Street Music, Honour and Degeneration: The Case of organilleros

PART III REACTIONS: FEAR IN THE CITY 11 Street Music, Honour and Degeneration: The Case of organilleros1 Samuel llano From the mid-nineteenth century to the Civil War of 1936, Madrid experienced notable social and physical changes that were provoked by economic and technological modernization. One of the ways in which the authorities tried to respond to Madrid’s rapid population growth and the rise of social inequalities was through control of the urban space. An expansion of the city to the north, east and south, known as the Ensanche, and with a grid layout, made it easier to accommodate and police the growing population, to segregate rich and poor areas and to sanitize public space (Carballo, Vicente and Pallol 2013; McKinney 2010: 19–23; see the chapters by Pallol and Vicente in this volume). There were further problems that Madrid’s authorities had to deal with, not least the rise of rural immigration and, with it, the spread of poverty and epidemics, particularly cholera (Fernández García 1986; Parsons 2003: 15–17; Cruz 2011: 154; Shubert 1991: 40; Fuentes Peris 2003: 10; Bahamonde Magro and Toro Mérida 1978: 42–43; Silvestre Rodríguez 2001; Carnicer 1986; Carballo, Vicente and Pallol 2013: 305; Pallol Trigueros 2013: 27–28). Seeing the poor on the streets provoked discomfort among the rising middle classes, who saw them as sources of disorder and disease (AMV2 1899a; Fuentes Peris 2003: 135–36). Spurred on by social scientists and the developing media, the authorities used legal and police persecution against the poor, or conined them in workhouses (Llano 2017: ch. 10). Organ grinders did not it into existing categories of poverty and were prime scapegoats among the poor, being accused of challenging and misappropriating the codes of conduct on which the rising middle classes predicated their lifestyle. 1 A longer version of this chapter has been published in Samuel Llano, Discordant Notes: Marginality and Social Control in Madrid (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017), and this revision is reproduced by permission of Oxford University Press. 2 AMV = Archivo Municipal de la Villa, Madrid. 198 SAMUEL LLANO This applied particularly to what the middle classes saw as their misappropriation and corruption of the honour code. Scapegoating has been the most common way throughout history of designating a wrongdoer and turning society against him. Scapegoating often targets vulnerable individuals or groups and often follows an arbitrary course, so that ‘the borderline between rational discrimination and arbitrary persecution is sometimes dificult to trace’ (Girard 1986: 19). The scapegoating of organ grinders by the middle classes in nineteenth-century Madrid needs to be seen in the broader context of the scapegoating of the poor in the media and the social sciences. The rise and development of criminology in Spain at the turn of the twentieth century contributed to creating and spreading fear of the poor and the ‘wrongdoer’ in Madrid and Barcelona, especially after the foundation in 1899 of the Laboratorio de Criminología, directed by Rafael Salillas until 1901, shortly before he founded the Escuela de Criminología in 1903 (Campos 2009: 405). The Austrian thinker Max Nordau was a key inluence on Salillas and his pupils: his work Degeneration posited the modern city as a den of vice and moral degeneration, its citizens exposed to an excess of sensory stimuli that overwhelmed and weakened their nervous system (Nordau 1895: 35–42). The work of Nordau was inluential for two of Salillas’s pupils, Constancio Bernaldo del Quirós and José María Llanas de Aguilaniedo, whose joint book La mala vida en Madrid expressed in scientiic rhetoric the type of fears provoked by Madrid’s underworld and aired by the media. Their taxonomy of Madrid’s ‘wrongdoers’ includes pickpockets, beggars and homosexuals, and links deviance to a modest social background (Bernaldo del Quirós and Llanas de Aguilaniedo 1901). Ultimately they argue that the social inequalities generated by emerging capitalism are not directly responsible for the rise of crime and social disorder in Madrid. Rather, they imply that poverty is the plight suffered by the morally wicked. The treatment of the poor as ‘wrongdoers’ in La mala vida en Madrid sits in a context of writings by intellectuals and the media published from the midnineteenth century onwards, including works of iction featuring poor men and women inclined to dubious behaviour such as drinking or abusing the charitable predisposition of the middle classes. In Misericordia (1897) by Benito Pérez Galdós, the main character, Benina, is a poor woman who stands out as an example of moral virtue among a crowd of greedy, idling and sometimes violent beggars. As is frequently the case in Galdós’s novels, Misericordia is full of ambiguities. Teresa Fuentes Peris reads it as a defence of modern, rational and organized charity, critiquing unthinking almsgiving which turns the poor into ‘the instrument of charity of the rich’, enabling them to save their souls (Fuentes Peris 2003: 180). Yet while Galdós does not offer hope of social mobility, there is a chance of redemption for the poor as shown through Benina, STREET MUSIC, HONOUR AND DEGENERATION 199 who earns high praise from the narrator. In exchange for serving as the moral compass in the story, Benina pays the price of being betrayed by all her acquaintances. The accent of Galdós’s criticism falls on the middle classes, whom he depicts as greedy, superstitious and merciless. Misericordia could be read as a critique of begging, but also of the attitudes and moral values that produce poverty in society. Journalists rarely articulated such complex views on poverty, generally preferring more straightforward messages, albeit not in agreement with one another, as the examples below will show. The prominence and ambivalence of debates about poverty in the press was arguably a consequence of changes introduced in the social aid system from the late eighteenth century, aimed at rationalizing and making more selective the distribution of resources (Shubert 1991: 38–46; Fuentes Peris 2003: 132–36). Paupers deemed to be idlers were criminalized by the media from the mid-nineteenth century onwards in order to justify their exclusion from the social aid system. The question of who were idlers and who made up the ‘deserving’ poor was, however, far from straightforward, and some types of poor people, such as buskers, were particularly hard to it into the categories created by the social aid system. The uncertainty about how to control buskers led the authorities to contradictory and often improvised measures, often with an abuse of power. Buskers will be taken as an example to show how individuals and groups that did not it existing categories of wrongdoing often posed the greatest challenges to the state and municipal mechanisms of social control, frequently provoking outbursts of institutional violence. The ambiguous status of buskers may explain why they did not appear in La mala vida en Madrid. Buskers relied on playing music as their primary means of