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in Spain. The ladies meet, chat, and talk for an lings per diem, for which he gets one small room, hour in the afternoon; in the evening, the gentle- the use of a public sitting-room, and two meals men come in, and merely smoke their paper ciga- per diem, with weak wine ad libitum. rettes, and, perhaps, drink a glass of cold water In old Spanish houses there is generally a (but rarely): and so, with bright conversation, very cleverly contrived secret receptacle for and no expense or trouble to either master or money, akin to the “ secret drawer " of the oldservants, a great deal of simple pleasure is af- fashioned English desk; and even now this seforded, and all come satisfied, and drop off cret cupboard is much used, the Spanish idea of pleased and contented. Even to go so high in security being (an idea founded on the bitter exmiddle-class life as the regular weekly reunion perience of many years) to cage the windows in at Señor Castelar's modest house in Madrid, no iron bars, lock up the house at night, in winter viands are ever offered; the guests simply sit draw round one the family, look at the money, round the room of the great orator, smoke their and then: “Why, I am very safe ; all I love and paper cigarettes, and listen to his sparkling wit all I need is contained within the four walls of and brilliant conversation ; and thus the privilege my casa.” There is, I grieve to say, a vast deal of entertaining your friends is put within the of distrust of banks and government securities, reach of all.
and a great holding to the proverb, “ No hay Poverty in middle-class people is never a bar mas amigo que Dios, y un duro en el bolsillo" to seeing society; and poverty owes a debt to (i. e., “No friend save God, and a dollar in your Spanish customs. Here there is none of the pocket ”). cruel mortification carried on against decent pov And now with the middle class there is no erty as in England; the poor charity-school girl's banking of money; the bankers, to begin with, beautiful rich hair is not cropped and shorn. In give no interest, as a rule ; and just as in ScotEngland, poverty, I grant, has less physical suf- land, in the troubled year of 1650, the goldfering, and is better relieved, than in Spain, but smiths were the only bankers, so now in Spain it is far more insulted. In Spain, poverty has the gentry constantly hoard their money in their great suffering, but it has no insults to wound its own houses ; some put their jewelry and plate in feelings : all may be poor, one day; poverty is the montes de piedad, of which more anon. sympathized with ; poverty maintains its decent We have now fairly finished our sketch of the self-respect.
Spanish gentleman's or tradesman's house ; we And every one who has a chair and a brasero must rise at early morning to pass an ordinary can give a winter evening's party, and meet their day with a family of the class which I am atfriends in social intercourse.
tempting to describe. I come to speak of one more, and that an The Spaniards are, as a rule, exceedingly important, use of the copa, or brasero : a wire early risers, the chief business of shopping being cage is put over the brass pan of glowing char- necessarily, owing to the scorching heats by day, coal, and it is lifted into the bed, after the fash- performed in the early morning : at 4 A. M. the ion of the English warming-pan : shifted about dawn-the lovely, cool, even chilly madrugada from side to side, the sheets are soon thoroughly of Spain-breaks out dimly, the last sound of the warmed. The comfort of this to an invalid in sereno's, or night-watchman's, cry has died away the icy cold of Madrid or Valladolid can hardly along the voiceless street—then the family arise, be told. Every good housewife buys, each week, the ladies to dress, the men to smoke the mornat the door, a packet, costing two and a half ing cigarette, and all to drink a cup of chocolate pence, of dried lavender-flowers, and each day and eat a fragment of toast or sponge-cake. sprinkles a certain portion upon the glowing Ere five o'clock has struck, the streets are charcoal ; thus the whole room is perfumed, and thronged; the servants are all en route, basket smells much like a church where the incense has on arm, to buy the day's provisions at the fruitlately been swung.
market, the ladies of the party are all fussing It is in this way, too, that the close room of about, putting on the “customary suit of solemn the invalid is fumigated, the pan being put on black," for is not the misa, or early service-bell, his bed, and the fumes of the aromatic laven- already clanging out from the old, gray, timeder playing round him like a cloud, and giving honored church-tower ? warmth, sweetness of perfume, and relief to the A more beautiful sight, or one more suggesbronchial tubes.
tive, than a Spanish street-corner at 6 A. M. I As regards house-rent, for thirty-six pounds have never yet beheld. Two streams are meetper annum a good one-story house (unfurnished) ing in the crowded, sunlit, joyous streets—the may be had, in Andalucian towns, and a piso, or poor toilers and the stately, dark-robed dames flat, for two pounds per month. For living at a and their daughters, and the husband or son of lodging-house the guest pays about eight shil- the family. They each are going on a different
errand, each to a different scene and place—the at 6 A. M. a copa of aguardiente, at 12 their breakgentry to church, the servants to the plaza de fast, at 4 P. M. just a “snack" and a cigar, and fruta ; and the two sides of the religious life, at 6, on their return home, their supper. working and praying, are finely contrasted.
