"I give theft Books
for tlie founding if a. College in this Colony"

'Y^LH-WMVIEl^SflirY-

Deposited by the
Linonian and Brothers Library

IM.

QUIET DAYS IN SPAIN

QUIET DAYS IN
SPAIN

BY C. BOGUE LUFFMANN
¦ 4 «
AUTHOR OF "a VAGABOND IN SPAIN," ETC.

NEW YORK
P. BUTTON AND COMPANY
31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET
19IO

First Edition . . . June igio
Reprinted be/ore Publication

PREFACE
ON taking my departure after telling some
true but adventurous stories to a family of
eager children, a little girl said to her mother,
" Wouldn't it be lovely if what he said were
true ! "
I am reminded of this remark as I write a pre
face, but I offer no excuse for the appearance of
this book. It made itself ; it is a faithful tale,
and should it here and there read like fiction —
well, so much the better.
During portions of 1908-9 I wandered over
forty-two of the forty-nine provinces of Spain — I
had previously made acquaintance with many
of them — involving more than seven thousand
miles of land travel, and taking pot-luck with all
sorts of people. It would be odd had I not come
by a few interesting facts. These I have en
deavoured to set down ; not always in the exact
order in which they presented themselves, but
ever with the desire to do justice to the Spaniard,
his life, his country, and my own mood. The
first chapter, in some way introductory, will
prepare the reader for what is, to follow ; but
in the absence of any detailed expression of

vi PREFACE
opinion on Spain as a nation a few words may be
included here.
Poverty is the most painful and haunting fact
of Spain.
MiUions of her people go hungry throughout
their hves. Gaudy pomp, religious ceremony,
debasing superstition, the brags of life and hope
less, comfortless poverty are almost ever5rwhere
jumbled. Great cities live on little churches,
and great churches live on little towns. All Spain
is odd, and it never can be even. Then who is to
blame ? The modern Spaniard is blamed for his
laziness. Outsiders point to what the Romans
and Moors did. These were colonists, and plun
derers to boot. They brought vast treasures into
Spain, and when they settled down to depend
on the native store they did no better than the
modern Spaniard. There is not a single period
in the history of Spain when she was rich or drew
decent comfort out of her native store.
No British writer has written more enter
tainingly of Spain than George Borrow, and no
man has created a more erroneous impression.
" The most magnificent country in the world,"
he proclaimed it, which is absurd, and proves
that Borrow knew but httle about mother-earth.
Native hfe he understood, but even then his
imagination and ineradicable habit of exaggera
tion caused him to place all his subjects in a false
hght. Spain was great when the world was small.
She could produce adventurers by the thousand

PREFACE vii
where she could not raise a score of administrators ;
and the characteristic still holds good.
Of the South, the Spaniard looks that way for
hfe. All his dreams are of the East and of the
Moorish period in the West. His old romances
are based almost entirely on Arabic themes ; his
modern stage characters hail from Morocco ; his
lover of fiction is under the spell of eyes which
have captivated him in Tangier. The Moor is
the " eternal enemy," and by a strange power of
fascination is the most admired as he is the best
hated man in the world of the. Spaniards.
Some people want and even expect Spain to
change and become hke the rest of Europe.
As if it were possible ! Rather let us be thankful
for the distinctiveness of the nations, for this
world will be a dull affair if the busybodies ever
succeed in making it " much of a muchness."
If we are to criticise the Spaniard it is to say
that he is not so idle as lacking in administrative
quahties. He can often initiate where he cannot
grasp and carry through a concern. His poverty
has made him afraid, and a number of traits,
racial or acquired, leave him incapable of looking
on life and its concerns from the standpoint of
other European peoples. Nevertheless, he pre
serves a fine soul. The Spanish countryman is a
splendid fellow, as eager, industrious, clean-living
and contented as any man on earth when he is
given a chance to live decently.
Spaniards are charged with being cruel. Let

VlU

PREFACE

us rather say they are hard. They do not go
about looking for the chance to do physical harm
to any one. The Spanish mind is not easily
understood. If we allow, as we may allow, that
the British Isles hold nearly twice the population
of Spain, then we may say that so far as ears,
eyes, and hearts may reahse, we shall easily
discover ten times more misery in the British
Isles, directly due to cruelty, than the same
attention would reveal in Spain. The cruelties in
flicted in the world are generally due to ignorance.
To cite parallel cases of English and Spanish forms
of cruelty would be of httle value. Facts have
to be accounted for, and we see in the Spaniard
some justification for what he does or neglects to
do, and we cannot therefore separate a case from
its causes, or blame a nation for the inborn
defects of its individuals.
Let it be said that the bull-fight is not a true
reflex of Spanish character, any more than prize
fighting is of the English, and leave it there.
A man never strikes a woman, or at least so
rarely that few can tell of witnessing such an act.
In the Asturias I once saw a man box his wife's
ears ; and allowing for all the circumstances, I
think she thoroughly deserved it.
The Spaniards display a peculiar indifference
to the feelings of others. I have never seen a
weakhng championed, or a bad act rebuked ;
but this grows out of respect for individual
liberty, a kind of consciousness that no one has a

PREFACE ix
right to interfere. The habit of ridicule causes
much heart-pain in Spain, and it is the vice of
every class. It would be almost impossible to
make the best-educated Spaniard see the truth
of this statement, as he regards personal criticism
as one of the few spices of life. The theatre gives
abundant proof of the widespread habit of
" digging " at any and every one, wherever there
is the slightest chance. In their heated abuse the
people go beyond the bounds of truth and decency,
and the opprobrium heaped upon unquestionably
innocent girls by fiery mothers is as painful as
it is surprising. The spontaneity of the Spanish
character prevents anything like the nursing of a
grudge, but the ready thrust is no less trying.
My jealous hostess, seeing I admired a beautiful
woman, said to me in her presence, " What do
you think of her ? " I could do no less than
exclaim, " She is perfectly lovely ! " Swift and
cold as a dagger came the shaft, " She has no
back teeth ! "
The blight of Spain is in her system of govern
ment. Her public men aspire to be dictators, and
negative every wholesome desire when it leaves
no room for their personal advancement. All
decrees are of a suppressive character : press
censorship ; no public meeting ; no free education ;
no unions or alliances ; no emigration without
permit ; no petitions for work nor demonstrations
against rapacious authority. With the placing of
Government supporters in every position of

X PREFACE
profit, the taxation of every form of labour^
product, and enterprise, no] more is done than
will raise revenue, fill the pockets and increase the
boasts of those in of&ce, and add to the mountain
of make-beheve composing the pohtical and
social system of Spain.
As a number of self-governing states owning
allegiance to one monarch, Spain might do
infinitely better than she does under the present
system ; for there is an ineradicable vice in the
form of official place-making and political corrup
tion, due largely to the size of the country and the
ease with which all offences niay be hidden.
As Sancho Panza's grandmother remarked,
there are the haves and the have-nots, and all
Spain wants to be amongst the haves.
No remedy is in sight, for it is unthinkable
that any change can come from within until the
Church is virtually suppressed, free institutions
are not only tolerated, but supported by the
general government, and the bulk of the revenues
are spent in developing the provinces wherein
they are raised.
As things are, to win is to be in the right ; the
average of&cial Spaniard has no higher sense of
morality. Recent Governments have given more and
more to the Church and less and less to educa
tion. The revolutionary spirit is fostered by a
desire to break through the chains of ignorance
and stifling superstition which weigh down, sap,

PREFACE xi
and starve the bulk of the nation. Spain is
held to Europe solely by the vitaUsing stream
of commercial people from the north, and if
it were possible to reorganise and preserve her
public departments by an international com
mission she would soon vastly improve her
status and estate. But the governing and the
grasping class of Spaniard is opposed to the
European ideal and trend. He is the child of
Europe, an ignorant, but astute, greedy, and
incurably vain child.
Finally, we should not take Spain seriously,
for she is never in earnest, and as a country is
not worth foreign intervention. Foreign capital
and investments of one kind and another keep
her employed, and as the world's playground she
may still be reckoned with. So vast and varied,
so unknown, she will continue to lure and fascinate,
even to alarm. Spain remains the great unre-
vealed store of the South — a part of Europe,
a hnk with Asia, an offshoot of Africa, she leads
us from people to people, from clime to clime.
In race, language, and ideal, ever varying, she is
one only under the impulse of religious fervour ;
a mother land, yet everywhere with the un
formed heart of a child ; a remnant of the age of
mysticism ; the victim of discredited institutions ;
a holder to faith without works ; misled by an
Eastern love of gauds, favours, and rewards ;
possessed of a fine soul, but savage by reason of
the hot blood coursing through her veins. If ever

xii PREFACE
a nation was by all the laws of nature and cir
cumstance divided against itself, it must be Spain.
Portions of "Third Class," "Seville Fair,"
" The Home of Romance," " A Great Shrine,"
and various notes used in these pages have
already appeared in the Melbourne Age. For
permission to republish them I must express my
grateful thanks to Messrs. David Syme and Co.
C. B. L.
May, 1 910.

AN INVITATION
Come, ye who would be straying
From toil and heart-born care.
Where orange flowers are playing
With many a maiden's hair ;
Look where the sun is pointing
At noon across the sea.
Up ! for your soul's anointing.
And come along with me.
A respite beg or borrow
From worldly strife and strain.
We go where toil's " to-morrow,''
The dreamy land of Spain.
There, idling for a season
Along her storied ways.
May we find peace with reason
In wealth of quiet days !

CONTENTS

Preface
An Invitation
CHAPTER
I. The Breath of Life .
II. Third Class .
III. A Winter in the Hills
IV. Maria the Mirth-maker
V. Diversions at Cabello
VI. A Love Story
VII. Gastronomia .
VIII. At Seville Fair
IX. In Cold and Warm Quarters
X. The Seat of Mars
XI. La Bella Sombra
XII. A Funeral and some Vital Concerns
XIII. The Home of Romance
XIV. Vagabond Discoveries and Reflections
XV. At the Deep Arches .
XVI. A Great Shrine
XVII. The Cradle of the Cid
XVIII. The City in the Fields

PAGE V

I
20
28
42 55
6888
100112138
151160172
186 198
206
223232:

xvi

CONTENTS

CHAPTER XIX A Student in Salamanca
XX. The Pleasures of the West
XXI. A Pilgrim's Dole
XXII. By Our Lady of the Road
XXIII. Now All is Done
The Northern Gate .
Index

243256
266
283
294
312
313

QUIET DAYS IN SPAIN
CHAPTER I
THE BREATH OF LIFE
" One's self I sing— a simple separate person."
FROM a personal standpoint this book needs
no apology. It is a plain tale of incidents
and experiences in different times and places.
With much to be thankful for, tribute must be
offered to those patronesses of three Spanish
shrines who afford special protection and blessing
to vagabonds. Here thanks be given to " Our
Lady of the Road " (Leon), to " Our Lady of
Health " (Taj ares), and to " Our Lady of Rags
and Tatters " (Rio Negro). To be under the safe
guardianship of these three is to make confident
holiday. Once I served an apprenticeship in the
rural affairs of Spain ; applied the experience then
gained to life in a far-off land, where I remained,
a hard-worked exile, for fourteen years. ;
In youth I felt that the best intelligence was
shown in the capacity to create work and to in
crease the world's food-supply, and to this joint
task I bent my back and my will. Then I dis-

4 THE BREATH OF LIFE
Spain is full of them. The aim has been to write
provincially — to put the local fact on its ground.
The references to Spain's natural resources,
political and social conditions, have been compiled
with every desire to do justice to the Spanish
people and to inform the reader. Some important
provinces and phases of Spanish life are not dealt
with because they were included in the previous
book, " A Vagabond in Spain."
A critic has said " A traveller should make light
of his troubles." Had the same critic been for long
alone he might have known that an isolated man
is besieged by a passion to explain himself. The
world is in no haste to read books of facts ; and
seldom gets to know what a man's thoughts turn
to, and how he is sustained when left to himself.
He spends much of his time in looking backwards,
and away at the distances ; for if he did not so
he could make no comparisons ; everything that
was, becomes exaggerated, dwarfed, or altered, is
more drab or highly coloured. Then the manner
and the time of his thoughts change — he may not
be a busy Briton in a lotus land ; but instead,
falls into the leisurely seductive mood begotten
in the idle ways of quiet places. Wherever pos
sible I have offered the sum of Spain's merriment
to the reader ; but as Spain is not always and
everywhere merry, there must be a sombre story
and a little sermonising now and then.
After Seville one is glad to escape to the quiet
of Cordova. I came there for the third time, but

SOME SPLENDID MEMORIES 5
it is so old and full of interest as to be ever new
and unknown. A httle girl wrote to me there, " I
hope Poste Restante is a nice place, and that you
are very comfortable." That was a good beginning.
Once a tinsmith took an English sovereign from
me ; and on my return met me at the railway
station with the gold piece hanging from his
watch-chain and the welcome words, " Amigo —
I am rejoiced to see you." It was an accident
that we met ; but as he embraced me he held out
the gold ornament, and smiled, " I have always
worn this in memory of you ! " He was pain
fully cross-eyed ; but he knew his way about
Cordova, and I am indebted to him for many
little discoveries and pleasant hours.
At the Fonda I was again welcomed by a fat,
bow-legged, mutton-chopped waiter, who grabbed
my hand and shook it heartily, saying with a broad
beam of sunshine in his face, " I'm overjoyed to see
you back again." I felt he was humbugging me ;
but it took him little time to convince me that
he really remembered me. The awkward part of
this was that three or four other waiters were
brought along, and I was introduced as an old
friend of the house ! Later, I got into trouble for
not holding a friendly intercourse with all these
men before or after every meal. It can be nothing
short of vulgar, nay, worse, it is bestial, " animal,"
as they say, not to see or speak familiarly with
every one met. This is a nice trait, but it means
a lot of useless effort.

6 THE BREATH OF LIFE
Cordova is the sleepiest town in Spain, but for
a few days I was kept busy, shaking hands and
drinking cafe with those whom I had never hither
to spoken to but who " remembered seeing me
before ! " I went into a shop, and the owner at
once said, " You were here years ago." Doubting
his memory I said " No " ; but he " Yes," and
convinced me that he remembered me, though he
referred to fifteen years previously ! He talked
for half an hour, until I asked somewhat im
patiently, "Here, give me what I want and let
me go ? "
This hurt him, and in my embarrassment I went
off forgetting my walking-stick, which has a plant
spud at the end. Soon I missed it, and the mo
ment I appeared in the doorway he called to one
of the half-dozen boys who stood to one side of
him, " Here, Nino, get the busy foreign gentleman
his toothpick ! "
Cordova is full of fun, and chiefly so, I think,
because one has time to observe and to let the
humour sink in. In the market a small boy with
a big apron and a pompous manner was offering
half a mean kid to a woman for a peseta. She
objected that it was very small, and he fairly
smothered her with, " Woman ! do you want half
a bull for tenpence ! "
On a piece of waste ground outside the town
were over eighty heaps of manure and litter, large
and small, suitable for dressing land. This had
been collected from the streets by men and boys,

CONFLICTING EMOTIONS 7
who sell it to farmers and market-gardeners on
their homeward journeys. On one tiny heap, a
mere bucketful, was planted a card with " Cheap !
Quick ! Giving up business ! "
This reminds me of some children who, born in
Cordova, were taken to America, and, returning
after years, said in an ecstasy, " Oh, don't we love
it all ! — even the dear old smells ! "
A daily paper had this bit of news : " Nine
boys pla5dng with dynamite are friends no longer ;
their pieces are not likely to be identified and
obtain absolution."
At the post office I left fivepence, and calling the
next day recognised the man with whom I left it ;
he denied being present on the occasion ; he was,
but when sure that I knew him, he fumbled in his
pockets, and handing over the fivepence remarked,
" My honour is worth more than fifty cents ! "
Quite so ; but that was his way of putting himself
in the right, for he wished me to believe that I had
swindled him.
My cross-eyed friend was named Hijos de
Cordova — Sons of Cordova ! To what remote
period does that name date ? Whether this
served as a passport I know not ; but he had no
difficulty in gaining an audience with the proud
Marchioness de 0  and persuading her to
allow me to inspect her apartments. This lady
was the wife of a great gamester, and, though
she had inherited three large fortunes, was very
poor, and lived by retailing the treasures of her

8 THE BREATH OF LIFE
large old house ; a veritable museum, containing
beautiful furniture, old lace and silk by the hun
dredweight, many rare cabinets, fine carvings,
and a rich collection of fans and rosaries in all
sorts of material. Unequal to purchasing any of
these, I made choice of some things which were
regarded as lumber — an immense tarima — an
octagonal wooden device, five feet across, of
carved wood ornamented with brass. This con
trivance rests on the floor and supports the char
coal brazier, while the company sits round and
uses the edge of the tarima as a footstool. A
more interesting find was a muga — ^ladies' palfrey
chair — in boxwood, with ivory and mother-of-
pearl, the arm-rests representing two swan-necks
and heads. The muga is no longer seen on the
roads of Spain ; the peasantry do not employ it,
and the ladies journey by private coach or train.
Among the lumber were some disahumadors —
incense burners used for sweetening and refreshing
rooms. They are brass bowls on stands and have
perforated covers. The custom was to macerate
rosemary, lavender, dry roses, and other sweets
of the garden and field, and, adding spices, mix
these with hot ashes placed in the disahumador.
The lumber-room also held broken statuary, win
dow and door fittings containing heraldic figures
and coats-of-arms. It seemed as if the Marchioness
had taken and kept whatever would preserve
hnks with the past. There were some beautiful
azulejos — coloured tiles — from the celebrated

PRIDE IN TWO HOMES 9
castle of Niebla, near Huelva, which, built in the
thirteenth century, was declared original in every
detail, and perfect in all. Here also lay several
partadors — curiously shaped brass rings large as
a cheese-plate ; they are still used to keep the
cloth clean when the puchero or other cooking
vessel is placed on the table. These, with some
others, I bought ; but the pride of the Marchioness
stood in the way of her taking money, and I was
told, in a roundabout fashion, that I might leave
it with the doorkeeper. It would be easy to
moralise over this collection of objects, dead and
alive ; but, after all — it is the history of the
world !
One day a wizened, but pretty, old dame stood
at her door polishing a small copper bowl — a
diminutive puchero or pipkin ; the shape was
rare, the material of fine tone, and I determined
to buy it. The value was but a few pesetas ; I
offered as much, and she said, " We have no
bread, my man is away looking for some ; but
the bowl was my mother's." This was no excuse
for raising the price. It was evident she loved
the thing ; but the money was a small fortune,
so she took it and I went ofl. Later I was over
taken by a decrepit old man, who held out his
hat in one hand and what I had paid for the bowl
in the other. I saw the situation, for he said as
plainly as possible, " Here is your money, I want
my bowl." I asked " Why ? " " It is not pos
sible that we sell it ; it was her mother's." The

ID THE BREATH OF LIFE
duty was plain. I gave him back the bowl and
let him keep the money ; and felt I had had a
good day.
In spite of the many beautiful things to be found
in Spanish houses of the upper classes, there is
nothing to correspond with the dining, drawing-
room, or library of a British home. Ornaments
are rarely seen, and all small and beautiful things
are kept in vitrinas — glass cabinets— rinconeras —
corner closets — rare old chests, and boxes on high
legs. There is everywhere a craze for reflecting
glasses and gold-gilding ; in a small drawing-room
were fifteen deeply gilt-framed mirrors, four of
which were several feet in breadth and depth.
There were also, besides these mirrors, twenty-
two pieces of reflecting glass in furniture, so that it
was impossible to find any position where one
did not get side, back, and upside-down views of
oneself and the rest of the company !
The most conspicuous want in Spain is domestic
comfort. The houses are always dangerously cold
and dank in winter ; there are no fireplaces, and
therefore no fires, except in charcoal braziers ;
and no hot bath is possible, or even a cold one, in
the average house. Easy chairs and couches are
only used in the best houses, cafes, and clubs.
Carpets and rugs are rarely seen, and there are
no books, hobbies, or personal employments to
give an air of ordered thought or individuality to
the home. Of social life in private houses there is
nothing. One is never introduced to a person

PRACTICAL ADVERTISING ii
without the Spaniard saying, " I hope I may see
you at your house ; it is in the Calle So-and-so,
and always open." But should you go there he
will be taken aback ; and it is a thousand to one
he will regard the visit as a " barbarity." What
is more, he has no gift of conversation at home,
and, as you may not see his wife or play with his
children, the call is generally a dull failure and
discomforting. I write this because I would not
have the reader bhnd to the shortcomings of
Spanish life. My concern is to make fair com
parisons, for we hold very erroneous impressions
of the Spaniard, his country and its concerns.
Clothes-hnes are too dear for many, and much
of the laundry is spread on roofs, floors, pavements,
and other space available. One wonders that the
garments can be perfectly clean, yet they are
surprisingly so. All the clothes are laved in cold
water, and but little soap is used, a powerfully
caustic lye — made by immersing wood ashes in
water — taking its place. The finest lady and the
grandest seiior have their clothes returned from
the laundry without any wrapping, and the well-
ironed garments are used as advertisements ;
boys, men, and women stop likely patrons in the
street and exhibit petticoats, shirts, and other
things ; all showing the deepest interest in the
garments and the lavanderas' work.
Cordova is the home of the torero — bullfighter.
Out of the ring the torero must live quietly ; and
from time immemorial this old city has been his

12 THE BREATH OF LIFE
asylum during the winter season. Half the Calle
Gondomar is taken up with cafes, clubs, and ring
men. Their short jacketas, and pecuhar walk,
generally proclaim them. Also, they shave their
temples ; but many other Spaniards do this ; so
to make sure it is a torero one looks at the back
of the head, as the bullfighter has his hair drawn
up like a woman to form a pigtail, which is
braided and pinned on his crown.
The stranger is surprised at the toreros' quiet
ness, the absence of noise and display. You realise
the truth of what the people of Verona said of
Dante, " the man who has been in hell."
The bullfighter saves his smiles for the ring. In
private life he is the steadiest and most silent of
men. Night after night I have sat with them in
clubs and cafes to hear only the most conven
tional talk. One night, I remember, eleven
prominent fighters sat together for over four
hours ; they drank coflee, and smoked puras —
cigars — incessantly. Now and then, one would
speak and be eloquent with gesture, but the
others would turn their heads, in a sign of in
difference, and quiet would return.
I grow to like the Spaniard for saying, " To
morrow will be soon enough." To-day he would
hve. Every day he " takes the sun." That is the
mode of the South — not to take the air, but the
sun. The Spaniard fears air as if it were a pesti
lence, as it is in some of the narrow winding
streets and deep-set windowless rooms.

"SHE IS SO CIRCUMSPECT AND WHITE" 13
Idling through a long afternoon on a seat in
the Gran Capitan, I watched the crowd go to and
fro. There were hundreds of lovely eyes, but only
one pair of fresh pink cheeks. The dark rooms,
and the general use of the shawl over the head,
keep the skin very white ; and this is intensified
by the use of rice powder. Hats are supplanting
mantillas ; the mantilla may soon be a thing of
the past ; few young women wear it, excepting at
Mass and during seasons of merriment. The
southern walk is always alluring. One sees every
woman's petticoat, but never an ankle, for they
are wonderfully deft and circumspect in holding
their skirts, and when sitting never cross the
feet. These southern Spaniards — the business
folk of all grades — take their wives and children
for walks every afternoon, and leave their shops
and concerns to the care of others ; where no others
exist the shop is closed that the day may yield
some satisfying leisure. This may not be " good
business," but it is more rational and less glutton
ous than that of " enterprising " people. In this
old city are great open spaces, parks, drives, and
promenades where thousands of people strut,
stroll, and rest every day in the year. We Anglo-
Saxons often seem ashamed to rest, and it is
positively dangerous to admit that we do not
beheve in work if it burdens and stifles us. The
Spaniards of the towns are incapable of slavery
to the loss of self. Their lives are narrow and
simple, but are not painful. Aspiring less they

14 THE BREATH OF LIFE
do not complain as we do ; their ignorance does
not make them afraid ; whilst their sense of his
tory imposes a philosophic calm.
If men feared not poverty and the misfortunes
they imagine money will keep away, we should
hear little of the cant of " getting on." There may
be neither wisdom nor happiness in doing nothing
and caring less, but surely there is a middle course
— a way by which we may earn our independence
and find time to enjoy life. I used to be impatient
of the slow-coach ; now I am impatient of those
who are rushing to get ahead. Greed is the
ugliest, as it is the most pitiful, thing on the face
of the earth ; and greed and ignorance are brothers.
The business side of Spanish life is full of interest ;
one finds much to admire in it.
A singular contrivance in the high towers takes
the place of bells on Good Friday ; this is the
" mattraca " — three long boxes of heavy wood
arranged round a spindle, with several roughly
fashioned hammers with rings in their handles,
through which a rod is run to keep them in place.
At short intervals during the whole of Good
Friday the mattraca is turned round, grindstone
fashion, and creates a most awful din. The ham
mers are laws unto themselves, and fall anyhow
on the boxes, according to their inclination and the
rate at which the spindle is turned. It is always
risky to guess at origins ; but as I can find no
clue to the origin of the mattraca, I fall back on
the belief that it was intended to inform the

ACROSS THE YEARS 15
multitude of the building of, or nailing of Christ
to, the cross.
To know cities I walk round them, and next
ascend their highest towers. Conscious that I can
never know Cordova thoroughly, I often climbed
to the Cathedral tower, which stands independent
of the Mosque — across a wide orange-planted patio
— where I could survey the city below ; the river
and the valley ; the cultivated uplands and the
wild Sierras — a world complete and rich with the
story of two thousand years. It is strange that
we see time's story more clearly in some lands
than in others. Few can picture life in the British
Islands two thousand years ago ; but it is easy to
see over twice that time in the lands around the
Mediterranean. The South is our cradle — we
had not our birth in Britain ; we evolved nothing
there ; the organised concerns came to us ; we
are nearer to the home of Lucan and Seneca than
to the tumulus which may be that of Boadicea on
Primrose Hill.
As I never could look on a hill without wishing
to see the prospect on the other side, Cordova's
tower led me to explore the country in all direc
tions round. When looked down upon, the city
is the colour of curry powder — a soft yellow,
mingled with grey and white. The roofs are com
posed of pale red tiles with a yellowish brown
lichen feeding upon them, and the city dust and
whitewash mingle to produce an unvarying tone.
The oleander, arbutus, gumcistus, rosemary, and

i6 THE BREATH OF LIFE
lavender, cover vast areas, and in their season
make the mountains and valleys beautiful. Most
lovely of all are the purple and violet bugloss, the
corn-poppy and cornflower, the purple pea, the
iris olata, and a yellow cowslip-like flower whose
name I have forgotten. In Spain one sees to a great
distance ; for not only are the view points high,
but the light is strong and the atmosphere dry
and clear. To take to the hills in spring and look
upon the world round Cordova is to know some
thing of the joy of life.
Early one morning I went to some high ground
on the Seville road, there to gather plants of iris
olata. The sun shone bright and warm, and the
bag filled ; I ate a crust and sat down to admire
the immense page of beautiful life that lay open
before me. Then I slept, and was aroused by a
pack of twenty-five lean lurcher dogs. They were
all coupled, save one, and controlled by a man
dressed in leather who had a rude horn slung at
the shoulder and was seated on a long-tailed white
barb. The dogs were a landowner's rabbit pack out
for exercise. After exchanging the time of the
day with the huntsman, and receiving a most
inquisitive sniffing from his dogs, I was left to
myself for the remainder of the day. But those
dogs and their primitive keeper gave wings to
my imagination. I studied the great landscape
again and again — as millions before me had done.
I saw Cordova spreading over what are now
fallow and hunting fields, debris, and the refuse

A STORIED SCENE 17
left by the great ancient city. Full in view was
the site of Medina Azzahra, that wonderful palace
which Abdulraman the Third built for his slave
wife, the mother of the warrior Almanzor. To-day
no man knoweth for a surety where that palace
stood ; but it is believed to have been about four
miles distant from the present Cordova, on a
natural terrace at the foot of the Sierra Morena.
The great convent of San Geronimo (1405), built
from the cOarser remains of the palace, is in its
turn in a state of ruin.
Following the river the eye caught the once
famous castle of Almodovar, and further on were
watch-towers, villages, and towns, heaps of
masonry, lines where roads had run, aqueducts,
vestiges of bridges and pillars, marking the way
to the great river. Further off stood the city ;
but so hoary as to show no signs of life.
I sat and mused quietly, happy in the reflection
that time, if it make ruin of all things, brings us
also to a sense of peace. Once or twice I felt guilty
of idhng — felt I must be up and off and busy ; but
I checked myself as I said aloud, " Shall I not
dare to he at ease upon the grass, to be warmed
by the sun, to smell the odours of clean earth
and pungent weed ; may I not read my history
here, and for a time rest unconcerned ? What
need to care about news and the business of the
world ? Here is enough, for I can dream, and
ponder over the past." I protest because we have
no paper called " The Past." If there were such

i8 THE BREATH OF LIFE
a blessed organ, I verily believe I could summon
energy enough to read it regularly — ^but that
word " regularly " is to me the most scaring in
the dictionary ! Nothing scares me like the thought
of having to do anything regularly. Ugh !
Soothed and made strong by the lessons of the
day, I passed the evening in a cafe where the
three or four hundred men present were interested,
for an hour or two, by the curiosity of a box of
wooden matches of English manufacture ! These
are the children of Europe, and that is why one
rests with them.
The garden of the British Consul is somewhere
about two thousand years old ! It is in the heart
of early Roman Cordova, and has been occupied
in succession by Roman, Goth, Moor, and Span
iard. The site would suggest human dwellings
from the beginnings of civilisation, for it is on
gently rising ground, safe from, yet near to, the
river. This old garden is surrounded by walls
as high as three-storeyed houses ; parts of it are
said to be Roman. I pruned the roses and the
vines, and did some digging, and grew to be
happy there. I wished to remain, cloistered
and confined ; a glad prisoner among scented
flowers ; the vine, the orange, and lemon ;
breadths of blue and white violets ; heliotrope
that climbed to the second-storey windows, and
the babbhng of water-brooks which ran by the
brick-bordered paths and beds. Only the past
has a true voice. I idle that I may hear, and

LIFE IS NOW OR NEVER 19
close my eyes that I may see the many-coloured
pageant of Time.
When I had worked myself out of a job in the
garden, the Consul came home, and with him, his
world. We fell to talking of living in the day and
looking back — my way — as against " working to
save " for the future (as if one could do any
thing of the kind), and getting forward, as he
affects to persuade himself he does. Yet I notice
that he feels weighed with the cares of life more
than I. This may mean he has a higher moral
sense ; but perhaps it does not. Still, he cannot
alter his nature ; nor can I. Anyhow, I pruned
the roses, tied the weak ones to upright lines to
aid their flow of sap, and felt I had done a little
to revive waning life in Cordova's ancient bones.

CHAPTER II
THIRD CLASS
TAKE the first-class for comfort, the second
for duUness, the third for company; and
one is not likely to go wrong in Spain. To get
more animal heat, save money and know the
dehghts of good company, I travelled third. The
morning was intensely cold when we set out from
Ronda to Malaga, snow capping the heights and
hoar-frost spanghng the banks and timber wall
of the railway station. Here, as in Ireland, most
of the officials are employed in ringing bells and
blowing whistles, and yet many who intend to
travel lose the train, for there's a nasty habit of
ending the clanging and screeching five or ten
minutes before starting time, and then allowing
the train to steal out of the station quietly, like a
thief in the night ; and one can only imagine what
trouble and choice Spanish is caused thereby.
Our train was a particularly stealthy brute, and
fairly winked at its own cleverness in leaving some
poor wretch in the lurch at almost every stopping
place. But back to the thirds.
We are seventy-two in number, in an open
carriage of six divisions. 20

THE MAID IN SPAIN 21
To keep us in order there are two military police,
two carabineers, or armed road guards, and two
other soldier-like policemen with three harmless-
looking prisoners. There are also five or six
soldiers in uniform, and as many more wearing —
that was all their uniform — forage caps — pre
sumably these are recruits. The rest of the com
pany is made up of small business men, farmers,
and market women, the latter with overflowing
baskets as big as themselves. Then there are boys
going from home for the first time, and looking
very sad as the familiar landscape fades away.
There are quite a number of young women, too,
for Malaga is a large city, and servants claim
higher wages there than in the country. The girls
are all in black — plain in style as the garments of
a nun, though they wear fine scarfs or shawls about
their shoulders, and have their hair beautifully
dressed with flowers, ribbons, or lace. The
Spanish women are born coiffeuses, and hold their
heads with such pride as to make the plainest face
amongst them in some way attractive. A girl
near us is a real Southern beauty of twenty. She
was married but six months ago, is now a widow,
and is going into service for a home and one dollar
a month. Three shillings and fourpence — no more
and no less. Little as she may know of the ways
of English housekeeping, she is so beautifully clean,
fresh, and strong, and has such a sweet, honest
face, that she would prove a godsend to the
average British household. This girl talked with

22 THIRD CLASS
a neighbour ; the others sat quiet and were dis
regarded by the men, for it is contrary to custom
and most improper for a man to enter into con
versation with, or take the shghtest notice of, a
girl when she is alone. The woman of Spain is
influenced by the Moorish occupation, which ex
tended over nearly 800 years. Where the Moor
did not settle, the Spanish woman is a Latin in
the creed of custom ; but in the ancient strong
hold of the Moor she is often found to be as
Moorish as the woman of Morocco. All the elderly
women wear black handkerchiefs over their heads,
and cover their noses with black shawls as
Moorish women do theirs with white. Spanish
women are mistresses of the needle, and few
nations equal them in the art of fine sewing.
Hence one can study embroideries and laces,
dainty collars, babies' caps and shoes, as well as
the flowered waistcoats and fancy shirt fronts
of the men. It is all very charming and true to
one's dream of the peasant and the life which
begins and ends in quiet labour.
The first part of the country is very poor, and
one literally shivers when looking on its churlish
slopes and half-impotent valleys, and realises the
splendid courage that keeps the people true to their
land and the labour which yields so little return.
Of all there is to see in rural Spain, nothing charms
one more than the faces of the peasant-folk, more
especially of the elderly men. They are nearly all
Lord Thurlows — they look so profoundly wise.

THE CATETO— COUNTRYMAN 23
The Spanish peasant is always clean shaven — at
any rate, he gets a clean shave now and then.
Meet a company of country Spaniards passing into
a town, and they look like so many stage brigands.
Meet them returning, and they appear as so many
pleasant-faced human sheep. They are shaved
and clean again.
This same sheepish peasant has a mother wit
of great swiftness and charm. He never states
the simple fact, since he is always equal to a fine
figure of speech. Even his boasting is splendid ;
he does it with such cool conviction that you are
bound to believe him. Always a simple soul, he
has high courage, and is, I verily believe, the
peasant gentleman of Europe. He is profoundly
respectful to all tradition and custom, and shows
his real nature by the way he resents any offence
against his country. Having acquired the fine art
of starving gracefully, he must needs be thin, with
a clear eye, and alert for the chance of assisting in
the concerns of his neighbour ; neglect of social
duty being the crime he ranks highest.
Of words he is without end ; but as they are
either musical or eloquent of meaning the more he
talks the better one is pleased.
The conversation in the third-class carriage was
almost entirely of money — or the want of it, bar
gains, and lack of work and bread, for the land
is very poor and the people in a chronic state of
want. It is a stock saying in Spain (goodness
knows how old) that " the first element is bread "

24 THIRD CLASS
— one hears the word " pan " twenty times to that
of any other. Where friends recognised each other
or joined or left the train, there was always much
to please, and the soul warmed to the words of
parting — " Always felicity," and " Be you with
God until we meet again." For economy those
who could afford a bite had brought it with them.
One man, much better off than the others, had a
baked kid, and so we broke the Levitical law, as
we ate it in its mother's milk. Another man had
a small skin-sack of wine ; so we again happily
broke the law, this time of Mahomet. In spite of
these and other offences, the train kept to the
rails, and we travelled on. A mother, with several
children, had boiled eggs for their sustenance. The
eggs seemed of no account, as compared with the
shells, which they stuck on their noses, that they
might look beautiful or terrifying. Poorer folk ate
acorns, raw or roasted, also lupin seed, the turnip
like stump of the native palm, and other odds and
ends in great variety.
Spaniards are good-natured, and never eat,
drink, or smoke without offering the lion's share
to the stranger and friend ahke. It is pohte and
customary to refuse till hard pressed, but the
stranger is expected to accept, and so we sampled
a good deal of stuff, good, bad, and indifferent.
In spite of this, at a change-station restaurant we
got a six-course meal of dehciously cooked food and
clean, sound wine, all for about is. 4d. in Enghsh
money. I mention this because the Spaniards have

A MEAL AND SOME EXTRAS 25
before all others the art of serving a meal. In
England, unless one goes to a distinctly expensive
place, the aim seems to be to put as complete a
meal as possible on one or two plates. In Spain
a meal is a present joy and a help over the remain
der of the road. Of course, we smelt garlic ; simply
smelt or scented it — that's the word. One should
not know that one scents or tastes garlic ; then
it is a most appetising and comforting factor in a
meal. Our only real grievance is roused by the
railway bell and the shrieking whistle. This in
tolerable combination of noises began almost the
moment we sat down to dine, and did not end till
after the first course was disposed of. We got up
a row between the waiter and some of the band
so as to save our own time for the business of eat
ing and drinking ; but as all the performers could
play and talk at the same time, we were not com
forted much. Then the crowd took sides ; some
said the train would, and some that it wouldn't,
go without us. Anyhow, we caught it, and a good
many words in the vernacular of the province.
More than half our journey of 150 miles lay
through tunnels and across bridges, spanning splen
did chasms, in wild and absolutely sterile moun
tains. Here and there a torrent leapt or fell and
boiled, passing on with any particles of soil its
churning may have made, and never depositing a
grain which might be seized and husbanded by
the peasant. Then we passed into a stronger hght,
and where the sun shone warm, and there were

26 THIRD CLASS
wide, roaming purple hills dotted with pure white
cots and little squares, or irregular windings of
green olive and orange trees, growing wherever
sufficient soil and moisture might be found. The
train itself seemed glad to escape from the eternally
bare and bhghted hills, and rattled on at a great
pace, fairly preening itself in the green warm hght
which bathed the land of the orange and the vine.
Then once more we shot into hills, and chmbed
and panted and choked in the tunnels, and on
coming forth again saw long winding valleys and
men far below, no larger than ants — and, like
them, busy — scratching at their mother earth.
Our final run was through a valley near the coast,
where oranges filled the railway platforms, and
boys and girls sat in rows packing the fruit into
cases. Six a penny, and very large and sweet.
This woke the desires of most of us, and the whole
company reeked of orange, even to the exclusion
of tobacco smoke, which is saying a good deal.
The houses are pretty and homelike now, for the
land is generous, and beautiful too. Everybody
seems a good deal richer and happier, and boast
ing increases, as if all in sight were ours, and life
a perpetual journey and holiday. Ten miles from
our destination the women began to get their
parcels ready. Then the landscape faded, for we
were all self-centred and concerned for the uncer
tain life ahead. Unused to train travel, nearly all
the men stood up, and so filled the carriage that
it was dark, stuffy, and horrible. By and by we

THE ROAD ETERNAL 27
smelt the air of the ocean, saw masts and sails, and
a moment later the wide blue plain of the sea —
that Camino eternal, which is an everlastingly
open road and way of hope for us all.

CHAPTER III
A WINTER IN THE HILLS
TO gain a knowledge of the conditions of hfe
and the nature of some rural industries in
this locality, I passed a winter in the hills between
Malaga and Granada. The country ran up to
several thousand feet ; and the estate farmed lay
exposed to the snows and raw cold of the Sierra
Nevada. Our house occupied a gap in the ranges
whence we looked over numberless hills, deep
gorges, isolated houses, the mighty Sierras, and
in clear weather we could see the Mediterranean,
with its African shore sixty miles away. The in
dustry of the region consisted of cultivating wine
grapes, the growing of olives, of evergreen oak
for timber and charcoal, and the cultivation of
a few vegetable crops for local consumption.
Estates of this character employ few regular hands.
It is the custom to engage a large number of men
to perform a seasonable operation, and then to
discharge them till they are wanted for the harvest.
In Spain rural employment does not run to more
than seven months in the year ; the rest of the
time is a terrible fight for the workers to keep
body and soul together. Over a hundred and
28

THE PEASANTS' LOT 29
fifty men were brought together on the Pineda
estate. Where they came from seemed a mystery,
for looking out on the land it appeared almost
destitute of life ; but tucked away between the
hills were villages. It was the gente, or village
people, of these little communities who formed the
labour supply. The great majority of the men
came in rags ; their bodies lean. They looked
hungry and wore a hunted look, which made one
almost afraid of them. But they were good at
heart ; their only failing was an unconquerable
hatred for those whom they thought favoured
by an additional week's work or an extra penny
a day. It was the custom to engage men in groups.
Each gente as it came along would elect its spokes
man, with whom the manager dealt, sorting and
sizing-up the group and offering a price for each
man's labour according to what he judged he was
worth. Most of the men had been cold and hungry
for months, and were so weak as to be incapable
at the beginning of doing a good day's work.
Hence it became necessary to feed them well and
work them lightly for the first week or two. The
food consisted of fat bacon, cod-fish, olive oil,
chick-peas, rice, and potatoes, boiled into a slushy
soup. There was also bread, black figs, dried
plums, and a few other odds and ends of a filhng
if not a fattening character. At six, or long before
daylight, the men would rise from the sheds where
they lay all night in their clothes, and covered

30 A WINTER IN THE HILLS
with no more than a single blanket or plaited
string-rug, and without any sort of wash, would
each take a piece of bread and a handful of black
figs, and proceed to the work of the day. This
consisted of cleaning and pruning vines, and cover
ing the roots where the soil had been washed away
by the force of storm-water. Other groups pruned
trees, tying the wood into pack-bundles, whilst
the inferior timber and brushwood were converted
into charcoal.
By the aid of these men over thirteen hundred
acres of land were cleaned and cultivated during
the winter. Not a single animal was employed by
us, except to carry food and water to the labourers
and to bring back timber or charcoal. All this
hand labour was a necessity, for the country was
so steep it was impossible to employ a plough or
any other draught implement. To get much work
done the groups from the various villages were
placed side by side. This led to their racing, and
trying to outdo each other — a habit which the
Capataz — overseer — approved, but which de
veloped much bad blood and a good deal of strife.
In fact, the danger of rinas — ^rows — ^was so great
that a number of rural guards were employed with
guns to stand over the men. The morning would
see every group friendly with the others ; but as
the day wore on and six men of one group would
fail to keep in line with six of another, or where
two groups were of equal numbers, one often com
posed of the young men and lusty, passed the

JEALOUSY AND STRIFE 31
other, consisting of enfeebled or less capable
workers, blood and temper would boil. I noticed
that the crookedness of the human line across
the hill-side varied in proportion to the amount
of anger and jealousy abroad. I used to sit and
calculate where the onslaught would come from,
when I saw there were obvious signs. Sometimes
those who were lagging would start a song, and
show great courage in singing, though they failed
in physical strength. But more often the leading
men would start the singing, and at times one of
these would drop out and, standing erect, sing a
song in praise of his village. The comparison was
usually of rats and mice, or mules and donkeys :
thus :
" In my village we are rats, astute and strong ;
In other pueblos only weak mice are to be found ";
or, " If you would have your cargo carried straight home,
The mules and men of my pueblo can see it done";
or, " I heard of a village where all the mules are donkeys.
And when the load slips the men are not strong enough to
put it straight again ! "
These couplets and snatches, sung with great
glee and well-directed expression, would send the
blood of the losing gentes to boiling-point. Lan
guage is not necessary to the Spaniard ; with his*
elbow alone he can communicate with fidelity
every thought and emotion. There would be a
looking along the lines ; tools would strike the
ground or grip the vine as if with bitter hate ;

32 A WINTER IN THE HILLS
hats would be tipped back from foreheads ; hafid-
kerchiefs retied on the head ; spitting would be
come violent ; the men would chew rather than
smoke their cigarettes. Then with a " Come men,"
from one who could no longer endure the strain,
a group would rise like locusts and fly at the
antagonists. The tools became weapons — the
mattock-like spade — an immense hoe with a heavy
ring — and the pruning - knife — a hatchet, sickle
and sword in one, — a truly dreadful weapon !
Whatever was in the hand was good enough to
do some damage with.
We had no serious fights during the whole winter,
but never a day went by without some display of
force and fury and appeal for fair play. A year or
two previously no fewer than four men had been
killed in feudal fights on the estate. A common
source of jealousy lay in the selection of the branch
overseers, for nearly every group claimed to be
made up of men born to direct the labours of
others. As only a few foremen were needed, the
favoured gentes were the best hated and most
maligned. In selecting foremen we heard rare
tales of personal ability. The custom was to select
men for their swearing capacity ; for if a man
could not raise the saints or possessed a splendid
private vocabulary of epithets and ugly expres
sions, he was distinctly unfitted for the duties of
a Capataz. For the fun of the thing, when we had
listened to a man's account of himself, we would
say discouragingly, " But you are no good at

THE ART OF CURSING 33
abuse." At this he would jump back, as far as
his legs and his indignation would carry him ; and
lifting his rag of a hat or handkerchief, make a
bow that was full of denial, obeisance, and appeal.
" Senor," he would inquire, " have you heard me ?
Is there anyone who has not heard me ? Am I
not known as the word-slinger ? My God, I am ! "
Then, " Stop, seiior ; listen ! " And no doubt we
had to ! Of course, it is impossible to give any idea
of the epithets and the string of abuse such a
master in the art would pour out upon an imaginary
group of lazy rascals working under his direction.
And sometimes he would praise us without a
blush, telling the men we were the best employers,
generous with food and pay, had the kindest
hearts, even lost money in our desire to support
those who had not the sense to know when they
were well off. No matter wherever else we failed
in our judgment, we were generally safe in choos
ing men who could swear well. But this does not
shock much in Spain, where everybody swears,
and not always quietly ; the swear-words are
ugly, cruel, often quite terrifying, only that repeti
tion through familiarising softens them, and it is
only when out of Spain that one realises its full
significance. When the men had become fairly sleek and
lusty, they would petition for a reduced ration.
This was in measured quantities of flour, peas,
rice, bacon-fat, and other articles allowed per man
or group. The petitioners would ask that they

34 A WINTER IN THE HILLS
might be put on three-quarter or half rations, and
some as low as quarter rations, where the full
ration was barely sufficient to sustain. Their
object was to save and take home unused rations.
There is no Sunday in the country parts of
Spain, no fixed hours of labour or anything like a
full-stop to it. People work when they can or
must ; hence a young man will work from twenty-
five to thirty days on end, and then rest for two
or three days. An older man may work for a
fortnight or three weeks ; quite an old man will
take a rest once a week. But on our estate we
paid off every third week. The wages ran from
one to two reals a day — that is twopence to
fourpence — in addition to the rough food and
shelter ; but there were always some men who
worked for nothing, for when we could employ no
more they would say, " I will stay for food only."
Even this was refused them, but sometimes they
could not be turned away. One man was a most
extraordinary character. He was mad ; but his
was the madness that keeps others to reason. He
was the biggest, liveliest, and most awesome
person in all the world, I believe. He was about
thirty years of age, nearly seven feet in height,
very straight-limbed, and had unusually long
arms. He did not shave, but clipped his beard
into a black stubble. His garments were nothing
but rags. A rag bound his hair into a shock ; a
sheepskin apron was split and tied round each
leg to as low as the knee. In the wildest weather,

AN ENTHRALLING FIGURE 35
and it was always perishing, he wore no coat,
and his tattered shirt had no sleeves below his
muscles. His feet and ankles were swathed in
rags and leather straps ; and the dirt caked over
him would probably have weighed more than the
entire material of his garments. He came re
peatedly before I told him he might stay for
a meal or two.
In front of the house, beyond a ravine, there
was a high promontory, planted with vines, and
an escarpment fully five hundred feet deep. A
track passed from its base, and it was customary
for the prunings of the vines to be thrown from
the cliff into the valley, and thence brought home
by pack-mules. I put my giant madman to
gather and tie the prunings into bundles ; and,
knowing how Spaniards detest working alone, I
thought that he, mad as he was, would soon tire
of solitude and clear off. Not a bit of it !
He had a wonderful liking for work, and dis
regarded the groups of men on the hill-sides. A
pay-day came, but he did not appear. He seemed
afraid to come in, lest he should be cleared off
with the rest. From the house I could see him
working like a slave, running at each necessary
piece of pruning as if it were alive and would escape
him ; tucking it with fury under his great long arm,
then twisting a binder round each bundle when it
was complete, and hurr5ang to the edge of the
cliff. Here he would raise it high above his head ;
and, with a mighty thrust, fling it clear of the

36 A WINTER IN THE HILLS
rocks, and bend over to watch it fall light as a leaf
into the valley below. Words give no idea of the
strength of the picture or the emotions roused
by the behaviour of that man. First of all, the
reader should know something of Spanish gesture ;
he should know what a poor Spaniard feels when
he is giving and not asking ; he should know
something of that reason which is madness, and
of that madness which is reason. I knew my
man sufficiently well to imagine his face as he
stood out there on the edge of the cliff. He had
wonderful eyes, and all his face was full of ex
pression. If mad within, he was eloquent without.
I felt I knew his thoughts and feelings, and grew
to be as fascinated by him as he was concerned for
himself. Yet he did not count. The work and his
strength were the only things that mattered. He
seemed mad only in his impatience to show that
he was neither mad nor incompetent. He could
work, he would work, and he did work. He was
out before day, never home before dark ; there
was for him no wet day, no snowy day, no Sunday.
Time after time he had to scratch through the
snow for his prunings ; he piled a heap of stones
at a point of the cliff, so that he might reach it in
safety when it was snow-capped and uncertain,
and throw from there his bundles into space !
Pay-day came, and another three or more ; but
he never appeared. At times I confronted him,
and gave him a cigarette ; a shrug of the shoulders
was his thanks. When the prunings were gathered

IN ALL THINGS TRUE 37
I felt I must keep him to other work on the ridge.
So I hinted that he might collect the loose stones
and make little supporting walls under vines,
which were liable to be denuded of soil. His joy
at finding his work recognised was beautiful to
see ; and though he never changed in his attitude,
all his words, which were few, and his gestures,
which were many, comprised a great boast of his
power to work. Whenever he shook his head as
a display of ability and strength I knew he was
right, to the extent that I trembled. From his
great height he would send a sweeping glance down
his ragged front, put out a foot, and with a huge
hand smite his chest, as if to say, " Is all this
mighty frame to go for nothing ? " and there was
a look of contempt for the mere mice of men whose
claims were always recognised. He was as one
dumb, yet possessed of a great truth which must
be spoken. I became enthralled by him. I did not
want to understand any more of him, or to com
pare him with other saner men ; I was content
with this wonderful animal, for such he was :
there was no trace of cunning, meanness, or
deception about him. He worked for four solid
months out on that ridge, often in the bitterest
weather ; alone, unfriended, and unpaid. One
morning he was told to come in ; there was no
more work, and he must go home. He bowed
with the dignity of an ambassador, and said
by a sign, " It is your will." I intended paying
him as much as the others, but was called away.

