves in rapture on one saffron throne
+after another, drank fresh milk from polished glasses, and slept, for
+this only night of all our Santiago pilgrimage, the sleep of the
+unbitten. A sweet-voiced _sereno_ intoning the hours set our dreams to
+music.
+
+The following morning we spent in the cathedral, which, though of
+plain exterior, except for the many-imaged "Door of the Bishop," is
+all lightness, grace, and symmetry within. The organ was pealing and
+women were kneeling for the mass as we went softly down the
+high-vaulted nave, our spirits played upon now by the dignity of
+pointed arches and of clustered columns and now by delicate beauties
+in tracery and carving. Only here and there were we aware of a jarring
+note, as in chancing upon a great crucifix whose Christ was decked
+out in two elegant lace petticoats and a white silk crinoline
+embroidered over with silver thread.
+
+When the chant had died away, an affectionate old sacristan, in a
+curious red and black coat, delivered us with sundry farewell pats and
+pinches over to the charge of a subordinate, who proceeded to display
+the hidden treasures. These are far from overwhelming, after the
+glittering hoards of Burgos, Seville, and Toledo, but they are as odd
+an assortment as sacristy ever sheltered. There was an absurd portrait
+of Charles I, a freak of foreshortening. At first sight it seemed to
+be the skeleton of a fish, but on viewing it through a peephole the
+creature had become a human face. Even so, it was hardly a flattering
+likeness of the founder of the Austrian line; but as it was Charles I
+who stripped Palencia of her original powers and dignities, one would
+not expect to find him complimented here.
+
+We turned our attention to the vestments, which, though few, are
+peculiarly artistic, with devices, stitched in gold thread and in
+jewel reds and greens, of pomegranates, roses, ecclesiastical coats of
+arms, angels, Maries, Nativities, and Adorations. These were
+appropriate enough, but even our reserved conductor, a monastic youth
+who wore a white, openwork tunic over his black suit, smiled
+disdainfully as he put before us a time-yellowed ivory box arabesqued
+with men and lions, the jewel casket of some pet sultana. "But why
+should it be here?" He shrugged his shoulders. "In truth, it is not
+holy--a woman's thing! Nor do I know how it came to us, but what we
+have we keep."
+
+The sacristy certainly seems to have kept more than its share of
+_custodias_. Our guide first brought out a dainty structure, where
+grieving angels uplift the cross, and the Sufferer's halo is wrought
+of pearls and gems. This was replaced by another, a marvel of
+goldsmith's craft, turreted and crocketed with fine gold, while all
+about the base are figured Annunciations, Visitations, and other
+mysteries. Rich as they were, neither of these could compare with that
+famous pyx of the Escorial, inlaid with ten thousand precious stones.
+Then our conductor took us with a mighty turning of monster keys,
+pulling of rusty bolts, and fall of clanging chains, to see the
+supreme _custodia_ of all, one great dazzle of silver from fretted
+base to dome and pinnacle, save as among the Corinthian columns of the
+first stage glisten golden forms of the Apostles, and of the second,
+winged shapes of cherubim and seraphim. This shining tower, some three
+or four centuries old, is beheld by Palencia only on Corpus Christi
+Day, when, holding at its heart the golden monstrance which holds the
+Host, it passes as a triumphal car throughout the city. Priests
+walking on either side make a feint of drawing it by tasselled cords,
+but "little would it budge for that," said our guide, in high disdain,
+opening a door in the frame beneath to reveal the benches where strong
+men sit concealed and toil at a motor crank. He had much more to show
+us, including precious old tapestries of the Netherlands, and a St.
+Katharine by Zurbaran, with a light on the kneeling figure as pure and
+bright as a moonbeam; but we had to press the fee on his Castilian
+pride, when at last the vulgarity of luncheon summoned us away.
+
+For the historian, basking in this last smile of civilization, the
+afternoon passed blissfully among the orange chairs, but I sallied
+forth once more, attended by our benignant landlady. The rays of the
+sun flashed down like deadly arrows and I had pleaded for a carriage,
+but longed to beg its pardon when it came, so faded, rheumatic, and
+yet august was that fat old chariot, groaning and tottering as it
+rolled, but lowering the pomp of a velvet-carpeted staircase whenever
+we desired to alight.
+
+Our progress made a grand sensation in those drowsy streets and
+squares, a retinue soon gathered, and nobody seemed surprised when,
+after a round of Jesuit and Dominican churches, we drew up before the
+madhouse. I had wished to look upon this building, because it is
+reputed to have been a dwelling of the Cid; but the hero of Castile
+was as unknown to my gentle escort as to the medical priest whom she
+must needs call forth to meet me, or to the hapless lunatics whom he,
+in turn, insisted on my seeing. A town which had forgotten its chief
+citizen naturally fails to keep on sale photographs of its cathedral,
+so we packed our memories in default of anything more substantial and
+took the evening train to the northwest.
+
+Four hours of hushed, moonlit plain, and then Leon! This is a name of
+thrilling memories, and we stepped out into the midnight silence of
+that once royal capital whose kingdom "stretched from the Atlantic
+Ocean to the Rhone," so awed that even a rickety 'bus, and a smuggler
+who tried to hide his trunk behind our honest luggage, hardly broke
+the spell. My comrade, still new to Spanish ways, had fears that the
+illustrated card which I had forgotten to stamp would not have reached
+the hotel. She asked me why I did not telegraph; but some days later,
+when we sent a telegram at noon, took a way-train at five, and reached
+our destination at ten, simultaneously with the telegram which I might
+as well have brought in my pocket, she was set free from New World
+prejudices. The unstamped card went through without question, a
+picture of a pretty mountain maid being quite as acceptable to the
+postal clerks as the portrait of their young king.
+
+We were expected at the hotel, the best in town, but so dirty and
+malodorous that we would better have camped under the stars. There had
+been some attempt to sweep the floor of our dingy chamber, as we could
+see by comparing it with stairs and corridors. Sour milk and sour
+bread were served with a compensating sweetness of manner, but the
+experiences of that night belong to oblivion.
+
+The joy of the morning! Guided by a shy little scullery lad, smooched
+of face and ragged of raiment, but with all the instincts of a
+cavalier, we stepped out into those stately streets, with their
+haughty old houses, balconies, coats of arms, arches, and battlements,
+as into an animated picture book. It was Saturday, and the town was
+all astir with peasants come to market, every peasant as good as a
+romance. Such brightness of figured kerchiefs, homespun petticoats,
+trunk hose, jackets, sashes! The little girls were quaintest of all,
+dressed precisely like their mammas, even to those brilliant skirts
+edged with one color and slashed with another. Many of the women were
+carrying loads of greens, others plucked fowls, and some had indignant
+chickens, in full possession of chicken faculties, snuggled under the
+arm.
+
+As the chief city in a far reach of luxuriant plain, Leon becomes the
+focus, every Saturday, of flocks of sheep, droves of pigs, and herds
+of cattle, together with innumerable mules and donkeys bringing in
+grain, fruit, and all manner of garden produce. We chanced upon the
+market itself in the arcaded _Plaza Mayor_, under shadow of the
+towered court-house, with the tapering spire of the cathedral
+overlooking all. The great square hummed like a beehive and sparkled
+with shifting color like a field of butterflies. We found ourselves
+first in the bread market. Under wide umbrellas of canvas set on poles
+women were perched high on wooden benches, with their gayly shod feet
+supported on stools. Beside each woman, on her rude seat, was a
+brightly woven basket heaped with the horny Spanish loaves. Close by
+was the fruit market, with its piles of red and purple plums, pears,
+grapes, green peppers, lemons, and, beyond, patches of melons,
+cucumbers, cabbages, potatoes, beans, and that staff of Spanish life,
+chick pease, or _garbanzos_.
+
+The meat market appeared to be itinerant. A man in blue blouse, short
+brown breeches, and dove-colored hose adorned with green tassels, was
+leading a cow by its crumpled horn; an old woman, with giant silver
+hoops in her ears, a lavender shawl knotted about her body, her
+scarlet skirt well slashed so as to show the gamboge petticoat
+beneath, and so short for all its purple frill as to display the
+clockwork of her variegated stockings, was carrying a black lamb,
+nestled like a baby in her arms; another walking rainbow bore a live
+turkey; and a lad, whose rosy-hued kerchief, shawl, and sash floated
+like sunrise clouds about him, balanced on his erect young head an
+immense basket of eggs. There was a pottery section, too,--square rods
+of cups, plates, and jars in all manner of russet tints and graceful
+shapes.
+
+The various divisions were intermingled and blent into one great
+open-air market, the cheeriest sort of neighborhood picnic, where
+gossip, jest, and laughter were accompanied by the cackling of fowls,
+braying of donkeys, and cooing of babies. Here fluttered a colony of
+bantams cast, their legs well tied, down on the cobble-stones; there
+stood carts laden with bunches of the yellowish dried heather; here
+two patient oxen had laid themselves out for a snooze; there a wicked
+little ass was blinking at the greens; here squatted a damsel in gold
+kerchief, garnet bodice, and beryl skirt, weighing out fresh figs;
+there sat a cobbler pegging away at his stall, his patrons waiting
+with bare feet while he mended their shoes; stands of cheeses, coops
+of chickens, children sleeping among the sacks of grain, a boy waving
+a rod on which was strung a gorgeous assortment of garters; loitering
+soldiers, limping beggars, bargaining ladies attended by their maids,
+all gave notes to the harmony. Yet with all that trampling, small
+weeds were growing green amid the slippery stones that pave the
+square.
+
+The Leon peasantry is said to be the finest in all Spain, and surely
+no concourse of people could have been more honest, courteous, and
+dignified than this. The women wore ornamented wallets beneath the
+skirt, and warned us gravely against carrying money in exposed
+pockets; but we moved freely among the press with notebook and kodak,
+always the centre of curious groups, and our purses were not touched.
+Indeed we found it difficult to spend even a _peseta_, so modest were
+the prices. For as large a jar as our little squire could well carry
+we paid the value of three cents. The men often rebuked the children
+for staring and questioning, but stood themselves at gaze, and asked
+us frankly what we were about. When we replied that we had never seen
+so beautiful a market, and were taking notes and photographs that we
+might not forget, the peasants smilingly passed the word from one side
+of the _plaza_ to the other, and all, even to the chief of police, who
+was strutting about waving an unnecessary staff, were eager to offer
+information and to point out picturesque subjects.
+
+But the morning was slipping away, and we had almost forgotten the
+oracle of a Spanish gentleman in Palencia: "Leon has three sights for
+the visitor, and only three--the Cathedral, San Isidoro, and San
+Marcos." We proceeded to take these illustrious churches in order. The
+Leon Cathedral, closely analogous to the Gothic masterpieces of
+northern France, is far beyond all poor praises of mine. Now in
+process of repair and stripped of the garish shrines of modern
+worship, it may be enjoyed purely as architecture--a temple of high
+beauty. Let artists tell of its towers and finials, flying buttresses,
+gables, cornices, galleries, piers, facades. Yet one need not be an
+artist to delight in the glow of its great rose windows, or to spend
+fascinated hours poring over the chiselled story book of portals,
+stalls, and cloisters. Such inimitable glass, burning still with the
+fervors of the mediaeval faith! And such a world of divinity and
+humanity, even down to childish mischief, in those multitudinous
+carvings! The Passion scenes are repeated over and over, creation and
+judgment are there, the life, death, and ascension of the Virgin, hero
+legends, animal fables, and folk-lore. Gothic energy is abundantly
+manifest. St. George smites the dragon, St. Michael tramples the
+devil, Samson splits the lion's jaws, and Santiago, carved in ebony on
+a door in the mellow-hued old cloisters, is riding down the Moors
+with such contagious fury that the very tail of his horse is
+twisted into a ferocious quirk. On angel-guarded tombs pictures of
+ancient battle, murder, vengeance, are graven in the long-remembering
+stone. But marble birds peck at the marble fruit, the ivory peasant
+drives his pigs, the alabaster shepherd watches his flock, the lad
+leads his donkey, the monk feeds the poor at the abbey gates, and
+plump stone priests, stowed away in shadowy niches, make merry over
+the wine.
