But the fan! the magic fan! who shall describe its wonderful powers? Who can sound the depths of its mysteries? Every movement of this potent wand is fraught with happiness or misery. In their hands it positively speaks, and its gentle recognitions are far more winning than any assertions of the tongue. It is said to have a language, a sort of alphabet of its own, but that is doubtful. Its utterances are of the magnetic character, which need no interpretation, and are felt rather than learnt. The art of managing it was always to me an unfathomable science, and though I embraced every opportunity of becoming a proficient, and actually took two formal lessons, I failed utterly of success. It must be said, however, that my instructor had learnt by intuition, but unfortunately was not able to teach by the same method. I was always told there was only one way of opening it, yet there are certainly five, for the theory is almost as difficult as the practice. But having, by dint of hard study, acquired, as you fondly imagine, the requisite theoretical knowledge, you desire to see it embodied in action. Your instructor shows how the fingers are placed. You are then told to do "so"; whirr! goes the fan, and it is all over before your eyes have caught the first movement. A gentleman present at my discomfiture, consoled me by saying that he would not respect a man who could acquire the art; that in men's hands it was a practical instrument for putting the air in motion. The ladies certainly do not so regard it.
I had been apprehensive lest this costume, rendered so poetical by the descriptions of travelers and the dreams of romancers, were not the true secret of the admiration which I had formerly carried away across the Pyrenees, and that it was a reflected, semi-poetic, semi-romantic, at all events, unsubstantial conception. Such is not the case. On the present occasion the prevailing color, in accordance with the season was white, and the mantilla was replaced by a simple lace veil, so that there is certainly some external attraction independent of dress. I attribute it to the combination of personal beauty, such as the world cannot surpass, with a grace of movement, an innate, inalienable elegance of manner, which no education can give and no words describe. An Andaluza is born, not made. Not too tall and never dumpy (horrible word), her person is so exquisitely proportioned that, without some measure of comparison, you would form no opinion as to her real size. An elegant fullness preserves her alike from the scrawny penury of the English or the corpulency of the Italians. Her lofty brow justifies her sparkling wit, and the delicate organization of her feelings and intellect is in harmony with the finely chiseled features. Luxuriant masses of dark glossy hair, parted slightly on one side, and nobly arched eyebrows, are a fit setting to a rich southern complexion, not of sickly yellow, but of a clear olive tinge, through which the timid blood, with every emotion, mantles to the surface. The pride of her beauty is the large, lustrous, almond-shaped, velvety eye, half covered with silken lashes, as if to screen her admirers from the danger of being consumed; but when aroused into activity, flashing forth pride, interest, inexhaustible love, with a fire more irresistible than that of a thousand suns. Then it is that, with an imperious wave of the fan, she bids you plunge into a maelstrom of vipers, and you obey.
There is a widely diffused, but very erroneous belief among us that every Spaniard has perforce black eyes and a dark complexion. Such is far from being true, even in Andalusia. Ladies of the better class, who are not exposed to the sun or wind, have beautifully clear complexions, though brunette. In Ronda, blue eyes form the majority, and they are by no means uncommon in other provinces. But the Spanish blonde is still a Spaniard, and her type of beauty very different from the insipid combination which often passes under that name in the north. There is the same smothered fire, the same deep expression in the eye, the same richness of complexion, which, in union with raven tresses, form an exquisite picture. Light-haired persons, rubias, are rarer, and of course much admired to look at, though every one falls in love with their dark-haired rivals. Of the luxuriance and elegance of their hair the ladies are justly proud, and no pains are spared to render it as beautiful as possible. The time devoted to this object is sacred in all classes, and if, in response to an inquiry or request, the ominous reply is heard, "hombre! estamos ocupadas con el pelo," it is useless to remain. Nothing short of another invasion of the Moors could arouse them. During the civil war, Zumalacarregui, or Merino, for it is narrated of both, placed death for the men and loss of their hair for the women, upon the same footing, and found them equally efficacious punishments.
Spanish girls are taught to walk gracefully, too, as all girls should be, and since the narrowness of the streets prevents the general use of carriages, and the arms of gentlemen are seldom offered, and never accepted, they avoid falling into the tottering shuffle, which is produced by the opposite customs. The walk of the Seville ladies is something peculiar to Andalusia. That they take steps is firmly believed because required by the anatomical construction of mankind, but in their case the belief is the result of induction, not of ocular perception. They glide over the earth as though supported by unseen hands, and disappear from your sight ere you can believe that they are actually moving.
The Andalusian foot is a marvel, both for size and beauty. A lady will wear with ease the slipper of an ordinary girl of fourteen. If any artificial means are used, the pressure must be very slight, as the appearance is perfectly natural, notwithstanding the fact that they seldom adopt any other means of locomotion. The development of the English understanding is a subject of perpetual wonderment on the Guadalquivir, where they are accustomed to compare its covering to a twelve-oared boat.
The graceful walk of the Sevillians is not more peculiar to them than the noble carriage of the head, due, doubtless, in some degree, to the absence of those fragile yet cumbrous ornaments which force others to assume a stiff and constrained position. It gives them an air of haughtiness by no means disagreeable, however, as you are quite ready to admit their unapproachable superiority before they assert it. Every Andaluza has two points of beauty—fine eyes and hair. Then she may have a good complexion, and she is almost certain to be graceful. If to these she unite wit and cultivation, who are so daring as to deny her preeminence? Progress, perhaps mere change, is desirable in many things in Spain, but that Heaven may preserve her fair daughters from the hand of innovation is the prayer of native and foreigner alike. It is scarcely possible, that the best laid schemes of any power on earth could effect an improvement.