38 A WINTER IN THE HILLS
and returning, found him gone ! He had kept his
word, had worked for pan solo — for bread only —
and was satisfied. But I was not content to let
him go on those terms. I sent down to the pueblo,
where he had a crooning old mother, and asked
him to come back. Then I gave him money,
food, and a matchbox full of tobacco. He was
not overcome, for he was unalterable. His mad
ness was complete in so far that it left him in
capable of varying his emotions. But when he
had gone Pineda lost much of its charm for me.
I used often to look from my window, or from
the verandah, at all hours, but in vain ; not again
could I see that great rugged statue of a man
with his arms outstretched towards the bundles
of faggots as he hurled them over the edge of the
cliff. When we decided to pay off we would send word
to Malaga and a cavalcade would set out with the
bullion. Two, sometimes four, mounted police
would be chosen ; there would be a cashier and
his assistant, also mounted. The four or six men
would guard a pack-mule laden with the cash.
The money, all in copper, was worth about forty
pounds sterling ; but judging by the faces of the
party, the display of guns, revolvers, and other
weapons, one might think the guard was in charge
of the Royal jewels of Spain, or of some far richer
country. On arriving, the money would be put
in a strong-room, and the premises fortified against
attack. This was nothing more than the survival

PAY DAY 39
of custom, for there was nothing to fear from
brigands or from our own men.
Owing to the enormous number of copper coins
to be counted and tested — for there is a great deal
of bad money in Spain — ^it took from early morn
ing to long past noon to pay out those forty
pounds. We had three rooms in a row ; in the
centre one were the money and the clerks. The
doorway on one side showed a room full of men
waiting to be paid ; in the doorway on the other
side was a huge stone which might have told a
long story. It was shaped something like a cottage
loaf and stood more than a foot high. The top was
hollowed partly by nature, partly by the beating
it got. Two men stood on either side of this stone,
and on a labourer receiving a hat full of coppers
he would go straight to the stone, with all eyes
watching him to see he did not make any exchange
of the coins. At the stone he would start testing
his money, casting down every coin with such
force as to cause it to rebound into his hand, when
if good he would toss it into another hat held to
accommodate him. This beating of the stone was
incessant, for as Spanish money runs down to the
tenth of a penny, the number of coins tested ran
to many thousands. Some men were clever
palmists, and would bring along bad coins and
substitute them for good ones. We often found it
necessary to strip men to detect fraud. One man
had his arm smeared with wax into which the coins
would sink and stick quite easily. This paying

40 A WINTER IN THE HILLS
business was most fatiguing, and at the same time
genuinely amusing, though the humorous points
were sometimes too fine or too coarse to bear
telhng. When aU had been paid they would form
into groups and coflect what rations were due to
them from the kitchen. Numberless httle leather
bags, bottles, and baskets of esparto-grass, would
be drawn forth, and the various amounts of oil,
rice, fat, and other food-stuffs poured into them.
Then marching parties would be formed, for in
their superstitious fear they were afraid to go
alone with such a burden of riches about them.
Their politeness and good feeling was touching.
Never shy, the Spaniard is always equal to ex
pressing himself well ; and as we stood by the
verandah, or at the corner of the house whence ran
the mountain-path, man after man would come
forward and lifting his hat and voice at the same
time would call out, "Caballero!" and then turn
ing to his comrades, " This is the noble seiior.
This is the gentleman we have had pleasure in
working for. This is the real soul of Spain. This
is the time of the sun. These are the good days.
We have all been happy here. We have all been
well treated here. We are always glad to come
here ! We wish for a good harvest here ! Good
health here ! Good life here ! Is it not so, gentle
men ? " " Yes ! Yes ! it is so ! " they would
exclaim, breaking into further praise, salute, and
so away. As they journeyed down the first steep
mountain-path they would become more or less

EACH BEARS HIS BURDEN HOME 41
detached and burst into hearty song, and this for
those of us who remained was the happiest time of
all. It was so gladdening to reflect on all the
homes that would be cheered that night by the
contents of those little sacks and baskets, hats,
handkerchiefs, and pockets. Half a mile or so
below, where the men looked small as children,
were three or four divergent paths ; there they
would gather to make up their private differences,
shake hands, wish each other God-speed and de
part their several ways. Then the voices would
be heard in a different key, for the slopes and
ravines produced very hollow sounds, some of
which would come up long after the men were out
of sight. To tell the truth, I was always very sad
at the close of those pay-days ; there was nothing
hopeful in any of them for the men whose lives
depended on the little we had to offer. From
youths to old men they were all as slaves ; and
though skilful in their work, there was no chance
of bettering their lot. So in spite of an instructive
and in some ways a restful time, I was glad when
the winter was over to leave Pineda in the hills
and share the more genial life of the toilers in a
distant valley.

CHAPTER IV
MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER
I PASSED a summer on the Vega of Malaga.
Some friends would have kept me in their
large house, where were many servants, and ad
vantages would have attended me ; but as I de
sired to be alone or amongst the more primitive
Spaniards, I took up my quarters in a misrario —
penance-chamber — the last remaining portion of
an old Bernardine monastery standing among the
hills of Cabello. Two or three rooms had been
added to the place that it might accommodate a
rural guard. I arranged with an old woman to
keep house for me at nine pesetas fifty, a week —
about six-and-eightpence — and for this I was to
get bread and goat's milk in the early morning, a
breakfast of three plates at ten, and a dinner of
four plates at six. There were also to be wine and
coffee, and not less than a real was to be spent in
meat every day. A few bits of furniture and some
flesh-pots were hired, and we started to keep
house. Not over-impressed by Maria's personal
appearance and sense of order, I insisted on every
thing being kept faultlessly clean and straight,
and strictly forbade her to interfere with my
42

MEAT AND SOMETHING MORE 43
writing materials. So anxious was she, at first, to
please, that she regularly cleared off my blotting
paper if it showed the smallest spot, a most ex
asperating experience, as it was very dear and
difficult to obtain at that time, black sand being
the only blotter in that part of Spain. Maria was
a great gossip, and, unable to get any local news
from me, she would go every morning to a spring,
there to wash the pots and pans with wisps of
esparto-grass and sand, clean and prepare the
vegetables, and wait for the butcher. This worthy
would appear sitting on the end of a Jack donkey,
with his bare feet kicking at the animal between
the long bags of meat which hung from its sides.
When Maria had got all the news from him, and
he had extracted from her the eccentricities of the
foreign senor, she would dive into one of his meat
bags for handfuls of the little bits of lean goat or
veal. In Spain animals are not jointed, but as
many of the slaughterers as can manage it, get
round the carcase, and literally pick the flesh from
the bones, putting the lean in one heap and the fat
and gristle in another. As a matter of fact, there
is never any fat, but a certain amount of skinny
tissue, cartilage, and rough matter, which is the
portion of the poor. We were rich in those days,
and ate a real's worth of lean meat every day.
After Maria had mauled, puUed about, and care
fully examined scores of little pieces of meat, she
would decide on two or three, shove them in her
pocket, shoulder the pans and vegetables, tell the

44 MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER
butcher to " Go with God," and clamber up the
rocky path and into my room. There she would
regale me with the news of the day, and rolling
from side to side on the httle stool would exclaim,
" What on earth am I sitting on ? " and then,
clapping her hand down, " Lord, it's our meat ! "
I would shoo her out, and insist on its never being
put in her pocket again, but it made no difference.
Whatever vicissitudes the meat may have passed
through before it left the butcher, it got a rough
time afterwards, for Maria insisted on the carne
needing air. She would hang it on a nail in the
wall, and as it was hot weather and there were
any number of flies about, the stuff was filthy by
the time she took it down to dress it for the table.
Sometimes I would abuse her and ask why she had
been so long at the spring with the butcher, but
she always got out of it by saying, " I was telling
him about you " ; and when I inquired what she
could possibly say about me, she would laugh out
defiantly, " I was amusing him with your foolish
ness of yesterday." In self-defence I must explain
that everything I did, which was new to Maria,
was tontoria, or absurdity.
When the meat was taken down from the wall,
Maria would wash it in vinegar and salt, until
every bit became steel-blue with terror; then she
would start to beat, stretch, and roll each piece,
until it was almost as thin as a sausage-skin, and
became a fritter, a kind of brown-paper pancake,
impregnated with most mysterious and appetis-

MARIA SHINES AS A COOK 45
ing flavours and odours. It would be dipped
in oil, in capsicum juice, after that in a kind
of tomato sauce, once more in bruised almond
and garlic ; and lastly would be smeared with
the butter-like paste of boiled egg-plant. None
of these things, however, added to the sub
stance or size of the piece of meat. It could be put
in the mouth easily if first rolled up, though in
Spain one is supposed to eat a crumb at a time,
offering thanks to God between each morsel. In
fact, nothing brings out the reverential spirit or
such hardy boasting as the consumption of meat.
It is not at all uncommon to meet adults among
the peasants who have never tasted meat except
ing bacon, the chorizo, or a wild bird.
Another of Maria's favourite dishes was the
bolsillo — ^little purse. This she would make from
a mere film of meat filled with minced and very
delicately-flavoured vegetables mixed with yerba
buena — good herbs — selected by herself in the
Campo. This would be gathered into a kind of
Granny purse, deftly skewered and dropped into
boiling oil. Another of Maria's dishes, and the
most deceptive of all, was the berza — a mixture
of chopped meat and vegetables made into a rich
brown stew, and so cunningly manipulated that it
was almost impossible to tell one ingredient from
the other. Maria was very proud of this.
She was married; Don Luis, her husband, a tall,
gaunt old man, was nearly blind. He got his
living by plaiting esparto-grass and sack-making

46 MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER
on a large lagar, or farm, ten to twelve miles away.
Every few days he would come home for a rest,
and when he was expected I usuahy gave Maria
an extra penny or two for meat and an additional
bottle of wine. Don Luis, though very thin and
with painfuhy weak eyes, remained a fine-looking
and attractive man, but as a true Spaniard he
must needs be a great boaster. I often waited his
coming before commencing the evening meal ; but
out of an innate politeness and respect he never
would sit down with me, but would lean against
the door and descant on the inexhaustible riches
and luxury of life in Spain, turning every now and
then to inquire if I did not approve his remark.
When the time came for him to have his supper,
Maria would seat him on a stool, place another
with the dish in front of him ; and then, standing
behind, with one hand on his shoulder, would feed
him as if he were a child, all the time talking of
my generosity and asking if he tasted this and
that. She had a greedy love of meat, and when
the dish was a mixed one would say repeatedly,
" Meat, meat, meat, man ! " and poke bits of
vegetable into his mouth ; then she would pick
out bits of meat, put them into her own mouth,
and wink at me ! And they had been married
thirty years !
This stuffing so increased Don Luis' pride that
it constantly reminded him of the wealth and
prodigality of life in his own village. When he
could eat no more, or when Maria gave him

VILLAGE CHAMPIONS 47
breathing space between the courses, he would
throw his head from side to side in a searching
manner — for in the house he was almost blind —
and would inquire " Adonde, adonde, Don Car
los ? Where are you, Don Carlos " ; and then,
" This reminds me of my village. When I was a
young man every one was so fat that very few
could walk as we walk nowadays, and the mules
and donkeys were all hollow-backed from carrying
the heavy crops of grain. All the meat was very
tender, because, with plenty to eat, everything got
fat very young." As he spoke Maria, standing
arms akimbo, would put out her tongue — jealousy
and disbelief personified — as if to say, "You old
liar ! " Then, unable to bear the strain any longer,
she would yell at him, "Anda!" — get out — and
then, flinging herself beseechingly at me, would
say, " Listen, Don Carlos, it's not at all true,"
and raising her voice, she would cap all his boasting
by shouting, " In my village we have a fountain
with two spouts." This would fairly finish Don
Luis, for Maria's boast was unanswerable. As a
matter of fact, pure water and a continuous flow
through one mean spout is equal to great riches
in Spain. Another clincher of Maria's was that
she had seen as many as three bonfires in her
village on the eve of San Juan.
The simple truth amounted to this. Don Luis
and Maria were natives of two villages about six
miles apart. Once upon a time they travelled
half-way, met, and married ; and went off at a

48 MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER
tangent, where they had been ever since. They
had, at any rate, been in a constant state of war
regarding the merits and beauties of their re
spective pueblos ; neither had ever seen the
other's village, and though so near to both, some
peculiar pride, or disinclination to condescend to
so much as a visit, kept this old couple divided,
and jealous to the verge of misery. Don Luis'
boast was in some way justified, for his village,
Alhourin, is known as one of the most beautiful in
Spain. It is Moorish, as its name implies, and
remains one of the finest examples of Moorish
small domestic architecture. So much admired is
Alhourin, that Maria must have heard its praises
sung a thousand times, which must have been
little short of a bitter grief to her, for her own
pueblo of Cartama was very pretty. Sometimes
I would offer to take her to Alhourin, at which
she would grow churlish, make elaborate excuses,
and find good reasons why we should go to Car
tama instead.
About half a mile away were a few cottages,
the boys from which often came to stand in the
large doorway to watch the stranger eat meat.
These boys ranged from four or five to about ten,
and were practically naked. This did not matter
much, as it was decidedly hot weather. Curious,
hungry, and much afraid, they would grip each
other's hands tightly, and stand in a stiff row.
Maria was very jealous, and would throw water
or anything else at them, but once they were in

MARIA GOES INTO BUSINESS 49
my presence I encouraged them to stay. As the
meal proceeded in full view of these boys, one
would say boastfully, " I've had it once " ; then
another would perk up with " I've had it twice,"
or " three times " ; then a third miserable little
fellow would wipe his face in his only garment — his
shirt — and grizzle out, " I haven't had it at all ! "
They were comparing notes of the times I had
given them meat. My memory was fairly good,
and I knew pretty well which boys had been most
favoured : then I would beckon to one, and they
would all advance in line, afraid to come singly,
each holding his hand as far in front of the others
as he possibly could, all of them saying in chorus,
" I haven't had it at ah, sefior." Whoever got the
bit of meat — and it was rarely bigger than a
walnut — would hold it in his curled forefinger,
lick it hard and industriously, then, rolling it in
the skirt of his shirt, he would grab the wad in
his hand, and fly down the bare slopes, anxious to
get home with the prize before his comrades
should wheedle or force it from him. There was
something ludicrous, but always much more that
was pathetic, in the behaviour of these children.
Like most women Maria longed to be rich. Out
of her ten pesetas a week she contrived to save,
and bought a sitting hen and a dozen eggs. In
due time ten or eleven chickens appeared, and
Maria grew to be as independent as she was over
joyed. She neglected me in the most brutal
fashion, and made no better excuse than that

so MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER
she must attend to her children. The chickens
were certainly a fine lot ; and I grew to live
almost entirely on the radiant happiness that
overspread Maria's wrinkled old face. It was a
large face, round, much sun-scorched, and sur
mounted with a thin crop of straw-coloured hair.
Her eyes were deep-set and searching, and her
mouth was a large red rosette, for her lips turned
outwards very much. She was not the least
Spanish in appearance. Quite a new language
came to Maria with her tribe of chickens, and she
used to forget herSelf so far as to talk to me as if
I were one of them. Then when she saw me
laughing, and remembered her mistake, she would
spurn me with something like, " Bah ! you're
only a barren old rooster ! "
One morning at peep-of-day Maria burst into
my quarto, and with a horribly wailing moan
threw herself at the foot of my bed and collapsed.
I got up and laid her on the floor. As she breathed
heavily, and champed her mouth, I concluded
she was in a fit. I undid her dress at the throat,
and tried to bring her round, but got no more
result than a horrible fit of crying. She lay for an
hour or more in this state, and showed no signs
either of getting better, or of dying outright.
So I took a can, the domestic utensil of the country
which is used for coohng the floor in hot weather ;
and with this I watered her, first on the head and
chest, and then all over ! It made no difference.
She sighed, cried, and rbUed about as if in great

THE THIEF IN THE NIGHT 51
mental rather than physical agony ; and I became
aware that she knew of my presence, and how
I was behaving, but either could not or would
not stop her tears.
This mad grief went on for three solid days
and nights. What I got to eat doesn't matter.
All that I remember is that I was utterly worn out
from the starving and the unceasing yells and
complaints of Maria. Then, almost on a sudden,
she seemed to recover and regain her speech. The
very first words she uttered were, " Ah ! I never
had but one chance to make a fortune, and now
that is taken from me ! " I was still in the dark,
but the dawn soon appeared. The cause of all
this trouble was to be made plain. Maria had got
up as usual at peep-of-day, to find that a wolf,
or lynx, had come in the night and carried off the
hen and all her precious children. When this was
told to me, I could recall a fluttering, rubbing
noise during the night of the tragedy, but had
thought it came from mules, as they were in the
habit of rubbing themselves against the walls
outside. Poor Maria's face changed completely.
I never saw her smile with full-faced gladness
again. Instead of lifting things, she pushed them
about, she nursed a bitter grief, and would see
neither sweetness nor hope anywhere.
She had a son in South America. He had been
away for many years, and seldom or never wrote.
On my writing-table was the photo of a young girl,
also one of my mother — Maria always insisted that

52 MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER
the young girl was my no via — sweetheart. Coming
into my room one day, and standing over me as
I wrote, she said impatiently, " Mad, mad; reading,
reading, writing, writing ; always this, always the
other ! " I took no notice. Then, looking on the
two portraits, she inquired sadly, " Which do you
love most ; your mother or your sweetheart ? "
I knew what was passing through her mind, and
said cruelly, " Oh, my sweetheart, of course."
She turned away, and said with fury, " Worst
curse of God be on you — ^you men are all the
same ! "
There is a curious custom in Spain of stating
one's age in money ; thus, when I asked Maria
how old she might be, she replied, " Three duros
and a little more." A duro contains twenty reals,
and allowing a real for each year she was over
sixty. In spite of her good cooking I contracted a
fever. Every ailment is a fever in Spain.
As Maria professed to diagnose my case and
prescribe a cure, she started off to town, which
was some miles distant. The Spanish chemist
is a primitive individual. One wanting medicine
must take bottle or jar or box, and as Maria had
forgotten to take her vessel, and could not manage
to borrow or buy a bottle, my medicine was given
to her in a large basin. It was very hot weather,
with the road inches deep in dust. She managed
to bring home about two tablespoonfuls of muddy
liquid. She was quick to say, " This is food and

SUITED TO THE LIFE 53
drink for you " ; but I refused to take either until
she had strained and re-strained the stuff through
the fancy flounces of my pillow. After that I soon
got well. I suppose the risks of delay were too
great. For the sake of economy, suits of clothes are
roughly cut and just tacked together, with the
necessary linings, buttons, braidings, and thread
in a parcel all complete. Don Luis was head and
shoulders taller than I, but so lean as to call for
very narrow garments. Still saving out of my
six-and-eightpence a week, Maria was making Don
Luis a suit of clothes, and as she wanted to keej)
the fact secret from him she used me as a lay
figure. This was a comic business. I used almost
to lie down and roll, so ludicrous were her remarks
and general behaviour when fitting me, and cal
culating the allowance for the extra length and
the reduced width ; for instance, Luis's legs were
about half as thick as mine, so Maria would
drag the stuff round me and begin to sew it up,
and when I rebelled, chide me for my complaints,
telling me I ought to be proud to be decked in
such beautiful new garments ! When Don Luis
did come into possession of his clothes they cer
tainly fitted him well ; and Maria was so pleased
with her work that she kept him at home for an
extra day or two, for the proud pleasure of seeing
him strut about.
I had two knickerbocker suits of soft brown
flannel, and in an unguarded moment I told

54 MARIA THE MIRTH-MAKER
Maria she should have them the day I left. Here
was a dilemma ! She did not want me to go, and
if I stayed long the garments would be worn out !
So she schemed and appealed to my vanity. There
were inkstains and other spots which would not
come out in the wash ; some parts were getting
threadbare, and patches were unbecoming to a
caballero. Her appeals were so frequent that I
gave her one suit. She put it on at once and
appeared before me. Shades of Bonnie Scotland !
I had never seen anything like this ! Maria ever
more went about the house and the hills outside,
when looking for her sweet herbs, as my double !
Honestly, I grew almost to hate myself, for I was
always wondering if the difference in my height,
and one or two minor details, could make me
look any less absurd than Maria.

CHAPTER V
DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO
AFTER leaving Maria, I went to an estate far
L famed for the production of muscatels, and
there I lived with a capataz and his family of
three sons and a daughter — Trinidad — who, with
the gente, provided many satisfying hours. Of
Trinidad I shall tell you much a little later.
The details of the muscatel industry are ex
tremely interesting, for it is steeped in superstition
and quaint traditions. Saints and witches re
spectively provide the good and the bad qualities
of every harvest. Santa Anna paints the grapes
on the tenth of August, and the quality of her
brush is gauged by the colours present in the sky.
Woe betide the harvest if the weather be overcast
and Santa Anna cannot get enough blue, chestnut,
and deep red for her palette, for these are the
desired colours in muscatels.
" Bacchus loves the hills," muscatel is Queen of
the Valleys. She is the royal lady among fruits,
and runs no risk of being deposed from her court
at Malaga ; every nation supports her claims, with
out her no ceremony is complete. The superior
ss

S6 DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO
muscatel is "mellow as autumn and fragrant as
the spring " ; by a rare combination of climate,
soil, and technical skill Malaga alone can produce
this fruit to perfection. Stewards of many royal
households purchase direct from Spain, sending
their embossed and flowered silks and papers,
royal favours, national colours, arms, richly lined
cabinets, and all the rest of what is termed
" etiquetta " to parcel and adorn the precious
fruit. Fashions in packing come and go at the
whim of a princess or court lady, for whatever she
chooses to dislike or to suggest is mentioned in the
royal order, and affects the " get up " of the fruit
for each country.
Muscatels are made from a large greenish-gold
grape named " Gordo-blanco " — fat white — and
the more refined type of amber tone, " Muscat of
Malaga." It may be hard to realise that these
grapes yield the deep blue-black dried fruit ; but
it is true ; no black grapes are converted into
muscatels. In the process of drying the fruit
takes on a black, chestnut, or dark red colour,
according to the soil and season ; the degree of
ripeness when cut ; the amount of sugar and iron
it contains, and the weather during the drying
season. The best fruit is obtained from "vege-
tas," or well-drained terraces of sweet pulverous
earth. Low, rank, and undrained soils cannot
yield a high-class muscatel, and the discrimination
and skill used in the management often amounts
to genius.

WHEN RUIN COMES IN CLOUDS 57
To the eye a lagar, hacienda, or finca — names
applied to fruit farms and other rural estates —
presents nothing attractive, being dry red or grey
patches of low-lying land covered with sprawling
bushes of dust-laden leaves ; but when the grapes
begin to ripen, men and boys seeking work
appear in swarms, and one loses sight of nature
in the crowds of hungry and variegated human
beings. Dogs and goats are very fond of grapes, and are
only kept off them by rural guards ; but the
greatest enemy of all is the starling. This bird
flies over from Africa in such millions as literally
to darken the earth. Wherever they" camp for the
night they leave a desert ; every particle of fruit,
leaf, tender shoot, and piece of soft bark vanishes.
As the saying is, " Many crops spell various for
tunes ; one crop of starlings spells ruin." The
blowing of a southern wind and the sound of wings
in the air produces panic, men's faces blanch with
terror. In despair, bells are rung, guns fired,
torches lighted, and donkeys, mules, and horses
are galloped up and down and round about to
scare "Ios bichos" — the beasts — as they are
termed. Some calm souls rely on their appeals to
the Mother of God, or the promise of a priest,
who for a consideration has blessed and waved an
arm of protection over the estate ; others sit and
smoke, looking into their open hands and saying,
"If it is to be, it will be. If it is not to be, it
win not be."

58 DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO
Mucha sol — much sun,
Poca viento — little wind,
Nubes ninguna — clouds none,
is the desire of the muscatel grower.
To be able to judge when fruit is perfectly ripe
gives a man superior status ; and this, together
with a stentorian voice and a store of choice ex
pletives, forms the ideal capataz.
The first work is to prepare the tordos — walled
beds of tamped earth and gravel on which the
fruit is dried.
No living tree or anything odorous is allowed
near ; the tordos are always placed away from
water in positions securing the maximum of heat
and a minimum of shade and moist air. All the
material of the tordos is turned and tamped, turned
and tamped, for muscatels may not be made on
damp or unclean ground. One man is drafted off
to watch the sky, and arrange for the placing and
protection of the fruit according to his weather
wisdom. Near to Malaga, men seek work in thousands,
and whilst recognising their misfortunes it is im
possible to avoid laughing at their darns and
patches. Spain, so often described as a land of
rags, is more truly a land of patches. Any one
may wear a patch and suffer no social declension ;
all the poor are patched, in infinite shapes, sizes,
and colours. In the towns are patch-shops, con
taining piles of pieces of material of all colours ;
and the rule is to make a bargain as regards their

THE COUNSEL OF PERFECTION 59
size and strength. Hence, one sees such incon
gruities as a strip of Turkey red from a soldier's
trousers sewn on white drill or yellow cord. I was
at times so fascinated by the patchwork as to
feel I must engage men to enjoy the spectacle of
them ; once I bought the skirt of an old tramp
woman because it was made of hundreds of pieces
and was a work of ingenuity and art ; but, alas,
when I thought I had got it safely home, my
friends did not share my transports, and burnt
what they termed " the beastly old thing ! "
There is great art in knowing when the muscatel
is ripe. It should not be cut till all its growth has
ceased ; then the stem and seed is brown, the
skin fine, the sugar at its maximum, and there is
no free juice. To prevent waste and secure the
highest quality, the men are carefully selected,
some to cut the first-class fruit, others the second-
class, and others the third. Here the capataz
shines in trying to put all others of his class in the
shade. His stock call was, " Gentlemen, only the
ripe ones ! Only the ripe ones ! The ripe ones !
Nothing more ! Solely the ripe ones ! By God,
ripe ones ! " Variations of this theme employed
all his time, except when it was interlarded with
more vigorous language. A man's pride in being
placed among the firsts would be sweet to see,
till the capataz, detecting some fault in his work,
would send him to the second or third group. This
"insult" would usually stupefy and deprive the un
fortunate of speech. He would show his wretched-

6o DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO
ness by sulking and a silent gesture. Occasion
ally a man would resent it by an oratorical appeal
to his fellows.
The jokes and pokes incidental to cutting grapes
are endless. The fruit should never be touched ;
if a man cannot find stem enough to handle, one
hears his mates remarking ironically of him that
he has the masterful dedos de Dios— fingers of
God ! The appearance of green fruit in a man's
basket gives aU his mates the stomach-ache ; they
writhe and gesticulate in a fit of the gripes. Up
setting the basket is a bad omen, and leads to the
erection of a stake or pile of stones as a monument ;
all coming near which preach a sermon, offer a
prayer, or make other bantering outpouring for
the soul of the lost grapes and of him who had
destroyed them.
Carried to the tordos the fruit is laid best side
downwards, and not disturbed till the major part
is dry. The grapes being unequal in size, some
dry sooner than others. Drying takes from nine
to twenty-one days. Rare skill is shown in judging
when the fruit is dry ; it involves continual watch
ing to ensure lifting it at the right time. Dry fruit
is passive, but only an expert can detect this con
dition to a nicety, and even an hour too much or
too little spoils what might have been a fine sample.
Once dried and cooled in a large airy shed, the
quality is discernible, and the class of packing is
decided upon. The bunches which appear so
natural to the consumer are all made artificially by

HANDLING THE MUSCATEL 6i
hand ! The largest bunch of even-sized grapes
will yield no more than ten to fifteen granos — in
dividual fruit — all the others being uneven or in
some way defective and cut away. The packer
chooses a shapely racema — bunch — and treating it
as a frame, hangs and twists it, and contrives to
weave a handsome cluster of even-sized and even-
toned fruit ; all this is done without handling it
other than with a little stick and a pair of
scissors. To describe in further detail might prove tedious,
but there are scores of particulars of the highest
importance to be considered if the muscatel is to
be perfect. The Spanish method of eating this
fruit is unlike our own ; and at first appears dirty,
though it is not really so. A Spaniard breaks the
fruit at the stalk end, and with finger and thumb
presses steadily from the bottom, till the congealed
flesh exudes in a round ball, so that it can be taken
without the skin. To the connoisseur this is im
portant, as the skin spoils the flavour of the
fruit. The best class of cutters and packers receive but
six reals, or a fraction over a shilling, a day, with
two meals of soup, bread, oil, salad, and black
figs. The hours of labour are from daybreak till
dark, but long days of hot glaring sunshine and
concern for the harvest leave little room for com
plaining or dullness. All the day long there is
singing — free, wild, heart-born singing — and cuen-
tas — stories — bawled abroad, as men pass to and

62 DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO
fro or crouch over the tordos at the patient task
of laying or lifting grapes. In the evenings are
games, songs, and tales. The Spanish do not play
cards as much as we do, but where a few men are
gathered together a pack is generally to be seen.
Spanish cards are composed of cups, swords, clubs,
and gold pieces. It appears that our spade is a
contracted sword, and our club an abbreviated
bludgeon !
The sugar-cane furnishes the most convenient
form of mild gambling amongst poor youths and
boys. They contrive to split the cane by either
tossing it in the air and catching it on a knife, or
having it thrown violently towards them, when they
are supposed to catch it on the blade and divide
it from end to end. One wins what he succeeds
in splitting. We had plenty of this sport whenever
daylight afforded ; but more common were such
games as could be played by the aid of an oil lamp
or two. An amusing Andalusian game is the yard
race — sitting on the floor with legs and hands
in the air, one is supposed to lift oneself and bump
along for a yard, the first over the distance getting
the prize. Although so simple, and, as some may
think, so silly, it yields irresistibly comic situations,
and is so difficult of accomphshment that its
interest cannot wane. The only danger is that
one's trousers may give out before the yard has
been negotiated !
Quail-cahers are the most artistic of hars. They
have their home in Spain. The quail, or red-

A MASTER CRAFTSMAN 63
legged partridge, is to Spain what the domestic
pigeon is to England, and the most popular Spanish
field-sport is quail shooting or trapping by aid
of a decoy. The quail-caller is one who makes
a speciality of deco5dng game. He is usually a
tatterdemalion, hardy in frame and possessed of
rare lore, but always spoiled by his gift of lying,
for the truth is never enough for him. He can
imitate a cock bird entrapped or calling to its
mate, a hen bird scared from her nest or alarmed
for her young ; in fact, any and every bird-call
is known to him, so that at all seasons he can in
duce birds to come to him through fogs or mists,
and to follow him even for miles across country,
entering his house to be entrapped.
I have never seen a quail follow in such manner,
but so frequently is it stated to have been done
that I have little doubt it is true. To assist the
mimicry a cordoniz — quill — with a piece of leather
lace bound round it, is carried in the mouth ; some
men use a piece of bone like a buckle with cotton
round it. We had two or three quail-callers of
repute amongst our gente, but, to write the truth,
we were only interested in them when they lied.
For variety, and to satisfy their curiosity, I
induced some men to take a turn at boxing ; and
after gloves had been rudely fashioned we set to
work ; but plucky as they were they disliked
faUing on the hard floor, and the sleeping-sacks of
chaff were spread ; this meant rolling about and
innumerable falls, and produced great fun ; but

64 DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO
there was constant danger of touching a man's
honour, as any suspicion of defeat angered him
almost to madness. Several times men volunteered
to show me how they could fight with the knife,
and the coat off and swung like lightning round
the left arm to form a guard. This was always
meant to let me know that if I was superior to
them in one way they were my equals in
another. Occasionally the servants would come from the
great house, and then we had something like
musical evenings. The women would never
mingle amongst the men or sit down, but would
stand in the doorway of the packing-shed, or out
in the clear night, and, holding each other's hands,
would insistently encourage the men to tell tales
or to sing. Make no mistake, Spaniards have a
soul for music — a sense of feeling, power, and in
terpretation which is most rare elsewhere.
There is a trembling, grieving, wavering, awful
fear, the agony rather than the joy of life, so sad,
so unavailing ; such clear vision ; such refine
ment of emotion ; withal given in voices most full
of expression and delicacy of sound.
It takes time to discern the fidelity, which is
the beauty of Spanish song. The form is not
easily comprehended. Fleeting thoughts ; home
longings ; farewells ; visions ; memories ; love-
sighs ; labour ; fortune ; — these in couplet form
are so much in little as to escape the more dis
passionate northern races.

THE SOUL OF THE SOUTH 65
ANDALUSIAN COUPLETS
Dreaming of thee — dreaming of thee — dreaming of thee —
I fell asleep ;
And falling asleep I waked to love thee !
I'll ask my confessor to make me a penitent,
That I may kneel to you always.
If they gave me the millions at which I value your person.
You might say to the world, you have a rich sweetheart.
I don't want any singing — singing of " tranquillity " !
I want light songs of love that flow out of your soul !
I'll ask the Evangelist to alter his teaching, —
For I know that your window is the way to Heaven.
Oh, nightingale I Oh, nightingale ! Why sing you ? why
sing you ?
My heart is sad! my love is gone! Why sing you? why
sing you ?
If you should doubt my love, my love will fade ;
The lyre will lose its music and the world its flowers.
Ay de Mi ! Ay de Mi ! Words tell not my sorrow, —
I know not my complaint ! Ay de Mi ! Ay de Mi !
GITANESCOS
Gypsy couplets may be heard over all Spain,
but they are most common in Andalusia. The
following are some examples : —
As I sat under a tree without fruit I sighed, —
Sighed, as I thought — how poor is he who hath nothing
to give !
I should never have thought that your love was poison.
Served in a cup of gold.

66 DIVERSIONS AT CABELLO
Man is a serpent — a serpent with wings —
Which at times bear him up to the skies,
And at others bear him down to the ground.
The ass and the gypsy share a hard road.
Hard bed and hard fare.
Father Confessor, forgive their sins ?
I sing for I am happy — I am happy and must sing ;
For you have driven all care out of my heart.
Since I saw you in a lonely hour,
I have discovered a new world and am become its king.
I am under your window — and its bars are strong.
But our love will break all barriers down.
I believe the couplet and " pensimiento " reveal
the soul of Spain more truly than anything which
is done or said in the land. Romances and old-
fashioned stories are recited with as much freedom
as ever ; and to the call of " Come now ! " every
man would contribute his share.
As the maidens retired, some of the younger men
would steal after them to play the part of " iron
eaters." Lovers are so called because they talk
through the iron-barred or latticed windows.
One of our workmen died, and we took him in
his best clothes on a bier obtained from the church
porch, and buried him coffinless in the deep square
pit which formed the common grave of his village.
The cimenterio was at the crown of a steep hiU
above the church ; as we climbed a bell was
clanged and rattled at the wih of two boys. The

COOL CUSTOMERS 6^
bells are hung in window-like spaces of the towers,
and have heavy wooden frames, enabling those
who ring them to turn the bells over and over. A
priest led the little procession, and tiring of the
hill he sat down and puffed at a cigarette. Then
the bell stopped, and we saw the two boys locked
round its frame, their legs gripping the tongue,
and by means of a hand and spare foot pressing
the wall and turning themselves over and over !
The sight was sickening, but the boys betrayed
no fear till our calls reached them, and the priest
told them in forcible language to "go on with
the music."

CHAPTER VI
A LOVE STORY
ONE day a friend asked me to accompany him
to a christening, and in support of his re
quest he showed me this letter.
" Dear friend Joseph,
" Will you come to-night and be presented
to our first-born son ? If he cannot hold out his
hand, I will welcome you for him. Try and per
suade your English friend to come. Father Julius
will be here till nightfall, and I pray most fer
vently that his blessing will ever attend my boy.
With the priest out of the way we shall go in for
a high old time of ' Rats in the hole.'
" Yours always, " Luis."
We went to the presentation. It is not mis
called, for the baby is presented, and then you
present it with something. I gave a tiny pair of
shoes made of strips of coloured felt, ingeniously
plaited. There were a great many peasant women
present, and they criticised and admired the shoes
amazingly ; some went so far as to say before the
poor mother that the shoes were far too good for
her first-born son. Nearly an hour was spent in
trying to discover if any baby in all their ken had
6S

HIS HIGHNESS THE BABY 6g
ever possessed a pair of shoes bought out of a
shop. There was, at this christening, a kind of hired
clown, who played the violin whilst contorting
his body. He also made ingenious jokes, de
manding forfeits which went to the baby. He
succeeded in playing an air with his hands behind
him, another with one hand in his pocket, and one
with an arm buttoned inside his waistcoat. Many
of his antics were vulgar in the extreme, whilst
others were clever, and he made some smart
rhymes on the company. Every one sat round the
walls of the two or three little rooms ; and, from
the oldest to the youngest, all drank the health of
the baby in tiny glass cups of white spirit. The
father of the child was a modeller in clay, and with
a basin of water and clay he sketched group after
group of those present on the whitewashed wall.
For delicacies we ate pine-kernels, lupin-seed, and
muscatels. Many women present had babies, and
some gave their infants poppy-water to keep them
quiet. This was not done in any mean spirit, but
because the poor mothers had not sufficient natural
food for their offspring.
Spain was frightfully poor at this time, and in
the most generous season of the year the majority
of the peasants were in a state of hopeless want.
Wherever I went on the road I was appealed to by
children for a little for God's sake, as their fathers
were in Buenos Aires. This appeal was so frequent
and unvarying that I thought there must be some

70 A LOVE STORY
attractive catch in the statement that the father
was in Buenos Aires, but on asking, a man made
the reason clear. " Yes, it is quite true their
fathers are in Buenos Aires. A few years ago some
rascals came to this province and induced thou
sands of our best men to go to South America.
After a year or so they were to be joined by their
wives and families, but the scheme was a swindle,
and thousands of women and children are hus-
bandless and fatherless from this cause."
One night I came home to find the path to the
house illuminated. My host, the capataz, had
died. He had not been a strict churchman, and I
found the family holding an argument over the
wisdom or otherwise of calling in the priest.
Every available candle had been used to light up
the avenue between the road and the house, and
the wife and daughter had placed one or two near
the head of the dead man. In moving round to
condole with the members of the family I upset
one of these candles, and the faces of the women
became whiter than ever with holy terror. They
could not believe that their husband and father
could be in any way safe after this malventura.
I know it was remembered against me for months,
and the widow was especiahy bitter in accusing
me of adding to her grief.
An instructive chapter might be written on the
Lady in Spain, for she is the most distinctive and
unrelated woman in Europe. He would, indeed,
be a master who, knowing the subject, could make

CLIMATE AND CHARACTER 71
her appear as she is and has her being. The mis
tress of Cabello was a great lady, a direct de
scendant of Peter the Cruel and his consort, Maria
Padilla. She was about thirty years of age ;
rather small, delicately formed, and beautiful ;
but not particularly Spanish in appearance. She
had married at eighteen, and at the time I write
of had a precocious son of ten. Her husband was
ten years her senior, a fine man of German ex
traction ; where Germany mates with Spain one
sees the most absolute indifference to women and
her concerns. Don A. was fond of his wife and a
loyal husband, but he and she lived in different
worlds, as is so often the case in upper-class
Spain; the wife never going out, and the hus
band never at home. This does not mean that all
the men are rakes, but that their social habits
keep them up at all hours, a custom forced by a
climate which makes the night more congenial
than the day, and when a man is employed through
the day, he works so easily, and takes his siesta so
often, that he can pass most of his nights in the
club or calle and not show signs of wanting more
rest. Doiia Maria was a devout churchwoman, her
only diversion consisted in going to Mass two
or three times a week, gathering a sheaf of polite
scandal and bringing it home for the benefit of
her servants. This is the most surprising, as it is
one of the most pleasing facts of Spanish life.
The greatest lady regards her maid in the light

72 A LOVE STORY
of an intimate, and the maid, though reverencing
her mistress, speaks critically and frankly to her
on every subject. Doiia Maria kept six maids, and
for a wonder they were maids, for it is most un
usual for single women to act as servants. Mothers
and daughters go out together. If a girl has no
relations, she is adopted by an aunt or older
woman, who has absolute control of her. Only
in the rarest circumstances are young single
women found in a Spanish household. There are
two reasons for this. The girls are notoriously
weak and incapable of resisting the advances of
men ; and where they are servants their masters
invar ably take advantage of them. The excep
tional reputation of Don A. and his wife gave
them the privilege of keeping a number of young
servants. Only the cook was married, and she
was under thirty. A seventh, in the form of a
doncella, or lady's-maid, was a well-bred girl of
great wit and charm, and not a bit like a Spaniard ;
for she was educated, in no way superstitious,
petulant, or afraid of men — a fine girl and the life
and soul of the household. She was always in-
Venting games and pitting Spain against the rest
of the world, bracketing herself with me, for she
had been partly educated in France. Our coach
man weighed eighteen stone, and as Lola, the
familiar name for Dolores, and I together weighed
but a little more, it was her favourite challenge
that we should have a tug-of-war, and decide
which might be the weightiest part of the world !

WHERE SPAIN SHOWS WELL 73
Spain always won, for we found that the coach
man tied himself to a post in the stable, and, pull
as we would, we could never get him out. This
had been his challenge, and Lola and I made any
number of trials before discovering the trick. At
first all were shocked at the masculine play of
Dolores and her near contact with a man, but after
a time the feeling wore off and the whole house
hold gave way to this kind of diversion.
Dona Maria's interest in her maids, and their
affection for her, was quite beautiful. After
dinner it was her custom to pick a few sweets from
the table, small dried and crystallised fruits — for
there are no puddings of any kind — and rising
with the lightness and joy of a little girl, she would
call, " Ay, my girls ! Where are you ? " At this
there would be a rustling and chattering in the
long passage leading to the kitchen, and Dona
Maria would feed them out of her hand, as so many
twittering birds. This performance used to take
place almost daily, and one never thought it silly
or without value. The cook was almost too proud
to be fed, she got too much food as it was ; but
her mistress would never allow her to escape, and
in the end she took her share like the others.
What might be called the Mass meeting was
always entertaining. Twenty-four hours before
the time of starting every maid and man would
be saying excitedly, " Dona Maria's going to Mass
to-morrow ! " " Oh, my ! Dofia Maria's going to
Mass to-morrow ! " " Much favour of God on

74 A LOVE STORY
Dofia Maria ! " " Oh, a good time on the road for
Doiia Maria ! " and a hundred other exclamations
of hope and well-wishing. Then, when the morn
ing came, a great lumbering coach would be roUed
out, a pair of most beautiful mouse-coloured mules
attached, and the eighteen-stone coachman would
chmb aloft to the envy of all who stood round.
He usually got on his perch an hour before starting-
time, for he liked to be admired and envied. The
church was but three miles away, it might have
been three hundred judging by thp preparation
and the ceremony of saying good-bye. The house
overlooked the courtyard where the coachman
sat in waiting, and for an hour or more feminine
heads would be poked out of every window, all
shouting and calling at the same time, " Have
you got this i Have you got that for Dona
Maria ? " There were always a score or two of
men about at this early morning hour, and these,
too, caught the contagion and spoke of nothing
but Mass, coachman, the making of journeys, and
the monumental goodness of Doiia Maria. I con
fess to liking her as much as the others ; but I got
almost sick of the leverlasting repetition of her
name. When at last she appeared — garbed as a
simple little nun, with a long jet rosary on her
arm, a small black fan, and a little black bag-
purse, one had a feeling of disappointment ; but
she was the great lady after all, there could be no
mistake about that. Two or three of the maids
would always be in close attendance, eyeing her

ON GOING TO MASS 75
from top to toe for threads or anything that might
possibly be out of place. Doiia Maria and the
coachman would exchange compliments, as if they
had not seen each other for years, she inquiring
after his and his family's health and all his worldly
concerns, and he of hers in exactly the same terms
and manner. Then the excitement would begin
to brew ; the maids would say dejectedly to them
selves, and to each other, and up to the sky, " Oh,
Dona Maria's going away." " Oh, Doiia Maria's
going to see the padre." " Oh, how sad I am,
Dofia Maria's going away ! " There would be a
commingling of complaints, sad shakings of heads,
and no end of expressions of hope for a safe j ourney .
Of course, there could be no hurry ! Hurry is im
possible in Spain, sheer madness, a thing to dis
gust one, and put one to shame. So Maria would
let them have their wail out, then she would look
at the coach and the coachman, as if she had for
gotten his presence, and say, " Oh, Pedro, I think
I'll get you to take me to Mass this morning."
The coachman would bow and the maids would
grab and lift Doiia Maria into her seat. Some
would kiss her ; all would raise their hands in
, good-bye when the coach lumbered off. She would
be away about three hours ! How could that time
be endured ? There was no housekeeper, every
maid was a law unto herself, and as such incapable
of work whilst her mistress was away. They would
hang about in a group, chattering and twittering,
going the round of the gardens and climbing to

76 A LOVE STORY
view-points whence they might look along the
road. About half a mile on this road was a wooden
bridge, and on crossing it our coach might be
detected from its sound. False alarms there were
to no end, and the words " bridge " and " coach "
were constantly heard from the time Dona Maria
was due to return. When she did at last arrive,
the maids would rush down to the entrance gates,
stop the coach, pull their mistress out, and almost
stifle her with embraces and inquiries and con
gratulations. She always seemed tired of the ad
venture, apart from this home reception, and often
had actually to beat them off with her fan. Of
course, she lived on this unstinted devotion, and
when at last they got her home, they would sit
round and listen patiently to what she had to tell
in the way of news. This was generally very simple
and old-fashioned, for after Mass she always break
fasted with an old aunt, a rigid churchwoman, and
the subjects dealt with were chiefly of the Church
and its superstitions.
After the death of Trinidad's father I succeeded
to some of his duties, and lived partly in the great
house and partly in that of Trinny's mother.
Dolores and Trinny were fast friends, and as I
confess to a real fondness for Trinny, the three of
us passed a deal of time together. It is simply
impossible for a man and woman of any age to
walk or be alone together in Southern Spain. But
on the principle that there is safety in numbers.

