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diff --git a/40201-0.txt b/40201-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef7fbb1 --- /dev/null +++ b/40201-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3258 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Things seen in Spain, by C. Gasquoine Hartley + + +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: Things seen in Spain + + +Author: C. Gasquoine Hartley + + + +Release Date: July 10, 2012 [eBook #40201] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THINGS SEEN IN SPAIN*** + + +This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler. + + [Picture: Women at the Al-Mida Fountain in the Patio De Los Naranjos, + Cordova] + + + + + + THINGS SEEN IN + SPAIN + + + * * * * * + + BY + C. GASQUOINE HARTLEY + + AUTHOR OF + “RECORD OF SPANISH PAINTING,” “MOORISH CITIES + IN SPAIN,” ETC. + + * * * * * + + WITH FIFTY ILLUSTRATIONS + + * * * * * + + LONDON + SEELEY, SERVICE & CO. LIMITED + 38 GREAT RUSSELL STREET + 1912 + + * * * * * + + + + +UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME + + +Cloth, 2s. net; leather, 3s. net; velvet leather, in a box, 5s. net + + THINGS SEEN IN VENICE + By CANON LONSDALE RAGG & LAURA M. RAGG + _With 50 Illustrations_ + + THINGS SEEN IN NORTHERN INDIA + BY T. L. PENNELL, M.D., B.Sc. _With 50 Illustrations_ + + THINGS SEEN IN SPAIN + BY C. GASQUOINE HARTLEY. _With 50 Illustrations_ + + “A successful series by capable writers.”—_Times_. + + THINGS SEEN IN HOLLAND + BY C. E. ROCHE. _With 50 Illustrations_ + + “A charming addition to the series . . . eminently readable.”—_The + Morning Post_. + + THINGS SEEN IN EGYPT + BY E. L. BUTCHER. _With 50 Illustrations_ + + “Mrs. Butcher is thoroughly conversant with her subject . . . + excellently written.”—_The Globe_. + + THINGS SEEN IN CHINA + BY J. R. CHITTY. _With 50 Illustrations_ + + “By a writer who adds grace and style to entire familiarity with the + country and people.”—_The Birmingham Post_. + + “A racy description of the social life of the Chinese.”—_The + Scotsman_ + + THINGS SEEN IN JAPAN + BY CLIVE HOLLAND. _With 50 Illustrations_ + + “A delightful little book.”—_The Church Times_. + + “An attractive volume; the photographs with which it is illustrated + are admirable. The subjects give a very fair idea of the beauty and + charm of a fascinating country.”—_The Manchester Guardian_. + + SEELEY, SERVICE & CO. LIMITED + + + + +CONTENTS {0} + + + + + PAGES + CHAPTER I + THE FASCINATION OF SPAIN +Spain the Home of Romance—The Conservatism of the 13–57 +People—Spain the most Democratic of Countries—The +Tradition of Chivalry—The Cid—Spain the Connecting Link +between Europe and Africa—The Place of the Moor in the +Country To-day—The Gardens of Granada—The Bull-fight: its +National Importance—Spanish Dancing + CHAPTER II + THE SPANISH PEOPLE +The Character of the People—Their Quietness and 58–92 +Sobriety—Their Cruelty—This the Result of their Stoicism +and Indifference to Pain—These the Qualities of a Strong +and Primitive People—The _Feria_, the Holiday of the +Sevillians—Religion: its Place in the National Life—The +Dance of the _Seises_—Holy Week in Seville—Religious +Processions—The _Paseos_ + CHAPTER III + TOWN LIFE IN SPAIN +Toledo, the Type of the Spanish City—Its Architectural 93–129 +Monuments—The Intermingling of Arab and Christian +Art—Granada—The Alhambra—Cordova—The Great +Mosque—Seville, the City of Pleasure—The Special +Character of the Streets—The _Café’s_ and Shops—The +Typical Andalusian—The Parks—The _Sevillanas_—Spanish +Courtship—The Houses of Seville—The _Patios_—The +Home-life of the Sevillians—Spanish Hospitality + CHAPTER IV + TOWN LIFE IN SPAIN (_continued_) +Madrid: its Situation—The Old Town—The Rastro—The New 130–152 +Town—The Puerta del Sol—_Cafés_—The _Aguadores_—The Prado +Park—The Theatre—Spanish Children—The Museums—The +Picture-galleries + CHAPTER V + COUNTRY LIFE IN SPAIN +Life in a Spanish _Posada_—Spanish Peasants—The Toilers 153–203 +of the Field and other Workers—The _Cigarreras_ of +Seville—The _Kermesse_ in the Esclava Gardens—The Love of +Festivals—Easter Day in a Spanish Village—Third-class +Travelling—Wild Life in Spain—Fishing in the Country +Districts + CHAPTER VI + SPANISH ART +Spanish Art the Reflection of the Spanish Temperament—The 204–231 +Great Buildings of Spain—Spanish Gothic—Its Realistic +Naturalness, its Massiveness and Extravagance—The +Churches, the Real Museums of Art Treasures—Polychrome +Sculpture—Spanish Painting—Its Late Development—Its +Special Character—Its Strength, its Dramatic and +Religious Character + CHAPTER VII + ABOUT MANY THINGS +The Real Spirit of Spain—The Spiritual Instinct of the 232–252 +Race—The Escorial—Spanish Beggars—The Spaniard belongs to +the Past, but also to the Future +INDEX 253–254 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + + + PAGE +Women at the Al-Mida Fountain in the Patio de los _Frontispiece_ +Naranjos, Cordova +A Peasant of Andalusia 12 +A Busy Street leading to the Market, Valencia 14 +The Puerta Visagra Antigua, Toledo 20 +Pastimes of the Gitanos in the Camino del Sacre 26 +Monte, Granada +Walls and Towers of the Alhambra on the Bank of 33 +the Darro, Granada +A Glimpse of Granada from the Walls of the 36 +Generalife, the Summer Palace of the Moors +A Group of Dancers at the _Feria_, Seville 43 +The Old Town of Ronda 46 +The Falls of the Guadalevin, the Great Gorge, and 50 +the New Bridge, Ronda +Spanish Dancers, Seville 54 +The Cave of the Doves 60 +The Limestone Quarries, Almeria 64 +A Gipsy House at Coria 68 +Interior of the Same House 74 +A Village _Pasos_ 80 +A Rope and Matting Factory, Seville 84 +Sacristy of the Convent of the Cartuja, Granada 88 +Bridge of Alcantara and the Alcázar, Toledo 94 +A Street in Cordova 100 +Puerta del Perdon 107 +The Queen’s Chamber, Alhambra 110 +Court of Lions, Alhambra 116 +A Group of Workers in a _Patio_ 120 +“Las Planchadoras” 129 +The Throne-Room, Royal Palace, Madrid 133 +The Rastro Market, Madrid 134 +Mounting Guard in the Plaza de Armas 143 +Children at Play 147 +A Bridge and Country Homes 154 +The Village _Posada_ 158 +A Medieval Ox-Cart 164 +Harvesting Wheat 168 +An Orange-Picker 172 +Pottery Vendors 178 +A Basque Peasant-Girl driving an Ox-Cart 184 +Sherry a Half-Century Old 191 +Ruins of an Old Aqueduct 194 +Beaching Fishing-Boats 198 +Choir-Stalls in the Mosque, Cordova 207 +Burgos Cathedral 210 +Residence of the Mexican Minister, Madrid 214 +The Old Aqueduct of Trajan 218 +Main Gallery in the Museo del Prado 222 +The Cross by the Wayside 226 +Town and Monastery of the Escorial 234 +Puerta Judiciana, or Gate of Justice 238 +Municipal Plaza and Cathedral, Toledo 242 +The Valley of the Guadelevin River 246 +Flamenco Dance of a Gitana, Seville 249 + + [Picture: A Peasant of Andalusia] + + + + +CHAPTER I—THE FASCINATION OF SPAIN + + +Spain the Home of Romance—The Conservatism of the People—Spain the most +Democratic of Countries—The Tradition of Chivalry—The Cid—Spain the +Connecting Link between Europe and Africa—The Place of the Moor in the +Country To-day—The Gardens of Granada—The Bull-fight: its National +Importance—Spanish Dancing. + +Coming into Spain by any of the chief portals—at Port Bou, at Algeciras, +or at Irun—one finds oneself in a totally new country. You cast much +behind you as you come, for instance, from France; you will be impressed +by a certain strangeness of aspect far different from all you have learnt +to expect in other countries. You will feel transplanted back into +another world. It is as if Spain had sat aside waiting, indifferent and +proud, while elsewhere life has rushed onwards. + +The conservatism of Spain may be gathered from the old impressions we +find in the pages of writers describing the people and the country of +more than a century ago, which are still true in so much as they refer to +what is essential in the national spirit, and to the survival of the +customs of mediæval Europe. “I regard the Spanish people,” says +Stendhal, “as the living representatives of the Middle Ages.” + + [Picture: A Busy Street Leading to the Market, Valencia] + +Spain is still the home of the romance which belonged to an age that has +passed. And although the more flourishing Spanish towns are nowadays +full of animation—factories are springing up and signs of commercial +activity are not wanting—this new movement of progress has not destroyed +this romance. The Spain which Cervantes immortalized still lives. We +may still take Don Quixote and Sancho Panza as typical figures, whom you +may see any day in the towns of Castile or walking on the roads of La +Mancha. These are the types that have remained unchanged. + +And herein rests the fascination of Spain—this conservatism which has +lasted into an age of hurrying progress. It is a fascination that +everyone will not feel, but for those whom it touches the glamour is more +permanent and irresistible than that of any other country I know. + +Many details of life, and especially in the smaller towns still unvisited +by the tourist, remind us of a past that other countries have left +behind. The _serenos_, or night watchmen, with long hooded cloaks, +tipped staves, and lanterns, are familiar figures in every town. In the +country the shepherd is seen, wrapped in his coloured blanket, leaning on +his tall staff in the midst of his flock. The wandering palmer with his +cockle-shell, known to the England of Chaucer, may still be met in Spain. + +You realize how far you are from the present when you enter a Spanish +town. You pass under a Moorish gateway, dark and imposing, with a +suggestion of savage strength in its gaunt yellow masonry that carries +memories of battles that have been fought. Here you wait for the +_consumos_ to examine your luggage, which, if they doubt your honesty, +they will probe with their long steel prong. The dull jangle from the +bells of your straining mules gives an unaccustomed sound as you drive +upwards, for almost every Spanish town is set upon a hill. + +If the town is small, the _posada_ where you seek for lodging will have a +wineshop below. You will see a crowd of wild-looking men, with great +cloaks and _sombreros_ pulled low upon their foreheads, seated at a rude +table. They are taking wine from the _bota_, the long-spouted leather +bottle from which only the Spaniard has the skill to drink. Thoughts of +brigands will crowd your mind. But you need have no fear; these are +simple townsmen. Savage looks and this strange, wild appearance cover +the simple friendliness of the child. The excited conversation will +cease as you enter. Most likely you will hear the word “Francéses” +muttered by one and another, for in Spain every foreigner is first taken +to be French. You answer, “No, Ingléses.” At once an atmosphere of +friendliness springs up, and an exchange of greetings will be made. No +one will take any further notice of you. It is not the custom of the +Spanish landlord to force his attentions upon his guests. He is +constitutionally incapable of the obsequious fussiness that belongs to +commercial hospitality. You will be accepted as one of the family, and +the friendly trustfulness that is one characteristic of the fine Spanish +courtesy will soon cause the foreign _caballero_ to feel at home. + +Spain is still the most democratic of countries. Every Spaniard expects +as a matter of right to be treated as an equal. It is significant that +the title _Señor_ is given alike to God and to a beggar. Your host at +the _posada_ will sit down with you to meals, and his son, who waits upon +you, will slap you on the back with easy friendliness as he makes plans +for your enjoyment. These familiar and intimate relationships, which +once were common in every country, are found to-day nowhere so +universally practised as in Spain. Each Spaniard that you meet gives the +greeting which commends you to God. And no native ever eats in company +without first uttering the customary _gusta_, an invitation to share in +the repast, which is a survival, most probably, of the belief of +primitive peoples in the evil eye that poisons the food of those who eat +alone. + + [Picture: The Puerta Visagra Antigua, Toledo] + +The snobbery that has arisen out of modern progress is unknown to the +Spanish man and woman. Business is not here the highest aim of life. +The Spaniard still feels true what Ganivet made Hernan Cortes say: “The +grandest enterprises are those in which money has no part, and the cost +falls entirely on the brain and heart.” The hustling, besmirching spirit +of commercialism is absent from the Spanish character; and for this +reason, although Spain belongs to the past, the country, to those who +have eyes to see, will seem to belong also to the future. + +El Mitayo Cid Campeador, as the old chronicles affectionately call the +Spanish hero, with his democratic manners, his rough-and-ready justice, +and his acts at once ideal and yet practical in achievement, is the +supreme representative of chivalry. Valour and virtue, the qualities +peculiarly identified with the Spanish romantic spirit, were his. His +energy in warfare, his power in love, his childlike religious faith, and +his fearlessness in facing pain and also death, are characteristics that +belong to all the men who have made Spain great. + +Spain was the land of the sword, and the business of the true Spaniard +was war. And this love of action, strange as it may seem to those +accustomed to think of the lazy Spaniard, is a very real trait in the +Spanish character. But the action must be connected with romance. It +has nothing at all to do with the idea of working for the gain of money +which belongs to the “getting on” spirit of modern civilization. The +Spaniard works as the child works, for joy, and not for gain. + +Living in Spain, you come to understand that this land is really the +connecting link between Europe and Africa. Both in his physical traits +and in his character, the Spaniard shows his relation to the North +African type—“the child of a European father by an Abyssinian mother” he +has been called. This is true. Lithe and vigorous, with long-shaped +heads and rich pigmentation of skin—the type is clearly seen in the +pictures of Murillo and Zurbaran, and with a more vivid expression in the +portraits of El Greco—the Spaniard has more points of contact with the +Eastern than with the Western races. Seldom indeed is he entirely a +European. + +But it is among the women that the resemblance stands out most clearly. +There are women with dark long African faces. You will see them among +the _flamencas_ of Seville, or in the gipsy quarter of the Camino del +Sacro Monte at Granada—women with slow, sinuous movements, which you +notice best when you see them dance, and wonderful eyes that flash a slow +fire, quite unforgettable in their strange beauty. + +In dress we still find the Oriental love of bright and violent colours. +The elegant Manilla shawls and the mantilla, which give such special +distinction to the women of Spain, are modifications of the Eastern veil. +The elaborately dressed hair, built up with combs, with the rose or +carnation giving a note of colour, has also a very ancient origin. Then, +the men in some districts still retain the fashion of loose, baggy +trousers such as women wear in the East. + +We see the Moorish influence in the Oriental seclusion of the houses, +with the barred windows and high gates, often studded with bosses, +seeming to forbid an entrance. The Spaniard still constructs his house +as the Moors built their houses, around the inner court, or _patio_, +those gardens of colour and rest, sometimes quite hidden from the +passer-by, as at Toledo; sometimes visible through an openwork iron +gateway, like the gay _patios_ of Seville. Each house still has its +_buzon_, and is fronted with a _zaguán_, or vestibule of wood. + +In every department of Spanish life we meet with this persistence of the +Moorish influence. This need not surprise us. + +The coming of the Moors into Spain was a civilizing expedition more than +a conquest. It was the Orient entering Europe. The invaders—for the +most part Berbers with a few Arabs—were a race of young and vigorous +culture, of such astonishing and rapid growth that, although in Africa +they had hardly emerged from savagery, in Spain they manifested a truly +wonderful receptivity, and absorbed and developed the best elements they +found in the life of the country. + +[Picture: Pastimes of the Gitanos in the Camino Del Sacre Monte, Granada] + +In two years the Moors became masters, and under their dominion, from the +eighth to the fifteenth century, the most elevated and opulent +civilization flourished. All the arts, sciences, industries, inventions, +and culture, of the old civilization budded out into fresh discoveries of +creative energy. Religious toleration came with them, and was lost with +them. The spirit of chivalry arose among the Moors, and was afterwards +appropriated by the Christian warriors of the North. A Moorish knight +was in every respect like a Spanish knight. It was religion alone that +divided them—one called on the name of Allah, the other on that of +Christ. + +We must remember that the primitive Iberians of Spain were themselves of +Berber stock, and this affinity in racial origin explains the peaceful +amalgamation of the conquerors with the conquered. Afterwards by the +constant mingling of their bloods the Moors and the old Spaniards became +one. The Moor gave to the Spaniard and he took from him, and they +contributed to the same work of national civilization. + +Ganivet has said truly that those who deny the Moorish influence show +themselves unable to comprehend the Spanish character. The Moorish +dominion ended, passing almost as swiftly as it came. But the spirit of +their exquisite civilization, perhaps the most exquisite that the world +has yet seen, moulded their Christian conquerors into its likeness. And +penetrating the Spanish character, and the daily life and habits of the +people, this influence remains; indeed, it is not overstating the truth +to say that to-day the pulse of the land still beats with Moorish life. + +It is in the gardens of Spain that the stranger will find best the +reflection of the Moorish spirit. The Moors made their cities places of +gardens and waters. The very names that they gave to their pleasure +places speak of joy. “The Meadow of Murmuring Waters,” “The Garden of +the Water-wheel”—what magic lingers in the suggestion of the words! + +Many of these old gardens have perished. Cordova has lost all except its +Orange Court and the old garden of the ruined Alcázar. In Seville the +parks are new. But in Granada the gardens have triumphed over the +devastations of the Christians; and it is one of the exquisite surprises +of the place to come suddenly on some fragment of a delicious garden +where the Moorish tradition lives almost undisturbed. + + [Picture: Walls and Towers of the Alhambra, on the banks of the Darro, + Granada] + +There are few cities, even in Spain, that hold so many gardens. There is +the Alameda of the Alhambra, the green garden which lies around the +Moorish citadel; the _paseos_ on the banks of the Genil, planted with +trees and cooled by fountains, the pleasure-grounds of the people; and +the Jardín de los Adarves, on the south terrace