Gatherings From Spain Part 6

Walking is the manner by which beasts travel, who have therefore four legs; those bipeds who follow the example of the brute animals will soon find that they will be reduced to their level in more particulars than they imagined or bargained for. Again, as no Spaniard ever walks for pleasure, and none ever perform a journey on foot except trampers and beggars, it is never supposed possible that any one else should do so except from compulsion. Pedestrians therefore are either ill received, or become objects of universal suspicion; for a Spanish authority, judging of others by himself, always takes the worst view of the stranger, whom he considers as guilty until he proves himself innocent.

Before the pleasures of a riding tour through Spain are mentioned, a few observations on the choice of companions may be made.

[Sidenote: OCCASIONAL DEPRESSION.]

Those who travel in public conveyances or with muleteers are seldom likely to be left alone. It is the horseman who strikes into out-of-the-way, unfrequented districts, who will feel the want of that important item--a travelling companion, on which, as in choosing a wife, it is easy enough to give advice. The patient must, however, administer to himself, and the selection will depend, of course, much on the taste and idiosyncracy of each individual; those unfortunate persons who are accustomed to have everything their own way, or those, happy ones, who are never less alone than when alone, and who possess the alchymy of finding resources and amus.e.m.e.nts in themselves, may perhaps find that plan to be the best; at all events, no company is better than bad company: "_mas vale ir solo, que mal acompanado_." A solitary wanderer is certainly the most unfettered as regards his notions and motions, "_no tengo padre ni madre, ni perro que me ladre_." He who has "neither father, mother, nor dog to bark at him," can read the book of Spain, as it were, in his own room, dwelling on what he likes, and skipping what he does not, as with a red Murray.

[Sidenote: SPANISH MANNERS.]

Every coin has, however, its reverse, and every rose its thorn.

Notwithstanding these and other obvious advantages, and the tendency that occupation and even hards.h.i.+ps have to drive away imaginary evils, this freedom will be purchased by occasional moments of depression; a dreary, forsaken feeling will steal over the most cheerful mind. It is not good for man to be alone; and this social necessity never comes home stronger to the warm heart than during a long-continued solitary ride through the rarely visited districts of the Peninsula. The sentiment is in perfect harmony with the abstract feeling which is inspired by the present condition of unhappy Spain, fallen from her high estate, and blotted almost from the map of Europe. Silent, sad, and lonely is her face, on which the stranger will too often gaze; her hedgeless, treeless tracts of corn-field, bounded only by the low horizon; her uninhabited, uncultivated plains, abandoned to the wild flower and the bee, and which are rendered still more melancholy by ruined castle, or village, which stand out bleaching skeletons of a former vitality. The dreariness of this abomination of desolation is increased by the singular absence of singing birds, and the presence of the vulture, the eagle, and lonely birds of prey. The wanderer, far from home and friends, feels doubly a stranger in this strange land, where no smile greets his coming, no tear is shed at his going,--where his memory pa.s.ses away, like that of a guest who tarrieth but a day,--where nothing of human life is seen, where its existence only is inferred by the rude wooden cross or stone-piled cairn, which marks the unconsecrated grave of some traveller who has been waylaid there alone, murdered, and sent to his account with all his imperfections on his head.

However confidently we have relied on past experience that such would not be our fate, yet these sorts of Spanish milestones marked with memento mori, are awkward evidences that the thing is not altogether impossible. It makes a single gentleman, whose life is not insured, not only trust to Santiago, but keep his powder dry, and look every now and then if his percussion cap fits. On these occasions the falling in with any of the nomade half-Bedouin natives is a sort of G.o.dsend; their society is quite different from that of a regular companion, for better or worse until death us do part, as it is casual, and may be taken up or dropped at convenience. The habits of all Spaniards when on the road are remarkably gregarious; a common fear acts as a cement, while the more they are in number the merrier. It is hail! well met, fellow-traveller!