THE HUMOROUS CHAMELEON 77
and that foreigners don't count, I often found
myself with Dolores and Trinidad, and we went so
far as to take long walks in the campo, gathering
the lovely caper flowers and their seed-pods —
alcaparas — for pickling. At other times we went
exploring the hills ; and it was very interesting to
observe how these Spanish women revealed their
sense of freedom when they found themselves
alone, and at the same time how they wore looks
of awful dread as they contemplated the return,
for they were afraid of being scandalised and losing
their reputation. But fear as they might, one
class of adventure never failed to draw them forth.
It was that of chameleon catching.
The chameleon is the dehght of the world once
you have fairly caught and tamed and known
him. In Europe chameleons are found only in the
extreme south ; and they vary a good deal in size
and form, the season of the year, the food and the
light influencing their colour and behaviour. In
their native state they are not remarkable for any
thing more than their extraordinary swiftness of
movement. They live in dry rocky country and
feed on flies and other small insects. They are
seldom out of their holes and crannies, excepting
during bright and hot weather ; for they are of a
hibernating and torpid character, and such good
Spaniards that they don't mind whether they get
a meal to-day or next year. They are becoming
scarce, for a country boy is sure of a peseta for a
live chameleon. To catch them, the best means is

78 A LOVE STORY
a flying net, held in such a way that it can be
thrown over the rock on which the chameleon is
lying. They seem to know that they are a prize,
and avoid small rocks or any place which may be
easily netted. During the heat of the day a chame
leon may be seen working round the edge of a
broad flat rock. He conceals part of his body and
tail by letting it hang over the edge, for he is
anxious to secure a fly for a meal. You may see
the fly and the chameleon ten feet apart and look
with all your eyes and then see nothing ; the
chameleon has gone and the fly has gone, and the
fly won't come back ; the chameleon may, but not
to-day ; he has dined, is satisfied, and has gone
home. Now it seems impossible that this could be, but
I am stating the literal truth when I write that I
have seen a chameleon a foot or more in length on
one side of a stone and a fly in the middle or on the
other side of it, and have seen them both vanish,
and been certain that the chameleon caught the
fly, though I never could see him make the capture
or the way of his going. The only clue to the fact
comes a moment before the rush is made — the tail
moves up into a convex curve, the spine becomes
rigid, and the head flattens on the stone.
As a pet and source of pure fun, the chameleon
can have few equals ; he has, moreover, the al
most priceless advantage over most members of a
household in that he calls for no special quarters
or attention. Give him a curtain-pole or a piece of

THE EYE OF THE WORLD 79
string hanging in an airy position that he may
survey the world from, and he'U look after himself
and bother no one. His eyeballs are practically
outside his head, and he has a marvellous power
of rolling them and looking all ways at once. Each
eye is about the size of a pea, a grey disk as of
indiarubber, and down a narrow hole one discerns
a black diamond glistening, quivering, almost
speaking, shooting out its emotions, and at the
same time keeping a wonderful gaze on everything
within range.
I kept a chameleon through a long summer, and
in common fairness can but thank him for hun
dreds of merry hours. I hung a string from the
ceiling, tied a few knots in it for perches, and told
my chameleon to make himself at home. He did
so. For the first three weeks the weather was not
to his liking, and he slept, at least I never saw him
move or show a sign of life. I would catch flies and
gum a wing to a piece of wood or paper in the hope
of tempting him to wake up. But he was quite
superior to my attention and would take only
such flies as he caught for himself. All the fun and
mystery of this creature and others of his race lies
in the roU and glance of the eyes. When on the
watch for a meal, the eyeballs sweep round like a
telescope searching the heavens, and the black
diamond of a pupil fixes the poor fly, until it loses
all power of fhght and is simply mopped up by the
great mouth. The wonderful colouring of the
chameleon is to be seen chiefly in literature, for

8o A LOVE STORY
they are not otherwise remarkable. I have
handled these animals in various situations and
seasons, and seen no more than a slight increase of
purple, violet, green and gold when the weather is
very hot and the skin is distended about the neck
and inside the legs and arms.
Trinny, who was all heart, often regaled me
with the love affairs of her family and friends, till
one day I was emboldened to ask her if she never
had a sweetheart of her own. With much spirit
and sign of emotion she indignantly asserted she
had been truly loved. But as she phrased it, " A
cruel world prevented the right things to happen."
She was short-waisted, full-bosomed, and a very
animate little figure, all movement from the waist
upwards. Her lips were a beautiful cherry-red,
her teeth perfect, and she had the most kindly
eyes. She moved up and down the room, her
hands on her breast, though haughty in bearing,
racked with longing to express and rid herself of
the pain still gnawing at her heart. " Come," I
pleaded, '' tell me all about it." Half tearful, half
fearful, she went to the door. Her mother sat
sewing in the great arched entrance to the patio."
Trinny felt the coast to be clear, and signed to me
to stand in the safe position of the doorway.
" You are true ? You would like to know ? " she
inquired, and seeing my nod, she began : " Eigh
teen I, and that was six years ago. Oh, by my
soul, the years have wings ! A brother of mine
was a lieutenant of Engineers, and quartered in the

THE TALE OF THE HEART 8i
north. On a special mission he came to his own
pueblo, and we knew not of this till one morning
he came very early and surprised my mother by
saluting her at her own door. ' Keep your hat on
and come in,' said my mother. And he entered a
soldier complete, erect, in beautiful dress, and all
much adorned. One kiss my mother gave him,
and to me he bowed and called me an improved
little girl, for he had been absent for three years.
Then he said, ' I have a friend, a brother officer,
with me. Permit me, mother mine, to ask a favour
for this distinguished seiior to enter your house.'
' Con muchas gusto,' replied my mother, and my
brother went to introduce his friend. Oh, soul of
me for a handsome man ! Six feet, young, strong,
full of grace, animation, and courage, eyes bril
liant, and a whole body full of love quite noble.
All this I saw in a moment. With a profound bow
he uncovered, but my mother said, ' Enter, enter,
and cover you, this is your house.' At this mo
ment I stood hiding my breasts with all my hands,
for I felt my heart escaping, and there in the dark
corner of the room I did not want to be noticed.
But my brother said, ' Friend Sebastiano, this is
my sister.' Then when I saw the handsome senor
look at me, I was covered with shame and said
but a small word to his salutation. But in this
moment he was more than the friend of my
brother, he was the world to me. My mother's
eyes were upon us, and I was timid, but wilful in a
way I had not felt before. After some talk my

82 A LOVE STORY
brother rose to salute my mother and retire. ' To
morrow, with your favour, I will with Don Sebas
tiano come again, for our work will be over, and
we shaU need to bid you adios.' My mother gave
a kiss to my brother and her hand to Don Sebas
tiano. But he gave me his eyes and a sign of the
hand. With this display of affection and a mih
tary salute he left us. Ay, Mother of God, that
was a painful day ! My mother was always cold
and not wanting a lover for me ; but early in the
morning I gathered jasmine for my hair, and put
a handkerchief of coloured flowers over my shoul
ders, and at the same moment the two soldiers
appeared at the portal. ' Mother of mine, sister
of mine, I hope you're well,' spoke my brother,
and Don Sebastiano the same. ' Enter, enter,
gentlemen, and keep covered,' called my mother.
All agitation I stood by the door, the courage of a
wild animal in all my frame. Not fearing my
mother I said to the noble one, ' When do you
march ? ' 'At this hour ! ' ' When do you come
again ? ' 'I am a soldier and cannot say.' ' But
I want you.' ' I also want.' ' What is possible ? '
' Esperanza — Bonita niiia — Esperanza is possible.'
They stayed but a moment Ibnger, and then
saluted. ' Adios ' and ' Adios ' we all said, and I
all sad made one plea for them to stay longer or
come once more. But Sebastiano said ' Impos
sible,' and with more adios and much talk from
the hand they marched from the room ! Oh, that
moment, and that day ! I could not speak nor

THE WAYS OF MAN AND MAID 83
work, nor find tears nor think of any remedy !
All my heart was in pain. I went to my quarto
and held my breast tightly, oh, very tightly ! but
my heart broke ! " Don Sebastiano never re
turned, and that was all her story.
The breasts of a Spanish woman are sacred, and
as her heart may be read through them it is unfair
and always rude to look beyond her face. A man's
eye resting on a flower or ornament on the throat
or breast may provoke the remark, " You are
searching ! " or " You have mean thoughts of
me ! " The breasts are held pressed or covered
with crossed hands as signs of modesty, shame,
truth, fear, and deep emotion.
" He gave me his eyes and a sign of the hand."
This reveals the whole man. The lover of the
South has no use for his tongue, the hand express
ing every thought and shade of emotion.
This story may appear too precipitate and
abrupt, but therein is it true to the way of love
in Spain. The time involved, less than an hour —
a halt ! front ! right about turn ! march ! sort
of visit, for the men were on military duty. The
swift feeling and sure speech are both in the
Andalusian way, and the collapse of Trinny, in
spite of her holding her breast very tightly — but
her heart broke — her own words — shows how
strong was the flood, and how soon and com
pletely life was changed for ever.
These incidents occurred fifteen years ago, and
now I come again to Cabello to find the children

84 A LOVE STORY
I knew grown to men and women, to learn that
my poor old Maria is in an asylum, and that Don
Luis, though very old, is in South America with
his son. And Trinny ? Well, she is married.
After some hunting I found her eldest brother
Paco, the best educated and therefore the ne'er-
do-well and the most likeable ; and after a day's
yarn we decided to call on another brother who
lived in the country on his own farm. This j ourney
meant a trudge from morn to night over very
rough and tiring land, but I walked every inch
with a feeling of profound joy, for I knew I should
be welcomed. Pepe, the brother whom we went
to see, was waiting in an olive grove — ^he had been
there the best part of two days — and when he
saw me afar off he ran like a mad thing and fell on
my neck, and hugged and kissed me, and cried
and sobbed, till I had to cry also, and in real
earnest, for I was overcome by this display of
human feeling. I had never seen its like before.
It was really splendid, and I could hardly believe
it genuine, for I had done nothing to aid him in
any way. We sat for hours talking, he holding my
hands and rubbing them as if he were a mother
and I a long-lost son. His wife, whom I had not
seen before, was very kind, and not in the least
jealous. I have indeed got a moral lift here, for
I discern absolute affection where there is no
possible chance of mercenary reward.
Trinny is married to a farmer, an exceedingly
kind and intelhgent man, but with a poor bit of

SO LIKE A JOYOUS DREAM 85
country, and so has to struggle for a livelihood.
Paco and I decided to call on Trinny together. On
the road we met an elder sister, who told me that
Trinny was happy though married, and with this
as a refreshing draught we went on. We walked
for hours over stony rises, down into dry gullies,
and along wearjdng naked ranges ; then past an
old monastery and through olive and carob and
raisin plantations, all the time looking at towering
mountains, with here and there green lawns —
oranges — plantations in the watered valleys.
Always, or nearly always, we were in sight of the
sea, and with Trinny's house of pure white, with
a few upright trees about it, showing on the side
of a mighty chocolate-red hill. Absolute stillness
everywhere. We alone made a sound. Oh, I for
got ; there were mobs of goats with clinking bells
at times, and also a mule or pig or donkey with
its bell. It was a long climb up the last hill, and
as we got near the house we feared we were making
the journey in vain, for the place was shut up.
But the folk were taking their siesta, and a big
rattle of the door from Paco woke them. Trinny
came forward, almost the same in face, though
grown stouter and more matronly in figure. She
is rather short and thick-set, but not in the least
ungainly. May I confess she was glad to see me ?
I do confess, because though I never loved her or
thought of her more than as a kind and agreeable
little friend, I was always convinced that a deep-
seated affection existed between us. She showed

86 A LOVE STORY
me all her house. It is in two parts, for her
husband's brother and his family are joint owners,
and when the old father died he divided the house
in such a way as to make it impossible for either
family to respect the other's preserves. Trinny's
account of where she could and could not legaUy
walk in her own house was most amusing. She
is very quick-witted, and enjoys the fun of the
situation eternally. Her husband was from home,
and her only boy away at school, so I missed
seeing them both. She has lost two children, has
been married ten years, and is forty-one. These
figures reversed give a better idea of her face,
which is a most unusual statement to make of
any Spanish woman. I put in most of the after
noon nursing and playing with twin babies — ^boy
and girl — her brother-in-law's children. We had
a meal, and drank white spirit which I had taken
care to bring with me. Altogether it was a clean
and blessed time. I had never kissed Trinny,
but when we came away, as she kissed Paco I
thought I might have one, so I kissed her on the
forehead. I felt her tremble terribly, and she
looked frightened when I let her go ; but that
was only Spain, the woman did not mind. And
now I have left her, a link, a strong hnk to a
bright and rare bit of life I lived here in the long
ago. I could not ignore her. I have no wish to
forget her. I never shall. She told me she was
very poor, but she had a kind man for mate and
a beautiful boy, and was content. That is much.

A RARE AND BLESSED TIME 87
As we went homewards the hills and the moun
tains blended into one tone of deep copper, and
the vales beneath them were streaked with lines
of grey mist. The crown of the world was a rim
of gold caused by the reflected light of the setting
sun on the mountain-tops. Trinny's house was
a httle white ghost peeping out of the shadow of
the great hill, and I ? Well, I felt like a parchment
ghost — cold and homeless in the evening air — out
before my time, and going nowhere ! I looked
back many times and thought as often. No
words will reveal what I thought — chiefly, I sup
pose, of the mystery of human life, of its comings
and goings, of the labour and the pain, the loving
and losing, and that unfailing force which impels
us to move on and lose sight and grasp of what we
have at one time or another deemed the best.

CHAPTER VII
GASTRONOMIA
AS this book deals largely with domestic life,
L it may be as well to devote a few words to
Spanish fare. The Spaniards talk much of food,
but eat little. They also say much in praise of
wine, and remain the most abstemious people in
the world. There is absolutely no drinking on the
part of the well-to-do beyond their actual needs.
At holiday times the very poor may, with the
chance given then, drink to excess, but sobriety is
virtually a religion with them. There is no vice
so condemned or regarded with more shame than
that of drinking. One sees the Moorish character
in this distaste for drink ; but if coffee were an
intoxicant Spain would be a nation of drunkards,
for cafe is consumed by all who can afford it. The
quality is on the whole excellent, but in many pro
vinces the beans are over-roasted and indigestion
is promoted. In the extreme south, one gets ex
cellent caf6 for a real, with a penny to the waiter.
Tea is gaining ground there ; many men take
it in the cafes, and it has become the recognised
thing at five o'clock in all houses with any pre
tensions to social form. Spain was one of the
88

GOOD TEA AN IMPOSSIBILITY 89
first European countries to acquire the tea-drinking
habit from the East, and in the seventeenth cen
tury she produced a rare lot of metal and other
ware in the form of tea-services. But the tea habit
did not last then, nor does it seem likely ever to be
more than a fashion in Spain ; the people cannot
command the hot water, nor the instinct necessary
to the making of a good pot of tea. There is
nothing but goat's milk, and neither with lemon-
juice nor beet-sugar can a decent cup of tea be
secured. The natural conditions are against pro
per tea-making, and the perpetuation of the habit
in Spain. Then tea is frightfully dear, the cheapest
runs from four to five shillings a pound ; and to
buy a sealed packet of the genuine article runs to
six or eight shillings a pound. Chocolate is taken
as a thick stodge only, and in very small cups.
The food and feeding habits of the Spaniards are
in nearly all ways distinct from those of the peoples
further north. Excepting hotels, cafes, and the
best private houses, there are neither tables nor
chairs, but stools for sitting on and holding the
dish. In town and country the common people
frequently stand or crouch about whilst taking
their meals. Then the food is served in one dish
for all. I am here dealing with simple homes ;
but in what in England would be known as middle-
class households, the food is often served in a
single dish or bowl, with forks or spoons laid
round. Knives are unnecessary, excepting to cut
the bread, for should there by any chance be meat.

90 GASTRONOMIA
it will be cut up or picked to pieces by whoever
serves the meal.
Most strangers imagine that Spain reeks of
garlic. As a matter of fact the people of large
parts of the country know nothing of this vege
table. And even where used, it is never to vulgar
ise the dish, or the consumer. For months I have
travelled without tasting or scenting garlic, and
I have been unable to obtain it when seeking it in
large towns. In Granada, for example, I stayed
in a thoroughly native fonda, where the cooking
was varied and excellent, and the company drawn
from several provinces of Spain. But no garlic was
employed, and on ray mentioning the fact at table,
some commercial travellers were able to confirm
my opinion that its virtues were far too little
known, since to those who know how it should be
prepared it is one of the most appetising things
in the cuisine.
Spain is covered with sweet herbs ; not only
thyme, sage, marjoram, rosemary, lavender, mints,
and fennel, but scores besides of dainty little
aromatic plants which yield a scent, flavour, or
appetising quality to the otherwise plain fare of
the land. Then it contains some native vegetables
of substance — cardoon, fennel, seakale, asparagus,
and dandelion, all of which are made the most of
in their respective seasons. Quite a long chapter
might be written on the dishes which are distinc
tive, as they are made from materials found in
combination in no other part of Europe.

IN PRAISE OF CHORIZO 91
Nearly every province is famed for some dish,
vegetable, fruit, or joint — the most notable in the
form of hams and sausages. The salami is made
in Spain, but is not the national sausage. That
honour belongs to the chorizo, a little capsicum-
red fellow, and usually with a mouldy exterior
which makes him unattractive and costly to the
uninitiated. But to those who know, age and
shabbiness are everything. You cannot have a
chorizo too old, if made of genuine materials.
These consist of macerated lean and very old ham,
and the fat of old ham which has been rubbed
down with capsicum powder until it is of the con
sistency of cheese. Into this is worked some garlic-
juice — not a flood, but a flavouring breath. Next,
some peppercorns and one or two fragments of
sweet herbs, drawn from the campo, are used.
These things are well mixed and stuffed into stout
skins, and if the best results are desired the chorizo
is put into a jar and covered with boiling lard well
impregnated with garlic, peppercorns, capsicum,
and green rosemary. Thus prepared the chorizo
is an immortal, and, like heavy wine, it improves
with age. The best I ever tasted was twenty-seven
years old. What one buys in an ordinary way are
no more than a few months old, but even these
youngsters are perfection to those who can accept
Spanish fare for all and sufficient. Of course, the
character of the meat and the method of prepara
tion have all to do with the quality of the chorizo,
but at its best it is the finest dainty of its kind to

92 GASTRONOMIA
be bought in Europe. You can use the chorizo
with everything, and nothing seems quite perfect
without it, especiaUy boiled joints, soups, and
made dishes. The chorizo, hke the garhc, is not to
be taken as a meal, but as the appetising item, to
make every dish a blessing. And that word bless
ing reminds me that in Spain one is always hungry,
and that it is the aroma and appetising proper
ties of the chorizo which place it so high in one's
estimation. The things absent from Spain make one wonder
what can be present to sustain its people. There
is no such thing as a joint. The biggest piece of
meat one is likely to see will be a baked kid, and
this but rarely. The meat of the largest animals
is cut and served in the tiniest pieces. Turkeys
and fowls also are cut to bits and fried and stewed,
and lost in the vegetable savoury which surrounds
them. And the pig, ubiquitous in Spain, is never
seen in the form of a boiled ham or a rasher of
bacon. It is true that Granada is celebrated for
its hams ; very old and cooked in white wine
which has been first delicately spiced. In fact,
whole hams are not so treated, but small pieces,
and these are obtainable only in the cook-shops
and fondas. Then Spain has no pie of any sort.
Nor is there a baked or boiled pudding, nor a cake,
nor a tart, nor anything in the form of stewed
fruit, a custard, or a substantial dish which we
know as a " sweet."
Cabbage, and several other more or less sub-

THE SUM OF THE LARDER 93
stantial vegetables, have no place in Spanish fare.
In a land without heavy fires, butter, or cow's milk
there can be neither big joints, good pastry, nor
light puddings, and the dearness of meat makes
its general consumption practically impossible.
The true meat of Spain is the olive and its oil, and
next the bacalao or cod-fish, of which the Spaniards
are large consumers. With a slow charcoal fire, a
little oil, cod, a handful of rice, another of chick
peas, a remnant of bacon-fat, a thread of saffron,
and a gota or tear-drop of garlic, a meal is secured
for a family. In Spain no one tires of repetition.
Here, if anywhere, Wordsworth's lines are true,
for at table their whole vocation is endless imita
tion. Soup, similar soup, and even more similar
soup is consumed the year round.
The stock ingredients of the Spanish kitchen
are, so far as the common people are concerned,
very inferior beef and mutton, goat's flesh, bacon-
fat, seasoned lard, sausages, cod-fish, eggs, oil,
and, on the coast, fresh fish. Vegetables — chick
peas, rice, potatoes, pumpkins, egg-plant, toma
toes, giant radishes, artichokes, cucumbers, car-
doons, onions, asparagus, ohves. The flavourings
— saffron, garlic, and capsicum, one or other of
these present in every dish. The capsicum is used
everywhere. In the north the fruits are like our
own, though of inferior quality, and in the south
and east, melons, oranges, grapes, pomegranates,
dates, olives, and prickly pears are largely con
sumed. The national drink is wine, and the pick-

94 GASTRONOMIA
me-up aguardiente — white spirit — a crude form of
absinthe but more wholesome, and doing no harm
to the Spaniards, as they drink with such modera
tion. Their sweets are coils of batter fried in oil,
rice boiled in goat's milk, meringues of sugar, and
dainty httle biscuits. Their quince and fig breads,
made from the pulp of these fruits and pressed hard
as cheese, are very nice, but too dear to fall to the
lot of the common people. Spanish bread is every
where good but dear, and soup is often obtainable
where bread is impossible. Globe artichokes, the
outer petals removed, and the cores steamed with
an onion and served with thin mayonnaise, are, so
far as I have tasted, at their best. Baked kid or
lamb in macerated kidney gravy, thick, and a rich
brown colour, makes a dish to dissipate all idea of
dying. The puzzle is to find the contents of this
gravy !
As cooks the Spanish poor have not received
their proper share of" praise. They have a real
faculty for cooking, knowing, as by instinct, what
things and proportions will blend and make an
appetising meal. From end to end of Spain I
have never detected anything I might regard as
stupid, wasteful, or badly done. I have growled
within — for it is useless to complain out loud — at
the hours on hours which I have waited, but I
never could discern that any more might have
been made of the material composing the dish.
This is a rare statement, and, excepting the French,
could be truly said of no other people in Europe.

SOME POINTED ALLUSIONS 95
The asparagus, natural to Spain, grows no
thicker than a rush in its wild state. It is so un
substantial as to be included in many proverbs and
couplets. One of the best known of these runs :
He who eats medlars, drinks beer, sucks asparagus, and kisses
an old woman —
Neither eats, drinks, sucks, nor kisses.
These are known to be unsubstantial things. The
thin green asparagus, fried in oil and then rolled
in egg-batter, makes a most tasty omelette, and is
a dish prized by every Spaniard. Once entering a
village with three or four stalks of asparagus, I
offered them to a tiny girl who was sitting on a
doorstep. She took them, and thanking me said,
with great deliberation, " This is well, seiior ! But
where is the egg ? "
When one goes into a Spanish comedor, the
waiter calls to the cook, " One breakfast for a real
gentleman." This means special cooking for each
individual, and nothing stale, dry, or cold. And
in parenthesis it is never hot — nor should it be.
I have never seen steam escaping from anything
in Spain — for which I'm inclined to say, thank
God ! For of all things raised and praised by man,
I dislike most his steam, especially when it hangs
about his food. England produces some excellent
fare, but it is too often a vulgar sight, and as
regularly dangerous in its consequences. Man
doesn't want hot food — ^scalding hot, steaming hot
food — in order to get the best of health and the
joy of life. In Spain the whole business of man is

96 GASTRONOMIA
to keep cool, where in England it is to keep hot
and blow it !
Nearly all Spaniards take deep draughts of
crystal -clear water before and with their food.
They also have a less rational habit of " cleaning
the mouth " with a cigarette between the courses.
This does not offend the women folk, for unless
they are travellers they rarely, if ever, sit down
with the men — a boy of ten having more right to
the table than a woman of any age. The Spaniards
eat and drink very slowly, as if bent on killing
rather than improving time, and it is an odd fact
that the peasants eat and drink with far more
grace than their richer relations. The fingers are
used alike by rich and poor in carrying food to the
mouth, and where knives are employed, as they
are in the north and west, they are poked into the
mouth as readily as any other table article. In the
highest society food is handled a great deal, and
it is a mark of attention to be fed from the fingers.
The domestic habits are primitive rather than
objectionable. The toothpicks of southern Spain
are often made from petroleum cases, because the
wood splits well ! Result, one finishes the meal
with a taste of lamp-oil in nose or mouth. I'm
an uncultivated dog because I don't like the
flavour or the " perfume." The Spaniards do !
In Spain it is vulgar to leave anything on one's
plate, and in taking fried eggs it is customary to
mop up the yolks with bread held in the fingers.
Using a knife and fork, a waiter looking at me

NOR TIME NOR ORDER 97
inquired cynically, " Are there no eggs in your
country ? " " Oh, yes." " I thought there were
not, by the mess you are making of that one."
The two-meal system would answer well enough
if the food were abundant and served punctually.
But these advantages are never found together ;
hours for breakfast and dinner cover the whole
rai^ge of the clock. And one is always deceived, for
Spanish cooks will promise anything. On asking
when you may have a meal they reply, " When
you wish." Should you say, " Well, I'll have my
breakfast at ten," you have done nothing more
than waste words and invite disappointment, nor
would the choice of another hour be any better.
I have often had my breakfast so late as to think
it an early dinner, and my dinner so far into the
night as to regard it as an early breakfast. On
this subject I confess to have lost patience. The
Spaniards cannot conceive any difference between
early and late, punctual or unpunctual meals.
In domestic, as in other affairs, there is no con
cern for time nor sense of order in work. The
church bells, the appearance of certain hawkers,
or more or less regular passers-by, provide a rude
clock. And in the matter of a meal, well, you will
be told when it is ready. The patience of the men
is extraordinary; in fact, no one could imagine such
patience in a hungry and independent soul, and
the Spaniard is both. Men wiU enter an eating-
house and say, " When can we have a meal ? " and
the housekeeper replies, " At this moment." The

98 GASTRONOMIA
men will sit, talk, and look round, roll and ex
change cigarettes, and start subject after subject,
putting in two or three solid hours, and never
show signs of impatience or utter a word to urge
the housekeeper or complain in any way. I have
seen this scores of times, ai}d have been the victim
as often myself. And by way of exception I have
heard but one man complain, and he a commercial
traveller who had to think about trains. On going
into a new house one may ask for mere form's
sake, " When are the meal times ? " to be met
with, "When you please." And supposing you
say, " Well, breakfast at ten, dinner at six," the
sefiora agrees with evident delight. But that is
nothing. Something has to be said, so why not
agree with the seiior ! At ten there will be no
breakfast, nor at eleven ; there may be at one,
but it is more hkely to be at two. And if you
complain you are silenced with the inquiry,
"What is the difference?" Argue, abuse, con
demn, threaten to leave, and do so, you will make
no change in that establishment or find it different
in the next. Our cooks are always in a fume ; a
Spanish cook is as imperturbable as an oyster,
and enters on the task of cooking for twenty with
no more concern than if there were but one.
The Spaniards are shockingly under-fed, and
where they get enough in quantity it is often of an
unsubstantial nature. It is to this shortness of
fare that one must look to their attitude towards
eating and drinking. NationaUy there is never

THE GAINS OF POVERTY 99
enough, and the greater number are perpetually
on short commons. And this is no new situation ;
it has existed for centuries, and there is no evidence
to encourage the hope that there can be any lasting
improvement. Out of all this long-lived poverty
has arisen a sort of philosophic restraint, and a
positive repugnance to complaining or even to
feeling such an absurd thing as hunger. To want
food is a sign of the lowest vulgarity ; to boast of
a superfluity where there is none, is a sign of good
breeding, and be sure the Spaniard would be well-
bred. Thus one sees only the poorest peasant and
the tramp plead for food, or express the fact that
he is hungry. In the crowd all are well off. It
would be lowering to hint at poverty, it would be a
mistake not to mention that the excess of good
fare makes life a burden ! As outsiders we discern
and laugh at this boast, but only for a time, for
we come to see that there is wisdom in boasting.
It is justified by the calm and the simplicity it
gives to life. " Busy " people almost hate the
Spaniard for his sublime indifference, whilst if he
had steam he would hate them for their mad con
cern. He will not have any concern. He says,
" Todas es mismo " — all is the same. He is nearer
to China in his thoughts and attitude towards life
than the Frenchman or Englishman who are at his
elbow.

CHAPTER VIII
AT SEVILLE FAIR
I ARRIVED at SeviUe on the Sunday termi
nating Semana Santa — Holy Week — and the
opening day of the Great Fair. Shall I say that
the town was merely crowded, when I mean that
it was jammed, packed, overwhelmed, with a
noisy and animated humanity ? The religious
functions had failed completely, owing to the ex
cessive rains and cold weather, scaring those in
authority and responsible for the precious robes
and vestments, and all the coloured and be
jewelled splendour which is usually carried through
the streets at this season ; but to-day it is fine
and warm, and a corrida — bull-fight — ^is about to
mark the passing of Semana Santa and the com
mencement of the Fair. Ere I reach the great
national playground, let me say that to live in
Seville in these Fair days costs money. A pro
clamation announces that begging is not per
mitted at this season, and the residents of Seville
are called upon to show all the hospitality within
their power to the visitor and stranger within
their gates ; but there is no word to the effect
that normal charges only are to be made at the

DRIVING A BARGAIN loi
rest-houses and hotels. I was asked about twelve
shillings and sixpence for a very third-rate room
and two meals a day, and given a hint that there
would be extras (not for me, but in the bill). I
dislike extras. We all do, for we never know
what they are, or if they are necessary and an
advantage. Catching the eye of an official at the
General Post Office, I asked him of a good casa
de huespedes — a native lodging-house. He said,
without a moment's hesitation, " Do you want
the best bed in Seville ? " " Yes, if it's not too
dear." Then he signed to me, and I followed him
across the beautiful old patio or hollow square
of the post office. He led to where a woman sat
at a door sewing, and to her explained my wants.
" A dollar and a half is the price of my bed," said
she, and the gaily garbed official immediately
said " cheap." I immediately said " dear."
Then the pair wanted to habla — talk. But it
was no use. Expressive glances convinced me
that I was regarded as a " lamb," so I returned
to the street ; here a boy literally took me by
the hand, and with a most paternal gesture led
me to a casa de huespedes in the Calle Venera.
I am glad I did not resist the boy. At normal
seasons this house takes in all who call with
money and who will pay at the rate of five pesetas,
or about three shillings and sixpence a day ; but
now it doubles its charges, and so I am, I trust,
safely lodged in Seville at seven shillings a day.
I made the bargain before seeing the room I

I02 AT SEVILLE FAIR
was to occupy, at which I laughed out loud, and
then fell to abusing myself for my credulity. I
have slept in some queer quarters, and often
where there were no walls to make quarters, but
in no case had I seen a bed in a place like this.
This Seville room is about ten by six feet. No
two walls are parallel ; the floor slopes as if it
had once been a roof ; the ceiling is nowhere six
feet high, and it roams about as if looking for the
easiest place to flop down and crush one. The
window is quite tiny, and looks out upon a blank
wall which is not four feet away. I was led to
expect a curious chamber by the way I got to it,
for the house, narrow in the extreme on the
ground floor, wound upwards in corkscrew fashion,
and I am certain that it rests here and there, sits
down, so to speak, on other houses, as a means of
supporting its six rickety stories. I was amused
and disgusted, and my disgust determined me to
make a row and, if possible, beat down the terms
of the posadera. She was a woman of a most
agreeable countenance and very kindly eyes,
which made it all the harder ; but I had no diffi
culty in abusing my room. She valued it at three
pesetas a day, and this was her answer to my
complaint : " We have to wash the room before
and after you. We have to sit up and open the
door to you when you come home late. We have
to give you time to speak and to think about
your comfort. We are taking the place of your
mother and aU your family and friends, and for

THE GATHERING OF THE TRIBES 103
this you — a gentleman — begrudge giving three
pesetas." Then, with all the pride and mock
heroics of her race : " This is no place for robbers "
(implying I should be safe) ; " this is no place for
the poor ; this is no place for other than caballero —
gentlemen — this is the house of perfection. What
more do you want for three little pesetas ? "
And then, oh, undying universal touch, she sighed,
" Ay, di-mi, I am a widow ! " and with her white
apron wiped away my last chance of arguing
further. Proud of her victory, the widow Perez was as
good as her boast, and cared for me extremely
well ; and if any one of small means and desirous
of living the simple Spanish life should go to
Seville, he or she may find it at La Sevillana,
Venera. In point of national display, solid business, and
whole-hearted enthusiasm, Seville Fair takes first
place in Europe. This is due to the fact that
Spain has by far the most primitive everyday
existence, and is the most anxious to preserve
her mediaeval forms of trading, ceremony, and
jubilation. She is not composed of one common
and familiar race, but of many, and all as strange
as so many groups of foreigners, and the fascina
tion of the unknown and the unlike leads to the
making of a festival as cosmopolitan and spirited
as any one could possibly desire. That nothing
shall be wanting to make this a truly national
gathering, the hat has been passed round from

I04 AT SEVILLE FAIR
province to province, and private donors, various
societies, and clubs have contributed. The mayor
and corporation of the city of Seville have voted
large sums for the improvement of the Fair
ground, for the illuminating and decorating of
streets, and have paid no less than fifteen hundred
pounds to railway companies for the carriage of
costumed bands from the various provinces and
centres of old-fashioned life. These regiones, as
they are called, are the great public attraction of
the Fair, since they exhibit and dehght the heart
of Spain, and young and old of every station and
estate are carried away by the singing of the
quaint old songs, couplets and historyettas, and
the dancing to different times and tunes.
Each group is made up of men and women, and
none are very young, for it takes time to com
prehend and interpret the subtleties of the
Spanish song and dance. But one thing is un
mistakable — all look and play their part. The
dresses are charming, but they never hide the
singer or the dancer. Spaniards have the most
expressive faces, and these rude country-folk —
who not a week ago were farmers and grain-
millers in Leon ; vine-dressers in La Mancha ;
muleteers and water-carriers in Arragon ; goat
herds in the Castilles ; fishers from the coast of
Catalonia or Valencia ; nomadic shepherds and
esparto gatherers from the southern mountains ;
raisin and orange growers from Malaga ; oliveros
from Granada ; or a troupe of merry men and

PROVINCIAL DANCES 105
women from the cork forests round Cadiz, plain,
working, peasant-folk as they all are — go through
their performances with such precision and finish
as to lead one to doubt whether they have ever
done aught but sing, dance, make jokes and
elaborate gestures, and generally entertain their
fellow-countrymen .
Prizes are given to the most picturesque and
accomplished among them, and here we may see
Spanish national dancing in all its forms. They
usually take the name of the province which
originated them ; thus there is the Arragonessa —
commonly named the Jota. It may not be de
scribed, but it is probably the most proud and
stately dance of aU. The Malaguena is the dance
of Malaga ; the Gaditana, that of Cadiz ; the
Manchego, that of La Mancha ; and the Sevillana,
that of Seville. The Bolero is said to have its
home in Leon, but it has long been danced in
many regions of Spain. The Murciana is the
dance of Murcia ; and the Valenciana and Cata-
lana proclaim their places of origin. The Fla-
menca is a wild, hot-blooded dance of the south,
in imitation of a dance of the Flemings, of which
word Flamenca is a corruption. El Vito and
the Jonda are types of Andaluz. The Tango is
the lowest form of dance, a kind of khan-khan,
or hop-and-kick affair without any special time
or pose. These pretty well exhaust what we may
hope to see in Spain to-day, and here at this Fair
none but the best performers are on view.

io6 AT SEVILLE FAIR
The Fair-ground is practically a mile square.
Within the city lies a large open space margined
on one side by extensive and beautiful park-like
public gardens ; next is the fashionable prome
nade and drive of La Delicias which follows the
storied stream of the Wad-el-ke-veer — written as
pronounced. These three spaces form the site of
the Fair, though the whole city is en fete, and all
the streets and roads bordering or leading to the
central point vie with each other in producing
the greatest show and the biggest crowd. Count
ing the houses of wood and canvas which have
been erected specially for this festival, as well as
those which are within the Fair zone, there must
be fully thirty miles of streets new and strange.
No other people go so far in the use of bunting,
greenery, and such material as will put a new face
on the fronts of their dear old houses. Every
thing that the house holds in the way of colour
and bravery is hung outside, and where paint,
whitewash, coloured papers, and flowers in raany
hands would be weak gauds, they become in
those of a Spaniard veritable triumphs in the
way of decoration and general effect. The powers
that be have laid out the site as if for a permanent
town, and all the streets and footpaths are pro
perly formed and laid with a warm, brownish
yellow sand which agrees excellently with the
buildings and the general display of colour.
Gardens have been made months in advance, and
to-day are beautiful with masses of roses, gera-

THE WORLD IN MINIATURE 107
niums, blue cornflowers, carnations, and mignon
ette, whilst climbing plants in pots and tubs ap
pear by the thousand. Whoever can afford it
has a caseta, or private house, at the Fair. These
are perfectly appointed little houses of reception
and merriment ; this year there must be miles of
them, each numbered and generally ordered as if
it were meant to last a century rather than a
week. One gets Spanish history at all points
here. Every type of house, ancient and modern,
is to be seen in miniature in these casetas. Vari
ous clubs and societies have quite palatial build
ings, with spacious ball-rooms, promenades, and
all the dainty luxurious appointments so beloved
by the Spaniard.
The people bent on doing business are a vast
army, and are from every part of the Peninsula.
Thousands of horses, mules, and donkeys are on
exhibition, and each in turn is haggled over in
such fashion as to cause a bargain in the making
to be one of the sights and best bits of fun of the
Fair. Spanish mules are famous the world over,
and here one sees the best of their kind.
The mule-dealers are wild, picturesque-looking
men, with any amount of character in their dress
and bearing. This they somehow convey to their
animals, for the mules are clipped, curled, and
even shaved in the most fanciful fashion, and
have ornaments of wool and plaited straw about
their heads and tails which make them look
quaint and old-fashioned in the extreme. There

io8 AT SEVILLE FAIR
are gypsies, of course, in thousands, hut they
have lost much of their old-time appearance and
fascination. European gypsies of to-day hve too
near to the great centres of civilisation. One does
not see the native wild expression any raore. It
has given place to a city-bred type of cunning
which is repeUent rather than attractive.
Spain never had raany toys of her own. Here the
toys must run to scores of tons. Over one hundred
and fifty toy-shops are arranged in a straight and
unbroken hne. Most of the things come from
Germany, France, and America, and few but are
common and without interest. Spain contributes
fans, beads in great variety, garter buckles — as
emblems of fidelity — models of all her utensils
and impleraents, castanets and strings of bells,
ribbons, sashes and handkerchiefs as souvenirs of
the Fair, as well as a great raany raodels of the
peasants and their costumes.
Of foodstuff there is no end — its odours fill the
air. There are such things as national odours,
the outcome of climate, food, cooking, and the
manner of eating and drinking. The odour of
the Spanish crowd is pronounced but agreeable,
and at the Fair the semi open-air kitchens create
the feeling of abundance and comfort. Every one
is eating something, for pine-kernels, various nuts
and sweetmeats, olives, figs, almonds, raisins, and
fresh fruit are desired by all. The local country
folk may be easily detected by their pillow-cases
of food. They stroll about with bag and baggage

OLD-FASHIONED GARB 109
all complete, having heavy coats, rugs or squares
of sackcloth, and a supply of food which enables
them to squat down, eat, sleep, and be at home
in any part of the Fair. Those who are sleeping
in the open air without tent or awning of any
kind raust run to thousands, and this great
national gathering is marred for want of sanitary
arrangements, for the authorities do not recognise
any form of indecency as a nuisance, and there is
no water as a means of cleansing and sweetening
the raany thousands who live entirely on the
Fair-ground. The costumes and accoutrements
are of unending interest, and carry one over cen
turies of eventful time. The men are ever more
old-fashioned than the women, and wear gar-
raents and head-gear which can be traced to other
and far-off lands. Thus there is the montero, or
helmet-shaped sheepskin hat, which is said to
have its origin in early Greece, and the curiously
smaU-topped and wide-brimmed sombrero, which
in sorae unknown way carae from ancient Thes
saly, and is now worn by the picador in his bouts
with the Andalusian bulls. The jackets, breeches,
and vestments are of silk, cotton, plush, velvet,
and cord, and the dominating colours violet,
yeUow, purple, green, and brown. The quaintness
of design and the amount of ingenuity and
patience displayed in these hand-made garments
is past description, but one never tires of looking
at and admiring the variety of the crowd. Blood
and gold the Spaniards call their flag, and the
colours are everywhere.

IIO AT SEVILLE FAIR
Scores of miles of ribbons, flags, and streamers
of these colours are flying in the air or decorating
the festive band. Under aU this show of bravery
old Spain is aroused to her utmost ; the national
spirit is awake, so that every one seems bent on
being generous and having a royal time, and there
is no class but comes and throws in its lot with
the rest. The highest of the aristocracy, the most
beautiful women and gallant and elegant men
join the crowd and take all things in common.
There is a set programrae of events for each day,
but, as usual, the raost delightful and lasting
features are the unrehearsed. Jugglers, tricksters,
singers, and story-tellers — this last an almost
unique survival in Spain — meet one at every
turn, and, strangest feature of all, there is neither
night nor day, but one unbroken round of ha,lf-
Oriental raerriraent. True, the serious side of
life is seen in the faces of raany of the stall
holders and continuously-worked servants and
directors of the show ; but even these must enjoy
the wild jousts now and then, and by turns the
Fair comes home to each and all as the time of a
life ; and further proof, if it were needed, that
Spain is what all her people truly believe her to
be, the richest and raost splendid country in the
world ! The bands are all doing their best to
drown the roaring and bell and clapper-clanging
of the showraen, and the crowds are shrieking
that they too raay be heard. The spaces round
the platforms assigned to the regiones are crowded

BY SONG AND DANCE MADE ONE iii
with shouting, applauding, and wildly-excited
humanity, for here rush out like fiery torrents
the passionate songs and aspirations of the lover
of the warm south. There is magic in the click
and squirl of castanets, and the rattle and stamp
of nimble feet. Here is gesture, which is under
stood of all the world. Here is a singer inter
preting the lover's exquisite pain ; and here a
soul sighing audibly in the tremulous voice of a
mandoline. So that one is fired and calmed and
made almost sorrowful by turns ; one grows
weary, longs to escape, and counts it a blessing
that all days are not for merry-making, and that
when aU is seen, said, and done, the supreme joy
of life is not found in crowds, but in quietness.

CHAPTER IX
IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
DURING a spell of intensely cold weather I
went in a train, that was as open and perish
ing as a cattle truck, from Alcazar San Juan to
Albacete — eighty miles of flat, open, and bare
highlands. Here and there a small town or village
community struggles with a bit of churlish soil
yielding wheat or wine, but in no place is there a
sign of sufficient creature coraforts.
Pastores — shepherds — and cabreros — goatherds
— roam the country, sta5dng out for weeks or
months with their flocks, folding thera at night and
during rough weather in corals — walled enclosures
— against wolves, lynxes, and other beasts of
prey. These, like the rest of the peons del campo — or
nomadic countrymen — are the most wildly pic
turesque class of people to be met with in Spain.
They are always a mixture of leather, cord, raw
hide, velvet, plush, cotton, and esparto grass, and
all so reduced to tatters, or raerged in each other
and the wearer, that any attempt at accurate de
scription must surely fail.
Cold and hunger suppress the vanities, and the
112

A WARM RECEPTION 113
main concern is to be protected against the long
season of hard weather.
Albacete is probably the raost colourless town
and province of Spain. The inhabitants are robust,
hardy, and remarkably quiet, employing few ges
tures and no loud speech. Their town is poor to
meanness. It has no fine or interesting building,
excepting the large church of San Juan, which,
almost square in form, has its roof supported by
two colurans only.
Albacete is faraous for its pocket and flaying
knives. These are crude but useful articles, raade
by raen and boys who sit in porches and raore open
places, working the steel and horn parts by hand,
and making up each weapon without any outside
assistance. The town promised to be lively, for
at the station I was met by about a dozen raen with
their breasts and loins girt about with blades.
They carry their wares in curiously-fashioned
wallets of lynx-skin spread over their foreparts.
Beside a shop door two domestic white rabbits
were suspended by a cord tied round their hind
legs. Every one who went by either tested their
weight or inquired the price, but no one seemed to
pity the poor httle creatures hanging head down
wards in the horribly cold weather.
During a walk I was accosted by a man who was
garbed solely in leather and rags, and had for his
business the hawking of two lynx skins, soft and
gory, which he said would make me a splendid
waistcoat. Whilst I was debating with the lynx-

114 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
hunter, a man came up who struck me as wonder
fully like myself. He had a wooden leg ; at sight
of this I laughed quietly, as I had often been told
that nothing less than a wooden leg would ever
keep me at home.
Many dug-out dwellings are to be seen here in
the form of tunnels and pigeon-hole excavations
in the sandstone, soft limestone, and masses of
clay, which form natural humraocks around the
town. Beaver-like raounds are to be seen by the
score projecting above the dug-outs. These are
the chimneys ; and as the cold was intense, boys
who had no fire at home were sitting on the mounds
with their legs down the chimneys.
Albacete is the centre of the saffron industry,
thousands of acres being devoted to the cultiva
tion of the crocus whose stamens provide the
saffron of commerce. The flowers appear in
autumn, and the plucked stamens are laid to dry
on smooth earth floors, and covered if necessary
against wind and rain. The saffron is a very old
industry of Spain. Apart frora flavouring and
colouring, saffron is grown largely for the pro
duction of laudanum. The growers sell the saffron
at from twenty to thirty English shillings per
pound. The crop equals about twenty pounds per
acre, but an enormous amount of |)atient labour
is involved, and the saffron must be classed
as a peasant industry. As the Spaniards say,
"only the patient and the poor" can be satisfied
with it.