However, modern middle-class Spain breakWith lustrous, dreamy eyes, with stately step, fasts at II A. M., and dines at about 5 or 6 P. M. with gilt-leaved prayer-book in hand, with rich Dines-breakfasts—-lunches ! did I say? If silk dress of deepest black, and black mantilla, these words convey to my reader's ears the idea the lithe but stately Spanish ladies glide over the of strictly fixed hours, of papa standing sharpenrugged stones on their way to the misa at the ing his scythe at the end of the table to mow early morn in the perfumed, incense-scented down beef in sheaves, mamma pegging into some church, in the crumbling, hoary square, in the unhappy child who comes in with a tumbled lowly street.
pinafore, a “grace" before meat that absolutely Not like the ostentatious religion of the Eng- means nothing (Spaniards say, “God only listens lish is this Spanish phase of Christian worship. to one grace, that is, the sending a slice of the The English worshiper, donning his or her reli- dinner to the poor”; and I think they say truly), gion, just as he dons his Sunday attire, presses and a “grace after meat" that means less than toward his pew, at glare of eleven-o'clock sun, nothing, but before the saying of which no one sits out a two hours' service, observes that “ Mr. may dare to move from table-if my words conSo-and-so wasn't there," and criticises the ser- jure up any such picture before my reader's eyes, mon—thus breaking at once the first rule of let them be immediately dismissed. Christianity, “ Judge not.”
The perfect ease of the family life, even if, as The Spaniard, in plain mourning-suit or dress, I believe, it is too often carried to excess, binds just pushes humbly aside the curtain of the the members of one family together with, literchurch-door, and kneels to pray upon the lowly ally, “cords of a man.” Nowhere, as in Spain, estera, or the stone-flagged floor, and, having do the big sons so love and seek their seat at prayed, slips out, wholly unseen and unobserved their father's simple table, and love to be with in the somber gloom and darkness of the church. their mother and sisters.
The Spaniard listens to, but forbears to True, too often they are men who ought to criticise, the preacher and his words.
be up and doing; winning honor in the army or The Spaniard makes religious worship a part navy, toiling in the counting-house, felling trees of his daily life.
in the colonies, or delving for gold in far 'Frisco. The Spaniard has no “pew" or“ sitting "; But I am bound, in writing, to put the lights as he kneels beside his shoemaker, his shoeblack, well as the shadows before my readers, and, deephis field-laborer, his costermonger, his milliner,' ly as I lament to see “ Young Spain" so often and in God's house, at least to all appearance, all content to live upon his aged father's savings, yet are equal.
I must not disguise the fact of the great affection The Spaniard is not locked into a building and amiability that exist. for two hours, as is the fashion in English It is breakfast-time; the aguador, or waterchurches : he goes in, kneels down, and slips out carrier, has filled the barrels, and the table is unobserved when his heart is satisfied and his“ laid "—with a snowy cloth, with porous Andujar feelings have expended themselves in his act of pitchers of classic shape; with a melon rolling worship.
here and there; knives, forks, plates, put on The stream of toilers has met the stream of without any regard to order or arrangement; prayers, and Mary and Martha separate, until bunches of white and purple grapes, and a few breakfast-time, when servant and master meet bottles of red astringent wine; the red wine, like again.
Burgundy, of Val de Peñas; the amber-colored The hours of meals with the Spanish families wine of Almera (grown in the slopes around differ slightly; but, with all, there are two chief Albuñol); the red wine of Cataluña; or, permeals (to say nothing of the cup of early choco- haps, the white wine of Seville. Bread lies, in late) in the day. At 11 A. M. or 12 is the al- spiral roscas, or in French rolls, or in teleras muerzo, or breakfast, and at 4 or 6 P. M. the co- (long, thick staves of coarse bread), all about the mida, or dinner. A few years since the custom table; a few aromatic flowers, bought in the was (and it prevails now, in old pueblos and with plaza, stand in the midst. old families) to breakfast at 9.30 A. M. and dine An old man comes in-a servant-girl, with at 3, and have a trifle of supper at 9 P. M. bare arms, and in undress uniform, comes in.
