_Seville, ---- 1801._
My residence in this town, after visiting Olbera, was short and
unpleasant. The yellow-fever, which had some months before appeared
at Cadiz, began to show itself in our large suburb of Triana, on the
other side of the Guadalquivir. As no measures were taken to prevent
communication with Cadiz, it is supposed that the infection was
brought by some of the numerous seafaring people that inhabit the
vicinity of the river. The progress of the malady was slow at first,
and confined to one side of the street where it began. Meetings of
all the physicians were convened by the chief magistrates, who,
though extremely arbitrary in matters of daily occurrence, are,
in Spain, very timid and dilatory on any extraordinary emergency.
Unconscious of the impending danger, the people flocked to these
meetings to amuse themselves at the expense of our doctors, who are
notoriously quarrelsome and abusive when pitted against each other.
A few of the most enlightened among them ventured to declare that
the fever was infectious; but their voice was drowned in the clamour
of a large majority who wished to indulge the stupid confidence of
the inhabitants. The disease in the mean time crossed the river; and
following the direction of the street where it originally appeared
at Triana--now quite overrun by the infection--began its ravages
within the ancient walls of our town. It was already high time to
take alarm, and symptoms of it were shewn by the chief authorities.
Their measures, however, cannot fail to strike you as perfectly
original. No separation of the infected from the healthy part of the
town: no arrangement for confining and relieving the sick poor. The
governor who, by such means, had succeeded in stopping the progress
of the fever would have been called to account for the severity of
his measures, and his success against the infection turned into a
demonstration that it never existed. Anxious, therefore, to avoid
every questionable step in circumstances of such magnitude, the civil
authorities wisely resolved to make an application to the archbishop
and chapter, for the solemn prayers called _Rogativas_, which are
used in times of public affliction. This request being granted
without delay, the _Rogativa_ was performed at the cathedral for nine
consecutive days, after sunset.
The gloom of that magnificent temple, scarcely broken by the light of
six candles on the high altar, and the glimmering of the lamps in the
aisles, combined with the deep and plaintive tones of forty singers
chanting the penitential psalms, impressed the throng of supplicants
with the strongest feelings, which superstition can graft upon fear
and distress.
When the people observed the infection making a rapid progress in
many parts of the town, notwithstanding the due performance of the
usual prayers, they began to cast about for a more effectual method
of obtaining supernatural assistance. It was early suggested by many
of the elderly inhabitants, that a fragment of the true Cross, or
_Lignum Crucis_, one of the most valuable relics possessed by the
cathedral of Seville, should be exhibited from the lofty tower called
_Giralda_; for they still remembered, when, at the view of that
miraculous splinter, myriads of locusts which threatened destruction
to the neighbouring fields, rose like a thick cloud, and conveyed
themselves away, probably to some infidel country. The _Lignum
Crucis_, it was firmly believed, would, in like manner, purify the
atmosphere, and put an end to the infection. Others, however, without
any disparagement to the holy relic, had turned their eyes to a
large wooden crucifix, formerly in great repute, and now shamefully
neglected, on one of the minor altars of the Austin Friars, without
the gates of the town. The effectual aid given by that crucifix in
the plague of 1649 was upon record. This wonderful image had, it
seems, stopped the infection, just when one half of the population
of Seville had been swept away; thus evidently saving the other half
from the same fate. On this ground, and by a most natural analogy,
the hope was very general, that a timely exhibition of the crucifix
through the streets, would give instant relief to the town.[27]
[27] See Note H.
Both these schemes were so sound and rational, that the chief
authorities, unwilling to shew an undue partiality to either, wisely
determined to combine them into one great _lustration_. A day was,
accordingly, fixed for a solemn procession to conduct the crucifix
from the convent to the cathedral, and to ascend the tower for the
purpose of _blessing_ the four cardinal winds with the _Lignum
Crucis_. On that day, the chapter of the cathedral, attended by
the civil governor, the judges, the inquisitors, and the town
corporation, repaired to the convent of Saint Augustin, and, having
placed the crucifix upon a moveable stage covered with a magnificent
canopy, walked before it with lighted candles in their hands, while
the singers, in a mournful strain, repeated the names of the saints
contained in the Catholic litany, innumerable voices joining, after
every invocation in the accustomed response--_Ora pro nobis_. Arrived
at the cathedral, the image was exposed to public adoration within
the presbytery, or space reserved for the ministering clergy, near
the high altar. After this the dean, attended by the chapter, the
inferior ministers of the church, and the singers, moved in solemn
procession towards the entrance of the tower, and, in the same
order ascended the five-and-twenty inclined planes, which afford a
broad and commodious access to the open belfry of that magnificent
structure. The worship paid to any fragment of the true Cross is next
in degree to that which is due to the consecrated host. On the view
of the priest in his robes at one of the four central arches of the
majestic steeple, the multitude, who had crowded to the neighbourhood
of the cathedral from all parts of the city, fell upon their knees,
their eyes streaming with tears: tears, indeed, which that unusual
sight would have drawn from the weak and superstitious on any
other occasion, but which, in the present affliction, the stoutest
heart could hardly repress. An accidental circumstance heightened
the impressiveness of the scene. The day, one of the hottest of
an Andalusian summer, had been overcast with electric clouds. The
priest had scarcely begun to make the sign of the cross with the
golden vase which contains the _Lignum Crucis_, when one of the
tremendous thunderstorms, so awful in southern climates, burst upon
the trembling multitude. A few considered this phenomenon as a proof
that the public prayers were heard, and looked upon the lightning as
the instrument which was to disperse the cause of the infection.