A SHARP CONTRAST 115
The country eastward of Albacete is high, wind
swept, and very poor. Little patches of native
pine nestle in sorae of the ravines and on pro
tected hill-sides ; and there are a few strongly
built villages and the sky-kissing castle of Los
Llanos to engage one till the Segura is reached — a
blood-red river which boils, and turns, and tum
bles, through gorges and amid hills of leaden grey
and reddish brown. The descent is so rapid that
the climate changes within an hour from raw winter
to hot sumraer. I left Albacete wearing prac
ticaUy all I possessed — about three complete suits,
and on arriving at Hellin I was so faint with the
heat that I had to get assistance to unload my
burden of clothes.
The vega or vale of Murcia is renowned through
out Spain for its richness and beauty. Carefully
exarained it is wealthy by contrast, for the rich
land is but fifteen by nine railes, and the surround
ing area is raade up of absolutely bare and un
profitable hills and raountains. The vale is treated
as a market-garden — fruit trees, the mulberry for
silk, and flowers and vegetables crowding every
inch of space. The thrift and skill of these people
are equally splendid, and it is a hard fact that with
all their toil they never get far beyond the reach
of poverty. The vegetables grown are on the
whole old-fashioned and poor types, but their
violets and oranges are unsurpassed by those of
any province in Europe. Murcia violets are sent
to Madrid and to Paris ; but the choicest oranges

ii6 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
are consumed within the country — the "Imperial"
orange is in all respects a splendid fruit. Of
medium size only, but of surpassing flavour.
So valuable is land, and so enterprising are the
Murcians, that one cannot easily obtain a good
walk. The huerta or garden is all dykes, ditches,
heaps of manure and drift-sand, cesspits, pigs,
poultry, tiny adobe and thatched cots, trellises
and trees — a confused tangle, which makes a paseo
more fatiguing than refreshing. The whole area
is subject to flooding, and the making and main
tenance of roads presents a perpetual problem.
Raw silk is produced here in large quantities,
and the white mulberry is trained as a high stan
dard tree, so that fruits, vegetables, flower, and
farm crops may be grown beneath it.
This is the spring season, and the time for
cleaning all the wells and flood conduits of Murcia.
The silt and black mud fill the narrow streets to
the extent of tens of thousands of tons.
A town guard says gravely that the work is
done at this season because the people of the vega
want raanure ! And he vows that nothing else
would stiraulate to all this labour, raess and pollu
tion. Luckily, these wells provide only house
water, and I am glad to be shown that the water
used at table and for washing costs about a far
thing a gallon, and is brought to the house every
day in enormous jars, which are filled frora a
spring in the hills. The Spaniards are among the
few European peoples who know how to conserve

SANE AND SILLY AFFAIRS 117
and guard drinking water. They seek it direct
frora the rock, and avoid the possibility of con-
taraination till it is safe in the pitcher.
Around Murcia the andado or cradle is a wicker-
work bell-shaped contrivance, which, broadest at
its base, has sraall wooden rollers, so that whilst
the baby is always safe it is amused in pushing the
andado about and teaching itself to walk. Un
like the stiff and immovable stocks which fall to
the lot of the babies of northern Spain, the cradle
of the south is a very comfortable and pleasing
contrivance, well worth imitating by other coun
tries. As no coraraunity can be sensible in all
things, the Murcians sling up their draught animals
when fitting them with shoes. Outside the farriers'
shop are four heavy posts arranged like a byre.
Into this the horse, mule, or donkey is led, and
by means of belts, straps, and levers is hoisted
into the air. What follows is a sort of tragi
comedy, for the aniraals are always frantic, whilst
the people consider the raatter as a desperate and
necessary joke. Where an animal is known to be
trustworthy, two men may undertake to shoe it,
one holding the hoof whilst the other prepares it
and fixes the shoe.
The clay vessels for holding the water, wine, oil,
and drysaltery of this region are still made on Greek
and Roman raodels, and the forms are nearly all
perfect. There is also the Eastern type of pitcher,
with a pointed base, intended to rest in a frame
or cavity of the wall. The street carts, laden

ii8 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
with these picturesque ewers, pitchers, and jars,
and the quaint fittings of the houses, are primitive
and interesting in the extreme. In a small farm
house were three tenajas, or immense, alraost-
round jars, forming one side of the kitchen. They
were of splendid design, and raade of the finest
glazed terra-cotta ; they looked hard and durable
as copper or red marble.
The Segura river makes two leaps within the
heart of Murcia, and boils and thunders along with
an unceasing roar.
The women of Murcia are undeniably beautiful,
and the poorer and shopkeeping class furnish the
best average. In some regions the well-to-do are
the most beautiful ; in other parts it is the
peasants ; and again, it may be the factory girl,
the shop assistant or the eraployer's daughter. In
this part of Spain the shopkeeping class have the
largest share of physical beauty. Eyes, hair,
teeth, and skin are often perfectly enchanting.
Like most Spaniards, the Murcianas grow fat
early, from too much sitting about. But certain
charms seem to increase rather than diminish
with age. The eyes of the elderly women are
often more attractive than those of their daugh
ters or grandchildren ; this may be due to an
increase of knowledge and the absence of any
strain, for they do little or no reading, and tax
their sight only in so far as they engage in fine
sewing. A large proportion of the Murcian women have

A QUAINT CUSTOM 119
bright brown hair, and this obtains among all
classes, and it is as common in the country as the
town. This, with some other racial characteristics,
leads one to believe that the Murcians represent a
very old stock, for country types do not change
so rapidly as do those of towns.
There is a gypsy type of woman in the road
side cottages round Murcia, who wears a large
handkerchief over a shell-like coil of hair, tied
curiously at the nape of the neck. She takes no
end of pride in the coloured earthenware utensils
which adorn her best chamber, but her especial
vanity is a hand-worked towel, long and narrow
as a scarf, which hangs from a specially made sup
port high on the wall. An elegant hand-basin on
an upright hand- wrought iron stand rests beneath.
This is something like a discovery, for the care
these women take to keep the water pure, and the
towel spotless, leads one to infer that it is con
nected with sorae old superstition. No one is
expected to use, or even dares to think of using,
either water or towel, and there is a look of terror
on the faces of parents and children alike should
the stranger go near the toalla y agua.
The raost pronounced defect of the Spanish
woman is her harsh and uncultivated voice. Here
in Murcia the impression produced by many is
ruined the moment they speak. The voice is
naturally good, and pure Castilian with the idioms
of the provinces may be spoken with great charm ;
but whispering and quiet speech are bad form in

120 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
Spain. One must speak to a distance. This strains
and ruins many fine voices.
Then the singing of purely native song — and
there is no knowledge of any other — demands a
broken voice. Little girls and beautiful women
often have voices as deep and harsh as their
brothers. The rice powder, which hterally coats
the face of the Andalusian woman, and which she
uses " to keep off the sun," is seldom seen in
Murcia, though the chmate is equally hot. The
Spanish woman is a striking example of what may
be accomphshed in the way of securing regard
without the exercise of much brain. The way she
does her hair, uses her eyes, dresses, holds things,
walks, and reraains superbly ferainine, more than
compensates for her utter ignorance of what we
know as education, and provides her with a power
of commanding more than is enjoyed by the
majority of her northern sisters.
It is hard to discover the difference between
pride, fear, shyness, and sense of female honour
in southern Spain. Woraen are raost outspoken ;
no subject is barred, yet they will suddenly freeze
into silence as if something terrible had been pro
posed. I accidentally touched the elbow of a
young married woman. She had been unusually
frank and agreeable, but at this she turned away
and pouted like a sulky child. Then she went and
spoke in the ear of a much older woraan, and the
pair walked off in silence. This is due to what
we would hastily sum up as ignorance; but may be

DRESSING THE HAIR 121
more correctly explained as a subtle fear or mode
of caution imposed upon them by the men. And
the man is equally hard to estimate, for whilst he
is all eyes and jealousy, he affects contempt for
women and is never detected in a serious conversa
tion. It is true that the lover stands at the window
or under it, and gesticulates and articulates for
hours on hours — and as much through the day as
the night — but as he does this sort of thing for
years, he may get out all his laws and decrees
during the calf period.
In Murcia the women dress their hair even better
than do many in Andalusia, and nothing more
need be said. Here one sees marvellously perfect
and effective arrangements, and women who visit
this part of the country raust be exasperated to
know that the best professional peinadoras (hair
dressers) will attend daily for four pesetas, or
about three shillings a raonth. Those who cannot
afford a penny a day, dress each other's hair.
Many young girls look charming by having their
hair parted low on one side and waved over the
forehead — a soft billowy mass, dry, yet not a hair
out of place. Over the crowns of the head stretch
wide black silk bands, with large rosettes just above
or behind each ear. This does not age, but gives a
fine character to the young faces, and surpasses
anything of the kind I remember to have seen.
The short-frocked girls here wear full round
knickerbockers tied below the knee with coarse
white cords, from which depend large tassels.

122 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
The old-fashioned dress of the Murcia men is a
shawl and petticoat, so that at a httle distance
they are indistinguishable frora woraen. The
raanta, or shawl, is an exaggerated neck wrap, and
has become raore of a mode than a comforter. It
is twisted round and round the neck and head,
and under the arms, and brought over and across,
tucked and curled, in a quite extraordinary fash
ion ; yet the wearer may be barefoot or wearing
nothing raore comforting than grass slippers.
The raanta is often of barbaric colouring, and
reveals association with Africa and Asia. Iraitation
leopard and tiger skins are much worn, and there
are strips and stripes of felt, leather, and horse-cloth
sewn together, much as one sees in Morocco,
Egypt, and the Levant. Apart from the raanta,
and an occasional lynx-skin cap, the dress of the
men is singularly plain. Nearly all wear a long
black or cream linen blouse, with little or no fancy
stitching, the sarae cut as that of a Paris work
man. Pimento — the red capsicum — ^is grown here
in great quantities, and large mills are employed
the year round in grinding the dried fruit into
powder. This industry is so large that it imposes
the colour of the pimento red upon the whole popu
lation. Slippers, shoes, stockings, handkerchiefs
are dyed to the same shade ; and so much of it
is about that one does not find time to detect who
is wearing the artificially dyed garments and who
is a genuine worker at the mills. The market-folk
are surprisingly quiet, and do not use their eyes

A FAMILY COACH 123
or gesticulate in the ways common to most
Spaniards. In fact, the Murcians stand stock still
before their wares, or crawl round under immense
burdens of provender, and seem afraid to open
their mouths lest they should have to close them
on a bad bargain. One boy was so venturesome
as to bawl, "Garlic, a penny a bunch. Come now,
do you want more for less?" It was a fair argu
ment. Nearly all the houses have flat roofs, and the
fowls have these as their particular and private
doraain; in Castilian the word "particular" means
private. One sees birds perched on every bit of
battlement and roof ornament, and very quaint
they look, peering wisely down upon the human
crowd. The tartana, a long low van with a heavy,
richly glazed and bright brown tilt, is the fashion
able conveyance of this region. It is found a
little further south and runs north to Catalunia,
but is never seen far inland.
As a faraily coach it is raost accommodating,
but only those near the ends can see out of it or
get a breath of fresh air. Truly superb horses
draw these tartanas, and the animals have their
manes parted and trained to fall on both sides of
the neck, with very fine effect. Although so small,
this town sports upwards of three hundred
carriages — ^loaded from the shafts to the back
steps. Every afternoon the visitor can be inter
ested and amused in watching young love at play.

124 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
Youths of wealth must always show their courage,
" monte " — on horseback — and wherever a faraily
of pretty girls is huddled together in a tartana, a
dozen horseraen are to be seen elbowing and jost
ling eaqh other at the rear. Pushing and crowding
is a crirae in Spain — unless one is raounted, and
then it is the correct thing to ride roughshod over
everything and everybody. The ride over, and
the ladies safely lodged in the houses, there is a
great deal of racing up and down to attract faces
to the windows. In a raanner unknown in other
European lands, love is the prime concern amongst
Spaniards of all ages. They are curious and inter
ested in every one's love affairs. No men or women
are too old, nor are any too shy or busy to talk
about and observe the progress of the grande
passion. Hence one gets music as the confession
of love in all places and seasons ; and in Murcia it
is particularly well rendered.
At first this music is almost inaudible, and one
wonders when the real playing will begin. This
feeling is helped out by a peculiar hesitancy on the
part of the player — he cannot find the right note
or make up his mind how to interpret his feelings.
He twangs the strings two, three, or all together,
and then promptly stifles the sound by the pressure
of his hand. He looks up to the window, down the
street, over his shoulder, away at the sky, he hugs
and he half rejects the instrument, and shakes at
the shoulders. He speaks deep emotional words
down in his chest, and tang and tinkle escape the

CAFE LIFE 125
strings. Then his eyes close, he turns his head away
from the guitar, and utters a plaintive appeal :
" Come to me awake as I know you in dreams,
Bright as the summer cloud, pure as fountain water " ;
or : " Nor with thee, nor without thee
Have my troubles any remedy."
He is passionate, primitive, almost barbaric, but
so convincing that one is made to feel rapturous
by this lover who expresses himself to the music of
south-eastern Spain.
Cafe life in some provinces is full of interest ;
in Murcia it is extremely dull. The patrons are
content with cafe and small talk. Taking Spain
as a whole, the cafe has gone up in the world — it
has grown sober and silent ; not that Spaniards
ever drank to excess, but the cafe once provided
all their diversion. Now cheap theatres, cinemato
graph shows, and most of all, " circulos " or clubs,
have reduced the cafe to a rest-house, and no
raore. Dancing, singing, and music, once so attractive
and easily enjoyed, are now limited to a few dis
tinctly low places, where they are neither national,
nor natural, nor pretty, nor strange, nor have
they — as Ford remarked — " the merit of being
improper." At the best cafe in Murcia a man of about fifty
played the piano remarkably well. He had a
splendid head and fine eyes, and I thought him
too good for his task, he looked a man born to rule

126 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
and act in a great cause. One day I saw him led
to his place by a youth, and I was made aware
that my hero was totally blind.
In this little town there is a club which for
beauty, comfort, and completeness can have few
equals outside Spain. The Spaniards are past
masters in the art of making sensible and success
ful club quarters. They provide baths, gymna
siums, gaming rooms of all kinds, cafes, smoking-
and ball-rooms — every luxury and convenience of
a club, except a library, for they do not believe in
racking their brains. The principal club in Murcia
has over six hundred merabers, and the whole
secret of the success of this and all other Spanish
clubs is that the members fay monthly.
Usually a duro — three-and-ninepence — and cash
down for everything they consume or employ on
the club preraises. So one is able to say that the
Spaniards are very careful in their pleasures and
very careless in their business. The " Circulo
Mercantil " of Malaga is the finest club I have
seen, and I have examined many in detail in
several countries. The Malaga Circulo has over
two thousand merabers, and again its success is
due to monthly subscriptions. The British may
object that such clubs cannot be exclusive. No,
they are not so ; but it is well to observe that
there is raore general pohteness and kindly support
in the " Circulos " of Spain, than one is ever likely
to discover in the most exclusive of British clubs.
I make these remarks because it is evident that we

IN CLUB AND CASA 127
have a lot to learn in the way of providing a
rational resort for men who must seek relaxation,
and yet can make choice of nothing better than
the pubhc-house or theatre-bar. Excepting such
cities as Barcelona and Madrid, which are largely
supported by foreigners, Spain has no bars or
raere drink shops.
The Spaniard enjoys company. He does not
desire to drink unless he is thirsty. He does not
ask his neighbours to drink, though he never fails
to offer to the stranger whatsoever it is within
his power to give. With an assured income, be it
never so small, he joins a club, and but for the
danger of his being led into garabling, he gains all
he desires in the form of recreation at a very
cheap rate.
I never was one for gaiety, nor can I recall a
tirae or place which I thought dull. True, I knew
some things almost to surfeit, but could always
look or feel or hope away from what was about
me or insufficient. I write this because Murcia is
extremely quiet, and if I had not thought about it
carefully I might instead have written dull. The
average visitor would say, " there is nothing to
see and nowhere to go," facts I will not dispute ;
but you cannot have eighty thousand human souls
huddled within half a square mile with nothing
to see or feel or think about. So I am just brows
ing, and in a pleasant way content to be here ; and
not without some definable reasons.
I am lodged in a poor but very clean household.

128 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
where I can study human life in variety. I should
also say that I feel well off, which raany with raore
money cannot feel, because they are incapable of
surrounding themselves with proper company. I
pay about half a crown a day, and the capacity to
do this and not talk about where it is to come
from, makes rae a veritable monarch of wealth,
worthy the love and devotion of all about me. I
would not own money or anything which raight
make me envied of my fellows ; but I like to feel
I am envied for myself, and as I stand there is
nothing to be desired of rae. Still, here the bread
is very sweet, and the simple bed the lap of luxury.
I wish I could lay bare the secret of this ; but
I cannot — to get the best of poor quarters and the
absolute sympathy and attention of poor folk is
somewhere near what I feel to be the most restful
and joyous tirae in life ; that is, if we have
sickened of the fawnings and insincerities of the
crowd or felt the burden of toil-spent years. By
paying a little raore I could stay in a pretentious
fonda, where I should feel poor, out of place, and
a nuisance to every one whom I did not tip or
tumble to. So one secret of being well off depends
on living among those who are in some ways
poorer than ourselves.
This is a highly organised coraraunity, and like
Schopenhauer's family of porcupines, they are so
closely huddled together that they must needs
prick or irritate, turn, scratch, and bleed each
other. I saw four half-tragic rows in less than an

CRIME AND COMEDY 129
hour — at least, I feared tragedy would happen,
but all ended in words. Loud and furious speech
pays almost every debt in Spain.
I had no sooner written this than my diminutive
host carae and invited rae to witness the raurder
" funcion " round the corner.
Out of jealousy, a handsorae young married
woman had killed her raaid. I asked what the
punishment would be, and was told in all serious
ness that the maid had paid the debt. The mur
deress might be formally charged, but as she took
the only possible course open to her she was bound
to be acquitted. The comic opera element was
apparent in this case, for the murderess's husband
was the State Attorney for the province, and alone
held the power to issue a warrant for his wife's ,
arrest ; then he could not be suspended for any
dereliction of duty without making a formal com
plaint against himself to the authorities at Madrid,
and as he was not likely to do that, the public
tongue was the only matter that raoved in the
vale of Murcia.
My life in this old city centres round two women
— Manuela, my landlady, and Rosario, one of her
lodgers. Manuela was a well-formed and clever-
faced woraan of about forty, and had for a
raarido, or husband, one Don Anisetto, who had
the appearance of an ancient mouse, for he was
grey, wizened, and about three feet and three
stone. In all seriousness, he was a man small in
every way, and possessed of a cunning and rapacity

I30 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
he had not sufficient art to conceal. Manuela was
raore astute and had a better nature, though she,
too, was greedy and abnormally jealous even for
a Spaniard. Rosario was a girl entirely without means and
in such poor health that it was impossible for her
to earn a hving, A brother had paid a crown or
so a week to keep a roof over her head ; but lately
he had been drawn by the conscription, and
Rosario was in a hopeless state of want. Apart
frora a pale and sad face, she was a beautiful girl ;
about twenty-eight, of good height and fine figure ;
her eyes, teeth, and hair were each and all per
fect and bewitching. What is more, she had a rich,
sweet voice and a very attractive wit.
A still more charming woman in the house was
Teresa, a watchmaker's wife. She, too, was
twenty-eight, had four children, and was a per
fect example of Spanish beauty. Manuela watched
me like forty cats, and after a day or two carae
out with — " Cual si gusto raas ? " (Whom do you
like best ?) Partly to avoid strife, and partly from
instinctive choice, I named Rosario. " She is
yours. I give her to you," came from Manuela ;
but if not innocent I was indifferent to her offer.
Rosario' s fare consisted almost entirely of a potato
or two, sliced and partly boiled, partly fried in a
little water and oil. I saw this, and cudgelled my
brains and wondered how I might assist her with
out attracting the notice of Manuela. The hostess'
quarters were on the top floor, Rosario' s on the

THE WILES O' WOMAN 131
basement, mine were in the middle. I felt I could
spare a few pesetas, so putting the money in an
envelope I awaited Rosario on the stairs. When
I pressed the packet into her hand, and she felt
its contents, she almost fainted, and implored me
by old-fashioned speech, gestures, and sighs not
to rob her of her last shred of reputation.
She was in earnest, and her behaviour, as I
saw it, was truly splendid. She was stupid, and
yet she was right. She was a woraan of Spain,
and acting according to her lights. I withdrew
to ray room, feeling that I was a better-informed
man. I had seen a woman at her best, and my
heart went out to her. I had put my forefinger
on ray hps as a sign of silence, and she had under
stood. I went out and bought wine, biscuits, and
chocolate, and rapping, put thera at her door.
The next raorning I was surprised to be met
with a black scowl from Rosario when I saw her
with Manuela. "Oh, dear," thought I, "when shall
I know anything of the ways of women, and especi
ally of these of Spain ? " But later she gave me
the kindest of glances, and I saw that the scowl
was the protection against Manuela.
I provided afternoon tea for the household,
solely that Rosario might get a little raore food
and company. Manuela enjoyed the " feasts,"
as she termed them, but she openly hated the in
clusion of Rosario, and her jealousy was so pro
nounced that at times it made her quite ugly and
miserable. As I was determined not to notice

132 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
these heart-burnings a new scheme was put in
force. Don Anisetto suddenly departed. He had
" urgent business " in Cartagena, and after hug
ging me at the shoulders and shouting " Adios "
up and down the street, he shouldered a bag as
lean as himself and vanished.
Out of sight, out of mind ! Manuela waited not
an hour before raaking love to me. But I was a
brute, and dilated on the charms and good qualities
of Rosario. A bad cold laid me low ; but Manuela
proved a splendid nurse and had rae right in next
to no time. Teresa and Rosario were all sympathy,
but being on the young side they dared not break
through the law of custom, so I never saw them
in my roora, though they would twitter and call,
as they held hands, like two shy children, in the
doorway. Manuela, finding me too senseless to fall in love
with her, let Don Anisetto know that the finances
did not improve by their keeping two horaes, so
back he came. Where he had been to, goodness
only knows. Certainly not to Cartagena. I
imagine he had been living in a sewer, or up in the
belfry of the cathedral. He was all unshaven, un
kempt, and unfed. He was pitiable, yet I laughed
(I affected to do so with joy) at his return.
His little face had gone all to pieces during his
few days " urgent business." Poor little devil, I
do not think he had had one decent meal or wash
all the tirae. Whatever he took in the bag

"THE LITTLE PATH OF LOVE" 133
amounted to little, for it came back much as it
went forth. The blackraailing coup had failed
badly. I watched them with what I presume to
call splendid indifference, and made all I could
of Rosario, both before her face and behind her
back. In Castilian a green footpath is called a bereda.
A more refined name for a narrow path or country
track is senda, and one who takes it is named a
peaton. In Spanish poetry the senda is known
as " the little path of love." I did not take it,
but I will own I often thought of the saying, and
of the luna de miel or honeymoon of Spain, and
still more of the German Flugende Wochen (fl5ang
weeks), which seem the most expressive of all.
Rosario and I were peatons. I knew I should soon
be gone. There was a rare joy in associating with
this sweet, sad girl. All around were nothing but
dykes, gardens, and orange groves ; and Rosario
and I went out into the fresh air and gathered
oranges, and ate them too as often as we could
induce Manuela and Teresa to accorapany us, for
it was unthinkable for us to go alone, even had
she been twice the age of Manuela, and I but half
the size of Don Anisetto.
St. Patrick is the patron saint of Murcia, and as
the seventeenth of March meant holiday feasting
and jubilating in true Spanish fashion — which
means walking up and down and talking about
manana (to-morrow)— I had a good chance to pro
vide an additional feast for Rosario. Then we

134 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
went to the huerta, and though the day was
lovely, and the world a paradise, she fainted, the
walk and the joy of it were too much for her.
With wine and such light food as I could buy I
tried to sustain her, but I grew sad as I pondered
over her fate. She had " friends " in Alicante,
Valencia, or some town to the north. I was
journeying in that direction. Could I help her ?
Laughingly she would say " Yes," but I never
knew how far she trusted me. As a Spaniard I
should say not very far.
One day when we were trespassing on a little
estate, the rural guard, knowing I was a stranger,
demanded my papers. At the sight of the word
" Professor " he lifted his eyebrows, folded the
paper, and handing it back said with quiet de
cision, " I have a brother a Professor — of dress-
cutting ! "
Coming home, we fell in with a painter who had
been out sketching spring scenes, which he in
tended hawking and offering for a few pesetas
each in the clubs and cafes of the town. He was
a very interesting man, and amongst others made
the remark, " It's fortunate that the painter works
in heaven, for he hves in hell ! "
I recall a most charming boy in Murcia. His
parents lived on a floor below mine and were
tenants of Manuela. This boy of four or five was
beautifully formed, with a round but weU-drawn
face and great melting black eyes. Usually, when
I was at meals, he would climb — for he was not

A MURCIAN BOY 135
man enough to walk — up the steep stairs, and',
arriving at the landing where the kitchen and
dining crib were both open to him, for neither had
a door, he would fall, fairly puffed, over the top
step, and with his chin on the floor say, in the
most august and fascinating tone, as if he were
pla5dng bear or bogey-man, " Buen provecho,"
or. May it do you good !
I always thanked him and asked hira if he
would share the meal, when he would thank me
for my offer, and giving me a profound side bow,
he would pass into the kitchen to borrow or return
sorae utensU or scrap for his mother. Once I gave
him a biscuit, and he sat in a high chair and ate
it. As I left the room it was my turn to say " Buen
provecho." He immediately wriggled down out
of the chair and said with the calm and pose of a
courtier, "Igualmente" — The same to you — for I
had just dined. Nothing could disturb or show
this child in other than a splendid light.
He raust have had a fine raother, but I never
saw her. I often reraarked to Manuela that he was
a lovely boy, but she either showed signs of
jealousy or went off on another tack. Once she
paid him a scarcely accurate compliraent when she
said, " El es muy listo " — He is very sharp.
Manuela was in sorae ways a masterful woman,
and positively grieved because she could not bring
me to her feet. All she wished was that I should
stay in Murcia and keep the house going, for she
either affected to be, or was, very poor, and con-

136 IN COLD AND WARM QUARTERS
sidered that an eccentric " Ingles " with a weak
ness for throwing money about must be retained
at all hazards. She had travelled as far north as
Paris, and as far south as Algiers. She knew a
little French and some Arabic, had a real faculty
for speaking, was splendidly domesticated, yet she
could neither read nor write a single word in any
tongue. So anxious was she to impress rae that
her slightest favours took this form. " I am going
to oblige you." " I am obliging you." " I have
obliged you." She was a real, if not in all ways
attractive, character ; and so I dwell upon her —
though not in the same way that she dwelt on me !
One day she brought home a jug of olives of extra
poor quality, but amongst thera one crescent-
shaped little fellow, known through all the Medi
terranean countries as the cuerno cabra, or goat's-
horn. I reraarked to Manuela that this kind when well
grown and preserved was the most favoured and
the dearest of all olives. " Yes," she said ; " I
know, and that's why I bought them for you ! "
Once I inquired for my table-napkin, and
Manuela snapped, " Patience, it's washing day ! "
which shows that if poverty is no sin it is some
times an inconvenience.
When it was decided that I should leave Murcia,
great preparations were made to give me a proper
send-off. Manuela named all her favourite cakes
and other confections, and told rae of the shops
where they could be bought. Don Anisetto said

FUN AND FAREWELL 137
there must be a real burst or " buen cargo " of
wine, and he went out and brought back bottles
of three or four splendid brands. I found he
bought or borrowed bottles only, and filled them
from the remainder of my stock of common stuff
in the kitchen. I looked at him as much as to
say, " You're a daylight swindler," and he looked
rae full in the face as if to say, "Am I not a clever
dog ?" At least, I enjoyed some aspects of this
house and its inmates ; and among them Murcia
has a fixed place in my memory. We toasted and
wished each other good-bye, and "You will return,
Sir Carlos," were the last words I heard from
Rosario, as long after midnight she pressed my
hand and passed down the dark stairs.

CHAPTER X
THE SEAT OF MARS
NEARLY all the country between Murcia and
Cartagena is irretrievably sterile. I found
a lodging at the fonda " La Pina," in the Calle del
Aire — the first time I have observed Spaniards
honour a house with that eleraent. This is not
intended for a guide-book, but I may say, for the
benefit of those who do not know, that Cartagena
was founded by Hasdrubal — frora Carthage — as a
rival and raenace to Rome. It was used as a
striking base after the first Punic War in which
the Carthaginians in Sicily failed. From this
New Carthage, Hannibal set out to end the dis
pute over Saguntum ; thence taking the coastal
route he passed into Gaul and on to Italy, intend
ing to subdue Rome, In those times Cartagena
had a much larger bay or harbour than at present.
The old city stood on what was practically an
island ; but by reclamation and the silting-up of
rivers and lagoons the water area has been greatly
reduced. The surrounding hills which tower al
most to the height of mountains, and also the
site of Cartagena, are of very hard stone ; but so
much cutting and carving has been done that
138

CARTAGENA IN OUTLINE 139
little or nothing reraains of the actual surfaces of
early tiraes. On the other hand, the outljdng
hills and their forts and farolas — lighthouses — are
much as they were two thousand years ago.
Nothing is discernible or discoverable of the first
military builders. Digging jdelds nothing earlier
than Roraan. The situation is wonderfully
strong. The raountain-girt harbour is still re
nowned, and it must have been even more im
pressive and impregnable in the days when galleys
were the greatest ships of war. All the walls of
rock are of the mighty kind. They are inscrutable,
and in all seasons wear a hard steel-grey tone — the
face of relentless war.
The T-shaped harbour within the narrow strait
is not raore than a mile or so in length or breadth,
but is deep and rock-bound on every shore, and
its waters are as blue, soft, and odourless as a
fresh- water lake.
As a town, Cartagena shows few signs of age.
Comparatively soft stone has been used, and re
pairs are so frequent and haphazard, that, whilst
they produce colour and a cheap picturesqueness,
they do not carry one to a remote past. The
oldest and quaintest things in sight, apart from
the raany ruined towers and forts, are the wind
mills with six to eight triangular and boat-like
canvas sails. They are used for hoisting water,
and one may count sixteen or eighteen in a single
direction. At Cartagena one feels that the land has been

140 THE SEAT OF MARS
made solely for defence, and the sea for no more
than ships of war. There is no sand or strand, no
landing-places, httle bays, calm coves, or any sign
of a foothold for man. Any novehst wishing to
develop a rugged hero should come under the in
fluence of this grira spot.
One evening I stood at the very gate of this
storied harbour and fortress, and saw the night
fall upon land and sea.
Landwards were wonderful mounts of rock —
fortresses terrible in their strength. The lower
inland hills were in ruin, so many poundings and
shakings had they received from little man.
Over twenty ruined towers show from as many
mouldering heights, and the city is sufficiently far
off to look like the spirit of night rising out of the
grey womb of the world. The composition of this
picture is perfect ; it is an almost stupefying scene
yet comprehensible ; and somehow it makes for
peace of raind, and that sober gladness we know
when isolated and alone. Here are the highest
and most defiant of forts. Here the safest refuge
close to the open sea. Here the beetling rocks
defy further advance of the ocean, and though the
waters look angry, the shores are dumb. The city
sinks under a warra haze ; it is too tired to say
good night, and there is not a sound. The air
over the ocean breathes like a spirit, and far away
across its leaden surface lies a low line of sullen
blue — the night curtain running down on the
African shore. The clouds above are in motion,

LIFE AT THE FLOOD 141
and as they move and change the pictures alter
their size and character, seeming to cause the
whole world to move silently towards the west.
A row-boat or two shoots into the strait. These,
too, are silent, save for the thud of the oar in the
rowlock. Short Tyrian boats these, with a curved
blade prow-piece, no rudder, but a stern which
runs into the water like a tail. The dark cavernous
waters by the shore look alarming, but the tiny
craft approach them with no sign of fear.
It is a coast without a river ; hence there are
but few fish and these always close to shore, where
the waUs foster a little sustenance for the creatures
of the deep. As the night descends, the air over
the ocean becomes an audible voice — a kind of
rausic, a dirge or descanting of the story of past
years. I know for a moraent the peace that is felt
only at evening. Then a fisherman calls, and I
am brought back to myself ; before I decide what
to do a bugle speaks from a fortified height. This
teUs me to retire ; it is the end of day, and pro
claims a season of quiet and rest.
But did I retire ? No ! I had leaned against the
bulwark of rock which keeps the angriest wave
from the blue haven. I stretched out my hands
to make the grip more sure, for there is comfort
in grasping at masses of rock which jar and throb
under the pulse of the relentless sea. My hands
were rugged and work-worn, puUed out of shape
by years of toil in the service of a heedless and
hungry world. Tears hot as fire welled up, as I

142 THE SEAT OF MARS
thought of my slavery days and the precious time
I had lost.
I leaned further over the bulwark of stone,
stretching panther-like, as if expecting some quarry
to spring out of the darkening folds of the sea. I
looked to right and left — to be frowned upon by
piles of forbidding stone. I looked back now to the
ghostly city, with here and there an eye that shed
its fiery gleam across the waters. I turned again
to the sea — ^it was peopled, and the numbers grew !
Ships I saw — ships of many forms, all unlike those
of our tirae and clime.
How old are they ! Ships of early Greece.
Ships of Phoenicia — from Tyre and Sidon, from
classic Carthage ; and lo, there is one bearing
Hannibal, that warrior and war lord. He comes
hither to gird himself and march against Imperial
Rome. So proud, so strong, so gay was this
Carthaginian company, that I failed to notice the
varied train which peopled the seas behind them.
I was precipitated into the Roman wars, and
though all about me was strange I was a willing
soldier and unafraid. Half entranced, half asleep,
I lay over the rock.
Not a soul or a sound disturbed me. I breathed
out of ages on ages of time. I stayed till lost in the
fathoraless past, bound in the chains of time's story.
I was alone with the stars and the sea, the rocks
and the warriors of Carthage ; I was part of so
many adventures as to feel indescribably old and
averse to returning towards the few hghts, which

BARE EARTH AND FISHLESS SEA 143
shone out to remind me that Cartagena survived
the rack and offered rae a bed.
I took other walks, always to feel that the pre
sent did not count beyond providing time for con
templating the life of the past. The stern brutality
of the place exercises a positive fascination. The
rocks are like steel in their hardness and yield no
sand. Where they are laved by the sea they are
licked into such fine particles as allows one to say
they dissolve into water. Their smooth inacces
sible faces jut out into terrible depths. In the
absence of land vegetation, nothing is provided
for the growth of seaweed, and there is none.
The Spaniards, given to praise even the faults of
their land, say here, " Sea without fish. River
beds without water. Country without soil. Women
without shame."
Truly there is little for the virtues to thrive on.
The sea makes no perceptible ebb and flow ; and
although there is a wealth of glorious colouring
over all in sight, it is a churlish and brutalising
line of coast. No corsair but would find this a fit
home for his soul to live in ; but to the landsman
it offers nothing better than a spirit of opposition.
Everything stands off and refuses to be sub
dued and turned to use. One may wander for
miles, try for hours and yet be unable to get with
in a quarter or half a mile of the sea. The bare
smooth mountains and walls oppose one at every
turn. Truly, this is a fit place for war, since it
gives so little opportunity for the arts of peace.

144 THE SEAT OF MARS
I had expected Cartagena to prove more con
servative in its fishing craft than the ports further
south ; but it is not so. No fishing fleet exists,
but a few small row-boats hang about the harbour,
and hook and drag along the coast outside. In
the strait, and where there are raost fish, the wind
is treacherous, and few can handle a sail there with
safety. As one watches the few venturesome
craft, taking the strait in the evening light, turning
into the dark recesses, overawed by the cliffs
which hang like thunderclouds above them, one
thrills and fears the boatmen are passing to certain
death in the cruel depths of ocean.
Apart from the arsenal, naval docks, and a cer
tain amount of comraercial activity, modern
Cartagena counts for very little. One should go
to see and feel something of the spirit of the old
city, and I will confess that alone had interest
for me.
Taking a stroll I fell in with Manuela. She told
me a plausible story of an actor who owed her
money and was sailing for Oran in French Africa.
She had come to Cartagena to raake a claim
through the French Consul, and the ride from
Murcia had absorbed all the cash she possessed.
She must stay in Cartagena for a night at least.
How could she pay her way ? In her best black,
which included a soft silk shawl arranged like a
hood over her head and shoulders, Manuela was a
combination of mystery and attractiveness, and
her attitude towards me was full of confidence. To

A DELICATE PROPOSAL 145
my inquiry after the health of Don Anisetto she
remarked laconically, " The httle rat is just alive."
As "La Pina " was a comfortable house, and as
Manuela had no scruples, I offered her bed and
board whilst she should find it necessary to remain
in Cartagena. This she accepted con gusto, but
she raust return to Murcia on the morrow.
Callous and careful, I allowed nothing to trans
pire which might cause Manuela to feel I was
pleased to have her about me. Detecting my in
difference, she assured me of Rosario' s unfailing
charra and affection, and proposed that I should
take her as far as Barcelona, contending she would
minister to my wants, make travelling cheaper,
and prove the delight of my life. Said she, " Two
can live cheaper than one, and live better." It is
an old contention, but I had grounds for doubting
if it could be true.
I could with gladness take Rosario, but could I
leave her ? What did I want of her or she with
me ? I went so far as to teU Manuela that if
Rosario had friends whom she desired to reach I
would pay her travelling expenses. This pleased
Manuela mightily, and she proceeded to talk as if
wehad arranged to return to Murcia on themorrow.
But I had no such intention. The train left early,
some time before seven ; and I was determined she
should not miss it through any neglect of mine.
Mine was a comfortable room ; so was hers ;
what need of two " quartos," as we were friends
and alone ! Conscious that Don Anisetto was at

146 THE SEAT OF MARS
least big enough to cause trouble, I kept to my
own quarto, and had Manuela up and in the train
half an hour before starting-time. To pacify her —
I agreed it was possible for me to return to Murcia,
for I had to go within a few miles of it to join a
train for Elche. I bought her a ticket and proven
der, and got an unusual amount of affection in
return. The next day I received the following letter ;
which receives a literal translation :—
"Murcia, 28th March, 1909.
" Sir Carlos,
" When Doiia Manuela returned and told
me she had seen you I was rejoiced at the en
counter, but I fully expected you to come to me
on Sunday. I was overjoyed to know that the
door of my house stood open, and that a beautiful
repast had been prepared for you, and then I was
sad that you did not come. In your absence I
must write and present my appeal that you will
come to me, that I raay talk with you over a sub
ject of interest to us both.
" Understand you, I am, with due appreciation,
your friend. ., Rosario."
This letter, though fully addressed, had no
stamp, but a note that payment was to be made
on dehvery. It had no postmark, and had evi
dently been brought by Manuela and left for de
livery to me after she had gone.
Doubting the genuineness of this letter, I waited
a day or two and then sent a guarded reply, to
which came the following : —

FOR LOVE OR LUCRE? 147
",Murcia, 3rd April, 1909.
"Appreciable Sir Carlos,
" Seeing that I had written you and you
had not replied, I was very sad, believing that you
had no longer remembered me as I did you. But
I see that I was mistaken in the moment that
to-day I had the joy to receive your kind letter.
Agreeably with what you tell me, I will go to
Alicante or Valencia, wheresoever you may await
me, but you know my situation, since you were
here. I am a woman who wants to be good, and
because of being so I find myself thus, for were it
not for Doiia Manuela and her husband I should
have neither lodging nor food, and, thanks to
them, I have both.
" To-day I owe them fifty pesetas, and before I
leave I desire to pay them, because they are poor ;
and I, whilst accepting and thanking you for what
you offer me, should be obliged if you would send
me the said amount of fifty pesetas, that I may
be able to do my duty to this good family who
have been so generous towards me.
" I repeat that I should be much obliged to
you for it. That is all I can tell you to-day.
" The day I am at your side I will tell you more.
I hope you will answer me at once, because my,
situation is very sad, and you can brighten it.
" Without more to-day, receive you my most
sincere affection.
" I am, with all appreciation, " Rosario Sanchez."
So convinced was I that these letters were con
cocted by Don Anisetto and Manuela, and that
Rosario was in utter ignorance of them, that I
called in an assistant, and much as we debated

148 THE SEAT OF MARS
the subject, he was inclined to think the letters
genuine, and advised me to risk sending fifty
pesetas. I did not do so, and the sequel must be
told in a later chapter.
In this province unruly children are still told
that " Suleyman " is coraing, and though he
dwells just across the strait the custora dates
from the time of the Moors in Spain.
In Andalusia I have heard parents tell their
children that the Carthaginians are coming ; and,
" Oh, go and live with the Moors," is an every
day expression amongst the peasants, when in an
angry mood.
All along the south-east coast the cottages and
solitary houses have primitive wooden crosses fixed
at their gables, a survival of a custom amongst
the Moors when the Christians had regained the
mastery, and it was politic to hoist a sign of con
formity to the faith of Rome.
Cartagena is in sorae respects the most de
tached city of Spain, for it is so near to Algiers,
Oran, Melilla, Ceuta, and the native ports of
Morocco, and so many foreigners are engaged in
trade between these places, that the population
is much mixed and more of the nature of southern
France than Spain. Nearly all the utensils and
the trappings of draught animals are Moorish or
Eastern in design, and where horses or mules are
in pairs a pole projects above their heads and a
yoke is let down on the necks, so that they pull
from above instead of below.

SOME BUSINESS VIEWS 149
One Sunday, Cartagena was en fHe over the
Misa de Campaiia — the military ceremony at which
the young soldiers kiss the sword and flag of Spain.
It takes the forra of a parade and picturesque
disposition of the troops on a wide promenade
near the town. A cynic at my side remarked that
" Spain had seventy thousand raen with the
colours on paper — and newspaper at that ! There
are nearly thirteen thousand officers employed in
keeping the game up, the books straight, and
their pay sure ! Otherwise, why aU this flag-
flying, bright steel, and blare ? " I agree with
him. Spain wants a small army to keep the peace
at home, and no raore. A thousand officers and
twenty thousand men could do this work with
ease and find ample time for play. Still, I confess
that if I had to dwell in Cartagena I should want
to be a soldier, so many are the temptations to
climb to heights of vantage and growing cheeky
yell, " Come and turn me out ! "
Getting up for an early morning walk, I usu
aUy found the waiter sleeping in the passage or
with his chair-bed blocking the main doorway.
This was puzzling, for the house was half empty.
On putting a question to him he admitted he was
" the dog with the open eye," sleeping in the pas
sage to prevent the lodgers from bolting before
paying their biUs.
Returning by the route I had cornel journeyed to
within sight of the towers of Murcia, smelt again
the strong odours of its violets and orange flowers,

I50 THE SEAT OF MARS
and I have no doubt I thought of Rosario; but I
was bent on the sober task of examining some other
bits of peopled land, which took me to Molina and
Orihuela.

CHAPTER XI
LA BELLA SOMBRA
ORIHUELA, like the vale of Murcia, reveals
a wonderful example of intense culture. No
particle of earth is left unfilled, and every dyke,
ditch, and water-hole carries a reed or rush of use
in thatching the mean mud huts of the peasants.
The climate is so mild that the land is never idle,
and the people are everlastingly employed in
putting in seed or tending the crops above ground.
The holdings are all small — two or three acres —
and every one carries a certain amount of flax,
which, after being soaked in a water-hole, is
retted and sold to the spinners of Elche. As all
this region is irrigated, there are banks and ridges
unending, and the most permanent are clothed
with oranges, date palms, figs, and mulberries,
producing a most charming effect. Towards the
north are salt marshes and mirage-like lagoons,
enclosed by sandspits from the neighbouring sea.
Here the scenes are quite Oriental. Grey, sun-
parched hills, dry, quaking earth, steel-blue skies,
and clumps and belts of towering palms, so
numerous as to create forests.
Elche is the most tropical and Eastern in ap-
iSi

152 LA BELLA SOMBRA
pearance of all the districts of Spain. In fact, it
is hard to realize that it is a part of Europe. One
can walk abroad at all hours, and in every direc
tion, and believe oneself to be enjoying sorae fast
ness in Asia or North Africa. The little town is
griray, and in every way old ; but the grime is not
bad dirt, only dust confined by the belt of palms
which stretches out for two or three miles on all
sides. This is the only spot in Europe where the
date palm is grown for profit. All the palm area is
held by peasants, who work frora two to three acres
of irrigated land, growing artichokes, corn, maize,
potatoes, madder, lucerne, and other crops ; and,
excepting the date, their chief fruit is the pome
granate, which succeeds well within the shade of
the palms. The palms occupy the boundaries and
margins of paths only, but rise so high, and are
so evenly distributed, as to make an unbroken
forest of f)erpetual shade.
The roadway leading to each house is a rope-
walk, as flax yarn-spinning is the chief employ
ment and mainstay of those who farm the land.
Big families are desired and frequently seen, for
the more sons and daughters there are, the more
cord can be made, and this sells readily on the spot,
for the town of Elche lives by making canvas
slippers and boots of various kinds, all of which
have flax soles. The house paths are true Arcadian
ways. The high, sighing branches overhead, with
their enormous bunches of golden fruit, the rip
pling streams of irrigation water which awaken an

A SWEET SINGER 153
almost audible response in every expanding leaf
and flower ; the shouts, chants, and sighs of the
busy workers — for their tongues are never a
moment idle, make a picture rare indeed, and
nearer to idyllic happiness than can be described.
I hear one truly lovely voice here. It comes not
from a cord- but a slipper-maker, who sits in a
yard under my window and gives me my fill of
perfect soul-music. I feel inclined to interview the
raan, but think I may disturb and injure him if I
dared to tell him what I think of his voice. He
sings bits from the best operas, and apart from
the voice being well under control, it has a richness
and appealing quality which is most rare. This
master of song is fat, bullet-headed, round-faced,
and about twenty-four. Will any one take him
on ?
One feels that great singers should come out of
Elche, for the whole community is bent on trying
its voice ; and if we liken the towering stems of
the palms to the shafts in a great cathedral, it
seems natural that those whose lives are cast within
this spirit-haunted shade should always be trying
to make themselves heard, as they do.
One old cord-spinnner every time he ran towards
the wheel to attach the flax end, would look up and
in an almost praying voice send a strong, clear
appeal among the heads of the high palms, till one
could hear his song rising and falling as an echo,
floating away among the shadows and the curtain
of evening mist which was hanging low.

154 LA BELLA SOMBRA
The flax-spinner travels, in actual walking, from
twenty-four to forty miles a day, for his work de
mands very rapid movement. What is more, a
raan must hurry if he would earn fifteen pence
in a ten to twelve-hour day. Over five hundred
men are always making cord among the palras,
whilst their wives and daughters sit in the door
ways, raaking up some parts of the slippers. Then
there are at least a thousand little boys who have
for their task the turning of the huge box wheels,
which generate the spinning power. Some boys
have two wheels to look after — one at each end of
the walk, that the man may work from both ends
and waste no time in either direction. This forces
the boy to rush from one end of the walk to the
other — about fifty yards — with never a moment's
rest, except when the raan may stop to tie a new
coil of flax about his waist. It is most amusing to
watch the ingenuity of these boys as they con
trive to steal a moment from what comes near to
being an " eternal grind." Where two walks are
near together the boys pelt each other with clods
or bean pods — after eating the beans — and
then, spoiling for a fight, they give the wheels
an extra sharp turn or two, rush at and stroke
each other down, which is their best -known
raethod of doing damage to the person, for they
have no idea of using their fists. In all their heat
and haste they keep a reserve of calm, for the
fathers and big brothers are always shouting
"faster," "steady," or "stop," and if the boy is

NEAR TO HAPPINESS 155
caught away from his wheel, there is a real and a
most unequal Spanish fight.
When there is no chance of getting up a row, the
boys shin up the lowest palms and snatch hand
fuls of the small and husky fruit — for Elche dates
are not perfection — and in their haste drop many
feet to the ground, and maintain the motion of the
wheels by movements dnd a display of concern at
which one is bound to laugh.
This is all very simple, human, and yet most
rare — rare in the nature of a sylvan luxury for
those of us who have too long been busy and never
able to understand to what end we toiled. I had
grown to beheve that Arcadia must be as far off
as Utopia, and that I might never hope to see it
for a single hour ; but here in Elche, in the soft
air of a spring evening, one has nothing to fear, is
content, and feels sure one is near to the source of
happiness. Days went by, and I was charmed to stay. I
sat for hours on hours among the palms — ^in the
cool fresh mornings, in the hot noons, through the
delicious evening hours, and the pictures, sounds,
and inmost feelings were ever a source of blessing
to me, and so I am glad to write that Elche is a
restful and a generous spot, where man, by direct
hand labour, and free frora all the grirae and noise
of sickening whirring machinery and city misery,-
is doing enough to sustain himself, living rapidly
enough, and thinking well enough ; and I come
to discern and believe that the simple and quiet

156 LA BELLA SOMBRA
occupations of unarabitious men are the only ones
by which we may be soothed and satisfied.
All Elche bespeaks age. Its city fathers issue
" Edictos," " Manifestaciones," " Pronunciemien-
tos," and "Decretos"; then it has its "Repartado
de Aguas," a body of peasant farmers and market-
gardeners who meet in the porch of the town hall,
and, without ceremony, settle on the spot who
shall and who shall not have water for his
crops. At Elche I lived by the market, so near that
women took possession of the bit of pavement in
front of ray door, and piled huge baskets and nets
of oranges and onions till I could get no way with
out working my passage.
As a travel note, I say that one is never more
sure of clean and generous quarters than in a
market square. The people who keep such houses
must be of the large-hearted and accommodating
type, or they would fail utterly. What is more,
market houses do a roaring trade, and there is a
wealth of rough comfort and a degree of security
in them which one raay not hope to obtain in any
other house on the same terms. Then market
houses are almost certain to be " respectable," yet
full of the most typical and interesting class of
local countryman. So, as a poor traveller, go to
market houses. More often than not the host is
so busy as to be brusque or unconcerned, but
when once quarters are obtained, one may share
all the benefits of the house and have plenty. Here

LOVE, HATE, AND DEATH 157
in Elche the market was on the sunniest and most
picturesque of sites ; the fondista's face was
always shining, her eyes and hair were so dark
and glistening that I have no doubt I struck
the right shop. The food was not of the best ;
but it was clean and abundant, and as I could
draw wine as I would, I did not go short. I paid
three pesetas, or about two shillings, a day for
bed and board, and there was no sign of an
" extra." Elche holds all the material for a novel ; for it
is full of charm and human types.
From the tower of Santa Maria, one looks over
a square mile or so of mouse- grey sandstone
habitations. All the roofs are flat, the windows
are few and very small, and the majority so shaped
or guarded that it would be impossible to hope for
such success as came to Lochinvar. But there is
ample room for love and hate there, and the daily
round of common tasks would well bear telling.
Looking out from the church tower, and imagining
the field for a work of fiction, a funeral came
into view, with a pure white coffin, or rather a
coffin covered with white damask cloth with much
gold-gilt ornament, streamers and large bows of
white silk and a white plush pansy, fully ten
inches across, placed at its head. A bleached palm
branch was tied to one side of the coffin, and the
initials of the deceased were tacked at the head.
Sixteen priests chanted a brief service at the
church door, and about three hundred men and

158 LA BELLA SOMBRA
boys followed in a rambling train — the actual
mourners somewhere near the last. It was a boy
of fifteen who had died. The father was a sraall
shopkeeper ; but he did not appear to carry his
business instincts into the church, the priests were
quite numerous enough to do that for him.
After such a peaceful tirae it was only natural
that I should set out frora Elche with a boisterous
and raost huraorous drunkard. Drinking and
brawling is so rare in Spain that one almost wel
comes the acquaintance of a man in liquor, since
it shows another phase of its infinitely varied
people. The strong point of this drunkard was
his affection ; he insisted on bestowing it and
himself on rae.
I " stood " him a seat in the tartana I hired to
take rae to the station. In return for this he must
needs kiss rae; evidently he had made a gluttonous
meal of cod-fish, saffron, and raw onions ! He had
a goatskin bag of wine, and though we were not
supposed to touch the mouthpiece on drinking,
the liquor reeked of onion and the raore subtle
odours of its owner. The low-roofed third-class
carriage was already crowded ; but we were
bundled in and literally dumped on the floor,
where we sat, the drunkard with most of his
weight on me, his arms round my waist, his stubbly
cheek pressed against mine. The heat was tropi
cal ; raost of the passengers were woraen nursing
market-baskets, and as they regarded me as the
more drunken of the two, they would not hear

SOMETHING LIKE A FRIEND 159
of ray standing up, so I sat and rolled about and
fought for breath, and submitted to having wine
poured into my mouth, over my face, and every
part of me, till I was drenched and disgusting to
myself and to every one about me except my
affectionate friend, who, I will admit, paid rae
more compliments and promised me more pro
tection than all the rest of humanity put together.
I wanted to see and say what the land is like be
tween Elche and Alicante ; but, in plain English,
I don't know anything about it. I made it my
business so to prime my friend from his own wine
skin, and my white spirit flask, as to have him in
capable of pursuing me beyond the train. " Mixed
drinks" did their work. When last I saw him he
was in a noisy sleep on the floor of the railway
carriage.