+
+  [Illustration: TOLEDO CATHEDRAL. DOOR OF LIONS]
+
+If we had revelled overmuch in the art values of the cathedral, San
+Isidoro administered a prompt corrective. This Romanesque church,
+dating from the beginning of the eleventh century and a forerunner of
+the Escorial in that it was founded by the first Fernando of Castile
+as a royal mausoleum, is excessively holy. Not merely are the bones of
+the patron saint kept on the high altar, but the Host is on constant
+exhibition there. Unaware of these especial sanctities, we were
+quietly walking toward the choir, when an angry clamor from behind
+caused us to turn, and there, stretching their heads out over the
+railing of an upper gallery, was a line of furious priests. In vain
+the sacristan strove to excuse us, "foreigners and ladies," who did
+not know that we were expected to fall upon our knees on first
+entering the door. We had been guilty of no irreverence beyond this
+omission, and even under the hail of priestly wrath did our best to
+withdraw correctly without turning our backs to the altar. But nothing
+would appease that scandalized row of gargoyles, whose violent
+rudeness seemed to us the greater desecration. Thus it was that we did
+not enter the frescoed chambers of the actual Panteon, said to be
+imposing yet, although the royal tombs were broken up by the French
+in 1808. Very wrong in the French, but unless the manners of San
+Isidoro's bodyguard have degenerated, the soldiers of Napoleon may
+have had their provocation.
+
+It was now high noon, and the market-place had poured all its peasants
+out upon the streets. Groups of them were lying at luncheon under the
+trees, passing the pigskin bottle of wine from mouth to mouth. Beggars
+were standing by and blessing them in return for scraps of the coarse
+and scanty fare. "May God repay! May the saints prosper thy harvest!"
+
+A woman riding home, sitting erect on the red-striped donkey-bag,
+handed a plum to her husband, who trudged beside her in gray linen
+trunks and green velveteen waistcoat, with a white square of cloth
+set, for ornament, into the middle of the back. He divided the fruit
+with a pleading cripple, who called after them as devoutly as a man
+with half a plum in his cheek well could, "May the Blessed Virgin ride
+forth with you and gladden all your way!"
+
+We had, because of the increasing heat, conjured up a carriage, a
+species of invalid stage-coach, and were therefore the envy of little
+schoolboys in blue pinafores. Their straw satchels bobbed on their
+backs as they gave chase to our clattering ark and clung to steps and
+door. This mode of locomotion did not save us time, for our coachman
+had domestic cares on his mind and drew up to bargain for a chicken,
+which finally mounted with a squall to the box seat; but in due
+Spanish season we stopped before the plateresque facade of San Marcos.
+
+This is a still unfinished convent, rich in artistic beauties and
+historic memories. Here, for instance, is a marvellously human head
+of St. Francis, a triumph of the polychrome sculpture, and here is the
+little cell where the poet Quevedo, "colossal genius of satire," was
+imprisoned for over three years by Philip IV, the patron of Velazquez.
+It is not so easy to cage a mocking-bird, though the satire-pencilled
+walls have been well whitewashed.
+
+But San Marcos was originally a hospital for pilgrims on the road to
+Compostela, and conch shells are the central ornamentation of arch and
+vault and frieze. We accepted the rebuke; we would loiter no more.
+Early that afternoon we took train for Coruna, after which some agency
+other than steam must transport us to the mediaeval city of St. James.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+PILGRIMS OF SAINT JAMES
+
+     "In Galice at Seint Jame, and at Coloigne,
+     She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye."
+                          --CHAUCER: _Canterbury Tales_.
+
+     "Pilgrimes and palmers plihten hem to-gederes
+     For to seche Seint Jame."
+                          --LANGLAND: _Piers Plowman_.
+
+     "I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone."
+                   --SHAKESPEARE: _All's Well that Ends Well_.
+
+
+From Leon to Coruna is a journey of some eighteen hours by rail.
+Degenerate pilgrims that we were, we had taken a first-class carriage
+reserved for ladies, not so comfortable as the average third-class
+carriage on an English road. We hoped for space, at least, and
+solitude, but people who choose to pry into out-of-the-way corners of
+Spain need not expect to find any slavish deference to rights of place
+and property. The conductor had planned to dine and sleep in this
+particular compartment, which was a shade cleaner than the rest, and
+removed his kit from the rack with natural disappointment. Why should
+ladies be going to Galicia? But the general first-class compartment,
+next to ours, was unoccupied, and he resignedly transferred his
+belongings thither. The numerous third-class carriages were crowded
+with raw recruits, who had all jumped down, boy fashion, on the Leon
+platforms, and came scrambling back at the starting bell in noisiest
+confusion. Just as the train was puffing out, a station official threw
+open our door with a smiling, "Only to the next stop, ladies!" and
+precipitated upon us three belated warriors. We groaned inly with dark
+foreboding, for third-class occupancy of a first-class carriage is apt
+to leave lively souvenirs behind. Our three young soldiers, each with
+his personal effects bundled up in an enormous red and yellow
+handkerchief, were of the rudest peasant type, hardly lifted above
+animal and clod. Only one was able to spell out anything of the
+newspaper we offered. He labored over a large-lettered advertisement
+with grimy thumb, twisting brows, and muttering lips, but soon gave it
+up in sheer exhaustion. The hulking fellow beyond him was continually
+on the point of spitting,--a regular Spanish pastime in travel; but,
+determined that the carriage should not suffer that offence, I kept
+strict watch on this chrysalis hero, and embarrassed him into stark
+paralysis with questions on the landscape whenever he was quite
+prepared to fire. The third conscript was a ruddy, fair-haired boy of
+seventeen, who had in rudimentary form the social instincts of a
+Spaniard, and in his intervals of blue-eyed staring at the tawdry
+splendors about him hammered our ears with some harsh dialect, his one
+theme being the indignities and hardships of a Spanish soldier's lot.
+Yet dull as they were, and ignorant of railway customs, they knew
+enough to prefer broad cushions, whose variety of stains did not
+trouble their enviable simplicity, to the rough and narrow benches of
+the overcrowded third-class carriages, and at the "first stop" they
+unanimously forgot to change. But they were not unkindly lads, and
+after I had explained to them a dozen times or so that my friend was
+suffering from a headache and needed to lie down, and had,
+furthermore, lawlessly suggested that they could make themselves
+equally comfortable in the other first-class carriage, which was not
+"reserved for ladies," they promised to leave us at the second
+station; but their slow peasant hands fumbled at the door so clumsily
+that the train was under way again before the latch had yielded. It
+was not until we had been fellow-travellers for two or three hours
+that they finally stumbled into the neighboring compartment. From this
+the conductor, who had been blind and deaf to past proceedings,
+promptly ejected them, having no mind to let them make acquaintance
+with his wine bottle, and our poor exiles cast reproachful glances at
+us as they were hustled off to their own place.
+
+We have sometimes talked enthusiastically of democracy, but we did not
+discuss such exalted subjects then. Indeed, we had enough to do in
+guarding our doors, often by frank exercise of muscle, from further
+intrusion, and in trying to provide ourselves with food and water. A
+struggling mob of soldier boys besieged the refreshment stalls at
+every station, and drained the jars of the water-venders long before
+these could arrive at the car windows. At last, by a union of silver
+and violence, we succeeded in gaining from an astounded little girl,
+who was racing after the departing carriages, all her stock in trade,
+even the great russet jar itself, with its treasure of cold spring
+water. The historian possesses a special genius for cooking over an
+alcohol lamp on a rocking mountain train, and having augmented our
+knapsack stores with scalded milk and knobby bread from a tavern near
+one of the depots, we lived like feudal barons "of our own" for the
+rest of that memorable journey.
+
+Reminders of the pilgrims were all along our route. Overflowing as
+Santiago's young knights were with martial and romantic spirit, when
+the brigands did not give their steel sufficient sport they would
+break lances for the love of ladies or on any other conceivable
+pretext. We passed the bridge of twenty arches, where ten companions
+in arms once posted themselves for ten successive days, and challenged
+to the tilt every cavalier who came that way in journey to the
+Compostela jubilee.
+
+All the afternoon we were climbing into the hill-country. The waste
+slopes were starred with purple clumps of heather, and crossed by
+light-footed maids, who balanced great bunches of bracken on their
+heads. The patches of green valley, walled in by those barren steeps,
+held each a few tumble-down old houses, while elsewhere we noticed
+human dwellings that seemed scarcely more than nests of mud plastered
+to the stone. Yet the soil appeared to be cultivated with the most
+patient thrift,--wheat and potatoes growing wherever wheat and
+potatoes might. The view became a bewildering medley of Scottish
+hills, Italian skies, and Gothic castles, with occasionally a tawny
+and fantastic rock from the Garden of the Gods. The city of Astorga,
+whose cathedral was founded, so the pilgrims used to say, by St. James
+in his missionary tour, greeted us from the midst of the flinty hills.
+These are the home of a singular clan known as the Maragatos. They
+wear a distinctive dress, marry only among themselves, and turn a
+sullen look upon their neighbors.
+
+As night came on, the road grew so rough that we had to cork our
+precious water-jar with a plump lemon. The historian was sleeping off
+her headache, except as I woke her at the stations to aid in the
+defence of our ignoble luxury. We remembered that queen of Portugal
+who made the pilgrimage to Compostela on foot, begging her way. In the
+close-packed third-class carriages it must have been a cramped and
+weary night, and we did not wonder that young socialists occasionally
+tried to raid our fortress. But we clung stoutly to the door-handles,
+lustily sounding our war cry of "Ladies only" in lieu of "Santiago,"
+and early in the small hours had the shamefaced pleasure of seeing the
+herd of drowsy conscripts, with their red and yellow bundles, driven
+into another train, where they were tumbled two or three deep, the
+under layer struggling and protesting. One little fellow, nearly
+smothered in the hurly-burly about the steps, cried out pitifully; but
+the conductor silenced him with angry sarcasm: "Dost mean to be a
+soldier, thou? Or shall we put thee in a sugar-bowl and send thee back
+to mamma?"
+
+There was less need of sentry duty after this, but the night was too
+beautiful for sleep. We were crossing the wild Asturian mountains, the
+Alps of Spain, and a full moon was pouring down white lustre on crag,
+cascade, and gorge. By these perilous ways had streamed the
+many-bannered pilgrim hosts,--men and women of all countries and all
+tongues seeking the Jerusalem of the West. Each nation had its own
+hymn to Santiago, and these, sung to the mingled music of bagpipes,
+timbrels, bugles, flutes, and harps, must have pealed out strangely on
+many a silver night. The poor went begging of the rich, and often a
+mounted crusader cast his purse of broad gold pieces on the heather,
+trusting Santiago and his own good sword to see him through. Up and
+down these sheer ravines stumbled the blind and lame, sure of
+healing if only they could reach the shrine. Deaf and dumb went in the
+pilgrim ranks, the mad, the broken-hearted, the sin-oppressed; only
+the troop of lepers held apart. Some of those foot-sore wayfarers,
+most likely the raggedest of all, carried a secret treasure for the
+saint. Some staggered under penitential weights of lead and stone, and
+others bore loads of bars and fetters in token of captivity from which
+St. James had set them free.
+
+  [Illustration: ST. PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT]
+
+But these pathetic shapes no longer peopled the moonlight. Since it
+was the nineteenth century, a first-class passenger might as well lie
+down and watch the gracious progress of the moon across the heavens,--
+
+     "Oft, as if her head she bowed,
+     Stooping through a fleecy cloud."
+
+But the clouds perversely made of themselves wayside crosses, urns,
+cathedral towers; and just as one sky-creature, "backed like a weasel"
+but with the face of Santiago, began to puff a monstrous cigarette, I
+roused my dozing senses and discovered that we were entering Lugo, the
+capital of Galicia, and once, under Roman rule, of all Spain.
+
+This city of tumultuous history, stormed by one wild race after
+another, and twice sacked in our own century, first by the French and
+then by the Carlists, lay very peacefully under the white dawn. While
+the chivalrous Spanish sun rose unobtrusively, so as not to divert
+attention from the fading graces of the moon, the historian made
+sustaining coffee, and we tried to look as if we liked Galicia. This
+far northwestern province is the Boeotia of Spain; its stupid,
+patient peasantry are the butt of all the Peninsula, and to be called
+a Gallego is to be called a fool. The country, as we saw it from the
+train, was broken and hilly, but the Alpine majesty of Asturias was
+gone. In the misty drizzle of rain, which soon hushed the pipings of
+the birds, all the region looked wretchedly poor. It was a wooded,
+watered, well-tilled land, with tufts of heather brightly fringing
+every bank; but the houses were mere cabins, where great, gaunt,
+dark-colored pigs pushed in and out among bedraggled hens and
+half-clad children. Women were working in the fields by five o'clock
+in the morning, their saffron and carmine kerchiefs twisted into horns
+above the forehead. Women were serving as porters at the stations,
+carrying heavy trunks and loads of valises on their heads. Women were
+driving the plough, swinging the pickaxe in the quarries, mending the
+railway tracks. Short, stout, vigorous brownies they were, and most of
+them looked old.
