mediaeval in the careful chaperonage to which the lovely and graceful
Majorcan girls were subjected. And the scrupulous separation of the
sexes seemed to argue distrust, of the maidens as well as of the
men.
Matrimony is a popular institution in Majorca, and when a damsel has
reached a marriageable age an eligible suitor is rarely awanting. It
is when that suitor has cast the glad eye upon the lady of his
choice that matters would appear to proceed after an unsatisfactory
and yet most conspicuous fashion.
Suppose Don Sebastian desires to pay court to a lady whom he has
seen taking her carefully chaperoned walks, he writes a letter
asking her permission to do so. If the reply is in the negative the
matter ends. If it is in the affirmative the Don puts on his cloak,
which is frequently picturesquely lined with scarlet, and hies
himself to the palace of his inamorata, but in place of boldly
knocking at the front door and being ushered into one of the
reception-rooms, he takes up his position beneath the balcony on
which she is most likely to take the air.
When the object of his desire appears--and you may be certain the
_duena_ is close at hand--the lady looks down, the lover gazes up,
and only those who have put the matter to the test can judge how
physically harassing it is to breathe impassioned nothings to
someone who is suspended above your head.
[Illustration: The Wooer]
At this stage the matter halts for a period that sometimes runs into
years--for in these restful latitudes even the course of true love
moves slowly. Then, permission having been asked and granted, Don
Sebastian may accompany the lady and her chaperon in their walks for
a period approaching six months. When this point is reached, the
parents of Don Sebastian, carrying a handsome present, which most
frequently takes the form of a ring, call on the guardians of the
lady, and, their consent to the prospective union having been
gained, the suitor is at length admitted to the house, and the
public cease to see his love-lorn figure beneath the balcony. Even
when matters have crawled to this advanced stage the visits of the
Don are merely ceremonious calls, paid strictly under the watchful
eyes of the _duena_. And I am told it is not until the night before
the wedding that he is favoured with an invitation to dine at the
home of his bride.
In order to impart the proper aspect of romance to this oft-played
balcony scene, the actors ought to be, and often are, young and
graceful. When they are otherwise it is only too easy to give a
ludicrous rendering of the drama.
During our early months at the Casa Tranquila we sometimes, in the
evenings, passed a tall house, from a balcony on whose third storey
a plump lady would be shouting down coy replies to the blandishments
of an elderly swain who had to stand out in the middle of the road
in order to see his sweetheart. After a time both balcony and street
were vacant; presumably the suitor had been admitted inside. Then a
_to-let_ bill appeared on the balcony. The little romance had
evidently ended happily, and the mature lovebirds had built a nest
elsewhere.
Our six months' experience of the Balearic Isles fostered the belief
that we had discovered the ideal winter climate. Perhaps we had
chanced upon an abnormally fine season, though I question that; but
certain it is that from the middle of October, when we entered the
bay and saw Palma looking celestial in the rosy light of dawn, until
the second week in January, the weather was perfect.
Spain is proverbially sunny. Against England's 1,400 and Italy's
2,300 annual hours of sunshine, Spain offers 3,000. With this grand
allowance of sunshine the Majorcan heat is temperate. Statistics
show that during the Balearic summer the thermometer rarely rises
above 90 deg. Fahr., while in winter it seldom falls below 40 deg.
Fahr. A gentleman who has passed his life in Palma told us that twice
only had he seen snow fall--once when he was twelve year old, and
again a few years ago.
Except for a sultry day or two in the end of October the atmosphere
was only pleasantly warm. Week succeeded week when the sea reflected
a sky of cloudless glowing azure, when the air was soft and yet
exhilarating, and we could both walk and bask with pleasure.
Rain never comes before it is welcome in Majorca. Sometimes the
welcome waits long before it is claimed.
When after an unbroken succession of days or weeks, or it may be
months, of unbroken fine weather, one is awakened by the sound of
rain falling in torrents on the tiled roofs, it is to rejoice with
the knowledge that the thirsty crops are already drinking in the
moisture, that the diminished store in the wells is being
replenished, that your oranges are swelling, and that your lemons
will soon lose the hardness of the nether millstone and become
available for lemonade.