CHAPTER XII
A FUNERAL AND SOME VITAL CONCERNS
MAY we be led to understand and, as far as
possible, enter into the lives of others !
One evening I took a walk, bent on no more
than refreshment, and perchance the sight of
some old ruin, or an extra fine view of the Bay of
Alicante. I sighted a large cross on a high fluted
column, and guessed it to be the local Calvario, for
many Spanish cities have their cross-crowned
Calvary Hill.
In pursuing the winding road up the sandstone
slope, I came to the cemetery, and as the gate was
open, and I had not been inside a Spanish bur5H.ng-
ground for many years, I turned into this one. I
do not like cemeteries, though one of my favourite
haunts is an old churchyard. Any one with a turn
for quietness will understand and appreciate the
difference. But of all European resting-places,
these of Spain strike one as the raost repellent.
According to the size and importance of the
community, the forms of interment vary from two
to six or seven. Thus in villages are large pits,
each receiving many bodies, whilst a few families
may have their members buried separately, or in
1 60

GOD'S ACRE A RUIN i6i
household vaults. These are ranged like bakers'
ovens, round deep walls of brick or stone, usually
so flirasy and so frequently disturbed as to present
a perpetual scene of ruin, and the sights and
odours are always repulsive.
In raore iraportant burial-places, there are
underground vaults, with enclosed spaces above
forming httle porches, chapels, or greenhouses full
of flowers and symbolical climbing plants. In the
dry chambers are photos or paintings of the
deceased, wreaths, testimonials, letters of condo
lence, violet and purple banners and bows, charms,
figures of saints and virgins, jars, urns, rosaries,
palm branches, and other symbols of holy faith
and human affection.
More important tombs are surmounted by
massive piles of stone ; and many by chapels
of considerable size. But with few exceptions the
construction is bad ; and the best of materials
soon slip out of forra in this intensely dry and
devastating climate, so that the general effect is
one of ruin ; and one bites one's lips at discerning
the futility of building to defy the ravages of
time. I went through section after section ; for if the
Spaniards are in life equal and famihar, it is
noticeable that in death they like to assert their
social distinction. At last on the highest ground,
and under a high wall, I took a commanding view of
half the old city, much of the bay, the distant and
low island of Tobago, a raagnificent range of bare

i62 SOME VITAL CONCERNS
and purple raountains, and the churlish strip of
lowland bordering the leaden sea. Here I stood
to gaze and ruminate, and then to ask why I had
of all places chosen such a grim spot on which to
end the day ?
Graves by the score were lying open ; and I
was actually standing on a huge mound of sandy
earth which had been raised by the sinking of a
new pit, intended for those whose relations are
too poor to provide coffins or separate interment.
From appearances about six bodies were already
laid side by side, and not raore than a foot
of soil covered them. Fully twenty more would
occupy the same level ; then a new layer, and
still others, to within three feet of the surface.
The single graves were never more than four feet in
depth. They were not of coffin form, but long and
irregular holes. This apparently bad workman
ship is excusable, for the soil is loose and entirely
dry, so that it runs on being touched ; and as this
had been disturbed over and over again, and
cofi&n-wood showed all through it, it was impos
sible to sink shapely graves.
Three or four quiet, elderly men were stiU at
work. One had for his task the coUecting and
carrying to a heap of the heaviest wood and bones
thrown out. Near this charnel-heap were several
new coffins which had held bodies, but all were
partly broken, or the cloth and gUding was torn
and disfigured. I asked no questions, and did not
go within a few yards of this heap, and so was

AT A GRAVESIDE 163
unable to learn the reason of their lying above
ground, and in such a conspicuous position.
I went back to the mound, and as I stood there
looking first into the pit, and then upon the cora-
raanding surface of the world, a small crowd of
men, and two or three women and children, turned
a corner of the wall, and I saw a coffin borne
towards me. It was on the shoulders of four men.
There was neither priest, sexton, undertaker nor
official of any kind. When they came to the pit
before me, the coffin was put down and the men
said as one, " I suppose it's here ? " Then one of
the grave-diggers called, and wished to know why
a body was brought so late in the evening. There
was a discussion ; and one of the single graves
was chosen close under the wall. At the same time
a young man lifted the coffin lid, for it was merely
laid on, and I saw a well-grown man of about
thirty. He was in a black suit with neat white linen,
and looked no paler or more deathly than most of
those who stood round. The little crowd showed
not the slightest fear of death, and their talk was
quite lively. When the lid was put down, a man
pulled off the bit of yellow braid which ran down
the centre and across the shoulders of the coffin.
Three or four of the children grabbed for this, and
he divided it araongst thera. Then, with his knife,
he lifted off three tin-gilt letters from the coffin
head, and gave them to the children. Later the
coffin lid was lifted again, and a raan took a pair

i64 SOME VITAL CONCERNS
of scissors from his pocket and cut the trouser
fronts from the ankles to above the knees. Then
he cut the sides of the waistcoat and the coat
sleeves. At first I thought the body was to be
buried nude, but the lid was put down and pad
locked, and frora the reraarks of those around, I
learned that the slashing of the clothes was to
prevent their being stolen from the corpse, The
coffin was now placed directly in the shallow grave,
and we all took a handful of earth and performed
the last rites in silence. Two men then fell to
filling the hole — for it was no grave — and the
others lighted cigarettes, smoked, and looked on.
One wretched creature of about twenty-two, and
very poorly clad, had a weird twist in his face and
walk, and tried now and then to cry. He would
lean against the wall, draw up his features and one
leg, and wriggle as if under sorae paroxysm of
nervous pain. Then he would straighten his face
with his hands, and stand up with some show of
courage, looking very intently at the work of the
grave-fillers. This poor fellow was evidently a
relation of the dead man, and he was most truly
to be pitied. He revealed a singular incapacity
to get rid of his grief. His actions seemed scarcely
human, and yet as the central figure he was the
most human of all. I wanted to offer him a
cigarette, but as the others did not, I concluded
he was to suffer alone.
One by one we went off, each saying as he went
"Fehcidad," and God knows that I wondered

THE UNFEELING PRIEST 165
where it was to corae from or to be found ! The
Cross of Calvary towered above me ; and the night
was coming on as I went down through an almost
pestilential part of the cemetery to the main gate,
where two fat and coarse priests and the gate
keeper were raaking raerry over their talk. I had
tears on my cheeks and a heavy pain at my heart,
and their gluttonous faces maddened me. I could
have kicked them out, and kicked thera far, and
raade thera farailiar with mental and physical
pain, of which the brutes could know neither. I
wanted to persuade myself that there is a God
in heaven, and that he has priests on earth with a
care for the souls of — and, aye — even for the dead
bodies of men. But I was proud in that hour,
and conscious that the world's pain and ills, its sin
and selfishness, will never be ended ; and it seems
vain to hope that in this part of the earth we shall
ever corae to possess men, who, if they cannot
keep us to decent living, will at least see that in
the name of Christ and His charity, we are given
decent burial.
Alicante is a clean, well-built, semi-French
town ; and its general appearance, sand colour
shot with pinkish tiles and pepper-sprinkled roofs.
But for a horribly smelly harbour it would be a
pleasant place of resort, for it has an almost limit
less extent of strand, and fish most varied and re
pulsive, so that anglers of all ages are continually
interested. My diary records some " neutral " days here.

i66 SOME VITAL CONCERNS
I do not complain. An old castle with a long
story towers high above the town, and one evening
I clirabed to it and looked out on Alicante. It
seeraed to rae as a broad yellow shed, from which
the noise of the workers arose as so much knocking
and calling. They were struggling down there and
could not get out ! How sobering it is to sit above
the crowd now and then !
Although I often think and write to the contrary,
I begin to know Spain too well. It never for one in
stant loses its glamour ; but many good things have
become commonplace, to the extent that I cannot
pursue thera. Henceforth life must consist in an
intelligent employraent of my time. Apart from
what necessity imposes, I have no desire to work.
Work is the world's mania, and I would be sane,
aloof, and at rest.
As a city, Alicante lives entirely by the exporta
tion of wine which is grown far inland. Ten or
twelve large steamers come and go every day ;
all their burden is wine and more wine. Most of
the juice goes to France for blending purposes, but
considerable quantities are taken to South America
and other early Spanish possessions.
The fishing fleet here is large, but the boats,
with rare exceptions, and their crews are devoid
of interest and very dirty.
As a province, Alicante is frightfully poor —
mountainous, waterless, and composed of such
materials as furnish the meanest supplies of soil.
Dug-out dwellings are discoverable in all directions,

HEROINES OF YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY 167
and there are evidences of occupation over great
periods of time. The dug-out dwellings of Spain
would, if well illustrated and described, form an
interesting chapter.
About fifty miles from Alicante the nature of the
rocks changes, rich soils form, and sufficient spring
and rain-water appears to raake splendid rivers.
It is from these that the most extensive area of rich
land in Spain — ^the vega of Valencia — ^is raade.
The vega extends nearly to Jativa, a sraall and
extremely picturesque town about thirty miles
frora the coast. Jativa is faraous as the birthplace
of Pope Calixtus the Third, the grandfather of
Lucrezia Borgia.
In Ahcante I had replied to Rosario's second
letter ; and whilst hereabouts I received in reply : —
" Murcia, nth April, 1909.
" Querido Don Carlos,
" I was uneasy because I had no letter
frora you, and to-day receive your favour of the
9th. " I am obliged for your good intentions towards
me, and see your chivalry and good-heartedness,
regretting in my soul not to be able to become
your travelling companion, owing to the reasons
that you explain to me.
" I know nobody at Valencia now. If owing
to your good feelings, and the offer you made me
here, you will send me for the railway ticket, or,
for a good souvenir of you as long as I live ; if for
the forraer I will go to Valencia, and if for the
latter I will pay therewith for my necessities. You
are quite at liberty to act with me as your heart

i68 SOME VITAL CONCERNS
dictates to you. You have offered and I accept.
You understand that in writing you thus I do not
wish to exploit you. If, as you indicate in your
letters, it is true that you like [love] me [the terms
are synonymous in Spain], this is the moment in
which to prove it to me, for you know my sad
position, which if it is not more gay is because I
do not want to be bad.
" By registered letter I ask you to send me what
you like, and tell me what use I am to make of the
money, whether for the ticket or to look after my
self. I like you, not for the money, but because I
have seen you are a most worthy person, for if I
ask you for something it is not to exploit you, for
if I had had money I would have gone to you at
Alicante, and if to-day I had some in lieu of this
letter I would go, but she who, such as I, has not
raoney enough for bread, has less for travelling.
Now you will act according to your feelings and
the degree of affection you possess for rae. I beg
you not to leave rae unheeded, and to reply at
once. Since it is not possible to go and be with
you always, at least I hope you will help me with
something for which I shall never forget you, and
if you send rae the wherewithal to leave I will do
so at once.
" Without more for you to-day — conserve your
health well and receive the affection of her who
loves you. Rosario Sanchez."
The answer to this letter amounted to an offer
to send fifty pesetas to Murcia, if proof were forth-
coraing that the money would be received by
Rosario, unknown to Manuela and Don Anisetto.
Sign and gesture are so much a part of the
language of Spain that a stranger is often de
tected before he opens his raouth.

THUMB AND FINGER TALK 169
Much as the British dislike bodily movement
and mannerism, they cannot know, and at the
same time object to, the ordinary hand, face, and
shoulder play of the Spaniards. Here are the most
common signs and gestures — some of which raay
be noted as equally French and Italian.
Rubbing the thurab on the forefinger — as if
sprinkling salt — raeans robbery, jobbery, or sorae-
thing to do with money.
The forefinger placed beside or curled over the
nose means, " Mura's the word," " I warn you " ; or
it may be meant to hide the truth or subtle point
of the thing said. This is a southern and rather
vulgar habit.
The forefinger wagged in front of the face raeans
a decided No.
All the fingers and thumb pinched up and jerked
towards the mouth or throat means an invitation
to dine, or that food is abundant or good, or
would be welcorae, or that one should hurry and
eat raore. It is a sign of want, a boast of plenty
and of hospitality, and always reveals more of
human character than any words.
The hand wide open, and the little finger and
thurab wide apart, bears a rough reserablance to
the cantara — drinking - pitcher. Held in this
raanner and tipped towards the mouth the hand
suggests a drink, or that plenty of wine is about.
When this sign is made, one eye is closed and the
face distorted exactly as one would on taking a
drink without putting the lips to the mouthpiece

I70 SOME VITAL CONCERNS
of the pitcher. This face play is often exceedingly
clever and as genuinely amusing. What is more,
it is never vulgar.
The wide-open and trembling hand, held trans
versely to the body, means disgust, indignation,
or a plea for fairness.
The sudden clapping of the hands against the
hips means " I give it up," " Enough," " It is
fate," " It is the way," " I drink your health in
vinegar." Pressing down a little finger with the thumb of
the other hand is equal to, " Here you have the
truth in its essence " — or, " Accept it from me."
The arms curved over the head, and the fingers
snapped, is an unraistakable sign of joy or happi
ness, as at sudden good news or at a feast or raerry-
making. Stiffening the arm and jerking a thumb towards
a shoulder implies strength for any task or scheme.
This is vulgar.
Holding the open hand before the face and then
letting the fingers drop forward means — " Stop, I
know," or, " Our difference is complete."
Straightening up the body and moving the head
on the shoulders till one is reminded of the letter
S, and at the same time lifting the eyelids and re
vealing a most intimate look, means — "This is
aU," "This is my lot," "God help us," "Fate,"
and similar thoughts and feelings. I have seen
this gesture a thousand times, and never without
being surprised at the extraordinary expressive-

SIGNS OF MODESTY 171
ness. One knows exactly what is meant, and is in
some inscrutable way satisfied. This is the most
fatalistic and unanswerable gesture in Europe.
In offering anything, such as a cigar, flower, food,
or wine, the hand is always jerked up suddenly, and
the gift presented with an intiraate nod and a
stiff back.
The eye is used with extraordinary effect and
performs miracles of deception.
A single hand-clap calls a waiter or cabman or
street hawker.
Ducking the fingers and arm outwards to form
a swan head and neck, means "Stop," or " Come
here " ; whilst the open hand pushed outwards,
equals " Be off ! " or " Go away."
Clapping the thigh is equal to an encore or ap
plause. Clinching the hand over the face or breast —
a feminine action — ^indicates shyness, caution,
modesty, reserve, or fear. It has grown out of the
Oriental habit of veiling the face and breast — the
most sacred part — and imitates the drawing in of
the hood, veil, or neck covering. This gesture is
most graceful, effective, and capable of revealing
the finest shades of ferainine emotion.
Beyond all these signs and movements there is
la lingua de amor y abanica — the language of love
and the fan, as well as the evolutions of the mascu
line lover ; but as I have never " plucked the
turkey," I can say nothing definite on this sub
ject.

CHAPTER XIII
the home of romance
VALENCIA DEL CID rises a sumraer picture
of white and warm blue, set in an almost
boundless frame of restful green. One thinks of
Venice, though the two are little alike. The early
settlement rose out of a swarap intersected by
numerous rivers, and bounded by a languid green
sea. This swamp, when drained and turned to use,
formed the basis of a kingdom, and to-day Valencia
affords one of the world's raost striking examples
of what humanity may accoraplish when in per-
raanent possession of a few square railes of deep
and well- watered soil. ' The raore classic city of
Saguntura towers within sight of Valencia — a
glorious ruin — but still good evidence that the
second Punic War was not so much over the owner
ship of a pile of rock forming a warrior stronghold,
but rather as to who should possess this good strip
of land. Saguntum was known as the key to
Eastern Spain, and it was, in so far as it opened
the door of the great granary of the plain of
Valencia. Those old-time fighting men could win
battles and raaintain their positions only where
there was a chance to dig a hasty meal from a
172

WHERE WARRIORS STROVE 173
fertile soil. Coming to this spot in the spring of
the year, one almost droops under the weight of
actual story and rich natural scents which fill the
air. The streets of the city are perfectly flat,
but the old houses rise into mountains of wonder,
and one bows in reverence, even where one does
not understand.
Though born and buried in Burgos, this is the
actual home of El Cid Campeador — " lord of the
tented field," as the Moors called him — father of
the swashbucklers and king of all national heroes.
The city has been rebuilt many times since his
day, and it is uncertain that he ever walked a foot
of the existing streets ; yet we feel his presence,
for this is his city, these his rivers and fields, this
his sea, and it was under this blue sky that he
lived to make stirring history and to lay the
foundations of romance, which has outlived a
thousand years.
In the Calle Cabelleros — " street for gentle
men ! " — the houses are still veritable strongholds.
Immense iron-bound doors give way to a low,
covered court, large enough to hold five hundred
blustering, armour-clanking fighting men. A
raarble stairway springs out of a mass of carved
stone, and is so wide that men might ascend
ten or twelve abreast, and have room for their
bloody work. The light is feeble — a mere beam
— sent down the chimney -like shaft in the
centre of the building. Steeds snort and sneeze in
dark recesses to right and left, and though they

174 THE HOME OF ROMANCE
are the gentlest of African barbs, and their only
burden my lady's carriage, their echoes turn the
old house into a place of present danger, and when
the fear passes we expect to see some terrible dwarf
or goblin hop down the great stairs. It is sorae-
thing to be able to realise our dreams — ^love and
fear — and actually look upon the enchanted world
of childhood. The city is still in its youth, or is
the home of youth. No one here can be altogether
serious and have done with play. The ghosts are
not laid, but somehow we are not afraid of them —
they are all such audacious and merry rascals. In
winter they might scare a little, but in these bright
spring days the Valencian blood warms and lives
on the sunshine and the orange odours and the
flowers. Strange indeed it looks for Spain to put off her
Moorish cloak and veil and join hands in public
play, yet that is what these Valencians do. It is
Eastertide, when tens of thousands of flower-
decked, hand-linked, roraping bands of maids and
men go forth to the " campo " — the cultivated
plain around the town — there to sing, play games
and make merry, exactly as the chroniclers assure
us they did full five hundred years ago. One of
Spain's earliest singers wrote here :
Come forth, come forth, ye maidens.
The woodlands all are green —
and though the " woodlands " are but low forests
of pale mulberry and soft almond and deep orange-

LOVE AT PLAY 175
green they are centuries on centuries old, shaggy
and storied, shady and inviting. The round robin
is formed within the shade, and that wonderful soul
music of the primitive Spaniard escapes the guitar
till of a sudden a trembling voice is raised — a
faithful imitation of the languorous complaining
of the strings, and then the tale of the heart is
told — never in true rhyming metre — ^hope and a
regret in two uneven lines. The rice-fields are
little mirror-like squares, for they are at all times
flooded, and the foot-wide margins are unequal to
the needs of two palpitating lovers ; hence the air
is full of laughter and reproach, so numerous are
the slips and splashings into the shallow waters.
A visitor reraarks that Valencia lacks colour.
He seems unable to detect the splendid colour of
its life. The streets are always crowded, and the
crowd is clean and very handsome. There are
no beggars, and little visible and objectionable
dirt. In some respects it is a woman's town, for
it has splendid shops, and raakes lovely silks and
laces, rare fans, fine leather goods and jewellery
and furbelows to no end ; but it has many more
enduring attractions, and its official class and their
employraents are as quaint and fascinating as are
to be found anywhere.
A kind of police — there are about half a dozen
kinds in aU — ^wear red coats, and by way of com
plete contrast the postmen are in blue. The city
guards look like comic-opera soldiers, for they are
all slashed and splashed with red and black and

176 THE HOME OF ROMANCE
gold, and wear hats something between an ill-used
helmet and a battered pudding-mould. They carry
sharp swords, wear a sleepy expression, and some
of them have that classic attribute, a " fair round
beUy " of white doeskin, so that one feels much
tempted to play the wag, slap the body of the law
smartly and bolt, exclairaing, " What ho, there !
How goes the watch to-night ? " Lying in one's
bed the voice of the city makes itself heard, for all
the night long the "Sereno" calls the hours. He
is a most useful person, but when not wanted one
feels for him as did Calverley towards his neigh
bour's dog — " loves him, but he will not die." El
Sereno has a horse-pistol, or at least a Colt revolver,
hanging to one of his shanks, and on the other a
huge ring and bunch of keys heavy enough to sink
Horatius. But, aided by a bright steel pike, he
bears up against his load, and tramps his particular
length of street, at intervals calling the hour, and
" It's fine," " It's cloudy," " It's raining," " It's
blowing strong," " There's a flre, but keep cool " ;
" Get up, those wanting to catch the early train."
So he goes on, according to his strength and the
number of enemies he imagines are within hearing.
But when you are out late, El Sereno's virtues are
undeniable. At a hand-clap he appears, finds the
keyhole and the right key ; looks you up and
down to see how you are, and how long it is likely
to take you to mount the stairs, and then, cal
culating to a nicety, he gives you a taper — a
glorified kind of match, which at first sight you

BEATING THE BABY 177
feel you must keep as a souvenir till you realise
that after all it is but a young candle ; so after
you have given El Sereno a penny and assured him
you are not so and so — for if you are masculine and
a foreigner he takes it for granted you are — he puts
you on the first step of the stairs, and makes a
rather rude remark to the effect that you must
keep going. Once I heard him quote a proverb
in an aside, which had for its raoral point the ad
vantages of leading a clean and sober life. Valencia
del Cid is an old-fashioned place truly, yet it has
life enough and an air about it which savours of
eternal spring.
The Valencians are the most mirthful and
genuinely light-hearted of Spaniards. At Easter
tide they reveal themselves in their true character,
and one is charmed to rejoice with them, so sweet
and invigorating is their display and happiness.
This is the ninth consecutive day of feasting and
diversion ; and stUl no sign of boredom or fatigue.
They play many of our holiday and festival
games — all I can recaU except kiss-in-the-ring —
and have a number of open-air games which de
mand forfeits and so make young men look ridicu
lous and taunting maidens happy.
A raost amusing game is caUed " Madre y nino "
— mother and child, — or beating the baby. It is
played by chUdren. A mother and baby are
elected, and a long rope is tied, one end round the
waist or under the arms of each. Then the baby

178 THE HOME OF ROMANCE
sits down and the mother walks out to the full
length of the string. The other children then
have to rush in and beat the baby without being
caught^ In her mad rush the mother frequently
overruns the range of the rope, and in so doing
drags the poor baby along and inflicts far more
punishment than the mock villains. Whoever is
caught takes the baby's place and escapes by next
assuming the role of mother. This game is quite
delightful — excepting for the baby.
The Spanish newspapers nearly always have a
coluran headed " The Religious Life," and devote
a great deal of space to the functions and services
of each day. Priests also corae in for a good deal
of notice in the doings, happenings and prefer
ments of public men. A newspaper " contents "
sheet in Valencia on Good Friday was filled with
these words : death of
jesus christ
pontius pilate washed
a five hours' operation
This had reference to an old and surviving custom,
whereby Pontius, in the form of an effigy, is hustled
and maltreated by the mob, and then washed and
sweetened in readiness for this world or the next —
I don't know which, for some told rae he survived
the five hours' washing and went about his
business, others that he went below, and others

THE RENDING OF THE VEIL 179
again said he was bastante limpia — or clean
enough for el cielo — heaven.
Holy Week in Valencia is nothing more serious
than a sober holiday. True, the people are very
quiet till the resurrection is announced ; then they
break forth in real earnest, and the oddest features
of all are the little processions, made up of children
or adults of the various barrios — or districts — of
their local church, and a few more or less mysteri
ous martyrs and heroes. There are also babies in
cradles and in raangers, and a multitude of wax
figures and fancy candles ; for though it is the
season of Christ the man, Christ the babe and the
Virgin at Bethlehem are not forgotten.
In the Cathedral I saw the rending of the veil,
and confess to being surprised at its ineffective
ness. During a long service, when the point
is reached at which Christ is declared to have
risen, an immense curtain, arranged over the
entire front of the transcoro or choir screen and
support of the high altar, is supposed to be mira
culously rent in twain, and Christ revealed to
the expectant congregation. Time was when the
curtain was rent as if by magic, and heavenly
music burst from a celestial choir ; but the
Church is in all ways enfeebled, and spends less
and less on unprofitable shows. The "veil" now
consists of a double curtain on rollers, and at a
signal each half is drawn aside with a huggle-
guggle sound, like that of stiff wooden cog-wheels,
and that is the only noise. No music. No figure

i8o THE HOME OF ROMANCE
of Christ. No choir of angels. Nothing for the
eye, the ear, or the heart to rejoice over.
In Seville they raake ranch of the " Rending of
the Veil," as they do of all their shows. I have not
seen it in Seville, but as it is carried out in Valencia
it is so poor that if one were not expectant this
incident of the Good Friday festival would never
be noticed.
The Valencian fishing-craft are quite large, for
the local waters are often turbulent and the fishing-
grounds far frora shore. The boats are extremely
wide, almost round, have full, much-ridged decks,
and a low bulwark, signs that they are raade for
rough seas and to shed water quickly. They are
nearly all painted white, and the bow-piece, pro
jecting three or four feet, is surmounted by a thick
hoop of wood, rope, or piece of a fleece, so that it
looks like a turban.
These boats are practically unsinkable. They
are manned by six to ten men, and carry two or
three large pieces of white canvas.
At Valencia one sees oranges in quantity for the
first time — scores of square railes of trees, scores
of railes of river, road, and railway, and scores of
thousands of men, all scented, coloured, burdened
with oranges. The orange crop of Valencia has a
value of about one and three-quarter million
sterling ; reduce this to farthings and you get
somewhere near the nuraber of oranges exported
each year.
As the King was expected, I was regarded as a

NIGGARD NATURE i8i
possible regicide, and shadowed by the country
police for several days. But the Guar dia Civiles
have my complete respect. I know no similar
body so uniformly alert, courteous, and well-
informed of their duties. I have met these raen in
all sorts of places, and never had cause to do less
than admire them. The only thing one might
possibly object to is the cut of their trousers ;
these are poems in wrinkles and crinkles, like
concertina bellows, and every cut is so much at
random that they fit nowhere, except where they
are strapped in at the waist. The Guar dia Civiles
are said to be splendid marksmen, but they some
times miss the floor and spit on one's boots.
To the south of Valencia the hill country
is very poor, and the long, narrow vales com
posed of dry, stony, shallow soil. In the ab
sence of tunnels the trains are composed of two-
deckers, and from the tops of these airy carriages
one gets plenty of pure air and full round pictures
at every turn of the way. But all this region lacks
finish. Pictures iare comraon enough, but the
raaterials composing thera alarm or displease. A
village may show a score of washerworaen laving
garraents in a turgid and stagnant pool. This
water raay be used daily for a year and subjected
to no cleansing save by the influence of the sun.
Then the rubbish-pits, pig-wallows, and drains are
in false positions, and there is no trimness or order
in the domestic plan. Where the land is poor all
inteUigence and industry is used up in plotting for

i82 THE HOME OF ROMANCE
daily bread ; none are working to beautify a
single yard of their possessions, and every ruin is
half an eyesore. In cool and moist regions time
mellows and glorifies the buUder's work ; but here
the weak materials, unsupported by any generous
or inviting landscape, look miserable in their decay,
and proclaim the folly or hopelessness of human
effort. In a country like England we raay preserve
the aims and achievements of a thousand years
and see the land grow more beautiful and strong.
Not so in Spain ; here time mutilates and dis
figures, so that every huraan effort becomes pur
poseless and almost unreasonable. Nothing lasts,
nothing is within bounds, nothing remains private
or hallowed. The very wind at all seasons howls
as much as to say, " I will have change." Fence or
wall confine for no more than a moment, and
then break, not into beautiful ruin, but into pic
tures of futile labour and hopeless loss. And when
we come to the life of the peasant we find hira want
ing in what raan ever desires, a strong hold upon
life. For if the eyes of youth are bright, the
shoulders of age are always swathed in rags ;
and if it can be said it is a blessed climate where
the feet can go unshod, it is chilling to see them
dirty and misshapen. The independent traveller
rejoices in the gaiety and glory of the southern
poppy-field ; but to those who struggle and spend
themselves to win a httle golden grain, the warmth
and colour and brightness of the crimson weed
avail nothing. More often the pretty fields are

NO SIGNS IN DENIA 183
the poor ones, they are the playgrounds of the
weeds ; and one writes this because so raany who
travel in Spain cannot understand why a land
can appear so beautiful and prove so poor.
Towards Denia are wide marshes and meres,
areas reclaimed frora the sea and where rice is
grown in great quantities. The rice cultivators
wear a short white kilt, or petticoat, known as a
caraiset. Rice land soon becoraes polluted and
causes fevers, and there is a law in Spain for
bidding the planting of rice until the land and
water has been approved by a raedical officer.
The Denians are a fine type of people showing
much intelligence and great industry. Their little
town is beautifully clean and without any sign of
a shop, or fonda, or anything to indicate they are
in trade. Whether they are too proud or economi
cal to hang out a sign or put up a shop-front is not
ascertainable. Their explanation is, " We are here
and known, and what is wanted will be asked of
us." Denia is a very companionable place, quiet
and almost Arcadian in its appearance and em
ployraents ; neither poverty nor riches seem to
disturb its folk. A splendid old castle covers the
crown of a conical hill, and the town clings round
the slopes. The fisher-folk are an interesting
group, and use a boat similar to the Valencians,
but much smaller. The catch is taken during day
light ; and just before sundown and supper-tirae,
when the clear evening light raakes a truly sub-
lirae picture of land and sea, the boats return to

i84 The home of romance
port, the fish is taken ashore, and a hasty auction
is made, the hawkers competing for the first lots
that they may be off to supply the housewives
who are awaiting thera with their deep basin-pans
of boiling oil. On the beach, and up little white
walled streets, boat keels of carob wood are laid,
and raany a boat has for its first freight a sleeping
babe or a full cargo of playful children, who, as
the craft nears corapletion, employ their brains in
defining its sex and wooing the builder that it may
be named Bonita Juana (pretty Jane) or J oven
Pepe (young Joseph). There is ever an air of
secrecy and suspicion about the smallest group
of fisher-folk, for any boat is big enough to do a bit
of gun-running between Spain and the Moorish
coast ; there is the possibility of smuggling at all
seasons, and coastguardsmen, carabineros and
others in uniform, look on at each boat in the
making, for its sides may be double, or treble, or,
as a town official said, " The deep sea may call for
a deep (and hollow) keel."
So with all the quiet of Denia and the peace that
broods over its wide bay, every boat is watched,
for as the fisher-folk say, " It's no good owning a
boat that won't carry any sort of cargo."
Denia is the centre of the raisin industry. Over
twenty-five thousand tons of fruit leave the port
every autumn ; and though several other coun
tries have entered the field, the pudding raisin of
Denia reraains the best in the world.
About twenty railes inland a beautiful hollow,

LUXURIES OF VALDIGNA 185
amid the hills, is known as Dignified Valley, or
Valdigna. Here is an exceedingly pretty town
which lives by exporting what it claims to be the
finest oranges on the London market. It is also
famous for its Alpine strawberries, often over an
inch in diameter^ They have a delicious flavour.

CHAPTER XIV
VAGABOND DISCOVERIES AND REFLECTIONS
SAGUNTUM thrills and charms. It occupies
a glorious position, commanding wonderful
views of sea and land, and preserves the story of
over three thousand two hundred years. " How
full, how brimful ! " one exclaims on wandering
here, for though dead so long, it stimulates and
provokes the enthusiasm of youth. History and
romance make all the world, and we should care
little for our own achievements if we felt they
went unnoticed and unrecorded. Saguntum lies
about three miles from the sea on a raile-long
ridge commanding the great plain of Valencia.
Its castle remains one of the largest ruins in the
Peninsula, virtually a city on the crown of the
ridge. No wonder there was a row about the
ownership of Saguntum !
Granada is in some ways more splendid, for it
commands the eternal snows, rivers, many more
trees, a cooler air, softer light, and its nearness in
point of historic time enables one to see, feel, and
iraagine raore about it ; but, taking Saguntum
and the surrounding land and storied sea, it is a
rare place ; this part of Europe can show none
i86

the BRIDE OF FATE 187
more impressive. The Roman theatre remains a
substantial ruin on the side of the hill, and has
its seats cut out of the solid rock. There is a very
old church at Saguntum, but it has been entirely
rebuilt, part of a doorway alone remaining. This
is still a show place, and a man vowed to me that
the church dates frora " a long time before Christ."
There are several exceedingly interesting fea
tures in the domestic arrangements of Saguntum.
The scarf-like towel, but without the water, hangs
frora the walls as in Murcia. Large blinds, with
monograms a foot or more in depth, in bright
coloured wool-work, serve as door-plates and shop
keepers' signs. Most of the shop goods are kept
in immense jars and in deep recesses in the walls.
The water-vessels are little barrels of cork, gaily
ornamented with brass bands and a raouthpiece of
the same metal.
An erraita occupies a part of the hill and is
approached by a pure white road, fOr all the rocks
are kept immaculately clean by frequent white
washings. Sixteen little stations or praying-places
are encountered on the way. When one at last
gains the ermita, a rare picture, helped out by the
fortified heights, the antiquated town, the life and
concern of the rich vega, the distant sea, and last
of all, the white road which leadeth unto rest, is
obtained. This visit was made on a bright sun
shiny day, but later I carae again, when there was
driving rain. The wetting of everything added
enormously to the impressive character of the hills

i88 VAGABOND DISCOVERIES
and forts, the old towers, and the old town. The
moisture brought out the odours of the earth and
their burden of trees, for there were miles and
miles of oranges in full bloom, and the air was
faint to sickening point. Why, I do not attempt
to explain ; but I was corapelled to think of
Saguntura as the Bride of Fate.
As one travels northward, mountains of hard
grey stone rise to reveal many splendid scenes.
At one part of the road a series of shaggy grey
cones are poised like grim giants frowning under
their beards of wind-blown mist. Lower down
these giants have deposited areas of rich and won
derfully well-tilled land ; but even the poorest
parts have the utmost done to them in the way of
cultivation. The peasantry of Castellon are very
distinct frora those of the surrounding provinces,
having quite negro features, and their implements
and field customs are strongly reminiscent of
Africa. One may take the northern road for a couple of
hundred miles and reraain in sight of the sea, but
there is not ranch to be seen in the way of inter
esting garb or fishing-craft. As one nears Barce
lona the fishing-boats suddenly becorae smaller,
like those of the far south. Sitges is the prettiest
little town on this coast. Seen at a distance it is
a perfect picture, and will bear close inspection.
Its women are reputed to be the prettiest in Cata
lunia. But I was much more concerned with what
it holds in the way of employment and human

SITGES THE BEAUTIFUL 189
comfort. It has a tiny bay and quay, a little
fleet and its folk ; there are vineyards, and olive,
fig, and almond plantations all around ; occa
sional palms and innumerable pomegranates;
clambering bougainvillea roses and wistaria ; it
has crowded little streets with pure white walls,
dovecot-like windows, and red and white and
yellow carnations growing bravely in almost every
one of them. Then there are many detached
houses with gardens and lumbering water-wheels,
and a new world bowing and shaking hands with
it, for Sitges is but an hour's run from the great
city of Barcelona, and thereby gains in quietness
and quaintness by contrast through its nearness
to the modern world. To me it seemed to hold all
those luxuries which are comforts, and none which
are a fatigue and a nuisance.
Half the journey from Sitges to Barcelona lies
through tunnels on the steep cliffs by the sea.
Windows are cut in the rock to let in the light ;
one gets the raost fascinating pictures through
thera, especially in the evenings when smaU com
panies of folk are gathering round the smacks on
the shore. The other half of the journey lies over
the richest of plain land devoted to market-gardens,
sraall farms and nurseries. Parts of the country
yield meres and lines of taU white poplars, pro
viding scenes such as French artists love to seize
and paint.
Barcelona breaks on the view as a great manu
facturing, chimneyed, and groaning city, lacking

190 VAGABOND DISCOVERIES
only one thing distinctly English — much smoke.
Here life is varied and distinct from all other to
be seen in Spain ; and it is hard to imagine wider
contrasts in any land than exist between Barce
lona and sorae of the communities of its province.
Mine host of Barcelona works about ten hours
a day ; and, although he knows I am aware of it,
he boasts without turning a hair that he works
but a short six ! Give an Englishman six hours'
work and he will make it sixteen, so pronounced
is his desire to be thought a hard-working man.
Here is all the difference. The Spaniard always
underrates his actual job, and deplores something
or other that is wrong with the country. The
Enghshman exaggerates the weight and import
ance of his work, and doesn't care a colloquial cuss
about his country. This host of mine could be
very amusing ; but he was so opposite to my way
of thinking that I generally laughed when he felt
I should applaud. Only on one point did I most
cordially agree with him ; he is a Catalan of the
raost intense type, and deplores the vandahsm
which is destroying the older parts of Barcelona.
They are knocking down scores of acres of lovely
old houses, destroying for ever the quaintest of
historic high- and by-ways ; and all for the sake
of " progress." Oh, progress ! What crimes are
every day committed in thy name !
I have been studying Catalan, and am now
prepared to say that any one who can run off
" zig-zag gig- wig hic-cup " two or three times and

THE POOR THE MOST CONSERVATIVE 191
not bungle the sentence will soon be at home
with the Catalans. Fun apart, it is a queer sort
of language, reminding one of the two voices of
the Australian bear — the koala — which grunts
when sending out love-signals and makes piping,
shrieking, child-like cries when in danger. The
latter are appropriate enough, but when one
knows the two voices ohe feels they would be
more effective reversed. Also the Catalan. Forty
times I thought the folk angry with me, so wild
and torrential has been their speech, when I was
indeed the happy recipient of their best compli
ments ; but when I have overstepped sorae un
seen line of etiquette, ignored the baby, or for
gotten to stand cigarettes round the table, I have
had to listen to a rather flat and bantering kind
of chant. There may be some method in this, for
most of us can find the left-handed compliraent
and raock gracious word when we feel we have
been injured or " done."
Catalunia constantly reminds one that it is the
poor who supply the conservative eleraent in
human life. These people have an almost spiteful
pride in the possession of their quaint tongue, and
make pariahs of such of their own who are too lazy
to acquire and speak it. We have little reliable
data as to the language of heaven or any other
future asylum, but if languages are passed on and
the world's souls meet in common, there will be
some interesting raoraents in listening to and
learning Catalan. We have heard of the Irish

192 VAGABOND DISCOVERIES
signboard, " If you can't read this, inquire at the
cabin on the left." When I cannot read Catalan
they tell rae, with charraing frankness, that there
is " soraething wrong with my education."
Another word or two about the conservatism of
poor people ; they are never the iconoclasts. For
if they do at tiraes form the mob, and sack, smash,
burn a city, they iraraediately set to work to
fashion and carry it on in the sarae old way. And
what they specially like at home, in their stomach,
on their backs, is what their mothers nursed them
to and made them love as indispensable parts of
theraselves. He who changes his cook often can
be no conservative. He who has money buys
variety. He who reads and reforms, sheds some
of his early faith. He who travels, learns to for
get, and lives in company with the world that is
near at hand. And he who helps to raake the
laws is the same who is bent on change ; and as
all elements sooner or later fall into their natural
positions, it is for the poor and the fixed com
munities to fight for the preservation of things
old, the things which in the enforcement of what
may be terraed the law of enterprise or progress
are always in danger of being overwhelmed.
We do not seek for " links " in large cities, but
in the smallest and most isolated of towns and
villages. Nor do we find any upstart language or
community so full of humanity and soul-sustaining
employments as are those of what we term primi
tive places. It is in this conservatism — this pre-

AWAY WITH THE REFORMERS 193
servation of the old — that all charra is found. The
societies inquiring into folk-lore and ancient
custom usually raake a serai-private hobby of
their tasks, and leave the crowd no nearer to
forraing an estimate of what is within their grasp.
If hell is a reahty I hope it may be filled with
Reformers ! They have a right to their share of
life, but by some slip of nature's pen they have
too often been legalised to spoil their respective
bits of world. It is all very well to clean the town
— ^if it can be done — ^but ruin seize those who
would bring it "up-to-date," and worse than
ruin come to those who would clean the country
also ! We must all come to an age and way
of reasoning when there is comfort in saying
" Let be." If youth were not busy it would
be bad, and as the world's most active workers
are among the young we can see no wisdom
in preaching idleness or indifference. What
should be aimed at and secured, if possible, is an
ennobling and a pleasurable task. We cannot say
that all our labour is necessary, or reasonable, or
honourable. Some is disgusting, much is mislead
ing, much raore is a nightmare. Some tasks are
dangerous in a mean sense, others leave neither a
sound body nor the means to reason, nor anything
like the possession of a human and a private soul,
which we must have if we are to live.
It is easy to comprehend the comparatively
small set of figures — sixteen hundred millions —
roughly the world's population, and to assume

194 VAGABOND DISCOVERIES
that, as we know the manner of their distribution,
we may at a pen-stroke, or hand-stroke, or sabre-
stroke, in the voice of a nation make thera all hear,
act, and change, even to their very skins. Many
do not believe this, but the point is that raany
raore millions do, and did they not so believe,
there would soon be the devil to pay, and, in a
word, panderaoniura.
So it is ignorance, absolute, widespread, and
ineradicable ignorance which keeps the civilised
world going and in a state of balance. It believes
it can change and work wonders, which it does, in
the way of change. But that is unimportant.
Nothing is important which man may do. It may
be necessary for the moment ; at the next a new
necessity will arise. Consider what any reform
has ever done ? Never has there been one which
did not i^crease human misery. You cannot alter
a people's course, or even tell them they are wrong,
and raake them happy. You cannot so much as
increase the supply of human food and reduce the
cost of it without inflicting an increase of human
suffering. It must always be one section at the
expense of another ; for the various peoples of
the world are every moraent of tirae engaged in a
bitter and destructive war. Intelligence makes
for mastery, and what shall be said of the majority
who are servants ?
And the raany voices, and stars to be followed ?
Born of the many distinct sets of elements, nursed
by their several mothers, taught to labour and

THE SUM OF OUR POWERS 195
fight by their several fathers; each by his own sooth
sayer, wizard, and prophet, what can each be but
an opponent of the other ? And the Reformer is
bent on blending these ! We have had no Re
formers who looked back. They have always raade
it their boast that they look forward, even though
the future can never be theirs. It is as dead and
impossible to them as the past, for no man may
stretch his hand as far as to-morrow. Looking
back, we may see that the Reformer and his
Reform was another foundation, and no more.
We do not build, we make no more than plans,
and can arrange no compact with Time. The
world within our grasp is composed of two sets
of material— the face of the world at the moment
in which we live, and ourselves — what we think
about, hope for, and accomplish in the way of in
fluencing the minds of our fellows, and bringing
about more or less altered conditions of life on the
face of the earth.
These comprehend the absolute sum of our
powers. We do not increase, improve, or streng
then, or in any way provide for the race, by our
building, husbanding, and conspiring one with
another. And "if we look back with pride," as
we so often do, it is usually to some hopelessly
vulgar and unnecessary, or intensely cruel wrong
which won our ancestors a victory, or gave the
spoils of a defenceless people to a plundering and
ignoble horde. No, the only pure and truly
satisfying memories are those of childhood. If

196 VAGABOND DISCOVERIES
we dreamed in ignorance we also thought no ill.
Life welled up out of clean minds and warm, earth-
loving hearts. Our hands had touched nothing
vile, and our desires were for unselfish service in the
clear, bright light of day. Given that awful thing
" education," and we began to detect faults in
ourselves and the world. And the world retaliated
by finding fault with us ; so we got drawn into
battle, and have gone on wrangling, scheming, and
fighting to save our "possessions," and have
set aside the gentle voice of our souls which
in the night-watches so often hath said, " Do not
forget rae. Do not leave rae out of your calcula
tions ! Try and remember what you are living
for ! " But with the morning we forgot again,
and went to hell headlong ; God knows to what
end ! Lame, blind, blundering fools ; that is what
raost of us are, lost in a crowd as blind and blunder
ing as ourselves, and possessed of the insane belief
that it is only by knocking down and building
afresh, struggling against, and taking parcels of
brainless material from each other, that we can
come to decent living !
Will it ever be possible for us to see that our
whole scheme, and the faults of it, are the direct
outcome of our false conception of labour, and the
greed, vanity, and fear of our miserably incom
plete selves ? Shall we ever come to see and be
strong enough to make the great Reform — to be
able to say and to prove that life may be lived
for the splendid sensations it can provide, free

THE TRUE REFORM 197
from any mad presumptuous belief that the future
— that impossible hiatus — ^is the goal to be striven
for, rather than the actuality — the means of life
which exists in this to-day ?

CHAPTER XV
AT THE DEEP ARCHES
NO matter by what road one approaches it,
Barcelona strikes one as unlike the rest of
Spain. Few countries hold more variety in the
character of their cities and people, yet there are
sorae things coramon and familiar about them all.
The raost impressive feature of Barcelona is its
newness — a modern, squarely-planned, spacious,
and Haussmannised city. Happily, some of the
old place remains, and this is so strong and ap
pealing that one must hope its silent claims will
be respected.
Modern Barcelona is truly splendid. One ad
mires the architect's broad and all-providing plan
¦ — it is generous in scope ; there is no sign of any
fly in the ointment, though it is in part mal
odorous. The radiating streets run out to catch
the most effective and impressive of hills, and
the vistas of the streets raake perfect pictures,
stand or walk where one raay. The site is beauti
ful, has been made the raost of, and stands a
tribute to Spanish intelligence and capacity wher
ever it gets a fair chance. There are sorae mad
things in houses and public buildings in Barcelona ;
198

A PLEA FOR BARCELONA 199
but she must long remain the queen of Spanish
cities. One cannot take it, all in all, without
discerning that Barcelona possesses a fine soul.
Its splendid squares, its miles on miles of great
avenued streets ; its sombre older parts — strong
as steel to the eye — ^its arched passages and wind
ing alleys ; its great markets ; its industrious
hives of trade in infinite variety ; its institutions
and places of amuseraent ; its parks, drives, and
gardens ; its statues and other memorials to Cata-
lunian story and Catalunian men ; the hundreds
of cafes where the draught sobers and sustains, all
that bespeaks strong, full life ; — no beggars ; no
sign of awful poverty ; no awful vice ; no lazy
hordes ; no rapacious greed ; no cruelty ; no
utter weariness — but a busy and a natural way
of life, where there appears to be enough for all,
and it is impossible that this should be the out
come of a degenerate or unworthy people.
I made it my business to go through all the poor
parts of Barcelona, and to discover nothing un
sightly or half so bad as would be found in any
English-speaking town with one-quarter the popu
lation. Poor folk must present squalid pictures
the world over ; hunger and lust must display a
more or less ugly face ; but we do wrong in sup- .
posing that Barcelona is a sink of iniquity or a
past-hope sort of place because a few political
malcontents and anarchists have it for their
asylum. At Barcelonetta I saw the most repellent group

200 AT THE DEEP ARCHES
of humanity I have encountered in Spain. This,
the marine quarter to the north of the city, is given
up to the poorest class, and to a nuraber of indus
tries connected with the sea. Here are hundreds
of hovels and raere burrows raade out of the
flotsam and jetsam cast ashore. There would be
nothing dreadful in this if the people were com
pelled to observe a few of the domestic decencies.
But they do not, and it is quite impossible even to
hint at the animal-like lives shared by the popula
tion of this quarter.
Wanting nothing half-French, or Spanish im
proved, I dwelt in a narrow and heavily buUt
street, the greater part of which was in perpetual
shadow, cast by a row of deep arches carrying
quaint old houses. These were such a pronounced
feature that I felt an appropriate name for the
quarter would be " The Deep Arches," and I had
no sooner secured a lodging than I found that was
actually the case. My hostess, Juana, was a bright
and ready-witted little woman, and so cynical as
to give every one a nickname. One of the lodgers
was a prim, stumpy woman from Ger ona ; Juana
regularly called her " La Trok "; and although I
never knew what it meant, it expressed the prim,
waddling little Geronese to the life.
The northern Spaniards know nothing of Leviti
cus, and have a habit of handling food-stuffs after
it is supposed to have passed to the sacred posses
sion of one. My neighbour at table is a great
politician, that is, when not engaged in business.