+
+It was mid-forenoon when we reached Coruna, the seaport whence sailed
+the Invincible Armada. We had meant to rest there for the afternoon
+and night before undertaking the forty-mile drive to Santiago, but the
+hotel was so filthy that, tired as we were, there was nothing for it
+but to go on. Tarrying only for bath and breakfast, we took our places
+in a carriage which, setting out at one, promised to bring us into
+Santiago in time for the eight o'clock dinner.
+
+This conveyance was a species of narrow omnibus, which an Andalusian,
+an Englishman, a son of Compostela returning home after a long sojourn
+in foreign parts, his young wife of Jewish features, and our weary
+selves filled to overflowing. Our Jehu had agreed to transport the six
+of us, with our effects, for the sum of sixteen dollars; but deep was
+our disgust when he piled our handbags, shawl straps, and all our
+lesser properties in upon our wedged and helpless forms, and crammed
+six rough Gallegos, with a reeling load of trunks and boxes, on the
+roof. Remonstrance would be futile. The places in the regular
+diligence were not only taken for the afternoon but engaged for
+several days ahead, and carriages are rare birds in Galicia. The
+Spanish gentlemen merely shrugged their shoulders, the Englishman had
+but that morning landed in Spain and could not speak a word of the
+vernacular, and feminine protest was clearly out of order. The four
+puny horses took the top-heavy vehicle at a rattling pace down the
+granite-paved streets of Coruna, but hardly were we under way when our
+griefs began.
+
+On our arrival that forenoon, a fluent porter had over-persuaded us to
+leave our trunk at the station, letting him retain the check in order
+to have the baggage ready for us when we should pass the depot _en
+route_ for Santiago. We had been absent scarcely three hours, but
+meanwhile the trunk had disappeared. A dozen tatterdemalions ran
+hither and thither, making as much noise as possible, all the top
+fares shouted contradictory suggestions, and our porter, heaping
+Ossa-Pelions of execration upon the (absent) railroad officials,
+declared that they in their most reprobate stupidity had started the
+trunk on that eighteen-hour journey back to Leon. They were dolts and
+asses, the sons of imbecile mothers; but we had only to leave the
+check with him, and in the course of an indefinite number of
+"to-morrows" he would recover our property. We had grown sadder and
+wiser during the last five minutes, however, and insisted on taking
+that soiled inch of paper into our own keeping. At this the porter
+flew into a Spanish rage, flung back his fee into my lap, and so
+eloquently expressed himself that we left Coruna with stinging ears.
+
+It was the historian's trunk, stored with supplies for the camera, as
+well as with sundry alleviations of our pilgrim lot, but she put it in
+the category of spilled milk, and turned with heroic cheerfulness to
+enjoy the scenery. The horses had now drooped into the snail's pace
+which they consistently maintained through the rest of their long,
+uphill way, for the city of the Apostle stands on a high plateau. As
+we mounted more and more, Coruna, lying between bay and sea, still
+shone clear across the widening reach of smiling landscape. Maize and
+vines were everywhere. So were peasants, who trudged along in family
+troops toward Compostela. But whether afoot or astride donkeys of
+antique countenance, they could always outstrip our lumbering coach,
+and we were an easy prey for the hordes of childish bandits who chase
+vehicles for miles along the pilgrim road, shrieking for pennies in
+the name of Santiago.
+
+About two leagues out of Coruna we did pass something,--a group
+composed of a young Gallego and the most diminutive of donkeys. The
+peasant, walking beside his beast, was trying to balance across its
+back an object unwonted to those wilds.
+
+"Strange to see a steamer trunk here!" I remarked, turning to the
+historian; but she was already leaning out from the window, inspecting
+that label-speckled box with an eagle gaze.
+
+"It's mine!" she exclaimed, and in a twinkling had startled the driver
+into pulling up his horses, had leapt from the coach, and was running
+after the peasant, who, for his part, swerving abruptly from the main
+road, urged his panting donkey up a steep lane. Nobody believed her.
+Even I, her fellow-pilgrim, thought her wits were addling with our
+penitential fasts and vigils, and did not attempt to join in so mad a
+chase. As for the scandalized Spaniards, inside and out, they shouted
+angrily that the thing was impossible and the senora was to come back.
+The coachman roared loudest of all. But on she dashed, ran down her
+man, and bade him, in inspired Galician, bring that trunk to the
+omnibus at once. He scratched his head, smiled a child's innocent and
+trustful smile, and, like a true Gallego, did as he was told. By this
+time masculine curiosity had been too much for the driver and most of
+the fares, and they had scrambled after, so that the few of us who
+kept guard by the carriage presently beheld an imposing procession
+advancing along the road, consisting of a Galician peasant with a
+steamer trunk upon his head, a group of crestfallen Spaniards, and a
+Yankee lady, slightly flushed, attended by an applauding Englishman.
+
+Beyond a doubt it was her trunk. Her name was there, a New York hotel
+mark, which she had tried to obliterate with a blot of Leon ink, and
+the number corresponding to the number of our check. "By Jove!" said
+the Englishman. As for the peasant, he said even less, but in some way
+gave us to understand that he was taking the trunk to a gentleman from
+Madrid. Thinking that there might have been a confusion of checks in
+the station, we gave this childlike native a _peseta_ and a card with
+our Santiago address in case "the Madrid gentleman" should suspect us
+of highway robbery. Our fellow-passengers took the tale to Santiago,
+however; it made a graphic column in the local paper, and none of the
+several Spaniards who spoke to us of the matter there doubted that the
+trunk was stolen by collusion between the porter and the peasant.
+
+Our next adventure was more startling yet. The coachman had been
+heard, at intervals, vehemently expostulating with a roof passenger
+who wanted to get down. "Man alive! By the staff of Santiago! By your
+mother's head! By the Virgin of the Pillar!" Whether the malcontent
+had taken too much wine, whether he was under legal arrest, whether it
+was merely a crossing of whims, we could not learn from any of the
+impassioned actors in the drama; but, apparently, he found his
+opportunity to slip unnoticed off the coach. For suddenly the driver
+screamed to his horses, and, like a bolt from the blue, a handsome,
+athletic fellow leapt to the ground and rushed back along the dusty
+road, brandishing clenched fists and stamping his feet in frenzy. In
+mid-career he paused, struck a stage attitude, tore open his pink
+shirt, gasped, and shook with rage. "Irving isn't in it," quoth the
+Englishman. Then appeared, lurking by the roadside, a slouchy youth,
+on whom our tragic hero sprang like a tiger, threw him down, and stood
+panting over him with a gesture as if to stab. An instant later he had
+seized his victim by the collar, dragged him up, and was running him
+back to the coach. "You hurt me," wailed the truant, "and I don't want
+to go." But go he must, being bundled back in short order on the roof,
+where harmony seemed to be immediately restored. While the men were
+struggling, a lordly old peasant, stalking by, surveyed them with a
+peasant's high disdain. We had already noted the Irish look of the
+Galicians, but this magnificent patriarch, with dark green waistcoat
+over a light green shirt, old gold knickerbockers and crushed
+strawberry hose, had as Welsh a face, dark and clean-cut, as Snowdon
+ever saw.
+
+Long sunset shadows lay across the hills; we had shared with our
+companions our slight stores of sweet chocolate, bread, and wine, and
+still we were not halfway to Santiago. It was nine o'clock before our
+groaning equipage drew up at a wretched little inn, incredibly foul,
+where it was necessary to bait the exhausted horses. Mine host
+welcomed the party with pensive dignity, and served us, in the midst
+of all that squalor, with the manners of a melancholy count. Shutting
+eyes and noses as far as we could, and blessing eggs for shells and
+fruit for rind, we ate and gathered strength to bear what St. James
+might yet have in store for us.
+
+The diligence had resumed its weary jog; we were all more or less
+asleep, unconsciously using, in our crowded estate, one another as
+pillows, when an uproar from the box and a wild lurch of the coach
+brought us promptly to our waking senses. One of the wheel horses was
+down, and the others, frightened by the dragging harness, were rearing
+and plunging. Out we tumbled into the misty night, wondering if we
+were destined, after all, to foot it to Compostela in proper pilgrim
+fashion. The poor beast was mad with terror, and his struggles soon
+brought his mate to the ground beside him. The coachman, so pompous
+and dictatorial at the outset, stood helplessly in the road, at a safe
+distance, wringing his hands and crying like a baby: "Alas, poor me!
+Poor little me! O holy Virgin! Santiago!" The top fares, who had made
+good speed to _terra firma_, were wailing in unison and shrieking
+senseless counsels. "Kill thou the horse! Kill thou the horse!" one of
+them chanted like a Keltic dirge. The coachman supplied the antiphon:
+"Kill not my horse! Kill not my horse! _Ave Maria!_ Poor little me!"
+"Fools! Sit on his head," vociferated the Englishman in his vain
+vernacular. The horses seemed to have as many legs as centipedes,
+kicking all at once. The coach was toppling, the luggage pitching, and
+catastrophe appeared inevitable, when Santiago, such an excellent
+horseman himself, inspired one of the roof passengers to unbuckle a
+few straps. The effect was magical. First one nag, and then the other,
+struggled to its feet; the coachman sobbed anew, this time for joy;
+the Spanish gentlemen, who had been watching the scene with
+imperturbable passivity, crawled back into the diligence, the silent
+wife followed with the heavy bag which her husband had let her carry
+all the way, and the Anglo-Saxon contingent walked on ahead for half
+an hour to give the spent horses what little relief we might.
+
+The clocks were striking two when we reached the gates of the sacred
+city, where fresh hindrance met us. The customs officials were on the
+alert. Who were we that would creep into Compostela de Santiago under
+cover of night, in an irregular conveyance piled high with trunks and
+boxes? Smugglers, beyond a doubt! But they would teach us a thing or
+two. We might wait outside till morning.
+
+  [Illustration: MAIDS OF HONOR]
+
+Delighted boys from a peasant camp beyond the walls ran up to jeer at
+our predicament. Our coachman, reverting to his dolorous chant,
+appealed to all the saints. The top fares shrilled in on the chorus;
+the Spanish gentlemen lighted cigarettes, and after some twenty
+minutes of dramatic altercation, a soldier sprang on our top step and
+mounted guard, while the coach rattled through the gates and on to
+the _aduana_. Here we were deposited, bag and baggage, on the
+pavement, and a drowsy, half-clad old dignitary was brought forth to
+look at us. The coachman, all his social graces restored,
+imaginatively presented the three Anglo-Saxons as a French party
+travelling for pleasure. "But what am I to do with them?" groaned the
+dignitary, and went back to bed. An appalling group of _serenos_, in
+slouch hats and long black capes, with lanterns and with staffs topped
+by steel axes, escorted us into a sort of luggage room, and told us to
+sit down on benches. We sat on them for half an hour, which seemed to
+satisfy the ends of justice, for then the _serenos_ gave place to
+porters, who said they would bring us our property, which nobody had
+examined or noticed in the slightest, after daybreak, and would now
+show us the way to our hotel. Our farewell to the coachman, who came
+beaming up to shake hands and receive thanks, was cold.
+
+We had engaged rooms by letter a week in advance, but they had been
+surrendered to earlier arrivals, and we were conducted to a private
+house next door to the hotel. After the delays incident to waking an
+entire family, we were taken into a large, untidy room, furnished with
+dining table, sewing machine, and a half dozen decrepit chairs. There
+was no water and no sign of toilet apparatus, but in an adjoining dark
+closet were two narrow cots, from which the four daughters of the
+house had just been routed. Of those beds which these sleepy children
+were then, with unruffled sweetness and cheeriness, making ready for
+us, the less said the better. Our indoor hours in Compostela, an
+incessant battle against dirt, bad smells, and a most instructive
+variety of vermin, were a penance that must have met all pilgrim
+requirements. And yet these people spared no pains to make us
+comfortable, so far as they understood comfort. At our slightest call,
+were it only for a match, in would troop the mother, four daughters,
+maid, dog, and cat, with any of the neighbors who might be visiting,
+all eager to be of service. The girls were little models of sunny
+courtesy, and would have been as pretty of face as they were charming
+in manner, had not skin diseases and eye diseases told the tale of the
+hideously unsanitary conditions in which their young lives had been
+passed.
