Such was Borrow's opinion of the society of Seville. He appeared to be quite as contemptuous of the frivolous rich class as he was of most scholars and literary men. Fashionable London was never able to 'lionise' Bohemian Borrow. He loved 'the wind on the heath,' the song of the waves on the Norfolk coast, the purple _sierras_ of Spain, and the company of those children of nature, the _Kaulos_ of Britain and the _Zincalis_ of Castile. Elsewhere, however, in his writings, George Borrow speaks highly of the Spaniards in general. It was the pretensions of 'respectability,' whether in Spain or England, that called forth his pungent sarcasms. We must not forget that a famous prelate of the Roman Catholic Church, Cardinal Wiseman, was born at Seville, in 1802. It is perhaps not out of place in this chapter to allude to the attraction that Seville has possessed for three great musical composers. Mozart laid the scene of his _Don Juan_ and _Figaro_ in the city. Bizet's _Carmen_ is concerned with Seville; and most famous of all in local interest is Rossini's _Barber_. Rossini's opera is still popular in Spain. I saw it acted by an excellent company at Córdova, in May 1902. The dispersal of the cultured circle of Casa Pilatos would seem to mark the hour of the beginning of the decline of literature and the arts in Seville. We may feel astonishment that the writers of the Inquisition times were able to publish any works save those of theology, church history, or devotion. But we must remember that Pacheco was a cleric, that Góngora was a priest, and that Rioja held a post in the Holy Office. Antonio, the bibliographer, was a canon of the Cathedral, and Cervantes was a staunch Catholic. These authors were safe; they were either priests of the Church or sworn defenders of the faith. Philosophers, scientific writers, and heterodox thinkers were unable to survive their environment. New thought was stamped out as soon as it was uttered, and it was seldom indeed that bold spirits dared to express innovating opinion. The greatest writer could scarcely subsist upon the earnings of his pen. He was forced, as in the case of Cervantes, Calderon, and Lope de Vega, among many other authors, to enter the army. The choice lay between the military and the ecclesiastic professions. Outside of these no man possessed a status.