[This article from Miss Connor, written from Malaga last summer, having
been mislaid, after its reception, is published at this time as not
without interest, notwithstanding the delay.—ED.]
The streets of Malaga always present an animated appearance. One never
sees here that dead calm which pervades many of our northern cities in
midsummer. At all hours of the day the air resounds with the sonorous
voices of men and boys calling out whatever they may have to sell. Fish
of all kinds, fruits, live turkeys and many other things may be obtained
in this way, with the additional entertainment of listening to a loud
and heated discussion between the servant and vender regarding the
price. If the latter chances to be a boy, he summons a flood of tears to
his assistance, having acquired, as a part of his occupation, the
faculty of crying when occasion demands. The servant, accustomed to
mechanical weeping, is immovable and the youthful imposter is finally
compelled to receive a fair price for his wares.
Every afternoon at five o’clock, an old man with a bright, cheerful face
passes our window calling out “barquillos” in a clear, musical voice
which makes itself heard at a long distance. The children crowd around
him while he takes from a green box strapped over his shoulder, a tube
made of light paste, on one end of which he puts a white foamy
substance, composed of the whites of eggs and sugar. At this juncture,
the little ones become frantic and jostle each other in a most
unceremonious manner, in their eagerness to possess the delicate morsel.
Each one is served and the poor old man goes on his way rejoicing ever
the few quartas which will buy his daily bread. Barquillos are also
obtained at restaurants as an accompaniment for ices, and seem to be
relished by children of a larger growth, as well as others.
The business of the ware houses commences at an early hour and continues
through the day; carts drawn by mules are constantly passing while the
industrious little donkeys may be seen marching in a line, following
their leader, who has a bell to announce his coming. During the vintage,
long lines of donkeys laden with boxes of raisins come from the
vineyards, horses never being used except in cabs and private carriages.
The cab horses are poor, old animals which seem to have lived as long as
nature intended, but are kept alive by some mysterious agency, and by
dint of much urging and whipping manage to move at a slow pace. One day,
when we were taking a drive, the horse suddenly stopped and the driver
dismounted. To our inquiry, as to the cause of delay he replied, “_no es
nada_” (it is nothing), resumed his seat and we started again, but had
not proceeded far when the animal absolutely refused to go; this time we
insisted upon alighting and were coolly informed that the horse was only
a little _cansado_ (tired). Many more instances might be cited
illustrating the manner in which dumb animals are abused in a country
where there are no laws prohibiting it, or if such laws exist they are
not enforced.
The animation prevailing through the day by no means diminishes as night
approaches, although of a very different character. At twilight, the
higher classes sally forth to the Alameda or Muelle (mole), to enjoy the
refreshing breeze from the sea, while those of lower estate seek some
place of rendezvous and indulge in their idle gossip. An occasional
troubadour steals to some obscure corner and sends forth plaintive
sounds from his faithful guitar, not unfrequently some youthful swain is
inspired to add the charms of his voice, and the “Malaguenas” bursts
forth in all its primative sweetness. The enthusiasm of the Spaniards on
hearing their national airs is something remarkable, they become quite
wild with excitement and applaud in the most vociferous manner.
Foreigners, also, who have spent some time in the country, share this
enthusiasm, which seems to be caused more by a certain rhythmical
peculiarity, than by any extraordinary merit of the music itself.
The romantic days of Spain are past, when the lover stood beneath the
balcony of his sweetheart, wooing her with the gentle strains of his
guitar. To us it seems a matter of regret that this ancient custom no
longer exists, but it undoubtedly relieves many anxious parents as it
particularly favored clandestine courtships. A Spanish gentleman of our
acquaintance who is blessed with seven daughters, and occupies a house
containing twenty balconies, congratulates himself upon the change in
love-making as it would be impossible to keep watch over all, even by
constantly rushing from one balcony to another. At the present day the
suitor is admitted to the salon, where he may converse with the object
of his affections, but always in the presence of her parents. Spanish
mammas would be shocked at the freedom allowed American girls in
receiving visits from the opposite sex and accepting their escort to
places of entertainment.
The feast of Corpus Christi was celebrated in Malaga with much _eclat_.
For two weeks previous preparations were going on for the fair, which
takes place at this time, booths being arranged on one side of the
Alameda and filled with a variety of articles, useful and ornamental,
calculated to please the eye and lighten the pockets of passers-by,
while others were provided with these substantial things needful to
satisfy the wants of the inner man. At night the Alameda was most
brilliantly illuminated by long lines of lights extending the whole
length on either side, also across the centre at intervals, with
occasional circles and clusters, producing a most dazzling effect. At
each end, in front of the fountains were erected two pavillions, one
under the direction of a club styled the “Circulo Mercantil,” the other
by the members of the “Lycio” both of which were handsomely decorated
with flags and flowers and provided with comfortable seats. We availed
ourselves of the opportunity to attend the balls given in these
pavillions, and found them exceedingly diverting. In the centre, a space
was reserved for the dancers, who tripped the “light fantastic” with
apparent enjoyment, notwithstanding the disadvantages of little room and
much heat. The _toilettes_ of the ladies were varied and elegant,
displaying a taste which would do credit to Worth himself, while the
national costume, worn by a few young ladies, far exceeded the most
charming conceptions of that famous artist. This costume, called the
“_Maja_,” is extremely picturesque, especially when combined with the
piquant faces and nonchalant airs of the Spanish girls. It consists of a
skirt of bright red or blue satin, edged with a broad trimming of black
_chenille_; with this is worn a black velvet bodice, the hair is
arranged in finger puffs, with a high comb placed jauntily on one side,
and a few flowers gracefully twined among the dark tresses; a Spanish
mantilla, and laced slippers, just disclosed beneath the short skirt,
complete this beautiful costume, rich in fabric, but simple in design,
and above all allowing a graceful freedom which our present straight
laced fashions render impossible. Weary of the brilliancy and animation
of the ballroom, we passed to the garden where tables were arranged for
refreshments, and amid the sound of inspiring music and the gentle
murmur of the fountain, partook of delicate viands served by attentive
waiters. The arrangement of these pavillions was perfect in every
respect, contributing in the highest degree to the comfort of the
guests, and long shall we bear in remembrance the pleasant evenings they
afforded us.
On Corpus Christi day a long and imposing procession marched through the
principal streets, carrying an image of the “Virgin” robed in black
velvet elaborately embroidered in gold, and a large “_Custodia_” of
solid silver containing the “_host_.” The clergy, in their clerical
gowns, with their faces plump and glossy, walked along in a
self-satisfied manner, confident of good cheer in this world, whatever
may await them in another. The civil and military authorities added
their dignified presence, followed by a large concourse of people with
wax candles. The streets and balconies were filled with men, women, and
children of all ages and classes, every available space being occupied.
In the afternoon a bull fight took place, and a ball in the evening
ended the programme of the day.
In the midst of the festivities of the week, the Queen’s illness was
announced, causing a suspension of all gayety, and her subsequent death
was followed by a season of mourning. The Alameda was stripped of its
superfluous adornings, and the sound of music no longer filled the air
with its sweet harmonies. Funeral services were solemnized in the
Cathedral, and many a fervent prayer ascended to Heaven for the repose
of the dead, and the resignation of the bereaved young King.
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