sees it. If the case must
be reversed and we must allow that the Madison Square tower was studied
from the Giralda, we must still recognize that it is no servile copy,
but in its frank imitation has a grace and beauty which achieves
originality. Still, the Giralda is always the Giralda, and, though there
had been no Saint-Gaudens to tip its summit with such a flying-footed
nymph as poises on our own tower, the figure of Faith which crowns it is
at least a good weather-vane, and from its office of turning gives the
mighty bell-tower its name. Long centuries before the tower was a belfry
it served the mosque, which the cathedral now replaces, as a minaret
for the muezzin to call the faithful to prayer, but it was then only
two-thirds as high. The Christian belfry which continues it is not in
offensive discord with the structure below; its other difference in form
and spirit achieves an impossible harmony. The Giralda, however, chiefly
works its enchantment by its color, but here I must leave the proof of
this to the picture postal which now everywhere takes the bread out
of the word-painter's mouth. The time was when with a palette full
of tinted adjectives one might hope to do an unrivaled picture of the
Giralda; but that time is gone; and if the reader has not a colored
postal by him he should lose no time in going to Seville and seeing the
original. For the best view of it I must advise a certain beautifully
irregular small court in the neighborhood, with simple houses so low
that you can easily look up over their roofs and see the mighty bells of
the Giralda rioting far aloof, flinging themselves beyond the openings
of the belfry and deafeningly making believe to leap out into space. If
the traveler fails to find this court (for it seems now and then to be
taken in and put away), he need not despair of seeing the Giralda fitly.
He cannot see Seville at all without seeing it, and from every point,
far or near, he sees it grand and glorious.

[Illustration: 26 THE COURT OF FLAGS AND TOWER OF THE GIRALDA]

I remember it especially from beyond the Guadalquivir in the drive
we took through Triana to the village of Italica, where three Roman
emperors were born, as the guide-books will officiously hasten to tell,
and steal away your chance of treating your reader with any effect
of learned research. These emperors (I will not be stopped by any
guide-book from saying) were Trajan, Hadrian, and Theodosius; and Triana
is name