of the Alhambra hill, a +trellised retreat, with climbing vines and flowers, and splendid view of +Vega and distant snow-capped hills. Everyone will find in these gardens +something that makes special appeal to him. + +But the most exquisite haunt even among the gardens of Granada is the +Generalife—the summer palace of the Moorish Princes, at the foot of the +Cerro de Sol, and to the east of the Alhambra hill. Here you have the +charm of small and perfect gardens laid out in terraces, with great +clipped cypresses, myrtles, and orange-trees, and the glow of flowers, +with that of the delicate Moorish architecture, of richly coloured tiles +and rare inscriptions. And everywhere is the joyous sound of flowing +water; the fountains are always playing, and water runs in channels made +of inverted tiles placed on the top of the balustrades. One of the +charms of Moorish life was the love of pure water. + +An old legend says that the name Generalife in Arabic signifies the +“house of love, of dancing, and of pleasure,” and, further, that it was +built by one Omar, a passionate lover of music, that he might retire here +and entirely give himself up to that amusement. The story is probably +untrue, and the name, as the chronicles state, is a corruption of the +Arabic “Djennat-al’-Arif,” which means “the garden of Arif.” But romance +so often is more beautiful than fact. One likes to think that this +exquisite palace and gardens were designed as a place wherein a man could +give his soul to music. + +“Charming place! Thy garden is embellished with flowers which repose +upon their stalks and exhale the sweetest perfumes; fresh air agitates +the orange-trees and spreads abroad the sweet odour of its blossoms. I +hear voluptuous music joined to the rustling of the leaves of thy grove. +Everything around is harmonious, green, and flowering.” + +Such is part of the inscription upon the arcades of the Garden of the +Pond, and how perfectly the rich imagery of the words conveys the charm +of the garden! The Generalife has kept more than any place in Spain its +Moorish character, combining in its palace and garden, in spite of decay +and alterations, much of that full suggestion of all beautiful things +that was their gift. + +In Spain dancing is something more than an amusement; it is a serious art +closely connected with religious ritual, which expresses, perhaps as +nothing else does, if we except the bull-fight, the true spirit of the +people. The dances are Eastern in their origin; they are dramas of love, +and especially those of the Gitanas, who have adopted and kept living the +ancient dances of the country. + +Seville, the joyous southern capital, is the city that has given its own +spirit to the most beautiful of the Spanish dances. Granada and Malaga +are also centres of dancing, and sometimes good performances may be +witnessed at Madrid. But the best _cafés cantantes_, where the true +Spanish dancers perform, are hidden in back streets where the foreigner +does not readily find them. These dances are national ceremonies and +belong to the people, and are far different from the dances, often quite +modern in character, that are given at the popular _cafés_. The +varieties are numerous, and the names are often confusing. Many dances +date back far into antiquity, while almost all owe their special +character to Arabic influences. + + [Picture: A Glimpse of Granada from the walls of the Generalife] + +The _bolero_ is the most aristocratic dance. “What majesty, what +decorum, what distinction!” cried Valera, speaking of the dances of Ruiz +and his daughter Conchita. It is danced by a man and a woman, and is a +kind of drama between them; both use castanets. It is a slow dance of +deliberate grace and fascination. The _jota_ is danced by a woman alone. +This dance, too, is a love drama of intense passion, but always decorous, +always beautiful. Both these dances are native to Andalusia, the +province of Spanish dancing. Outside of Andalusia, the most famous dance +is the Aragonese _jota_. This is danced by a man and a woman, and the +castanets are used. But the drama is different, the movements are +quicker and less varied, and there is great vivacity. It seems a kind of +combat between the two dancers; it is more a drama of battle than a drama +of love. + +But the most typical of all Spanish dancing is the _flamenco_ dance of +the Gitanas, which you will see best at Seville; it is the most primitive +and the most African of all. A group of performers sit in a semicircle +upon a small stage. The spectators all take their part by a rhythmic +clapping of hands and stamping feet. One of the performers—generally a +man—plays the guitar and sings an accompanying song. A dancer rises +suddenly, spontaneously, as if seized by the passion of the music. She +wears a long dress, usually of white, and a beautiful Manilla shawl is +folded on her shoulders. How can one describe the dance which is so +unlike all other dances? It is not a dance of the feet; every part of +the body plays its share in the performance: the swaying figure, the +beckoning hands, the glittering smiles that come and go in the dark +eyes—all contribute. The dancer is alive to her fingertips, and every +expressive movement has the Spanish simplicity of emphasis. At first the +movement is slow, then faster, and now increases and rises to a passion +of intensity. And all the time the spectators are actively +participating, their emotion rising with the dancer’s emotion; their +rhythmic clapping and beating of feet grows louder as the drama proceeds, +and cries of long-drawn-out _oles_ stimulate the dancer. The dance ends +as unexpectedly as it began: a pause comes, and the swaying body is +still, as if languor had followed on strong emotion. There is silence; +the dancer goes back to her seat. Then the singer starts a new song, the +clapping is taken up again, another dancer comes forward, and a new drama +is acted. + + [Picture: A group of dancers at the “Feria,” Seville] + +The foreigner who would understand Spain must see these dances; then he +will come to know yet another characteristic of the people—their love of +strong, quite elemental sensation. It is this that so often makes them +seem cruel to us. + +This delight of the Spaniard in all emotions that make sharp appeal to +the senses explains the existence of the bull-fight, the national sport, +which is so much a part of the life of the people that, although to-day +there is a widespread movement to repress, or at least to mitigate, its +cruelty, it seems unlikely that its real attraction will cease. + +It is impossible not to condemn the bull-fight; its cruelty cannot be +denied. It is brutal, as the most cultivated Spaniards themselves admit. +And yet there are certain facts that the stranger must remember before he +condemns. The bull-fight, like the dance, is a solemn ritual rather than +an amusement. The combats take place on Sunday, while the most famous +form part of the ceremonies of Holy Week. Part of the proceeds are +devoted to some religious object—a charity or other holy work. Almost +all the great bull-rings have a chapel where the fighters first prepare +themselves in prayer and partake of the Holy Eucharist. To the foreigner +it may seem that this union of religion and bull-fighting is incongruous, +but to most Spaniards it does not appear so. + +The bull-fight is the Spaniard’s strongest, most characteristic +intoxication. The poor man will sell his shirt to buy a ticket for the +bull-ring. They are a profoundly serious people, but every incident +connected with their national sport arouses them into vivid life. I +remember on one occasion, when travelling in Andalusia in an open +third-class railway carriage, the train passed a _vacada_, or +training-place of bulls to be used in the ring. The effect was magical. +These quiet, sombre people sprang upon the seats, some leaned far out of +the windows; they gesticulated, they waved their sombreros, they called +the names of the bulls, they cheered, they shouted. Never had I seen the +decorous Spaniard so strongly moved. + +The _toreros_ are the idols of the Spanish people. You will see them +best at Seville, in their faultless tight _majo_ costumes and frilled +shirts, fastened with diamond studs, and diamond rings on the fingers of +their faultless hands, and with their pigtail fastened upon the top of +their heads. There is something splendidly attractive in their perfect +bodily equipoise, with every muscle trained to faultless precision. The +_toreros_ have in the highest degree strength, agility, and grace. Even +women have been _toreros_ and Madame Dieulafoy tells of one _Doña_, Maria +de Gaucin, who left her convent to become a _torero_; then, after gaining +renown throughout Spain for her exploits in the bull-ring, returned to +the practices of religion. Only in Spain would such division of a life +be thought perfectly natural, perfectly seemly. + + [Picture: The old town of Ronda] + +The bull-fight was established in Spain in the eleventh or twelfth +century, and is of Moorish origin. The bull would also seem to have come +first from Africa. But the spectacular and ceremonial character of the +contest is certainly adapted from the Roman combats, the influence of +which had survived among the old Spaniards. + +Every Spanish town has its Plaza de Toros. Here, and especially at +Seville during the Easter festival, you will see all the population of +the place, a motley crowd of men and women. Señoras in white lace +_mantillas_ and white dresses, and their cavaliers, the gay _Sevillanos_, +side by side with the _gente flamenca_ and the _cigarreras_ in lovely +shawls, their hair elaborately arranged, with a white flower showing +against its blackness; for the bull-fight is a democratic institution, +where the greatest foregather with the people. The patience of the vast +crowd is perfect as they await the advent of the appointed hour. All are +animated with a suppressed seriousness, the prelude to violent emotion +which is so characteristic of the Spaniard. + +The entire performance is carried out with an elaborate ceremony of +detail which the stranger often finds difficult to appreciate. The +President enters his _palco_. Then follows the _paseo de la cuadrilla_, +the processional entrance of the bull-fighters, grave, handsome men, in +their beautiful and varied costumes of yellow and violet, gold and green, +or whatever the chosen colours may be. The procession moves slowly +across the ring; there is no haste. Each one in turn gravely and with +perfect grace salutes the President, who then throws down the key of the +bulls’ den, the _toril_. In a few moments the first bull rushes into the +arena. The combat has begun. + +The fight is divided into three acts. In the _Suerte de Picar_, the +first, the _picadores_, dressed in round felt hats, short cloaks, and +long leggings of plaited steel, and mounted on blindfolded horses, in +turn receive the charge of the bull, thrusting him aside with their long +pikes. Sometimes they come to close quarters, a _picador_ is thrown, his +horse is wounded, or perhaps killed. The shouts of the now excited crowd +show that this is the critical moment. The _picador_ rises quickly, +another horse is brought, while the _chulos_ divert the attention of the +bull by dexterous waving of their brightly coloured cloaks. When the +bull is sufficiently wearied—for this is the object of the first act in +the drama—the President gives a signal, and the _picadores_ retire. + + [Picture: The Falls of the Guadalevín, the Great Gorge and New Bridge, + Ronda] + +The _banderilleros_ take their place. This is the _Suerte de +Banderillear_, the second act, the object of which is to inflame the +bull. The _banderilleros_ place the barbed darts, or _banderillas_, in +the shoulders of the bull. Each is about 2 feet long, of curious device, +and ornamented with long coloured streamers. It is the most exciting +part of the combat. The utmost skill, agility, and daring, are needed to +plant the darts. There must be no bungling, no second of hesitation. It +is now that the excitement of the spectators is really aroused, for a +sense of solemnity is given by the possible presence of death. A +_banderillero_ may be seen to seize hold of the lashing tail, swing +himself along the beast’s side, and plant his dart between its horns. It +is done with surprising skill, with delight, and with passion; and the +applause of the spectators swells to a great roar, which refuses to be +silenced. + +The last act is the _Suerte de Matar_. The chief _espada_ comes into the +ring; to him belongs the honour of the death. First he approaches the +President, and solemnly dedicates to him the slaying of the bull. He is +armed with a short Toledan blade and the _muleta_, a small red cloth. +Calmly he walks towards the bull. And now a silence falls upon the +hitherto raging crowd. It is the moment of pause, of silent waiting for +the most violent emotion of all. First he plays with the now infuriated +and wearied beast. There is still no hurrying. The Spaniard wishes +always to gain the very utmost out of his sensations. The bull is teased +by the waving of the red cloth, and in this way is made to take the +proper position for the death-blow. The _espada_ watches his moment; +then, with unerring decision, he buries the blade in the bull’s neck +between the shoulders, and walks slowly to the President’s box, with +absolute composure and a dignity that is almost defiant. Deafening +cheers greet him, rewards and costly tributes are thrown, and he is +presented with a great bouquet of flowers. How Spanish is this ending, +which rewards the slayer with flowers! + +It is over; the ring is cleared, sand is raked over the pools of blood, a +new bull is driven forward, again the drama begins. Six times the scene +is re-acted, and a seventh bull, a _toro de gracia_, is added at the +first bull-fight of the year. + + [Picture: Spanish Dancers, Seville] + +In this repetition of emotions, this delight in heaping up sensations, we +have a very real revelation of the Spanish temperament. And this +explains the devotion of the people to the bull-fight. When we come to +estimate the Spanish character, we shall find that the Spaniard has the +qualities which belong to all primitive people. The sentiment of +sympathy with suffering is essentially a modern one. The Spaniard is +still the Moor, his ancestor. He is cruel because he is indifferent to +pain, his own or another’s. + + + + +CHAPTER II—THE SPANISH PEOPLE + + +The Character of the People—Their Quietness and Sobriety—Their +Cruelty—This the Result of their Stoicism and Indifference to Pain—These +the Qualities of a Strong and Primitive People—The _Feria_, the Holiday +of the Sevillians—Religion: its Place in the National Life—The Dance of +the _Seises_—Holy Week in Seville—Religious Processions—The _Pasos_. + +The character of the Spaniard, as one gradually learns to know it, not +from a brief visit spent tourist fashion in hurrying from one city to +another, but from living among the people, sharing their common life and +entering into their spirit, is a very positive character. And this +character, though at first seemingly full of contradictions, is one of an +almost curious uniformity, strongly individual, and not easy to +comprehend. + +A significant quality of the Spaniard is his quietness—the grave +enjoyment which he retains even under the influence of strong emotion, +such as we have seen in the dances and in the national pastime of the +bull-fight. His countenance will keep its accustomed gravity even whilst +his mind is inflamed. The Spaniard has what one would like to call an +active languor. On the one hand we find in his character a deeply rooted +dislike, which is almost a contempt, for useful work, with, on the other +hand, a reserve of untiring energy and a special aptitude for violent and +emotional action. + +In Spain work is not the highest aim of life. This is the reason why +time is of so much less value. It explains the tendency to delay +everything to a convenient to-morrow—that annoying _mañana_ with which +the Spaniard cheerfully responds to every demand. + +One of the first lessons I learnt in Spain was the unimportance of time. +We were staying in a country village off the beaten tracks of travel, and +had to drive a long distance to meet the train which was to take us to +Madrid. When we arrived at the small wayside station, we found we had +three hours to wait. There was no waiting-room, no refreshments could be +procured, and it was raining and very cold. I felt angered at the +discomfort and waste of time; but the Spaniards who were our companions +accepted the delay with true philosophy. They were genuinely distressed +at my annoyance—the Spaniard is always courteous to the foreigner—but +they did not at all share it. They wrapped their great cloaks around +them, and walked up and down the wind-driven platform for three hours, +calmly indifferent. + +I understood their acceptance of life on its own terms, which is the very +root of the Spanish character, at once its strength and its weakness, the +cause of its beauty and of its defects. + + [Picture: The Cave of the Doves, “El Chorro,” between Boladilla and + Malaga] + +A charge of cruelty is often made against this people. But the cruelty +which one meets so often, and especially in the treatment of animals, is +almost always misunderstood by the stranger. It arises from a certain +hardness of fibre, which makes the Spaniard indifferent to pain. And if +he is cruel to others, the Spaniard is also cruel to himself. I know of +no people who are as little careful of personal comfort. Stoicism may be +said to be the religion of the true Spaniard. Every form of asceticism +has been practised by him, and to-day there exist brotherhoods whose +members flagellate themselves with special instruments made of sharp +broken glass till the blood flows, just in the same way as the +_banderilleros_ prick the bulls in the ring. + +The Spaniards have always shown an interest in blood and a satisfaction +in shedding it. Two centuries ago it was a common custom for lovers to +scourge themselves in the streets during Holy Week, to win admiration +from their mistresses. The Spaniard still gains the approval of his +women by feats of daring, and the bull-fighter is the idol of the people. + +We find an expression of this insistence on pain in the Spanish pictures +and sculpture. Artists in no other country have depicted the sufferings +of the Christ and the tortures of martyrs with the same delight of +detail. I recall the pictures of Zurbaran and Ribera, or those agonized +images of the Christ by Juan Juni at Valladolid, in which sorrow is +carried to a distortion that is almost caricature. The Spaniard accepts +these images; he clothes them with little embroidered skirts and lace +petticoats with the _naïveté_ of a child; to him they are the most +poignant expression of his religious emotion. + + [Picture: The Limestone Quarries, Almeria] + +It would seem, then, that in the Spanish character there is not only an +indifference to pain, but an actual delight in the emotion of suffering, +which prevents an understanding of cruelty. It is the temperament that +makes the martyr and the fanatic. I remember on one occasion