and the being glad to see each other is an excellent introduction. The sight of pa.s.sengers bound our way is like speaking a strange sail on the Atlantic, _Hola Camara!_ s.h.i.+p a-hoy. This predisposition tends to make all travellers write so much and so handsomely of the lower cla.s.ses of Spaniards, not indeed more than they deserve, for they are a fine, n.o.ble race. Something of this arises, because on such occasions all parties meet on an equality; and this levelling effect, perhaps unperceived, induces many a foreigner, however proud and reserved at home, to unbend, and that unaffectedly. He treats these accidental acquaintances quite differently from the manner in which he would venture to treat the lower orders of his own country, who, probably, if conciliated by the same condescension of manner, would appear in a more amiable light, although they are inferior to the Spaniard in his Oriental goodness of manner, his perfect tact, his putting himself and others into their proper place, without either self-degradation or vulgar a.s.sumption of social equality or superior physical powers.

[Sidenote: FRIENDs.h.i.+PS.]

A long solitary ride is hardly to be recommended; it is not fair to friends who have been left anxious behind, nor is it prudent to expose oneself, without help, to the common accidents to which a horse and his rider are always liable. Those who have a friend with whom they feel they can venture to go in double harness, had better do so. It is a severe test, and the trial becomes greater in proportion as hards.h.i.+ps abound and accommodations are scanty--causes which sour the milk of human kindness, and prove indifferent restorers of stomach or temper. It is on these occasions, on a large journey and in a small _venta_, that a man finds out what his friend really is made of. While in the more serious necessities of danger, sickness, and need--a friend is one indeed, and the one thing wanting, with whom we share our last morsel and cup gladly. The salt of good fellows.h.i.+p, if it cannot work miracles as to quant.i.ty, converts the small loaf into a respectable abstract feed, by the zest and satisfaction with which it flavours it.

Nothing, moreover, cements friends.h.i.+ps for the future like having made one of these conjoint rambles, provided it did not end in a quarrel. The mere fact of having travelled _at all_ in Spain has a peculiarity which is denied to the more hackneyed countries of Europe. When we are introduced to a person who has visited these spell-casting sites, we feel as if we knew him already. There is a sort of freemasonry in having done something in common, which is not in common with the world at large. Those who are about to qualify themselves for this exclusive quality will do well not to let the party exceed five in number, three masters and two servants; two masters with two servants are perhaps more likely to be better accommodated; a third person, however, is often of use in trying journeys, as an arbiter elegantiarum et rixarum, a referee and arbitrator; for in the best regulated teams it must happen that some one will occasionally start, gib, or bolt, when the majority being against him brings the offender to his proper senses. Four eyes, again, see better than two, "_mas ven cuatro ojos que dos_."

[Sidenote: CHOICE OF HORSES.]

By attending to a few simple rules, a tour of some months' duration, and over thousands of miles, may be performed on one and the same horse, who with his rider will at the end of the journey be neither sick nor sorry, but in such capital condition as to be ready to start again. We presume that the time will be chosen when the days are long and Nature has thrown aside her wintry garb. Fine weather is the joy of the wayfarer's soul, and nothing can be more different than the aspect of Spanish villages in good or in bad weather; as in the East, during wintry rains they are the acmes of mud and misery, but let the sun s.h.i.+ne out, and all is gilded. It is the smile which lights up the habitually sad expression of a Spanish woman's face. The blessed beam cheers poverty itself, and by its stimulating, exhilarating action on the system of man, enables him to buffet against the moral evils to which countries the most favoured by climate seem, as if it were from compensation, to be more exposed than those where the skies are dull, and the winds bleak and cold.

As in our cavalry regiments, where real service is required, a perfect animal is preferred, a rider should choose a mare rather than a gelding; the use of entire horses is, however, so general in Spain, that one of such had better be selected than a mare. The day's journey will vary according to circ.u.mstances from twenty-five to forty miles. The start should be made before daybreak, and the horse well fed at least an hour before the journey is commenced, during which Spaniards, if they can, go to church, for they say that no time is ever lost on a journey by feeding horses and men and hearing ma.s.ses, _misa y cebada no es...o...b..n jornada_.