There is no hesitation about Majorcan rain. It does not play at
being wet; it is simply drenching. And when rain comes, no man,
however distinguished the uniform he wears or elevated his position
(he may even be mounted on a panniered mule), hesitates to carry an
umbrella. _Consumeros_, carbineers, farm labourers, postmen, all
shelter under them. Nobody thinks it funny to meet a solemn
policeman carrying a sword, a revolver, _and_ an umbrella.
After the middle of January the weather changed. The temperature
fell, and for nearly a fortnight cold winds raged. Warm wraps were
brought out of the trunks where they had hitherto lain, and in the
evenings a wood fire became a much appreciated luxury.
It was curious to note how speedily even this only comparatively
cold weather made its malign influence felt on a people accustomed
to warmth and sunshine. Colds and coughs abounded. Most of our
Majorcan acquaintances appeared to suffer. As one lady said
resignedly, "It is the tribute we must pay to winter."
Even the Boy spent several days in bed with a cold, reading all the
French and Spanish novels he could beg or borrow, and comforting
himself with the reflection that had he been well the weather for
the first time during the winter would have made it impossible for
him to paint outside.
Yet, had three months of sunshine not made us critical, we would
never have grumbled at these few days of cold wind. Adopting
unconsciously the local opinion of the weather, I found myself
commiserating the Squire and his Lady, who had recently arrived from
England.
"What a pity you didn't come earlier than you did. There was no bad
weather till you came."
"But we've had _lovely_ weather!" the Lady said, opening wide eyes
of surprise. "Why, we've been out long walks every day. It isn't
really cold, and there's only been one shower, and that fell at
night."
Remembering our British standard I was dumb.
Though Majorca was free from fog, sometimes on an absolutely
windless morning a light mist would envelop Palma and the smoke from
the works in the Calle de la Fabrica would hang heavy in the still
air. Then the Boy would hasten to say that we might be in
Bradford--a town, by the way, that he knows only by repute. But with
the rising of even the faintest breeze the highest spires of the
Cathedral would appear out of the mist as though, through some
supernal agency, they were suspended in mid-air. Then gradually, as
if a veil were being slowly drawn aside, the city would again become
visible.
With early February our radiant weather returned, and heads were
shaken, for the young crops showed sign of wilting under the
long-continued drought. Over a period of fifteen days the churches
sent up special petitions for rain--petitions that must have been
echoed in the heart of every man that owned a "possession," or
farmed a patch of ground, or even rented a garden plot.
We were at Soller when for two days and two nights the rain fell
incessantly, soaking the parched soil and transforming the dry
_torrentes_ into raging rivers. Then it suddenly ceased, leaving us
with the glory of snow-tipped mountains seen against a glowing blue
sky.
Late in March and early in April rain again fell, delaying the
annual ceremony of the Swearing to the Flag, but making the
spindling corn fill out in a magical fashion and the beans that had
begun to shrivel and blacken become erect and juicy. When we left
Majorca on the last day of April all fears of the fate of the crops
had been removed; figs and vines were budding, almond-trees were
luxuriant in foliage, and the far-spreading meadows were covered
with grain that gave promise of a rich harvest.
We had thought vegetables and fruit so cheap that it astonished us
to hear the natives declare that _now_ prices would fall--that it
was through the past two successive dry summers that they had risen
so high!
Residents told us that for nine months out of the year the weather
in Palma might be relied upon to be delightful, but that during the
three hot months--which were July, August, and September--the moist,
damp heat was very relaxing. Then it is that the aristocracy,
temporarily vacating their sombre palaces in the narrow streets,
remove their entire establishment to one or other of their country
seats, while people of smaller social importance flock to their
villas at the Terreno, or Porto Pi, or Son Rapina, or even to modest
cottages at our little Son Espanolet.
To us there seemed something funny in the notion of people having
coast residences that were within a twopence-halfpenny car-drive of
their town homes. But it is undoubtedly pleasant to live in a land
where, by a change of locality entailing, at the most, a two hours'
drive, one can avoid any extreme of either heat or cold.