some boys +were torturing a young bird, which one boy held by a string tied to its +leg. I offered to buy the bird for a few _reales_. At once it was given +to me, and I set it free. But what was the result? In less than an hour +some twenty birds had been caught, fastened to strings, and were brought +to me. No payment was asked: the birds were a gift to the foreign +señora. The boys had not understood at all that I disliked their +cruelty; they thought that I had a strange fancy for captive birds. + +The incident is characteristic of what the stranger will meet constantly +in Spain. Your driver will flog his mules with the butt-end of his +whip—yes, beat them till they fall. If you remonstrate, he will smile, +rarely will he be angry; but never will you make him understand. Once +during a long drive I gained respite for a team of mules at the cost of a +bribe of two pesetas. I know that driver pitied my foolishness. + +Yet, let there be no mistake, the Spaniard is not without the tenderer +emotions of humanity. And, after all one has heard of Spanish cruelty, +it is interesting to note the signs of gentleness and kindness that meet +one in many unexpected ways. I have never seen any other people so +friendly with one another. The home life of the people, be they rich or +poor, is charming, with a standard of kindness that compares favourably +with that of other countries. Domestic crimes are comparatively +infrequent. The Spaniard is known for his considerate love for children, +and the relations between parents and children are universally happy. In +no country does less stigma fall upon a child who is born out of wedlock. +One of the strongest impressions I gained during my stay in the Peninsula +was the happiness of the charming children. It is noteworthy that the +first hospital for the insane was established in the country of the +bull-ring. The practice of allowing counsel to poor persons in criminal +cases is of much older origin than in our own country. The pest of +beggars is another witness to this softness in their character; the +Spaniard feels that it is inhuman to refuse alms. + + [Picture: A Gipsy house at Coria] + +It is when the Spaniard comes into personal relationships that his real +native kindness appears. For his friend he is ready to sacrifice his +life—a quality which Strabo notes as belonging to the ancient Iberians. +You will often meet with a curious mingling of cruelty and kindness in +the same individual. I recall a characteristic incident. An artist +friend was sketching in a small town in the province of Old Castile, and +upon one occasion was greatly annoyed by a lad who threw sand upon the +wet canvas, thereby showing, I suppose, his hostility to the foreigner, +whose actions he did not understand and therefore disliked. The artist, +rather than contend with his rudeness, left the spot and returned home. +By mistake a small purse-bag was left behind. The boy found it, and +followed with it to the hotel. What a change! There was no rudeness +now; instead, a real pleasure in rendering a service. Smiling and +bowing, the persecutor of half an hour before returned the purse with the +fine Spanish courtesy, refusing to receive any reward. + +It is these seemingly contradictory impulses that puzzle the stranger in +estimating the Spanish character. But the truth is, that the deep-rooted +conservatism of the race has kept alive in the Spaniard of to-day the +qualities that belong to primitive peoples. Mr. Havelock Ellis, the +English writer who has best understood the Spanish spirit, says truly: +“The Spaniard is, and remains to-day, in the best sense of the word, a +savage.” The Spanish nature is elemental, and responds to all the +emotions that touch the elemental passions: love, religion, war—these are +the emotions that stir life into action. + +Much of what is characteristic of the life of the people may be studied +in the _Feria_, the great spring festival, which is held at Seville each +year in the middle of April. From all parts of Spain people flock to the +southern city, and for three days at this national picnic they make +holiday together. In the Prado de San Sebastian streets of wooden +pavilions, or _casetas_, have been erected, consisting mainly of one +room, which is furnished with chairs, a piano, and beautiful flowers. +Here on each day the families of Seville assemble in their own _caseta_, +and pass the joyous hours in receiving guests, dancing, guitar-playing, +and singing. One side of the _caseta_ is entirely open, so that all can +see the company within. The women and the older men sit upon the chairs; +the _majos_, in faultless costume, stand about, each smoking his +cigarette; the children, brilliant, fascinating little people, play in +front. Some of the women, and many children, are dressed in the old +Andalusian costume, with black lace over bright yellow silk; all the +women wear _mantillas_ upon their hair. Fans are fluttering everywhere; +there is a soft tinkling of guitars. Dark eyes flash upon you, and red +lips part in smiles as you stand and look within. It is a family party, +carried out with a publicity that seems strange to us, but is perfectly +natural to the Spaniard. At the _Feria_ everyone is accepted as a +friend. Someone clicks a pair of castanets, and a beautiful girl gets up +to dance the _seguidilla_, that most graceful dance which every +Andalusian child is taught. The effect on the company is magical. How +animated they are! every face is smiling. Their chairs are drawn in a +circle around the dancer, whom they applaud with rhythmic clapping. It +is the _seguidilla_, with its gracious memories, which gives life to the +_Feria_. + +In another part of the fair the Gitanas have their tents. All the women +from Triana and the Macarena are here, amusing themselves simply and +quietly with a joyous decorum. Some of the Gitana women are remarkably +handsome; all have superb hair, and the gay colours of their dresses give +brightness to the scene. There is dancing here, too, the _flamenco_ +dances, with slow movements and passionate suggestion of love, and the +noise of the constant clapping of the spectators. + + [Picture: Interior of the same house at Coria] + +On the outskirts, in the open space of the Prado, are flocks of sheep and +goats, and droves of bullocks, horses, mules, and donkeys, tended by +picturesque herdsmen and muleteers in the dress of the several provinces. +_Caballeros_ ride their horses up and down to show off their points. The +vendors haggle and chaffer with the buyers, for all the animals are for +sale; but all is good-natured, there is no quarrelling. At intervals +there are little _ventas_, or refreshment booths, where the people buy a +_refresco_. Families are camping and picnicking on the grass. Others +are seated on chairs arranged in a circle around the couple who rise to +dance. At a little distance there are swings for the children. The +noise is great—the Spaniards delight in loud sounds—concertinas and +barrel-organs, the sounds from the castanets of the dancers, and the loud +clapping of hands, mingling with the cries of the _aguadores_ and the +vendors of shell-fish and chestnuts. Here, too, everyone is happy; but +you will not see one drunken or quarrelsome person; among all the people +there is a friendly, good-natured content. + +“Seville,” it has been said, “lights up for a _fiesta_ as a face lights +up with a smile.” And evening is the time at which the _Feria_ looks its +best. The great iron tower in the centre of the park is brilliantly +illuminated, and the avenues of _casetas_, radiating in every direction, +are softly lighted with thousands of fairy lights, electric lamps, and +Chinese lanterns; in each a different scheme of colour prevails. The +soft warm air is fragrant with the scent of the blossoming orange-trees. +In each _caseta_ there is a dancer, and from the open doors eager faces +look out upon the passers-by. The sound of castanets and guitars is +heard in every direction. The broad walks are filled with people, an +unending stream, slowly walking up and down. This is the true Spain, +idle, joyous, brilliant, happily content, making the very most of life +with the fine acceptance that is the gift of the Sevillians. + +It is this spirit which the Spaniards have brought into their +religion—the understanding that joy is a part of worship. And although +Seville is not a religious city as Toledo and Valencia are, it is here +that the splendid ceremonies of the Church are carried out with more +detail and spectacular appeal than in any city in Spain. The Sevillians +have made the ritual of their religion a part of their life’s enjoyment. + +Nothing shows this better than the strange mediæval custom of the +_Seises_, the sacred dances which take place in the cathedral on the +Feast of the Immaculate Conception, and on that of Corpus Christi. The +sixteen _seises_, or choristers, dance in front of the high-altar, using +castanets and singing in the most charming and graceful minuet fashion. +It is perfectly dignified, perfectly religious, and the young dancers +perform without a suspicion of levity. There is something specially +characteristic of the Spaniards’ attitude towards religion in thus making +dancing a part of the sacred ritual of the Church. Just as the +bull-fight is carried out as a solemn ceremony, so dancing, the people’s +strongest passion, finds its place in the service of the house of God. +To the stranger it is an astonishing ceremony, a witness to the pagan +element that lives so persistently in the Spaniard—the cause of those +sharp contrasts that surprise us in his character. + +All Spain gathers in Seville to take part in the great festival, which is +held during the _Semana Santa_, the Holy Week of Easter. It is the +people’s holiday as truly as is the _Feria_; both are “holy days.” + + [Picture: A Village “Pasos.”] + +The most characteristic of the ceremonies are the religious processions, +which take place on each day during the week, and all day long on Good +Friday. At Granada and many other towns the Church processions have been +given up; but at Seville the custom remains unchanged from the Middle +Ages. The whole city is given up to the _pasos_, vehicular traffic is +stopped, all business ceases. Everyone, from the Archbishop and the +_Alcalde_ downwards, assembles in the public squares, where seats are +erected, in the streets, or in the balconies and windows of the houses, +to witness the performance. It is an amazing sight, this multitude +gathered to watch the procession of an image! But the Spaniards give +themselves up to it with simple abandonment. Nothing seen in Spain will +give so true an impression of the part that religion takes in the life of +the people. The stranger will feel himself carried back at least three +centuries. + +The _pasos_, which are carried in these processions, consist of a single +sacred figure, or a group of figures illustrating a scene from the +Passion. Many of the statues have real beauty; they are the work of +Montañés, the seventeenth-century sculptor, whose polychrome carvings +express so perfectly the Spanish religious spirit. Borne by twenty-five +invisible carriers, at an extremely slow pace, the sacred groups pass +through the streets of the city. Each _paso_ is followed by the members +of the _cofradia_, or brotherhood, to whom the statue belongs. They are +dressed in the costume of their Order, the long gown, usually of white +cloth, with the peaked cowl covering the head. Each brother carries a +lighted candle. Companies of acolytes, white and scarlet robed, swing +censers and chant anthems. A line of gendarmes, in capes of vivid red, +march in advance to clear the way. Women clad in white walk beside them; +barefooted, they are fulfilling a vow. The sacred figures, and +especially the Virgin, to whom the chivalrous Spaniard has always +rendered his homage, are vested in rich gowns of silk and velvet, +enriched with jewels of such great price that a soldier with drawn sword +walks on guard behind. The platforms on which the statues rest are +thickset with lighted tapers and laden with flowers. + + [Picture: A rope and matting factory, Seville] + +The slow procession proceeds through the densely crowded streets and +squares to the accompaniment of solemn music, with which mingle the +_vivas_ and _bravas_ of the spectators. Before the doors of the City +Hall there is a pause to greet the _Alcalde_, who rises from his velvet +chair. Then the procession passes onwards through the reverent, +bare-headed crowd to the cathedral. The women, black-robed and with +black _mantillas_, in the balconies, where rows of lamps and candles +burn, rise in reverence. One and another sings an ardent petition, with +eyes fastened on the sacred figure. Now a young girl presses forward in +the crowd with a gift of marigolds, which are placed at the Virgin’s +feet. + +There is a completeness and simplicity in the worship, the great crowd, +rich and poor, women and men, all moved by one strong emotion. And the +spell of the strange scene penetrates the spirit; one forgets its pagan, +mediæval childishness; one begins to understand how these outward symbols +have had power to hold the faith of the people. + +The cathedral is the chief centre of all the ceremonies; and the vast +edifice—Santa Maria is the largest Gothic church in the world—which is +not too vast for its part in the great functions, is seen best on these +days of festival. The gold and silver plate, all the splendid Church +treasures—silver candelabra beyond counting, jewelled censers, chalices, +and crosses, golden keys and diamond stars, Arfe’s rich and delicate +monstrance—have been laid out by the side of the great altar. Crimson +drapings cover the walls; the priests wear their _terno celeste_, +vestments of blue and gold. The great doors are wide open, and all day +long the people come and go in endless procession, as the pageants of the +_pasos_ arrive and then depart. The Mass, with its elaborate ritual, is +sung to the Spanish music of Eslava; the Sacrament is borne in priestly +procession. Each day has its special function. On Palm Sunday is the +consecration of the palms and olive branches; on Maundy Thursday the +typical Spanish ceremony of the washing of feet takes place; on Good +Friday there is the Passion Sermon; and on Saturday the _Cirio Pascual_, +the great candle, 25 feet high and 770–880 pounds in weight, is +consecrated. + + [Picture: Sacristy of the Convent of the Cartuja, Granada] + +All the days the cathedral is filled with relays upon relays of +worshippers: some kneel upon the bare stones, one by one or in groups +together; some stand; others sit on the chairs they have brought with +them. The black dresses and _mantillas_ of the women mingle with the +bright colours of the peasants who have come from the country districts. +There is something social, well-nigh domestic, in the scene. In the +intervals between their devotions the women chatter loudly together and +use their fans; children play about as if in their own homes; even dogs +and cats are there, quite unmolested. The Spaniard is wholly at home in +his church, which to him is so much a part of the world and his daily +life that he can talk, eat, sleep, and transact business, there. + +As the week advances an indescribable emotion grows, which culminates on +the Saturday, when, at ten o’clock in the morning, the Veil of the Temple +is rent in twain. The great purple curtain, which has hung in front of +Roldan’s beautiful Christ upon the Cross, is sharply drawn by hidden +cords. The signal is given; all the bells of the city ring out joyously, +the great organ peals forth jubilees of victory, _Gloria in Excelsis_ +soars out in choral chants. It is the moment of supreme emotion. The +multitude falls upon its knees before the great symbol of the +accomplished Passion. + +This is the end of the Holy Week ceremonies. The women put off their +black, and now appear in white lace _mantillas_ and dresses predominantly +white. In the afternoon the children’s festival of the lambs takes +place. Then on Easter Sunday the bull-fight is celebrated. + + + + +CHAPTER III—TOWN LIFE IN SPAIN + + +Toledo, the Type of the Spanish City—Its Architectural Monuments—The +Intermingling of Arab and Christian Art—Granada—The Alhambra—Cordova—The +Great Mosque—Seville, the City of Pleasure—The Special Character of the +Streets—The _Cafés_ and Shops—The Typical Andalusian—The Parks—The +_Sevillanas_—Spanish Courtship—The Houses of Seville—The _Patios_—The +Home-life of the Sevillians—Spanish Hospitality. + +Toledo has kept, perhaps, more than any city in Spain its mediæval +aspect, combining in its buildings of so many civilizations that here +remain together; churches, convents, mosques, Gothic walls and ornaments, +Moorish houses and steep passages—everywhere the Moorish design is +evident—and a great Christian cathedral—much of what is most typical of +the genuine Spanish civilization. I know of no city that can give a more +poignant emotion than Toledo. + +A great town, set on its rough and elevated rock of granite in the midst +of the blue Sierra, closely ringed by the deep brown water of the Tajo, +it is like no other city in the world. The national character, strong +and aloof, passionate and brilliant, and the nation’s history, are here +epitomized before you. And coming to the city, as the stranger does, +from Madrid, blatant, noisy, and modern, you will feel transplanted back +into an older world. + +Your first impression is of something extraordinarily austere. You seem +to have passed into silence and an almost painful absence of life. + + [Picture: Bridge of Alcantara and the Alcázar, Toledo] + +Toledo has remained as the Moors built it, a tortuous network of cobbled +alleys, as was most fitting in a city built upon rock, scorched by sun in +summer, and in winter swept with icy winds. The tall houses, rising in +straight upward lines like an arrangement of flat walls, are almost all +windowless on the side next to the street; where there is a window it is +barred and closely latticed, and the high gates are studded with iron +bosses and seem to forbid an entrance. No sight of the tree-shaded court +is given, as at Seville and Cordova. No one appears to go in and out of +these doors. Every house has the aspect of a prison; they all look as if +they had histories. + +There is the same absence of bustling modern life in the streets. In the +Calle del Comercio there are shops, but the wares are simple, having an +old-world air; only specially interesting is that of Alvarez, the best +maker of damascene. Even in the Zocodover, the centre of the city’s +business, all is sedate. You will see the water-carriers driving their +mules up the steep streets from the _vega_, a peasant whose beast is +laden with bright-coloured fruits and vegetables, or a group of goats +that supply the milk for the city. Yet often the streets seem deserted. +Only the companies of beggar children, who clamour incessantly around you +with their strange cry, “Un caukie sou! Un caukie sou!” remind you of +the life hidden in the sleeping city. + +Romance lives in Toledo. How many scenes and how many figures famous in +Spain’s history are recalled to our memory here. In no other city are +there the same number of architectural