Spain in 1830, vol. 2

by Henry D. Inglis

The first stroll which a stranger takes through the streets of Seville, shews him a new order of things: he at once perceives the results of a hot climate, and the traces of Moorish dominion and Moorish customs. These are first remarked in the construction of the houses, which differ entirely from any thing that he has ever seen before. In place of the wide dark entry to a Castilian house, a passage, scrupulously clean, leads through the building to the interior square, or patio, which is separated from the passage by a handsome, ornamented, and often gilded, cast-iron door; through which, every one who passes along the street, may see into the patio. The patio is the luxury of a hot climate; it is open to the sky, but the sun scarcely reaches it; and there is always a contrivance, by which an awning may be drawn over it. The floor is of marble, or of painted Valencia tiles; sometimes a fountain plays in the centre; and a choice assortment of flowers, sweet-smelling and beautiful, is disposed around in ornamented vases: here the inmates escape from the noon-day heats; and here, in the evening, every family assembles to converse, see their friends, play the guitar, and sip lemonade.

There is something peculiarly attractive in a walk through Seville. The streets, though narrow, so scrupulously clean—the white-washed houses, every one with its range of balconies; those peeps into the patios,—so cool, so luxurious,—the golden oranges hanging over the garden walls, for every third or fourth house has its garden and orangery; and the glimpses of Moorish customs visible even in trifles. Among these, one of the most obvious, is the contempt of chairs: in many of the lower order of houses, and in the artizan’s workshop, it is usual to see the inmates squatted upon mats; and even in the most respectable houses, and in the best shops, most persons are seated upon low stools, not much elevated above the ground.

The general aspect of the population of Seville, differs greatly from that of Madrid. To begin with the upper ranks, there is something more eastern in the appearance of the ladies; they are more frequently seen veiled; their cheeks seem tinged with a hue of Moorish blood; and along with the fire of the Castilian eye, there is mingled a shading of oriental softness. Among the lower orders of women, we remark an extravagant and tasteless profusion of gaudy ornaments, immense earrings, and enormous bracelets, and numerous rings, which I have seen gracing the fingers of a common beggar: all this is a remnant of Moorish custom; and the dress of the Andalusian peasant, is even more grotesque and ornamented than that of the women: his jacket and waistcoat, are almost always trimmed with gold or silver, and a profusion of silk cord and buttons covers every article of his dress.

One striking difference between Madrid and Seville, consists in the number of ragged and wretched-looking people seen in the latter city. This is the almost invariable result of a hot climate, where labour is a disagreeable exertion, and where the temptations to labour are few. It is easy to live in Andalusia:—give a small loaf of bread to one of these ragged sons of idleness; he makes a hole in it, begs a little oil, which is not worth refusing, pours it into the hole, and dipping his slices of bread in it as he cuts round his loaf, he is set up for the day; and if he succeeds in getting a two-quarto piece, about one farthing, he can deliberate between the choice of a gaspacho, (the luxury of thousands), which only requires a little vinegar, oil, and onion,—or, of as many grapes as might furnish forth the desert of a Russian prince: he is therefore idle, because he has no incitement to be busy; and as for his rags and houselessness, these are scarcely felt to be evils in a country where the sun shines every day in the year.

The upper and middle ranks in Seville live more luxuriously, but not better than the inhabitants of Madrid. Things that are justly esteemed luxuries in Andalusia, would not be luxuries in Castile: the luxuries of the Sevillanos, are made luxuries by the climate—iced water, lemonade, oranges, pomegranates and prickly pears; a cool patio to retire to, a fountain and a bath; summer apartments nearest the ground, and winter apartments nearest the sun; these are all luxuries in the climate of Andalusia, and are even necessary to health and comfort. But even in his ordinary diet, the Andalusian has the advantage over the Castilian; it is true that he, like the inhabitant of the northern provinces, dines upon the eternal puchero; but then its ingredients are better in Andalusia than in Castile; the pigs are fed from the ilex nuts, and the vegetables of the south of Spain are perhaps the finest in the world.