[Illustration: The National Sport]
XXIV
OF ODDS AND ENDS
In Majorca there are hotels to suit all purses. At Palma the Grand
Hotel is probably the best suited to tourists, especially if there
are ladies in the party; while those who would like to see a real
Majorcan _fonda_ of the better class and eat good native cooking
should go to Barnils' in the Calle del Conquistador.
The sum charged is invariably by the day, and varies according to
the pretensions of the establishment. In most hotels it includes
both wine and aerated waters. On arrival it is always well to
inquire what the rate will be and whether it includes the little
breakfast. If the traveller thinks the terms asked too high and says
frankly what he is prepared to pay, he is almost certain to be
accommodated at his own price.
Our experience of the country _fondas_ was that they were
infinitely superior to British inns of similar standing. The cooking
was far better and the prices much lower. If one knows a little
Spanish and can make a bargain, three pesetas a day is quite a usual
price for a country _fonda_. The best should not charge more than
four, and the catering is surprisingly good. In remote places beef
may be scarce, but fish are generally plentiful, the rye bread is
good, and the omelets are always excellent.
Here I might say that in every instance we found the beds admirably
appointed and comfortable. The Majorcan housewife takes special
pride in her daintily embroidered house-linen. Toilet arrangements
are apt to be primitive, and, except at the larger hotels, baths are
unknown. An india-rubber bath is easy to pack and will be found
invaluable. In obedience to Baedeker's advice to travellers in
Spain, we carried round a tin of insect-powder. But though the
Balearic Isles are in Spain in one respect, at least they are not of
it, for at the end of our wanderings the tin was still unopened.
In Palma there are several clubs, notably the _Circulo Mallorquin_,
the _Club Real de Regatas_, the _Veda_, and others, political,
military, and social, to which the desirable foreigner would find
little difficulty in being elected. The subscriptions, which are
collected monthly, would strike a London clubman as ridiculously
low. He would find his fellow-members both courteous and charming,
but disinclined to join in any exertion. And unless in very
exceptional instances their acquaintance would begin and end at the
club.
The Majorcan does not go in for sport, though there is a sports
club. He detests walking, and very infrequently plays tennis. The
entire group of islands does not boast a golf course. An English
resident who was trying to get up a golf club found the natives
apathetic; but the invasion of half a dozen good enthusiasts would
probably change this attitude. Many of the Palma men keep boats.
Yachting seems to be the only occupation they incline to; and it
would be hard to conceive of a more delightful pastime than cruising
about that picturesque coast.
Furnished houses are difficult to find, anywhere in Majorca. But in
Palma unfurnished flats can be had. We saw quite a nice one in a
good locality that was let at forty pesetas a month--a rent that
included all taxes. At the delightful suburbs of the Terreno and
Porto Pi, houses with exquisite views of the sea can be obtained.
But everywhere to the foreigner who does not speak Spanish terms are
said to rise.
Even in the capital town the wages of both male and female servants
are very low. For about twelve pounds a year I imagine one might
have the pick of ordinary female servants, the price paid men being
alike small. But it would be futile to expect to find the carefully
drilled attendance with which home usage has accustomed us.
To our more conservative minds, the attitude of the island servitors
towards their employers seems strangely familiar. And their dress is
apt to be informal. Once when I was paying an afternoon call in
Palma the man-servant entered the drawing-room to receive an order
sketchily attired in a pink undervest and trousers. And throughout
the visit his voice trilling roundelays in the adjacent pantry made
unusual accompaniment to our polite conversation. At the moment I
confess I was surprised, but that was during our very early days in
Majorca. A few months later I doubt if I would have noticed anything
odd in either occurrence.
The cost of living strikes any one accustomed to British
housekeeping as small--not perhaps because food is so very cheap,
for it is dearer in Palma than in the country towns and rural
districts, and much dearer than in Minorca and Iviza; but because
life is much simpler and less pretentious and conventional than in
England.
