Post-Office in Spain--Travelling with post-horses--Riding
post--Mails and Diligences, Galeras, Coches de Colleras, Drivers,
and Manner of Driving, and Oaths.
A system of post, both for the despatch of letters and the conveyance of
couriers, was introduced into Spain under Philip and Juana, that is,
towards the end of the reign of our Henry VII.; whereas it was scarcely
organised in England before the government of Cromwell. Spain, which in
these matters, as well as in many others, was once so much in advance,
is now compelled to borrow her improvements from those nations of which
she formerly was the instructress: among these may be reckoned all
travelling in carriages, whether public or private.
The post-office for letters is arranged on the plan common to most
countries on the Continent: the delivery is pretty regular, but seldom
daily--twice or three times a-week. Small scruple is made by the
authorities in opening private letters, whenever they suspect the
character of the correspondence. It is as well, therefore, for the
traveller to avoid expressing the whole of his opinions of the powers
that be. The minds of men have been long troubled in Spain; civil war
has rendered them very distrustful and guarded in their _written_
correspondence--“_carta canta_,” “a letter speaks.”
There is the usual continental bother in obtaining post-horses, which
results from their being a monopoly of government. There must be a
passport, an official order, notice of departure, &c.; next ensue
vexatious regulations in regard to the number of passengers, horses,
luggage, style of carriage, and so forth. These, and other spokes put
into the wheel, appear to have been invented by clerks who sit at home
devising how to impede rather than facilitate posting at all.
[Sidenote: PUBLIC CONVEYANCES.]
Post-horses and mules are paid at the rate of seven reals each for each
post. The Spanish postilions generally, and especially if well paid,
drive at a tremendous pace, often amounting to a gallop; nor are they
easily stopped, even if the traveller desires it--they seem only to be
intent on arriving at their stages’ end, in order to indulge in the
great national joy of then doing nothing: to get there, they heed
neither ruts nor ravines; and when once their cattle are started the
inside passenger feels like a kettle tied to the tail of a mad dog, or a
comet; the wild beasts think no more of him than if he were Mazeppa:
thus money makes the mare and its driver to go, as surely in Spain as in
all other countries.
Another mode of travelling is by riding post, accompanied by a mounted
postilion, who is changed with the cattle at each relay. It is an
expeditious but fatiguing plan; yet one which, like the Tartar courier
of the East, has long prevailed in Spain. Thus our Charles I. rode to
Madrid under the name of John Smith, by which he was not likely to be
identified. The delight of Philip II., who boasted that he governed the
world from the Escorial, was to receive frequent and early intelligence;
and this desire to hear something new is still characteristic of the
Spanish government. The cabinet-couriers have the preference of horses
at every relay. The particular distances they have to perform are all
timed, and so many leagues are required to be done in a fixed time; and,
in order to encourage despatch, for every hour gained on the allowed
time, an additional sum was paid to them: hence the common expression
“_ganando horas_” gaining hours--equivalent to our old “post
haste--haste for your life.”
[Sidenote: DILIGENCES.]
[Sidenote: EXPENSES ON THE ROAD.]
The usual mode of travelling for the affluent is in the public
conveyances, which are the fashion from being novelties and only
introduced under Ferdinand VII.; previously to their being allowed at
all, serious objections were started, similar to those raised by his
late Holiness to the introduction of railways into the papal states; it
was said that these tramontane facilities would bring in foreigners, and
with them philosophy, heresy, and innovations, by which the wisdom of
Spain’s ancestors might be upset. These scruples were ingeniously got
over by bribing the monarch with a large share of the profits. Now that
the royal monopoly is broken down, many new and competing companies have
sprung up; this mode of travelling is the cheapest and safest, nor is
it thought at all beneath the dignity of “the best set,” nay royalty
itself goes by the coach. Thus the Infante Don Francisco de Paula
constantly hires the whole of the diligence to convey himself and his
family from Madrid to the sea-coast; and one reason gravely given for
Don Enrique’s not coming to marry the Queen, was that his Royal Highness
could not get a place, as the dilly was booked full. The public
carriages of Spain are quite as good as those of France, and the company
who travel in them generally more respectable and better bred. This is
partly accounted for by the expense: the fares are not very high, yet
still form a serious item to the bulk of Spaniards; consequently those
who travel in the public carriages in Spain are the class who would in
other countries travel per post. It must, however, be admitted that all
travelling in the public conveyances of the Continent necessarily
implies great discomfort to those accustomed to their own carriages; and