subsistence, so could be regarded as camoulaged beggars. They provoked animosity because their music was often deemed by the middle classes to be too loud and disruptive for the conduct of business or the pursuit of intellectual activity. As their public presence increased in impact through the nineteenth century, buskers started to provoke debates about crucial matters: social inequalities, charity, comfort, class identity, honour and public order. These debates meant that buskers, despite their marginal status and the lack of recorded testimonies of their music, played a key role in establishing social attitudes towards a range of issues, illustrating what Stallybrass and White recognize as central to the construction of subjectivity, ‘a psychological dependence upon precisely those Others which are being rigorously opposed and excluded at the social level’, given that ‘what is socially peripheral is so frequently symbolically central’ (Stallybrass and White 1986: 5). Buskers were also important for their capacity to raise self-awareness and offer forms of identiication to different groups in society (see Picker 2003: 11 on organ grinders in this respect). 200 SAMUEL LLANO Buskers are different from beggars because of their distinctive aural presence in society, and this has elicited speciic responses and debates (Bijsterveld 2008). Much of their symbolic role in cities rests on music’s unique capacity and peculiar mechanism to raise awareness about urban space, and to structure the different ways in which citizens perceive, experience and engage with it (Cohen 2007; Whiteley, Bennett and Hawkins 2004: 2–8; Pasler 2009). Their music helps to blur or consolidate existing spatial, economic or cultural divides within the city, or to create new ones, thus giving shape to forms of segregation and integration in society (Prato 1984). More broadly, music played in public spaces may articulate or undermine expressions of political and social unrest, or notions of comfort. Perceptions of the lifestyles and ideologies associated with musical styles have thus played a key role in deciding what types of music are suitable for a speciic end or, in other words, in creating a canon. Taking control of street musicians, therefore, was deemed necessary to sanitize the urban space so as to facilitate productivity, foster Madrid’s modernization, and protect the nascent culture of comfort embraced by the rising middle classes, while preserving old social codes such as the cult of honour (Cruz 2011; Bahamonde Magro and Toro Mérida 1978). Of all the classes of street musicians, organilleros – a term that encompassed players of both barrel organs and, later, of barrel pianos – became the primary target of local authorities and police forces. The loud bailes or street parties where they played could obstruct the free passage of people and vehicles and, thus, hinder trafic and economic transactions (AMV 1900; AMV 1899b; AMV 1902). It was thought that organilleros curbed productivity and, as in the case of London, jeopardized the labours of middle-class men who worked from home, such as intellectuals, artists, musicians or journalists (Bijsterveld 2008: 93; Picker 2003: 41–75; Picker 2000). Popular zarzuela and opera arias, schottische, habaneras, polkas, waltzes and cuplés engraved on the rolls of their barrel organs were louder than guitars and violins. This feature, plus the fact that organilleros were everywhere, threatened to blur the boundary between private and public spheres that the liberals sought to consolidate with increasing zeal (Aldaraca 1991: 55). Organilleros were able to attract people who gathered around to sing while drinking and talking – or even shouting – to their companions. They might start their day playing on a particular street corner and move around the city to wherever they thought they would make more money (AMV 1913). They were forbidden to play after a certain time at night, which varied over the years. If they were lucky enough to be hired to play at a particular party or tavern, they were required to stay there and not leave. On many occasions, organilleros contravened the municipal code by leaving the tavern where they were playing and dragging noisy customers behind them as they prowled the streets in search for generous partygoers. At other times, their STREET MUSIC, HONOUR AND DEGENERATION 201 customers might encourage them to carry on playing in the streets in order to have an outdoor late-night party, much to the annoyance of neighbours (AMV 1907). Organilleros, it was therefore thought, acted as conduits that spread and propelled ‘noise’ around the city, often tearing the night’s gentle fabric. Attitudes towards organilleros varied over time. In the 1840s and 1850s, they were considered a foreign, picturesque element that added exotic colour to the city (Anon. 1841; Río 1858), and by the 1920s they were fully assimilated into local and national imaginaries. In between those two moments, they became the focus of conlicting opinions on matters such as social aid, public security, comfort, gender, degeneration and local and national identity. Perceptions of organ grinders thus became a prism through which it is possible to view critical aspects of Madrid’s society such as poverty, public hygiene and morality, the division between public and private space, and the preservation of comfort. This chapter explores the ways in which attitudes towards their music and activity helped to build the identity of the rising middle classes and, more particularly, to contribute to their sense of their distinctiveness, and to their awareness of honour. Civilization and Distinction The condemnation of organilleros in the media from the 1870s onwards (Llano 2017: ch. 8) led middle-class critics to dismiss the music of the organillo as devoid of aesthetic value and a contemptible working-class and debased entertainment. During the second half of the nineteenth century, the rising middle classes in Madrid developed a sense of what Bourdieu has called ‘distinction’ (Bourdieu 1994) in that they consumed cultural objects in ways that helped them to establish or reinforce symbolic links between themselves as a class and, thus, to build a sense of cohesion and, with it, a class identity (Cruz 2011: 1–19). The consumption of art and music became a fundamental part of a larger cultural enterprise through which the middle classes identiied with what Elias has called the ‘civilizing process’ (Elias 2000), a process whereby certain cultural objects deemed worthy of intellectual, emotional or material investment are embraced while other elements considered too rough or ‘uncivilized’ to it in the emerging class consciousness are rejected, a process in line with Hegelian and postcolonial theories that identities are mostly deined by opposition to an Other (Hegel 1977; Said 1978: 1–27). Organilleros and their music became primary Others against which Madrid’s bourgeoisie developed their sense of ‘distinction’, one predicated on the establishment, among other elements, of an ‘aural hygiene’. Azorín (José Martínez Ruiz) would argue in Castilla (1912), decades after the persecution of organilleros, that a given people’s state of civilization could be measured 202 SAMUEL LLANO by their intolerance of noise, adding that in this Spain lagged behind other European countries with its tolerance of the urban din, not least that of organilleros (Azorín 1912: 45). Before Azorín’s time and up to the 1920s, Madrid’s middle classes conceived of organillo music as ‘noise’ produced by the working classes to the detriment of the rest of society, although the working classes suffered the impact of organillo music on their nerves just like everybody else. In the literary sphere it is well captured by Baroja in his trilogy La lucha por la vida (Baroja 2011: 121, 506). This critical stance towards noise formed part of a broader picture in late nineteenth-century Europe and North America. According to Bijsterveld, noiseabaters in these geographies ‘enrolled their knowledge of good music – their cultural capital – to distinguish themselves from those who expressed a putative brutal taste’ (Bijsterveld 2008: 170). In addition to the music of organilleros and street buskers, noise-abaters in Europe and America targeted other sounds, such as those produced by factories and workshops. The case of buskers is, however, different in that attempts to silence them were made through stringent and often violent legal and police persecution. The media were used to mobilize the population against organilleros, casting the latter as uncouth and uncivilized, and construing the middle-class preference for silence as a sign of moral and aesthetic superiority. By striving to embrace a silent lifestyle the middle classes tried to make organilleros more ‘audible’, and thus more vulnerable. The identiication of the organillo with the working classes started in the 1880s, leading to the legal persecution of organilleros in subsequent decades. The organillo was widely enjoyed, over a wide social range, thus provoking fears that it could blur class differences. Eduardo de Palacio suggested that organillo music constituted a democratizing force able to tear down social barriers and pervade all layers of society, including ‘modest’ families, the ‘middle classes’ and ‘distinguished’ people (Palacio 1885). The organillo had thus become an instrument of democracy, a view resonating with Fernanlor’s appreciation that ‘organilleros were to be found at the picnics and meals of all Madrid’s lower and middle classes’ (Fernanlor 1889). Three years later Palacio would condemn organilleros, complaining of their ‘noise’ which made it impossible to study, work or rest at home (Palacio 1888). In shifting his position, Palacio is arguably an example of how the middle classes, fearing the democratizing potential of the organillo, began to disown it and associate it with the working classes. Meanwhile, champions of the organillo, in a somewhat utopian way, began to defend its music as a tool for educating the worker and elevating his taste, and as a surrogate for more expensive or sophisticated forms of entertainment that lay beyond his reach. The aristocracy for their part tried to appropriate this instrument, placing it alongside other elements of popular culture that they had fetishized, such as majismo, bullighting and lamenco, STREET MUSIC, HONOUR AND DEGENERATION 203 and thus giving it an element of social elevation (Gimeno de Flaquer 1900). As organ-grinding gradually moved towards the lower and upper fringes of society, the middle classes began to regard it as ‘exotic’, thus surrounding it with a mystique that prepared the ground for nostalgic views that gained momentum during the 1920s. Middle-class visions of the organillo as a staple of working-class culture are clearly articulated in ‘La música del pobre’, an article by Luis Taboada published in El Imparcial in 1890. Regretting the mayor’s decision earlier that year to ban organilleros, he argued for the mostly left-wing readership of El Imparcial that most people were in favour of organ-grinding, and labelled those who supported the ban as ‘anti-artistic’ (Taboada 1890). More than two decades later, in 1914, José Pastor would argue that the organillo was not to be dismissed, and could convey working-class pride and anti-bourgeois attitudes. His article in Vida manchega coincided with the rise of anarchism in Spain. Pastor described a scene in a baile, highlighting how people ‘danced close’, as to do otherwise would be to stand out as a señorito or a member of the middle classes. It was a marker of identity that, in this context, marginalized those who did not participate. The baile and organillo music thus helped to create a space where class differences were suspended and even cancelled, as long as the music played and the celebration carried on. Pastor thus viewed bailes as embodying what Bakhtin would subsequently conceptualize as the ‘carnivalesque’, a ‘dialogic’ context that gives voice temporarily to the oppressed and subdues the ‘monologic’ and ‘centripetal’ hegemony exerted by the structures of power (Bakhtin 1981). In Bakhtin’s democratizing conception of the carnival, ‘it is a special condition of the entire world, of the world’s revival and renewal, in which all take part’ (Bakhtin 1984: 8). Consistent with Bakhtin’s notion of carnival, the social composition of these bailes was indeed varied. Pastor describes an atmosphere where there might be dressmakers, ofice workers and some professional escorts in the guise of Tenorios. In sum, with the music of the organillo a mixture of the working classes’ softer and harder edges collaborated in creating an atmosphere of ‘intenso romanticismo’ (intense romanticism) and ‘abandono sensual’ (sensual abandon) (Pastor 1914). The aristocracy, as noted above, fascinated by the difference and marginality of the working classes, appropriated some of the cultural signs of the organillo. In 1900 Gimeno de Flaquer described in an article a ‘democratic party’ at the house of an aristocrat, Doña Candelaria Ruiz del Árbol, to celebrate the Day of San Isidro, a day that had from the eighteenth century been the locus of popular festivities, as captured by Goya in La pradera de San Isidro (1788). Numerous municipal records evidence the violent quarrels that took place during the festivities, suggesting perhaps that aristocrats wanted to gain 204 SAMUEL LLANO marginal aesthetic experiences of the festivities by imitating them in the safety of their private homes (AMV 1895; AMV 1898; AMV 1904). The article describes how the organillo and San Isidro whistles replaced the piano and harp at the party, and how two women danced sevillanas accompanied by a guitarist, a cantaor and castanets. Impersonated characters from the popular milieu were there, chulas and chulos, bullighters and gypsy fortune-tellers. There were also carnations, combs, wine jars, pastries and a puppet theatre. Further otherness was added through a gypsy woman with a chained bear, and a shack displaying freaks, such as a fat woman and the dwarf, both aristocrats in disguise (Gimeno de Flaquer 1900). In this carnivalesque rendition of San Isidro, the organillero, unlike his portraits in the press as a killer, represented just one of the ingredients with which the aristocracy indulged their passion for controlled forms of otherness, marginality and the carnivalesque, and was thus reduced to picturesque status. The aristocracy, relatively untroubled by the economic pressures affecting the lower classes, and whose houses did not look out on to noisy chaotic streets (Zucchi 1992: 86), appeared to live unconcerned by the work ethic, crime igures and the establishment of comfort that held the attention of the middle classes. They were thus arguably as distant from the middle classes as the organilleros themselves. What we can see from this mock San Isidro iesta shows how, in an urban context, unlike the rural one, class cultures interpenetrated one another, and this permeability explains the anxiety of the middle classes to establish and reinforce cultural boundaries, easily penetrated by the organillo. The aristocratic fondness for popular culture shown in the party described by Gimeno de Flaquer was far from a new phenomenon, and in the eighteenth century it became customary and fashionable among the Spanish and European aristocracy to imitate and appropriate elements taken from the lower classes. On the return to France of soldiers who had fought in the so-called War of Independence (1808–14), French aristocrats started to dress like bandits, bandoleros, gypsies and other marginal Spanish characters (Luxenberg 1993; Parakilas 1998). In a context where counterfeit marginality was used as a marker of distinction, organilleros became a merchandise that was traficked across competing cultural milieus. Honour and Degeneration Madrid’s local authorities, in collaboration with the police, used an incident at Carabanchel in 1889 to incriminate and control the city’s organilleros, using the press to spread the news that a group of unidentiied organilleros had killed a man on a road leading to Carabanchel, near Madrid (Llano 2017: ch. 8). News of the crime turned out to be a hoax, but not before the authorities STREET MUSIC, HONOUR AND DEGENERATION 205 had imprisoned, interrogated and inally released a group of organilleros, while the press gave wide coverage to a viliied image of the igure of the organ grinder. The zeal that journalists applied in this task was far in excess of their efforts to reveal the truth about the hoax once it had been discovered. The organilleros thus incriminated became Madrid’s new villains in the collective imaginary. A collateral effect of the incident was that organillo music was pushed towards the lower and, to a lesser extent, the upper margins of society, consolidating the process of its marginalization. Champions of the organillo extolled it for the entertainment that it could provide for both the working classes and the aristocracy. Its opponents, by contrast, saw in the Carabanchel incident an excuse to intensify their attacks and used the press to spread a criminalized portrait of the organillero. The new attacks did not focus only on noise, but took the form of commentaries on crime. It is hard to know what, if anything, might have been the truth behind the claims made by journalists, given the hyperbolic rhetoric that suggests propaganda in support of a more general persecution of organilleros. The journal El Defensor del Contribuyente, dedicated to defending the rights of consumers, industry and commerce, and with lawyers and notaries among its contributors, complained about the ‘stubbornness’ of the media regarding the supposed criminality of organ grinders, noting that the irst occupation that journalists suggested for regular criminal perpetrators was organ grinders (Lugarri 1904). Coverage of the Carabanchel incident showed the indiscriminate use of the term ‘organilleros’ for incidents in Madrid (see also Baroja 2011: 42). Journalistic articles romanticized their accounts of ‘crimes of passion’ allegedly committed by organilleros (Anon. 1903a; Anon. 1904a; Anon. 1904b; Anon. 1904c). These crimes appalled and yet fascinated journalists and their readers because they acted as a mirror of the codes and practices that prevailed among the middle classes, who were thus able to observe and assess their state of civilization. Gender violence committed by organilleros exposed the contradictions in the appropriation by the middle classes of the old aristocratic honour code, in which violence held pride of place. For Caro Baroja, the medieval concept of honor gradually yielded to honra, and in the transformation honra came to be applied to ordinary people (Caro Baroja 1966: 83–84). The honra code that emerged was still present in nineteenth-century Spain, characterized by male dominance and the use of violence to preserve or attain it. Furthermore, certain legal measures helped to legitimize it, such as Article 438 of the 1870 Penal Code that allowed a husband to take retaliation if his wife committed adultery (see Jagoe, Blanco and Enríquez 1998; Louis 2005: 58–59). Wives had no reciprocal capacity, and Article 57 of the 1889 Civil Code imposed on wives obedience to their husbands (Enríquez de Salamanca 1998: 236). 206 SAMUEL LLANO The 1870 and 1889 codes consolidated a centuries-long trajectory of legislation and social practices that enforced and endorsed the submission of wives to their husbands. Cristina Enríquez de Salamanca has argued that not all limitations suffered by Spanish women during the nineteenth century were inherited from the past, and that some were the result of the new liberal conception of women as being essentially different from men (Enríquez de Salamanca 1998: 220–24). More precisely, in the second half of the nineteenth century, the media played an unprecedented role in shaping the values (and the underlying emotional justiication) of the honra code and female submission. The expansion of the press and printed literature, and the slow but noticeable rise in literacy in this period, added to the role of newspapers and ictional literature in the construction of gender prescriptions (Beltrán Tapia 2013: 495–96). By the same count, newspaper coverage of gender crimes allegedly committed by organilleros contributed substantially to issues of honra and gender at the end of the nineteenth century. Gender inequalities in the honra code also relected class differences. For journalists, organilleros had no right to use any form of restorative violence: they had no honour to restore. If honra had been extended to the middle classes, it was not clear – at least for journalists – that it had reached the working classes. Moreover, there was a centuries-old legal precedent for discrimination against street musicians. Alfonso X’s Siete partidas of the mid-thirteenth century listed strolling minstrels among the infames, that is, those who had were tainted by dishonourable ‘infamies’ such as being born out of wedlock, being spoken about badly by their parents or the king, or being involved in prostitution (Alfonso X 2001: 86). The middle classes were thus newly appropriating honra as part of their identity, and they fought off other social groups who would claim it. To discredit the participation of organilleros in this culture, Spanish journalists of the late nineteenth century represented the alleged crimes of organilleros as desperate and fatal acts rather than empowered choices within the honour structure. Usually the murders allegedly committed by organilleros violated decorum, as they took place in public or semi-public spaces such as the bailes for which they were hired to play, and took the form of quick, bloody back-stabbings, in contrast to the more ‘honourable’ and ritualized honour murders and duels of Golden Age drama, even if these dramas often bore a weak resemblance to reality (McKendrick 1984). There was also the emerging view of criminologists. In Hampa, Rafael Salillas, one of the most prominent Spanish criminologists of the late nineteenth century, who founded the Escuela de Criminología (1903), complained that new forms of degeneration resulted from the vulgar imitation and appropriation of older, nobler habits, thus inverting the idea of honour; the new criminals STREET MUSIC, HONOUR AND DEGENERATION 207 thus contrasted with Othello (Salillas 1898: 348). By this Salillas implied that, unlike Othello, a foreigner who fought for his honour in order to be accepted in a society that rejected him, the ‘rufian’ had no honour to restore and consequently no justiication for using violence. This misappropriation by the ‘rufian’ of the honour code set in motion a degeneration of that code (Salillas 1898: 340). Early twentieth-century journalists, possibly writing under the inluence of Salillas, adopted a similar standpoint on the crimes of organilleros, believing that the working classes had appropriated, misused and corrupted some of the mechanisms on which middle-class order depended for its survival. This stance was grounded in the anxieties of the middle classes about consolidating their social position (Cruz 2011: 5–6). Interestingly, that sentiment led them to follow the same practice that they condemned in the working classes, namely, to resort to and appropriate the cultural values of the aristocracy. The middle classes thus used the press to discredit their working-class rivals, whom they identiied with the organilleros. Crimes committed by – or attributed to – organilleros, together with their alleged vagrancy and acts of burglary, were thus made to appear by journalists as signs of social degeneration. Journalists treated organilleros as culprits to blame for the state of degeneration denounced by Salillas and others. Contemporary with this, intellectuals were busy diagnosing and lamenting (rather than attempting to solve) those ills that they believed had brought the ‘nation’ to a state of political, economic and moral stagnation, epitomized in the 1898 colonial desastre. The context was ripe for Max Nordau’s ideas on degeneration to take root in Spain, within which the organillero looked like a local variant of Nordau’s degenerate man, standing in the way of the positive development of the Spanish ‘race’, and serving as a focus for individual and collective frustration and malaise: a scapegoat. This eugenicist view of the organillero was in part motivated by a heightened concern for productivity. Some critics protested that organilleros were a waste of valuable labour, as no skill was required to turn the crank of the organillo. An article published under a pseudonym (El Licenciado Veneno) protested about strong and healthy youngsters playing the organillo (Veneno 1908), comments that had particular signiicance against the contemporary backdrop of debates about the strength and health of the Spanish ‘race’. Prominent in this area was Lucas Mallada, who had voiced in Los males de la patria (1890) his concerns about the loss of virility among Spanish men and its direct impact on the crisis intellectuals saw in Spain (Cleminson and Vázquez García 2007: 175–216; Mallada 1998: 179–238). In the absence of a war, labour was seen as the ground on which the strength of a nation or ‘race’ might be tested. Within this context, organilleros represented a case of degeneration, and as their presence on the streets waned during the 1920s their manliness was consequently brought into question. In 1927 an article depicted organilleros as failed ‘Tenorios’, 208 SAMUEL LLANO men who were no longer successful with women and who had lost the manliness and masculinity that had characterized them towards the end of the nineteenth century (Torres 1927). The social milieu of the organilleros provided for further criticism on the basis of degeneration. Earlier critics had emphasized their ‘invasion’ of middleclass neighbourhoods, but towards the end of the nineteenth century they were seen as invading the leisure spaces of the baile and merendero (a built-up café in a park). In these new scenarios the organilleros had a more stable occupation, their music being legal there in the early twentieth century, as long as the required municipal fee was paid (Sa del Rey 1909). Organilleros could cater for more and less respectable social groups, both the families that dined in the merenderos during the day, and the drinkers, pimps, prostitutes and their customers who populated the bailes and merenderos at night. Departing from Pastor’s idealistic portrayal described earlier of people feeling joyous as they danced to the music of a street organillo (Pastor 1914), most journalistic testimonies depicted the baile and merendero as dens of moral degeneration, a view consistent with the portrayal of the merendero in Emilia Pardo Bazán’s Insolación (Pardo Bazán 2000: ch. VI). In addition to reporting crimes in such environments, journalists condemned the social attitudes and behaviour that they saw there. Mallada anticipated to a great extent the situation that would prevail in the early twentieth century. In 1914 a 19-year-old organillero Constantinto Gutiérrez Sanza, also known as ‘el Faroles’, was reported to have killed his partner in a merendero, after seeing her dance and then head to the lavatory with a man (Anon. 1914a; Anon. 1914b; Anon. 1914c). An article in El Liberal described Faroles as a professional pimp who had taken up the organillo as part of his role as guapo, that is, he was a pimp who played the organillo to conceal his illegal activity (Anon. 1914c). His lover and victim was 28-year-old Alfonsa Rancaño García, a former prostitute nicknamed ‘La Polaca’, who Faroles had persuaded to quit her business and live on his income. Unhappy with this situation, she had resumed her former life, much to Faroles’s resentment. On the night of the murder she was lirting with a bricklayer, Vicente García Padilla, alias ‘El Barbero’. Faroles was shocked when he saw them leave, then ran after them, mortally stabbed La Polaca in the chest, and led the scene, turning himself in a few hours later. The different sources narrating this event situate organilleros in a context of degeneration which they describe as ‘mala vida’ (low life), as it features prostitutes and pimps, and is conducive to violence (Anon. 1914a; Anon. 1914b; Anon. 1914d). Scenes like these continued to be reported up to the 1920s, associating the lives of organilleros with a world of crime and degeneration. The organillero thus began to look like a variant of the guapo, a trope with a longstanding presence in Spanish criminal and criminological literature – and a name applied to Faroles STREET MUSIC, HONOUR AND DEGENERATION 209 in the article above. Caro Baroja would later study the guapo – literally ‘handsome one’ – as both a literary myth and a historical igure, describing him as a troublemaker and his setting as the equivalent in Spain of the Neapolitan camorra (Caro Baroja 1996: 103), namely, the type of criminal society that Salillas calls hampa (Salillas 1898). The Spanish hampa has a longer tradition than its Italian counterpart as, prior to the birth of the camorra around the mid-nineteenth century, the Spanish bandit Francisco Esteban, alias ‘el guapo’ (1705), prowled Andalusian villages, engaging in criminal activities with the hampa there (Caro Baroja 1990: 106–07). Caro Baroja partly drew on Salillas, who had described the guapo as ‘an exaggeratedly atavistic type’, a product of degeneration thought to proliferate in southern areas, such as Naples or Andalucía, and absent from England or Catalonia (Salillas 1898: 505–06). As Lombroso had done in Italy, Salillas used the study of the guapo to emphasize the divide between notions of a ‘civilized’ north and a ‘backward’ south (Lombroso 1911; Pick 1986). Salillas’s analysis of the literary origins and connections of the guapo must be understood in the context of his study of the hampa. Salillas thought that the hampa, a word that originally denoted criminal societies in Early Modern Spain and was no longer in use at his time, revealed something of the ‘constitutive’ nature of the Spaniards (Salillas 1898: xi). Contradictions emerge early in his study, because, although Salillas claimed to have conducted his work through science, he relied solely on picaresque literature of the Spanish Golden Age to construct his deinition. Salillas focused his study mainly on ‘the Gypsy people’ in order to ‘precisar las ainidades entre ese pueblo y el nuestro’ (describe the afinities between that people and us) (Salillas 1898: xi). Those afinities – he argued – ‘have come to give shape, among certain characters and customs of Spain, to a collective personality that seems to have arisen from a picaresqueGypsy fusion’ (Salillas 1898: xi). The main focus of the study is the gypsy, but he includes other igures such as the guapo, a igure Salillas relates to the valentón or matón – synonyms for thug or bully – igures with an equally prominent presence in Spanish ictional and criminological literature. He later related the guapo to the igure of Don Juan, asserting that they shared a tendency to boast about their wrongdoings (Salillas 1911). Interestingly, Don Juan’s connections with the organillero / guapo igure became more pronounced in the 1920s, as shown by the article on second-class Tenorios discussed above (Torres 1927). Salillas, writing in a regeneracionista vein, also situated the guapo in a context of political corruption, claiming that this igure had fascinated but also undermined the society in which he lived, with the result that one could read a society’s political structure according to the prevalence of the guapo (Salillas 1898: 393). Salillas focuses on individual marginal characters and places them at the centre of a corrupted political system, extending from Andalucía to the rest of Spain. 210 SAMUEL LLANO By comparing the organillero with the guapo and the hampa, journalists were able to rely on criminological literature such as Salillas’s Hampa to substantiate their view that the organillero was a wrongdoer. Salillas also identiies the musical expression of the guapo in the jácara (Salillas 1898: 363), a poetic form whose content focused on criminal topics such as murder and prostitution, and which developed into a danced musical entr’acte in the seventeenth century (Pedraza Jiménez 2006). Of allegedly demeaned origins, and always regarded as a minor genre, the jácara in its most noble poetic mode attracted the attention of Quevedo, Cervantes and Calderón, all of whom authored some high-quality examples. Each jácara narrates the criminal exploits of a prostitute and a ‘ruián’, that is, the same type that Salillas would blame for corrupting the honour code. Furthermore, they are narrated in the criminal slang called germanía or jerigonza, identiied by Salillas as the language of the hampa and situated by him at the origin of the modern mala vida (Salillas 1898: 76). The prostitute and the organillero are thus the protagonists of the modern jácara. There are yet more obvious connections between Salillas’s work and the organillero as depicted by the press, including the different typologies of the guapo or matón – literally ‘killer’ – that Salillas identiies, and the brothel guapo like the pimp Faroles described above (Salillas 1898: 350). Salillas’s understanding of the jácara offers relevant insights for the study of ‘degenerate’ forms of gender violence among organilleros. Signiicantly, he see the jácara (from the Arabic zácar, or narration of a memorable deed) as an adaptation of trends found in popular literature that exemplify a popular tendency to debase or invert the nobility of popular feelings (Salillas 1898: 77–79). Finally we might note the progression from the idea of crimes committed by organilleros as an ‘inversion’ or degeneration of the honour code, to the use of the word invertido in the press to describe criminal organilleros, especially during the 1920s (Álvarez Angulo 1911), although this word was mostly used with the more usual sense of sexual inversion that it denoted at the time (Cleminson and Vázquez García 2007: 175–216). In addition, La mala vida en Madrid (1901) made yet more explicit links between Salillas’s deinitions and the press’s view of the guapo, characterizing the latter igure by his tendency to shock and kill (Bernaldo del Quirós and Llanas de Aguilaniedo 1901: 154). Furthermore, it claimed that matoides or the insane were often to be found clustered around street beggars and their music (Bernaldo del Quirós and Llanas de Aguilaniedo 1901: 331). Here and elsewhere La mala vida draws on Lombroso’s conception of the criminal as a biological product whose malice can be read in his or her physical traits and can be identiied through phrenological, medical and scientiic methods (Lombroso 1911; Pick 1986). Interestingly, while Lombroso focused on the STREET MUSIC, HONOUR AND DEGENERATION 211 criminal’s body, the reference above to music and its role in society extends the scope of this analysis to the shape of the musical instrument, which is described as being able to show ‘macabre’ forms. Descriptions of this type bordered on the fantastic and helped to blur the limits between iction and journalism. Images of organilleros as degenerate which originated in non-literary writing entered literature and iction, as writers became more and more fascinated by the picturesque features of Madrid’s underworld. This fascination was yet more evident in newspaper articles published from the early 1920s onwards. Here journalists offered verbal and – with the development of photography – visual snapshots of Madrid’s rundown neighbourhoods, such as Cambroneras, Injurias or Casablanca (Vicente Albarrán 2011: 575–77). The humorous and sarcastic Ramón Gómez de la Serna published a picaresque portrayal of the organillero in España in 1920. In a gesture that animalizes the organilleros, he describes how they ‘ocultan debajo de la visera su rubor de bestias’ (hide their bestial shame under their visor caps) (Gómez de la Serna 1920). He enhances this image by making reference to controversial igures of Madrid’s underworld, such as marginal bullighters. Thus, he compares the organillero’s attitude with a ‘suerte de matar’, that is, the body posture that the bullighter adopts before stabbing the bull to death. To round out his criminalizing portrayal, Gómez de la Serna adds that ‘the organillo plays harrowing, toothless songs, sprung from the bladed cylinders’ held inside the organillo (Gómez de la Serna 1920). By conlating bullighting, crime and degeneration, Gómez de la Serna seems to revel in images of degeneration and marginality for their own sake. Conclusion Whether in the writings of regeneracionistas or the literary avant-garde, we can see how, over a period of some forty years, organilleros became an essential ingredient in images of degeneration, and were consequently associated with crime. Exceptionally, and somewhat curiously, José Navarrete, writing for El Imparcial (1881) before discourses on degeneration had peaked, had construed organilleros as a source of social regeneration: ‘¡Cuántos pensamientos vigorizan! ¡Cuántas esperanzas alientan! (‘How many thoughts they bring to life! How many hopes they keep alive!’) (Navarrete 1881). He thus presented them as a balm for the general state of ennui and hopelessness that intellectuals had diagnosed and, to some extent, helped to create. Moreover, he argued that the music of an organillo could save lives, as it ‘hizo caer la pistola ya amartillada de la mano de un desesperado, en el momento que iba a suicidarse’ (made a cocked pistol fall from the hand of a desperate person in the moment that he was about to commit suicide) (Navarrete 1881). Defenders of the organillo could only come up with such sugary and utopian vignettes to counter the dystopian 212 SAMUEL LLANO scenes depicted by their opponents. Rather than elaborating a rational argument, Navarrete bases his defence of organilleros on undoing the most commonplace objections raised by journalists in the 1880s. He declares that he feels ‘un dulcísimo embeleso cuando llegan a mis oídos los acordes blandos y sonoros de un organillo’ (a sweet enchantment the moment that the soft and rich chords of an organillo reach [his] ears) – an impression that contrasts with complaints that its sound is shrill; he adds that organillo music is melodious as it comes through his balcony, and makes him feel peaceful (Navarrete 1881). This shows, once again, that debates on organilleros took the form of literary exercises based on intertextual exchanges rather than on a close examination of reality. This utopian detachment from reality may have prompted Navarrete to demand that the town hall should subsidize organilleros. In so doing, he antedated the process whereby the organillero became enshrined in the local and national imaginaries of Madrid and Spain after the First World War. Works Cited Aldaraca, Bridget. 1991. El ángel del hogar: Galdós and the Ideology of Domesticity in Spain. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. Alfonso X. 2001. Las siete partidas. 5 vols. In Robert I. Burns (ed.), The Dead, the Criminal, and the Marginalized. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press. Álvarez Angulo, T. 1911. ‘Canallas, aún más que criminales’. Vida Socialista, 17 December. AMV. 1895. Instruido con motivo de la Romería de San Isidro (11-38-55). ——. 1898. Expediente con motivo de la Romería de San Isidro (11-482-61). ——. 1899a. Expediente en virtud de denuncia de varios vecinos de las calles de Valenzuela y Montalbán, relativa a que la calle de la Reina Mercedes, se halla convertida en un foco infeccioso en virtud de que desde las primeras horas de la mañana es invadida por personas sin oicio ni ocupación alguna (11-483-100). ——. 1899b. Expediente relativo a que se prohíba un baile que se pretende establecer en un solar de la calle de la Puebla (11-483-81). ——. 1900. Expediente en virtud de instancia de varios vecinos pidiendo quen o se permita un baile frivólico en la plaza de la Cebada frente a la iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Gracia (11-483-167). ——. 1902. Expediente relativo al abuso que cometen los industriales instalando veladores en las puertas de sus establecimientos, y los vecinos estableciendo salones de bailes en la vía pública durante las noches de verbena (14-16-33). ——. 1904. Expediente relativo a los servicios municipales que han de instalarse en la pradera de San Isidro durante la romería del presente año (16-60-28). ——. 1907. Expediente relativo a la devolución de un piano de manubrio a D. Fermín Martínez (16-61-78). ——. 1913. Expediente dictando varias medidas de policía relativas al estacionamiento de pianos de manubrio, apertura de calas, puestos de refrescos y cumplimiento del Art. 27 de las Ordenanzas (19-442-63). Anon. 1841. ‘Los saboyardos.’ El instructor, o repertorio de historia, bellas letras y artes 94: 306–08. STREET MUSIC, HONOUR AND DEGENERATION 213 Anon. 1903a. ‘Los sucesos. Una mujer herida.’ El Día, 25 September. Anon. 1903b. ‘El crimen de hoy. Una mujer muerta.’ La Época, 17 June. Anon. 1904a. ‘El crimen de ayer. Un organillero.’ El Globo, 14 March. Anon. 1904b. ‘Suceso sangriento.’ El Imparcial, 18 June. Anon. 1904c. ‘Los organilleros.’ El Siglo Futuro, 17 June. Anon. 1914a. ‘El crimen de anoche.’ La Correspondencia Militar, 7 December. Anon. 1914b. ‘Organillero criminal. Asesinato de una mujer.’ El Imparcial, 7 December. Anon. 1914c. ‘Gentes del bronce. Crimen en las ventas.’ El Liberal, 7 December. Anon. 1914d. ‘Crimen en las ventas.’ El Liberal, 7 December. Azorín. 1912. Castilla. Madrid: Rafael Caro Raggio. Bahamonde Magro, Ángel, and Julián Toro Mérida. 1978. Burguesía, especulación y cuestión social. Madrid: Siglo XXI. Bakhtin, Mikhail. 1981 [1935]. The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. ——. 1984. Rabelais and his World. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Baroja, Pío. 2011 [1904]. La lucha por la vida. Barcelona: Red Ediciones. Beltrán Tapia, Francisco J. 2013. ‘Enclosing Literacy? Common Lands and Human Capital in Spain, 1860–1930.’ Journal of Institutional Economics 9.4: 491–515. Bernaldo del Quirós, Constancio, and José María Llanas de Aguilaniedo. 1901. La mala vida en Madrid: estudio psico-sociológico. Madrid: B. Rodríguez Serra. Bijsterveld, Karin. 2008. Mechanical Sound: Technology, Culture, and Public Problems in the Twentieth Century. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Bourdieu, Pierre. 1994. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. London: Routledge. Burns, Robert I. date?. Marginalized. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Campos, Ricardo. 2009. ‘La clasiicación de lo difuso: el concepto de “mala vida” en la literatura criminológica de cambio de siglo.’ Journal of Spanish Cultural Studies 10.4 399–422. Carballo, Borja, Fernando Vicente and Rubén Pallol. 2013. El ensanche de Madrid: historia de una capital. Madrid: Catarata. Carnicer, Ortega. 1986. ‘Jornaleros y mendigos en el Trienio Constitucional.’ In Luis Enrique Otero Carvajal and Ángel Bahamonde Magro (eds), Madrid en la sociedad del siglo XIX. 2 vols. Madrid: Comunidad de Madrid, I, 117–24. Caro Baroja, Julio. 1966. ‘Honour and Shame: A Historical Account of Several Conlicts.’ In John Peristiany (ed.), Honour and Shame: The Values of Mediterranean Society. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 79–137. ——. 1990 [1969]. Ensayo sobre la literatura de cordel. Madrid: ISTMO. ——. 1996. ‘Cárceles y asociaciones criminales en el pasado y en el presente entre Italia y España. Las asociaciones de malhechores.’ Eguzkilore 9: 101–28. Cleminson, Richard, and Francisco Vázquez García. 2007. ‘Los Invisibles’: A History of Male Homosexuality in Spain, 1850–1939. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Cohen, Sara. 2007. Decline, Renewal and the City in Popular Music Culture: Beyond the Beatles. Aldershot: Ashgate. Cruz, Jesús. 2011. The Rise of Middle-Class Culture in Nineteenth-Century Spain. Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press. Elias, Norbert. 2000. The Civilizing Process. Oxford: Blackwell. Enríquez de Salamanca, Cristina. 1998. ‘La mujer en el discurso legal del liberalismo español.’ In Catherine Jagoe, Alda Blanco and Cristina Enríquez de Salamanca (eds), 214 SAMUEL LLANO La mujer en los discursos de género: textos y contextos en el siglo XIX. Barcelona: Icaria, 219–52. Fernández García, Antonio. 1986. ‘La crisis de subsistencias en el madrid del siglo xix.’ In Luis Enrique Otero Carvajal and Ángel Bahamonde Magro (eds), Madrid en la sociedad del siglo XIX. 2 vols. Madrid: Comunidad de Madrid, I, 191–228. Fernanlor. 1889. ‘Madrid. Varios procesos y una ópera’. La Ilustración Ibérica, 30 March. Fuentes Peris, Teresa. 2003. Visions of Filth: Deviancy and Social Control in the Novels of Galdós. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press. Gimeno de Flaquer, Concepción. 1900. ‘Madrid elegante.’ El Álbum Iberoamericano, 22 May. Girard, René. 1986 [1982]. The Scapegoat. Trans. Yvonne Freccero. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Gómez de la Serna, Ramón. 1920. ‘Caprichos: el organillo.’ España, 21 August. Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. 1977 [1807]. Phenomenology of Spirit. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Jagoe, Catherine, Alda Blanco and Cristina Enríquez de Salamanca (eds). 1998. La mujer en los discursos de género: textos y contextos en el siglo XIX. Barcelona: Icaria. Llano, Samuel. 2017. Discordant Notes: Marginality and Social Control in Madrid, 1850–1930. New York: Oxford University Press. Lombroso, Cesare. 1911 [1876]. Criminal Man. New York: The Knickerbocker Press. Louis, Anja. 2005. Women and the Law: Carmen de Burgos, an Early Feminist. Woodbridge: Tamesis. Lugarri. 1904. ‘Los organilleros.’ El Defensor del Contribuyente, 25 June. Luxenberg, Alisa. 1993. ‘Over the Pyrenees and Through the Looking-Glass: French Culture Relected in Its Imagery of Spain.’ In Suzanne L. Stratton (ed.), Spain, Espagne, Spanien: Foreign Artists Discover Spain, 1800–1900. New York: Equitable Gallery, 11–32. Mallada, Lucas. 1998. La futura revolución española y otros escritos regeneracionistas. Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva. McKendrick, Melveena. 1984. ‘Honour/Vengeance in the Spanish “Comedia”: A Case of Mimetic Transference?’ The Modern Language Review 79.2: 313–35. McKinney, Collin. 2010. Mapping the Social Body: Urbanization, the Gaze, and the Novels of Galdós. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. Navarrete, José. 1881. ‘Recuerdos.’ El Imparcial, 9 May. Nordau, Max. 1895 [1892]. Degeneration. New York: Appleton & Co. Palacio, Eduardo de. 1885. ‘Organillos.’ El Imparcial, 27 August. ——. 1888. ‘Organillos.’ La Risa, 15 January. Pallol Trigueros, Rubén. 2013. Una ciudad sin límites: transformación urbana, cambio social y despertar político en Madrid, 1860–1874. Madrid: Catarata. Parakilas, James. 1998. ‘How Spain Got a Soul.’ In Jonathan Bellman (ed.), The Exotic in Western Music. Boston, MA: Northeastern University Press, 139–93. Pardo Bazán, Emilia. 2000 [1889]. Insolación: historia amorosa. Alicante: Biblioteca Virtual Miguel de Cervantes, 2000. Parsons, Deborah. 2003. A Cultural History of Madrid: Modernism and the Urban Spectacle. Oxford: Berg. Pasler, Jann. 2009. Composing the Citizen: Music as Public Utility in Third Republic France. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Pastor, José. 1914. ‘La tarde del domingo’. Vida Manchega, 5 March. STREET MUSIC, HONOUR AND DEGENERATION 215 Pedraza Jiménez, Felipe B. 2006. ‘De Quevedo a Cervantes: la génesis de la jácara’. In Anthony Close and Sandra María Fernández Vales (eds), Edad de oro cantabrigense: actas del VII Congreso de La Asociación Internacional del Siglo de Oro. Madrid: AISO, 77–88. Pérez Galdós, Benito. 1897. Misericordia. Madrid: Viuda e Hijos de Tello. Pick, Daniel. 1986. ‘The Faces of Anarchy: Lombroso and the Politics of Criminal Science in Post-Uniication Italy.’ Past and Present 21.1: 60–86. Picker, John M. 2000. ‘The Soundproof Study: Victorian Professionals, Work Space, and Urban Noise.’ Victorian Studies 42.3: 427–53. ——. 2003. Victorian Soundscapes. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Prato, Paolo. 1984. ‘Music in the Streets: The Example of Washington Square Park in New York City.’ Popular Music 4: 151–63. Río, Matías del. 1858. ‘El mono de la aldea’. Museo de Las Familias 16.1: 119–20. Sa del Rey, Enrique. 1909. ‘Los pianos de Manubrio.’ El Heraldo de Madrid, 4 July. Said, Edward. 1978. Orientalism. New York: Vintage. Salillas, Rafael. 1898. Hampa: el delincuente español. Antropología picaresca. Madrid: Librería de Victoriano Suárez. ——. 1911. ‘Don Juan Tenorio, El Guapo.’ El País, 4 November. Shubert, Adrian. 1991. ‘“Charity Properly Understood”: Changing Ideas about Poor Relief in Liberal Spain.’ Comparative Studies in Society and History 33.1: 36–55. Silvestre Rodríguez, Javier. 2001. ‘Viajes de corta distancia: una visión espacial de las migraciones interiores en España, 1877–1930’. Revista de Historia Económica 2: 247–83. Stallybrass, Peter, and Allon White. 1986. The Politics and Poetics of Transgression. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Taboada, Luis. 1890. ‘La música del pobre.’ El Imparcial, 18 June. Torres, Mauricio. 1927. ‘Tipos y iguras de un pasado reciente. El Madrid pintoresco que se va. Los organilleros, tenorios de segunda clase.’ La Voz, 16 August. Veneno, El Licenciado. 1908. ‘Curiosidades. Leyes ilarmónicas.’ El Globo, 26 January. Vicente Albarrán, Fernando. 2011. ‘Los barrios negros: el ensanche sur en la formación del moderno Madrid (1860–1931).’ PhD thesis, Universidad Complutense de Madrid. Whiteley, Sheila, Andy Bennett and Stan Hawkins. 2004. Music, Space and Place: Popular Music and Cultural Identity. Aldershot: Ashgate. Zucchi, John. 1992. The Little Slaves of the Harp: Italian Children Street Musicians in Nineteenth-Century Paris, London and New York. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press.