THE STAFF OF LIFE 201
He is an india-rubber stamp merchant, and con
ducts a portable establishment propped against
one of the walls within the shadow of the deep
arches. At home he is most obliging and anxious
to inform rae of the state of politics, and in doing
so twice a day wields a power just as big as ray
bit of bread. It is always a big bit, but he gets all
over it just the sarae, and I feel he has somehow
got his hands inside it before I can get it inside
myself. Catalan loaves are exactly like three-
cornered hats, with slashes made in the dough at
the corners, so that they present the most natural
of curled brims. Juana cuts long slices with a bit
of the hard brim to each, and it looks very like a
series of hatchets with hammer-heads which she
lays round the table. I do not find them instru
ments of war, but my political friend does, and he
has a regular habit of breaking up his own slice
and then seizing mine as a threatening weapon,
which he will use unless the Government alters
the condition of the country, and that mighty
soon ! One day I put my bit of bread on the other
side, and Juana picked it up and slapped it down
again in its former place, fixing me with a com
manding eye which said as plain as day, " You
alter ray plans, if you dare."
At one of our arches sits an exceedingly pretty
girl of eighteen. Did I not know truly, I should say
she was twenty-five, her face, figure, and bearing
are so well finished and woraanly ; so it was but
natural that I should estabhsh a srailing acquaint-

202 AT THE DEEP ARCHES
ance. She sits in the archway sewing bedticks,
and her mother has a portable oven and row of
flesh-pots, for she is a specialist in cooking. The
neighbours take raw materials to her, or say what
they want, give her the raoney, and she prepares
the required raeal. As a neighbour ray custom had
been sought. One day, Angelita's mother (I have
no idea what the girl's name may be, but Ange-
lita would suit her well, for she has a cherub's
face), well, her mother barred my way by holding
out a giant egg-cup or little red clay bowl on a
long stem and foot-piece, and in this bowl was a
most forlorn little custard with one phlegmatic
eye of a bit of green pistachio nut. I had to smile
at the toothsome morsel, and was prepared to
swallow it on the spot, when I noticed its face
well peppered with city or kitchen dust. So I
declined, and was about to pass on when the good
woman remarked, " It was a work of art on all
sides and extra good in the middle," and to prove
her words she turned the languid thing out on her
hand ! It was a clean and beautiful hand, but —
well, somehow !
" Meraorialistas," or public letter- writers, occupy
little sentry-boxes in all Spanish towns, and write
letters for all classes. I reraember one in Malaga
with a sign :
" Here we write love letters in
faultless language, and use the
most exalted and sweetest words.
Price one halfpenny."

WET NURSES 203
Four letter-writers' boxes stand against a wall near
the deep arches, and it is interesting to watch the
faces of the correspondents as they give directions
to the professional scriveners.
Amongst the daily visitors to our grey old street
is a herd of small she-asses, snuff-brown and black
little creatures, with distinctive bells hanging frora
their necks, quaint red cloaks bordered with yellow
braid along their backs, and red bobs of wool
worked in the hairy tufts at the tops of their long
ears. They have also a cone or high rosette of
red braid stuck on their foreheads, like a little
hat, which gives them a most rakish and groggy
appearance ; they seem to sulk under this as they
mooch along as if saying, " Isn't it enough to
raother the whole town without being raade into
guys and proclaimed for the asses that we are ? "
For these are the milch donkeys — purveyors of
the raost approved fare to delicate babes and
people of all ages needing nourishing food.
Nata, the result of fresh and well -whipped
cows' milk, is the stock food for weakly children
in north-eastern Spain. It is a pure white spume,
reminding 9ne of the frothy crown of a custard.
The Spaniards mix the nata with cinnamon, lemon,
and a little fine sugar, so that it has a rare delicate
flavour ; it is sold at milk-shops, on broad green
leaves, which are pinched up when offered to the
customer in a truly Oriental style.
Whilst living at the deep arches I received this
letter : —

204 AT THE DEEP ARCHES
" Murcia, 7th May, 1909.
" Appreciable Sir Carlos,
" I have received your letter of the 5th,
and my answer must be, I am surprised you did
not reply to that which I sent to Valencia.
" I am completely abandoned ! Pepe Mula —
whom you know was my friend [the actor Manuela
sought in Cartagena] — ^has gone to Oran and has
married an actress of the company. I have not
paid Manuela, and thanks to her I have not died
of hunger, but that is because I do not wish to be a
bad woman. With the money I would have joined
you at Valencia, and that would have been
pleasant, but now, as I find myself abandoned, I
pass the days crying and consoled only by Dona
Manuela, who does what she can for me.
" I have received all your letters, and those
which I send you are written by a confidant friend,
as my writing is bad.
" About love I do not say a word ; that would
be better expressed by your side. You say in your
letter you wish to give to me and not to Manuela,
and I repeat if you have such good intentions to
wards me, if it is true you regard me with such
good sentiments, please do something for me, who
loves you and would be with you. Affection is
shown by good actions, and I hope you will prove
the same. It is not my desire to deceive you, and
I ask nothing. You may send me whatever you
will to relieve my sad situation, for which I would
be very grateful ; and at the same time you will
tell me what I ought to do. I am at your dis
posal. " If you send me help I will be most grateful,
and will ever preserve the memory of your good
action. ... I love you, and it would be much to
me to receive the favour which in aU your letters

THE LAST OF DON ANISETO 205
you have promised me, and which I accept. I
repeat that I receive your letters, and ray replies
are written by a friend of mine.
" I do not go out as I am shoeless. As I am on
the ground floor I personally receive your letters,
and to answer you I send for my friend. If you
have faith and affection send according to your
bounty and good heart. I would not be able to
cash it, as I have no cedula (the flourish after the
signature which is always necessary), so send it in
the name of Dn. Aniceto Lucio (!) as he will cash
and pay it to me. I plead with you to send me
help, and my love will be yours for ever. Don
Aniceto and Da. Manuela send their regards.
" Receive my affection from this one, who loves
you, and take you this — x " Rosario Sanchez."
This was so obviously the work of Don Aniseto
and his sposa Manuela, and here the reader may
observe the misspelling of his name, that I wrote
and told him he was a rascal — ^perhaps I said more.
Anyhow, it was enough, for I never heard again.

CHAPTER XVI
A GREAT SHRINE
ARMED with the bald facts that Montserrat
^ is one of the great shrines of the world ;
that it dates from early in the eighth century, and
that it has ever since been piling up religious,
political, and military history ; that it has been
a place of pilgrimage for scores of millions of
solitary seekers after grace, and that down to this
living present over 100,000 souls journey to the
sacred mountain every year — these facts alone
make me anxious to come more directly under its
spell. The jagged mountain — as its name implies,
rises about forty miles from the coast of Catalunia,
an offshoot of the Eastern Pyrenees. Leaving
Barcelona, a business-like train rushes through
market-gardens and farms, skirts rivers and leaps
them, trips by meadows and climbs or curves
round bare and wooded slopes, and then dips again
into unusually gay fields — poppy in the corn, may
on the thorn by the streara side. Breadths of lilac-
flowered lupins and vaster breadths of bhie borage
and purple veitch make the landscape sing almost
aloud of the joys of spring, and the presence of the
vine helps to the spirit of conviviality which reigns
206

A JOURNEY HEAVENWARDS 207
in the air. Then we pass through dull red and
churlish hills, where nothing more profitable than
yellow broom and wild thyrae have a home ; next
a tunnel or two, a glimpse of higher ground, a
broad green river, an altered tone in everything,
a peculiar desire for silence, and the train a sacri
lege, and before the feeling can be defined or re
fined to any special need, the mountain of Mont
serrat breaks upon us, the train stops, and we
begin to feel small and timid and alone.
Montserrat is a giant castle of most fantastic,
bewitching, and impregnable mould. It rises in
alraost perpendicular lines for a little over 4000
feet, and in such a way that every foot tells. One
raay easily see higher country, but must travel far
to see anything more impressive.
It is about twenty-four miles round the base of
this mass of sculptured, and at a distance bare,
stone, and the monastery shows out on a precipi
tous ledge, about half-way up the fort-like walls.
The air is beautifully light, and our first and last
worldly thought here is occasioned when about
five shillings is demanded for a seat on the tiny
railway train which runs to the hospice.
There is a good, though frightfully steep road,
and we think we might walk and save the five
shillings, but are soon glad to have escaped the
fatigue and to be able to sit in the train at ease and
enjoy the splendid scenery which breaks into new
glories at every turn of the zigzag way. We were
nearly two hours in climbing to the hospice — it is

208 A GREAT SHRINE
a little over five railes — all the time growing more
timid and shy — a feeling impossible to explain, for
its like had never been ours before ; and it was
noticeable that, excepting a few young and local
people, the other travellers were equally silent and
compelled to mute adrairation. The train bore us
to the very gate of the monastery, and by this
time some opinions had been formed.
Our first thoughts were of the wisdom of the
fathers — those early saints, or tired, or far-seeing
souls, who wanted the best in a quiet way. This
shrine is literally a natural beauty and wonder spot,
invested with a few splendid superstitions and
much holy faith. As a place, it possesses a kind
of personality. It is nature visible and audible
and therefore it is very easy, since it is true, to
say that here one may listen to the voice of God.
Whatever appeals to, fills and delights the soul
within us forbids all further reason, and, coming
to a natural sanctuary like this, we are able at
once to put off all fear, concern, and longing, and
grow calm in the trust that we are at last at home.
We had these thoughts as we climbed up and up,
and somehow the blustering and sweltering engine
seemed nothing less than an instrument of God to
relieve long-tired feet, and bring us nearer to the
goal of our hopes.
The hospice is really a small village, composed
of a dozen or more hospital-like buildings for the
accommodation of the Benedictine brotherhood
and the everlasting stream of pilgrims. Over looo

HOME AT LAST 209
cells, containing 2500 beds, exist for the public
alone, and, though we arrive at a dull season of the
year, we have the pilgrira at the gate saying, with
Christina Rossetti :
will there be beds for all who seek ?
to be relieved by the smile of a youth, who, with
familiar eyes, replies :
Yes. Beds for all who come.
And so it proves. Thus far no sign of priest or
brother, or anything monastic or ecclesiastic. A
few mute attendants at the little rail platform — or,
if not mute, their only words to voice the way to
the booking office, where we ask admission, have
our names and addresses entered, and are given
the key of a cell. A youth in peasant costume gets
bed-linen and a tiny towel for each, arranges
the beds, tells us to read the rules, and then dis
appears. The rules are few and easily observed.
We are forbidden to throw anything from, or even
hang anything in, the windows, as the fall is often
so great that a little thing would easily kill any one
walking below. Another rule says we must shift
entirely for ourselves, and keep the cell clean
and tidy. Next, we are to give two hours' notice
before leaving ; and the last rule is a plea that we
will offer no reward of any kind to the resident
population of Montserrat. At the first glance from
the window we were inclined to be dissatisfied
with our cell — ^it did not command the best aspect

2IO A GREAT SHRINE
for viewing the valley — but hke a native thought
came the words :
N-uns fret not at their convent's narrow room,
And hermits are contented with their cells.
And in truth we should have been. Our cell is
a simply furnished bedroom. Its actual contents
are two small iron bedsteads, with ample and per
fectly clean clothing ; a strip of matting on the
floor, two rush-seated chairs, a small deal table,
with a drawer ; a fairly large wall mirror, a light
iron washstand and set of ware in sheet iron,
painted white ; a flat brass candlestick, a clay
pitcher for drinking-water, a small iron hat-rack,
and a running curtain to screen off the portion
occupied by the beds. The floor is of large, pale
red bricks ; the walls whitewashed, and the win
dow is of the French type, and runs from floor to
ceiling. The cells vary a good deal in size and the amount
of light they admit, the most modern buildings
providing cells with greater comfort ; but all are
comparatively roomy — twelve to fourteen feet
each way — and the furnishing is virtually the same
for all. I have described the cell with some detail
for the benefit of those who may be curious of the
accommodation afforded at a popular shrine.
Before we lost interest in the cleanliness and
coraparative comfort of the cell, we had grown to
discover a world of beauty in the wall of rock rising
in front. The mountain rises like a heavenly stair

A PLACE OF PURIFICATION 211
— a 1000 or 1200 feet of magnificent shafts of
detached stone, each tall and broad enough to
furnish a church steeple. We wished to see down
the valley, but soon the inclination was to look up
and be humbled. Humility does not preserve a
bowed head in this place. We had it as we entered,
but as the heart becomes fortified with the clear
light air, the eyes open to discern new qualities in
the light above. Our cell in order, we went forth
to buy bread, wine, and a taper. There is a
restaurant for those who do not care to buy and
prepare food in their cells, but the vast majority
go to a store, where all kinds of food and drink
may be purchased, and the prices are very low. A
large pound of bread costs twopence, and a full
bottle of wine twopence -halfpenny. Although
everything is so silent and free from restraint, the
appetite does not grow here. All are in some way
impressed with the broad fact that this is a place
where the body is of little account. All the water
used is direct from the rock, and although cold to
iciness, it is positively sustaining.
We have a subtle desire for greater personal
cleanliness, and though the air is chilly to raw cold,
clothing is almost an abomination. The hands
appear a size smaller, and gain in sensibility, for
they are constantly grasping at friendly shrubs by
the precipitous paths, and in some unusual way
telling us that these are our friends, so that we
come to a fuller understanding of what is about
and above us, and then, lo ! a sense of the sun in

212 A GREAT SHRINE
our faces, and there is neither desire nor weari
ness, nor heartache, nor any longing, nor that
state of reasoning which is pain. Perhaps these
phantom-like and yet wondrously substantial hills
have wrought this change in us ; perhaps it is the
feeling that we have escaped the world, or it may
be memory, roused by the presence of so many
familiar flowers and shrubs which grow upon the
crags and within the glades. The mountain,
flowers, odours, dreams, one or all together, have
found us, and we say again, for the words ring like
a dirge or possess the fascination of a new tune,
" The wisdora of the fathers ! The wisdom of the
fathers ! " For it is they who have led the millions
hither. From our cell we raay look out on a hundred
little natural gardens, hanging with all their grasp
ing strength to the ledges and crannies of the
raountain, and where it is pleasing to reflect that
no raortal foot has ever rested or ever will rest
till there is an earthquake, when, of course, they
will not be the sarae gardens. When we come to
close quarters with Montserrat we pronounce it
a vast rock garden, wrought by the forces of nature
in their mightiest strength, designed with won
drous skill and planted to instruct, rest, and de
light every eye — a garden so vast, intricate, and
perilous that no one may know it or become sati
ated. And then the frame. It is fifty railes deep 1
Is studded with eighty towns and villages ; illumi
nated by shimmering rivers and glittering banks

THE SOURCES OF A SHRINE 213
of snow, and lakes of cloud and fields of every hue.
In fact, it has the world for its frame, and we
pilgrims are glad to be of the Holy Mountain —
alone, above, away frora it all. But we trust as
we do look out and down upon what has been our
world ; and when we have gazed and thought and
gazed till we can do so no more, we retire to our
cell to discover that these material things in their
strength and majesty are the actual sources of a
shrine. We who come here feel that the rocks and the
very winds which blow about them are preaching
impressive sermons. We think of the stone wor
shippers of all times and climes, and come a step
nearer to the philosophy of all religions. But we
are not led to pursue any fatiguing thought, for
the raountain leads, and even the human story
and human handiwork about are ever restful and
final in the lessons they teach. Happily there has
been no attempt to " beautify " and vilify the
mountain, and we are always in the presence of
nature. By the mountain road and principal walks
there are many crosses and pieces of statuary,
and also seats and fonts where sacred and profane
pUgrims raay rest and slake their thirst. But none
of these offend ; they are of the Holy Mountain,
and apart from convenience or beauty or story,
keep us to the same atmosphere and mood. Just
above the monastery, tucked away under pro
jecting rocks and boulders, are many graves, but
so small they could never have held complete

214 A GREAT SHRINE
bodies. They are probably urns holding the bones
of such hermits or pilgrims as were found exposed
on the mountain.
Far away on the wildest heights, and amid the
crannies of gorges, the hermit holes are, many of
them, the merest troughs, and men who lived and
died in these were often sealed up in them, so that
their bodies crumbled on the very spots where they
had chosen to pass their lives. We may wander for
days and yet see very little of the mountain and
its numerous ancient habitations.
The " ermitas " are everywhere, raany of
them in such dangerous positions that we are
thrilled, scared, and fascinated by the daring and
aloofness of those early Christians who elected to
climb and contrive and dwell in them. These were
the only spots rendering men proof against the
temptations of the world ; they were strongholds
against the devil and the wrath of God ; they
defied infidels in arms, and were often the hiding-
places of church treasure during periods of unrest
or plunder or war. That men did and could live
in these places century after century is one of the
marvels of human life and human story. Even
in the presence of the obvious we are inclined to
deny that these slabs and vertical walls and jutting
crags could ever be scaled and held by raan. To
day there are no traces of the raeans of ascent and
descent, but there must have been rope ladders or
lashed spars or light timber, or bundles of faggots
hung against the cliffs, most probably some con-

THE HERMIT'S LOT 215
trivance Which could be drawn up and let down
at wiU.
And to live in such spots ! The airiness and the
eerieness ! The stern cold challenge of the ele
ments over every movement of time ! The utter
silence, except the voice of the wind and the driven
rain. The ever present danger of the rocks slipping
from above, or slipping from below, and they do
slip at comparatively short intervals ; and the
limitations of the hermit's domain I They were
often as much bound and craraped and frozen as
raariners lashed to the look-out in Arctic seas ; or
between the floor and the rock roof above they
passed their years in a stoop for want of room to
stand upright !
Much of the stone is of flint-like hardness, and
we see where, with small hand tools, they literally
scratched their way into safe hiding and secret
dwelling-places. And the men who did these things
had often taken part in the great affairs of nations.
They were of varied scholarship, and of all stations
and estate. As hermits, they had neither soil nor
water at hand ; no certain draught or a solitary
plant for refreshment, or study, or delight. They
ignored the companionship of cats and dogs, and
they believed so far in liberty as not to encage a
bird. Security and privacy they claimed by divine
right, they aimed to possess no more. They saw
the sun first in the morning, but its life-giving
rays were not for them. They saw the clouds

2i6 A GREAT SHRINE
make green the low valleys and the rippling hiUs,
but they thought not of harvests and dry barns.
They saw the long hot summers parch the plains
into deserts, but no sound of poverty or pain rose
up unto them. From their ledges of rock they saw
the clouds gather and descend like arraies to war,
and mingle and disappear in the earth below. The
lightning's flash and the re-echoing thunder from a
hundred cavernous walls awoke no fears in them.
Their business was above the affairs of earth ; their
only concern for the souls of men. Down the
mountain for a scrap of food, for water, and a
stick for a fire. Down the mountain for flat stones
or round stones, as they desired to build the wall
or lay the floor. Down the mountain to tell of the
heavenly lights they had seen, and the voices they
had heard, the lights and the voices which we may
see and hear to-day. Down the mountain to re
joice with a great company that the raountain
should be found holy. Down the mountain to gird
on the sword, and bless those who would march
against the Saracen in the East. Down the moun
tain to discover and cover the corse of brother
Benedict. Down the mountain to proclaim the
cross triuraphant over the crescent in Spain.
Down the raountain for a root of the medicine
plant — the aloe — which brother Juan Bautista
had brought from the new world. Down the
mountain to see Ignatius Loyola dedicate his
sword and his life to God's service. Up and down
the mountain for nigh 1200 years, and when these

AN AWFUL SITUATION 217
exercises failed another hack and scratch at the
rock, another sfone this way or that, another last
home prepared, another lonely death, and then no
more. Sitting in the midst of this fastness we feel that
if the lives of these old hermits were not in all ways
lofty and splendid, there is yet something about
them which holds us to their haunts with the grip
of a warm fire on a raw night in winter. We de
voted one day to the hermitage of San Juan —
gaining it by a modern stair cut in the rock —
which is one of the most marvellous of human
dwelling-places. It lies on the side of a bare mass
of rock four thousand feet above the sea, exposed
raw, and storm-swept at all seasons. A rent to one
side has left a jutting wall many hundreds of feet
high, and running across this face of iron-hard
stone is a band of red sandstone from two to three
feet wide. In the eighth or ninth century this
band of soft stone was gained by descending a
crevice, then the hermit scratched and scraped
and formed a track round a terribly overhanging
mountain of rock. Then he worked in and in, and
raade man-holes at intervals, and doubtless hung
a wood rail to save himself from falling into the
valley below. As the years went by the hard stone
above the sand was attacked, and to-day we may
in places stand upright, whilst in others we crawl
on all-fours and tremble violently all the time, for
the wooden rail seems nothing against our weight,
and if we should lean against it or slip- — — !

2i8 A GREAT SHRINE
So overborne were we by the frightful strain of
gaining the end of this hermit's lair that we lay
in the last semi-dark stone trough, as cold and un
canny as a tomb, and there gave ourselves up to
wonder and to drearas.
Friar Juan Gari, who fashioned this retreat, and
is the first historic character in the story of
Montserrat, converted us to his way of thinking,
so that as we lay we saw the raission and the in
fluence of the generations of herraits. The friar
hiraself, speaking quite audibly, said this unto us :
" We took no pride in sitting in semi-darkness
among these rocks. We did not enjoy solitude,
but we discerned a task which enjoined it. You
cannot have bad men in isolation. Remeraber that.
It is the crowd which, provides the painful sins.
We had heard of Christ, and it was our duty to let
others know of Hira. Not of the bad, but of the
good brotherhood, let us speak — those who gave
Christ to Europe. He is not an Asiatic, but a Euro
pean liberator and standard of right living. Here in
this cell raore than a thousand years ago I said —
enough of your concerns which are of no concern,
enough of your fears which are all for yourselves ;
enough of happiness which is without reason. I
will accept none of your worldly hopes. I will see
you only as worras in a perishing furrow, in a
world so unstable that ye never can grasp a thing
and call it blessing. And without this what is any
thing to us ? Come not with me and abide in this
raountain ; come not with me to the ascetic and

THE ROMANCE OF CHRISTIANITY 219
austere life. I would deny ye no splendid thing.
And looking back, do ye not see that we gave ye
understanding! We -starved for ye; went into
the deserts and the lonely places for ye ; we denied
ourselves for ye, and we gave ourselves for ye ;
we grew to be young-old men that we might come
by the truth and make it plain for ye ; we saw the
light, and pursued it ; we wept and slept and
dreamed and woke to the knowledge of the way
for ye. This is the story of the pilgrim and the
hermit, the monk and the monastery. Out of
these have proceeded the science of religion and
the science of civilisation, the science of govern
raent and the science of the elements. Independent
of us ! Indeed ! Of no account ? Indeed ! Where
on do ye build ? Do ye except a century in the
incidents of Time ? Do ye accept Christ in the
scheme of Europe ? Do ye accept the men who
revealed Hira to ye ? Do ye accept history, ac
knowledge art and live by the soul of Europe ? And
do ye discern any beauty or worth in these things
before we half-naked and ascetic beings came ?
Be honest. What power gave civilisation to
Europe ? Was it Christ, and if so, who were His
ministers ? Turn back to the page and again turn
back. Don't stop at the point where we grew
impotent and abominable, but turn back to where
we were pure and noble. In those days ours was
the treasure of these everlasting hills. Our faith
grew out of what we saw as evidence of God. We
accepted virtue as a necessity, and discerned no

220 A GREAT SHRINE
way by which men could be in all things just tUl
we had shown self-sacrifice, open-handedness and
service. And if you would deny that we gave
much, what will you say we took frora the world ?
Ours was the cold and the lonely way, and to those
who can or ever will think, shall we say raore ? . . ."
When we got horae that night there was no one
to welcome us, nor any one to whom we felt we
should tell of what we had seen and heard, for all
are in the same way possessed and informed. The
raountain and its story is everything, and the
raonastery grows to be a raere convenience. True,
there is a lovely chapel, and where the services are
so ,devotional that it is a delight to kneel through
vespers extending over two hours. Two choirs,
one of monks in a high gallery and another of
thirty gowned and surpliced boys, sing heavenly
music whilst standing through all the two hours
behind a screen, and when at last they kneel round
the quiet and unmistakably good priest on the
floor of the high chapel, we feel that God's blessing
has indeed fallen upon the world.
The whole area of Montserrat is less than ten
acres, and nearly all is built over, so that there
is but little garden space, and small chance to
walk in the evening, since the low walls are not
sufficient to save one from tumbling into space
to certain death. Still, no one can be bored here.
The days are so enthralling, for every one climbs
and wanders from morn till night, and after vespers
all are ready for bed.

MONASTIC EMPLOYMENTS 221
The monastic day is very simple. About seventy
monks raake a study of church music, for which
the monastery is celebrated. There is also a school
of rausic for youths who are to enter the church.
A raost spiritual priest conducts the public services,
and the whole institution is presided over by an
abbot. We pilgrims are expected to leave a few shillings
in reward for the cell and the linen used, and it is
from these freewill offerings that the great estab
lishment is maintained. Visitors are not supposed
to stay more than three days, but we stayed a
week, and were told we might stay until the crowd
began to press in for the summer. Montserrat is
in one respect a sanatorium. Large numbers of
priests and lay brothers who cannot afford a
holiday at great expense, come here owing to its
rare climate and inexpensive mode of life. It is
also a favourite place for poor brides and grooms.
For a hundred miles around the peasant maid
holds it as an article of faith that her marriage will
be blest if she can pass the closing days of her
honeymoon at Montserrat.
The pilgrims are from every land, but they have
ceased to travel hither in anything like picturesque
or weary pilgrira garb. Every morning about a
score of peasant women and girls trudge up the
mountain road, accompanied by donkeys or mules
laden with fresh vegetables and fruits, and these
they spread on either side of the path we take
to morning service. The comestibles make a kind

222 A GREAT SHRINE
of harvest festival display, and fill us with the spirit
of thanksgiving. The special attraction for pU
grims is the honey these women offer. It is just
ordinary honey to the eye, but it possesses a
strangely wild and yet familiar aromatic per
fume, a combination of gorse and broom and wild
thyme. Our week is at an end. It has gone like a flash,
and yet it has been a leisurely life through twelve
centuries. We leave in the same silent way that
we approach, which is raost befitting, for we know
we have somehow touched the highest, and that
we are passing for ever from what is in very truth
a great shrine.

CHAPTER XVII
THE CRADLE OF THE CID
COMING to Burgos in the spring of the year
it almost takes one's breath away, so gener
ous and storied and sweet is everything in sight.
The Burgalese are the Scots of the Peninsula —
a sturdy, big, and silent yeoman class — and all
they do makes for effect and sober strength. They
are blessed with a comparatively rich piece of land,
a rare climate, and the face of the landscape is so
moulded that it is everywhere beautiful. Then
history preserves her links here, and there is a
sense of wealth in all around. I had not been here
many hours before I had written : "I don't care
who is King of Spain so long as I can remain a
citizen of Burgos." In many places we are
charmed by pictures of poverty, but, after all,
there is more to sustain in looking on a well-
dressed and healthy crowd. Burgos is blessed I It
provides work for all its sons, and there is no vulgar
ambition ; no awful longings or hopeless pains ;
no " Incurable deep ills," as Heine wrote ; nor
any lack of splendid things in nature and art.
History, story, employment, a fair land, and the
joy of being — these are all obtainable in Burgos.
223

224 THE CRADLE OF THE CID
At our fonda we were talking of the lot of the
different groups of Spain, and I urged the larger
blessings of the peoples of the northern provinces.
" I don't know," said a commercial traveller from
Valencia. " What are you to call blessing ? There
is the Galician, who when he has good soil, — more
than he can use and more raoney than he can in
telligently spend, raoons round, an ignorant boor;
and there are the Levantines, the people on the
south and east who have a bit of desert for soil, a
bare rock and the sea to contemplate ; but the sun
warms them, and they can think and laugh and be
happy. Which life is best ? " These are the actual
words of the Spaniard, and knowing him, one can
raake but short coraraent. Every Spaniard swears
by his own province, and it is impossible that he
can be wrong.
The British traveller is influenced largely by
trees; and where they are absent, as also trim
gardens and the scent of flowers, he cannot bring
himself to feel at home. It is perhaps for this
reason that Burgos appeals so directly, for though
the town itself is close-built and verdureless, the
surrounding country is decked with glorious trees,
and the river is of all city rivers the most Arcadian
and satisfying.
I never knew a river to charm and delight as
does this Arlanzon. Its course alone is fascinating,
for it comes in frora the east through broad, green
raeads, a number of silver streams, and just above
the town gathers itself into one wide flow, and

RIVER, FIELD AND TOWN 225
then divides again and glides through the town
under five well-formed and low bridges, then turns
and goes straight into the arms of the west ; and
at evening one sees a stream of all colours and
degrees of glory as the light fails, and the back
ground of cloud and sky and setting sun play and
blend and enfold each other. Up the stream it is
the same, for the morning light appears to rise
out of the streaks of silver, and the tall, straight
trees stand wrapped in silent praise, as if placed
there for no other purpose than to salute the morn.
And the bed of the river within the town 1 It is a
bed indeed : a wide and long well-garden, for deep
walls bound it as it flows past the city ; and flocks
of pure white sheep, little ponies, and languorous
cows lie or browse upon the butter-cupped-and-
daisied fields — for fields exist here, quite long and
spongy meadows, intersected by streams which in
spring are white with a little flower formed like
a buttercup, that rises out of a plant whose
leaves are kept prone by the running water. The
king-cups are so tall that the little children can
scarce be seen above them.
Then there are long strips of slender flag-iris,
and stretches of gravel and pure sand where the
washerwomen and girls gather by the hundred
and lay out all the colours and garments of Burgos
on the flowery meads. And though the washing
is unending, the streams are clean ; no amount of
soap and clothes seems to make any difference.
This is due to the hurrying of the river. It falls
Q

226 THE CRADLE OF THE CID
about fifteen feet in its mile passage through the
town, so no dirt stays to be seen or realised.
Nearly all the trees by the river are tall, straight,
and deep green poplars, and the bridges are white
and low and long, in perfect harmony with the
broad, soft bed. Where the boundary-walls end
there is a terraced fall and a rapid which gives off
true music, and the air does not die away until it
passes under the shadow of a bank of pld elms,
grey willows, and wych-hazel, these relieved by a
sprig or two of hawthorn, a bush of golden labur
num, and a stately horse-chestnut in full flower.
At the fifth bridge the river runs free and bare of
trees for some distance, till a clump of trees in
the eye of the west cast their long shadows and
bring the play of the waters to an end.
God preserve my memory, and I can never be
poor I I am nearest to perfect happiness when I
look on scenes like these, and so long as I can recall
thera I shall have enough. I was half inclined to
go on and not wait for the sunset, for I had seen it
some nights ago ; but the colotirs and the peace
of the world held me to the bridge, where I
saw most exquisitely perfect scenes. I wish I
could paint this babbling river going into the arms
of the red-gold and shimmering west ! Could I
do so it must surely be called " Peace." I am
sitting by a piece of broken wall. Just in front
the stream runs round a grassy knoll, and about
thirty little white larabs, and a couple of black
ones, are gracefully cuddled up for the night. Only

THE CLOSE OF DAY 227
one is standing, and he has his chin resting on
another's head. Is he the sentinel and privileged
to lean a little ? Beyond the lambs the river is a
shimmer of gold, and many dancing little suns
are hovering over it, so that one cannot see clearly
what is of the earth and what no more than light
and colour.
The sun is now tipping a line of hills which turn
the river, and long bright-red beams are shot up
the stream. The clouds are violet, they are purple,
and now again they are gold. Many gold and silver-
rimmed clouds are appearing ; the foreground is
clear again, and the distance all ablaze. Washer
women show at intervals all down the stream.
There are many figures on the road following the
open green bank to one side, but all are raoving
slowly as if towards rest, and there is no noise.
Two yoke of fawn-coloured oxen cross the bridge.
They have immense head-dresses of lambskin,
with the wool drawn up like sugar-loaves ; they
pull their load with a peculiar lilting gait, and the
driver lilts with them. They raise a little dust
on the bridge and I get the smell of it, the only
link with earth and the toiling world. The stream
is all silver and violet. Another flock of sheep are
coming to drink, and cross the stream lower down ;
the clouds so filmy a while ago are now gathered
into solid mountains. The gold grows very soft,
almost a russet-brown, and the violets and purples
are fit for robes. The trees are beginning to look
sullen and solitary ; the washerwomen are putting

228 THE CRADLE OF THE CID
their garments into huge baskets and trudging
both banks towards rae and the town. The only
colour in the west is a broad burst of smoke-
stained flame ; all the sky is leaden-grey, every
leaf is still, the length of the river increases, and
it begins to have a voice as there is less to see.
The mountains of cloud are breaking, and the sky
above and beyond is a soft sea-green. Now it is
lead-colour, now purple, shot with gold. The
trees are frowning black patches where they shade
the river.
A distant flock of sheep are coming along a green
strip between the strearas, and there is a tinkling
of tuneful bells. Now there is raore dark cloud and
light colour-spaces in the west ; all the lines are
horizontal, and there is no raoveraent away there.
A cold blue-grey is hanging like a raisty pall be
tween the source of light and the material earth.
Faint lemon rays appear, greyness spreads, the
picture narrows on all sides, the flock of lambs are
huddling closer, and there is a complaining bleat
or two. The air is quite chilly ! There is nothing
more to see. It is night at the fifth bridge of
Burgos !
That night I was held to thoughts about the Cid,
for he was born here. Genius or greatness in any
form is but an accident, yet we like to associate
our heroes with splendid places, and surely no one
could desire a finer natal spot than that of Burgos.
One evening I found myself standing on the site
of the|,Cid's home. It is -a strip of green lawn

THE BIRTHPLACE OF THE CID 229
bounding a road just outside the town. A ceme
tery has advanced on the site, and judging from
the forra of the road one imagines that the ceme
tery embraces the actual spot of his birth. A low
monument and two obelisks stand on this green
strip and hold the legend in Castilian : —
" On this site stood a house
wherein was born in the year
1033, Rodrigo Diaz de Bihar —
Cid Campeador de Valencia,
dying there in 1099 and his
body translated to the Monas
tery of San Pedro de Cardena
near this city. This is to
record the services of the
heroic and brilliant son of
Burgos." Erected 1784.
Carlos III. King."
I stood here in the warm mellow light of a May
evening till I thrUled and found myself crying
and pulling at the weeds growing on the spot —
chiefly horehound, blind nettles, and low silver
thistles. I can account for this as I remember he
provided my first roraance. As a tiny boy I read
his " Chronicles," and though I have little doubt
he was an unforgiveable rascal, I am indebted to
him for many delightful thrills and adventures.
How long and yet how short and unvarying is
the age of man ! Children are playing round the
garden of the Cid just as in his time, and a hundred

230 THE CRADLE OF THE CID
yards away there are long fleshing-troughs and
doublet : leathers in the raaking, and men and boys
contriving rude garments and accoutrements but
slightly or not at all different to those of the Cid's day .
All the bridges are comparatively modern, but
the stream and the form and employments of the
land have not altered much during the past thou
sand years. So I ara happy to stray and moon
about, gathering pebbles from the river and wild
flowers in the meads or in the more distant fields.
Only in such situations raay we re-live a bit of our
youth. I felt rayself to be in corapany with the
Cid as a child. I gathered wild flowers and
imagined the world with him ; I clirabed to heights
of a few feet and surveyed the world ; only the
child remained to me, and I had no regrets or
fears that I might be foolish. So strongly was I
impressed by the natural beauty of Burgos that I
ignored its art and much of its story. The Cid and
the river were all in all. The place reeks of mellow
history, but that was not my concern ; I needed
no raore than the companionship of the Cid as an
innocent child.
He was married at the castle which crowns the
highest hill near the town, and our Eleanor Plan-
tagenet was married there also, and later, Welling
ton was twice repulsed. But these things are as
nothing compared with what may be summed up
as native charms. The bones of the Cid and his
wife are now preserved in a large chest in the
Town Hall, and there is also a terra-cotta bust of

BEAUTY AND STRENGTH 231
him in a straight beard and a high hooked nose.
He is garbed in a chain-mail cuirass under light
shoulder-plates of steel.
The first bar or authentic yard measure of
Castile is here, hence the word barra — or yard.
To many the cathedral of Burgos is the gem of
Spain, and I carae under its spell, but too often
cathedrals, galleries, and busy cities are fatiguing
rather than sources of sober happiness ; and there
is so much labour in pursuing those things which
are chronicled in the guide-books that I have lately
made it my business to ignore them altogether.
The hospital Del Rey and Las Huelgas are lovely,
the one a rest-house for pilgrims, and the other a
convent for nuns of noble families.
Every night I walked to the fifth bridge and saw
the river run on to the west, and the sinking sun
take charge of it — always a new and an inspiring
sight. The Burgalese, whilst fine-looking and healthy,
have somewhat irregular features, and though I
met its crowds at all hours, I saw but one beautiful
face. Both men and women lack the style and the
charm generally found in the townspeople of Spain,
but they are a very happy crowd, and there is
much freedom amongst the young folk. In
winter Burgos is very cold, and many of the houses
have glass sashes arranged over all their fronts as a
means of attracting the sun's heat. This gives a
staring and comraon appearance to sorae streets,
though raany buildings are quaint and beautiful.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE CITY IN THE FIELDS
ONE hardly likes to believe that money makes
friends, it is so brutal; yet often one must
give to the poor to bring out their best, and this is
generally seen in their gratitude and affection
when they discern they are noticed for themselves.
On leaving Burgos I gave a trifle to two servants,
and they almost erabraced me and followed me
to the last, their faces worth a pound a minute to
any human soul.
A rather churlish strip of land divides Burgos
frora Valladolid. Here I was welcomed by a
tramp riding behind two sturdy hounds attached
to a good-sized cart. The raan was nursing a child,
whilst a third dog and the tramp's wife were in
their proper places twenty yards behind.
Valladolid is more utilitarian than beautiful. It
occupies an almost dead level, though near to high
and churlish hills. Its most striking features are
its old houses and the church and gallery of San
Gregorio. Philip the Second, husband of our
Mary, was born here, and Columbus died here in
a street bearing his name. The house he occupied
was recently pulled down by nuns, who have
232

FADING CHARMS 233
stuck up a convent on the site. At a museum
are a large number of beautiful sculptures in wood
by Berruguete, also a fine lot of ornaments and
rare marbles, taken from old house fronts, patios,
and chambers. A house stands where Cervantes
lived and wrote part of Don Quixote.
The implements and utensils of this province
are most primitive. The metal- ware is of good
design, but the clay vessels are poor. The copper
puchero — or cooking - pitcher — so common in
many provinces, is rarely seen in the north-east ;
and in this central region it is entirely absent.
Here the name is given to an upright iron loop-
handled pot, of handsome mould, but incon
venient for lifting. In Zaragoza one sees pots
eighteen inches high, weighing fifteen pounds,
and with only one small side handle. The vessel
is virtually an immense drinking-mug. Nowadays
they are " founded," or cast, but in Vascongados
and Navarre they are met with in hand-wrought
iron. Germany is making faithful imitations of
them in cast- and sheet-iron and enaraelled ware,
and these are replacing the raore interesting native
articles. At Valladolid, where one crosses to the district
of Rioseco, are some beautifully-worked mural
stones, employed in paving the slope and forming
a boundary-wall of the river. These stones are
from old churches and houses ; for they reveal
medallions, armorial bearings, and inscriptions in
Latin and Spanish. The oldest discernible date

234 THE CITY IN THE FIELDS
is 1670 — less than two hundred and fifty years
ago ! Monuments and rubbish ! Here is rank
and fame, raortal vanity, and mortal hope ! A
sraall canal traverses this province, but water
carriage is unpopular, and the flood is employed
chiefly in irrigation.
A remarkable contrast is observable in the faces
of the town and country people. Throughout the
canal and river systems, also away on the dry, open
lands, the peasantry have plain, stolid, and unin
teresting faces ; whilst the town population of
Valladolid is distinctly handsome, and several
minor peculiarities are seen. The speech is low
and moderate in quantity, raen do not smoke to
any extent when in the presence of women, and
there is an unusual araount of freedom amongst
young people.
By the river-side are as many as three hundred
little wooden boxes arranged on legs standing in
the water ; these boxes are occupied by the
lavanderas — washerwomen — as the banks are un
safe. The woraen step out with their bundles of
linen, squat down and lave it in the running
stream. I sat for hours and heard no more than
an occasional remark. In the south and east there
would have been a deafening chorus of cries,
chants, and badinage, and my position would
have been untenable ; in Valladolid I was un
noticed. When boats are laid up on the river or
canal, the decks are covered with a thick coating
of damp and pulverous earth to prevent the spring-

TOWN GARDENS 235
ing and cracking of the wood — a simple and effec
tive plan worth imitating elsewhere.
Valladolid possesses two excellent public gar
dens in the " Campo Grande " and the " Magda-
lena"; they are in the form of natural woodlands
and shrubberies, and distinctly appropriate to the
needs of a town population. Moreover, they are
in the town and accessible. As a nation the
Spaniards' private gardens are confined to the rich,
anything like a cottage garden is seen only in the
extreme north-west ; but as municipal gardeners
or owners in common they display far more in
telligence than do the British ; not only do they
provide trees and shade, fountains, and an abund
ance of flowers, but seats and conveniences, which
draw the population together at all seasons of the
year. Of course, climate is an important factor,
and we observe much needful variety in the public
gardens of Spain.
But no raatter where, there is more to accom
modate, to satisfy, and create a feeling of posses
sion in a Spanish town garden than is usually felt
in any British public domain. Anxious to make
the most of local business, a kindly old man tells
me they have a fine lunatic asylum in Valladolid.
The town has sorae queer and interesting old
houses, in one of which I found a lodging. Enter
ing by the Carapillos, I dined in a room on the
Calvo, and slept on a plazuela — or little square.
This is explainable by the house having a roving
coraraission to get a look at the daylight wherever

236 THE CITY IN THE FIELDS
it could find an open space. About half a dozen
women kept this house, they were all old maids or
widows ; and instead of wearing out their lives in
solitary chambers, they rented a house of a dozen
rooms, and lived on those who were brave enough
to call. As waiting-raaids they habitually enjoy
the possession of pretty naraes. In Malaga she
was Philoraena ; at Burgos, Esperanza ; here she
was Candida. That was fortunate, for she was
very broad, she waddled, and had lost all her
front teeth, though she had a beautiful smile and
was just as kind as she looked. When I asked her
if she was of Valladolid, she gave me the only frown
I ever saw her wear as she said, "No. I am from
where the beauties come from — ^Zamora ! "
Valladolid can never be entirely free from dust
or mud, for the surrounding country, when dry,
is always getting into the air, and when it rains
the earth sticks like bird-lime. But I hope this
statement will do no harm to the population, for
they are a thrifty and earnest people, and have
worked wonders on the little good soil they com
mand. In Spain one never travels without soldiers, and
the bulk of them are third-class — or rather they
travel third. Frora Valladolid I set out for Medina
del Carapo in a cattle-truck sort of train, loaded
with young soldiers, and it is pleasing to write that
though we were raany hours together, not a rough
remark or an unkind action was detected. It might
easily have been otherwise, for we sat or were

MY FRIEND LANGTON 237
jammed about four deep ; and what with smoking,
eating, drinking, and the necessary perspiring and
spitting there were grounds for strife.
At Medina del Campo, a dust-laden old town in
the midst of a vast plain, I went to sleep in a lane
leading to the castle, and on waking found along
side me another tramp, by name Julius Langton !
This was a curious fish. He could speak several
languages, and was a fluent liar in aU. Still, he
was interesting. He had watched me leave the
little town, and finding me asleep had lain down
and waited patiently till I should awake to feed
hira. With the intuition of his class he divined my
nationality at once. His own story, in so far as
it could be relied on, was brief. His father was an
Englishman who had visited Portugal, and his
raother a Portuguese. As a waif he had gone to
sea, next traraped over raany lands, learning some
thing of each language he encountered. He was
quite harmless — a real tramp, too lazy to steal or
be in any way bad. With Langton I went on to
the ruined castle wherein Juana La Loca — Crazy
Jane — the wife of Philip La Belle was confined,
and where her mother, the great Isabel, died.
This castle remains an impressive ruin, and Lang
ton and I sat down to discuss it, and a bottle of
wine and some bread and cheese which I had
bought in the town. My tramp friend knew as
much local history as I wished ; and how vivid
it all seeraed as it dropped out of this unclassified
human waif. I can hear him now saying, in refer-

238 THE CITY IN THE FIELDS
ence to Juana, " They say she was this, and they
say she was that, but God do know and was it any
matter ! She have just one life and she die, and
then, true or no true, it not matter to her what
they say." The weather was scorching hot ; and
with our bottle of wine and cool shade we felt
equal to any kings or queens of the past. I am
always tempted to descant on the charms of a
tramp's life, because it is the only sort of existence
yielding irresponsible freedom ; but I had an
appointraent in Medina, so when I could bleed
Langton no more I bade him adios.
At early raorning this raarket-place is a rare
sight, hundreds of tilted carts and pack animals
holding all the raaterials which the population
require. So pronounced is the custom of buying
in the market-square, that few shops are seen, and
these but small and old-fashioned. At a stall in
the market-place a bright-eyed, dapper little
woman was offering tiny cheeses of goat's milk.
A countryman examined one carefully, tucked it
in his pocket, and put down a real. I thought the
cheese a bargain, and said to the little woman,
" I'll have one," and gave her a peseta, which is
four reals. She beamed and gave back two reals.
I remarked, " The price of the cheese is one real."
" Ah," said she with a winning smile, " but you
are a caballero." I enjoyed her audacity so much
as to laugh and say, " You are a little rogue," and
she, seeing she had beaten rae, curtseyed and
laughed out, " Ah, great senor mine, you are many

ANY GOD THERE? 239
times a caballero I " I do not complain. Such
incidents and compliraents are cheap at the price.
At Medina I passed an evening with twenty
ploughmen, all employed on the same estate, and
one of them put a question which interested, and
in some subtle way pleased me more than any
other inquiry in my hfe. We had been talking of
Australia, and its great natural wealth ; the sraall
ness of its population, and such simple facts as I
felt might interest them ; and when it came to
my saying in what direction Australia might lie,
and I pointed to our feet, it was more than they
could believe. But I went on, and as the wonder
grew, a stocky, sharp-eyed man of about thirty-
five, who had listened to hear of everything his
heart desired, said with tremendous hope in his
great eyes, " Is there a God there ? "
Think of it, if you can ! This is a text indeed !
"Is there a God there?" And in this instance I
may preach the sermon. My first thought was not
of what we might caU this man's ignorance, for
only the ignorant can pretend to a knowledge of
God. What charmed and baffled and held was the
absolute age and universality of the inquiry. Let
me describe the situation. It was near midnight,
and we had gone to see a string of twenty fine
mules fed for the last time before raorning. They
munched in a long shed which had an open front
to a yard, where were ploughs and other imple
raents on which we sat. A clear and nearly full
raoon rode above, and there was neither a cloud

