th fasting since. For those amongst them who were old or infirm that
was a grievance; but for the lusty young fellows who could handle a
spade there need not be much pity, for Spain had more of their sort than
was good for her. Even at that date the revolutionists of Cadiz had some
respect left for the nunneries. But they progressed; the example of
Paris was not lost upon them. The ayuntamiento which came into power
with the Republic was Federal. Barcelona and Malaga were stirring; the
ayuntamiento made up its mind that Cadiz should be as good as its
neighbours and show vigour too. The cheapest way to show vigour was to
make war on the weak and defenceless, and that was what this
enlightened and courageous municipality did. The nuns in the convent of
the Candelaria were told that their house and the church adjoining were
in a bad state, that they must clear out, and that both should be razed
in the interests of public safety. It was not that the presence of
ladies devoted to God after their own wishes and the traditions of their
creed was offensive to the Republic; no, not by any means. The nuns
protested that if their convent and church were in a dangerous condition
the proper measure to take was to prop them up, not pull them down. But
the blustering heroes of the municipality would not listen to this
reasoning; they were too careful of the lives of the citizens, the nuns
included; down the edifices must come. The Commune of Paris over again.
The ladies of Cadiz, those who pass to and fro, prayer-book in hand, in
the streets, and startle the flashing sunshine with their solemn
mantillas, were wroth with the municipality. They saw through its
designs, and they resolved to defeat them. To the number of some five
hundred they formed a procession, and marched four deep to the
Town-house to beg of their worships, the civic tyrants, to revoke their
order. If the convent and church were in ruins, the ladies were prepared
to pay out of their own pockets the expense of all repairs. That
procession was a sight to see; there was the beauty, the rank, the
fashion, and the worth of the city, in "linked sweetness long drawn
out," coiling through the thoroughfares on pious errand. The fair
petitioners were dressed as for a _fete_; diamonds sparkled in their
hair, and the potent fan, never deserted by the Andalusians, was
agitated by five hundred of the smallest of hands in the softest of
gloves. But the civic tyrants were more severe