monuments. It is the chief centre +of the two great elements of Spanish civilization, the Christian and the +Arab, which makes it the place where the native art can best be studied. +Its cathedral and churches are furnished with the most perfect examples +of the industrial arts that have been produced in the Peninsula. El +Greco, who adopted Toledo as his home, expresses in his pictures, which +are one of the great possessions of the city, the Toledan spirit, which +is the spirit of Spain. The churches are the museums and +picture-galleries of the city; each one has its special appeal—its +precious mosaics, its ironwork, its glass windows, its cloisters, its +tombs, its beautiful carvings, or its pictures. + +In Toledo you understand the part that religion has taken in the history +of the country. You can hardly walk for five minutes in any direction +without coming upon some church; they stand at the corner of almost every +square, many are embedded between the brown walls of the houses. + +Its architecture shows a curious mingling of Arab, Gothic, and +Renaissance work. Christian and Moor overlap in many buildings, while in +others the art of each emerges isolated and independent. In the great +cathedral, the perfection of Gothic in Spain, we see nothing of the Moor, +while in the mosque of Bel-el-pardon, now called El Cristo de la Luz, and +in the ancient mosque in the Calle de las Tornarias, which has never been +converted to Christian uses, and retains its original character almost +unimpaired, we can with difficulty trace the Christian. But in other +buildings—the Sinagoga del Tránsito, for instance—we find the Moorish +traditions persisting with the Christian. And it is this intermingling +and absorption of the Moorish civilization with the Christian that gives +the real character to Toledo. Not only in the churches that once were +mosques does the passage of that great people remain, but in the houses, +austere without but beautiful within, in ancient palaces, in fragments of +gardens that still are places of rest, in embattled bridge and arch, in +exquisite harmonies of ornament that meet you everywhere, and, more than +all, we find this gracious influence in the spirit of the city itself. +Toledo is a living picture, a city in which each building is a voice that +speaks the history of Spain. + +In Cordova, and even in Granada, you are less sharply conscious of the +Moorish influence. + + [Picture: A street in Cordova, looking towards the Mosque] + +Time, the tamer of proud cities, has shadowed Granada, and to visit it is +to understand the desolation of conquest. The big hotels, placed so +incongruously near to the Alhambra, the clamorous guides, the beggars—all +the disagreeable conditions of a show city that trades on its past are +here. The efforts of recent years, that have developed a certain amount +of industrial activity, have not lessened this impression; for modern +enterprise seems strangely out of place in Granada, while the attempts to +improve the old city, such as the boulevard which has been driven through +its centre, have been left unfinished, with a result of added desolation. +In the air itself there seems something of decay, as the white mists from +the snowy heights of the Sierra Nevada rest shroud-like upon the _vega_. +Always you seem to catch an echo of that _ultimo suspiro del Moro_. +Ruins meet you everywhere; only the gardens in Granada have kept the +charm of their exquisite beauty. + +But there is one possession that conquest has left to Granada. It is to +see the Alhambra that everyone comes to the city, which is but a setting +to this Moorish jewel. And in the wooded garden, which lies around the +citadel, where nightingales sing, and flowers embroider the grass, and +the sound of running water is always heard, Granada, with its memories of +ruin, seems shut off as by a veil of quiet. The Alhambra is the supreme +pearl of Moorish art in Spain. It is bewildering in the appeal of its +strange beauty. It is like an invocation of an Eastern sorcerer, and as +you wander in its courts and halls the Thousand and One Nights seem true. +It is hardly conceivable that people lived here. You seem to understand +the brilliant dominion of the Moors in Spain. Only people with a history +like theirs could have reigned here; life lived here could but have been +a romance. + +The first impression you gather from the almost bewildering beauty is how +any building so seemingly fragile can be so strong. More than five +centuries have passed since the Alhambra was built. The repeated +earthquakes which did so much damage to Granada, and laid in ruin the +Renaissance palace of Charles V., have been powerless to destroy this +most delicate of architectural structures. To-day the Alhambra is kept +as a show-place, rejuvenated by the restorer. But even this has not been +able to dim the exquisite beauty of its courts and halls. And all the +jewelled weaving of ornaments, so difficult to grasp as being quite real, +have kept much of their splendour. It almost seems as though the common +superstition were true, and that the charm of Fate does guard the Red +Palace of the Moors. + +Cordova suffers from the memory of a past greatness which she cannot now +support. Gautier describes the city as _le squelette blanché et +calciné_. Cordova is a city in sleep; it rests in a quiet and beautiful +dream. Here the Eastern spirit of acceptance echoes with an unsilenced +voice. And this is why the sensitive stranger will find such perfect +satisfaction in the white city’s sleeping peace. Cordova was the town +that I most loved in Spain. + +But the tourist goes to Cordova in haste to visit the mosque. “Mezquita? +Mezquita?” Each Cordovese you encounter will surmise your desire and +direct you without question. They know that this imperishable building +is the one interesting lion in their city; it is to visit it that the +stranger comes to Cordova. + +The great mosque is a “wonder of the world,” the one perfectly satisfying +building left in the city of the Khalif, the Cordova that was known as +“the Bride of Andalusia.” This Church of the Divine Wisdom is the most +complete expression in building that the Moors have left in Spain, more +even than the Alhambra. It is one of the buildings that sum up the +genius of a people, the experience of a race, and the teaching of a +school. + +In the Outer Court of Oranges, where the water of the fountains and the +leafy shade of the orange-trees give delicious coolness from the blazing +heart of the sun, you will find the untiring charm and dreamy peace of +Oriental repose. You will see the women of Cordova gathered around the +great _almîda_ fountain with their red-brown pitchers to fill. You will +hear them chattering, telling the news of the day. Now and then will +come a sound of laughter as a youth, also with a vessel to fill, joins +them. The women will leave their pitchers and go into the mosque, one by +one or in groups together, for prayer is a part of the day’s work. +Figures move slowly up and down the cloisters; they are the Canons; each +will be smoking a cigarette. Groups of beggars crouch on the low stone +seats; they seem quite content in the sun. At the hour of service a band +of acolytes will come from the chancery and cross the court slowly to the +mosque, making a line of scarlet. And presently there will be a soft +sound of music as the boys sing the _coplas_ in honour of the Virgin. +Yes, the Court of Oranges is the most perfect spot in Cordova, to which +the stranger will come again and again. + + [Picture: Puerta Del Perdón (Gate of Pardon) the Mosque, Cordova] + +And when you go into the mosque itself, you will pass out of the +colonnades of orange-trees into colonnades of stone. Before you, around +you, everywhere, a forest of columns; and the canopy of curves above you, +formed by the double rows of crossed fantastic arches, will seem like the +interlacing branches of great trees. You will remember those enchanted +forests you dreamed of as a child. In truth, the architecture of the +mosque is like a living thing. The light, entering from above, plays +upon the arches, causing the red stones to gleam like fire; it frets the +thousand columns with moving patterns; it catches the glass mosaics in +jewelled brilliance, and makes a soft shining upon the marble pavement, +in which, as you look up and down, you see the long arcades reflected +until the distance dies away, mysterious and apparently unending. + + [Picture: The Queen’s Chamber, Alhambra, Granada] + +But words cannot describe this wonderful temple. The Moorish houses of +prayer will bring you a sense of joy: there is nothing of the mystic +suggestion of a Gothic cathedral—that of Seville, for instance; your +spirit is freed, not awed. The mosque was to the Moor this world as well +as the next. Here is the message of a race who understood the fulness of +living so well that they knew how to be joyously at home with their God; +and you realize more fully this lesson that the Moors gave to Spain, +which finds its expression to-day in the Spaniard’s happy familiarity +with his God. + +The stranger will now be ready to understand the special atmosphere of +Seville, for it is this frank acceptance of joy as the gold thread of +life which gives the southern city its charm. It is not shadowed with +memory like sleeping Cordova, nor is it overburdened with heroic +monuments like Toledo; there are no ruins such as give sadness to +Granada; it is still a living city whose blood is pulsing with the joy of +life lived in the sunshine. + +The buildings for which the city is famous all have this aspect of +joy—the Moorish Tower of Gold; the Alcázar, with its flower-crowded +gardens; the Giralda Tower, which is so old, and yet in its glittering +whiteness looks so new. There is a joyousness in these buildings that I +have never seen in the buildings of any other city. + +Then, Seville is alive commercially, and from its wharves among the +orange-trees which line the banks of its rivers vessels carry away its +wine, its oil, and its oranges. + +Seville has no rival among the cities of Spain. The old saying is still +true: “To him whom God loves He gives a home in Seville.” + +In Seville you are happy without seeking to be so, and when the stranger +has learnt this he has learnt the secret of the _Sevillanos_. + +Seville has the aspect of a city given up to a holiday humour; and if I +wished to describe the special quality of her happy people, I should say +that they understood perfectly the difficult art of loafing. You must be +happy to loaf successfully; that is why Northern people find it so +difficult. But not even the Venetians loaf as well as the _Sevillanos_. +Go to the Calle de las Sierpes, that narrow, animated street, the centre +of Seville’s joyous life; it is different from other streets; its gay +shops, with the double row of irregular, close-drawn windows that make a +sinuous line of light—certainly it is like a serpent. All day and far +into the night people saunter up and down its pavements or sit in one of +the many _cafés_, which are always filled with crowds of unoccupied +persons. You will seem to be watching a stage play. It is here that you +will see best the _majos_, or dandies of Seville; in springtime there is +sure to be a _matador_ strolling about in splendid costume, and women in +_mantillas_ saunter to and fro with their slow, graceful walk. + +In the _cafés_ you will have an opportunity of studying the typical +Andalusian. He wears a short coat and very tight trousers of a light +colour, and a felt hat with a broad, flat brim. He is always +clean-shaven, and his hair is cut very short. These men are often +handsome, and have a striking expression of strength; the faces, +dignified and always humorous, often resemble a comic actor. They are an +affectionate and friendly company, and their conversation echoes with a +deafening buzz. Notice the way in which they smoke their cigarettes, and +at intervals drink their _refrescos_ or sip from their small glasses of +_aguardiente_. Their enjoyment is so Spanish, so epicurean. And women +in the street fan themselves in the same way. All these people are happy +in the frank acceptance of life as it is. + +Inside the shops, which have doors wide open to the street, groups of +women sit to buy fans and _mantillas_. Making purchases is a delightful +game, in which all Spanish women excel. They smile, and chatter, and use +their fans, bargaining with delicious grace, while the salesman, +cigarette in hand, shrugs his shoulders and gesticulates. + +“But the _mantilla_ is dear, señor.” + +He throws out his hands in protest. + +“No, señorita; I am giving it away at ten _pesetas_.” + +“Is the quality good?” and she raises her eyebrows in bewitching +incredulity. + +“As good as God’s blessing.” + +And with mutual smiles and salutations the purchase is made. + + [Picture: Court of Lions, Alhambra, Granada] + +It is in the Paseo de las Delicias—the name will tell you of the beauty +of this park, with its orange-groves, hedges of blue aloes, and all +manner of tropical trees and flowers—that the ladies of Seville drive and +promenade each afternoon. The _majos_ cast languishing glances upon them +as they walk to and fro, and compliments are given: “Oh, Jesus, what an +air!” “Happy is the mother that bore thee!” “Your eyes are as runaway +stars that would rather shine in your face than in the heavens!” + +The _Sevillanas_ smile and chatter together; this play of love is a part +of the accustomed homage which is their due. + +There is a fascination about Spanish women not easy to define. Many of +them are not beautiful, but they are always graceful, and they all walk +beautifully. Then, most of them have the soft, expressive eyes which the +East has bequeathed to Spain. There is a quality and certain finish +about them which is unique; each one looks as if she understood that she +was a woman, and was very glad that this was so. Perhaps this is why +they are so attractive; this is the reason, too, why the old women are so +good-humoured, smiling, and gay. The indefinite unquietness that so +often characterizes English and American women is entirely absent. These +Spanish señoras, for their happiness, have kept the pagan content. + + [Picture: A group of workers in a “patio” at Seville] + +Much of what is characteristic of the home life of the Sevillians may be +gathered from the arrangement of their houses. They are all—the houses +of the poor as well as those of the rich citizens—built around the +_patio_, or shaded court, where palms, myrtles, pomegranates, and +jasmines grow, and the singing of caged birds mingles with the sound of +the playing fountains. Into this _patio_ all the windows of the house +open and the rooms lead. The doors are of open ironwork—no two doors are +alike—and often, even in the small houses, the grating is of exquisite +workmanship. One door, which also has an open _reja_, or grating, leads +into the street. It is in these _patios_ that the Sevillians spend their +lives, and this throwing open of their homes to the gaze of all who pass +in the streets is exactly characteristic of this simple, happy people. +Every afternoon and evening the youth of the family laugh and sing and +dance to the rattle of the castanets. It is against the _rejas_ that the +lovers stand at night and sing their serenades, and so persistent is +their patience that they have gained the title of “iron-eaters.” All +Andalusians are musical; even the beggar thrums his guitar, which he will +not part with for bread; to him music is a necessity, and bread a luxury +with which he can dispense. + +The Andalusian’s leisure is a perpetual source of delight. What +impresses the serious foreigner, who is so fortunate as to become an +inmate of a Sevillian home, is the mirth and courtesy of the family, who +all seem to enjoy endless leisure. Spanish households have a +pleasantness quite their own. The men are never preoccupied with +business; smoking cigarettes, they will pass hours chattering to the +women of the family, who spend the greater part of the day working their +beautiful embroideries. Few books are read, and talking is the chief +occupation. No people can talk like the Spaniards, and the excitement is +so spontaneous that often the conversation is carried on far into the +night. The slightest incident gains a poetic vividness from their +dramatic telling. Cigarette-smoking and talking are the only indulgences +which the Sevillians carry to excess. + +In their home life there is a love of visiting and a love of receiving +visitors. _Tertulias_, or parties, are frequent. But a Spanish party +differs materially from an English, in so far as there are no +refreshments—if we except the glasses of pure water and plate of +_azucarillos_ to sweeten the water, which are placed upon a side-table. +This is an instance of the sobriety of the Sevillians. The guests dance +and sing and talk incessantly, and are perfectly satisfied to enjoy +themselves without eating. + +The Spaniards are good hosts; the exquisite politeness which is natural +to them, even to those of the very lowest classes, causes them to lay +themselves out to entertain; boredom would seem to be unknown to the +native host and hostess. They make a pleasure of the slightest social +intercourse. I recall one occasion in Seville, when I asked permission +to enter the house of a poor woman in the Macarena quarter, in order that +my artist friend might make a drawing from her balcony of a building of +which a satisfactory view could not be obtained in the street. + +“My house is yours, señoras; make whatsoever use of it you will,” was her +answer to my request. And during the hours that my friend was at work +she put aside her occupations—she was a _planchadora_, and was ironing +with her assistants on our entrance—and gave herself up solely to help +and entertain us. A _refresco_ was brought to us; _calientes_, the +twisted doughnuts which are made in every Andalusian house, were fried +for us. Nor would she consent to receive the payment which we, with our +foreign stupidity, offered to her on our departure. No, the kindly, +cheery woman did not understand payment for hospitality. + +But it is during the days of festival at Easter and the _Feria_ that the +fine hospitality of the Sevillians is seen at its best. The houses are +filled to overflowing, and hospitality is taxed to a degree that only the +most perfect courtesy and good-nature could endure. Every corner is +received with a chorus of welcome, and embraced like a brother. Beds are +surrendered, even sofas are given up, and as fresh strangers arrive, +unable to gain accommodation in the crowded inns, mattresses, pillows, +and rugs are brought out of cupboards, and beds are made upon the floor. +All the members of the family, and even the tired servants, who are +always joyously ready to help, sit up, because there is literally +_nowhere_ for them to sleep. The difficulty of obtaining provisions in +these seasons of festivity is very great: the butcher cannot provide +meat; even bread is hard to buy. But the señora of the house is never +troubled; she tells you her woes, and then goes smiling to fry +_calientes_ and prepare other delicacies for the refreshment of her +guests. The constant Spanish courtesy