240 THE CITY IN THE FIELDS
nor a star. The day had been sweltering hot, but
now it was cold, and every face showed alert and
concerned under the chilling moonlight. Cayetano,
one of the ploughmen, put the question, " Is there
a God there ? " My reply may stand for what it is
worth, for I said, " Different people have different
Gods, but your God is in all the world." He was
relieved and pleased at once, as were his com
panions, and the whole lot of them immediately
returned to the mundane ; what Australians lived
on ? How many meals a day ? Any wine and
tobacco there ? Very cold ? How much did a
donkey cost ? Regular work ? The reward of
labour ? Military service ? And, to omit nothing,
" What were the girls like ? and could they marry
if they wished to ? " I put dovt^n these things only
to make plain the source of the inquiry and the
limitations and aspirations of the man whence it
came. " Is there a God there ? " The words are
perfect, and in themselves attractive. The ties of
earth are many, and yet we are never held by, nor
do we live by, these. It is something more than
hope springing eternal, for no amount of gain and
possession can satisfy, and I was intensely inter
ested by the desire of that Spanish peasant.
No ! We need not go to primitive black people
for our beginnings in faith, for we are all at the
beginning. We inherit no more than a larger sheaf
of straws. Our philosophers they come, and they
vary, and with them our wonderment ; but our
helplessness, doubts, and fears remain fixed. In

FAITH AND HOPE 241
desperation we put questions to ourselves, and
then set about answering them in ways convenient
and agreeable to ourselves. We suffer in the hope
that we may come into greater prominence, get
nearer to the throne of grace, the peace of heaven,
and the blessings of God.
Always blessings ! Always some high power
who will have compassion on us, recognise and re
ward us in ways surpassing any we may get here
below. Below I We get much out of that word.
We are far — far down in the depths of the world,
and must climb for every good thing. Kings are
on thrones ; God is on high ; heaven is beyond
the distant crown of stars ; every bed is possibly
a last sleeping-place, and a cold sheet our coffin-
lid. Most of us have come to dislike white and
odorous flowers, they take us into deathly com
pany ; we reflect on the state of those who have
gone, and ponder the space beyond our view and
our ken, and we say in all moods save that of
gladness, " Is there a God there ? " The question
is fundamental ; it grew up with human reason,
and can never be supplanted or surpassed.
No preacher can expound the law, for no man
knoweth it. Fear is the mother of reason, and
faith is reason's daughter. Our fears and our
wants have made us, and our indulgences have
left us more than ever undone. So with all we
have aspired to know, we are no nearer to con
vincing ourselves of a certain and safe asylum.
Cayetanos' priest has a faith and knowledge cans-

242 THE CITY IN THE FIELDS
ing him to kneel and wear black robes, and avoid
as raany ills and gather as many comforts as he
can, but in his heart he knows he is a deceiver and
a sham ; so that, with all his ignorance, Cayetano is
the better raan, in that he asks with more honesty
and hope, " Is there a God there ? "

CHAPTER XIX
A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA
I MUST have a dig on paper at Spanish bread,
for in this part of the country I cannot get
my knife into it in any other way. One can afford
to praise it for being pure, well worked, thoroughly
cooked, and digestible once it is broken up ; but
the loaves are so thin, baked so slowly, and to
such a degree of hardness that they would serve
for roofing-tiles. And the shapes and sizes ! They
are beyond count. Once I decided to make
sketches of the loaves of each province, but soon
found it impossible, for the baker invents new
shapes for every batch.
One advantage in writing of Spanish loaves is,
I cannot possibly go wrong in any description of
them ; for taking a lump of dough, from two
ounces to two pounds, there is not a baker in
western Spain who does not produce a new shape
and surface pattern every day of his life ; and,
more remarkable still, each loaf has a definite and
attractive shape. One raorning I stood before a
shop and counted over thirty shapes in one and
two-pound loaves, each flat and platter-like and
stamped with its weight, maker's name, parish,
243

244 A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA
and hall-raark of the local authorities. A beauti
fully clear die had been used, and the letters and
surrounding ornaraentation stood up as if cut in
dull brass, for the tops of the loaves have that
colour. The next day thirty new shapes appeared.
In Spain the baker's art raust consist in infinite
fertility of design.
I bear a grudge against Spanish bread, since I
snapped five excellent teeth in as many months.
I was a tramp during those raonths ; but paying
my way I am no better off, in fact worse off, for
it is a dainty compliraent to give one the most
snappy piece of bread. Foreigners often ask what
kind of macaroni they are eating — strips of bread,
tough, slippery, and delicious, and for once in the
proper place — in the soup. At a market stall in
Salamanca, a tired-looking woraan bawled, " Aqui
el raajor pan en el mundo " — Here is the best
bread in the world. I paused to watch her ; and
she, brightening at the prospect of a sale, held up
a loaf and smiled. I shook my head, and she let
the bread fall wearily with, " The gentleman
doesn't eat bread ! "
At Salamanca I lodged with one Paul. I might
as easily have shared the house of one Simon a
tanner, for Salamanca has no end of fleshers,
curriers, and leather dressers, and their estabhsh-
ments are included in the tiniest of domestic
habitations. A street by the Tormes is made up
of cottages, each with a small yard and pit or two,
large enough to hold a few skins and keep a man

A SCHOOL FOR LAGGARDS 245
occupied. At every door is a heap of spent or new
tan, forraing an everlasting playground for the
children. The street reeks of tan and lime, but
these are wholesome and welcome odours, for the
general surroundings are very dirty.
Parents not knowing what to do with their
children should send them to Salamanca, for here
is a college naraed " The Providential " ; here also
is an attractive retreat for any friends of Bacchus,
for in the Calle Prior is an inn naraed " El
Rapido." At a second-hand shop I asked the woman how
many years she had owned a jug. " Go along with
your years," said she. " How many centuries
have I had it, and there's a fault in my memory
how many."
Most of the Salamanca colleges are in ruins,
though built as late as the seventeenth century,
and their collapse is not due to the employment
of weak stone, but to shoddy and unprincipled
methods of building. The walls are run up of
rubble and mud concrete, with a mere facing of
sandstone, limestone, or granite.
Cold as is this region the whole population gets
up with the sun, and I imagine this custom is
bred out of the chilliness of the bed. Rich, poor,
and middle-class are alike up and about soon after
daybreak. The marketing is done very early, for
there is a deep-rooted belief araong the stall
holders that it is fatal to refuse the first offer of
the day, hence the thrifty housewife goes or sends

246 A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA
to market early, that she raay make a good bar
gain. In the south and east many things are
bought from hawkers at the door, but in other
provinces every woraan has it a part of her faith
to attend the morning market. They are good
judges and never shy of driving a bargain. The
market-baskets of Salamanca are enormous affairs,
holding up to two bushels ; and some have little
wicker cribs inside thera to protect eggs, soft fruit,
or such things as might be crushed or spoilt.
The housework in any part of Spain is not one-
tenth of that which is found necessary in England.
First of all there are no fires or fireplaces, little or
no furniture beyond what is necessary, no orna
ments, carpets or rugs, and a general indifference
to dust. Floors and stairs are of stone, brick,
marble or tiles ; there is no scrubbing of anything
beyond kitchen utensils, and nothing can possibly
be out of place and call for rearranging. A maid
does all she finds necessary to one or two rooms
in an average of about three minutes. Most atten
tion is paid to the sweeping of the floors, and in
whitewashing, for wherever the Moorish influence
has spread this practice amounts to a passion. A
dog or donkey cannot enter the house, or even
pass up the street, without the women-folk seizing
the whitewash brush and flying to paint out any
spots or signs of untidiness left by the intruder.
Windows are few, very small, and seldom cleaned ;
in many towns there is practically no glass, for
shutters and the reja — iron guard — are most com-

THE FEAST OF TAJARES 247
mon. The only house in which I thought there
was enough light was at a blind asylum at
Tividavo !
From a knoll at Salamanca one can see nearly
fifty miles north and west — one vast garden of
rolling downs, composed of fairly good and per
manent soil. This region has for centuries carried
wheat, barley, and rye, and is the ancient granary
of Europe.
The feast of Taj ares — a village near Salamanca —
is worth visiting for the curious types of humanity
to be seen there. The province claims a type named
" The Charro," the men and women who preserve
the oldest provincial dress. It is a very elaborate
costume, the skirts of the women in the form
of circular aprons, and the materials and colours
vary much. The stockings are most beautifully
hand-worked linen-thread, or silk, but always
white ; the fancy-work is made of jewels, lace
medallions, and flowers, and almost entirely sur
rounded with little silver and gold sequins. A
great many jewels and rings are worn, and the
head-dress is an embroidered handkerchief (not a
mantilla) more than a yard square. The Sala-
mantinas claira that this dress suits every type of
face and figure ; it is too expensive for everyday
use, and is sported only on festive occasions, but
the raen's, being raore practical, is in general use
to-day. Taj ares is the home of " Our Lady of Health."
She dispenses that blessing on the fifth of June.

248 A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA
The road to Taj ares showed thousands of country
folk, raounted and on foot ; but not one hat or
bonnet in all the crowd. Handkerchiefs, chiefly
black, but sorae coloured and tied in the simplest
fashion, were worn over the head by most elderly
women ; but the majority were bareheaded, ex
cepting that they were protected by fine crops of
well-dressed hair. Most of those on foot carried
yard-long candles. Every horse and mule on the
road bore two or more people — a man and his
wife and their babe ; mother and daughter ; sister
and brother ; or father and daughter sharing the
same mount. It is surprising how cleverly the
hind seat sticks on to the bare sloping rump of the
jog-trot animal. The donkey usually carries but
one person, excepting mothers with their nurslings,
or three or four children tied pannier-fashion and
carried in the alfora — or pannier-bags — on the
donkey's back.
At this feast several men dressed in the " charro"
costume furnished no end of delight to the crowd
by their playing and tom-toraing of rude dance
music. Each player had a large wooden whistle
with a broad mouthpiece and three little key
holes at the opposite end, so that he held and
played with one hand ; with the other he cleverly
beat a deep side-drum and strutted about with as
much display of pride as a Scotch piper. The
music and the tune is like one hears from the native
peoples of north Africa, something between a drum,
a cymbal, and a tambourine led by a piping reed.

A FAIR AND MERRY TIME 249
This dancing on the west of Spain is evidently
very old, and one has only to watch the performers
and the merriment to see the beginnings in civilisa
tion. The couples stand up flicking their fingers,
and flit about before each other like so many dazed
May-flies ; one cannot say they do more, for they
neither speak nor smile ; and there is another sign
of age in this dance as the man always leads, the
woman looking at his feet and imitating his move
ments as best she can, with the result that she is
always a little behind time.
All classes are drawn to seek health at the feast
of Taj ares, but the crowd is made up chiefly from
the small towns and pueblos within a day or two's
journey. Some shepherds and goatherds were here
in complete rigs of leather, wool on the skin for
jackets, leather breeches laced at the side, leather
caps and slippers — ^hat to heels, all self-made
garments from the skins and coats of their flocks.
Beggars do well at all feasts, for no matter who
the patron saint may be he must open the heart.
Hence there is no end of vagrants, whose rags and
neglected frames are often repellent. The most
primitive type of woman here is very smaU and
mean of feature. She is in no way bad or vulgar
in appearance, but almost monkey-like in expres
sion. The faces are dark brown, and much of the
hair is brown also, black being the least common.
The better class of countryman is a fine type with
extremely open and frank manners.
I came here for information, and, if possible.

2SO A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA
to gather wisdom, but though the schools are
disappointing, there is something to be gained
frora ray temporary lodging. I have one Rosario
for cook and waiting - maid, and after two days
or less she is madly jealous of another servant,
the mistress of the house, and sorae women who
live on the same floor. Their room is a secret
place, and it ought to be, for it can hardly
possess windows, though goodness knows where
they cannot put them in Spain. I have seen
them in floors, and have been asked to believe
I could get sufficient light out of a looking-glass,
and though one may do so at times, " the sun's
the thing," as Shakespeare should have said
— and would have had he known me. Anyhow —
and it is so built — this house is about ten rooms
and cribs deep, measuring it backwards, and the
back is another man's wall, and he is mean, and
will not let in any light without payment. I have
the first room, whence the light comes. The rooms
off the passage behind me have doors with a bit of
glass in them, but mine is a solid door, and so I
shut out all that may be called light. I am in
geniously told to close my window and open the
door as " more wholesome," but in this case I am
selfish, stern, and silent.
But I began with Rosario's jealousy. It is most
pronounced, and if I don't mind she will " drop "
me, and then I may go hang for ray tea, shaving-
water and such other luxuries as she alone can
provide. She asked rae if I were " free," and of

THE WAY OF A WIDOW 251
course I said Yes ! So was she ! She has been a
a widow for two years. It might easily have been
twenty-two, for she bears no trace of having loved
and lost. In brief, she proposed to me in half a
dozen ways, and I had been there but forty hours !
The other woman told her I had the " retrato "
of a beautiful lady in my room, and up Rosario
came to know the meaning of it. I had forbidden
the pair of them to touch or even come near my
writing-table, so Rosario stood off and affected a
curious yet very compliraentary laugh at the por
trait. I went on writing, and said, as if shaping a
word for the paper, " sister," and she, imitating
my voice to a nicety, " Ya lo creo ! " (You'd better
believe it !) She is a good sort, and truly human,
so I could not be angry or annoyed. I humoured
her and said the lady was a dear friend, and some
how Rosario was pacified, but I know she said in
her heart — as all women do — " It can never be the
same again ! "
As I wrote, the second woman came to square
my room. She put both elbows on the table beside
me, leaned over, picked up the portrait, and said
scornfully, " What is this ? " I answered her as
Rosario — a friend. " Your no via " (sweetheart),
said she with a challenge. I laughed, but said
nothing, and she went on, " You are very kind to
carry your friend round the world in a sack " —
for so she phrases my bag and baggage. I say
it is my custom, and she caps it by saying it is a
custora of all the world.

252 A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA
This Salamanca crib is a corker in the matter of
distance from the world if one wishes to get there
in a hurry. If there were a fire one need not
hesitate to drop, for it is barely twenty-five feet
to the street, but to walk along and round and
down a bit and up a bit, and round again, and then
back and then down and then up two steps and
then down a flight, and then corkscrew somewhere,
and then along — but which way I don't know —
and then a glimpse of light and a smell of the street,
and then back an exasperatingly long way and
into utter darkness again, and then turn and go
down four steps, and then into a long passage with
a peep-hole at the end, and I walk towards it
and discover a piece of glass in a door which opens
like a charm if I pull it very hard, and lo, here is
daylight, and I am in the street !
Now this is no exaggeration, but a description
of the puzzle-house I am lodged in in El Corrillo,
Salamanca. Any one doubting this narrative
had better come and see for himself. One has to
write " himself," because women do not travel
alone in Spain — or at least, not for long, and
with all the Rosarios it is a miracle that any
men do.
I used to wonder why puzzle-houses were built,
but I now conclude it was because the builders
grew puzzled over the work and struggled out of
the affair as best they could. Then, in Spain,
there is the fixed habit of willing parts of houses to
different members of the family, and each section

THE SWEETS OF LOVE 253
doing its best to be independent of and walling
off the other. As I have pointed out earlier,
my little friend near Malaga has half a kitchen
and all the fireplace. Her jealous sister-in-law
will not use the fireplace, but she owns the
whole of the doorway. My friend Trinidad is
beautifully clean in her domestic habits, but the
sister-in-law never sweeps her share of the floor
space. On the other hand, she uses her share for a
fowl-pen, and the " pen " is plural — a number of
portable cages, and they nearly always bar the
door. Trinidad asked me, in all seriousness, if I
thought her relative who so willed things could
ever get out of purgatory, and if so, would he be
sent upwards or downwards ?
I pointed downwards, and Trinny smiled to
wards heaven.
Two exceedingly neat and good-looking sisters
occupy a big room at the back, close under the
eaves of this house, and one of them has a lover.
This poor wretch has to ask permission to go
through a house at the back of ours, in another
street, then he has to climb through a shed sky
light, cross two or three rickety roofs, and at last
perch on a httle sentry-box building beside which
flows a malodorous drain, and there he divides
his time between balancing himself, holding his
nose, and sighing love's old song to the stars and
the lady above.
I am told, for, of course, I do not know, that
girls living three or four stories high have a hard

254 A STUDENT IN SALAMANCA
chance of getting and holding a lover, but I inchne
to think that even in their case the difficulties of
meeting will not prove insurmountable.
Where the Spanish girl can have no window or
screened door near the ground, or within reach of
the lover's eye or ear, her parents will usually ask
for a little light to be let in on the subject in the
shape of a " speak and peep " hole in the waU or
in the door on a landing or stairway. I have never
seen a maiden peeping out of the holes in the walls,
which are made to serve for chimneys, but the
peculiar position and size of these holes makes one
half suspect they are made to assist love at a
pinch. Rosario is intensely anxious to serve, befriend,
and interest me. She is short and plump, and has
alert black eyes, which twinkle when they catch
mine, and I see her brain working to divine what
would be an attractive topic with which to regale
rae. Soraetiraes I see she is in trouble with herself,
and then I try to help her. One day I told her of
what I had seen during a country walk, and it was
plain as day she was raaking a mental pilgrimage
during every step of the way. Then I said, " Oh,
where is the battlefield ? " and her face became a
poem of pure delight, for she was able to instruct
me I
She turned round two or three times in order to
get up the necessary steam, then, pointing with
two outstretched hands and her head thrown back,
she almost laughed out. " It's here ! — here ! —

LEAVETAKING 255
right through the wall ! " "Go along with you ;
it was not as far in the town as this that the actual
battle was fought ! " " Yes, yes ! " she exclairaed
in frantic joy, "it's here ; the sarae ! " " But
what battle do you mean, then ? " " Los gallos "
(the cockpit !), which was really next door, though
I had been inquiring for the site of the battle of
Salamanca ! I was booked to leave at four o'clock
on a raw raorning, but Rosario sat fast, like a
faithful spaniel, on one of the many stairs, and
there shivered till it was time to call me.
I offered her a little money present, which she
took shyly, and then, armed for a final effort, she
said, " What do you want to leave me for ? Good
bye, and for six months ! Mind ! No more ! "

CHAPTER XX
THE PLEASURES OF THE WEST
I HAD not been well at Salamanca, and my in
disposition brought me no end of friends.
They proved the kindest-hearted crowd, and,
although a stranger, I was treated with something
like affection. I have no wish to forget Rosario's
dark eyes ever looking up and asking what she
could do in the way of service. Marianna was
equally kind, and I believe she will live long from
the health-giving effect of telling — as I heard her
about ten times a day — that she had danced with
an English caballero on the kitchen floor !
After all, I found the battlefield of Salamanca,
for I journeyed to Arapiles, and saw the two ridges
occupied by the alhes when the fight ended. A
column on the highest ground where the Duke was
hit by a spent bullet commemorates the battle.
In a certain book, Thomiere, who led the French,
gets killed off early in the day and badly wounded
at the close ! Thomiere would excuse the error
and be glad to see it that way.
South of Salamanca the country runs poor till
one reaches the Sierras de Grados. These moun
tains rise to over eight thousand feet, and carry
256

A TURNER PICTURE 257
heavy snow with here and there steep faces of rock,
and gorges black as night from the cold sweat of
the snows thawing on the sunlit heights. I met
one little wolf here, and he was by far the raost
tiraid of us, for he scurried up a long, bare slope,
where, out of range, he crouched and surveyed his
enemy. After climbing to a cold and windy
height a train bore me through a tunnel and out
on the southern side of the mountains, where all
was in entire contrast to the bleak and sterile
hills and wild plains of the north. All the south
was forested with ash and oak, sweet chestnuts,
walnuts, and giant cherry trees in full fruit and
covered with leaves of great size and most delicate
green ; and looking down were hedged and walled
fields, peasants garnering hay, and villages of red
and white perched on crags and tucked away in
blue hollows among the hills. And further on
were valleys streaked with streams ; gay orchards,
and little plots of ripening grain ; and far away
were glinting rivers and mills and grey towns peer
ing through heated mist and arcs of rainbow
light ; and to one side of the world were gathering
clouds, and the threat of storm, all exactly as in
a Turner picture. At the height whence I moved
the air was pure and invigorating, but the scene
was so vast and strong, and good, and all so lovely
that it produced a real pain of heart. It took
fully two hours to descend to the hot, dry plains
towards Placencia, and over all the way I was
treated to the most beautiful natural scenery and

258 THE PLEASURES OF THE WEST
charming of peasant homes and employments.
The people are of medium size, clean and intelh
gent ; a true mountain type. The Portugal oak
grows wild in this region, and the pink — smaU,
but truly pink in colour — ^is so prolific as to smother
the rocks on which it grows. The muUeins are
tall, branchy, and more decorative than those of
northern countries ; the colour, too, is better — a
deep orange to a rich sulphur-yellow, and the
flowers extra large.
The main traverse line of these mountains,
known as Tras de Sierra, is broidered with tiny
lane-like fields, winding between the rocks and
gorges, supplied with rich red soil from the heights
above. The haystacks are built round poles stuck
in the ground in the corners of the hedged and
walled enclosures. From the centre pole others
hang round like the ribs of an umbrella, and by
their weight keep the stack proof against rain and
wind. A bunch of green oak boughs, which has for
a penny or more been blessed by the priest, is tied
on the top to keep off the evil eye and the wrath
of God.
No land offers more complete contrasts than
Spain. This region is not merely beautiful, but in
an agricultural sense rich and inexhaustible, and
all its people busy and content, yet fifty mUes
south, on the low, hot plains of clay, and the
shingle and sand-drifts of ancient rivers, the people
are hopelessly poor and the villages pictures of
abject misery.

CLEAN CASCERES 259
Casceres was my objective, and for no more
definable reason than that it was the birthplace of
Dona Maria, the great lady with whom I shared a
summer in the valley. Round Casceres the country
has a starved and churlish look, but it contains
some exceUent grain lands, is famed for the pigs
and bacon it 5delds, and has grown into prominence
for its phosphate and lime deposits. Here, again,
one sees the widest contrast in the types of people
and their habitations. The country-folk are small,
but beautifully forraed, quiet, and gracious ; but
there is a group at Ourdes who are known as
savages, as they live without love or licence, and
have an unenviable reputation for thieving and
cunning. Casceres rarables over two or three gentle hills
and hollows, and is iramaculately clean. History
sayeth that several hundred years ago Estrama-
dura was almost depopulated by a plague. As
much may be said of every city and region of
ancient renown. But plague or no plague, Cas
ceres is to-day clean enough to deserve to escape
every form of contagion, for there is not a dirty
street, house, individual, or garment. At first I
thought they had heard I was coming, and fur
bished up the fronts, feeling sure that the crowds
would prevent ray seeing the backs ; but no — for
the houses have no backs, all sides butting on to
streets or patios which are pictures, clean and
pleasing. The town is a veritable rauseum of old stones.

26o THE PLEASURES OF THE WEST
and the stones are of the everlasting kind — ^hard,
grey, mica-spangled granite — and where they have
been leaned against, rubbed against, and blown
against, and sun-scorched, and trodden under foot
for a round four hundred years they have not
lost the raarks of the chiselling and hammering
they received from the hands which wrought
them for the building and paving of this old place.
Judged from any standpoint this is a rare spot,
and one sees how much depends on the raw
material available for the building of towns.
I used to blame the Spaniards and other southern
people for raaking bad bricks, but now I know that
it is largely a question of fuel. They can make the
finest of tiles, because their thinness admits of
proper baking, and where they have the fuel they
make good bricks ; but the mere trash of the vine
yards, olive-groves, and brush-covered hUls holds
not the heat necessary to raake heavy and hard
bricks in all regions ; this is why so raany houses
and towns look ramshackle and ruinous.
Casceres holds fuel and clay which provide
beautiful terra-cotta, coarse kinds of pottery, and
very hard bricks ; but with wealth at command,
granite was used to fashion this city, which, built
four to five hundred years ago, may stand another
thousand and show no more than a dignified age.
The Moors built here, but their soft brick and con
crete and adobe erections were mere trash beside
the grand old houses of their conquerors. Granite
Casceres dates frora the discovery of America.

LOVELY WOMEN 261
Pissaro and Cortes were both of this region, and
nearly aU the fine old houses were reared by
pioneer families who returned wealth-laden to this
part of Spain. The Moors left a fine feature in the
little pepper-box towers, and the Spaniards have
improved on these by converting them into chim
neys, so that they are the most distinctive and
pleasing feature of the old houses.
The woraen of Casceres have remarkably even
features, and some are perfectly lovely. Three
distinct groups are seen, ladies, middle-class, and
peasants, and not the slightest sign on the part
of those below imitating the dress and airs of
those above. The general appearance is Andalu
sian, but shorn of its astuteness and caution ; the
walk is firmer, owing to a more invigorating cli
mate, and the eyes and hair are not black, flashing,
or melting in the semi-theatrical way of the south
east. There is a good deal of freedom given to
women, and no cynical replies are made to honest
remarks — a pronounced and unpleasant habit of
Levantine Spain, where women desire compli
ments, but doubt their sincerity. Hence their
language and attitude often border on the offen
sive where one feels one has spoken in good faith.
In Casceres is no sign of business ; no one seems
to desire more of anything. As a community it
is self-contained, and there is no competition
or concern for the outside world. The children
have intelligent and happy faces, and the little
crowd which fills the main street and the plaza in

262 THE PLEASURES OF THE WEST
the evening and far into the night are so attrac
tive in all ways as to be worth a pilgrimage to see.
Then one is helped by things absent — there is such
complete rest, such proof of the means to live with
out strife and desperate energy. In the poorer
parts the street scenes are quite Eastern, for the
walls carry devices in palm branches and dragons,
and the black hand, which keeps off the evil eye,
is drawn in charcoal on the whitewashed walls.
Then the women carry everything on their heads ;
pitchers, baskets, bundles of wood, washing, mar
ket produce, poultry and hawkers' wares of all
kinds are carried aloft. The favourite drinking-
water is drawn from a fountain to one side of the
town, and at all hours a stream of women and girls
go to and fro with iraraense pitchers cleverly
balanced on the side, when erapty, and borne
erect on the head when full. The pitcher borne
aloft improves the carriage of the head and body.
Grace of moveraent left the English when they left
off wearing the sword. So long as there was a
weapon to take hold of, an eneray was possible,
and some occasion for alertness, a fine stride and
set face. The clanking and the care of the weapon
imposed certain movements, all graceful and in
dicative of courage and strength. Neither the
staff, stick, nor umbrella have succeeded in main
taining a good carriage.
I verily believe that man looks his best when
conscious that he has genuine enemies and a
weapon about him.

WATER-CARRIERS' WALK 263
The pitcher-pad is a heavy ring of black, red and
yellow flannel plaited to produce a square pattern.
A loose loop hangs from this over the neck of
the wearer, and it forms a distinctive head-dress,
many going about the house in seeming uncon
sciousness that they are so adorned. The loop is
brightened by two or three yellow rosettes, raaking
it as ranch of an ornaraent as a convenience. The
hair of these water-carriers is all done alike, drawn
straight back and coUed high as a wisp that it may
act as a support for the ring and the pitcher. The
local ear-rings are of gold and Moorish in design,
though the people say that they passed into Spain
from the neighbouring country of Portugal.
Every girl's ambition is to earn a pair of these huge
ear-rings ; they cost ten duros, or nearly two
pounds, and lace-making is the most certain means
of acquiring the money. Many women and girls
go bare-footed ; one elderly woman said she had
never worn foot-gear; consequently the feet are
large, but all have very graceful figures.
I had expected Casceres to furnish some inter
esting interiors in the way of fittings and utensils,
but its primitive character attracted the northern
curiosity buyer, and he has done his work well.
Every house and shop has been deprived of all
light and transportable materials, and refitted
with stuff made in Germany, America, or else
where outside Spain. Excepting food-stuffs, al
most everything found in the houses and the shops
hails from abroad. The dress of the well-to-do is

264 THE PLEASURES OF THE WEST
a raixture of English, French, and German, with a
tang frora Madrid, and a braiding frora Morocco ;
thus Casceres -is a strange combination of things
new and old, but it possesses the charm of quiet
born of a genuine indifference to outside concerns.
An irapressive shrine is found at the Virgin del
Monte ; a series of granite crosses mark the way,
and a little church is built out on a ledge of rock.
There is also a rough amphitheatre in the open
air, and a wrought-iron pulpit, whence the canon
of Casceres preaches a sermon at the feast of the
Virgin in April.
The people of Casceres impress one as unusually
good-natured. It does one good not to feel obliged
to die with a poor opinion of human nature. At
Casceres, because the cochero told me so to do,
I beat down the posadero fifty cents a day, and he
retaliated by placing on my plate food of far
higher value than the money I was paying him !
Then they gave rae the best room in the house and
got in a boy specially to look after me. I own to
hating the boy; he was good-looking, clean, but
all too attentive, too beastly kind ! He called me
" Little gentleman," and not infrequently " Poor
httle fellow."
I was not very well, and taking heavy doses of
quinine to keep off a cold, but I felt more afraid
of the fever which raged under the patronage of
this boy. The hostess was exceedingly kind, and
a good cook. She had a baby two raonths old, and a
little girl of three or four, and when I realised that

A SON OF STOUT CORTES 265
I was little less than a parasite in the house I went
forth and bought shoes and cap for the baby, and
sweets and a doll for the little girl. There was
nothing grasping about mine host and his wife ;
but the boy seemed to scent the Bank of England
in me, and he never failed to point out the con
trast between his own cotton garraents and raine,
which were of wool. Like Maria, he found fault
with me, or rather with my shabby clothes — ^he
told me that his figure would set off any clothes of
mine, and he would do his best to preserve my
memory after I had left Casceres. This would be
an idle tale, save that he told it in a way that was
at once exasperating and irresistible. Every time
he put a plate before me he would, with his fingers,
sample its contents as a proof of its genuineness.
In some circumstances I would have cleared hira
out, plate and all ; but I confess to falling under
his spell. He had an audacity that was for once
good to see. He would put his arms round my
shoulders and hug rae, telling rae I would never
grow fat unless I took his advice. As the raeal
drew to an end he would fetch his own plate from
the kitchen and, sitting opposite, show me by
speech, gesture, and genuine action how to put
away a square meal. Towards the end of my stay
I grew to dislike him cordially, and yet I felt he
was good at heart, so I surprised myself into
giving him the clothes which he had set his heart
upon.

CHAPTER XXI
A PILGRIM'S DOLE
AFTER wandering over Portugal I went on to
1- Galicia, entering Spain where the Minho
forras the boundary between the two countries.
An estuary runs inland for about twenty miles
before the river assumes its fresh-water character,
and the scenes around this estuary are of great
beauty. Much of the land runs up into high
natural towers of rock, and some of these are
castle- and fort-crowned. In the more generous
lowlands are handsome private houses, and do
mains and comfortable farmsteads by the hundred
peep out from among woods of deep green.
Where the country is more open the grape-vine
clambers, or there is corn or meadow land. Thou
sands of cots, red and white, are dotted over an
immense sloping area, so that it appears to be
under a sumraer snowstorra. Here and there are
little towns and villages, and about them are
raore fields and woods. Roads and lanes wind
temptingly across the hills, and man is every
where busy among the crops. On the wide watery
plain, ships are gliding or lying idle in the little
bays ; and out towards the west some craft have
266

A SUMMER DAY 267
their sails set and are flying with golden wings
in the face of the sun. Many little black and sun-
warped boats lie in the shadows by the shore.
There are jetties, ferries, bridges, fishing- villages,
and near to each a patchwork ot cultivated land
and glistening lines where the crops are receiving
irrigation water. All the unfilled land is covered
with flowers, and there is a hum of bees and flies,
all of which proclaim it summer-time. And,
should we doubt the fact, there are many tired
husbandmen and women, and innumerable don
keys, mules, goats, and sheep enjoying rest in
quiet shade.
One needs no more than time to see these things
and then to say, " Life is good." So after a day
spent in complete idleness at the mouth of the
Minho, I went on to Tuy, where the scenery was
possibly more lovely.
From Tuy to Redondela, which is near Vigo,
the road makes faint with too much sweet ; no
mounts and hills, trees, and floods have ever com
bined to make a more perfect natural garden.
The highest country is bare — aU the soil washed
into the vales, where boulders project above tall
trees, and yet for some reason they look no more
than pebbles. The people put their houses along
side these enormous water-worn stones, and often
paint and whitewash them in parts till one has
to look carefully to make sure which is the boulder
and which the house. Then they train vines over
the house and over the boulder too ; and either

268 A PILGRIM'S DOLE
paint or put wood or stone crosses on the houses
and on the boulders too ; also, in growing their
trees and vines and raaize they produce schemes
in colour and form of which the boulders are the
essence ; and so we get a series of pictures
which probably have no equal of their kind in
Europe. These Galegans employ the same materials as
the Japanese, and are stone- worshippers. The-
green lakes of maize and rice rising out of the
sludge of the vales are also of the East. Above
them are terraced fields and quaint wooden houses
embowered in vines, wistaria, and honeysuckle,
all rank but splendid. Water is heard at times,
but seldom seen, for it is so well guarded and kept
to use that it flows alraost everywhere under dense
vegetation ; but all is so green, so jubilant and
tense with life, one wants no raore. It is the
greenest of green worlds. The thrift of the pea
sants is so pronounced, they provide no yards or
open spaces near their houses and arrange their
stacks of corn round high poles ; and towards the
end of suramer the stacks are covered with vines,
so that there is not an inch of exposed and unused
space. One may go through scores of villages and
little towns, and see thousands of isolated cottages
and all their inhabitants toiling amid this wealth
of green.
Redondela is a paradise of a town when seen
from a high bridge which spans a ravine. It is
broken into sections by the inroads of the sea and

THE BLESSED GIFT OF TEARS 269
the outpourings of the torrents from the local
mountains. From the high bridge one looks down
on castles and crags, lines of cottages, and tiny
islands which appear as slumbering mammoths in
the land-locked bays. Then there are streaks of
river water, salt reaches and coves, and, at low
tide, marshes with hurrying and draining streams
without number. I came down a hill road to see
all this in a flash ; and as I looked, the variety and
the glory grew, until I was almost sick at heart ;
and, as a short way out of the difficulty, I cried,
and then was happy, and began to see more, and
wonder more, and to take deep breaths. I felt
there could be nothing in the world worth grieving
about, for I stood in the presence of the beautiful
and the best. Involuntarily I said aloud, " I can
make a home here," and it is well if we make such
utterances at times, for nothing can be more com
forting than to feel safe and at home. It was
two hours to nightfall, and I went on by the old
town and the streams, crossing these by high
bridges all bathed in a raellow and joyous light ;
and just as the sun sank behind deep purple hills
I arrived at — Arcade ! Accidental or iraplied it is
well-naraed — a little town by river and seashore,
with a long, finely arched bridge spanning the
inlet by which it rests — a grey rookery on a steep
hill-side. Far above rises a mount supporting a
cross, some towering cypress and white stones to
mark the pilgrim's way. Women shrimpers were
wading to their waists in the salt water of the

270 A PILGRIM'S DOLE
narrow streams, all anxious to get home to the
bosom of their great mother before the night
should come. This evening revealed a truly
golden west ; whilst a band of purple lay across a
range of southern hills.
And so from one glory to another I passed till
I reached Pontevedra, which, if not exactly the
horae of the gods, is an attractive spot for a travel-
tired, hungry raan. Surely, the little unsought
things provide the great comforts in life. Ponte
vedra water makes one's skin feel like silk — with
little or no soap any dirt falls away, and the body
is swathed in a strange sraooth exhilaration. I
never laved, towelled, and combed my hair with
such downright pleasure. At first I attributed this
to the relief of a long and crowded day ; but no !
raorn, noon, and night, the water was a luxury ;
and on paying a second visit the charm seemed
greater than before. The water is conducted
in clay pipes from a spring in the hills. All
metal conduits destroy the pure freshness of
water. This town has a population of nine thousand,
and though it is old-fashioned and quiet it pro
vides more solid entertainment than most British
communities with ten times the number of people.
As usual there are several clubs and public cafes
where good music may be heard the year round,
and the price tuppence-ha'penny I Here is a pro
gramme : —

A LATE DINNER 271
CAFE MENDEZ— NUNEZ
PROGRAMA
Para Hoy 16 De Julio De 1909

r. Cuando el Amor Muere. — Wals.
2. Paragraph III. — Sinfonia.
3. Pagliacci. — ^Fantasia.
4. Una nit de Albaes.
5. Marcha Larenna.
The discomforts associated with Spanish travel
are due chiefly to the constant changing of the
meal hours, the food, and the water. At Ponte
vedra, breakfast is supposed to be served at one
o'clock, and dinner at nine ; but they are never
up to time. One evening it was eleven before the
dinner appeared, and as there was nowhere to go
after this late raeal, nothing remained but to sleep
on a full stomach. Many of the small farms and
vineries hereabouts look like graveyards, for
granite is split into long shafts and used as posts
to forra pergolas for the vines. The Spaniards of
this region resemble British islanders, their phy
sique, dress, and employments are all like our
own. Moreover, they play football and cricket,
and their outlook is towards the north rather than
to their Spanish relations in the east and south.
This part of Spain has some excellent roads, and
the scenery and general attractions are so varied
that it is well worth the visit of the motorist. In

272 A PILGRIM'S DOLE
summer the climate is lovely, and the roads quite
equal to the need of those who travel for some
thing more than the exhilaration of rushing
through the air. Spain is no place for those who
would hurry ; and no matter where one would
learn, to enjoy he must go slowly ; thus far I
have raet no motorists who have seen, felt, or
come to possess anything by their travels. They
made too much pace.
Always a pilgrim, I turned towards Santiago de
Compostella, the greatest of Spanish shrines and
for centuries the sanctuary of the Christian world.
St. James is said to have arrived in a cockle-shell
on the coast of Galicia, and carried on a mission
in Spain. In the eighth century his bones were
found in a wood on the site of the city of Santiago.
A bishop was fortunate enough to raake this dis
covery ; and creating a shrine, it became the
most renowned in Europe.
To tell the plain truth about Santiago, it is in
few things remarkable ; the cathedral and some
other ecclesiastical buildings are certainly mag
nificent, and as much may be said for sorae of the
streets. But though the site is picturesque, the
setting does not inspire devotional feelings. Com
merce has long dominated the place, and there is
an alertness and raoney-raaking air about it un
usual to Spain. Chiraneys, of an iraraense size,
rise above many houses, running up like roofless
chambers, and all black because beyond the reach
of the whitewash brush. In shape and proportion

TAKING A HOLIDAY 273
these chimneys are distinctly ugly ; they are men
tioned only because chimneys are rarely seen in
Spain. I came here for the feast of Santiago, and got it
in the form of a piece of bread, for I was promptly
clapped in the lock-up. I had found a lodging, and
was prowling round when a town guard inquired,
" Pregunto yo ? " — I ask. I answered satis
factorily, but the town guard was a fool, and took
me to the carcel — lock-up. The King was ex
pected, and I was regarded as a suspicious charac
ter who might have designs on His Majesty.
The heat at the time was sickening, and the
carcel so cool, clean, and airy that I was glad to
be there. As they took my pocket-book and pencil
from me I was unable to write, so I enjoyed a rest
and fell back upon similar experiences; but the
only one I will mention coincides with this.
Two young German mechanics decided on a
working holiday in Spain. They imagined they
could get employment in the principal towns and
earn enough to enable them to see the country.
This is quite impossible, since Spanish workmen
are competent to do the work of their own land ;
and unless a raan is called for some special task
he should never persuade himself that he can earn
a bare subsistence by hand labour in Spain. But
the Germans had the courage of youth. They
went to Barcelona, which was cosmopolitan enough
to provide them with a few weeks' work, and then
they started for the south. For over four months

274 A PILGRIM'S DOLE
they wandered, visiting scores of towns and hun
dreds of villages, carrying a good-sized pack and
keeping a splendid face. They did any number
of little jobs for the peasants, in return for bread
and keeping their hands in trim ; but not a single
penny did they earn over all the long journey be
tween Barcelona and Seville. Here their luck
changed, for a man engaged them at once. They
were half-starved, hard, sun-browned little men,
who stood more in need of a week's good feeding
and complete rest than long days of hard labour
under a southern sun; but they had great pluck and
entered on their task at once. They had one good
meal, followed by four or six hours' hard work,
and then the police came and without any parley
ing raarched the pair of them off to the carcel ! Here
they were kept for a fortnight, and given but the
meanest of vegetable soup and a bit of bread every
twenty-four hours. And their offence ? The King
was coming to Seville, and they were foreign sus
pects I The King came, and the King went in the
course of three or four days ; but as it took a
week or more to discuss the event, the poor Ger
mans were forgotten and confined for a full fort
night ; then told they were harmless, addressed
as " gentlemen," and invited to " Go with God ! "
I met thera on a road raore than two hundred
miles from accursed Seville, and in all the land
they had found no other job. They were making
back for Barcelona by the Mediterranean coast
route ; and after describing some of their adven-

A PRISONER OF STATE 275
tures, one of them ended by remarking, " He had
had enough of Spain, and would be glad to get
back to Europe 1 "
For myself, I had no fears in the carcel of
Santiago. When I had grown cool and refreshed I
made a noise and demanded to see some authority.
There is no scarcity of this commodity in Spain.
The Spanish ego is the biggest thing in the country.
A sergeant came and wanted to argue, and tell
me I must obey and be silent ; but I would
neither. I demanded a higher authority. He
said, " I am the highest " ; and I, " No, you are
the lowest." In fear and disgust, he brought a
glorified kind of clerk, and when I had sized him
up I demanded some one higher. It was then
the inspector's turn, and fortunately for me this
worthy was on hand. He told me to be " pacific,"
that the best had been done for me, and that I
was quite safe. But I did not want to be safe, and
I would not be " pacific." I demanded to see the
alcalde — the mayor — ^who is a direct government
ofiicial and vested with far greater powers than
our own representatives. My audacity annoyed
the inspector ; but he was at the same time fas
cinated by it, for Spaniards love courage, and even
braggadocio captivates and beats thera. It was
now evening, but still hot outside, and the whole
crowd of officials conversed of the danger of ap
pealing to the alcalde until quite sure there had
been a natural termination to his siesta. But as
they could not confine rae beyond hearing, I kept

276 A PILGRIM'S DOLE
up a running fire until a civil guard was despatched
to the house of the alcalde. When he came the
situation changed at once, for he knew me ! At a
southern town I had been taken to a club, and
had talked with some of its merabers. The alcalde
of Santiago chanced to be there, and we recognised
each other at once. There was a good laugh on
both sides ; he called rae amigo — friend — and all
that remained was to drink each other's health in
cafe. So I got ray liberty, but during the remaining
days I was constantly appealed to by police in
uniform and civilian dress with " Pregunto yo ? "
This was most unusual, for though my wanderings
in Spain run to many thousands of railes, and
though I have been imprisoned over and over
again, and as frequently taken for a spy, I was
never before subjected to this running inquiry
from the police of a city. I can recall at least half
a dozen towns where I have been visiting at the
same time as the King, but my familiarity with the
crowd and the customs has allowed me to pass un
challenged. If the feast of Santiago is always carried out
during such sickening hot weather as I experienced
then, it must test the zeal of the religious pilgrim.
Talk of a shrine of salvation I the idea of hell must
have been invented here ! Pilgriras of all types
have come in thousands, and during the daytime
they wear an expression of fear, so intense is the
heat. This may be but a heat wave, for the popula-

MAKING THE BEST OF IT 277
tion is sturdy and masculine. Ford condemns the
women of this province for looking like hags at
thirty ; I wonder they are not hags at thirteen,
for they are drudging continually, and in this
withering heat they are the only folk on the move
— ^women hawking fruits and fish, driving pigs and
donkeys, carrying enormous bright steel water-
vessels, and sweeping the streets. These are the
Araazons of Spain. One cannot accuse the men of
being idle, but their employments take them away,
and all the hard work is done by the women. One
notes a masculine form of competition amongst
them too, even to arguing for first place with the
pitcher at the well. Slave-like labour imposes
untidy habits, and there is little display of pride
in the arrangement of the hair and dress of the
poorer class.
I have often had to complain of the Spanish pig ;
in Santiago he is my nearest neighbour.
Mazarelos, number seven.
May to many a soul be Heaven ;
Certainly the handmaid's pretty.
And she charms with eye and ditty ;
Likewise she is sweet and kind,
A merry maid to love inclined.
She gave me every need and favour.
And vowed her service beggars labour.
She praised me for my gracious smile.
And thought me like her Queen — no guile !
And though she may be wrong to blazes,
I do not care what he or she says.
This girl, she felt she spoke the truth ;
So God be thanked I knew such youth ;
But here I meant to say no more

278 A PILGRIM'S DOLE
That just as many times before
I came to lodge and sleep with swine.
Or lie awake and hear them whine.
For och ! and at my very nose
And round about, and near my toes.
The pigstye wrack and odour flows !
It's just a custom, nothing more.
To keep pigs on the basement floor ¦
And if the pigs complain and swear.
They place them further up the stair ;
And my complaint brings, " Lawks-a-mussy,
Why are you foreigners so fussy ? "
So here am I in pilgrim guise
Sleeping between two foul pigstyes.
Which if they do not make me sick
will drive me onwards pretty quick !

God bles*; the little pink-cheeked girl
Whose lip has such a roguish curl !
God smooth her pillow many a year
And keep the pigs from scaring her !
Lovers raay walk alone in Galicia, and in the
towns well-dressed men are seen strolling with
peasant maidens who corae to the feast in the
siraplest style of dress with a pale yellow or white
handkerchief tied over the head. A little shawl
over the shoulders is brought under the arms and
tied into a bow at the waist, whence hang two long
tails. This type of .peasant is always seen with a
pigtail or flat plait of hair.
When three people are walking together it is a
compliment to be forced into the centre position.
In a Santiago street were three elderly fat and
pompous men, forming a triangle, bowing, and

THE MIDDLE COURSE 279
pointing with great animation at the spot of earth
between them. As there are no strangers in Spain
I came up with, " What's the trouble ? " and all
said in chorus, " The fault is that Don So-and-so
won't take the middle." This was not news to me,
and I had the rudeness to laugh and to say, " How
silly I " Then they all turned upon me with in
dignation, and, " Oh, yes, you Enghsh, you take
anything ! " Then I laughed again and called
them friends, and as one fat old chap got up along
side me, the other two walked behind ; as couples
there was no occasion for dispute.
I can say no more than that I have seen Santi
ago, for I had no fine feelings there, and where one
does not feel one does not live. The patron saint
of Spain might easily be accommodated in a
hundred places far more beautiful and hallowed.
The town is quiet because the streets are too
narrow for wheel or pack-aniraal traffic ; in fact,
there are no animals except the pig, but him we
sraeU, if we do not see him, everywhere. The
prettiest thing I saw was a church procession of
little girls dressed as brides, and carrying candles
tall as themselves, which melted and tumbled
about under the hot sun. A band of three bag
pipes and two httle drums supplied the march
music. There was little in the picture excepting
that it was very old, quaint, and appealing.
Society foregathers at Santiago as a health resort
and place of love- and merry-makin§ ; fully twenty
thousand handsome men and women, all beauti-

28o A PILGRIM'S DOLE
fully dressed, may be seen promenading through
the cool evenings and far into the night.
Any true pilgrim arriving at feast time might
write : "From all these eyes and^^^farago
Save me, O Lord, from Santiago ! "
For it is truly Fashion's shrine, and the crowd
worships this goddess. The few earnest pilgrims
are unseen, and the church bells, processions, and
hogsheads of holy water are as nothing to the
fireworks, bands, and jubilation of those who come
for pleasure. Night after night I went out in
search of something which would quieten my soul,
for I was disturbed at finding so much worldliness
at this reputed greatest of shrines. But seek as I
would, I could find nothing to reverence ; nothing
mysterious or splendid, holy or blessed.
No pilgrim to Santiago but seeks his compostella
or passport. This consists of a gold or silver medal,
with a figure of the cathedral on one side, and on the
other, St. lago on a prancing horse, with flaming
sword beating down a host of infidel Moors. When
it was a custom for all devout Catholics to go on
pilgrimage, wills were often drawn to the effect
that should the heir fail to make a pilgrimage to
Santiago and obtain his compostella he would be
disinherited. As custoras die hard, more especially
in Spain, no visitor to the shrine but seeks an
amulet. The medal is bought in the town, then
carried to a priest or higher dignitary, who, for a
consideration, which he styles " a regard," blesses

THE LEGEND OF THE SHELL 281
the compostella and its owner. A cord is attached,
and it is supposed to be worn evermore round the
neck. Other medals show the tomb of St. lago ht by
a star ; others bear St. lago's cross ; one is in
the form of a concha — shell — with the Ano Santo —
year of pilgrimage.
Out of this legend of the sheU-boat of Santiago
arose the custom of ornamenting the habits of
pilgrims with shells, but the race of eccentrics is
practically extinct. A solitary beggar does a trade
in the precincts of the cathedral by parading in a
ragged brown cloak overlaid with shells, with a
band of thera about his neck and round the brim
of his hat.
A farmer said, whilst scratching at a bit of sour
soil, which I remarked needed a rest. " Ah, senor,
is the land to rest that I may starve ? No ; there
is no rest for anything in Galicia ! " Although so
attractive to the eye, Galicia is poor, and labour
is limited to the valleys, which hold but little good
soil. The hills and raountains are irretrievably
bare; and if the farming methods are old-fashioned,
one does not see that there would be any solid ad
vantage by raodernising thera.
In their domestic habits the Galicians are not so
clean as some of their neighbours ; but that is
because they are not so well off, and water is
scarce, or dear, which is the same. The country
villages are composed of low stone cots or hovels ;
nearly all are detached. The people are of medium

282 A PILGRIM'S DOLE
size, well formed, and never a mean walk or hard
face is seen amongst them. The woraen wear
their hair in a wisp, pigtail fashion, or with two
narrow plaits behind the ears ; none of them
have any fringe or foretopsail of a striking and
alluring kind. They are more like the Cornish
and Welsh peasantry than any other people.
These are the reputed boors of Spain, but they do
not deserve the harsh name. If quiet obedience
to the laws of nature has made them willing, un-
coraplaining slaves, one raay call thera boors and
fools, but they are neither ; they have plenty of
sense, and know that little is gained by growling
and opposing. Frora one end of the province to
the other, one discerns nothing boorish or dis
tinctly objectionable ; they are so hard worked as
to have little or no spirit left in them.