+
+But we had come to the festival of Santiago, and it was worth its
+price.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+THE BUILDING OF A SHRINE
+
+(A historical chapter, which should be skipped.)
+
+
+That most Spanish of Spaniards, Alarcon, is pleased in one of his
+roguish sketches to depict the waywardness of a certain poetaster.
+"Alonso Alonso was happy because he was thinking of many sad
+things,--of the past centuries, vanished like smoke, ... of the little
+span of life and of the absurdities with which it is filled, of the
+folly of wisdom, of the nothingness of ambition, of all this comedy,
+in short, which is played upon the earth."
+
+Alonso Alonso would be in his very element in Santiago de Compostela.
+The "unsubstantial pageant faded" of the mediaeval world is more than
+memory there. It is a ghost that walks at certain seasons, notably
+from the twentieth to the twenty-eighth of July. The story of the
+birth, growth, and passing of that once so potent shrine, the
+Jerusalem of the West, is too significant for oblivion.
+
+The corner-stone of the strange history is priestly legend. The
+Apostle James the Greater, so runs the tale, after preaching in
+Damascus and along the Mediterranean coast, came in a Greek ship to
+Galicia, then under Roman rule, and proclaimed the gospel in its
+capital city, Iria-Flavia. Here the Virgin appeared to him, veiled,
+like the mother of AEneas, in a cloud, and bade him build a church.
+This he did, putting a bishop in charge, and then pursued his mission,
+not only in the remote parts of Galicia, but in Aragon, Castile, and
+Andalusia. At Saragossa the Virgin again flashed upon his sight. She
+was poised, this time, on a marble pillar, which she left behind her
+to become, what it is to-day, the most sacred object in all Spain. A
+chip of this _columna immobilis_ is one of the treasures of Toledo.
+The cathedral of the _Virgen del Pilar_,--affectionately known as
+Pilarica,--which James then founded at Saragossa, is still a popular
+goal of pilgrimage, the marble of the holy column being hollowed, at
+one unshielded spot, by countless millions of kisses. The Apostle, on
+his return to Jerusalem after seven years in Spain, was beheaded by
+Herod. Loyal disciples recovered the body and set sail with it for the
+Spanish coast. Off Portugal occurred the pointless "miracle of the
+shells." A gentleman was riding on the shore, when all at once his
+horse, refusing to obey the bit, leapt into the sea, walking on the
+crests of the waves toward the boat. Steed and rider suddenly sank,
+but promptly rose again, all crusted over with shells, which have been
+ever since regarded as the emblem of St. James in particular, and of
+pilgrim folk in general.
+
+     "How should I your true love know
+       From another one?
+     By his cockle hat and staff
+       And his sandal shoon."
+
+The Santiago "cockle," which thus, as a general pilgrim symbol,
+outstripped the keys of Rome and the cross of Jerusalem, is otherwise
+accounted for by a story that the body of St. James was borne overseas
+to Galicia in a shell of miraculous size, but this is not the version
+that was told us at the shrine.
+
+The two disciples, Theodore and Athanasius, temporarily interred their
+master in Padron, two leagues from Iria, until they should have
+obtained permission from the Roman dame who governed that region to
+allow St. James the choice of a resting-place. Her pagan heart was
+moved to graciousness, and she lent the disciples an ox-cart, in which
+they placed the body, leaving the beasts free to take the Apostle's
+course. It is hardly miraculous that, under the circumstances, Lady
+Lupa's oxen plodded straight back to Iria and came to a stop before
+her summer villa. Since this was so clearly indicated as the choice of
+the saint, she could do no less than put her house at his disposal. In
+the villa was a chapel to the war-god Janus, but when the body of
+Santiago was brought within the doors, this heathen image fell with a
+crash into a hundred fragments. Here the saint abode, guarded by his
+faithful disciples, until, in process of time, they slept beside him.
+The villa had been transformed into a little church, so little that,
+when the Imperial persecutions stormed over the Spanish provinces, the
+worshippers hid it under heaps of turf and tangles of brier bushes.
+Those early Christians of Iria were slain or scattered, and the burial
+place of St. James was forgotten of all the world.
+
+In the seventh century, a rumor went abroad that the Apostle James had
+preached the gospel in Spain. The legend grew until, in the year 813,
+a Galician anchorite beheld from the mouth of his cavern a brilliant
+star, which shone persistently above a certain bramble-wood in the
+outskirts of Iria. Moving lights, as of processional tapers, twinkled
+through the matted screen of shrubbery, and solemn chants arose from
+the very heart of the boscage. Word of this mystery came to the
+bishop, who saw with his own eyes "the glow of many candles through
+the shadows of the night." After three days of fasting, he led all the
+villagers in procession to the thicket which had grown up, a
+protecting hedge, about the ruins of the holy house. The three graves
+were found intact, and on opening the chief of these the bishop looked
+upon the body of St. James, as was proven not only by severed head and
+pilgrim staff, but by a Latin scroll. The swiftest horsemen of Galicia
+bore the glorious tidings to the court of the king, that most
+Christian monarch, Alfonso II, "very Catholic, a great almsgiver,
+defender of the Faith." So loved of heaven was this pious king, that
+once, when he had collected a treasure of gold and precious stones for
+the making of a cross, two angels, disguised as pilgrims, undertook
+the work. When, after a few hours, Alfonso came softly to the forge to
+make sure of their honesty and skill, no artisans were there, but from
+an exquisitely fashioned cross streamed a celestial glory. So devout a
+king, on hearing the great tidings from Galicia, lost no time in
+despatching couriers to his bishops and grandees, and all the pomp and
+pride of Spain, headed by majesty itself, flocked to the far-off
+hamlet beyond the Asturian mountains to adore the relics of Santiago.
+
+Now began grand doings in Iria, known henceforth as the Field of the
+Star, _Campus Stellae_, or Compostela. Alfonso had a church of stone
+and clay built above the sepulchre, and endowed it with an estate of
+three square miles. The Pope announced the discovery to Christendom. A
+community of twelve monks, with a presiding abbot, was installed at
+Compostela to say masses before the shrine. For these beginnings of
+homage the Apostle made a munificent return. A wild people, living in
+a wild land at a wild time, these Spaniards of the Middle Ages were
+shaped and swayed by two sovereign impulses, piety and patriotism.
+These two were practically one, for patriotism meant the expulsion of
+the Moor, and piety, Cross above Koran. It was a life-and-death
+struggle. The dispossessed Christians, beaten back from Andalusia and
+Castile to the fastnesses of the northern mountains, were fighting
+against fearful odds. They felt sore need of a leader, for although,
+when their ranks were wavering, the Virgin had sometimes appeared to
+cheer them on, hers, after all, was but a woman's arm. It was in the
+battle of Clavijo, 846, that Santiago first flashed into view, an
+invincible champion of the cross.
+
+Rameiro, successor to Alfonso II, had taken the field against the
+terrible Abderrahman of Cordova, who had already overrun Valencia and
+Barcelona and was demanding from Galicia a yearly tribute of one
+hundred maidens. This exceedingly Moorish tax, which now amuses Madrid
+as a rattling farce in the summer theatre of the _Buen Retiro_, was no
+jesting matter then. Not only the most famous warriors of the realm,
+Bernardo del Carpio in their van, but shepherds and ploughmen,
+priests, monks, even bishops, flocked to the royal standard.
+
+     "A cry went through the mountains when the proud Moor drew near,
+     And trooping to Rameiro came every Christian spear;
+     The blessed Saint Iago, they called upon his name:--
+     That day began our freedom, and wiped away our shame."
+
+The hosts of Cross and Crescent met in battle-shock near Logrono. Only
+nightfall saved the Christians from utter rout, but in those dark
+hours of their respite the apparition of Santiago bent above their
+sleeping king. "Fear not, Rameiro," said the august lips. "The enemy,
+master of the field, hems you in on every side, but God fights in your
+ranks." At sunrise, in the very moment when the Moslem host was bowed
+in prayer, the Christians, scandalized at the spectacle, charged in
+orthodox fury. Their onset was led by an unknown knight, gleaming in
+splendid panoply of war. Far in advance, his left hand waving a snowy
+banner stamped with a crimson cross, he spurred his fierce white horse
+full on the infidel army. His brandished sword "hurled lightning
+against the half-moon." At his every sweeping stroke, turbaned heads
+rolled off by scores to be trampled, as turbaned heads deserve, under
+the hoofs of that snorting steed. The Son of Thunder had found his
+function, which was nothing less than to inspirit the Reconquest.
+Henceforth he could always be counted on to lead a desperate assault,
+and "_Santiago y Cierra Espana!_" was the battle-cry of every
+hard-fought field. So late as 1212, at the crucial contest of Las
+Navas de Tolosa, the "Captain of the Spaniards" saved the day.
+
+Whatever may be thought of such bloody prowess on the part of Christ's
+disciple, the fisherman of Galilee, he could not have taken, in that
+stormy age, a surer course to make himself respected. All Europe
+sprang to do honor to a saint who could fight like that. Charlemagne,
+guided by the Milky Way, visited the shrine, if the famous old Codex
+Calixtinus may be believed, with its convincing print of the
+Apostle sitting upright in his coffin and pointing the great Karl to
+the starry trail. In process of time the Gran Capitan came bustling
+from Granada. The king of Jerusalem did not find the road too long,
+nor did the Pope of Rome count it too arduous. England sent her first
+royal Edward, and France more than one royal Louis. Counts and dukes,
+lords and barons, rode hundreds of miles to Compostela, at the head of
+feudal bands which sometimes clashed by the way. Saints of every clime
+and temper made the glorious pilgrimage,--Gregory, Bridget, Bernard,
+Francis of Assisi. To the shrine of St. James came the Cid in radiant
+youth to keep the vigil of arms and receive the honors of knighthood,
+and again, mounted on his peerless Bavieca, to give thanks for victory
+over the five Moorish kings. It was on this second journey that he
+succored the leper, inviting him, with heroic disdain of hygiene, to
+be his bedfellow "in a great couch with linen very clean and costly."
+
+  [Illustration: DANCING THE SEVILLANA]
+
+Even in the ninth century such multitudes visited the sepulchre that a
+society of hidalgos was formed to guard the pilgrims from bandits
+along that savage route, serve them as money-changers in Compostela,
+and in all possible ways protect them from robbery and ill-usage. This
+brotherhood gave birth to the famous Order of Santiago, whose two vows
+were to defend the pilgrims and fight the Mussulmans. These red-cross
+knights were as devout as they were valiant, "lambs at the sound of
+the church-bells and lions at the call of the trumpet." Kings and
+popes gave liberally to aid their work. Roads were cut through Spain
+and France, even Italy and Germany, "to Santiago." Forests were
+cleared, morasses drained, bridges built, and rest-houses instituted,
+as San Marcos at Leon and the celebrated hostelry of Roncesvalles.
+Compostela had become a populous city, but a city of inns, hospitals,
+and all variety of conventual and religious establishments. Even
+to-day it can count nearly three hundred altars. In the ninth century
+the modest church of Alfonso II was replaced by an ornate edifice rich
+in treasures, but in the gloomy tenth century, when Christian energies
+were arrested by the dread expectation of the end of the world, the
+Moors overran Galicia and laid the holy city waste. The Moslem
+general, Almanzor, had meant to shatter the urn of Santiago, but when
+he entered Compostela with his triumphant troops, he found only one
+defender there, an aged monk sitting silent on the Apostle's tomb. The
+magnanimous Moor did not molest him, nor the ashes his feebleness
+guarded better than strength, but took abundant booty. When Almanzor
+marched to the south again, four thousand Galician captives bore on
+their shoulders the treasures of the Apostle, even the church-bells
+and sculptured doors, to adorn the mosque of Cordova. The fresh
+courage of the eleventh century began the great Romanesque cathedral
+of Santiago. Donations poured in from all over Europe. Pilgrims came
+bowed under the weight of marble and granite blocks for the fabric.
+Young and old, men and women, beggars and peasants, princes and
+prelates, had a hand in the building, cutting short their prayers to
+mix mortar and hew stone. Artists from far-off lands, who had come on
+pilgrimage, lingered for years, often for lifetimes, in Compostela,
+making beautiful the dwelling of the saint.