never fails, and the foreigner who +happily chances among this crowded joyous party can but wonder. + + [Picture: “Las Planchadoras” (laundresses) at work, Seville] + + + + +CHAPTER IV—TOWN LIFE IN SPAIN (_continued_) + + +Madrid: its Situation—The Old Town—The Rastro—The New Town—The Puerta del +Sol—_Cafés_—The _Aguadores_—The Prado Park—The Theatre—Spanish +Children—The Museums—The Picture-galleries. + +The contrast is great from Seville to Madrid, which is less distinctly +Spanish than any city in the Peninsula. The royal capital, established +by the decree of Philip II., has the appearance of an accidental growth +on the harsh Castilian slopes. The climate is the worst of any town in +Spain. Madrid suffers all the oppressions of the sky—baked by fierce +summer suns, and chilled by the ice of treacherous winds. In point of +distance it is only some twenty leagues, in one direction, from Toledo, +and in the other from beautiful Avila; but in its life it is separated by +centuries from the old Spanish cities. It is the strangest +transformation to come from them into the eager, bustling life of the +modern capital. There are no antiquities here, no great memories, no +romance, nothing but what the people and the natural brightness in the +air give to it. + + [Picture: The Throne-Room, Royal Palace, Madrid] + +To stay in Madrid is to undergo the most absorbing fatigue. The +Madrileño lives with a speed that in Spain startles. The city never +sleeps, never stays its chatter; its inhabitants are apparently so full +of business that they turn day into night, yet no one seems to work. It +thus comes about that the lover of Spain, who has become used to the +untroubled content of happy Seville or the sleeping peace of Cordova and +Toledo, can with difficulty find himself at home in Madrid. + +Madrid is a city of contrasts. Treasures of art abound in its museum, +yet of all cities it is surely the least influenced by the spirit of +beauty and design. Its splendid bridge which gives entrance to the city +has been ridiculed with the question, “Where is the river?” It misses +all charm of environment; the city has no suburbs, and the country around +is barren and without trees and verdure. Yet the Madrileños cannot be +persuaded that any other city is its equal. It is a capital in +transition of a country in transition, and as such it must be regarded. + + [Picture: The Rastro Market, Madrid] + +The old part of the town, such as the Rastro and surrounding narrow +streets, where on each Sunday is held the market, the largest rag-fair in +the world, still bring one a sensation of living in the Middle Ages. The +wares are laid out in most primitive fashion in the narrow streets in +great piles; all kinds of antiquities are sold, as well as clothes and +wonderful peasant jewellery. The low stalls are piled up with flowers, +fruits, and vegetables, of all colours, in confused abundance. Women and +girls stand in groups of twos or threes, or sit beside their wares, +bundled in bright-coloured shawls, and all with kerchiefed heads. They +talk incessantly; they do not seem to care whether their goods are sold +or not, but they chaffer noisily over every sale. Some of the women have +perfectly-shaped faces with magnetic eyes that recall the East. It was +here once that I saw a _manola_, beautifully attired with a white +_mantilla_, silk shoes, gaily coloured dress and jewellery. She reminded +me of Goya’s pictures. + +Fine savage old men in tattered cloaks wander on the outskirts of the +market asking alms, and beautiful, bewitching children play their games +unchecked. + +But the Rastro is not the real Madrid. The modern town, with its aspect +of a city still in the making, so that one thinks not so much of what it +is as of what it may become, has grown up in the image of Paris, with +boulevards, wide streets, tall characterless houses and modish shops. It +is to be feared that this new Madrid will overgrow all that is left of +the old city. + +The Madrileños spend their lives in the streets and squares, almost all +of which are wide, clean, and well paved. The houses are ornamented with +balconies, the first of which, supported by pillars, forms in many parts +of the city a piazza where the inhabitants may walk under cover. The +Puerta del Sol, the largest and most animated _plaza_, and the centre of +Madrid, is the rendezvous of the idlers of the city. From eight o’clock +in the morning, and far into the night, it is thronged with groups of men +wrapped in their cloaks, which they wear to protect them from the +treacherous winds that sweep the city even in summer. Furnished with +several dozen cigarettes and coppers for _azúcar_ and water, they pass +the hours in endless talking. Politics form the chief subject of +conversation, and the progressive element in Spanish society discusses +here. + +Most of the _cafés_ are in this quarter, and they are always filled. +They are less attractive in their outside appearance than the _cafés_ of +Seville, but the refreshments served are excellent. The Madrileños, like +all Spaniards, drink more water than wine. In every street and _paseo_ +you see the picturesque _aguadore_, with his _cántaro_ of white or brown +clay and reed basket, containing glasses, sticks of _azucarillos_, and +oranges or limes. He has not changed from the day when Velazquez painted +him; he still wears a loose jacket of snuff-coloured cloth, breeches, +leather gaiters, and a peaked hat. + +Perhaps it is the climate which causes the Madrileños always to suffer +thirst. The _bebidas heladas_, or iced drinks, flavoured with orange, +lemon, strawberry, cherries, or almond, which are sold in every _café_, +are far superior to any English or American beverages. Spanish preserves +also deserve to be mentioned, and there is one variety, known by the name +“angel’s hair,” _cabello de angel_, which is delicious. + +Madrid is so much a modern city that at first the stranger hardly +realizes how pleasantly its inhabitants live. It is most fortunately +rich in well-shaded parks and beautiful green promenades. + +The Prado is the evening gathering-place of the fashionable Madrileños, +and the tree-shaded promenade, from seven o’clock onwards, affords the +most animated sight. An astonishing number of people collect here. In +the crossways which intersect the carriage-drive, all the families of the +city walk to enjoy the cool of the evening. The Madrileños are seen at +their finest here. The _majos_, resembling plates of fashion in their +tight, faultless clothes, stand about in groups admiring the ladies who +roll past in landaus, for carriages are essential to fashionable Madrid. +Some of the men ride the splendid Andalusian horses; with manes, long +sweeping tails, and gay trappings, like the horses that Velazquez +painted. The Madrileñas have adopted the costumes of Paris, and in +fashionable attire Spanish women always look badly dressed. The +_mantilla_ is, however, worn by most women, and even a plain face looks +beautiful in this fascinating head-dress. Like all Spanish women, each +Madrileña carries a fan, which is held open as a parasol to give shade +from the sun. A woman without a fan is unknown, and there is something +truly Spanish in the use these vivid, bewitching women make of them. The +Madrileña collects fans as an English lady collects jewels; she will +often own more than a hundred of various colours and patterns. + + [Picture: Mounting guard in the Plaza De Armas, Royal Palace, Madrid] + +During summer this outdoor parade in the Prado is in gay career until +midnight; and as the night advances the promenades are full of gay noise. +There are open-air concerts, and dancing takes place upon the open spaces +of grass. Around the stalls of the _refresco_ sellers, families are +seated talking gaily together. The greatest animation prevails. The +Madrileños never seem to be tired. The abandonment to happiness is +contagious, and the stranger will gain a sense of the joy of life as he +sees the ardent faces of men, women, and children, in whom mirth is never +vulgar, but as natural as speech. + +In the winter season the Madrileños visit the theatre, which every +Spaniard adores. Gautier writes that “long before Shakespeare the +Spaniards invented the drama.” Spain in the sixteenth and seventeenth +centuries produced an almost countless number of dramatic works, and a +passion for the drama still animates the people. Spanish women, as we +should expect, are first-rate actresses; they mark all shades of +character with appreciation and fine delicacy. It is interesting to note +that it was in Spain that women first played women’s parts, which in +England at the same period were entrusted to boys. + +The Teatro Real at Madrid is devoted to Italian opera, but at the more +popular Teatro Español, where La Guerrero, the Bernhardt of Spain holds +sway, there is an opportunity of witnessing the native dramas of Zorilla, +Hartzenbusch, and Tirso de Molina, or the modern society plays of +Echegaray and Galdos. The _sainete_, which takes the place of our +“curtain-raiser,” is usually comic, and those that are most popular are +adapted from the farces of Cervantes and Lope de Rueda. + +Even in the heat of summer the Madrileños visit the theatres, but at this +season the performances are limited to the popular _zarzuelas_, +operettas, four of which are given in each evening. + +Spanish children share the love of the theatre which belongs to their +elders. At the afternoon performances, which are given on every Sunday +and _fiestas_, half the house is occupied by child ticket-holders, whose +interest in the action of the piece is astonishing. They applaud with +cries of “_bonito_”; they ask questions, and the house is never still for +a single instant. + +Spanish children are already grown up when quite young, but they are the +most fascinating little people, at the same time natural and +self-conscious, with a sort of precocious winsomeness. Their bodies are +so full of energy that they give an impression of more vivid life than +the children of Northern countries. + +Nowhere are children happier and more loved than in Spain; the _niños_ +are the idols of their parents, and are universally treated with +indulgence. Yet the Spanish child is not spoilt, and the obedient spirit +is never lacking. Even the poorest child is taught to practise those +courtesies of life which in Spain are never forgotten. Ask a child his +name, and after the answer he will always add, “at the service of God and +yourself.” No child forgets the “_mil gracias_” with which a benefit is +accepted. I recall a small boy of peasant parentage who acted as my +guide upon one occasion, and who, when asked what gift he would like for +his service, answered: “I shall like best, señora, what pleases you most +to give me.” Even in the prayer which Spanish children offer at night +you find an expression of this quaint, delicious politeness: + + “Jesus, Joseph, Mary, + Your little servant keep, + While, _with your kind permission_, + I lay me down to sleep.” + +Those who have taught Spanish children all praise their intelligence. +During the first twelve years of life both girls and boys develop more +rapidly than other European children. + + [Picture: Children at play in the park of the Buen Retiro, Madrid] + +This precocious understanding is manifest in their games. Go to the +great park of the Buen Retiro, where during each afternoon the young +Madrileños are busy with their plays of bull-fighting, politics, and +flirtations. The children are attended by their nurses, who most +frequently are the _pasiegas_ from Santander, who wear the charming +national costumes of a pleated red petticoat with silver-lace border, +velvet bodice, and brightly coloured handkerchief as head-dress. + +_Al toro_ is the favourite game. The _niños_, using a mask for the bull +and the capes of red and yellow which are sold on the stalls, go through +the whole pantomime of the bull-ring with a vivid and quite grown-up +delight in the sharp appeal made to their sensations. Another group play +at soldiers, armed with sticks for swords and holding a great flag. +Other children, a little older, pass the time in flirtations. The boys +pay the extravagant Spanish compliments to little girls, or in the wooded +groves they sing the native melodies to the answering songs of the +nightingales. + +I talked with one young singer, who told me he had reached his fifteenth +year, and already was betrothed. I asked him if he were not too young. +“No, señora,” was his answer; “God is good, and my parents have money to +maintain us.” Afterwards he took up his song, that had something wild +and Oriental in its passionate notes. + +Among the excellences of Madrid must be counted her Museums. The Armeria +with its fine collection of arms and weapons, the Museo Naval, and the +Museo Arqueologico, furnish effective mementoes of the entire tragedy of +Spain’s history. Of her art galleries who can say praise enough? It is +only in Madrid that it is possible to realize, to the full extent of +their gifts and limitations, the artists of Spain. The Academia de +Bellas Artes and the Museo de Arte Moderno are rich in pictures. And it +is to see the Museo del Prado that the stranger visits Madrid; no +picture-gallery in the world contains a more wonderful collection of +masterpieces. + +It is a splendid art inheritance that is enshrined in the Prado. Spain +in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was closely connected with the +countries that were then the centres of art. The Catholic Sovereigns had +a fine taste for pictures, and to them we owe largely the collection of +the great works which, after the pictures of Velazquez, are the glory of +the Prado. + +The building, of pale brick and white stone, placed in a tree-shaded +park, is well designed, and on the whole well lighted. Externally it is +a model of what a picture-gallery should be. A bronze statue of +Velazquez stands before the entrance. This is fitting. The Prado is in +a very special way the home of Velazquez. No other nation has been so +supremely fortunate in preserving almost intact the work of her greatest +painter. No picture is wanting to the complete understanding of his +exquisite art. + +In the Prado there are masterpieces by the world’s great painters—by +Titian, by Rubens, by Raphael, by Albrecht Dürer, by Holbein, and how +many others? But even in the presence of these masters we seek +Velazquez. Here, too, Goya astonishes us with his vigorous and wonderful +art; there are admirable paintings by El Greco, by Ribera, by Murillo; +but we can see nothing but Velazquez. And the emotion of first seeing +these pictures is one of awe. We are not in the presence of an Old +Master, but of a painter who in his perfect art forestalled every modern +movement in painting. This is why Velazquez stands alone among artists. +And the lover of art journeys to the Prado that he may study his +pictures, as the pilgrim journeys to the shrine of his saint. + + + + +CHAPTER V—COUNTRY LIFE IN SPAIN + + +Life in a Spanish _Posada_—Spanish Peasants—The Toilers of the Field and +other Workers—The _Cigarreras_ of Seville—The _Kermesse_ in the Esclava +Gardens—The Love of Festivals—Easter Day in a Spanish Village—Third-class +Travelling—Wild Life in Spain—Fishing in the Country Districts. + +To know Spain it is not enough to visit the towns. It is when the +stranger leaves the beaten tracks of travel, and goes to the country +districts, where the outcome of modern progress is still unknown, that he +sees the life of ancient Spain almost unchanged. I know of no experience +more necessary to the understanding of the country and its people than a +lengthened stay in a village _posada_. The life, indeed, will be hard in +many ways, and it will be wise for the stranger to cultivate the stoicism +and indifference to personal comfort that characterize the Spaniards +themselves; but the experience is excellent, and the people you meet are +charming in their kindness and perfect courtesy. + +The _posada_ is the _casa huéspedes_, or house of hospitality for the +neighbourhood. The title is no misnomer, but stands for what the village +_posada_ truly is. To stay there is to find a new meaning in the word +“hospitality”; it is to know willing service, restrained by the fine +Spanish courtesy from offensive attention. + + [Picture: A bridge and country homes in the mountains of Northern Spain] + +It is more than probable that the first sight of the _posada_ may disturb +the stranger. It is built with a spacious vestibule. On one side of the +stone staircase, which gives entrance to the upstairs living-rooms, is a +dark wineshop, where the men of the village foregather to talk and drink +the black native wine; while the other side serves as the stable, in +which the mules, donkeys, oxen, and other animals belonging to the house, +have their home. Many odours cling about the dark staircase; the scent +of closely packed animals mingles with that of garlic, while the air +reeks with the fumes of rancid _aceite_, or oil—the never-to-be-forgotten +smell that belongs to every _posada_. The noise in the vestibule is +deafening and incessant; the men talk in loud voices which are piercingly +vibrant and metallic. Cackling hens, with maybe a fat black pig or +little woolly lamb, block the way as one climbs the staircase to the +living-room. + +This room is bare, but never dirty; the filth which I had been led to +expect from my experience of some of the smaller inns in the towns does +not exist in the village _posadas_. The large windows open on to wooden +balconies which look out on to the tree-shaded _plaza_. The walls are +freshly whitewashed, and the bare boards of the floor are scrubbed to +snowy whiteness by their daily scouring with sand; the curtains, too, +when there are any, are always white. Sometimes a few highly coloured +and amazing religious prints in black frames hang upon the walls, but, +fortunately, more often they are bare. The furniture is of the simplest +description—a large table, bare of any cloth, that fills most of the +room, wooden chairs and a Spanish press, a great cupboard which holds the +linen of the family. The beds are placed in small alcoves which lead out +of the living-rooms; and these beds are always comfortable, with spotless +linen, embroidered, lace-trimmed, and brought from the lavender-scented +chest. There is no fireplace in the living-room, and if, as often +chances in winter and early spring, the weather is cold, the only heat is +gained from the _brasero_, whose charcoal ashes give the very faintest +glow of warmth. The Spaniards accept cold without murmur; they wrap +themselves in their cloaks, and wait till God sends out the sun. + + [Picture: The Village Posada at Matarosa] + +The _posada_ is ruled by the señora. She sways a rod of iron over her +husband, relatives, servants, guests, and the arrangements of the house, +being full of energy and the vigour of character that is common to +Spanish women even in old age. She is the characteristic type of the +Spanish woman of the people, her face a formidable mass of wrinkles; +_jamona_, or stout in body, but of surprising agility; she is witty, +smiling, and contented. From break of day until late evening she bustles +about, shouting orders as she goes from one