he Sevillians. Every Sevillian, male or
female, rich or poor, handsome or ugly, aspires at a certain period of
life to the character of the majo or maja. We are not going to waste
either space or time by entering into any lengthened detail of this
ridiculous nonsense: indeed, it is quite unnecessary; almost every one of
the books published on Spain, and their name at present is legion, being
crammed with details of this same Majeza--a happy combination of
insolence, ignorance, frippery, and folly. The majo or Tomfool struts
about the streets dressed something like a merry Andrew with jerkin and
tight hose, a faja or girdle of crimson silk round his waist, in which is
sometimes stuck a dagger, his neck exposed, and a queer kind of
half-peaked hat on his head. He smokes continually, thinks there is no
place like Seville, and that he is the prettiest fellow in Seville. His
favourite word is 'Carajo!' The maja or she-simpleton, wears a fan and
mantilla, exhibits a swimming and affected gait, thinks that there's no
place like Seville, that she is the flower of Seville--Carai! is her
favourite exclamation. But enough of these poor ridiculous creatures.
Yet, ridiculous in every respect as they are, these majos and majas find
imitators and admirers in people who might be expected to look down with
contempt upon them and their follies; we have seen, and we tell it with
shame, we have seen Englishmen dressed in Tomfool's livery lounging about
Seville breathing out smoke and affecting the airs of hijos de Sevilla;
and what was yet worse, fair blooming Englishwomen, forgetful of their
rank as daughters of England, appearing a la maja on the banks of the
Guadalquivir, with fan and mantilla, carai and caramba. We wish
sincerely that our countrymen and women whilst travelling abroad would
always bear in mind that they can only be respected or respectable so
long as they maintain their proper character--that of Englishmen and
Englishwomen;--but in attempting to appear French, Italians, and
Spaniards, they only make themselves supremely ridiculous. As the tree
falls, so must it lie. They are children of England; they cannot alter
that fact, therefore let them make the most of it, and after all it is no
bad thing to be a child of England. But what a poor feeble mind must be
his who would deny his country under any circumstances! Therefore,
gentle English travellers, when you go to Seville, amongst other places,
appear there as