The Sun.
London, England, 1849-11-21 00:00:00

SPANISH BEAUTY.

" The traveller, if he bas indulged in exaggerated
notions of Spanish beauty, will impression
be taught in what
it consists. Probably his final rmpression will be one of
disappointment; and even he who has drawn in his
imagination a less glowing picture of its charms will
find the reality fall short of his ideal sketch. If he has
kept out the pure red and white, and the eye of heavenly
blue, that mock the beauty of a northern sky, he has
judged rightly; but after supplying their place with the
pale or dusky check of a southern clime, and its eye,
which, whether it be mild or gentle, flashing or languid,
is always dark, he will need to use his pencil with
caution. In truth, the Spanish dame, as regards regu-
larity of feature, and those charms which form beauty
of countenance, must yield the palm to the dames of
other nations; her attractions centre in her dark glossy
hair, and in those eloquent eyes, that unite with an ever-
varying play of expression in making her wondrously fas-
cinating. In beauty of form, however, she reigns alone;
nothing could be more symmetrical or more exquisitely
rounded than th© shapes of tho Gaditanian belles, as
they glided or floated—anything but walked—through
the mazes of the gay crowd on the promenade. In-
deed the Andalusian grace is proverbial in Spain;
and the traveller must confess that he has never beheld
elegance of motion until he has stood upon an Andalu-
sian Alameda. What it is can hardly be described by
words; it is beyond the power of language to describe
those slow and surpassingly graceful movements which
accompany every step of the Andaluza."

SPANISH SOUP AND SPANISH CUSTOM.
" Many and various were the dishes handed round,
and though, on the whole, we contrived to make a sub-
stantial meal, there were not a few preparations that
would have driven a Ude or a Soyer frantic. One still
comes across my memory like a nightmare—it was the
sopa. In a huge copper cauldron, which occupied the
place of a tureen at the bottom of the table, I descried a
thick pasty substance, which, on inquiry, I was told was
the soup ; it was brought to table in this fashion—the
cauldron being the vessel in which it was boiled—in
order to be eaten in all its perfection. As far as I could
ascertain, bread sodden in hot oil formed the foundation
of the mess, to which garlic, moreover, lent its odours ;
the surface was garnished with poached eggs resting
upon a stratum of wild asparagus, a vegetable which
those who have once tasted wiil not speedily forget, the
apples of the Dead Sea being scarcely so bitter. C--
and I were the first to ne'supplied with the uninviting com-
pound. As the fumes of it ascended to our nostrils, we
cast rueful louks upon our plates, and at each other,
which could hardly have escaped the notice of our en-
tertainers, had they not been too busily engaged in dis-
patching their own shares. Long before ours disappeared
the majority had been helped twice or thrice to this
dainty, and, in fact, the cauldron was not dismissed
until it was completely emptied. For ourselves, after the
first dose, we escaped pretty well, by alleging, for want
of a better reason, that it was not the costumbre' in
England to be helped twice to soup. There is a won-
derful power in the phrase es costumbre,' as the tra-
veller in Spain quickly learns. He finds it, in his way,
sometimes a stumbling-block, sometimes a valuable ally.
Inquire the origin of some popular superstition or usage
of society, and lo es costumbre' appears as a satisfac-
tory explanation; or point out how things may be im-
proved, and how they aro managed better or differently
in your own cr other countries, and you have for answer
a6pNa sot
tuqmubire shake
et
aciae
ut, of. t.he.heTadbieweiltihuatihneg
thewteords eise cuous
questionably a national characteristic, and to it we owe the
tact that Spain is at this day, perhaps, the most interest-
ing country in Europe. Her daily life is, as near as can
be, the same that is painted in the pages of Cervantes
or Lesage: in all that we see or hear we are constantly
reminded of their descriptions; and though at first it is
difficult to conceive such a thing, we are brought to
confess that we behold a state of society such as it ex-
isted 200 years ago; the roads, the ruins, the robbers,
the salons, serenades, piccaroons, compliments, aro in
fact altered so little after the lapse of this long period."

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.