[Sidenote: TRAVELLING PACE.]

The hours of starting, of course, depend on the distance and the district. The sooner the better, as all who wish to cheat the devil must get up very early. "_Quien al demonio quiere enganar, muy temprano levanta.r.s.e ha._" It is a great thing for the traveller to reach his night quarters as soon as he can, for the first comers are the best served: borrow therefore an hour of the morning rather than from the night; and that hour, if you lose it at starting, you will never overtake in the day. Again, in the summer it is both agreeable and profitable to be under weigh and off at least an hour or two before sunrise, as the heat soon gets insupportable, and the stranger is exposed to the _tabardillo_, the coup de soleil, which, even in a smaller degree, occasions more ill health in Spain than is generally imagined, and especially by the English, who brave it either from ignorance or foolhardiness. The head should be well protected with a silk handkerchief, tied after a turban fas.h.i.+on, which all the natives do; in addition to which we always lined the inside of our hats with thickly doubled brown paper. In Andalucia, during summer, the muleteers travel by night, and rest during the day-heat, which, however, is not a satisfactory method, except for those who wish to see nothing. We have never adopted it. The early mornings and cool afternoons and evenings are infinitely preferable; while to the artist the glorious sunrises and sunsets, and the marking of mountains, and definition of forms from the long shadows, are magnificent beyond all conception. In these almost tropical countries, when the sun is high, the effect of shadow is lost, and everything looks flat and unpicturesque.

The journey should be divided into two portions, and the longest should be accomplished the first: the pace should average about five miles an hour, it being an object not to keep the animal unnecessarily on his legs: he may be trotted gently, and even up easy hills, but should always be walked down them; nay, if led, so much the better, which benefits both horse and rider. It is surprising how a steady, continued slow pace gets over the ground: _Chi va piano, va sano, e lontano_, says the Italian; _paso a paso va lejos_, step by step goes far, responds the Castilian. The end of the journey each day is settled before starting, and there the traveller is sure to arrive with the evening. Spaniards never fidget themselves to get quickly to places where n.o.body is expecting them: nor is there any good to be got in trying to hurry man or beast in Spain; you might as well think of hurrying the Court of Chancery. The animals should be rested, if possible, every fourth day, and not used during halts in towns, unless they exceed three days'

sojourn.

[Sidenote: FEEDING YOUR HORSE.]

On arriving at every halting-place, look first at the feet, and pick out any pebbles or dirt, and examine the nails and shoes carefully, to see that nothing is loose; let this inspection become a habit; do not wash the feet too soon, as the sudden chill sometimes produces fever in them: when they are cool, clean them and grease the hoof well; after that you may wash as much as you please. The best thing, however, is to feed your horse at once, before thinking of his toilet; the march will have given an appet.i.te, while the fatigue requires immediate restoration. If a horse is to be worried with cleaning, &c., he often loses heart and gets off his feed: he may be rubbed down when he has done eating, and his bed should be made up as for night, the stable darkened, and the animal left quite quiet, and the longer the better: feed him well again an hour before starting for the afternoon stage, and treat him on coming in exactly as you did in the morning. The food must be regulated by the work: when that is severe, give corn with both hands, and stint the hay and other lumber: what you want is to concentrate support by quality, not quant.i.ty. The Spaniard will tell you that one mouthful of beef is worth ten of potatoes. If your horse is an English one, it must be remembered that eight pounds' weight of barley is equal to ten of oats, as containing less husk and more mucilage or starch, which our horse-dealers know when they want to _make up_ a horse; overfeeding a horse in the hot climate of Spain, like overfeeding his rider, renders both liable to fevers and sudden inflammatory attacks, which are much more prevalent in Gibraltar than elsewhere in Spain, because our countrymen will go on exactly as if they were at home.