In Cataluña the manufacturing poor have Well, they look round-the family have not come almuerzo at 8.30 A. M., merienda, or luncheon, to table. “ Bueno; paciencia !”_"Well; paat 12, and comida, or cena, at 6 or 6.30 P. M.; tience!" they say, and the man lights his paper while the peasantry in most parts of Spain have cigarette, and leans against the door.
The mother and father, and one or two daugh- or one, and it is wellnigh time to lie down, if in ters of the family, come in, and take their places; summer, in the darkened alcoba, and rest for a the father quietly takes the melon before him, and few hours, or sit down and make dresses for the cuts it into slices, passing the plate round from coming Feast-day. The dinner or comida is but one to the other; all are wonderfully silent, re a repetition of the almuerzo or breakfast; all spectful, self-controlled ; the household seems so have good appetites, both for the one and for the peaceful, so patriarchal in its simple primitiveness, other, and the girl, so delicate, in chiseled feathat the stranger feels out of place; it is another, tures and pallid complexion and graceful form, purer, older world into which he has entered; all will quite surprise you by her healthy appetite so simple, so natural, so self-respectful, no servant, and the easy naturalness with which, with a girlism, no bells, no waiting at table of flunky or beaming face, ever contented, joyous, and overfootman, or awkward cub just caught from the flowing with kindness, she takes the fruits of the stable-yard.
earth, and the simple meal. The sons saunter in, cigar in mouth, but rev As to complaining of “a bad dinner," that erent toward their parents, and, saluting them with is a thing simply unheard of; there is no need the morning kiss of affection and of peace, take for a cook to know more than how to guisar a their slice of melon.
stew—that is enough for these simple and unsoThen the soup, or caldo, is placed carefully phisticated, but most refined and delicate, chilon the table, anywhere, and each takes a plate- dren of Nature. ful; then comes the cocida, for the richest fami And, dinner over, there is the paseo, or walk, lies live much as the poor, and, in true, natural in the cool, dusky evening, in the accustomed Spain, there are no gourmets or gourmands; spot; and the men go to the Casino, smoke, then comes, as I have said, the cocida—meat drink coffee, and talk politics. Then, at night, stewed to rags, from which the caldo has been early, all repair to bed—the bed with its most taken, with rice, and slices of every sort of stewed costly worked linen, its fringes of lace; for even vegetable, of the luscious, aromatic, semi-pungent the humblest peasant, with a mud-floor, will, like vegetables of the country. A little dish of sau- the Albanians, have beautiful and ornate bedsage, or of bacon, follows; then bread and linen. cheese, and then fruit again, and the men drink You will, in this slight sketch of middle-class a little, but very little, wine, the women only domestic life, have been struck by its three leadwater. A cup of coffee and a cigarette follow; ing features—its frugality, its simplicity, and the meal is over. The clock goes half-past twelve its naturalness.
HUGH JAMES ROSE (Temple Bar).