But the greatest number read in the frowns of the sky the unappeased
anger of Heaven, which doomed them to drain the bitter cup that was
already at their lips. Alas! they were not deceived. That doom had
been sealed when Providence allowed ignorance and superstition to fix
their dwelling among us; and the evils which my countrymen feared
from a preternatural interposition of the avenging powers above,
were ready to arise as the natural consequences of the means they
themselves had employed to avert them. The immense concourse from all
parts of the town had, probably, condensed into a focus the scattered
seeds of infection. The heat, the fatigue, the anxiety of a whole day
spent in this striking, though absurd, religious ceremony, had the
most visible and fatal effect on the public health. Eight and forty
hours after the procession, the complaint had left but few houses
unvisited. The deaths increased in a tenfold proportion, and at the
end of two or three weeks the daily number was from two to three
hundred.
Providence spared me and my best friend by the most unforeseen
combination of circumstances. Though suffering under an obstinate
ague, _Leandro_--so he is called at our private club--had determined
not to quit his college, at the head of which he was placed for that
year. His family, on the other hand, had for some time resided at
Alcalá de Guadaíra, a village beautifully situated within twelve
miles of Seville. Alarmed at the state of the town, and unwilling to
leave my friend to perish, either by the infection, or the neglect to
which the general consternation exposed an invalid, I prevailed upon
him to join his family, and attended him thither. This was but a few
days before the religious ceremony which I have described from the
narrative of eye-witnesses. It was my intention to have returned to
Seville; but the danger was now so imminent, that it would have been
madness to encounter it without necessity. Thus a visit which I meant
for a week, was inevitably prolonged to six months.
For you, however, who love detail in the description of this hitherto
little known country, my time was not spent in vain. Yet I must begin
by a fact which will be of more interest to my old friend, Doctor
----, than yourself.
Alcalá de Guadaíra is a town containing a population of two thousand
inhabitants, and standing on a high hilly spot to the northeast of
Seville. The greatest part of the bread consumed in this city comes
daily from Alcalá, where the abundant and placid stream of the
Guadaíra, facilitates the construction of water-mills. Many of the
inhabitants being bakers, and having no market but Seville, were
under the necessity of repairing thither during the infection. It is
not with us as in England, where every tradesman practically knows
the advantages of the division of labour, and is at liberty, to
consult his own convenience in the sale of his articles. The bakers,
the butchers, the gardeners, and the farmers, are here obliged to
sell in separate markets, where they generally spend the whole day
waiting for customers. Owing to this regulation of the police, about
sixty men, and double that number of mules, leave Alcalá every day
with the dawn, and stand till the evening in two rows, inclosed with
iron railings, at the _Plaza del Pan_. The constant communication
with the people from all parts of the town, and so long an exposure
to the atmosphere of an infected place, might have been supposed
powerful enough to communicate the disease. We, certainly, were in
daily apprehension of its appearance at Alcalá. So little, however,
can we calculate the effects of unknown causes, that of the people
that thus braved the contagion, only one, who passed the night in
Seville, caught the disease and died. All the others, no less than
the rest of the village, continued to enjoy the usual degree of
health, which, probably owing to its airy situation, is excellent at
all times.