+
+The great epoch of Santiago was the twelfth century, when there
+succeeded to the bishopric the able and ambitious Diego Gelmirez, who
+resolved that Compostela should be recognized as the religious centre
+of Spain, and be joined with Jerusalem and Rome in a trinity of the
+supreme shrines of Christendom. He was a man of masterly resource,
+persistence, pluck. Not too scrupulous for success, he found all means
+good that made toward the accomplishment of his one splendid dream.
+The clergy of Santiago, who had hitherto borne but dubious repute, he
+subjected to instruction and to discipline, calling learned priests
+from France to tutor them, and sending his own, as they developed
+promise, to sojourn in foreign monasteries. He zealously promoted the
+work on the cathedral, rearing arches proud as his aspiration, and
+watch-towers strong as his will. He invested the sacred ceremonies,
+especially the ecclesiastical processions, with extraordinary pomp, so
+that the figure of Alfonso VI, conqueror of Toledo, advancing through
+the basilica in such a solemn progress, appeared less imposing than
+the bishop himself, crowned with white mitre, sceptred with ivory
+staff, and treading in his gold-embroidered sandals upon the broad
+stones that pave the church as if on an imperial palace floor.
+Gelmirez was indefatigable, too, in building up the city. Eager to
+swell the flood of pilgrimage, he founded in Compostela, already a
+cluster of shrines and hostelries, still more churches, inns, asylums,
+hospitals, together with convents, libraries, schools, and all other
+recognized citadels of culture. He fought pestilence and dirt,
+introducing an excellent water supply, and promoting, so far as he
+knew how, decent and sanitary living. He was even a patron of
+agriculture, bringing home from his foreign journeys, which took him
+as far as Rome, packets of new seed slipped in among parcels of jewels
+and no less precious budgets of saintly molars and knuckle-bones. But
+these missions abroad, having always for chief object the pressing of
+his petition upon the Holy See, involved costly presents to
+influential prelates, especially the red-capped cardinals. The revenue
+for such bribes he wrung from the Galician peasantry, who gave him a
+measure of hate with every measure of grain. Gelmirez had so many uses
+for money that no wonder his taxes cut down to the quick. The lavish
+offerings sent by sea to the shrine of Santiago, ruby-crusted
+crucifixes of pure gold, silver reliquaries sparkling with emeralds
+and jacinths, pontifical vestments of richest tissue and of rarest
+artistry, well-chased vessels of onyx, pearl, and jasper, all that
+constant influx of glistening tribute from the length and breadth of
+Christendom, had drawn Moorish pirates to the Galician waters. To
+guard the treasure-ships, repel the infidels, and, incidentally,
+return tit for tat by plundering their galleys, the warrior bishop
+equipped a formidable fleet, and kept it on patrol off the coast,--a
+strange development from the little fishing-boat whence James and John
+trailed nets in the lake of Galilee.
+
+The audacity of Gelmirez reached its height in his struggle with the
+Queen Regent, Urraca of unlovely memory, for the control of the child
+king, Alfonso VII. This boy was the grandson of Alfonso VI, "Emperor
+of Spain," who survived all his legitimate children except Urraca. The
+father of the little Alfonso, Count Raymond of Burgundy, was dead, and
+Urraca had taken a second husband, Alfonso the Battle-maker. The
+situation was complicated. The Battle-maker wore the crowns of Aragon
+and Navarre, Urraca was queen of Leon and Castile, while the child, by
+his grandfather's will, inherited the lordship of Galicia. The Bishop
+of Santiago, who baptized the baby, had strenuously opposed Urraca's
+second marriage. As that lady had, nevertheless, gone her own wilful
+way, setting at naught the bishop's remonstrance and inciting Galicia
+to revolt against his tyranny, Gelmirez had kidnapped the royal child,
+a puzzled little majesty of four summers, and solemnly crowned and
+anointed him before the High Altar of St. James, declaring himself the
+protector of the young sovereign. Urraca soon wearied of her Aragonese
+bridegroom, and, casting him off, took up arms to defend her
+territories against his invasion. The powerful bishop came to her aid
+with men and money, but exacted in exchange an oath of faithful
+friendship, which Urraca gave and broke and gave again. Meanwhile the
+popular hatred swelled so high against Gelmirez that an open
+insurrection, in which many of his own clergy took part, drove him and
+the Queen to seek refuge in one of the cathedral towers, while the
+rebels burned and pillaged in the church below. The bishop barely
+escaped with his life, fleeing in disguise from Compostela; but soon
+the baffled conspirators saw him at his post again, punishing,
+pardoning, rebuilding--as indomitable as St. James himself. The
+election of Diego's friend, Calixtus II, to the papacy, gave him his
+supreme opportunity. Money was the prime requisite, and Gelmirez, not
+for the first nor second time, borrowed of the Apostle, selling
+treasures from the sacristy. The sums so raised were carried to the
+Pope, across the bandit-peopled mountains, by a canon of Santiago
+masquerading as a beggar, and by a trusty group of particularly ragged
+pilgrims. This proof of ecclesiastical ripeness overcame all papal
+scruples, and Calixtus, despite the clamor of enemies and rivals,
+raised Santiago to the coveted archbishopric.
+
+The first half of his great purpose effected, Gelmirez strove with
+renewed energy to wrest from Toledo the primacy of Spain. He fortified
+Galicia, hurled his fleet against Moorish and English pirates, built
+himself an archiepiscopal palace worthy of his hard-won dignities,
+stole from Portugal the skeletons of four saints to enhance the
+potency of Santiago, and made much of the skull of the Apostle James
+the Less, which Urraca had presented in one of her fits of amity. But
+this time the reverend robber was not destined to success. The
+Archbishop of Toledo formed a powerful party against him, Calixtus
+died, even the king, whom Gelmirez had armed knight in the cathedral
+of Santiago and had crowned a second time at Leon, grew restive under
+the dictation of his old tutor. The smouldering hatred of Galicia
+again flamed out. The aged archbishop once more had to see his church
+polluted, its treasures plundered, its marvels of carved work, stained
+glass, and gold-threaded vestments spoiled and wasted by that
+senseless rabble which had twisted out from under his heavy foot.
+Faint and bleeding from a wound in his head, too white a head, for all
+its pride, to be battered with stones, Gelmirez had almost fallen a
+victim to the mob, when two of his canons snatched him back to the
+refuge of the High Altar, barring the iron-latticed doors of the
+_Capilla Major_ against those savage sheep of his pasture. The outrage
+was so flagrant that, for very shame, pope and king, though both had
+accepted the bribes of his enemies, responded to his appeal, and
+assisted him to resume that rigorous sway which lasted, all told, for
+something like forty years.
+
+Such was the man and such the process that made the shrine of Santiago
+the third in rank of mediaeval Christendom. Under the rule of Gelmirez
+Compostela had become one of the principal cities of the Peninsula, a
+seat of arts and sciences where Spanish nobles were proud to build
+them palaces and to educate their sons. The mighty influx of pilgrims,
+which went on without abatement century after century, nearly
+twenty-five hundred licenses being granted, in the single year 1434,
+to cockle-hatted visitors from England alone, filled the place with
+business. Inn-keepers, physicians, money-changers, merchants were in
+flourishing estate, and a number of special industries developed. One
+street was taken up by booths for the sale of polished shells. Another
+bears still the name of the jet-workers, whose rosaries, crucifixes,
+stars, gourds, staffs, and amulets were in high demand. Souvenirs of
+Santiago, little crosses delicately cut and chased, mimic churches,
+towers, shrines gave employ to scores of artists in silver and
+mother-of-pearl. The enormous revenue from the sale of phials of
+healing oil and from the consecrated candles must needs go to the
+Apostle, but the cunning craftsmen who loaded their stalls with
+love-charms had a well-nigh equal patronage.
+
+The finished cathedral was consecrated in 1211, and in 1236 the royal
+saint, Fernando III, sent to Compostela a train of Mohammedan
+captives, bringing back on their shoulders the bells Almanzor had
+taken. These had been hung, inverted, in the beautiful mosque of
+Cordova to serve as lamps for the infidel worship, but at last St.
+James had his own again. Thus Santiago trampled on the Moors, and his
+ashes, or what had passed for his ashes, slept in peace, with nothing
+to do but work miracles on blind and crippled pilgrims, until, in
+1589, an army of English heretics, led by the horrible Drake, landed
+in Galicia. These Lutheran dogs were not worthy of a miracle. The
+archbishop and his canons, with the enemy hammering on the gates of
+Compostela, hastily took up and reburied the three coffins of the
+original shrine, so secretly that they could not be found again. In
+1879, however, a miscellany of brittle bits of bone was brought to
+light by a party of determined seekers, and these repulsive fragments,
+after scientific analysis conducted in an ecclesiastical spirit, were
+declared to be portions of three skeletons which might be ages old.
+Leo XIII clenched the matter by "authenticating" one of them,
+apparently chosen at random, as the body of Santiago. But although for
+us of the perverse sects, the contents of that magnificent silver
+casket, the centre of the Santiago faith, could arouse no thrill of
+worship, the Pilgrim City itself and its storied, strange cathedral
+were the most impressive sights of Spain.
+
+  [Illustration: WITHIN THE CLOISTER]
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+THE SON OF THUNDER
+
+     "Thou shield of that faith which in Spain we revere,
+     Thou scourge of each foeman who dares to draw near,
+     Whom the Son of that God who the elements tames
+     Called child of the thunder, immortal Saint James."
+                --_Hymn to Santiago_, in George Borrow's translation.
+
+
+Fatigues of the journey and discomforts of our lodging melted from
+memory like shadows of the night when we found ourselves, on the
+morning of July twenty-fourth, before that rich, dark mass of fretted
+granite, a majestic church standing solitary in the midst of spreading
+_plazas_. These are surrounded by stately buildings, the
+archiepiscopal palace with its memories of Gelmirez, the royal
+hospital founded by Ferdinand and Isabella for the succor of weary
+pilgrims, ancient colleges with sculptured facades, marvellous old
+convents whose holy fathers were long since driven out by royal decree
+into hungry, homesick exile, and the columned city hall with its
+frontal relief of the battle of Clavijo and its crowning statue of St.
+James. The great, paved squares, the magnificent stairways and deeply
+recessed portals were aglow with all Galicia. Peasants in gala dress,
+bright as tropic birds, stood in deferential groups about the
+pilgrims, for there were actual pilgrims on the scene, men and women
+whose broad hats and round capes were sewn over with scallop-shells,
+and whose long staffs showed little gourds fastened to the upper end.
+They wore rosaries and crucifixes in profusion, and their habit was
+spangled with all manner of charms and amulets, especially the tinsel
+medals with their favorite device of St. James riding down the Moors.
+We bought at one of the stalls set up before the doors for sale of
+holy wares a memento of the famous old jet-work, a tiny black hand,
+warranted, if hung about the neck, to cure disorders of the eyes. We
+fell to chatting with a pilgrim who was shod in genuine sandal shoon.
+A large gourd was tied to his belt, the rim of his hat was turned up
+at one side and caught there with a rosy-tinted shell, and his long,
+black ringlets fell loose upon his shoulders, framing a romantic Duerer
+face. He talked with us in German, saying that he was of Wittemberg,
+and once a Lutheran, but had been converted to the true faith on a
+previous visit to Spain. Since then he had footed his penitential way
+to Jerusalem and other distant shrines. As his simple speech ran on,
+we seemed to see the mountains round about Santiago crossed by those
+converging streams of mediaeval pilgrims, all dropping on their knees
+at the first glimpse of the cathedral towers. With that sight the
+fainting were refreshed, the lame ran, and jubilant songs of praise to
+Santiago rolled out in many languages upon the air.
+
+     "Primus ex apostolis,
+     Martir Jerusolinus,
+     Jacobus egregio,
+     Sacer est martirio."
+
+In those Ages of Faith all the gates of the city were choked with the
+incoming tide, the hostels and cure-houses overflowed, and the broad
+_plazas_ about the cathedral were filled with dense throngs of
+pilgrims, massed nation by nation, flying their national colors,
+singing their national hymns to the strangely blended music of their
+national instruments, and watching for the acolyte who summoned them,
+company by company, into the august presence-chamber of St. James. His
+shrine they approached only in posture of lowliest reverence. Even
+now, at the end of the nineteenth century, our first glance, as we
+entered the lofty, dim, and incense-perfumed nave, fell on a
+woman-pilgrim dragging herself painfully on her knees up the aisle
+toward the High Altar, and often falling prostrate to kiss the
+pavement with groans and tears.