The state of society in Seville, affords farther evidence of the difference between Castile and Andalusia. The true Spanish tertulia is far less frequent in Seville than in Madrid; and substantial entertainments are more general. In morals, the distinction is still greater; for, in Seville, intrigue in married life, is not, as in Castile, concealed from the husband: the Andalusian cortejo enjoys, at the same time, the good graces of the wife, and the apparent or real good will of the husband. Among all classes in Seville, morality is at the lowest possible ebb. It is almost a derision to a married woman, to have no cortejo; and a jest against an unmarried woman, to have no amante; and the gallantries of the latter, are not unfrequently carried as far as the gallantries of the former. It is forbidden to all women to enter the cathedral of Seville after sunset; but I have frequently seen this order disregarded, under circumstances too, of the most suspicious kind. The worst possible example is set by the churchmen: it is a common saying in Seville, that the reason why one sees so few pretty women in the streets, is, that they are all in the houses of the clergy; and those who have had the best opportunity of judging of the truth of this saying, have assured me, that such is the fact; and that it is impossible to enter the houses of the dignified clergy, without finding evidence of it.

The head of the church in Seville, the archbishop, is equally careless of the interests of religion and morality. He never resides in Seville, but most generally in some convent in the country, by which he saves the expense of living at home; and the whole revenues of his see, are sent by him to Portugal, to aid in supporting the party and interests of Don Miguel. Three years ago, the archbishop failed: finding himself in difficulties, he wrote to the king, requesting to know what was to be done; to which his majesty is said to have replied,—“do as I do, pay nobody.” At all events, the archbishop acted upon this advice, by whomsoever given: he promised to pay his creditors by instalments, in ten years, but no one has ever yet received a dollar. I am myself acquainted with a merchant to whom he owes a considerable sum; but the merchant told me, he should expose himself to persecution of various kinds, were he to proceed to extremities. Every archbishop and bishop is almost forced to incur debt upon his appointment to a see: the first year’s revenue belongs to the king, and the new bishop is therefore obliged to borrow money of the merchants, that he may be able to support his dignity the first year. The revenue of the archbishop of Seville is about 35,000l.

A very different man from the archbishop, is the Dean of Seville: he is ninety-eight years old; and his house being directly opposite to my lodgings, I had daily opportunities of observing the respect and love which his virtues have secured for him, and the constant acts of his beneficence. He literally gives away all that he has; and were it not for the kindness of those friends who know his character, he might often be in want of the necessaries of life. On the 31st of December, his steward waits upon him with his accounts for the year made up, and pays whatever surplus may remain; and the whole of this, he immediately distributes to those who are in want: it has sometimes happened that on the first of January, his housekeeper has borrowed a dollar from a neighbour, to defray household expenses. The income of the Dean is about 2500l. sterling.

I could hear nothing of the immorality of the convents within the city, though there are several without the walls,—one especially, a female convent,—said to be connected with the contrabandisters; making their convents depots for smuggled goods, and of course receiving a liberal share of the profits. Only three among the eighty-one convents give any thing to the poor, and two of these live upon charity themselves,—the Capuchins and Franciscans; the other that feeds the poor, is the Carthusian convent. Formerly, many more of the convents distributed alms; and, I understand, that since the limitation of convent charity, there has been a sensible diminution in the number of those who seemed to stand in need of it; a result that may easily be credited. Those convents which belong to the orders who live on charity, want for no luxury which their rules permit them to enjoy. I have more than once followed the footsteps of the Franciscan with his sack, in his morning peregrination through the Seville markets: one gave a handful of lettuces; another, a bunch of carrots; a third, a couple of melons, or a few pomegranates; a fourth, a loaf of bread; and I remarked, that every contribution was carefully picked, that the convent might have the best.

If vice degrade the manners of the upper and middle classes in Seville, crime of a darker turpitude disfigures the character and conduct of the lower orders. Scarcely a night passes without the commission of a murder; but these crimes are not perpetrated in cold blood, from malevolent passions; still less, from love of gain; they generally spring from the slightest possible causes. The Andalusian is not so abstemious as the Castilian; and the wine he drinks, is stronger: he has also a greater propensity for gambling, the fruitful engenderer of strife; and the climate has doubtless its influence upon his passions. “Will you taste with me?” an Andalusian will say to some associate with whom he has had some slight difference,—offering him his glass. “No, gracias,” the other will reply. The former, already touched with wine, will half drain his glass, and present it again, saying, “Do you not wish to drink with me?”—and if the other still refuses the proffered civility, it is the work of a moment to drain the glass to the dregs—to say, “How! not taste with me?” and to thrust the knife an Andalusian always carries with him, into the abdomen of the comrade who refused to drink with him. It is thus, and in other ways equally simple, that quarrel and murder disfigure the nightly annals of every town in Andalusia, and of the other provinces of the south of Spain. There is an hospital in Seville dedicated to the sole purpose of receiving wounded persons. I had the curiosity to visit it, and ascertained that during the past fourteen days, twenty-one persons had been received into the hospital wounded from stabs: they would not inform me how many of these had died.