FTER describing at length, and with much jects which the scene is about to represent. At
minuteness, the stage and scenic arrange- the back of the inclosure hangs a great curtain, ments of the Paris Opera-House, Saint-Preux, in painted in like manner, and nearly always pierced “ La Nouvelle Héloise,” adds that a prodigious and torn, that it may represent at a little distance number of machines are employed to put the gulfs on the earth or holes in the sky. Every whole spectacle in motion, that he has been in one who passes behind this stage, or touches the vited several times to examine them, but that he curtain, produces a sort of earthquake, which has is “not curious to learn how little things are per- a double effect. The sky is made of certain formed by great means." The little things, how- bluish rags, suspended from poles, or from cords, ever, of the stage, have always possessed much as linen may be seen hung out to dry in any interest for theatre-goers; and both in “La washerwoman's yard. The sun, for it is seen Nouvelle Héloise" and in his “Musical Diction- here sometimes, is a lighted torch in a lantern. ary,” Rousseau himself, in spite of Saint-Preux's The cars of the gods and goddesses are comdisclaimer, devotes much attention to them. posed of four rafters, secured and hung on a “Imagine," writes Julie's lover to the object of thick rope in the form of a swing or seesaw; his affection, “an inclosure fifteen feet broad, between the rafters is a coarse plank, on which and long in proportion; this inclosure is the the- the gods sit down, and in front hangs a piece of atre. On its two sides are placed at intervals coarse cloth, well dirtied, which acts the part of screens, on which are curiously painted the ob- clouds for the magnificent car. One may see to
ward the bottom of the machine two or three tors, and painters, are said to have been marvelfoul candles, badly snuffed, which, while the ous. Many of the Italian theatres had been congreater personage dementedly presents himself structed so as to admit of the most elaborate swinging in his seesaw, fumigate him with in- spectacular representations. cense worthy of his dignity. The agitated sea is M. Edouard Fournier, contrasting in his composed of long angular lanterns of cloth and “ Vieux Neuf 'the poverty of our modern stage blue pasteboard, strung on parallel spits, which representations with the richness by which those are turned by little blackguard boys. The thun- of ancient times were distinguished, sets forth der is a heavy cart, rolled over an arch, and is that the Farnesino Theatre at Parma, built for not the least agreeable instrument heard at our dramas, tournaments, and spectacles of all kinds, opera. The flashes of lightning are made of contained at least fifty thousand spectators. Serpinches of resin thrown on a flame, and the vandoni was for some time scene-painter and thunder is a cracker at the end of a fuse. The decorator at the Opera of Paris; but a stage theatre is, moreover, furnished with little square which (as Rousseau, speaking through the meditraps, which, opening at the end, announce that um of Saint-Preux, has told us) was fifteen feet the demons are about to issue from their cave. broad, and long in proportion,” could not afford When they have to rise into the air, little demons the Italian artist fit scope for his designs; and he of stuffed brown cloth are substituted for them, accordingly left Paris for Dresden, where Augusor sometimes real chimney-sweeps, who swing tus of Saxony (Mr. Carlyle's “ Augustus the about suspended on ropes, till they are majesti- Strong") enabled him to work on a grand scale, cally lost in the rags of which I have spoken.” and to produce pieces in which four hundred
Contemptible, however, as toward the end of mounted horsemen could maneuvre with ease. the eighteenth century was the character of stage It was not until three quarters of a century decorations, both at the Paris Opera and the later that horses, or even a single horse, were desComédie Française—and doubtless, therefore, at tined to appear on the boards of the Paris Operanearly all the French theatres—the art of pre- House. To Meyerbeer, or perhaps to Meyerbeer senting theatrical pieces suitably and magnific and Scribe conjointly, belongs the doubtful honor cently was not at that time by any means in its of having introduced live horses in the musical infancy. It was rather in its decadence.
drama. But, long before Marguerite de Valois During the reign of Louis XIV., the sun and rode on to the stage in the opera of “ Les Huguemoon were so well represented at the French nots,” a real horse had, in the year 1682, appeared Opera that, as Saint-Evremond informs us, the before an ordinary theatrical audience in the charAmbassador of Guinea, assisting at one of its acter of Pegasus. As poets, according to an inperformances, leaned forward in his box when human creed, make better verses for being kept those orbs appeared, and religiously saluted them. without money, so it was held that the unhappy In the days before Gluck and Mozart, the Opera Pegasus ought, until the end of his performance, at Vienna was chiefly remarkable for its size and to be deprived of oats. The sensation of hunger for the splendor of its scenery; and in a well- gave, it is said, “ a certain ardor" to the moveknown description of an operatic performance at ments of the poetic courser; and the sound of Vienna, addressed by Lady Mary Wortley Mon- corn shaken in a sieve had the effect of making the tagu to Pope, we are told that “nothing of the proud but famished steed neigh, snort, and stamp kind was ever more magnificent,” that "the dec- in a style thought worthy of Pegasus himself. orations and habits cost the Emperor thirty thou The white horse which figured in the first sand pounds sterling," and that “the stage, built representation of “Les Huguenots,” at our Royal over a very large canal, divided at the beginning Italian Opera, without being precisely a Pegasus, of the second act into two parts, discovering the had often served as hack to one of the greatest water, on which there immediately came from of English writers. It was, or had been, the different parts two fleets of little gilded vessels property of Mr. Thackeray, and answered to the that gave the representation of a naval fight." name of “Becky Sharp."