At all events, feed your horse well with _something or other_, or your Spanish squire will rain proverbs on you, like Sancho Panza; the belly must be filled with hay or straw, for it in reality carries the feet, _O paja o heno el vientre lleno--tripas llevan a pies_, and so forth. The Spaniards when on a journey allow their horses to drink copiously at every stream, saying that there is no juice like that of flints; and indeed they set the example, for they are all down on their bellies at every brook, swilling water, according to the proverb, like an ox, and wine when they can get it, like a king. If therefore you are riding a Spanish horse which has been accustomed to this continual tippling, let him drink, otherwise he will be fevered. If the horse has been treated in the English fas.h.i.+on, give him his water only after his meals, otherwise he will break out into weakening sweats. Should the animal ever arrive distressed, a tepid gruel, made with oatmeal or even flour, will comfort him much. At nightfall stop the feet with wet tow, or with horse dung, for that of cows will seldom be to be had in Spain, where goats furnish milk, and Dutchmen b.u.t.ter.

[Sidenote: THE HORSE'S FOOT.]

Let the feet be constantly attended to; the horse having twice as many as his rider, requires double attention, and of what use to a traveller is a quadruped that has not a leg to go upon? This is well known to those commercial gentlemen, who are the only persons now-a-days in England who make riding journeys. It is the shoe that makes or mars the horse, and no wise man, in Spain or out, who has got a four-footed hobby, or three half-crowns, should delay sending to Longman's for that admirable "Miles on the Horse's Foot." "Every knight errant," says Don Quixote, "ought to be able to shoe his own _Rosinante_ himself." _Rosin_ is pure Arabic for a hackney--at least he should know how this calceolation ought to be done. As a general rule, always take your quadruped to the forge, where the shoes can be fitted to his feet, not the feet to ready-made shoes; and if you value the comfort, the extension of life and service of your steed--_fasten the fore shoes with five nails at most in the outside, and with two only in the inside, and those near the toe_; do not in mercy fix by nails all round an unyielding rim of dead iron, to an expanding living hoof; remember also always to take with you a spare set of shoes, with nails and a hammer--for the want of a nail the shoe was lost; for the want of a shoe the rider was tost. In many parts of Spain, where there are no fine modern roads, you might almost do without any shoes at all, as the ancients did, and is done in parts of Mexico; but no unprotected hoof can stand the constant wear and tear, the filing of a macadamised highway.

[Sidenote: THE MOSQUERO.]

The horse will probably be soon in such condition as to want no more physic than his rider; a lump, however, of rock-salt, and a bit of chalk put at night into his manger, answers the same purposes as Epsoms and soda do to the master. You should wash out the long tail and mane, which is the glory of a Spanish horse, as fine hair is to a woman, with soda and water; the alkali combining with the animal grease forms a most searching detergent. A grand remedy for most of the accidents to which horses are liable on a journey, such as kicks, cuts, strains, &c., is a constant fomentation with hot water, which should be done under the immediate superintendence of the master, or it will be either done insufficiently, or not done at all; hot water, according to the groom genus, having been created princ.i.p.ally as a recipient of something stronger. A crupper and breastplate are almost indispensable, from the steep ascents and descents in the mountains. The _mosquero_, the fly-flapper, is a great comfort to the horse, as, being in perpetual motion, and hanging between his eyes, it keeps off the flies; the head-stall, or night halter, never should be removed from the bridle, but be rolled up during the day, and fastened along the side of the cheek. The long tail is also rolled up when the ways are miry, just as those of our blue jackets and horse-guards used to be.

[Sidenote: THE RIDER'S COSTUME.]

CHAPTER IX.

The Rider's Costume--Alforjas: their contents--The Bota, and How to use it--Pig Skins and Borracha--Spanish Money--Onzas and smaller Coins.