CHAPTER XXII
BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD
A FTER the fashion and worldliness of Santiago
1~\ at feast time, one is glad to know the peace
attendant on the banks of a beautiful river. The
Sar is worthy of this name, the Minho and Sil even
more so. I traversed the last of these for some hun
dreds of kilometres, and though I gathered nothing
of a striking character, I acquired all I needed in a
sense of security and time to comraune with my
self. The Sil whirls by bare and rugged mountains,
through highland plains, and halts to form reaches
in numberless gorges and little vales. Villages are
few and far between, and thousands of square
miles are seen without sufficient natural wealth
to develop and maintain anything approaching a
town. It is about two hundred and fifty miles
from Vigo to Leon, and throughout this distance
only Orense, Ponferada, and Astorga raay be
classed as towns, and they are but small. The
villagers are primitive and unalterable, for in such
a thinly populated and rugged land there are no
means of change. The costumes are but necessary
garments, for it takes some raeans and pride of
place to evolve a local dress. Throughout the
283

284 BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD
region drained by the Sil there is little soil, ex
cepting the scour and drift deposits it has made.
The villages are built largely of wood, for chest
nut trees are common in the hills, and rudely
hewn timber is arranged to form wide eaves and
hanging verandahs. Most of the roofs are of black
slate, or are flat stone slabs. There is no order in
the building of houses or villages ; but a state of
disorder at once stupid, untidy, and charmingly
picturesque. The churches are laughable, groggy
little affairs, built by the villagers without con
sulting architect, history-book, or their own in
telligence. All are sraall, sorae are the raerest
cots. These quaint churches bear evidence of
great age, and wear a truly hallowed aspect, so
grey and sleepy. Where soft-baked tiles have
been used for roofing, they are coated with dark
reds, gold, and deep brown mosses and lichens.
Whole villages present no other colour than that
of golden-brown velvet.
The horaes are wretched, but viewed from a dis
tance they are restful and charming pictures. The
people are heavy, silent, and reserved. They live
by collecting timber from the mountains and the
produce they contrive to raise on the fiats and
banks by the river. A peasant of the Sil raay own
hundreds of httle plots amid rocks and by the
stream. One sees solitary vines, chestnuts, cork
oaks, or half a dozen maize plants, growing out of
a cranny of some high peak, and often a few stones
are piled or a pole is hung to indicate the owner's

WHEN ALL WENT WANDERING 285
bit of landed property and to provide the means
of his getting up and down. The signs of struggle
for life are often so terrible that one thrills with
the fears of what has to be endured. The river
runs almost dry in places where the land sucks
up the flood for irrigating, then it drains off to
become a streara to fertilize the strips and flats
further down.
Sorae glorious raountains are crossed, skirted,
and threaded ; and one gets a taste of all the
seasons on any day, for the valleys are like ovens,
and the high peaks perishing cold.
The only sign of the genius loci are in the tracks
which intersect this region in all directions, the
old pilgrira ways whence men went to and from
Santiago, and the raore beautiful sanctuary of El
Vierzo. What raad men they were ! Yet none of
us can afford to put them off ; the world had been
so flat and hard and meaningless without thera.
Throughout these north - western provinces a
singular feature is seen in the maize-sheds, chiefly
of heavy stone, but sometimes of timber. They
remind one of Japanese sumraer-houses, as they
stand on four massive legs and have roofs with
wide, overhanging eaves. Maize is liable to injury
from damp ; and as this grain forms the stock
food of many village communities, maize granaries
are as numerous as cottages.
At Celanova, near Orense, is an ancient sepulchre
containing the bodies of Ilduara and Adosinda,
the founders of a church. Their tomb is sup-

286 BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD
ported on four pillars, after the fashion of that of
San Torcuato, one of the companions of Santiago ;
and at Oviedo may be seen the Caraara Santa, a
little chapel which is said to be the second oldest
building after the Moorish invasion. It was built
by Don Alonzo El Casto, in 802, as a receptacle
for the sacred relics which had been translated
from Toledo at the time of the Moorish conquest.
The sarcophagus is raised from the ground to
preserve the relics from darap — I quote from
" Murray " — as it seems certain that the maize-
houses have grown out of these ancient tombs and
sanctuaries. The priests and pilgrims acquainted
with the tombs would spread the information con
cerning their shape and usefulness, and to-day
thousands of maize-houses are of corresponding
forra. Any one pursuing this subject will find
the best granaries in wood and granite near Ponte
vedra, along the Portuguese frontier, and between
Ponferada and the head-waters of the Sil.
Round Orense the country is open and contains
some very good soil, and further north, where the
great plain of Leon begins, there are all the natural
materials to provide a sturdy yeoraan class. This
district is held by the Maragatos, a strange tribe
who bear little resemblance to their neighbours.
A good deal has been written about them, but no
clear account has been given of their origin, dress,
and social customs. They are in raany ways
different frora the Spaniards around them. They
live in villages destitute of design or order, have

THE MARAGATOS 287
no sense of beauty in their homes ; and, where
villages have stood for hundreds of years, there is
not a single tree, flower, hedge, or wall, excepting
where needed to form a yard. Every house is hke
its neighbour, a rude square pile of dull red mud
or of sun-dried bricks, standing out on open plains
— ^it is hard to distinguish a Maragato viUage from
an acre or two of hummocky land. These are a
stern, thrifty folk, devoid of all concern for any
thing more than daily bread ; and as they use up
everything as they go along, have no means of
building or planting for effect. At first sight one
would read the Riot Act over them for not doing
more in the way of improving their land ; but
climate is seen to be a stern arbiter ; even the
summers yield some bitter weather, and the winters
must always be hard. Life here is a continuous
fight against perishing winds and long seasons of
snow and cold rain. At harvest time the scenes
are enchanting, for the wheats are of the red-
straw and red-eared types, and cover a boundless
world with red gold. Practically all the labour is
by hand, and the bulk of the harvest reaped by
women and girls, who are shapely, even-featured,
and clean, if we except the red dust or mud which
is ever about their clothes.
I am not bent on describing cathedrals, but I
should be selfish if I neglected to say a word or
two on that of Leon. I went early one morning
to be thrilled, and I know that my face was
radiant for hours after. I had but one regret —

288 BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD
that all peace-seeking souls were not there to
share the experience with rae. A Japanese has
said, " Great art is that before which we long to
die." At Leon one feels that both the soul and
the body are safe, that one stands in the sanctuary
of the world, and that there is nothing more to be
done or feared. I cannot tell how this glorious
pile possesses, moves, and rejoices. During my
first day at Leon I visited the cathedral three
times, and the next four. Time after time I sat
down to write, but ever with a feeling that I was
presumptuous, committing an act of sacrilege.
To me the architect has long been the world's great
artist. He of all men creates, subdues, and
satisfies. We can reverence buildings more than
anything else which man has made.
Leon cathedral has had its interior entirely re
built, and one is glad to discern that real love lay
behind the modern architect and builder's work.
On entering this house of God one is convinced
that one has stumbled upon heaven. The propor
tion is perfect, the walls are light as cobwebs, be
jewelled with the most effective and abundant
display of stained glass. So overwhelmed was I,
that I gasped and went oiit ; then returned and
went out again, because I could not help speaking
aloud. " This is a holy thing ! " " I have found
the holy thing," I kept saying — and it is holy !
Man may hope to see nothing more religious,
deified, and soul-satisfying.
Leon cathedral is a vast open chamber, but one

AN OFFERING TO OUR LADY 289
realises that it is fiUed with the Spirit of God. AU
the waUs are of glass, framed with clusters of
narrow columns. The centre-piece of the eastern
window is all lemon - gold and celestial - blue,
with a httle ruby, green, and white ; and when
the morning sun floods the vaulted space with
rainbow beams, one feels able to tread them up
to heaven. Surely there can be no glass to equal
this ? Near to the high chapel there is a tomb
to Ordoiio the Second. His effigy hes behind a grill
or light iron screen. When the sun shines through
the east window, it shows Ordoiio's head on a rose-
red pillow, with a veil of amber over his face,
caused by the sunlight shining through the grill.
Anything more artistic would be hard to find.
Here, with gladness, I did what I had never done
before — ^put hard cash into a Romish money-box !
For at the gate of a side chapel I see, " Limosna
Para la Virgen del Camino " — " Alms for Our
Lady of the Road." This is my chance, for I am
eternally on the road, and with much to be thank
ful for I must needs make offering. I want to pay
as far as in my power for the blessed privilege of
being led in safety over the long road to this holy
place. I am sobered and tempered by what I have
seen and felt, lost and longed for in the past ; now
I know where is beauty, food for the soul, and the
thing all-worthy. Pilgrim, wherever you are, set
your face towards Leon whilst it is day !
For the first time I sat down to write within
a cathedral, for I had an almost passionate longing

290 BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD
to describe what was about me, but I was dumb !
This thing is to be felt ; and feeling one desires
repose ; any kind of effort is a waste of precious
time and an insult to the claims of one's soul.
No need to go into details — ^in one sense there are
none — ^for with all the lightness, grace, and colour
are no obtrusive vanities, tombs, or brazen orna-
raents. The form and colour make a monument of
glory ; one wants to sit quietly under the spell of
it. Here I worship colour for the first time. Till
now I had discovered beauty only in form, but I
recant as this colour uplifts me. I try to discern
what it is that raakes this such a lovely church ;
call it the perfection of the stained-glass style or
light pointed Gothic ; but this means nothing.
Cathedrals are like human beings — some are aU
outside show; some the embodiment of vanity;
some nothing more than coarse ignorance and
superstition ; but some are lofty, grand, holy,
filled with the Spirit.
This is Leon. It is alive and it raakes one live.
Talk about subdued effects ! — no need for dark
ness or even shadows here. It is four in the after
noon of a bright raidsuraraer day, and the light is
strearaing through — how raany thousand feet of
coloured glass ? There are thirty-four immense
windows, and forty-two only a trifle smaller, be
sides several rose, star-shaped, and other forms
in the recesses. The nave is about three hundred
feet long, and so open that one can observe most
of the glass walls from raany view-points. The

THE GREAT BUSINESS 291
colour of the stone is tarnished gold. Could there
be a better frame for these wonderful pictures,
each distinct, yet all merging into one great flood
of holy light.
One day three Americans, hard-featured, com
mercial-looking men, were walking round ; and
one, a man about fifty, turned and inquired some
what angrily, " What do you think of this ? " To
which inquiry I raade but a faltering reply ; then
he bit his lips, looked round with a perplexed stare,
and after a time said, with inexpressible sadness
in his face, " I have raade a mistake ! " No doubt !
He realised that here was to be discerned the great
business. We get our best lessons out of churches
and such spots on earth as compel us to reverence ;
and so I say again, Pilgrira, wherever you are, turn
your steps towards Leon !
Leon is the cathedral, but should one desire
more, there are the great walls which run to fifty
or sixty feet in height, and are, on the authority
of my own measurements, in many parts over
twenty-seven feet thick. The market square con
tains a few fine old houses which have their veran
dahs and windows ornamented with strips of hand-
beaten ironwork, held in place by large rose-
headed, hand-made nails.
The bread of this province is in the form of
iraraense flat cakes frora six to eight pounds in
weight ; and the cheeses appear to be made in
drain-pipes, for they are long and narrow, and not
unlike so many fat arms lying on the market stalls.

292 BY OUR LADY OF THE ROAD
Many rude wooden implements, forks, harvest
rakes, bullock bows, and animal collars are to be
seen, and the one-piece clogs stick up on high
heels with a notched cross-piece under the tread.
The faces of these clogs are often well carved and
painted in colours. The clay vessels and utensils
are very attractive, the colour a deep red, and the
forms varied and novel.
The dress of the Leonese women is quite plain,
all wearing black skirts or prints with a handker
chief over the head ; but the Maragatos who come
to market wear very short dresses in colours, and
show puffed and quilted knickerbockers. They
wear large ear-rings of a curious shape, and the
older the woman the more is she bejewelled. The
Maragatos wear a peculiar silver wedding ring.
The faces of the market-folk are good, and all are
quiet ; no one pesters or bawls, shows temper, or
any sign of greed.
Motherhood. In the raarket-place of Leon a
woman was suckling a baby tied within her blouse,
and another little thing was clinging to her skirt.
She was offering two live rabbits, and pressing
their merits by saying their insides were worth a
lot, as they were heavy in young. All would be
eaten ! But do we not make ranch of unlaid eggs ?
The Spaniards call all such things eggs, and praise
them highly. I don't know how raany little
raysteries I have swallowed.
The Leonese use a curious meat -dressing bowl,
which they call a picadera — bit-holder. This is a

THE LOT OF LEON 293
well-turned wooden platter, with a round block
left in the centre, so that it looks exactly like a
mushroom. This vessel is most useful when raak
ing sausages, and for preparing salad and other
vegetables. Leon stands out on a great highland plain, sur
rounded by rich wheat lands ; and far away are
mountains cold and white ; for when not under
snow they are grey, hard, and uninviting. One
may walk round Leon in half an hour, yet it holds
this wonderful cathedral ; and it is well to con
sider that it has been entirely rebuilt inside, and
half restored on the outside, from funds raised by
this small community. Happily, there are no
trams here, or any street traffic on wheels beyond
a rackety bus or two. Where trams come people
begin to shout and quicken their pace, and all
grows wearisome. One walks in Leon frora morn
till eve, and hears no more than the jangle of a
mule-bell, a donkey's clattering feet, and the clogs
and wooden-soled boots of the peasants.
Some complain that Leon does not go ahead,
but where is it to go to ? It depends on its great
wheatfield, and whilst that provides a decent life
of a quiet kind, it leaves no room for the speed of
vanity and the lust for gain. The Leonese are
very clean in their dress and domestic habits, and,
which is raore reraarkable, the poorest streets are
clean. As an ancient town it boasts a few subtle
and mellifluous odours, to which it would be the
height of impertinence to object.

CHAPTER XXIII
NOW ALL IS DONE
THE road from Leon into the Cantabrians is
almost British in character, for large trees
are met with in variety, and there are tumbling
and lazy streams with pollarded willows and httle
fields walled or hedged about with hawthorn and
briar roses.
As one ascends the pass to the Asturias the
fields get sraaller, and thousands of hay, corn, and
potato plots give a sense of sufficiency and security
to the horaes along the mountain-side. Then come
forests of chestnuts ; and* where the surface is
rocky, isolated trees. The beech, ash, and oak
thrive in the Cantabrians ; nearly all are moss-
grown, or have a wealth of ferns or moisture-loving
vegetation at their feet.
In the midst of this scenery I fell in with a
market-woman and a priest holding an alterca
tion, she abusing him in the raost audacious manr
ner because he had told her she would be damned
unless she supported the church. I had thought
it impossible to hear any one, and especially a
woraan of Spain, so outspoken. But this comes of
being born in the raountains ; and in spite of the
294

A VIEW OF ASTURIAS 295
Catholic boast that its religion changes not in
place or season, there are wide contrasts observ
able in priests and their congregations as one moves
up and down the world.
Viewing Asturias from the heights the country
is most varied, passing from the arctic to the sub
tropical, as the eye surveys what lies between the
highest peaks and the coast. Towns and villages,
rivers and cataracts, bridges and fords, forests and
fields, winding roads and railways, appear to show
Asturias a rich and beautiful province. One may
travel for days through the richest of woodlands
under bowers of chestnut, walnut, and beech ; and
meet whole villages and thousands of independent
cots stuck up on stilts, for the climate is unusually
damp. Hayfields and maize cover ranch of the low
country. Even railway travelling is a delight here,
for the lines run along narrow drives, and trees in
variety meet overhead and within reach of the
hand. The country between Noreiia and Arrion-
das is exceptionally beautiful ; every kind of
scenery is met with, from the softest and most
seductive to the wild and terrible.
To reach Covadonga one leaves the main road
at Arriondas and journeys for about fifteen
mfles up a vaUey, hke the Wye, but more
varied and attractive. A busy trout stream
tumbles down this glade, and has for rival a
httle tramway with a snorting engine which
carries pilgriras to the shrine. I got here in a
warm, calm evening in July to find hay in the

296 NOW ALL IS DONE
making in high mountain fields, and flocks of
black and white sheep folding on the slopes and in
the valleys.
Covadonga is overbuilt ; if it were more natural
and the hospitality more casual, the pilgrim would
be better pleased. The village is composed of a
few cottages at the head- waters of a stream.
Above is a well-built, but garish church ; a
monastic set of buUdings occupied by the pre
siding priests ; a large modern hotel, and the old-
fashioned hospedaje — pilgrim's rest-house. For
conventional comforts the tourist puts up at the
hotel, but those seeking the atmosphere and subtle
blessings of a shrine find the raore modest and
primitive hospedaje the better place. The great
annual pilgrimage takes place in September, but
one gains most in the contemplation of the glorious
scenery — the whole region constitutes a vast
church in the open.
My first delight at Covadonga was fleshly. I
wanted a meal, for beyond a small cup of chocolate
I had not broken fast for fourteen hours. At last
I sat down to six or seven courses, with good wine,
excellent black coffee, and a neat maid to " finish
the cup," as she termed it, with a suspicion of
fine brandy. But the dish which appealed most
was new to me — veal and ham rashers spiced,
rolled, and baked. Try it, ye gourmets !
Seldom a shrine without some curious or especial
food. At Covadonga is found a dulce — sweet —
known as " angel's hair," composed of finely

PILGRIM FARE 297
shredded melon boiled in sugar and with the
appearance of silken threads in clear honey. The
flavour is not pronounced, but delicate ; and in
this soft, light, purging air, it is truly angelic.
Trout is abundant ; the fish are brought alive in
buckets of water from the stream to the kitchen.
Large dishes of trout are put down at almost every
meal, and as they are cooked with rare skill one
does not easily tire of them. The bread of Cova
donga is delicious, and distinctive in shape and
texture. Within, it is smooth and white as a
cracknel biscuit, the crust a pale yellow, sheeny,
and without a crack. Half a pound of dough is
rolled into a strip, and the knobby ends are brought
round to resemble the heads of two tired little
goblins lying across each other.
The next day was Santiago's, and I was roused
at five by the clanging of the sanctuary bell.
From my window I could see the pilgrims and a
few very fat and sleepy nuns in grey trudging off
to Mass. The world was then cold, the air steel-
blue and wonderfully calm, the noise of water
faUing through the hills the only sound — for the
region is of limestone pierced with caves and under
ground rivers beyond counting.
I cannot begin with history. I must find ray
place and fill in the chinks ; neither the historian
nor the roraance-raaker can help till I have found
something of myself, so I came to Covadonga un
provided. Ignoring the guide and the history - book, I

298 NOW ALL IS DONE
started up the mountain through the largest and
most varied natural garden, thinking as I went
of the uses of money ; and in the end it appeared
to be of value only where it purchases that
precious thing, privacy. Here one is private. I
can get no mail or other communication. I can
not, if I would, touch or look on the world, and it
cannot touch me. That is my highest joy, that I
ara beyond the reach and press of the world. And as
if fearing that I should be discovered and dragged
back, I climbed and climbed till I could no more,
for the country became broken, and I had to tack
and wind through passes and little mountain fields ;
by brakes of hazel and beech ; scale limestone
crags, and on by strips of soft green lawn and
patches of wild flowers growing above long grass.
Man makes hay in the crannies at these heights,
and all the crops had not been cut and carried to
the homes below. I paused under many a natural
castle and gateway of rock, where splendid masses
rose or leaned together on the mountain-side. I
leapt the torrents and drank from dripping stones
and calra, arrested pools. I tired, I rested,
gathered strength, and raust needs go on. Hills
were below and above me, and valleys near and
far ; trees of deepest green stood solitary, and
woods and waving lines of green showed their joy
in a succession of warm, moist sumraer days. The
highest peaks beckoned, promising a story and a
rare scene, so I went on.
I fought with the humble-bees for the honey

COMING INTO MY OWN 299
within the throats of the large purple flowers of
the wild nettle. I gathered nosegays and sniffed
and chewed them as a child, and child-hke threw
them away. Where the ground was sure, I chased
little blue and brown butterflies, but without
reason, for taking me for a Franciscan they settled
on my hands. I drank more and more water, for
the air lightened with every step, and there came
that longing we have in raountain heights to be
washed and pure. I rolled up ray sleeves and let
my arms sink to their elbows in an icy pool held
by the ooze on the mountain-side. Then I lay on
a mossy slab and felt it would be better if I lay
beneath, in the conviction that there I should be
undisturbed for ever. But freshening, a supple
ash-plant waved in my face, and all the hard years
slipped away. I made rae a whistle with a high
plaintive note like that of a wounded bird ; so I
took a thicker piece with a lip which alraost filled
my mouth ; this had a fuU, challenging sort of
sound and stimulated me to a quick march up the
mountain. I climbed, I blew, and I laughed at my
childishness and pride in small things. Then I
came into the presence of the great, for I arrived
at the summit of what proved to be the highest
peak for miles around. It was no great height,
four thousand feet or so ; but all in sight of it was
mine ! — to the east, mountains and mist ; to the
north and the south, mountains and mist ; and
towards the west, the light of the setting sun.
Far below lay wonderful valleys, castles, trees,

300 NOW ALL IS DONE
and fields, and the shrine of Covadonga ; around
me swept buoyant and sustaining air, which said
to ray soul, " Rejoice, thou art free ! " So I sat
me down on this crown of the world ; and, looking
round to see nothing I feared, there, with the rude
pipe of my raaking, I blew out the song of my
heart !
Covadonga, like the rest of its class, came into
note as a sanctuary and place of pilgrimage in the
eighth century. A book on the inventions of the
eighth century should rival those of the nineteenth
or this twentieth. Covadonga owes its origin to
the beatification of Pelayo, the last of the Goths,
who overcame the Sara,cens in this valley. Ac
cording to tradition, his body lies in its holy
cave. The reraains of Alonzo the First, and FavUa,
both of the eighth century, are also buried here.
As a shrine this ranks third or fourth among those
of Spain. Santiago stands first, then Montserrat
(the only one with a soul). El Pilar of Zaragoza, and
Covadonga. The Escorial, though comparatively
modern, was once a popular shrine, but its his
toric associations, splendid paintings, and other
works of art have raade it more attractive to the
tourist than to the devout pilgrim.
Other shrines of Spain are El Vierzo, San Miguel,
near Ronda, and El Virgen del Montana of
Casceres. Pelayo worked wonders at Covadonga, kilhng
more thousands of dusky Moors than the narrow
defiles could possibly have held ; but all to good

BEAUTY PAYS 301
purpose, so far as the faith was concerned. And
then, because this was a lovely mountain-girt
valley, with rocks carved, fretted, and piled like
castles about it ; and because of dangerous crags
and overhanging cliffs and torrents of icy water ;
cavernous pools ; natural wells ; underground
rivers and streams ; glacier-like faces of mouur
tain sweat ; splendid trees, delicate flowers, ferns,
and mosses ; and because the wind shouts and
sighs up and down the vales, and round the
crags, making melody within the fluted shafts
of the rocks ; and because upon the heights there
is always cloud, mist, and the comraanding finger
of God ; and because man cannot look in any
direction without fearing and wondering, rejoicing,
dreaming, gaining courage, trying to get into touch
and harmony with nature ; and because beauty
pays handsomely whenever it can be caught and
held for sale, those astute old chaps, the Spanish
Fathers, said one to the other, " We must not
neglect this good thing I Come along, I pray ye,
with St. Pelayo. Lo, here is a cave and a stream
on the site of his battlefield, and the scene of his
great labours. Let us raagnify his suffering and
the splendour of his deeds, for, verily, we may
say whoso cometh hither to witness shall find his
reward." So between begging, borrowing, and
high romancing, they found a torab for Pelayo
and, his body and coffin not wanting, the business
began. As this happened in that very good time
when the world lived on miracles and pilgrimage.

302 NOW ALL IS DONE
the story of Pelayo and the splendours of Cova
donga soon proclaimed it a notable shrine. We
cannot object to that, for in feeding the bodies of
a few, the monks and their legends and labours
satisfied the hunger of the souls of many.
A neat sandal is worn by the mountain-folk of
the Cantabrians. A piece of white or buff-coloured
green hide is cut to the shape of the foot, crimped
round the margin, and sewn with a broad white
leather lace, till it looks like the curled edge of
pie-crust. These sandals are worn over a black or
brown felt sock and tied with a heel and ankle
crossing of green leather. In the low country,
wooden clogs are worn. One may gauge the
primitive character of the Cantabrian Basques
from the fact that whenever it rains they take off
any foot-gear and go bare-foot. These moun
taineers are the brownest" of Spaniards ; their
climate moist and never very hot, they expose
themselves to all weathers. The boina, which
every man wears, is in the forra of a tam-o'-
shanter, but so small that it leaves all the face
exposed. The women go bare-headed or use no
more than a black handkerchief. One rarely sees
a fair person in this, the reputed home of the
Spanish Goths ; but raany fair, red, and tawny
folk are seen in Guipuscoa and the valleys under
the Spanish P57renees. A few curly-haired people
are raet with round Gijon, the like of which
are to be found in no other province. There
is little that is strange in the Spaniards of

THE NORTHERN TYPE 303
the northern coast, they could pass for British
islanders. When one has seen Spain in all places and
seasons one raust believe that the people of the
north coast have the best of it ; their climate is less
rigorous, nature is more beautiful and more bounti
ful ; the sense of. hfe is stronger, and the risks
and dangers they encounter are those which im
prove and raellow the soul.
The woraen along this coast are of fine physique
and perfect slaves ; though doing every class of
raanual labour, they are not pulled out of shape
or roughened by it. Woraen load and unload
ships, control farms, fishing, everything, excepting
the mechanical and skilled handicrafts. There are
many facial types, but all are much alike in dis
position. The timidity, caution, and noisiness of
the south is not apparent, but instead there is a
French manner without the brightness and sense
of order ; the modern architecture, too, is French
in character, and many words are articulated
in French forra.
Bilbao is the finest city of its size in Spain ; it
bears a striking resemblance to the modern part
of Edinburgh, and is scarcely less beautiful. It
lies in a vale, on both sides of a deep and sinuous
river, and is shut in by hills of splendid propor
tions, whose slopes afford great variety in form
and the colour of their vegetation. Old Bilbao
teems with human life, and the new part spacious,
formal, and stately, is also full of people. The air

304 NOW ALL IS DONE
reeks of trade. One feels that this is a money
manufactory. Hundreds of mines are disgorging
to maintain this city, and are doing so very weU ;
the general effect is strong and comforting. Press
and get ahead, raay not be the best of raottoes ;
but here it is recognised, and as all strive to work,
few are poor, and the result is an unusually robust,
animate, and cheerful crowd.
Bilbao is un-Spanish in many ways. Life is an
earnest affair. Attractive pieces of architecture
abound, and the old streets, though straight, are
full of character. The town appears always to be
en fete, for every family's washing in all colours
hangs from the windows perpetually. Children
are in swarins, and very noisy and hardy. The
boina of the Bilbaoans is tiny, sitting on the head
like a languid apple-dumpling.
The following naraes appear in the order printed
over the fish and fruit vendors' staUs in the open
market of Bilbao. Could any other nation make
such a display of beautiful names ?

Juana Modesta

Josef a

Lucia Cecelia

Dominga Augustina

Narcissa

Antonia Basilisa

Santa Pascasia

Maria

Joaquina Eusebia

Andressa Eufemia

Rita

Victoria Francisca

Victoriana Cipriana

Benilda

Valeariana Manuela

Elisa Juliana

Ramona

Tomasa Clotilda

Romulada

Hermenegilda

-One night in Bilbao a woman entered a cheap
eating-house and asked for pan y agua — a roU

TAX AND EVER MORE TAX 305
and glass of water — ^price one halfpenny. I sat
opposite, eating a tenpenny meal of four courses,
with wine and a variety of fresh fruit. According
to custom I smiled at the woman, as if she were ray
nearest friend, and placed ray hands as if to say,
" All this is spread for you." She replied by
shrugging her shoulders, letting her head to one
side, pouting her lips, and dropping the hand which
held the bread so that she said, " Observe the con
trast ? Such is fate 1 I am poor, you are rich ! God
help me! Virgen Maria! Por Dios!" This caused
rae to reflect on sorae signs of the times and quaint
humours of Spain. Signs of the Times
Owing to the taxes imposed upon thera, ad-
vertiseraent signs and announcements are scarce
in Spain. Window displays also are taxed ; in
fact, goodness knows what is not ! I was about to
write that the Spanish Government taxes every
thing, excepting brains ; but, well, enterprise is
certainly taxed. One cannot strike out, and be
in any sense independent, for the tax-collectors —
always plural — insist on coraing along and taxing
so much of the cream of the profits that there is
little reward for enterprise left. Two orphan girls
had to withdraw a sign which contained the single
word " peinadora " (hairdresser) in order to avoid
a preposterous tax ; and one of my landlords
had his sign hung on a wall inside the passage,
because it would be too costly to show it in the

3o6 NOW ALL IS DONE
street. I have walked through miles of streets,
looking for a lodging-house, and must certainly
have passed scores of them ; but not one showed
a sign, for so sure as there is the slightest display
that house is taxed to ruinous proportions. This
taxing of enterprise and food-stuffs, and the farm
ing of the taxes, is the most baneful factor in the
everyday life of Spain. The whole system is based
on an entirely false, iraraoral, and antiquated con
ception of social economics.
If taxing the townspeople drove them to be
first-hand and more efficient producers, there
raight be sorae reason for this thoroughgoing
bleeding of the taxpayers ; but it does not ; for
no class of field produce escapes taxation, and all
the land is taxed in ways too nuraerous to raention.
From three to five hundred men are employed
in sitting round and levying taxes on a town of a
hundred thousand souls ; and practically all the
money collected is divided araongst the tax-
gatherers, whose chief employment is to beget off
spring, if anything raore parasitic than themselves.
Of course, some folk must proclaim their exist
ence and that of their wares ; but the signs are
always small and briefly business-like. On one
side of a huge portal giving access to a cheap
eating-house, a tall, cadaverous creature was
sketched on the whitewashed wall, and out of his
mouth came the words : " I dine at one of the
best cafes in Malaga and pay two pesetas for four
plates ; look at rae ! " On the other side of the

MORE ABOUT WIDOWS 307
doorway was sketched a burly John Bull sort of
figure doing his best to get his arms to touch
around his enormous waistcoat, and laughing out :
" Here ! One penny ! " This was no exaggeration.
I have shared the penny meal of four courses —
soup, fish, a bowl of salad and fresh fruit, with
olives, bread, and crystal water.
In a cafe at Malaga was written in English on a
card, " English black stout porter for sale," and
I have known an inn named " The Widow." It
may be doubted if one ever had more lovers. To
catch English-speaking visitors in a northern
town, the barber hangs out the word, " Hair-
cutterie " ; and another barber has this sign,
" Barberia of the two Angels, ray wife and I "
(their surname is Angel). Spanish barbers are still
so old-fashioned as to pull teeth and use the
lancet. Over a door in a southern village are the
words, " Barber ; I draw blood."
Over raflway ticket offices the word " Exploita
tion " is fixed, and though it means only ordinary
business it seems not inappropriate, for they
rarely charge the fare marked on the ticket — but
generaUy more !
" El Frequentemente " is the sign of a wine-shop
in Salamanca, where one day a knot of men were
discussing the rare subject of women. A dry-
looking chap said he thought bachelors knew most
about woraen, and then, looking down his waist
coat, uttered reflectively, " Perhaps that is why
they are bachelors ! "

3o8 NOW ALL IS DONE
The leading bull-fighters issue very elaborate
sheet almanacks, with records of tables and per
formances from year to year. There is usually a
full-length portrait of the hero in fighting fig,
with embleras of the ring forraing an illuminated
border. Here are two samples :
" Lagartijo (the lizard), 1900-02. Fought in
276 plazas, averaging 3 bulls in each — 828 in aU."
" Moreno de Alcala, 1907-8, fought 40 corridas
— engagements. Killing 120 bulls in the year —
(Spain and Mexico)." Sounds and Cries
Spanish cathedral and great church towers have
from twelve to twenty bells hung at different
heights and used for different ceremonies. The
general clanging and tanging is " striking," but
not charming. There is no set pealing, the boys
who monopolise the towers do no raore than make
signals to each other.
Beautiful bells in Spain there must be, for many
have been wrought with great care ; but hung,
tongued, and struck as they are, no true voice
escapes them capable of reaching the soul of man.
The knife-grinder and tinsmith announces his
presence out of a Pan's pipe of five to seven reeds,
at the same time beating out a quick step with a
light hammer on the bottora of a pot, platter, or
frying-pan. This he does with great dexterity,
providing homely music. His pace is quicker than
any other man in the street.

THINGS WHICH ADORN 309
On the railways the guards blow little brass
horns so tunefully that one longs to escape from
the train and go a-hunting.
I have seen at least one stove-pipe hat in its
proper place. At Velez a sailor's cabin had an old
silk hat stuck on the roof to form the chimney —
just as in the house of Wendy.
Spanish editors do not believe in anonymity.
In Valladolid the entire front of a building — more
than thirty feet — ^is taken up with " Andres
Martin, Editor."
The " Heraldo de Madrid " had a notice :
" Makowski, the actor most celebrated in Berlin,
died repentant this morning."
On a boiling hot afternoon, at a bull-fight in
Salamanca, some one dropped and broke a bottle,
and a man sitting near said quietly, " Now we
shall hear about the hot weather."
Another fellow in his enthusiasm threw his
umbrella into the ring, and the handle came off !
" Vaya ! " said he, "I'm off, I can't stand this
excitement " ; and he went. He represented a
common type of Spaniard who cannot experience
the slightest loss without wishing to sulk and
suffer alone.
In a cheap eating-house I took the only piece
of chorizo from the small plate of meat. " Brute ! "
exclaimed the maid. " Why ? " said I. " What's
it there for ? " " What for ? " she shrieked.
" It's to adorn the plate ! " I knew this well
enough, but hunger must be satisfied sometimes.

3IO NOW ALL IS DONE
Here is a story characterising the condition of
Spain and the Spanish manner of joking :
Devotee : "In five years I have made three
pilgrimages to the shrine of Montserrat."
Beggar : " Vaya ! Nothing ! In three weeks I
have made five pilgriraages to the raonte de
piete ! " (pawnshop).
In sorae provinces Spanish children are frank,
animate, and ready-witted ; in others, shy, quiet,
and dull. Some children were playing at school
on the sands near Malaga. A little girl was asked,
" What is an island ? " and she immediately
answered, " A bump in the sea ! "
A little boy, asked by a grown friend, " Do
you love me ? " sighed, " Sometimes, but not now ;
I am fat with dinner ! "
The Basques do not provide one with much
entertainment, but they teach some useful lessons.
They are the Stoics of the Peninsula. All their
moveraents and actions are very slow, yet they
keep going and accomplish a good deal. They are
hard to understand because so unlike other
people ; their language, world, and its concerns
are their own ; they say nothing about either, at
least they do not brag to any foreigner. They are
the people — the foreigner does not count ! Not
that the Basque is uncouth, but he asks or implies,
" Your business ? Any more ? Thank you !
Good day ! " I stewed him hard for some time,
but he remained hard. There seems to be no way
of making a Spaniard out of him ; and one

HARD NUTS 311
wonders what he may be instead. Many Basques
do not know a word, excepting a garbled word of
Castilian, and their own Basquenth seeras to be
forraed for business and curt farewells. But one
likes their brevity, if only that it proves they are
not hurabugs.
Most of the Basque provinces are truly beauti
ful, but often it is a profitless beauty. One raay
not easily see so much green which is not to be
eaten or sent to market in some form, does not
attract tourists, or delight sportsmen. The
raountains, vales, and rivers are exquisite to the
eye ; but they do little to sustain the body. At
raost they do not sustain many bodies. The wet
winds of the Atlantic press almost continually,
and promoting sour moss-like growths over much
of the country, neither man nor beast can subsist
on the natural vegetation. Trees of many kinds
thrive, and one could not wish for a better wooded
land, or greener, cooler, sweeter vales. Walnuts,
chestnuts, and cobnuts are grown in great quanti
ties, and then there are the Basque-nuts. I can
not explain further about the Basques, for they
will not let me ! In one way I know them ; in
another it would be presumption to admit as much.
They are a very hardy, big, strong, determined,
good-looking and quiet people, good to know and
a misfortune to lose.
Arriving at San Sebastian, after nine months'
wandering, I look back on many blessed days. I
have lived to my soul's uplifting. I have increased

312 NOW ALL IS DONE
the length and the breadth of my life. I have had
some real leisure, a feeling that I was beyond the
reach of the world and raight have it out with
myself ; size up the past ; and decide on what
should be retained. I have been imitating Spain,
and restoring or rebuilding the edifice of ray true
self. I am fairer, and come again to have faith
in work. I have gathered a store of useful
materials ; I have two willing hands and the
world waits 

THE NORTHERN GATE
The Northern Gate swings wide at last !
There glints the chaste Pyrenean snow ;
Biscaya's tide is rising fast.
And you and I must homeward go.
Blest, if this jaunt our hearts inspire
To service for the sons of men ;
With time beside life's evening fire
To dream and live these days again.

INDEX

Abstemiousness, 88
Affection, 76, 84, 255, 161
Alms for protection, 289
Alicante, 165
Altar stairs, 220
Angels' hair, 296
Announcements, 178, 187
Anticipating Christ, 187
Arapiles, scene of battle, 256
Architecture, 198, 290
Arlanzon, River, 224, 230
Army, Spanish, 149
Anisetto, Don, 129

B
Baby-beating, the, 177
Barbers' signs, 307
Barcelona, 189, 198
Bar of Castile, 231
Basque folk, 310
Beasts of burden, 248
Beauties, Spanish, 13, 20,
131, 183, 200, 202, 236,
279, 301
Bells of Spain, 308
Bilbao, 303
Birthplace of the Cid, 228
Blackmail, 132
Blades, Spanish, 64, 113

118,
361,

Boasting habits, 46, 99, 103, no
Boats, primitive, 141
Boina, the, 302, 304
Books, absence of, 10, 126
Boulders, giant, 269
Bread, 94, 201, 243, 291, 297
Bricks and buildings, 260
Bride of Fate, 186
Burgos, beauties of, 223, 244
Burial, 66, 163, 214
Bull-fighters, 11, 308
Business methods, 13, 99, 261,
262

Casceres for strength and order,
259
Caffs, 12, 125
Cane-splitting, 62
Cantabrians, 294
Cards, 62
Cartagena, 138
Castle of Burgos, 231
Castle of Medina del Campo,
237
Cathedral of Leon, 287
Cayetano, desire of, 239
Celosa, jealousy, 47, 129, 131,
250
Cemeteries, 160
Cervantes, house of, 233

313

314

INDEX

Chameleon, the, 77
Charro or Salamantino, 247
Children of Spain, 48, 135, 148,
184, 229, 261, 279, 310
Chimneys, 114
Chorizo, King, 91
Church of glass, 290
Cid, El, his birth spot, 228, 229
— his playground, 230
Civilisation, a burden, 193, 298
Climate, iiS, 182
Clothes-snatching, 164
Clubland, 126
Colour in art, 290
Columbus, place of death, 232
Comfort, lack of, 10
Compostella, the, 280
Conversation, 12, 23, 121
Cooking, 92, 95, 202
Cordoba, 12, 15
Covadonga, shrine of, 296
Corsair, home of the, 143
Costumes, 121, 183, 247, 249,
280
Couplets, 31, 65
Cradle, 117

D
Dancing, 104, 105, 249
Dangerous society, 279
Date palm in Spain, 152
Death, 90, 217
Decoration, street, 106
Delicacies, table, 69
Denia, 183
Dishes, 44, 45, 94, 95, 296, 297
Domestic habits, 200, 246, 281
Doncella, a fair, 72

Dress, 34, 49, 53, 58, 69, 74, 104,
112, 113, 121, 122, 144, 188,
264, 286
Drinking habit, 88, 89, 127, 158
DweUing-places, marvellous, 214

E
Enemies and weapons, 262
Ermitas, nature of, 187, 214
Europe's Liberator, 218

Fair, Seville, I07
Favila, tomb of, 300
Faith and hope, 241
Fare, 29, 44, 61, 95, 130, 211, 222
Farewells, 24, 137, 255, 312
Female attire, 13, 20
Festivals, 133, 174, i77, 248, 249
Fishing-boats, 144, 166, 180, 184,
188
Flavourings, 93
Flax spinning, 1 54
Flowers, i, 15, 18, 182, 189, 268
Food and feeding, 89, 93, 95, 96,
108, 296
Friends, meeting, S
Fruit, 93
Funerals, 157, 163
Furniture, 10, 89

Games, 62
Garden, an old, 18 ; town gar
dens, 23s
Gardens, natural, 212

INDEX

315

Garlic, 25, 43, 90
Gari, Friar Juan, 218
Garments, 34, 49, 53, 58, 69, 74,
109, 230
Garters, gift of, 108
Gate, the Northern, 312
Giant's Castle, a, 207
Gitanescos, 65
Government, 305
Granary of Spain, 247
Graves, 162, 213, 214
Gun-running, 184
Gypsies, 108 H
Hair-dressing, 21, 118, 119, 121,
263, 278, 282, 302
Herbs of the field, 90
Hills of God, 299
Homes, peasant, 41, 151
Horses, 123
Houses, queer, 102, 235, 250, 252,
253
Humour, Spanish, 6, 44, 60, 86,
136, I49> 307, 309, 310
Hunger, 99
Husband and wife, 71

1
Idling, 17
Industry, examples of, 151, 152,
188
Interiors, house, 8, 10, 102, 119,
187, 246, 263

K

Kiss, the, 86
Knife, 64

Labour and its reward, 195, 196
Lady, the, in Spain, 70
Landscapes, 2, 25, 112, 133, 140,
iji, 174, 181, 187, 188, 189,
206, 212, 225, 226, 257, 258,
266, 269, 283, 287, 294, 29s,
3"
Langton, 237
Language, 32, 190
Laundry customs, 11, 234, 304
Legend of the shell, 281
Leon, cathedral of, 287
Letter-writers, 203
Levitical law, 24, 44, 200
Lodging, loi, 127
Love, 64, 66, 80, 83
Love-letters, 146, 147, 167, 202,
204
Lovers, 121, 124, 171, 175, 253
Life, the religious, 178
Luis, Don, 45

M
Maize, 285
Manners, table, 46, 89, 135, 249
Manuela, Dona, 129
Marksmen, 181
Maria, 42
Maria Dona, 91
Market folk, 21, 122, 157, 238,
245, 292
Mass, 71, 297
Mattraca, the, 14
Meat, 43, 46, 49, 9°, 9i, 92, 93
Medina, Azzahra, 17
Memory, good, 5, 245
Middle course, the, 279

3i6

INDEX

Milch donkeys, 203
Minho, mouth of, 266
Misrario as home, 42
Mistress and maid, 71
Mistrust, 261
Money-testing, 39
Monk and monastery, 219
Montserrat, 206
Monuments and rubbish, 234
Moorish influence, 21, 246
Motherhood, 52, 135, 292
Mountain, the Holy, 213
Mountain scenery, 257
Mountains, life in, 28
Mules and dealers, 107
Muscatels, 55 ; eating of, 61
Music, 64, 270, 308
Murcia, vale of, 115

N
Names, 236, 304
Nicknames, 200
Nobility, 8

O
Odours, national, 108, 293
Oranges, 26, 11 J, 180, 185, if
Ordono, sleeping, 289
Our Lady of Health, 247
Ownership, 194

Painter's workshop and home,
135
Patch shops, 58
Pay day, 38

Peasant faces, 22, 29, 188, 249
Peasant fare, 29, 44, 61
Pelayo, story of, 300
Philip the Second, birthplace of,
232
Pilgrims, 221, 280
Pipe and drum, 248
Play, 72, no, 174
Police, 20, 175, 181
Pontius Pilate washed, 178
Pots and pans, 43
Poverty, 9, 23, 49, 69, 99, 130,
182
'Pride, 9, S3, 59
Priests, 165, 221, 294
Primitive scenes, 262, 284, 287
Proverbs, 95

Quail callers, 62

R
Raisin industry, 184
Rats and mice, 31
Revolt against labour, 142, 155,
193
Rice fields, 175, 183
Riches, 46, 49
Roads in Galicia, 271
Rock dwellings, 114, 167, 214,
217
Romance of the hermits' dwell
ing, 214
Romance, home of, 173
Rosario number one, 129
Rosario number two, 250
Rows, 128
Rules for pilgrims, 209

INDEX

317

S
Saffron, 1 14
Saguntum, 186
Salamanca, 244
Sandals, neat, 302
Santiago, 272
Scots of Spain, 223
Sereno, El, 176
Sermon, a, 192, 218, 240
Servants, 72, 236, 251, 256
Seville Fair, 100
Sexes, relationship of, 22, 76
Shoeing animals, 117
Shops, 13, 187
Shrines of Spain, 300
Shrines for vagabonds, i, 289
Shrines, source of, 213, 272,
301
Sign and gesture, 168, 169, 170,
171, 305
Signs, shop, 187
Sitges, town of, 188
Smuggling, 184
Social life, 10, 23, 96
Soil, poor, 281
Soldiers, 236
Soldiers travelling, 236
Song, 61,64, III, 153, 174
Soul of Spain, 66, no
Speech-making, 40, 59, 102
Starling, 57
Stratagems, 145, 147
Street cries, 308
Strife, 29, 32, 154
Superstition, 70, 148, 258, 226
Sweetmeats, 94, 108
Sword of grace, 262
Sword and flag, 149
Sum, the human, 195

Table manners, 24, 73
Tanners of Burgos, 230
Tanners of Salamanca, 244
Taxes, 305
Tea, 88
Time no object, 94, 97, 271
Towel and water, 119, 187
Travel moods, 4
Travel experiences, 20, 156, 158,
236, 273, 306
Trees, influence of, 224
Trinidad, 55, 76, 80, 84, 87
Turner picture, a, 257

U
Unpunctuality, 97, 271
Utensils, 8, 89, 108, 117, 119,
148, 233, 292

V
Vagabonds, 232, 237, 249
Valencia del Cid, 172
Valladolid, 232
Vandalism, 190, 233
Vegetables, 93
Veil, rending of the, 179
Villages, beautiful, 47, 284
Violets of Murcia, 115

W
Wages, 21
Walls of Leon, 291

3i8

INDEX

Water, 96, 211, 216, 262, 270
Water carriers, walk of, 262
Whitewashing, 246
Windows, scarcity of, 246, 250
wine and vine, 166
wisdom of the fathers, 208
Wit, 23, 34, 95
Women, names of, 304
Women, primitive, 249

Women, position of, 96, 131, 261,
277, 303
Work, the madness of, i, 19, 142,
155, 193
World's inquiry, the, 239

Zamora, beauty of, 236

WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD,
PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH