Galdós, for example, can make the common people talk; Azorín can portray the villages of Castile, set on their arid heights, against backgrounds of blue skies; Blasco Ibáñez can paint the life of the Valencians in vivid colours with a prodigality that carries with it the taint of the cheap, but none of them has penetrated into the popular soul. That would require a great poet, and we have none. GIVING OFFENCE I have the name of being aggressive, but, as a matter of fact, I have scarcely ever attacked any one personally. Many hold a radical opinion to be an insult. In an article in _La Lectura_, Ortega y Gasset illustrates my propensity to become offensive by recalling that as we left the Ateneo together one afternoon, we encountered a blind man on the Calle del Prado, singing a _jota_, whereupon I remarked: "An unspeakable song!" Admitted. It is a fact, but I fail to see any cause of offence. It is only another way of saying more forcefully: "I do not like it, it does not please me," or what you will. I have often been surprised to find, after expressing an opinion, that I have been insulted bitterly in reply. At the outset of my literary career, Azorín and I shared the ill will of everybody. When Maeztu, Azorín, Carlos del Rio and myself edited a modest magazine, by the name of _Juventud_, Azorín and I were the ones principally to be insulted. The experience was repeated later when we were both associated with _El Globo_. Azorín, perhaps, was attacked and insulted more frequently, so that I was often in a position to act as his champion. Some years ago I published an article in the _Nuevo Mundo_, in which I considered Vázquez Mella and his refutation of the Kantian philosophy, dwelling especially upon his seventeenth mathematical proof of the existence of God. The thing was a burlesque, but a conservative paper took issue with me, called me an atheist, a plagiarist, a drunkard and an ass. As for being an atheist, I did not take that as an insult, but as an honour. Upon another occasion, I published an article about Spanish women, with particular reference to Basque women, in which I maintained that they sacrificed natural kindliness and sympathy on the altars of honour and religion, whereupon the Daughters of Mary of San Sebastian made answer, charging that I was a degenerate son of their city, who had robbed them of their honour, which was absolutely contrary to the fact. In passing, they suggested to the editor of the _Nuevo Mundo_ that he should not permit me to write again for the magazine. I wrote an article once dealing with Maceo and Cuba, whereupon a journalist from those parts jumped up and called me a fat Basque ox.