The rider's costume and accoutrements require consideration; his great object should be to pa.s.s in a crowd, either unnoticed, or to be taken for "one of us," _Uno de Nosotros_, and a member of the Iberian family--_de la Familia_: this is best effected by adopting the dress, that is usually worn by the natives when they travel on horseback, or journey by any of their national conveyances, among which Anglo-Franco mails and diligences are not yet to be reckoned; all cla.s.ses of Spaniards, on getting outside the town-gate, a.s.sume country habits, and eschew the long-tailed coats and civilization of the city; they drop pea-jackets and foreign fas.h.i.+ons, which would only attract attention, and expose the wearers to the ridicule or coa.r.s.er marks of consideration from the peasantry, muleteers, and other gentry, who rule on the road, hate novelties, and hold fast to the ways and jackets of their forefathers; the best hat, therefore, is the common _sombrero calanes_, which resemble those worn at Astley's by banditti, being of a conical shape, is edged with black velvet, ornamented with silken tufts, and looks equally well on a c.o.c.kney from London, or on a squire from Devons.h.i.+re. The jacket should be the universal fur _Zamarra_, which is made of black sheepskin, in its ordinary form, and of lambskin for those who can pay; a sash round the waist should never be forgotten, being most useful both in reality and metaphor: it sustains the loins, and keeps off the dangerous colics of Spain, by maintaining an equable heat over the abdomen; hence, to be Homerically well girt is half the battle for the Peninsular traveller.

[Sidenote: THE ALFORJAS.]

The _capa_ the cloak, or the _manta_ a striped plaid, and saddle-bags, the _Alforjas_, are absolute essentials, and should be strapped on the pommel of the saddle, as being there less heating to the horse than when placed on his flanks, and being in front, they are more handy for sudden use, since in the mountains and valleys, the rider is constantly exposed to sudden variations of wind and weather; when aeolus and Sol contend for his cloak, as in aesop's Fables, and the buckets of heaven are emptied on him as soon as the G.o.d of fire thinks him sufficiently baked.

These saddle-bags are most cla.s.sical, Oriental, and convenient; they indeed const.i.tute the genus _bagsman_, and have given their name to our riding travellers; they are the _Sarcinae_ of Cato the Censor, the _Bulgae_ of Lucilius, who made an epigram thereon:--

"c.u.m _bulga_ cnat, dormit, lavat, omnis in una.

Spes hominis _bulga_ hac devincta est caetera vita:"

which, as these indispensables are quite as necessary to the modern Spaniard, may be thus translated:--

"A good roomy bag delighteth a Roman, He is never without this appendage a minute; In bed, at the bath, at his meals,--in short no man Should fail to stow life, hope, and self away in it."

The countrymen of Sancho Panza, when on the road, make the same use of their wallets as the Romans did; they still (the was.h.i.+ng excepted) live and die with these bags, in which their hearts are deposited with their bread and cheese.

These Spanish _alforjas_, in name and appearance, are the Moorish _al h.o.r.eh_. (The F and H, like the B and V, X and J, are almost equivalent, and are used indiscriminately in Spanish cacography.) They are generally composed of cotton and worsted, and are embroidered in gaudy colours and patterns; the _correct_ thing is to have the owner's name worked in on the edge, which ought to be done by the delicate hand of his beloved mistress. Those made at Granada are very excellent; the Moorish, especially those from Morocco, are ornamented with an infinity of small ta.s.sels. Peasants, when dismounted, mendicant monks, when foraging for their convents, sling their _alforjas_ over their shoulders when they come into villages.

[Sidenote: WHAT TO STOW AWAY IN THE ALFORJAS.]

Among the contents which most people will find it convenient to carry in the _right-hand bag_, as the easiest to be got at, a pair of blue gauze wire spectacles or goggles will be found useful, as ophthalmia is very common in Spain, and particularly in the calcined central plains. The constant glare is unrelieved by any verdure, the air is dry, and the clouds of dust highly irritating from being impregnated with nitre. The best remedy is to bathe the eyes frequently with hot water, and _never to rub them when inflamed_, except with the elbows, _los ojos con los codos_. Spaniards never jest with their eyes or faith; of the two perhaps they are seriously fondest of the former, not merely when sparkling beneath the arched eyebrow of the dark s.e.x, but when set in their own heads. "I love thee like my eyes," is quite a hackneyed form of affection; nor, however wrathful and imprecatory, do they under any circ.u.mstance express the slightest uncharitable wishes in regard to the visual organs of their bitterest foe.