The daily accounts we received from our city, independent of the
danger to which we believed ourselves exposed, were such as would
cast a gloom over the most selfish and unfeeling. Superstition,
however, as if the prospect had not been sufficiently dark and
dismal, was busy among us, increasing the terrors which weighed
down the minds of the people. Two brothers, both clergymen,
wealthy, proud, conceited of the jargon they mistook for learning,
and ambitious of power under the cloak of zeal, had, upon the
first appearance of the fever, retreated to Alcalá, where they
kept a country-house. Two more odious specimens of the pampered,
thorough-bred, full-grown Spanish bigot, never appeared in the ranks
of the clergy. The eldest, a dignitary of the church, was a selfish
devotee, whose decided taste for good living, and mortal aversion
to discomfort, had made him calculate with great nicety how, by an
economy of pleasure in this world, he might secure a reasonable share
of it in the next. But whatever degree of self-denial was necessary
to keep him from gross misconduct, he amply repaid himself in the
enjoyment of control over the consciences and conduct of others.
From the comparative poverty of the parish priests, and the shade
into which they are thrown by the upper clergy, the power of the
first is so limited, that the most bigoted and violent among them can
give but little trouble to the laity. The true priest of old times is
only to be found among those ecclesiastics, who to a dignified office
join that degree of fanaticism which makes men conceive themselves
commissioned by Heaven to weed the world of evil, and tear up by the
roots whatever offends their privileged and infallible eyes. Thus it
was, for instance, that the holy personage at Alcalá claimed and
exercised a right to exclude from church such females as, by a showy
dress, were apt to disturb the abstracted, yet susceptible minds of
the clergy. The lady of a judge was, within my recollection, turned
by this proud bigot out of the cathedral of Seville, in the presence
of a multitude assembled for the ceremonies of the Passion-week. The
husband, whose displeasure would have brought ruin on a more humble
individual, was obliged to devour this insult in silence. It should
be observed, by the way, that as the walking-dress of the Spanish
females absolutely precludes immodesty, the conduct of this religious
madman admits no excuse or palliation. Yet this is so far from being
a singular instance, that, what sumptuary laws would never be able
to accomplish, the rude and insolent zeal of a few priests has fully
obtained in every part of Spain. Our females, especially those of
the better classes, never venture to church in any dress but such as
habit has made familiar to the eyes of the zealots.
Whatever be the feelings that produce it, there is, in Spain, a
sort of standing crusade against the fair sex, which our priests,
except such as have been secretly gained over to the enemy, carry
on incessantly, though not with the same vigour, at all times. The
main subject of contention is a right claimed by the clergy to
regulate the dress of the ladies, and prevent the growth of such
arts of charming as might endanger the peace of the church. Upon
the appearance of a new fashion, the “drum ecclesiastic” never
fails to sound the war-note. Innumerable are the sermons I heard
in my younger days against silk shoes--for the Spanish females
have the extravagance to use them out of doors--the wearing of
which, especially embroidered with silk or gold, was declared by
the soundest divines to be a _mortal sin_. Patience, however, and
that watchful perseverance with which Nature has armed the weaker
sex against the tyranny of the stronger, have gradually obtained a
toleration for silk shoes, while taste has extenuated the sin by
banishing the embroidery. Yet the Demon of Millinery had lately set
up another stumbling-block, by slily suggesting to the ladies that
their petticoats were monstrous long, and concealed those fairy feet
and ankles which are the pride of Andalusia. The petticoats shrunk
first by barleycorns; half an inch was then pared off by some bolder
sempstress, till at length the ground, the former place of safety for
consecrated eyes, was found thick set with snares. In vain have the
most powerful preachers thundered against this abomination; nor did
it avail that some of our bishops, deeming the occasion worthy of
their interference, grasped the long-neglected pen to enter a most
solemn protest against the _profaneness_ of the female dress. But the
case seemed hopeless. A point gained upon petticoats was sure to be
lost on top-knots; and when the pious were triumphing on the final
subjection of projecting stays, a pin threw them into utter confusion
by altering its position on the orthodox neck-kerchief.
Often had some great calamity been foretold from the pulpit as the
punishment of the incorrigible perverseness of our females; and, on
the first appearance of the fever, there was but little doubt among
the chosen few as to its real cause. Many a stitch was undone at
Seville, and many a flounce torn off, by the same pretty hand that,
but a few days before, had distributed its foldings with a conscious
feeling of its future airiness and light flutterings. The pin,
which, in Spain, forces the cambric kerchief to do, both morning and
evening, the transient morning duty of your ruffs and spencers--that
mysterious pin which vibrates daily at the toilette under the
contending influence of vanity and delicacy--the pin, in short,
which, on our females, acts as the infallible barometer of devotion,
had risen to the highest point of _dryness_, without, alas! checking
the progress of the disease.