task to another, yet she +seems never hurried, never overburdened. How happy she is if her efforts +are appreciated and her guests enjoy the fare she has provided! how her +face saddens and clouds if any dish is sent from the table uneaten. +“Mas, mas!” (More, more!), is her constant cry as she enters the room at +the beginning of every course to urge her guests to eat. + +To have English visitors staying at her posada filled the good señora +with pride. Her satisfaction reached its zenith when letters arrived +from England. She was loath to yield them up. “The great English people +will know of my _posada_ now,” she said on one occasion, pointing to the +address in triumph. With comical humility she asked that, in my +goodness, I would give her the envelope. How well do I remember the joy +with which she carried away the torn trophy! + +Nothing was too good for these strangers who had come from a foreign land +to stay at her _posada_. The best of everything the house contained was +given up for our use, special food was cooked, and the village was +ransacked to provide things fitting for _los Ingléses_. On one occasion, +when I had asked for a certain food not to be obtained in the +neighbourhood, a messenger was sent on horseback twenty miles over the +mountains to the nearest town to procure it. Nor was any payment allowed +for the service. No, the English señora was her guest; she had asked for +something, it was her duty to provide it. The trouble! the expense! she +did not understand. In the old Spain service is not rendered for +payment. + +It is in the villages that one is best able to study the peasants and the +gipsies. Sunday is the _dia festivo_, when the youths and maidens, +dressed in the picturesque native costumes, dance and sing to the music +of the village piper, who plays the _dulzaina_, a kind of clarionet. He +marks the time by beating on a drum which is slung around his waist. The +singing is the tuneless chanting heard so often in Spain, a kind of +interminable dwelling on one piercing note, not beautiful to unaccustomed +ears, but disturbing in its strange appeal, which so persistently recalls +the East. The dances are danced by boys and girls and men and women +grouped in couples of four or six. There is a great deal of movement; +the hands keep time with the feet, playing castanets hung with +bright-coloured ribbons. + +In all parts of Spain there are gipsies, but it is in the districts of +the south that the stranger will see them best, for there would seem to +be a special affinity between the Andalusian and the gipsy character. +The Gitanas and Gitanos live in communities, often in houses carved out +of the mountain sides. It is among them that we find the most typical of +the Spanish dancers. Dancing is a universal accomplishment, a part of +life, in which every girl and boy takes his or her share. + + [Picture: A mediæval ox-cart, Province of Guipúzcoa] + +On one day in the week the market is held in every small town, on the +open ground of the _plaza_, under the overspreading trees. Let us look +at the market-place at Ampuero, a large village in the Basque province of +Guipúzcoa. The whole ground space is filled with booths that are piled +up with fruit and vegetables, with dress-stuffs, pots, water-jugs, +furniture, and a medley of wares that give bright colour to the scene. +Peasants from the surrounding hamlets have all come to buy and sell. +They are dressed in the native costume—the men with the _boina_, or cap +of dark blue wool, shaped like a Scotch tam-o’-shanter, short smock +jackets, trousers of bright blue linen, and red or black body sashes; and +the women with their many-coloured handkerchiefs of silk, bright skirts +that are short and very wide, and still brighter blouses. The Spanish +peasants have the delight in vivid colour that belongs to all primitive +and happy people. + +The sellers and buyers stand about in groups talking in the ancient and +mysterious Basque language, which once, as place-names prove, was spoken +over the greater part of the Peninsula. All business is carried out in +the vivid, primitive Spanish manner. And what impresses the stranger +most is the courtesy and happy good-nature, which makes the universal +bargaining a game enjoyed alike by buyer and seller. + +In one corner of the _plaza_, under an archway, is a stone image, beneath +which burns a sacred lamp, and always, as they pass, the men and women +pause, cross themselves, and make a genuflection; religion is part of +business. The mules and ox-carts stand at the outskirts of the plaza. +The mules are shaved on the upper part of their bodies and their tails +and ears, and have a curious appearance; they are thin and badly cared +for, but this is hidden by their gay trappings. The ox-waggons are +exceedingly primitive, and as each one arrives a hoarse and deafening +noise pierces the air. The peasants leave the wheels of the cart +unoiled, and delight in the frightful music, which can be heard half a +league away; they believe that the sound drives off demons. A peasant +would not own a cart that did not “play.” + +The Basques claim to be the oldest race in Europe; and it is now +generally acknowledged that they represent the primitive Iberians of +Berber stock, who form the fundamental population of all Spain. Many +primitive customs survive among them, and one of the most interesting is +that by which the eldest daughter in some districts takes precedence over +the sons in inheritance. They are a people of the mountains, and to know +the Basques you must live in their villages; even their one town, Bilbao, +in spite of its industrial and commercial prosperity, is really an +overgrown village more than a city. It offers a striking contrast to +Barcelona, the other great Spanish seaport, and the most perfect example +of a commercial city. + + [Picture: Harvesting wheat in the Basque Province of Guipúzcoa] + +To see the Basques at their finest you must watch them in the fields, +where the women work side by side with the men, and appear to have equal +strength with them. They use a large and primitively-shaped fork on +which both feet are placed to force the implement into the ground, and +the work is carried out with surprising rapidity. + +Great flocks of sheep are reared in Spain, especially in Estremadura; +each flock belonging to one proprietor is called a _cabaña_, and many +contain 50,000 sheep. The shepherd who guards the _cabaña_ is one of the +most constant figures in the country districts. A million arrobes of +wool—an arrobe is about 25 pounds—are said to be obtained in each year, +and the wool is famed throughout Europe. Although manufactures are not +extensively developed, I have seen cloth made at Guadalajara that for +beauty of colour and quality would compare favourably with the +manufactures of England or France. It is worth noting that in some +manufactories it is the custom to set aside a portion of the wool to be +sold for the benefit of souls in purgatory—an instance of how in Spain +religion is connected with everything. + +The most important industries of Spain are wine-making and fruit-growing. +The country makes all the common wines for her own consumption, and the +brandies, rich wines, and fruits exported form a considerable source of +wealth. Many thousands of men, women, and children, are employed in +these industries. At Seville and other towns in the south, the women +pick the oranges ready to be taken to the ships. Great heaps of golden +fruit line the groves, which are afterwards sorted, the better fruit +being wrapped in paper before it is packed. + +One of the oldest industries is pottery. The _jarro_, or earthen pots +used for water, are made of white or red clay, unglazed, and very +beautiful in shape. The _jarro_ are sold by women in the markets of the +towns for a few reales—that is to say, about five or six English pence. + + [Picture: An orange-picker, Seville] + +Spanish workers are universally poor, receiving wages so low that it is +surprising how they live. But they are thrifty and sober, while their +needs are simple, and their hardships are mitigated in some measure by +the fact that almost all industries are carried on out of doors. In the +streets of the towns you see men and women at work at the edge of +pavements, making and mending boots, working sewing-machines, preparing +leather goods, ironware, and other commodities. The shops and small +manufactories are open to the street; you can see the occupants within +making ropes and baskets, saddlebags, brushes, and a variety of wares. +What impressed me was that these workers always looked happy. + +Women play an important part in the life of workaday Spain, and the +splendid types of these women workers make the foreigner think deeply. +They are full of energy and vigour even in old age. They work as well as +the men in the fields, turning the soil with forks, training the vines, +and garnering the grapes and chestnuts. I have seen women carrying +immense burdens, unloading boats, acting as porters, removing household +furniture. I saw one woman with a chest of drawers easily poised upon +her head; another, who was quite old, carried a bedstead. A beautiful +woman porter in one village carried our heavy luggage, running with it on +bare feet, without sign of effort. For what surprised me most was that, +in spite of hard physical labour, these women are beautiful. They are +always happy and contented; in their faces, and especially in their eyes, +is that indescribable expression, the wonderful smile of Spanish women. + +A visit to the _fábrica de tabacos_ at Seville will show the stranger a +charming scene of labour. The rooms of the factory are large, and, +although low, are airy. They open into outer courts, and the great +chambers, supported by pillars, resemble a church. Each room has its +altar, which is decorated with flowers and offerings. As the workers +pass they cross themselves, and never fail to make the customary +genuflection. Yet, with the easy familiarity which is the special +feature of the Spaniard’s religion, they will often place their outer +garments upon the altar. The _cigarreras_ are deeply religious, and at a +recent Easter festival one of the _pasos_ of the Virgin was presented +with a splendid new mantle at a cost of 9,000 dollars, for the purchase +of which the 7,000 workers had each contributed two _centimos_ a week +during the preceding year. + +The _cigarreras_, in brightly coloured costumes, sit at work making +_polvo de Sevilla_ and _tabaco de fraile_. A skilful worker can easily +accomplish ten _atados_, or bundles of fifty cigars, daily. The murmur +of conversation never ceases; talking seems to aid the Spaniards in work. +Many of the women have their babies with them, whom they tend in the +intervals of work; children a little older play happily together in +groups. It is enough to have seen these smiling, contented, industrious +women to know that life is happy to most women in Spain. + +The _Kermesse_, which is held each year in the Esclava Gardens, is the +festival of the _cigarreras_; it is a kind of fair. The stalls and +booths, where every variety of wares are sold, are presided over by the +_cigarreras_, dressed in the beautiful Andalusian attire. They chaffer +over every sale, but they do not seek customers, and appear to be more +occupied in talking than in selling their goods. All day long the +gardens are full of gay noise. The women pass to and fro; some sit on +seats, some rest upon the grass under the trees. In the centre of the +gardens a platform is erected, where in turn the women dance the +_sevillanas_ and other dances with charming spontaneous enjoyment. The +sound of castanets and clapping of hands never ceases; the talking is +deafening. Sometimes there is a quarrel, but this is rare. There is a +natural refinement in these women, and because they are really happy they +have no need of riot to convince themselves that life is pleasant. + + [Picture: Pottery vendors in a Spanish Market] + +Their love of festivals is shared by all Spaniards, and everywhere +holiday-making is a part of life. In the country districts, as in the +towns, the _Pascua de Resurrección_ of Easter is the most popular +festival, when the days are spent in a curious combination of religious +ceremonial and holiday-making. + +It was my good fortune to spend one Easter in a mountain village, where I +had an opportunity of seeing the customs of the people of old Spain. On +Palm Sunday the village was filled to overflowing with peasants, many of +whom had travelled long distances, riding on mules or driving in the +wooden ox-carts, from the hamlets among the mountains. They were dressed +in the native costumes. The men wore velvet breeches adorned with silver +buttons, and leather gaiters, open to show the calves; bright sashes of +red or yellow silk; jackets of brown cloth, with embroidered cuffs and +collars; blue or maroon cloaks, brightly lined; and pointed hats, adorned +with silver tassels. The fantastic dress gave the scene an aspect more +African than European. The women were not so gay, and were almost +universally attired in black; but the _mantilla_ with the white flower, +which all wore, gave them an incomparable grace. All day the streets +were filled with bustle and life. Vendors of palms were stationed in +every corner selling their wares, while boys ran to and fro among the +crowds with arms full of olive branches. + +The great function was the procession, when the _pasos_ were carried +through the streets after the celebration of Mass. In the _plaza_ a +stand had been erected, and every seat was filled; people crowded the +pavements, and in the balconies of every house men and women were closely +packed. The gendarmes of the little town walked first, marching gravely, +the representatives of law and order; then followed the children, clad in +white, and bearing the consecrated palms and olive branches; while after +them came the priests, dressed in robes richly embroidered and trimmed +with lace. Upon the shoulders of hidden bearers was carried the litter, +illuminated with hundreds of candles, upon which rested the figure of the +Virgin, the patron saint of the village. The image was hideous, quite +without beauty, and decked out in cheap tawdry finery, strangely +incongruous. But to the peasants she was the Mother of God. I saw no +sign of levity; the attitude of the men as well as of the women was +perfectly dignified, perfectly religious. All eyes were riveted upon the +sacred figure, heads were bared, and each man and woman bowed and made +the sign of the cross as the lighted litter passed. Prayers were +murmured and blessings invoked. “Holy Mother, cause the crops to ripen,” +“the sick child to be healed,” “the lover’s heart to soften”—such were +the cries of the women. Children pressed forward, dodging unchecked +among the gendarmes and priests, clamouring for a blessing. One small +_niña_ knelt upon the pavement in front of the _pasos_, holding up a +white carnation in offering. A priest stepped forward, took the flower, +and placed it upon the litter. + +To the children of the village the Easter days brought special enjoyment. +The part they played in the festival was a strange one, giving an example +of the old-world customs that live so persistently in Spain. On the +_Viernes Santo_, or Good Friday, each boy and girl went to church armed +with a horn and large wooden clapper, upon which strange instruments they +played to frighten the spirit of the traitor Judas Iscariot, who betrayed +Señor Dios, the name by which they quaintly designate the Saviour. They +blew and rattled with a will, and the hideous, deafening noise mingled +strangely with the music of the Mass, for the evil spirit must not +escape. Incomprehensible survival of an old superstition, blending the +grotesque with the most sacred service of the Church—how often the +stranger is surprised in Spain! + + [Picture: A Basque peasant-girl driving an ox-cart] + +The Spaniards are more friendly with one another than any people that I +know. The stranger will realize this travelling in the third-class +trains, as he must in the country districts, where the expresses do not +stop. These trains are known as _mixto_, and convey luggage as well as +passengers. The carriages are uncomfortable, and not always clean, and +the speed is very slow. Patience is a quality that the visitor to Spain +must cultivate. The train may start before the advertised time; it may +be an hour late. No Spaniard is disturbed by such trifles. At the +stations there is always a crowd of people waiting. There is a kind of +fatalistic patience in their appearance; they seem not so much to be +waiting for a particular train, as hoping that presently a train will +come that will take them to their destination. Even when the train +arrives there is no hurrying; a start will not be made until everyone is +ready, for punctuality is a small virtue compared with politeness. The +long-drawn cry of _A-a-gua fresco_! is always heard. Much time is +occupied, as everyone in the train seems to want to drink. + +In the carriages the company talk together with excessive volubility, and +have the appearance of being members of one family. As soon as you enter +questions will be asked. “Where are you going to?” “Are you Francéses +or Ingléses?” “Why have you come to visit their country?” “Are you +married, and is the señor who is with you your husband?” “How many +children have you?” “How old are you?” “Why do you wear a hat, and not +a _mantilla_?” “And how is it you have no earrings and no fan?” You +will soon become accustomed to this interrogation, which is made with no +hint of familiarity, and is the outcome of a friendliness that wishes to +make the stranger at home. + +The natives seem to be without a thought of themselves, and incapable of +considering personal comfort. They will crowd upon one seat of the +carriage to give the English strangers more room. If the weather is +cold, they will insist upon giving you their cloaks. They talk to you +incessantly, explaining to you the scenery and various places through +which the train passes, with delightful childish enthusiasm. They will +offer you everything in their possession that you chance to admire. + + [Picture: Sherry a half-century old, Jerez] + +I remember saying to a little Spanish maid, “What a beautiful carnation +in your hair!” Off came the flower. “It is at your disposal, señora.” +I protested with the fitting answer: “A thousand thanks, but, no, I could +not accept.” But the offer was quite sincere, and, in spite of protest, +the flower was fastened into my hair, amidst the compliments and +congratulations of every occupant of the carriage. On another journey a +fan and a beautiful peasant brooch, which I rashly admired, were pressed +upon me with the same delightful politeness. + +When meal-time arrives, each peasant brings out the _alforja_, or +embroidered wallet, which Sancho Panza kept so well filled. A huge +Spanish loaf is produced, and some of the long thin garlic sausages. +Slices of the bread are cut to serve as plates. But before the meal is +begun a hearty _gusta_ invites all the other occupants to share in the +feast. It is customary at this stage to refuse, and “Muchas gracias” is +politely murmured. Soon the black-leather wine-bottle is brought out of +the wallet and a packet of some kind of sweetmeat. Now is the time for +acceptance; the bottle is handed round for everyone to drink, and small +pieces of the sweetmeat are divided. It is a charming experience, +provided that you have acquired the skill to drink from that curious +long-spouted bottle of leather. And if you fail, the Spaniards will +enjoy the task of teaching you the art. + +But, indeed, there is no limit to the helpful friendliness of these +simple happy people. On one occasion a workman abandoned his own +journey, and, in spite of our protests, came with us. When we arrived at +our destination, he spent several hours in assisting us to find suitable +lodgings in the village in which we had planned to stay, where there was +no regular house of hospitality. He introduced us to the inhabitants of +the place as his friends, and expended much energy to insure our comfort. +It is only when work is profitable that the Spaniard is ever lazy. He +delights to expend an immense amount of effort, which may not be +considered useful, so long as the work makes appeal to his Spanish love +of romantic effects. It is because this trait is so often overlooked by +the stranger, who too quickly condemns “the lazy Spaniards,” that I +recount this characteristic incident. Our friend was genuinely surprised +when we offered payment for his services; there was a note of dignified +sorrow in the “Muchas gracias” of his refusal. It had been a privilege +to assist _los Ingléses_, whom he admired. Had he not once visited our +country? We were a great people. He desired that we should think well +of his country. All he would accept was to share our meal, after which +he left us—I suppose, to continue his own journey. + +Among the mountains and in many country districts there are still no +railways. The stranger who travels here has to use the diligences, which +on certain days in the week run from the nearest town to the outlying +hamlets. The diligence is a kind of coach without springs. I know of no +other conveyance so uncomfortable, except the long car of Ireland. It is +drawn by a team of gaunt mules, usually six in number, with gay harness, +and each animal has jangling bells around its neck. The driver wears a +picturesque dress: a brown jacket with coloured collar, a red sash and +knee-breeches, and a peaked hat adorned with tassels. He drives with a +tremendous amount of noise, stamping his feet, shouting, and brandishing +his whip. He beats incessantly the wretched mules. The coach is kept at +full gallop, and ascends and descends the steep hills with a rapidity +which is often alarming; but accidents are rare, owing to the +sure-footedness of the mules. + + [Picture: Ruins of the Old Aqueduct, which supplied the Alhambra with + water, Granada] + +It was when travelling in these mountainous districts that we gained some +knowledge of the wild animals of Spain. We were often near to the haunts +of boars, wolves, and deer. Bears are common in many hilly districts, +and that fine wild creature, the ibex, ranges the peaks of the higher +mountains. Foxes are plentiful everywhere, and the wild-cat is far from +scarce. The marten is often found, and otters live in most of the +rivers. + +The swamps and ponds are filled with big green frogs, and lizards of the +same colour are common. The frogs are much larger than the English frog, +and their peculiar cry, a sort of monotonous rumbling, is so loud that it +can be heard a mile away. The legs of these green frogs are a table +delicacy much esteemed in many districts. + +In the country hamlets the stranger must be prepared to meet discomfort. +One of the trials will be hunger. In the _fondas_ of the Basque +provinces and in the smaller towns the fare is ample, and as a rule well +cooked. But the peasants of Central and Southern Spain are the most +frugal people, who subsist on a diet that would be refused by the poorest +workers in England. For the stranger the peasants do their utmost, but +the diet is limited to eggs, leathery, quite tasteless beef, hard stale +bread, and thin wine. The cooking is always indifferent. The first meal +of the day consists of a cup of chocolate or coffee, often without milk, +and a lump of dry bread. There is no butter, and no milk except goat’s +milk, and, strange as it seems in this fertile land, vegetables and fruit +are always scarce in the country villages. The universal dish is +_garbanzos_, a large dried pea, which is cooked with garlic as a flavour. + +We spent several months fishing in these districts, and, although +sometimes we fared tolerably well, more often we had to be content with +indifferent and inadequate meals. But for the sake of experience the +stranger can endure discomfort with fortitude. + + [Picture: Beaching fishing-boats: the Blue Mediterranean] + +There are numerous sport-giving rivers in all parts of Spain, which +possess all the qualities for the production of fish-life. Such rivers +as the Sil and Minho contain trout as big as any in Europe. The fishing +is free, except for a licence costing about three shillings. There can +be no doubt that with proper cultivation these rivers might become a +fisherman’s paradise in the course of a few years. But a complete +revision of the _ley de pesca_—fishing law—is necessary. Rivers are not +stocked, and trout hatcheries are almost unknown. The poacher is +everywhere, using snares, spears, and the deadly dynamite. Thousands of +small fish are scooped out of the small pools of the tributaries with +pole-nets during dry seasons. But, on the other hand, Spain is, happily, +almost free, except in the mining districts of the north, from poisoned +and contaminated waters. There are thousands of miles of beautiful +rivers with no factories, works, or big cities within many leagues of +their lengths. Then, the fish in the Spanish rivers are splendidly +prolific. Trout teem in many rivers, where the deep pools baffle the +poachers, who devote their attention to the shallows and tributaries. +Salmon are found in many rivers; shad or sábalos, escalos—a kind of cross +between a chub and a dace—barbel, bogas, and other coarse fish, and eels, +are plentiful. The barbel is different from the barbel of England, being +a handsomer fish and not so coarse; it is more golden in colour, and the +scales are less thick. The beautiful silvery sábalos are caught in sunk +nets, whose opening is concealed by a green bough which looks like +water-weed, and so deceives the travelling fish. The sábalos will not +rise to any bait. They vary from 4 pounds to 12 pounds in weight, and +are an excellent fish to eat, resembling the salmon. + +In all parts of Spain there are native anglers. The tackle they use is +of the rudest description—a rod made of maize stalks, with a hazel switch +for the top, coarse casts, and flies clumsy and big. But they are all +keen, and many of them are clever fishermen. At Materosa, a small hamlet +on the wild Sil, some leagues from the town of Ponferrada, the peasants +gain their living by fishing with the rod for trout, which they send to +the market at Madrid. + +I recall Estanislao, a _chico_ who fished with a great bamboo rod, which +he looked too small to handle. + +We talked to him. + +“You are also a fisherman?” + +“Yes, señora; I have fished all my life, and my father before me.” + +This _chico_ was a good angler. Standing on a great boulder, he cast +with a loud swishing noise across the river, letting his dozen flies swim +on the rough water. At each cast the weight of his great rod nearly +threw him into the whirling current. But he caught more fish than we +did. + +We offered him a present of some of our flies. He looked at them and +smiled. + +“Muchas gracias, they are very pretty. But how can I catch big trout +with these little hooks?” + +He laughed till the tears ran down his face. But in a minute he +remembered the good manners in which every Spanish child is trained. He +added: + +“Mil gracias, señora! Es favor que usted me hace (A thousand thanks, +señora! It is a favour you make me). _I will keep them as toys_!” + + + + +CHAPTER VI—SPANISH ART + + +Spanish Art the Reflection of the Spanish Temperament—The Great Buildings +of Spain—Spanish Gothic—Its Realistic Naturalness, its Massiveness and +Extravagance—The Churches, the Real Museums of Art Treasures—Polychrome +Sculpture—Spanish Painting—Its Late Development—Its Special Character—Its +Strength, its Dramatic and Religious Character. + +To understand Spain you must know her architecture, her sculpture, and +her pictures. For in Spain, perhaps to a greater extent than in any +country, art is the reflection of the life and temper of the people. And +this is true although the essential ideas of her art in building, in +carving, and in painting, have all been borrowed from other nations. It +is the distinctive Spanish gift to stamp with the seal of her own +character all that she learns from without. + +The first, as it has remained the strongest, expression in art of this +people was in building and in sculpture, which gave opportunity for +emphasis to their special dramatic temperament. We must go back to Rome +for another country that has spoken in its buildings with the same +overwhelming force. + +The cathedrals which arose in the period of the nation’s greatest +prosperity were the chief point of attraction—the theatre, the centre, of +all life. They were built for the honour of God, but also for the +enjoyment of the people themselves; religion was joyful, +popular—democratic, one might say. All the exuberant life garnered by +Hispano-Arab culture lives in the Spanish buildings. Here Roman, +Byzantine, and Arab art have passed, and also the Mudejar, the Gothic, +and the Renaissance—in fact, all the styles of Europe. For this reason +there is no native school of architecture. Spain possesses few pure +Gothic, Romanesque, or Renaissance buildings. + +But it is just this complexity which gives to the Spanish buildings their +special character. The Spanish artists, though they lacked creative +genius, were no base imitators; they sought to combine, and they gave to +the temples they had to construct that massive, strong, and exuberant +spirit that was in harmony with their own temperament. In such a +cathedral, for instance, as that of Burgos we find vigour and joyous +exuberance rather than reserve and beauty—a confused richness that has a +flavour of brutality almost. The sombre Gothic can be traced in the +older portions of the building, but everywhere it has been seized upon by +the restless fancy of later workers. Spanish architecture is like the +Spanish manners. The Spaniard can use a floridity of expression that +would be ridiculous in England. + + [Picture: Choir stalls in the Mosque, Cordova] + +The carving and moulding of wood and stone and iron in the fifteenth +century had reached a high level of accomplishment. And although none of +the world’s famous sculptors have been Spaniards, the amount of strong +and beautiful carvings to be found in every part of the Peninsula is +amazing; in no country can they be surpassed. Every great church and +cloister contains carvings in wood—a material chosen by the Spaniards for +the freedom and facility it gave for expression—which are treasures of +delight. The immense and amazing retablos and the carved walnut-wood +choir-stalls which every great church contains cannot be matched +elsewhere. It is a pity that these characteristic works are hardly +known; they are the basis of all Spanish art. In no country in Europe +can be seen more wonderful carvings than on the monumental tombs of such +cathedrals as Toledo, Zamora, and Leon. Again, the ironwork church +screens, notably those of the cathedrals of Seville, Granada, and Toledo, +cannot be surpassed. In these works, with their dramatic conceptions, +finding expression in a wealth of interesting details, never without the +tendency to over-emphasis of statement which marks the art of this +people, the Spanish character speaks. Æsthetic sensibility is almost +always absent; the art here is vigorous and romantic, frankly expressive, +with a kind of childlike, almost grotesque, naturalism that shows a +realistic grasp of all things, even of spiritual things. I recall the +polychrome sculpture of this people; the images of the anguished Virgin, +in which sorrow is carried to its utmost limit of expression; the +bleeding heads of martyred saints, such, for instance, as those terrible +yet moving heads of the Baptist by Alonso Cano at Granada, or the +poignantly lifelike polychrome carvings of the Crucified Christ by +Montañes, Gregorio Hernandez, Juni Juanes, and other sculptors, which are +seen in many churches, and which are carried in procession in the Easter +_pasos_ at Seville and elsewhere, images in which all the details of the +Passion are emphasized with an emotional delight in the presentment of +pain. And when I think of these images I understand the bull-fight. + + [Picture: Burgos Cathedral] + +Until the fifteenth century painting found no home in Spain. Placed as +she is almost midway between the art centres of Flanders in the North and +of Italy in the South, Spain has geographically a position of equipoise +between these conflicting art influences. But this balance of influence +was modified by the bent of the Spanish character, and the true affinity +of Spain in art has always been with the Flemings. No one can doubt this +who has a knowledge of the Spanish Primitives. The art of Spain is +Northern in its literalness, in its dramatic force, and deep and singular +gravity. + +Jan van Eyck in 1428 visited Portugal and Spain, and, incited by the +brilliant reception accorded to the great Flemish master, other +enterprising Netherland painters flocked to the Peninsula. From this +time the native artists gave their attention to painting, and on this +Flemish foundation arose a really capable group of painters. The +essential ideas in the pictures of these early masters are all borrowed; +but, though Flemish in their inspiration, they yet retain an attractive +Spanish personality of their own. The Spanish painters, more perhaps +than the painters of any other school, have imitated and absorbed the art +of other nations without degenerating into copyists. + + [Picture: Residence of the Mexican Minister, Madrid] + +But this development of a national art on the basis of Flemish influence +was not of long duration, and before the fifteenth century closed the +newly-born Spanish school was rudely disturbed by the introduction into +Spain of the Italian influences of the Renaissance. The building of the +Escorial brought a crowd of artists from Italy—not the great masters, for +they were no longer alive, but pupils more or less mannered and decadent. +Spain was overrun with third-rate imitators of the Italian grand styles, +of Michael Angelo, of Raphael, and their followers. This is not the +place to speak of the blight which fell upon the native painters. The +distinctive Italian schools were an influence for evil, fatal to the +expression of the true genius of the people; for the deep-feeling, +individualistic temper of the Spaniards could not be reconciled with the +spirit of Italy. + +But the Spanish temper is strong. The native painters used Renaissance +forms, but they never worked in the Renaissance spirit. And it was not +long before Spanish artists were turning to Venice, where they found a +new inspiration in an art suited to their temperament in its methods, and +in its spirit. El Greco, who had received his first inspiration from +Tintoretto, the mighty master of the counter-Reformation, came as a +liberating force to Spain. The torch he had lighted at Tintoretto’s fire +burnt in Toledo with splendid power. El Greco is the first great Spanish +painter. + +And the seventeenth century witnessed in the art of the Spanish school +one of those surprising outbursts of successful life that meet us now and +again, in every department of enterprise, in this land of fascinating +contradictions, which give so strange a denial to the usual limit of her +attainment. It was the century of Velazquez and Murillo, of Ribera and +Zurbaran. In Velazquez, Spanish painting gained its crown of +achievement. + +In the period after his great inspiration, imitation seemed inevitable to +his successors. Spanish painting apparently was dead. Yet it was just +in this time of degradation that the Spanish school was surprised +suddenly by the remarkable art of Goya. Again a great personality filled +the Spanish art stage, forcing a reversal of judgment. We forget the +usual level of the period’s achievement; we remember only Goya. With +him, once more, we are face to face with a new force in art. Spain +challenges the world again; and she gives it its most personal, its most +daring genius. + +Such, in briefest outlines, is the history of Spanish painting. + + [Picture: The Old Aqueduct, known as “El Pueute,” of Trajan, Segovia] + +It will be seen that Spain is not an art-lover’s paradise. There has +never been a time when the accomplishment of the Spanish school is really +comparable to what the Italian and Flemish schools have achieved. Spain +is not a land of great painters. Murillo has sunk to the rank of a +second-rate master; Ribera and Zurbaran are yet hardly known outside +Spain. El Greco, Velazquez, Goya—these are the only really great names; +and Velazquez towers as much above his fellow-artists as Cervantes above +his fellow-novelists. Spain’s claim to the world’s attention in the +arts, as also in literature, rests upon the accomplishment of individuals +more than upon the general average of her work. It is the result of that +personal quality—the predominance of character—which rules every +department of Spanish achievement. It still lives in the vigorous and +characteristic Spanish painters of to-day—such, for instance, as Zuloaga, +Anglada-Camarasa, and Sorolla, artists who take high rank among European +painters. + +It is often contended that Spanish paintings, if we except the works of +the masters El Greco, Velazquez, and Goya, are wanting in dignity, +wanting in beauty. But are we not too apt to confine beauty to certain +forms of accepted expression? Surely, any art that interprets life has +beauty; and no one can doubt, who knows the Spanish pictures, that life +was the inspiration of these painters. + + [Picture: The main gallery in the Museo Del Prado, Madrid] + +The Spanish character speaks in every Spanish picture. There is one +quality, which at a first knowledge will impress the careful observer, in +all these pictures, which, though different, all have one aim—it is their +dramatic seriousness. Rarely do you meet with a picture in which the +idea of beauty, whether it be the beauty of colour or the beauty of form, +has stood first in the painter’s mind. Almost in vain will you search +for any love of landscape, for any passage of beauty introduced for its +own sake. Pictures of Passion scenes, of Assumptions, of martyrdoms and +saintly legends, were painted with a vivid belief in the reality of these +things, by men who felt the presence of the Divine life as a part of +human life. To see these pictures in which homely details are introduced +into the most sacred themes is to understand the Spaniard’s easy +familiarity with his