Letter From Granada - Page 2

this genial climate; and with a great part of
the hardy peasantry of Spain a bed is a superfluity which many of them
never enjoy, and which they affect to despise. The common Spaniard spreads
out his manta, or mule-cloth, or wraps himself in his cloak, and lies on
the ground, with his saddle for a pillow.

The next morning I revisited the square at sunrise. It was still strewed
with groups of sleepers; some were reposing from the dance and revel of the
evening; others had left their villages after work, on the preceding day,
and having trudged on foot the greater part of the night, were taking a
sound sleep to freshen them for the festivities of the day. Numbers from
the mountains, and the remote villages of the plain, who had set out in the
night, continued to arrive, with their wives and children. All were in high
spirits; greeting each other, and exchanging jokes and pleasantries. The
gay tumult thickened as the day advanced. Now came pouring in at the city
gates, and parading through the streets, the deputations from the various
villages, destined to swell the grand procession. These village deputations
were headed by their priests, bearing their respective crosses and banners,
and images of the Blessed Virgin and of patron saints; all which were
matters of great rivalship and jealousy among the peasantry. It was like
the chivalrous gatherings of ancient days, when each town and village sent
its chiefs, and warriors, and standards, to defend the capital or grace its
festivities.

At length, all these various detachments congregated into one grand
pageant, which slowly paraded round the Vivarambla, and through the
principal streets, where every window and balcony was hung with tapestry.
In this procession were all the religious orders, the civil and military
authorities, and the chief people of the parishes and villages; every
church and convent had contributed its banners, its images, its relics, and
poured forth its wealth for the occasion. In the center of the procession
walked the archbishop, under a damask canopy, and surrounded by inferior
dignitaries and their dependents. The whole moved to the swell and cadence
of numerous bands of music, and, passing through the midst of a countless
yet silent multitude, proceeded onward to the cathedral.

I could not but be struck with the changes of times and customs, as I saw
this monkish pageant passing through the Vivarambla, the ancient seat of
Moslem pomp and chivalry. The contrast was indeed forced upon the mind by
the decorations of the square. The whole front of the wooden gallery
erected for the procession, extending several hundred feet, was faced with
canvas, on which some humble though patriotic artist had painted, by
contract, a series of the