+
+Mediaeval pilgrims, when they had thus won their way to the entrance of
+the _Capilla Mayor_, and there received three light blows from a
+priestly rod in token of chastisement, were granted the due
+indulgences and, in turn, laid their offerings before the great white
+altar. Still there sits, in a niche above, the thirteenth-century
+image of St. James, a colossal figure wrought of red granite, with
+stiffly flowing vestments of elaborately figured gilt. His left hand
+grasps a silver staff, with gilded gourd atop, and his right, whose
+index finger points downward to the burial vault, holds a scroll
+inscribed, "Hic est corpus divi Jacobi Apostoli ac Hispaniarum
+Patroni." Once he wore a broad-brimmed hat all of pure gold, but this
+was melted down by Marshal Ney in the French invasion. At that time
+the sacred vessels were heaped like market produce into great
+ox-carts, until the cathedral had been plundered of ten hundredweight
+of treasure. It was "the end of the pilgrimage" to climb the steps
+behind this statue and kiss its resplendent silver cape, studded with
+cockle-shells and besprinkled with gems. But the pilgrims of the past
+had much more to see and worship,--the jewelled crown of the Apostle
+set upon the altar, his very hat and staff, the very axe that beheaded
+him, and other relics to which the attention of the modern tourist, at
+least, is not invited. Yet even we were conducted to the Romanesque
+crypt beneath the High Altar, where stands another altar of red
+marble, decorated by a relief of two peacocks drinking from a cup.
+This altar is surmounted by a bronze pedestal, which bears the
+sumptuous ark-shaped casket with its enshrined handfuls of dubious
+dust.
+
+Our latter-day pilgrims seemed well content with the measure of wealth
+and sanctity which Moorish sack and English piracy, French invasion
+and Carlist wars, had spared to the cathedral. In the matter of
+general relics, nevertheless, Santiago suffers by comparison with the
+neighbor cathedral of Oviedo, which proudly shows a silver-plated old
+reliquary, believed by the devout to have been brought in the earliest
+Christian times from Rome. This chest contains, in addition to the
+usual pieces of the true cross and thorns from the crown, such
+remarkable mementos as St. Peter's leathern wallet, crumbs left over
+from the Feeding of the Five Thousand, bits of roast fish and
+honeycomb from Emmaus, bread from the Last Supper, manna from the
+wilderness, a portion of Moses' rod and the mantle of Elijah. Oviedo
+possesses, too, that famous cross which the angels made for Alfonso
+II, and one of the six water-jars of Cana. But the relic chapel of
+Santiago makes up in quantity whatever it may lack in quality, holding
+bones, garments, hair-tresses, and like memorials of a veritable army
+of martyrs, even to what Ford disrespectfully calls "sundry parcels
+of the eleven thousand Virgins." Special stress is laid on a Calvary
+thorn which turns blood-red every Good Friday, and a drop, forever
+fresh, of the Madonna's milk. If pilgrims are not satisfied with
+these, they can walk out to Los Angeles, an adjacent village, whose
+church was built by the angels. Eccentric architects they were in
+choosing to connect their edifice with the cathedral of Santiago by an
+underground beam of pure gold, formerly one of the rafters in God's
+own house.
+
+We had speech of several pilgrims that first morning. One was a
+middle-aged, sun-browned, stubby little man, whom during the ensuing
+week we saw again and again in the cathedral, but never begging, with
+the most of the pilgrims, at the portals, nor taking his ease in the
+cloisters,--a social promenade where the laity came to gossip and the
+clergy to puff their cigarettes. This humble worshipper seemed to pass
+all the days of the festival in enraptured adoration, on his knees now
+before one shrine, now before another. We found him first facing the
+supreme architectural feature of the cathedral, that sublime and yet
+most lovely _Portico de la Gloria_. He was gazing up at its paradise
+of sculptured saints and angels, whose plumes and flowing robes still
+show traces of azure, rose, and gold, with an expression of naive
+ecstasy. He told us that he came from Astorga, and had been nine days
+on the way. He spent most of his time upon the road, he added,
+visiting especially the shrines of the Virgin. "Greatly it pleases me
+to worship God," he said, with sparkling eyes, and ran on eagerly, as
+long as we would listen, about the riches and splendors of different
+cathedrals, and especially the robes and jewels of the _Virgen del
+Pilar_. He seemed in his devout affection to make her wealth his own.
+One of the most touching effects of the scene was the childlike
+simplicity with which the poor of Galicia, coming from such vile
+hovels, felt themselves at home in the dwelling of their saint. Not
+even their sins marred their sense of welcome. In the cloisters we
+encountered an old woman in the pilgrim dress, her staff wound with
+gay ribbons, limping from her long jaunt. She told us frankly that she
+was "only a beggar" in her own village, and had come for the outing as
+well as to please the priest, who, objecting to certain misdemeanors
+which she had the discretion not to specify, had prescribed this
+excursion as penance. She was a lively old soul, and was amusing
+herself mightily with the Goya tapestries, and others, that adorned
+the cloisters in honor of the time. "You have a book and can read,"
+she said, "and you will understand it all, but what can I understand?
+I can see that this is a queen, and she is very fine, and that those
+are butchers who are killing a fat pig. But we who are poor may
+understand little in this world except the love of God." Others of the
+pilgrims were village folk of Portugal, and, taken all together, these
+modern wearers of the shell were but a sorry handful as representing
+those noble multitudes who came, in ages past, to bow before the
+shrine. The fourteen doors of the cathedral then stood open night and
+day, and the grotesque lions leaning out over the lintels could boast
+that there was no tongue of Europe which their stone ears had not
+heard. Three open doors suffice in the feast days now, but with the
+new flood of faith that has set toward Lourdes, pilgrimages to
+Santiago, as to other Latin shrines, are beginning to revive.
+
+Mass was over at the late hour of our arrival, but nave and aisles,
+transepts and cloisters, hummed with greetings of friends, laughter of
+children, who sported unrebuked about those stately columns, and the
+admiring exclamations of strangers. We were often accosted in Spanish
+and in French and asked from what country we came, and if we "loved
+the beautiful church of the Apostle." When we were occasionally
+cornered, and driven in truthfulness to say that we were Yankees, our
+more intelligent interlocutors looked us over with roguish scrutiny,
+but increased rather than abated their courtesies. As for the
+peasants, their geography is safely limited. Noticing that our Spanish
+differed from theirs, they said we must be from Castile, or, at the
+most, from Portugal. At all events we were strangers to Santiago, and
+they merrily vied with one another in showing us about and giving us
+much graphic information not to be found in guide-books.
+
+Much of their lore appears to be of their own invention. The superb
+_Puerta de la Gloria_, wrought by a then famous architect sent from
+the king of Leon, but known to us to-day only as Master Mateo, was the
+fruit of twenty years' labor. This triple porch, which runs across the
+west end of the nave, being finally completed, Master Mateo seems to
+have symbolized the dedication of his service to the Apostle in a
+kneeling statue of himself, facing the east, with back to the richly
+sculptured pillar of the chief portal. The head of this figure is worn
+almost as round and expressionless as a stone ball by the caresses of
+generations of childish hands. The little girls whom we watched that
+morning as they patted and smoothed the much-enduring pate told us,
+kissing the marble eyes, that this was a statue of St. Lucia, which it
+certainly is not. In another moment these restless midgets were
+assaulting, with fluent phrases of insult, the carven faces of certain
+fantastic images which form the bases of the clustered columns. The
+children derisively thrust their feet down the yawning throats, kicked
+the grotesque ears and noses, and in general so maltreated their
+Gothic victims that we were moved to remonstrate.
+
+"But why should you abuse them? What are these creatures, to be
+punished so?"
+
+"_They are Jews_," hissed our little Christians with an emphasis that
+threw new light on the Dreyfus _affaire_. But an instant more, and
+these vivacious, capricious bits of Spanish womanhood were all
+absorbed in aiding a blind old peasant who had groped her way to the
+sacred Portico for its especial privilege of prayer. The central
+shaft, dividing into two the chief of the three doorways, represents
+the Tree of Jesse, the patriarchal figures half-enveloped in
+exquisitely sculptured foliage. The chiselled capital shows the
+Trinity, Dove and Son and Father, with adoring angels. Above sits a
+benignant St. James, whose throne is guarded by lions, and over all,
+in the central tympanum of the sublime doorway, is a colossal figure
+of our Lord, uplifting His wounded hands. About Him are grouped the
+four Evangelists, radiant with eternal youth, and eight angels bearing
+the instruments of the Passion, the pillar of the scourging, whips,
+the crown of thorns, the nails, the scroll, the sponge, the spear, the
+cross. Other angels burn incense before Him, and the archivolt above
+is wrought with an ecstatic multitude of elders, martyrs, and saints,
+so vivid after all these centuries that one can almost hear the blithe
+music of their harps. It is the Christ of Paradise, enthroned amid the
+blest, to whom His presence gives fulness of joy forevermore. Above
+the lesser doors on either side are figured Purgatory and Hell. The
+fresh and glowing beauty, so piquant and yet so spiritual, the truly
+celestial charm of this marvellous Portico which Street did not fear
+to call "one of the greatest glories of Christian art," was never,
+during this festal week, without its throng of reverent beholders, the
+most waiting their turn, like our old blind peasant, to fit thumb and
+finger into certain curious little hollows on the central shaft, and
+thus offer prayer which was sure of answer. Minute after minute for
+unbroken hours, the hands succeeded one another there,--old, knotted,
+toilworn hands, the small, brown hands of children, jewelled hands of
+delicate ladies, and often, as now, the groping hand of blindness,
+with childish fingers helping it to find those mystical depressions in
+the agate. Some of the bystanders told us that St. James had descended
+from his seat above the capital, and laid his hand against the column,
+leaving these traces, but more would have it that the Christ Himself
+had come down by night from the great tympanum to place His wounded
+hand upon the shaft. Street records that he observed several such
+petitioners, after removing the hand, spit into the mouths of the
+winged dragons that serve as base to the pillar; but that literally
+dare-devil form of amen must now have gone out of fashion, for we did
+not see it once.
+
+  [Illustration: THE TRAMPLER OF THE MOORS]
+
+Toward noon we strolled out into the grand _plaza_ before the west
+facade and found it a multitudinous jam of expectant merrymakers. Even
+nuns were peeping down from a leaf-veiled balcony. We seemed to have
+been precipitated out of the Middle Ages into an exaggerated Fourth of
+July. All the city bells were pealing, rockets and Roman candles were
+sputtering, and grotesque fire-balloons, let off from a parapet of
+the cathedral, flourished bandy legs and "Sagasta noses" in the
+resigned old faces of the carven images. And then, amid the
+acclamations of all the small boys in the square, sallied forth the
+Santiago giants. These wickerwork monsters, eight all told, are
+supposed to represent worshippers from foreign lands. They go by
+couples, two being conventional pilgrims with "cockle-shell and sandal
+shoon"; two apparently Moors, with black complexions, feather crowns,
+and much barbaric finery; two nondescripts, possibly the French of
+feudal date; and two, the leaders and prime favorites, regular Punch
+caricatures of modern English tourists. John Bull is a stout old
+gentleman with gray side-whiskers, a vast expanse of broadcloth back,
+and a single eye-glass secured by a lavender ribbon. The British
+Matron, in a smart Dolly Varden frock, glares with a shocked
+expression from under flaxen puffs and an ostrich-feathered hat. The
+popular attitude of mind toward these absurdities is past all finding
+out. Not the children alone, but the entire assemblage greeted them
+with affectionate hilarity. The giants, propelled by men who walked
+inside them and grinned out on the world from a slit in the enormous
+waistbands, trundled about the square, followed by the antics of a
+rival group of dwarfs from the city hall, and then made the round of
+the principal streets, executing clumsy gambols before the public
+buildings.