religion. + +This is the reason why the Spanish painters always treat a vision as a +real scene, and why, too, they present religious and saintly characters +by Spanish models. There is a Spanish picture by Zurbaran in the +National Gallery of London; it is entitled “St. Margaret.” You look at +the picture; you see a Spanish lady, her face powdered, as was the +fashion; an embroidered saddle-bag hangs on one arm, in the other hand +she holds a rosary. She is dressed in the picturesque Andalusian +costume. I always smile when I look at this picture, it is so truly +Spanish. The incongruity of clothing saintship in the garb of fashion +would not be evident to Spanish Zurbaran; he could not see a saint, +therefore he painted a woman, but in accordance with the custom of the +day he called her a “saint.” + +All the Spanish pictures tell stories. The successes of her painters are +due to this aim; their failures, to the sacrifice of beauty of ideal to +this—a danger from which, perhaps, no painter except Velazquez quite +escaped. He alone, faultless in the balance of his exquisite vision, was +saved quite from this danger of overstatement. It is the special gift of +the whole school, from the time of the early painters of Andalusia to the +time of Goya, to present a scene just as the painter supposed it might +have happened. Was not their aim to translate life—the life of earth and +the truer life of heaven? And to the Spaniard, we must remember, life +was always dramatic. + + [Picture: The Cross by the Wayside, Granada] + +We find a sort of wild delight in martyrdom, as, for instance, in the +pictures of Ribera—a joy that is perfectly sincere in pain and in the +scourging of the body. There are pictures horrible with the sense of +death and human corruption. Again and again is enforced the Catholic +lesson of humility, expressing itself in acts of charity to the poor, +such as exists to-day in the custom of the washing of feet at the Easter +celebrations in Seville. There is a childlike sincerity in these +pictures which compels us to accept and realize what the painter himself +believed in. + +I recall the pictures of Zurbaran in the museum of Seville, pictures +which carry you into a world of realism, a world in which visions are +translated into the facts of life, set forth with a childlike simplicity +of statement. Each picture is a scene from the life of old Spain. What +honesty is here, what singular striving to record the truth! (The word +“truth” is used in a restricted sense. Zurbaran understood nothing of +the inner suggestiveness of art; to him art meant facts, not vision.) +The peasants in his religious scenes are almost startling in their +outward resemblance to life. How simple is his rendering of the +Scriptural scenes, his conceptions of the Christ! With what poignant +reality he depicts the Crucifixion, a subject exactly suited to his art! +His saints are all portraits, faces caught in a mirror, the types of old +Spain. No one has painted saints as Zurbaran has done. Before his +saints gained their sanctity they must have struggled as men; and as we +look at the cold, strong faces we come to know the spiritual instinct +that belongs to every true Spaniard. + +Among the Spanish priests to-day, and especially in those living in the +country districts of Castile, the observant stranger will see the types +represented in Zurbaran’s pictures. In the faces of these men, as, +indeed, in their whole appearance, there is a profound asceticism, a sort +of energy concentrated in a white heat of devotion. I have never seen +the same type in Italy, or among the priests of any country. But often +when watching a Spanish priest, in the services of the Church or walking +alone on the roads, I have felt that I understood the meaning of the +phrase, “This man has embraced religion.” + +To all the Spanish painters art was serious—a matter of heaven, not of +earth. Each painter was conscious of the presence of the Divine life, +giving seriousness as well as joy to earthly life. It is this which +gives Spanish painting a special interest to the student of Spain. In +their ever-present religious sense, in their adherence, almost brutal at +times, to facts, as well as in those interludes of sensuous sweetness +which now and again, as, for instance, in the facile and pleasing art of +Murillo, burst out so strangely like an exotic bloom, the Spanish +pictures reflect the temper of Spain. + +No one can understand Spanish painting who does not know the Spanish +character. I think, too, that nothing reveals to the stranger more truly +the Spanish character, which is at once so simple and yet so difficult, +in its apparent contradictions, to comprehend, as a knowledge of the art +of her painters. + + + + +CHAPTER VII—ABOUT MANY THINGS + + +The Real Spirit of Spain—The Spiritual Instinct of the Race—The +Escorial—Spanish Beggars—The Spaniard belongs to the Past, but also to +the Future. + +What is the real spirit of Spain? We are now in a better position to +attempt an answer. The word which I should use to represent the main +impression made upon me by the character of the average Spaniard, the +soldier, the bull-fighter, the priest, the gentleman, the peasant, is +individualism; and it seems to me that this attitude explains Spain’s +greatness in the past, and also her position to-day. A love of +independence, a kind of passionate egotism, and a clannish preference for +small social groups, has always distinguished this race. To his friends, +even when they have injured him, the Spaniard is invariably indulgent; +but those who are outside his circle he regards with indifference, which +quickly rises to enmity. + +Spain has always been the country of great personalities. Her brilliant +achievements in every department of life—in warfare, in travel, in +politics, in literature, and in the arts—have ever been the result of +individual, and not of collective, genius. Velazquez is the world’s +greatest painter; Cervantes, the world’s greatest story-teller. The +Spanish spirit, with its wide-ranging energy for dramatic enterprise and +its passion for personal freedom, has filled Spain in the past with +martyrs and heroes. + +The Spaniard has two devotions: his observance of the traditions of his +race, and his religion. The ceremonies of life, which he never forgets +to practise, are so real in his hands that they become quite simple and +natural. He may commit a crime sooner than forget to behave gracefully. +Every Spaniard, be he beggar, peasant, or prince, acts in the tradition +of his race, by which every man is equal and a gentleman. + +There is an inscription on the staircase of the Ayuntamiento (Town Hall) +of Toledo which is worth quoting as an instance of the Spanish attitude +to duty: “Noble and judicious men who govern Toledo, leave your passions +on this staircase—leave there love, fear, and desire of gain. For the +public benefit forget every private interest, and serve God; He has made +you the pillars of this august place, be firm and upright.” + + [Picture: Town and Monastery of the Escorial] + +Religion is the great devotion of the Spaniard: it is much more than an +attendance upon forms; it is a profound sentiment, which in him is the +spirit of acceptance. In the sphere of devotion this people know no +limit to self-sacrifice. It is not without significance that Ferrer, the +greatest of later-day martyrs, was a Spaniard. The spiritual instinct is +the deepest instinct of the race. In the faces of many peasants, and in +some of the dwellers in the towns, I have seen often the making of +martyrs and fanatics. The gloom, so helpful to the emotion of worship, +which pervades all Spanish churches is one instance of how truly they +comprehend the needs of the devotional spirit. The ecstatic attitudes +which may be noted almost everywhere in the worshippers in the churches +is quite unlike anything that will be seen in other countries—in Italy, +for example, or in France. And religion is so real a thing, so truly a +part of life, that immediately after this absorbed prayer they will talk +and laugh together. + +But if you would understand the spiritual instinct which so remarkably +unites the life of this world with the after-life—the instinct which is +really at the root of the true nature of the Spaniard—there is one +building that the stranger must not fail to visit: it is the Escorial, +the Royal Temple to Death. The spirit of the Escorial is in one aspect +the spirit of Spain. There is nothing in the country more impressive +than this mighty Palace of the Dead. It was built, as all the world +knows, by Philip II., the richest and most powerful of Kings, in +fulfilment of a vow made on the day of the Battle of St. Quentin. We see +the suite of small dark rooms which he prepared for himself, wherein he +might make ready for death. And how Spanish are these barely furnished +rooms set in the midst of a palace—this withdrawal from all the things of +this world to prepare for the life of the next world! + + [Picture: Puerta Judiciana, or Gate of Justice] + +It is in the Pantheon of the Escorial that the Spanish Kings are buried. +The great outer doors of the palace are never opened except when the +Sovereigns come for the first time to the Escorial, and when their bodies +are brought there to the vault which awaits them. The Pantheon is a +small octagon; it is lined with polished marbles, which are crumbling +away with a strange decomposition. The sarcophagi, all exactly alike, +are placed in niches that cover all the wall space; almost every niche is +occupied, but a few empty ones await the living. An altar with a +crucifix of black marble upon a pedestal of porphyry stands opposite the +doorway. The chamber is very cold, and is penetrated only by a few rays +of half-extinguished light. + +To-day tourists flock to the Escorial: English, American, French—a +strange procession! They seem curiously out of place; their expressions +of admiration are grotesque in their incongruity. There is a deathly +solemnity about this mighty palace that has something ferocious, almost, +in its suggestion. Yes, to see this immense building, with its simple +structure which corresponds so perfectly with the emotion of the place, +set in such splendid isolation amidst the grey and sombre mountains of +Old Castile, where it seems but a part of the desolate landscape, is to +realize that insistence on death and acceptance of pain which is so real +a part of the Spanish spirit—the shadow which, in spite of all her joyous +life, haunts this romantic and fascinating land. And the sensitive +stranger will feel again that he understands the cruelty that has +surprised him sometimes in the character of her people. + +It was from the Moors that the Spaniards inherited their readiness to +sacrifice themselves for a cause, and this genius for sacrifice has made +them heroes, martyrs, and conspirators; it has given them their strength, +and also their weakness. This people can resign themselves to anything, +and resignation can just as easily be heroism or mere apathy. The heroic +side of this power gave Spain the greatness of her past history; the +other side, the resignation that is apathy, may be seen everywhere in +Spain to-day. One instance is the beggars who follow you in the streets +of every town, with their incessant cry for alms. There is terrible +poverty in Spain, of which these hordes of beggars are but a too genuine +sign. + + [Picture: Municipal plaza and south façade of the famous old + cathedral-seat of the Primate of Spain, Toledo] + +Begging is a profession of which no one is ashamed. And what impressed +me most was that only rarely did the beggar appear unhappy. They all +seemed to find their own enjoyment in that open-air life in the sun which +is the happiness of Spain. I recall one beggar who always sat at the +door of the Cathedral of Leon. He was very old. The cloak in which he +was wrapped was so worn and threadbare that one wondered how the rags +held together. He never appeared to move; through each day he kept the +same position. His face was a mass of wrinkles which showed strongly +from the ingrained dirt. There was a patient humour in his eyes, which +were still bright. His face reminded me of Velazquez’ picture. He +seemed quite content when I refused his cry for alms, so that I gave the +answer that Spanish courtesy demands, “Perdone usted, por el amor de +Dios!” (Excuse me, brother, for the love of God!). He hardly troubled to +hold out his hand. It was warm where he sat in the sunshine; a shadow +from the sculptured figures of saints and angels, which ornamented the +portal, fell on him pleasantly. Someone will give to him some day; he +was quite content. He was a man of Spain. + +Spain has something from of old, which the younger countries of the +world, with all their headlong progress, have as yet only begun to gain. +That something is tradition. It is interesting to note for one’s self +the signs of this tradition in the daily life of the people—in their fine +understanding of the art of living, in their unfailing courtesy, in their +kindness in all personal relationships. I have never known a people with +so little thought of themselves or care for personal gain. The greatest +gift of their inheritance is a splendid capacity for sacrifice. And if, +as must be acknowledged, this quality has led them often into evil, +nevertheless it will, with awakened knowledge, gain their redemption. + + [Picture: The valley of the Guadalevín River, Ronda] + +In England, and even more in America—the newest as Spain is one of the +oldest of civilizations—business is the only respectable pursuit, +including under business literature and the arts, which in these +countries are departments of business. In Spain this is not so; there +are other aims and other traditions, havens of refuge from the prevalent +commercialism. + +The duty of expending great labour to gain the little good of money is +not as yet understood by the Spaniards. They have always been, and still +are, a people who stand definitely for art and the beauty of life—men and +women whose spiritual instinct enables them to open windows to the stars, +and through these windows, in passing, the stranger sometimes looks. + + [Picture: Flamenco dance of a Gitana, Seville] + +Literature and art in Spain rest on a long tradition which has not only +produced pictures, carvings, splendid buildings, and books, but has left +its mark on the language, the manners, the ideas, and the habits of the +people. And even though in every art the technical tradition has been +interrupted, there remains the tradition of feeling. Spain is one of the +few uncommercial countries where the artist and the author are still +esteemed as worthy and profitable members of the community. Spanish +paper money bears the portraits of men of letters and great painters. +Goya’s etchings are reproduced on the pictures used as stiffeners in the +packets of cigarettes. + +It is this ever-present consciousness of a great tradition, which we may +call an understanding of “good manners,” meaning by this the art of +beautiful living, finding its expression as it does in the common life of +the people, that makes it true that, though the Spaniard belongs to the +Past, he belongs also to the Future. He has the qualities which younger +nations now are striving to gain. + +Side by side with the new growth of material prosperity, which has been +so marked in the country in recent years, there is to-day a corresponding +movement of spiritual reawakening. When education spreads among the +people, when the over-scrupulous submission to authority, which has given +power to the officialism of Church and State, shall have found new +channels of duty, we shall cease to hear dismal prophecies of Spain’s +downfall. By the splendid spiritual qualities of her people Spain will +be saved. She will be born again before many years have passed. + + + + +INDEX + +_Al toro_, the game of, 149 +Alcázar, the, 113 +Algeciras, 13 +Alhambra, the, 103 +Andalusian, the typical, 115 +“Angel’s hair,” 139 +Architecture, 205 +Architecture in Toledo, 99 +Art, 204 +Art galleries, 150 + +_Banderilleros_, the, 50 +Basques, the, 168 +Beggars, 68, 242 +_Boina_, the, 164 +_Bolero_, the, 36 +_Bota_, or leather bottle, 18 +Bull-fight, the, 43 +Burgos Cathedral, 206 +Business v. Art, 249 + +_Cabaña_ a, 170 +_Cafés cantantes_, 36 +Cafés in Madrid, 138 +_Calientes_, 125 +Carvings, 206 +_Casetas_, 72 +Children, Spanish, 145 +_Chulos_, the, 50 +_Cigarreras_, 46, 177 +Climate of Madrid, the, 139 +Conservatism of Spain, 14 +_Consumos_, or Customs officers, 18 +Cordova, 105 +Court of Oranges at Cordova, 106 +Cruelty in the Spanish nature, 60 + +Dancing, 35 +Democracy in Spain, 19 +Diligences, 193 +Dress, 25 +_Dulsaina_, the, 163 + +El Greco, 98, 217 +Escorial, the, 237 +_Espada_, the, 53 + +_Fábrica de Tabacos_, 176 +Family life, 72 +Fans, 140 +_Feria_, the, 72 +Fishing, 198 +_Flamenco_ dance of the Gitanas, 39 +Food, indifferent, 198 +Friendliness, 188 +Frogs as a delicacy, 197 +Fruit-growing, 172 + +Ganivet on Moorish influence, 29 +Gardens, 30 +_Generalife_ of Granada, the 33 +_Gente flamenca_, 46 +Giralda Tower, the, 113 +Gitana women, 74 +Gitanas, the, or gipsies, 36, 163 +Goya, 218 +Granada, the gardens of, 33, 103 + +Hair, elaborately dressed, 25 +Hospitality of the Spaniards, 125 +Households, Spanish, 123 +Houses, construction of, 25 + +Indifference to pain, 63 +Irun, 13 + +Jan Van Eyck, 213 +_Jarro_, the, 172 +_Jota_, the, 39 + +_Kermesse_, the, 178 +Kindliness of the Spanish nature 68 + +Madrid, 130 +_Majos_, 115, 140 +Manaña, 59 +Maria de Gaucin, torero, 45 +Market, a, 164 +Montanés, the sculptor, 83 +Moorish influence, 25 +Moors in Spain, the, 26 +Mosque at Cordova, 106 +_Muleta_, the, 53 +Museo del Prado, 150 +Museums, 150 + +Ox-waggons, 167 + +Pain, the Spaniard’s indifference to, 64 +Painting, 213 +_Pascua de Resurrección_, the, 181 +_Paseo de la Cuadrilla_, the, 49 +_Pasos_, the, 80, 182 +_Patio_, the, 25, 120 +Peasants, Spanish, 164 +Physical traits, 24 +_Picador_, the, 50 +Plaza de Toros, the, 46 +Port Bou 13 +_Posada_, the, 18, 153 +Prado, the, 139 +Puerta del Sol, the 138 + +Railway trains, 184 +Rastro of Madrid, the, 134 +_Reja_, the, or grating, 120 +Religion and dancing, 78 +Religious processions, 83 +Romance, Spain the home of, 14 + +_Sainete_, or “curtain-raiser,” 144 +Santa Maria, Cathedral of, 87 +Seguidilla, the, 73 +_Seises_, the, 79 +Semana Santa, the, 80 +_Serenos_, or night watchmen, 17 +Seville, 36, 46, 80 +Spanish character, the, 20 +Stendhal on the Spanish people, 14 +_Suerte de Banderillear_, the, 50 +_Suerte de Matar_, 53 +_Suerte de Picar_, the, 50 + +Teatro Real at Madrid, 144 +_Tertulias_, or parties, 124 +Theatre in Spain, the, 145 +Thrift and sobriety, 175 +Toledo, 93 +Toreros, the, 45 +_Toro de gracia_, 54 +Tower of Gold, the, 113 + +Unpunctuality, 187 + +_Vacada_, the, 45 +Velazquez, 151 +_Ventas_, 77 + +Wild animals, 194 +Wine-making, 172 +Women, fascination of Spanish, 119 +Women, Spanish, 24 +Women workers, 175 + +_Zeguán_, the, 26 +Zurbaran, 225 + + * * * * * + + * * * * * + + BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. + + + + +Footnote + + +{0} The pagination of the printed book could not be totally reproduced +in this eText. 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