" To return to the grated windows of these dwellings
—should you have occasion after nightfall to tra-
verse the dimly-lighted streets, you will not go
far without passing a figure :7 muffled in an
ample cloak, and with the sombrero slouched
over the eyes, leaning against the iron bars. As you
pass your ears convince you that it is conversing in a
low voice with some one within, whom the darkness
shrouds from observation. In all probability you will
take no further note of the whispering pair ; but if you
be more curious than wise, and bestow on them more
than a passing look, another becloaked figure will proba-
bly step out from some corner, and politely request you to
refrain from interfering with other people's business. If
this hint be not sufficient, he will prepare to enforce it
by other means, and by displaying his navaja, threaten
to appeal to arms. He is engaged in one of the most
sacred duties of Spanish friendship. To guard from
danger or discovery—or, as it is termed, gulrdar les
espalades'—‘ to guard the hack' of a friend who may be
playing the lover—is an affair to be undertaken only by
a tried comrade, whose devotion and courage may Le
proof against the rude trials to which such a position
subjects him."

SPANISH DONKEY-DRIVERS.
" The only di awback to the perfect enjoyment of this
.ovely scene arose from the conduct of my guide, who
was much given to profane swearing, and unmerciful
usage of his burro.' On remonstrating with him in
regard to his cruelty, he chose to be offended, and
o&red me advice ia his turn :
" 6 Take care, Senor,' said he, how you interfere be-
tween a man and his donkey, which is just as bad as
interfering between a man and his wire; and if you do,
perhaps you may get the answer of Torquemada cast in
your teeth;
" 6 What was that?' I inquired.
" Why it so happened that Torquemada was beating
his donkey very severely, when a courtier came by and
bade him be more merciful to his beast. " I shall do so
for the future," said Torqueinada, "since I now find he is
a relation of yours from the interest you take in him."
Wasn't that well said, Senor?'
" Passing well for a beater of donkeys.'"
SPANISH DANCING.
" In Britain a quadrille is generally a solemn affair,
but here it is far worse; nut because the performers feel
ill at ease during their saltatory exhibition, but from the
circumstance that the variety of difficult passages and
shakes to which they condemn their lower members is
such as can only be executed by means of much agility,
and the utmost concentration of their faculties to the one
purpose. Hence no dancers upon the tight-rope can
look more anxious and thoughtful than those in Spanish
ball-rooms when a quadrille is in progress."
The above extracts are illustrative of the manners
and peculiarities of the country. The more interest-
ing portions of the work, the legendary tales and
travelling adventures, are too long to be quoted here.

INTRODUCTORY LECTURE 07i theDUTIES
and REQUIREMENTS of BRITISH OF
FICERS, delivered at Hanwcll College, Middle-
sex, on the 11th of October, 1849. By J. H.
Stocqueler, Esq., Military Examiner.
Mr. Stocqueler, a gentleman well known in the
military, political, and literary world, recently
delivered the above lecture to the students at
Ilan well College, which is so excellently presided
over by the Rev. Dr. Emerson. In his opening
paragraph Mr. Stocqueler thus effectually disposes
of the nauseous charlatanisms of the paix a tout
prix sect .
" In commencing a series of lectures upon the Art of
War, and the profession of the Soldier, beneath the roof
of one whose mission is essentially peaceful, I feel it due
to him to premise that I enter upon the task in the full
conviction that there is nothing inconsistent with the
office of the pastor in the inculcation of a love of the
Military sciences. At the present moment there is a
great outcry in France, Belgium, England, and America,
upon the subject of war. Men are leagued together for
the purpose of endeavouring to provide a sulisti.ute for
the arbitrament of the sword, and war is denounced as
a cruel, absurd, and expensive method of arriving at
great public ends. It is impossible not to respect the
motives of these philanthropists, but I feel it more than
difficult to discover the utility of the agitation they have
commenced, or to assent to the propositions ss biota form
the sequel to their leading argument. War is a great
curse,' say they.—Granted. It is the duty of every
Christian to avoid, and put an end to war all over the
world.'—Admitted. Abolish armies and navies, the
instruments of war, and you have taken the first great
step towards the extinction of the curse.'—There we join
issue. If armies and fl ::eta were merely used for eggres-
sive purposes, the postulate would hold good; but, inas-
much as they are chiefly maintained as agents of national
defence, the argument goes for nothing. I grant that,
if the whole of the nations of the earth, civilized and
uncivilized, were simultaneously to lay down their arms
for ever, human blood would cease to be shed in the
quariels of mankind; hut, since such a consummation is
impossible, we must repudiate the ideas of the Peace
advocates as perfectly Utopian. It would be manifestly
absurd for any single nation to disarm. As surely as it
'r did so, its neighbour would seek some pretext for a dis-
pute, anti pounce upon the undefended soil. Before men
can afford to become entirely passive, human passions
must be annihilated. What is a nation but an eggre-
' gate of individuals possessed of desires, hopes, fears?