The whole art of the _alforjas_ is the putting into them what you want the most often, and in the most handy and accessible place. Keep here, therefore, a supply of small money for the halt and the blind, for the piteous cases of human suffering and poverty by which the traveller's eye will be pained in a land where soup-dispensing monks are done away with, and a.s.sistant new poor law commissioners not yet appointed; such charity from G.o.d's purse, _bolsa de Dios_, never impoverishes that of man, and a cheerful giver, however opposed to modern political economists, is commended in that old-fas.h.i.+oned book called the Bible.

The left half of the _alforjas_ may be apportioned to the writing and dressing cases, and the smaller each are the better.

Food for the mind must not be neglected. The travelling library, like companions, should be select and good; _libros y amigos pocos y buenos_.

The duodecimo editions are the best, as a large heavy book kills horse, rider, and reader. Books are a matter of taste; some men like Bacon, others prefer Pickwick; stow away at all events a pocket edition of the Bible, Shakspere, and Don Quixote: and if the advice of dear Dr. Johnson be worth following, one of those books that can be taken in _the hand_, and to the fire-side. Martial, a grand authority on Spanish hand-books, recommended "such sized companions on a long journey." Quartos and folios, said he, may be left at home in the book-case--

"Scrinia da magnis, _me ma.n.u.s una_ capit."

[Sidenote: THE BOTA.]

Here also keep the pa.s.sport, that indescribable nuisance and curse of continental travel, to which a free-born Briton never can get reconciled, and is apt to neglect, whereby he puts himself in the power of the worst and most troublesome people on earth. Pa.s.sports in Spain now in some degree supply the Inquisition, and have been embittered by vexatious forms borrowed from bureaucratic France.

[Sidenote: THE BOTA.]

Having thus disposed of these matters on the front bow of his saddle, to which we always added a _bota_--the pocket-pistol of Hudibras--one word on this _Bota_, which is as necessary to the rider as a saddle to his horse. This article, so Asiatic and Spanish, is at once the bottle and the gla.s.s of the people of the Peninsula when on the road, and is perfectly unlike the vitreous crockery and pewter utensils of Great Britain. A Spanish woman would as soon think of going to church without her fan, or a Spanish man to a fair without his knife, as a traveller without his _bota_. Ours, the faithful, long-tried comforter of many a dry road, and honoured now like a relic, is hung up a votive offering to the Iberian Bacchus, as the mariners in Horace suspended their damp garments to the deity who had delivered them from the dangers of water.

Its skin, now shrivelled with age and with fruitless longings for wine, is still redolent of the ruby fluid, whether the generous _Valdepenas_ or the rich _vino de Toro_: and refres.h.i.+ng to our nostrils is even an occasional smell at its red-stained orifice. There the racy wine-perfume lingers, and brings water into the mouth, it may be into the eyelid.

What a dream of Spanish odours, good, bad, and indifferent, is awakened by its well-known _borracha!_--what recollections, breathing the aroma of the balmy south, crowd in; of aromatic wastes, of leagues of thyme, whence Flora sends forth advertis.e.m.e.nts to her tiny bee-customer; of churches, all incense; of the goats and monks, long-bearded and odoriferous; of cities whose steam of garlic, ollas, oil, and tobacco rises up to the heavens, mingled with the thousand and one other continental sweets which a.s.sail a man's nose, whether he lands at Calais or Cadiz! There hangs our smelling-bottle _bota_, now a pleasure of memory; it has had its day, and is never again to be filled in torrid, thirsty Spain, nor emptied, which is better.