When opera began to be treated seriously as From the work in which Servandoni in the a form of musical art, these spectacular vanities eighteenth century introduced at the Dresden were abandoned. But, in Rousseau's time, the Theatre four hundred horsemen to the one-horse French Opera was remakable neither for its sce- opera of “ Les Huguenots " the step is indeed a nery nor for its singing. In the eighteenth cen- long one. Nor does it seem to mark a progress; tury the Italians already thought more of the though, as a matter of fact, the history of the music of their operas than of the decorations to theatrical spectacle is something quite apart from which, at an earlier period, they had accorded that of the musical or of the poetical drama. the first place. The stage-effects of Servandoni Opera has never profited by being represented and Brunio, who were at once architects, sculp- with great scenic magnificence, nor by the at
tempts so frequently made to increase the interest and spoken to by the frequenters of these seats.
At a Paris theatre an attempt was once made the performance was actually going on, could not to give reality to a pastoral scene by bringing on but be attended with many inconveniences, one to the stage a flock of live sheep, which, however, of which is mentioned by Mrs. Bellamy in a wellfrightened by the lights and by the clamor of the au- known passage of her memoirs. A Mr. St. dience, lost no time in going astray, so that at the Leger, as Mrs. Bellamy passed before him on the second representation it was found necessary to stage at Dublin, kissed her on the neck, and rereplace the live sheep hy pasteboard imitations. ceived a box on the ears in return. Lord ChesThe insufficiency of the stage-arrangements
terfield rose in his box and applauded. His exat the Paris Opera, when Rousseau was expatiat- ample was followed by the whole house; and, at ing on the artistic poverty of that establishment, the end of the act, Major Macartney, deputed by may be explained in some measure not only by the Viceroy, waited on Mr. St. Leger, and rethe smallness of the stage, but by the manner in quested him to make a public apology. This inwhich it was blocked up on both sides by the cident had an important effect in bringing about aristocratic section of the audience, who sat in a reform which had long been advocated. rows on both sides of the singers, while the baser Many reforms or innovations, supposed to be portion of the public stood in the pit, which, un- of the present day, are but returns to ancient til a comparatively late period, was unprovided practices. There is much in Herr Wagner's with seats. Often the occupants of the benches musical system-including the use of horses on on the stage took quite a different view of the the stage—which is not by any means so new as representation to that formed by the upstanding is generally supposed. There was novelty at one spectators in the parterre; and ideas were some- time in bringing the orchestra before the public, times exchanged between the two great divisions instead of keeping it out of sight, as was done in of the public with an irritating effect, and with the early days of the drama, and quite lately at results which sometimes took the form of open the Wagner festival of Baireuth. The custom, violence. The actor or singer, under this absurd too, adopted at Baireuth, of proclaiming the aparrangement, stood in the midst of his audience; proaching representation by sound of trumpet, and when, as sometimes happened, the remarks though apparently new in the present day, is not made by those on the stage induced him to turn so new as the system of distributing programmes, round, he was accused of showing disrespect to which dates only from the time of Dryden. In the public in front of the orchestra. At times, France the custom of naming the artists in the under this arrangement, a piece was hissed by bills of the performance is still more modern, beone division, applauded by the other; it was not ing not quite a hundred years old. On the 9th of always the aristocratic section which allowed it- September, 1779, the actors of Paris held a meetself in the right. “Le Grondeur," by Brueys and ing, at which they adopted a petition, begging Palaparet, was received with hisses from the the Mayor of Paris not to force them to print stage, with applause from the pit. Molière's their names on the programmes. It was held
Ecole des Femmes,” which delighted the pit, by the profession to be for the advantage of found no favor in the eyes of the too fastidious, theatres generally that singers and actors should but not sufficiently intelligent, patrons of the remain anonymous; for if, in an important part, seats on the stage, one of whom, at each fresh a favorite artist was to be replaced on a given burst of laughter, is said to have exclaimed, with evening by an artist of no great popularity, the a shrug of the shoulders : “ Laugh away ! laugh public, it was argued, would not be prevented by away! you fools in the pit !"
such a substitution from attending. It was not The benches on the stage of the Paris Opera until 1791 that the Paris Opera adopted the cuswere abolished, at the instance of the Count de tom of announcing the performers' names. HowLauraguais, who, it has been surmised, may have ever the general interests of the stage may have felt annoyed at Sophie Arnould's being stared at, been affected, it can scarcely be said that artists,