The pillars of Hercules

by David Urquhart

In the “Tyrian” (Sarrano) style, the hair is divided over the forehead, turned back with an ample fold, the ends fastened behind: the back hair is divided and plaited, and hangs down the back; and no doubt formerly, as in the East and in Barbary, silk of the colour of the hair was plaited in and hung down to the heels in tassels. There appears to be a reason why this style was called “Tyrian.” The Jewesses wear their hair bound upon the head in a very elaborate manner, with feathers, a cushion, and handkerchief, the Tyrian being all open and exposed. I find that I am concurrently using the past and present tenses, referring at one moment to the spot where I am; at the next to the times of Hiram and Solomon; but, in fact, they are so intermingled that it is impossible to dissever the Scriptural descriptions and the things themselves.

The other style is moño;—and has also a foreign association not, however, with Jerusalem, but with Paris, for it has been recently imitated there. The front hair, parted, is plaited on each side into one plait, then rolled as a wheel upon the temple, and fastened by a hair-pin. The back hair is gathered light, and secured behind by a riband. It is then divided into two parts and plaited; these are turned up like a bow, and secured by the same riband. The bow (I mean of the hair) is then twisted, so as to spread on both sides, resting on the nape of the neck. It derives its name from moño, which is a large rose of variously-coloured riband, which is sometimes used to set it off. It is placed on the crown of the head: from it hang two tassels of gold or silver, lace or embroidery.

There is no gown of a piece; the costume is in separate parts: the sleeves and body may be of any colour. They are, out of doors, covered by the mantilla; like it, the petticoat is black: formerly it was not above two yards in width, and fell to the mi-jambe with weights round to keep it down. In a discussion on these subjects with Spanish ladies, an English gentleman maintained, on the authority of Murray’s new “Guide-Book,” which had just come out, and which had been looked forward to with as much expectation as it produced disappointment, that only recently the ladies of Cadiz had taken to show their feet: that, “formerly, they wore their petticoats so long that you could not tell if they had any feet at all.” This produced an exclamation of astonishment and anger. A Gaditana mentioned that, having returned in 1823 from Paris to Madrid in the wake of the French army, bringing her mantilla with her, she sent for a milliner to order the other parts of the Spanish dress. The milliner told her that her Paris dresses would do, for that nothing else was worn; on which she apostrophised the artiste thus:—“Go out into the streets with mantilla and long petticoats!” Her astonishment equalled her indignation at seeing this hideous petticoat imposed on Spaniards, who, as she said, did not require it, not having “feet an ell long.”

The petticoat of the peasants in Andalusia is yellow, of a homely but excellent woollen stuff, and bordered with red, the two colours which the Spanish women most affect—the colours of their gorgeous standard, those of gold and blood.

A Spanish woman is no less attentive to her foot and shoe[86] than to her hair: from below the saga comes forth the plump leg in its creaseless stocking. The impression that remained on me of Spain, having been there as a child, was a black lace-bedizened female figure, with a bunch of flowers on the head and on the foot, and a white satin shoe, cheapening cod in the fish-market at six in the morning. If the wise man was bewitched by the sight of the “one eye,” so was the paynim Holofernes “ravished” by the sight of Judith’s sandal. But the sandal must not be taken for that thing which Abigails call by that name: it was not the service of riband that held the sole on, but the sole itself. Spain is still the country of the sandal: you may see it every day, and there is nothing that more recalls antiquity than the bands (stone-blue) by which it is secured round the ankle and foot.[87]

The old Spanish shoe is very low, and scarcely held at all at the heel: like the slipper of the Easterns, it required the action of the toes to hold it on. The calf of the leg accordingly was full, because its muscles were called into play. So important is this to the grace and ease of the figure, that at Rome the models, male and female, lose their pension if they wear a shoe with a thick sole.

There still wants something to complete the Spanish costume, or, perhaps, I might say the Spanish woman—and that is THE FAN. Yet, how supply this want? at least, without herself—how convey her and it on paper? You might as well attempt to teach on paper how to roll a turban, make coffee, or hit the bull’s-eye.

The petticoat has two names, basqueña and saga. The latter recalls the sagum of the Greeks and Romans, which is derived from sagi or sogi of the Touaregs: sagum designated a web or mantle. How it has come to be a petticoat I shall presently explain.

The sleeves, mangas, are tight to the arm, and buttoned up the fore-arm, not by button-holes in the stuff, but in the Eastern manner, with loops. The buttons are gold filigree, which we call Maltese: they are used in large numbers for ornamenting the maja dress. The body is low round the shoulders, as the present evening dress of Europe; but they do not sin against mechanics and modesty by bringing the edge of the dress to the angle of the shoulder. A scarf is fastened above the dress, which comes up behind, is secured upon the shoulders by clasps, and then brought down in front. There is something approaching to this worn by the women in Morocco. The buckles and clasps on the shoulders are frequently mentioned in the Old Testament.

The parts of the dress in which colour is allowed are the body and the sleeves, which, when out of doors, are shrouded by the mantilla. The dress for the streets is black, and invariably black; while the men display the most gaudy and variegated colours.