+
+On the morning after, July twenty-fifth, the great day of the feast,
+anniversary of the Apostle's martyrdom, these same overgrown dolls
+played a prominent part in the solemn cathedral service. The Chapter
+passed in stately progress to the archbishop's palace to fetch his
+Eminence, and later to the ancient portals where the silver-workers
+once displayed their wares, to greet the Royal Delegate. At their head
+strutted this absurd array of giants. The High Mass was superb with
+orchestral music and the most sumptuous robes of the vestiary. The
+"King of Censers," the splendid _botafumeiro_ of fourteenth-century
+date, made so large, six feet high, with the view of purifying the
+cathedral air vitiated by the hordes of pilgrims who were wont to pass
+the night sleeping and praying on the holy pavements, flashed its
+majestic curves, a mighty fire bird, from roof to floor and from
+transept to transept. It is swung from the ceiling by an ingenious
+iron mechanism, and the leaping, roaring flames, as the huge censer
+sweeps with ever augmenting speed from vault to vault, tracing its
+path by a chain of perfumed wreaths, make the spectacle uniquely
+beautiful. Knights of Santiago, their white raiment marked by crimson
+sword and dagger, received from the Royal Delegate "a thousand crowns
+of gold," the annual state donation, instituted by Rameiro, to the
+patron saint. The Delegate, kneeling before the image of Santiago,
+prayed fervently that the Apostle would accept this offering of the
+regent, a queen no less devout than the famous mother of San Fernando,
+and would raise up Alfonso XIII to be another Fernando, winning back
+for Spain her ocean isles which the heretics had wrested away, even as
+Fernando restored to Compostela the cathedral doors and bell which the
+infidel Moors had stolen. His Eminence, who is said to have
+accumulated a fortune during his previous archbishopric in Cuba, in
+turn besought St. James to protect Catholic Spain against "those who
+invoke no right save brute force, and adore no deity except the golden
+calf." In most magnificent procession the silver casket was borne
+around the nave among the kneeling multitudes. And then, to crown
+these august ceremonies, forth trotted our friends, the giants, into
+the open space before the _Capilla Mayor_. Here the six subordinate
+boobies paused, grouping themselves in a ludicrous semicircle, while
+pompous John Bull and his ever scandalized British Matron went up into
+the Holy of Holies and danced, to the music of guitars and
+tambourines, in front of the High Altar.
+
+Every day of that festal week the cathedral services were attended by
+devout throngs, yet there was something blithe and social, well-nigh
+domestic, in the atmosphere of the scene even at the most impressive
+moments. Kneeling groups of peasant women caught the sunshine on their
+orange kerchiefs and scarlet-broidered shawls. Here a praying father
+would gather his little boy, sobbing with weariness, up against his
+breast; there a tired pilgrim woman slumbered in a corner, her broad
+hat with its cockle-shells lying on her knees. Rows of kneeling
+figures waited at the wooden confessionals which were thick set along
+both aisles and ambulatory. Several times we saw a priest asleep in
+the confessional, those who would pour out their hearts to him
+kneeling on in humble patience, not venturing to arouse the holy
+father. Young officers, leaning against the pillars, smiled upon a
+school of Spanish girls, who, guarded by veiled nuns, knelt far along
+the transept. Pilgrims, standing outside the door to gather alms, vied
+with one another in stories of their travels and the marvels they had
+seen.
+
+But at night, walking in the illuminated _alameda_, where thousands of
+Japanese lanterns and colored cups of flame made a fantastic
+fairyland, or dancing their country dances, singing their country
+songs, practising their country sports, and gazing with tireless
+delight at the fireworks in the spacious _Plaza de Alfonso Doce_, the
+worshippers gave themselves up to frankest merriment. Through the
+days, indeed, there was never any lack of noisy jollity. From dawn to
+dawn again cannon were booming, drums beating, bagpipes skirling,
+tambourines clattering, songs and cries resounding through the
+streets. Four patients in the hospital died the year before, we were
+told, from the direct effects of this continuous uproar. But the
+thunder height of the _fiesta_ is attained toward midnight on the
+twenty-fourth, the "Eve of Santiago," when rockets and fire-balloons
+are supplemented by such elaborate devices as the burning of
+"capricious trees" and the destruction of a Moorish facade built for
+the occasion out from the west front of the cathedral. At the first
+ignition of the powder there come such terrific crashes and
+reverberating detonations, such leaps and bursts of flame, that the
+peasant host sways back and the children scream. An Arabic doorway
+with ornate columns, flanked on either side by a wall of many arches
+and surmounted by a blood-red cross, dazzles out into overwhelming
+brilliancy, all in greens and purples, a glowing, scintillating, ever
+changing vision. Soon it is lustrous white and then, in perishing,
+sends up a swift succession of giant rockets. The facade itself is a
+very Alhambra of fret and arabesque. This, too, with thunder bursts
+reveals itself as a flame-colored, sky-colored, sea-colored miracle,
+which pales to gleaming silver and, while we read above it the
+resplendent words "The Patron of Spain," is blown to atoms as a symbol
+of Santiago's victory over the Moors. This makes an ideal Spanish
+holiday, but the cost, borne by the city, is heavy, there is distinct
+and increasing injury to the cathedral fabric, and all this jubilee
+for archaic victories over the Moslem seems to be mocked by the hard
+facts of to-day.
+
+The Santiago festivities, of which the half has not been told, closed
+on Thursday afternoon, July twenty-seventh, with a procession through
+the streets. We waited a weary while for it before the doors where the
+old jet-workers used to set their booths, amusing ourselves meantime
+by watching the house maids drawing water from the fountain in the
+square below. These sturdy Galicians were armed with long tin tubes
+which they dextrously applied to the spouting mouths of the fountain
+griffins, so directing the stream into the straight, iron-bound pails.
+Not far away the market women covered the flags with red and golden
+fruit. A saucy beggar-wench, with the blackest eyes in Spain, demanded
+alms, and when we had yielded up the usual toll of coppers, loudly
+prayed to Santiago to pardon us for not having given her more on this
+his holy festival. At last out sallied the band, followed by those
+inevitable giants, and amid mad ringing of bells and fizzing of
+invisible rockets, forth from the venerable portals issued standards,
+crosses, tapers, priests in white and gold, and platformed effigies of
+pilgrims, saints, and deities. Then came bishops, cardinals, and
+archbishop, ranks of military bearing tapers, the alcalde and his
+associates in the city government with antique escort of bedizened
+mace-bearers, a sparkling statue of St. James on horseback busily
+beheading his legions of Moors, a bodyguard of all the pilgrims in
+attendance on his saintship, and finally the _Virgen del Pilar_, at
+whose passing all the concourse fell upon their knees. Churches in the
+line of march had their own images decked and ready, waiting in the
+colonnaded porches to fall into the procession. The market women and
+the maids at the fountain threw kisses to the Christ Child, leaning in
+blue silk frock and white lace tucker against a cross of roses, but
+the boys waved their caps for St. Michael, debonair that he was with
+blowing crimson robe, real feather wings fluttering in the breeze, and
+his gold foot set on the greenest of dragons.
+
+The procession came home by way of the great west doors, opened only
+this once in the round year. The setting sun, bringing out all the
+carven beauty of that dark gray facade, glittered on the golden balls
+and crosses that tip the noble towers, and on the golden staff of St.
+James and the golden quill of St. John, where the two sons of thunder
+stand colossal in their lofty niches. A baby, in yellow kerchief and
+cherry skirt, toddling alone across the centre of the square, pointed
+with adoring little hand at the mounted image of Santiago, which
+halted at the foot of the grand stairway, his lifted sword a line of
+golden light, while the deep-voiced choir chanted his old triumphal
+hymn. John Bull and the British Matron, stationing themselves on
+either side as a guard of honor, stared at him with insular contempt.
+As the chant ceased, St. James chivalrously made way for the _Virgen
+del Pilar_, a slender figure of pure gold poised on an azure
+tabernacle, to mount the steps before him. The bells pealed out to
+welcome her as she neared the portals, and an ear-splitting explosion
+of a monster rocket, with a tempest-rain of sparks, announced the
+instant of her entrance beneath the chiselled arch. Behind her went
+the penitents, arduously climbing the long stone flights of that
+quadruple stairway upon their knees. These, too, were but shadows of
+those mediaeval penitents who of old staggered after this procession,
+bowed under the weight of crosses, or scourging themselves until they
+fainted in their own trail of blood. Yet it is still strange and
+touching to see, long after the inner spaces of the cathedral are dim
+with evening, those kneeling figures making their painful progress
+about aisles and ambulatory, sobbing as they go, and falling forward
+on their faces to kiss the pavement that is bruising them.
+
+  [Illustration: SANTIAGO CATHEDRAL]
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+VIGO AND AWAY
+
+     Hasta la Vista!
+
+
+Our plan for the summer included a return trip across Spain, _via_
+Valladolid, Salamanca, and Saragossa to Barcelona and the Balearic
+Isles; but the bad food and worse lodging of Galicia, the blazing heat
+and the incessant, exhausting warfare against vermin, had begun to
+tell. That Spanish fever with which so many foreigners make too
+intimate acquaintance was at our doors, and we found ourselves forced
+at last to sacrifice enthusiasm to hygiene. The most eccentric train
+which it was ever my fortune to encounter shunted and switched us
+across country to Vigo in about the time it would have taken to make
+the journey donkeyback. Here we tarried for a week or so, gathering
+strength from the Atlantic breezes, and when, one sunny August day, a
+stately steamboat called for an hour at Vigo harbor on her way from
+Buenos Ayres to Southampton, we went up over the side. Our shock of
+astonishment at the cleanliness around us could not, however, divert
+our attention long from the receding shores of Spain, toward which one
+of us, at least, still felt a stubborn longing.
+
+They lay bright in the midday sunshine, those green uplands of
+Galicia, mysterious with that patient peasant life of which we had
+caught fleeting, baffling glimpses. Still we seemed to see the
+brown-legged women washing in the brook and spreading their
+coarse-spun, gay-bordered garments on the heather; children, with the
+faces of little Pats and little Biddies, tugging a bleating sheep
+across the stepping-stones, or boosting an indignant goat over the
+wall; lean pigs poking their noses out of the low, stone doorways,
+where babies slept on wisps of hay; girls in cream-colored kerchiefs,
+starred with gold, bearing loads of fragrant brush or corded fagots on
+their heads. As the evening should come on, and the sea-breeze stir
+the tassels of the maize, we knew how the fields would be dotted with
+impromptu groups of dancers, leaping higher and higher and waving
+their arms in ever wilder merriment,--a scene pastoral down to the
+pigs, and poetic up to those gushes of song that delight the listener.
+
+     "I went to the meadow
+       Day after day,
+     To gather the blossoms
+       Of April and May,
+     And there was Mercedes,
+       Always there,
+     Sweetest white lily
+       That breathes the air."
+
+     "North-wind, North-wind,
+       Strong as wine!
+     Blow thou, North-wind,
+       Comrade mine!"
+
+     "The Virgin is spreading handkerchiefs
+       On the rosemary to dry.
+     The little birds are singing,
+       And the brook is running by.
+
+     "The Virgin washes handkerchiefs,
+       And spreads them in the sun,
+     But St. Joseph, out of mischief,
+       Has stolen every one."
+
+It was only now and then that we had realized a touch of genuine
+fellowship with these Galician peasants. I remember a little
+thirteenth-century church, gray crosses topping its low gray towers,
+one of which was broken off as if a giant hand had snapped it. In the
+porch a white-headed woman, in a gold-edged blue kerchief and
+poppy-red skirt, was holding a dame-school. It took her all the
+morning session, she told us, to get the fifty faces washed, but in
+the afternoon the children learned to read and knit and play the
+choral games. She had ten cents a month for every child, when the
+parents were able to pay. From a convenient hollow in a pillar of
+Arabic tradition she proudly drew her library,--a shabby primer and a
+few loose leaves of a book of devotion. As we talked, the midgets grew
+so restless and inquisitive that she shook her long rod at them with a
+mighty show of fierceness, and shooed them out of the porch like so
+many chickens. Then she went on eagerly with the story of her life,
+telling how she was married at fifteen, how her husband went "to serve
+the king" in the second Carlist war, and never came back, and how her
+only daughter had borne nine children, of whom eight died in babyhood,
+"_angelitos al cielo_," having known on earth "only the day and the
+night." The last and youngest had been very ill with the fever, and
+the afflicted grandmother had promised that noble Roman maiden, the
+martyr saint of the little gray church, to go around the edifice seven
+times upon her knees, if only the child might live. The vow had been
+heard, as the presence of a thin-faced, wistful tot by the old woman's
+side attested, but so far only three of the seven circuits had been
+made. "It tires the knees much." But even with the words she knelt
+again, kissing the sacred threshold, and began the painful, heavy,
+shuffling journey around the church, while the baby, with wondering
+gray eyes, trotted beside her, clinging to the wrinkled hand. When at
+last, with puffs and groanings, the old dame had reached the carven
+doorway again, she rose wearily, rubbing her knees.
+
+"A sweet saint!" she said, "but _ay de mi!_ such gravel!"
+
+We ought, of course, to have been impressed in Galicia with its
+debasing ignorance and superstition, and so, to a certain extent, we
+were. We went to see a _romeria_, a pilgrimage to a hilltop shrine, on
+one of our last afternoons in Vigo, and found a double line of dirty,
+impudent beggars, stripped half naked, and displaying every sort of
+hideous deformity,--a line that reached all the way from the
+carriage-road up the rugged ascent to the crest. We had to run the
+gantlet, and it was like traversing a demoniac sculpture-gallery made
+up of human mockeries. We had to push our way, moreover, through scene
+after scene of vulgar barter in things divine, and when at last the
+summit was achieved, the shrine of the Virgin seemed robbed of its
+glory by the ugliness, vice, and misery it overlooked. Spain is
+mediaeval, and the modern age can teach her much. But with all her
+physical foulness and mental folly, there still dwells in her that
+mediaeval grace for which happier countries may be searched in vain.
+
+Yet Spain is far from unhappy. It is beautiful to see out of what
+scant allowance of that which we call well-being, may be evolved
+wisdom and joy, poetry and religion. Wearied as we two bookish
+travellers were with lectures and libraries, we rejoiced in this wild
+Galician lore that lives on the lips of the people. The written
+Spanish literature, like other Spanish arts, is of the richest, nor
+are its laurels limited to the dates of Cervantes and Calderon. The
+modern Spanish novel, for instance, as Mr. Howells so generously
+insists, all but leads the line. But Spain herself is poetry. What
+does one want of books in presence of her storied, haunted
+vistas,--warrior-trod Asturian crags, opalescent reaches of Castilian
+plain, orange-scented gardens of Andalusia? A circle of cultivated
+Spaniards is one of the most charming groups on earth, but Spaniards
+altogether innocent of formal education may be walking anthologies of
+old ballads, spicy quatrains, riddles, proverbs, fables, epigrams. The
+peasant quotes "Don Quixote" without knowing it; the donkey-boy is as
+lyric as Romeo; the devout shepherd tells a legend of the Madonna that
+is half the dream of his own lonely days among the hills. Where
+Spanish life is most stripped of material prosperity, it seems most to
+abound in suggestions of romance. This despised Galicia, the province
+of simpletons, is literary in its own way. The hovel has no bookshelf,
+but the children's ears drink in the grandmother's croon:--
+
+     "On a morning of St. John
+       Fell a sailor into the sea.
+     'What wilt thou give me, sailor, sailor,
+       If I rescue thee?'
+
+     "'I will give thee all my ships,
+       All my silver, every gem,
+     All my gold,--yea, wife and daughters,
+       I will give thee them.'
+
+     "'What care I for masted ships,
+       What care I for gold or gem?
+     Keep thy wife and keep thy daughters,
+       What care I for them?
+
+     "'On the morning of St. John
+       Thou art drowning in the sea.
+     Promise me thy soul at dying,
+       And I'll rescue thee.'
+
+     "'I commend the sea to God,
+       And my body to the sea,
+     And my soul, Sweet Mother Mary,
+       I commit to thee.'"
+
+And well it was for this bold mariner that he did not take up the
+Devil's offer, for everybody knows that those who have signed away
+their souls to the Devil turn black in the moment of dying, and are
+borne, black and horrible, to the sepulchre.
+
+In this northwestern corner of Spain are many mountain-songs as well
+as sea-songs. One of the sweetest tells how the blue-robed Virgin met
+a young shepherdess upon the hills and was so pleased with the
+maiden's courtesy that she straightway bore her thence to Paradise,
+not forgetting, this tender Mary of Bethlehem, to lead the flock
+safely back to the sheepfold. The love of the Galician peasantry for
+"Our Lady" blends childlike familiarity with impassioned devotion.
+
+     "As I was telling my beads,
+       While the dawn was red,
+     The Virgin came to greet me
+       With her arms outspread."
+
+Her rank in their affections is well suggested by another of the
+popular _coplas_.
+
+     "In the porch of Bethlehem,
+       Sun, Moon, and Star,
+     The Virgin, St. Joseph,
+       And the Christ Child are."
+
+With their saints these Spanish peasants seem almost on a household
+footing, not afraid of a jest because so sure of the love that
+underlies it.
+
+     "St. John and Mary Magdalen
+       Played hide and seek, the pair,
+     Till St. John threw a shoe at her,
+       Because she didn't play fair."
+
+Yet there is no lack of fear in this rustic religion. There is many a
+"shalt not" in the Galician decalogue. One must not try to count the
+stars, lest he come to have as many wrinkles as the number of stars he
+has counted. Never rock an empty cradle, for the next baby who sleeps
+in it will die. So often as you name the Devil in life, so often will
+he appear to you in the hour of death. If you hear another name him,
+call quickly, before the Devil has time to arrive, "Jesus is here." It
+is ill to dance alone, casting your shadow on the wall, because that
+is dancing with the Devil. But the Prince of Darkness is not the only
+supernatural being whom Galicians dread. There is a bleating demon who
+makes fun of them, cloudy giants who stir up thunderstorms, and are
+afraid only of St. Barbara, witches who cast the evil eye, but most of
+all the "souls in pain." For oftentimes the dead come back to earth
+for their purgatorial penance. You must never slam a door, nor close a
+window roughly, nor kick the smallest pebble from your path, because
+in door or stone or window may be a suffering soul. To see one is to
+die within the year. If you would not be haunted by your dead, kiss
+the shoes which the body wears to the burial.
+
+It is well to go early to bed, for at midnight all manner of evil
+beings prowl up and down the streets. Who has not heard of that
+unlucky woman, who, after spinning late and long, stepped to the
+window for a breath of air exactly at twelve o'clock? Far off across
+the open country she saw a strange procession of shining candles
+drawing nearer and nearer, although there were no hands to hold them
+and no sound of holy song. Straight toward her house came those
+uncanny lights, moving silently through the meadow mists, and halted
+beneath her window. Then the foremost one of all begged her to take it
+in and keep it carefully until the midnight following. Scarcely
+knowing what she did, she closed her fingers on the cold wax and,
+blowing out the flame, laid away the taper in a trunk, but when, at
+daybreak, after a sleepless night, she raised the lid, before her lay
+a corpse. Aghast, she fled to the priest, who lent her all the relics
+of the sacristy; but their united power only just availed to save her
+from the fury of the spirits when they returned at midnight to claim
+the taper, expecting, moreover, to seize upon the woman and "turn her
+to fire and ashes."
+
+Sometimes a poor soul is permitted to condense the slow ages of
+Purgatory into one hour of uttermost torment. Galicians tell how a
+young priest brought his serving-maid to sorrow and how, to escape the
+latter burning, she shut herself, one day when the priest was engaged
+in the ceremonial of High Mass, into the red-hot oven. On his return,
+he called her name and sought her high and low, and when, at last, he
+opened the oven door, out flew a white dove that soared, a purified
+and pardoned soul, into the blue of heaven. The science of this simple
+folk is not divorced from poetry and religion. The rainbow drinks,
+they say, in the sea and in the rivers. The Milky Way, the Road to
+Santiago, is trodden every night by pale, dim multitudes who failed to
+make that blessed pilgrimage, from which no one of us will be excused,
+in time of life. When the dust stirs in an empty house, good St. Ana
+is sweeping there. When babies look upward and laugh, they see the
+cherubs at play. Tuesday is the unlucky day in Spain, whereas children
+born on Friday receive the gift of second-sight, and those who enter
+the world on Good Friday are marked by a cross in the roof of the
+mouth and have the holy touch that cures diseases. It is a fortunate
+house beneath whose eaves the swallow builds,
+
+     "For swallows on Mount Calvary
+       Plucked tenderly away
+     From the brows of Christ two thousand thorns,
+       Such gracious birds are they."
+
+  [Illustration: ST. JAMES]
+
+The Galicians, butt of all Spain for their dulness, are shrewd enough
+in fact. It is said that those arrant knaves, the gypsies, dare not
+pass through Galicia for fear of being cheated. Like other unlettered
+peasants, Gallegos whet their wits on rhyming riddles.
+
+             "Who is the little pigeon,
+               Black and white together,
+             That speaks so well without a tongue
+               And flies without a feather?"
+
+     "A tree with twelve boughs and four nests on a bough,
+     In each nest seven birdlings,--unriddle me now."
+
+In many of their proverbial sayings one gets the Spanish tang at its
+best. "A well-filled stomach praises God."
+
+     "Why to Castile
+       For your fortune go?
+     A man's Castile
+       Is under his hoe."
+
+And I fear if my comrade were to speak, in Spanish phrase, of our
+return to Galicia, she would bid St. James expect us "on Judgment Day
+in the afternoon."
+
+
+
+
+     Works by Alice Morse Earle
+
+     CHILD LIFE IN COLONIAL DAYS
+
+     _Profusely Illustrated_
+
+     Crown 8vo. Cloth. Gilt top. $2.50
+
+
+Commercial Advertiser:
+
+"Once more Mrs. Earle has drawn on her apparently inexhaustible store
+of colonial lore, and has produced another interesting book of the
+olden days.... Mrs. Earle's interesting style, the accuracy of her
+statements, and the attractive illustrations she always supplies for
+her books make the volume one to be highly prized."
+
+Buffalo Express:
+
+"Mrs. Alice Morse Earle performs a real historical service, and writes
+an interesting book. It is not a compilation from, or condensation of,
+previous books, but the fruit of personal and original investigation
+into the conditions of life in the American colonies."
+
+
+     HOME LIFE IN COLONIAL DAYS
+
+Education:
+
+"Mrs. Earle has made a very careful study of the details of domestic
+life from the earliest days of the settlement of the country. The book
+is sumptuously illustrated, and every famed article, such as the
+spinning-wheel, the foot-stone, the brass knocker on the door, and the
+old-time cider mill, is here presented to the eye, and faithfully
+pictured in words. The volume is a fascinating one, and the vast army
+of admirers and students of the olden days will be grateful to the
+author for gathering together and putting into permanent form so much
+accurate information concerning the homes of our ancestors."
+
+Literature:
+
+"Mrs. Earle's fidelity in study and her patient research are evident
+on every page of this charming book, and her pleasantly colloquial
+style is frequently assisted by very beautiful illustrations, both of
+the houses of the colonists, from the primitive cave dug out of the
+hillside and made to answer for warmth and shelter, to the more
+comfortable log cabin, the farmstead with its adjacent buildings, and
+the stately mansion abiding to our own day."
+
+
+     THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+     66 FIFTH AVENUE NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+     AMONG ENGLISH HEDGEROWS
+
+     By CLIFTON JOHNSON
+
+     _With an Introduction by HAMILTON W. MABIE_
+
+     Illustrated. Cr. 8vo. Cloth extra. Gilt top. $2.25
+
+
+"'Among English Hedgerows' is one of the most beautiful of illustrated
+books, containing, as it does, a great number of half-tone
+reproductions of Mr. Johnson's admirable photographs.
+
+"The author, as far as possible, lived the life of the people who
+figure in these pages, and we have delightful accounts of village
+characters, and glimpses of quaint old English homes.
+
+"Hamilton W. Mabie, who furnishes the introduction, well summarizes
+Mr. Johnson's merits as 'a friendly eye, a hearty sympathy, and a very
+intelligent camera, and that love of his field and of his subject
+which is the prime characteristic of the successful painter of rural
+life and country folk.'"--_Illustrated Buffalo Express._
+
+
+
+
+     ALONG FRENCH BYWAYS
+
+     By CLIFTON JOHNSON
+
+     Illustrated. Cr. 8vo. Cloth extra. Gilt top. $2.25
+
+"A book of leisurely strolling through one of the most picturesque
+countries of Europe, enlivened with description and anecdote, and
+profusely illustrated.... Mr. Johnson is not only a delightful writer,
+but is one of the best landscape photographers of whom we have
+knowledge."--_Boston Transcript._
+
+"This book shares the merits of Mr. Johnson's 'Among English
+Hedgerows': simplicity of theme and treatment, sympathy and love of
+nature."--_The Mail and Express._
+
+"A book of strolling, a book of nature, a book of humble peasant life
+intermingled with the chance experiences of the narrator."--_The
+Worcester Spy._
+
+
+     THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+     66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Spanish Highways and Byways, by Katharine Lee Bates
+
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