Our two divines, fearful of being swept away with the guilty,
were, at this time, perfectly outrageous in their zeal to bring
the bakers’ wives at Alcalá to a due sense of the evil influence
of their glaring, bushy top-knots and short petticoats. Having,
therefore, with little ceremony to the vicar, taken possession of
the parish church, they began a course of preaching for nine days,
known by the name of _Novena_, a definite number which, with many
other superstitions, has been applied to religious rites among the
Catholics since the times of Roman paganism.
Most of the Spanish villages possess some miraculous image--generally
of the Virgin Mary--which is the _palladium_ of the inhabitants.
These tutelar deities are of a very rude and ancient workmanship,
as it seems to have been the case with their heathen prototypes.
The “Great Diana” of the _Alcalaians_ is a small, ugly, wooden
figure, nearly black with age, and the smoke of the lamp which burns
incessantly before it, dressed up in a tunic and mantle of silver
or gold tissue, and bearing a silver crown. It is distinguished
from the innumerable host of wooden virgins by the title of _Virgen
del Aguila_--“the Virgin of the Eagle,” and is worshipped on a high
romantic spot, where stood a high fortress of the Moors, of which
large ruins are still visible. A church was erected, probably soon
after the conquest of Andalusia, on the area of the citadel. A
spring-well of the most delicious water is seen within the precincts
of the temple, to which the natives resort for relief in all sorts
of distempers. The extreme purity of both air and water, on that
elevated spot, may indeed greatly contribute to the recovery of
invalids, for which the Virgin gets all the credit.
The _Novena_, which was to avert the infection from the village,
would have been inefficient without the presence of the _Eagle_
patroness, to whom it was dedicated. The image was, accordingly,
brought down to the parish church in a solemn procession. The eldest
_Missionary_--for such priests as preach, not for a display of
eloquence, but the conversion of sinners, assume that title among
us--having a shrill, disagreeable voice, and being apt, when he
addressed the people, to work himself into a feverish excitement
approaching to madness, generally devolved that duty on his brother,
while he devoted himself to the confessional. The brother is, indeed,
cast in the true mould of a popular preacher, such as can make a
powerful impression on the lower classes of Spain. His person is
strong, his countenance almost handsome, his voice more loud than
pleasing. He has, in fact, all the characteristics of an Andalusian
_Majo_: jet black passionate eyes, a shining bluish beard darkening
his cheeks from within an inch of his long eye-lashes, and a
swaggering gait which, in the expressive idiom of the country, gives
such as move with it, the name of _Perdonavidas_--Life sparers, as
if other people owed their lives to the mercy, or contempt of these
heroes. The effects of his preaching were just what people expect
on similar occasions. A Missionary feels baffled and disappointed
when he is not interrupted by groans, and some part of the female
audience will not go into hysterics. If he has a grain of spirit
about him, such a perverse indifference nettles him into a furious
passion, and he turns the insensibility of his hearers into a
visible proof of their reprobate state. Thus it often happens,
that, the people measuring their spiritual danger by the original
dulness or incomprehensibility of the sermon, the final triumph of
the missionary is in exact proportion to his absurdity. To make
these wild discourses more impressive, as well as to suit the
convenience of the labouring classes, they are commonly delivered
after sunset. Our orator, it is true, omitted the exhibition of a
soul in hell-flames, which a few years ago was regularly made from
the pulpit in a transparent picture; but he worked up the feelings of
the audience by contrivances less disgusting and shocking to common
sense. Among others he fixed a day for collecting all the children of
the town under seven years of age, before the image of the Virgin.
The parents, as well as all others who had attained the age of moral
responsibility, were declared to be unworthy of addressing themselves
in supplication, and therefore excluded from the centre of the
church, which was reserved for the throng of innocent suppliants.
When the first period of nine days had been spent in this mockery
of common sense and religion, the fertile minds of our missionaries
were not at a loss to find a second course of the same pious mummery,
and so on till the infection had ceased at Seville. The preservation
of the village from the fever which, more or less, had existed for
three or four months in the neighbouring towns, you will easily
believe, was attributed by the preachers to their own exertions.
The only good effect, however, which I observed, in consequence of
their sermons, was the increased attendance of the male part of the
population at the _Rosario de Madrugada_--the Dawn Rosary--one of
the few useful and pleasing customs which religion has introduced in
Spain.
It is an established practice in our country towns to awake the
labouring population before the break of day, that they may
be early in readiness to begin their work, especially in the
corn-fields, which are often at the distance of six or eight miles
from the labourers’ dwellings. Nothing but religion, however, could
give a permanency to this practice. Consequently a _rosary_, or
procession, to sing praises to the Virgin Mary before the dawn, has
been established among us from time immemorial. A man with a good
voice, active, sober, and fond of early rising, is either paid,
or volunteers his services, to perambulate the streets an hour
before daybreak, knocking at the doors of such as wish to attend
the procession, and inviting all to quit their beds and join in
the worship of the Mother of God. This invitation is made in short
couplets, set to a very simple melody, and accompanied by the pretty
and varied tinkling of a hand-bell, beating time to the tune. The
effect of the bell and voice, especially after a long winter-night,
has always been very pleasing to me. Nor is the fuller chorus of
the subsequent procession less so. The chant, by being somewhat
monotonous, harmonizes with the stillness of the hour; and without
chasing away the soft slumbers of the morning, relieves the mind from
the ideas of solitude and silence, and whispers life and activity
returning with the approaching day.
The fever having stopped its ravages about the end of autumn, and
nearly disappeared a few weeks before Christmas, my friend and myself
prepared to return home. I shall never forget our melancholy arrival
in this town on the last evening of December. Besides the still
existing danger of infection to those who had been absent, there was
a visible change in the aspect of the town, no less than in the looks
and manner of the inhabitants, which could not but strike the most
thoughtless on the first approach to that scene of recent misery and
woe. An unusual stillness reigned in every street; and the few pale
faces which moved in them, worked in the mind a vivid representation
of the late distress. The heart seemed to recoil from the meeting of
old acquaintances; and the signs of mourning were every where ready
to check the first risings of joy at the approach of friends that had
been spared.
The Sunday after our arrival, we went, according to custom, to
the public walk on the banks of the river. But the thousands who
made it their resort before the late calamity, had now absolutely
deserted it. At the end of the walk was the burying-ground, which,
during the great mortality, had been appointed for that quarter
of the city. The prevalent custom of burying in vaults within the
churches kept the town unprovided with an appropriate place for
interment out of the walls; and a portion of waste land, or common,
now contained the remains of ten thousand inhabitants, who in their
holiday rambles had, not long before, been sporting unconsciously
over their graves. As we approached the large mounds, which, with
the lofty cross erected on the turf, were yet the only marks which
distinguished the consecrated from the common ground, we saw one
of the _Rosarios_, or processions in honour of the Virgin, slowly
advancing along the avenue of the public walk. Many who formerly
frequented that place for recreation, had, under the impression of
grief and superstitious terror, renounced every species of amusement,
and marshalling themselves in two files, preceded by a cross, and
closed by the picture of the Virgin on a standard, repaired every
Sunday to the principal place of burial, where they said prayers for
the dead. Four or five of these processions, consisting either of
males or females, passed towards the cemetery as we were returning.
The melancholy tone in which they incessantly sang the Ave Maria and
the Lord’s Prayer, as they glided along a former scene of life and
animation; and the studied plainness of the dresses, contrasted with
the gay apparel which the same persons used to display on that very
spot, left us no wish to prolong our walk. Among the ladies whose
penitent dress was most striking, we observed many who, not satisfied
with mere plainness of attire, had, probably under a private vow,
clothed themselves in a stuff peculiar to some of the religious
orders. The grey mixture used by the Franciscans was most prevalent.
Such vows are indeed very common in cases of danger from illness;
but the number and class of the females whom we found submitting to
this species of penance, shewed the extent and pressure of the past
affliction.
So transient, however, are the impressions of superstitious fear when
unsupported by the presence of its object, that a few months have
sufficed nearly to obliterate the signs of the past terror. The term
of the vows having expired with most, our females have recovered
their wonted spirits, and put aside the dull weeds of their holy
patrons. Many, it is probable, have obtained from their confessors
a commutation of the rash engagement, by means of a few pence paid
towards the expenses of any war that may arise between his Catholic
Majesty and Turks or infidels--a Crusade, for which government
collects a vast yearly sum, in exchange for various ghostly
privileges and indulgences, which the King buys from the Pope at a
much cheaper rate than he retails them to his loving subjects.
One loss alone will, I fear, be permanent, or of long duration to the
gay part of this town. The theatrical representations, which, on the
first appearance of the epidemic fever, were stopped, more by the
clamour of the preachers than the apprehensions of the inhabitants;
will not be resumed for years. The opinion formerly entertained by
a comparatively small number, that the opening of the theatre at
Seville had never failed to draw the vengeance of heaven sometimes
on its chief supporters, sometimes on the whole town; has been
wonderfully spread under the influence of the last visitation: and
government itself, arbitrary and despotic as it is among us, would
have to pause before any attempt to involve this most religious city
in the unpardonable guilt of allowing a company of comedians within
its walls.