Certain imported commodities such as sugar are expensive,
consequently the sweets that with people of the same class at home
would be an everyday article of diet are reserved for special
occasions, particularly the frequently recurring feast days.
Residence in Majorca entails no exhausting social demands on either
the strength or the bank account. Even among themselves the
inhabitants but rarely entertain beyond the circle of their own
relatives. And their meetings with friends seem confined to the
theatre, the promenade, the bull-fights, or at one of the infrequent
entertainments given at the principal clubs.
The payment of fourpence secured a stall at the combination of
cinematograph and variety show that during our stay in Palma was the
fashionable form of amusement. And without further disbursement the
visitor who inclined that way was entitled to wait on through the
interval between the two houses and witness the whole performance
over again. For plays or for light opera the fees advanced a little,
though I doubt if they ever rose to the sum charged for the pit of a
London theatre.
The bull-fights patronized by Majorcan society are those given in
summer. We went to one held at Easter, and though society was absent
the people were there in numbers that filled two-thirds of the Plaza
de Toros, which seats five thousand. The action was mercifully
modified, for no horses were exposed to the attacks of the bulls. We
entered the place with our national prejudices strong upon us, and
left it with a conflict of mingled attraction and repulsion. When a
bull knocked down a clumsy _matador_ who had been making painful but
futile attempts to give him the fatal stroke, we lamented that the
bull failed to kill his torturer. Yet when another and more skilful
_matador_ by a single thrust mercifully vanquished his bull, we
shared something of the enthusiasm of the spectators, who threw hats
and cigars into the arena, and finally bursting in, carried the hero
of the moment shoulder-high round the ring.
It had certainly not been a fashionable function. From a
neighbouring box our Vigilante bowed graciously, and Bartolome, who
was of the Vigilante's party, beamed broadly upon us. When we left
the Plaza de Toros we encountered Maria, who was chaperoning two
tall daughters in mantillas. And as we walked back along the
ramparts we overtook Mrs. Mundo trotting homewards with her twin
girls, whose uncovered locks were tied up with ribbons till they
looked like a couple of nice little ponies on their way to a horse
show.
For certain temperaments Majorca has a curious magnetic attraction.
People who have first set foot upon its shores with comparative
indifference find themselves returning again and yet again; with
each visit becoming more under the thraldom of its charm. The Squire
and his Lady, who half a dozen years ago visited the island because
so many other Mediterranean resorts were already known to them, have
returned with increased anticipation of pleasure each successive
spring since. And during our stay in Palma we made the congenial
acquaintance of a Scots lady and gentleman who find the glamour of
these fair islands strong enough to induce them to make a yearly
pilgrimage thither from the North of Scotland.
Majorca is a delightful place to loaf in. I know no place where one
more keenly experiences the mere joy of being alive. In that ideal
temperature, under those cloudless skies, one at first feels content
to let the days drift past, taking no heed for the things of the
morrow. But the air has an amazingly rejuvenating effect. In a short
time years drop off--one loses superfluous weight and regains
colour. Exercise ceases to be exertion and becomes a keen delight.
Walks that formerly ranked as a day's excursion become merely a
pleasant stroll, to be undertaken between an early tea and a late
dinner.
[Illustration: Calle de la Portella, Palma]
In Palma something to interest or touch one was always happening.
Once--it was on the first day of February--we entered the usually
deserted Rambla to find a crowd composed chiefly of young men, all
of the same age, gathered in front of the barracks. The majority had
the sunburnt complexion of the rustic. A few were evidently of
higher social standing. Many girls and a few old peasants fringed
the crowd. It was the occasion of the annual drawing of lots for the
enrolment of the young men of the Palma district, who were to spend
their next three years in the army.
Some of the lads peered anxiously in at the closed gates of the
barracks; others concealed their concern and chatted gaily with
their friends. Military service in that land of sunshine is not
arduous. Recruits thus drawn by lot are never sent off their native
island, and to flirt with pretty maidservants on the Borne on a
Sunday afternoon--which to the casual observer appears to be the
leading labour of the Majorcan force--can hardly be termed hard
labour. So no doubt many of the rustics were already wondering if
they would not look better in shakos and crimson breeches than they
did in the blue cotton and goatskins of their shepherds' dress.
At length the gates were thrown open and sergeants called upon the
conscripts to enter. Many paused to wave farewells, and almost all
saluted or raised their hats as they advanced to put their fortunes
to the test. A few of the more smartly dressed strolled nonchalantly
in, smoking cigarettes, and we guessed that they, following the
native love of a gamble, had already paid a hundred crowns to the
insurance company that, in the event of their drawing an unlucky
number, would forfeit to the State the three hundred crowns that
would purchase their exemption from the three years of service.
A period of suspense dragged past. Then a sympathetic movement of
the crowd intimated the deliverance of the first two freed men, who,
as they left the gate, threw high in air the couple of breakfast
rolls that, with two reales, are presented to every man who has
drawn a lucky number. Others relieved and hilarious followed
quickly, but many pretty girls and old men waited in vain for the
return of the candidates that fate had decreed were to swell the
ranks of the standing army. The barracks had swallowed them up and
they were seen no more. Perhaps they also had rolls and reales;
perhaps they were elated at the prospect of town life; perhaps they
already looked back with longing to their almond-trees and
goatskins!
For the adventurous, Majorca has plenty of peaks to climb, coasts to
navigate, shrines to visit, caves to explore. The distances between
the known points of interest--and there are very many places still
unexploited--are so easy that a tourist with only a few days at his
disposal can visit the most noted parts.
The two brothers in whose interesting company we visited the Dragon
Caves had only five days to spend in Majorca. But even in so brief a
space of time they succeeded in seeing and in doing much. Their
method of mapping out their time was so admirable that I am tempted
to quote it.
On Monday night they crossed from Barcelona, arriving at Palma early
on Tuesday morning. Having breakfasted on the steamer, they caught
the early train for Manacor, where they lunched before driving to
the caves. After dining and sleeping at Manacor they took the train
on Wednesday morning to the railway terminus at La Puebla, and from
there drove to the old towns of Pollensa and Alcudia. That
accomplished, they journeyed by rail to Inca, where they passed the
night, returning on Thursday by the morning train to Palma, where
they spent the day visiting as many places of interest as possible.
On Friday they drove to Soller by way of Valldemosa, Miramar, and
Deya. Rising early on Saturday morning they drove to Fornalutx, and
starting from there, climbed the Puig Mayor, getting a superb view
from the summit. In the afternoon they drove back to Palma in time
to catch the mail boat to Barcelona. The weather had been perfect,
and they were able to carry out their well-planned expedition
without interruption.
For those who enjoy gentle exploration Palma makes an admirable
centre. A good pedestrian could encompass the island on foot, and a
journey more full of varied scenery or among pleasanter or more
unsophisticated folk could hardly be imagined. Those of less
energetic nature would find much of interest within very easy
walking distance.
It is almost impossible--in Palma at least--to hire mules, but
driving is comparatively cheap. Every few minutes tramcars run to
Porto Pi, where there is a good aquarium, with, when we saw it, a
splendid display of writhing octopi.
A mile beyond the car terminus is Cas Catala, where there is a
delightfully situated hotel. Just beyond the hotel are lovely walks
through the pine woods that border the sea, and pretty little bays,
in one of which--that a little way past the _carabineros'_ hut, I
think--I got some nice little shells and quite a lot of sponges that
had been washed up by the sea.
Genova, which is a very short walk inland from the car terminus at
Porto Pi, makes an attractive point for a little excursion. In a
garden off one of the by-ways is the entrance to a recently
discovered cave, which is the property of the landlord of the little
_taverna_--the Casa Morena--who discovered it when he was digging a
well. The cave, though small in extent, resembles the Dragon Caves
in miniature, and has beautiful stalactites and stalagmites which
are both fine in form and quite unblackened by smoke.
The village church, which until lately was a favourite place of
pilgrimage, has many fine altar-pieces and other paintings, and it
has the rare quality of being so well-lighted that visitors are able
to admire their beauties.