with every possible precaution the long journeys in Spain, of three to
five hundred miles at a stretch, are such as few English ladies can
undergo, and are, even with men, undertakings rather of necessity than
of pleasure. The mail is organized on the plan of the French
malle-poste, and offers, to those who can stand the bumping, shaking,
and churning of continued and rapid travelling without halting, a means
of locomotion which leaves nothing to be desired. The diligences also
are imitations of the lumbering French model. It will be in vain to
expect in them the neatness, the well-appointed turn-out, the quiet,
time-keeping, and infinite facilities of the English original. These
matters when passed across the water are modified to the heroic
Continental contempt for doing things in style; cheapness, which is
their great principle, prefers rope-traces to those of leather, and a
carter to a regular coachman; the usual foreign drags also exist, which
render their slow coaches and bureaucratic absurdities so hateful to
free Britons; but when one is once booked and handed over to the
conductor, you arrive in due time at the journey’s end. The “guards” are
realities; they consist of stout, armed, most picturesque, robber-like
men and no mistake, since many, before they were pardoned and pensioned,
have frequently taken a purse on the Queen’s highway; for the foreground
of your first sketch, they are splendid fellows, and worth a score of
marshals. They are provided with a complete arsenal of swords and
blunderbusses, so that the cumbrous machine rolling over the sea of
plains looks like a man-of-war, and has been compared to a marching
citadel. Again in suspicious localities a mounted escort of equally
suspicious look gallops alongside, nor is the primitive practice of
black mail altogether neglected: the consequence of these admirable
precautions is, that the diligences are seldom or never robbed; the
thing, however, is possible.
The whole of this garrisoned Noah’s ark is placed under the command of
the _Mayoral_ or conductor, who like all Spanish men in authority is a
despot, and yet, like them, is open to the conciliatory influences of a
bribe. He regulates the hours of toil and sleep, which latter--blessings,
says Sancho, on the man who invented it!--is uncertain, and depends on
the early or late arrival of the diligence and the state of the roads,
for all that is lost of the fixed time on the road is made up for by
curtailing the time allowed for repose. One of the many good effects of
setting up diligences is the bettering the inns on the road; and it is a
safe and general rule to travellers in Spain, whatever be their vehicle,
always to inquire in every town which is the _posada_ that the diligence
stops at. Persons were dispatched from Madrid to the different stations
on the great lines, to fit up houses, bed-rooms, and kitchens, and
provide everything for table, service; cooks were sent round to teach
the innkeepers to set out and prepare a proper dinner and supper. Thus,
in villages in which a few years before the use of a fork was scarcely
known, a table was laid out, clean, well served, and abundant. The
example set by the diligence inns has produced a beneficial effect,
since they offer a model, create competition, and suggest the existence
of many comforts, which were hitherto unknown among Spaniards, whose
abnegation of material enjoyments at home, and praiseworthy endurance of
privations of all kinds on journeys, are quite Oriental.
[Sidenote: BEDS FOR TRAVELLERS.]
In some of the new companies every expense is calculated in the fare, to
wit, journey, postilions, inns, &c., which is very convenient to the
stranger, and prevents the loss of much money and temper. A chapter on
the dilly is as much a standing dish in every Peninsular tour as a
bullfight or a bandit adventure, for which there is a continual demand
in the home-market; and no doubt in the long distances of Spain, where
men and women are boxed up for three or four mortal days together (the
nights not being omitted), the plot thickens, and opportunity is
afforded to appreciate costume and character; the farce or tragedy may
be spun out into as many acts as the journey takes days. In general the
order of the course is as follows: the breakfast consists at early dawn
of a cup of good stiff chocolate, which being the favourite drink of the
church and allowable even on fast days, is as nutritious as delicious.
It is accompanied by a bit of roasted or fried bread, and is followed by
a glass of cold water, to drink which is an axiom with all wise men who
respect the efficient condition of their livers. After rumbling on, over
a given number of leagues, when the passengers get well shaken together
and hungry, a regular knife and fork breakfast is provided that closely
resembles the dinner or supper which is served up later in the evening;
the table is plentiful, and the cookery to those who like oil and garlic
excellent. Those who do not, can always fall back on the bread and eggs,
which are capital; the wine is occasionally like purple blacking, and
sometimes serves also as vinegar for the salad, as the oil is said to be
used indifferently for lamps or stews; a bad dinner, especially if the
bill be long, and the wine sour, does not sweeten the passengers’
tempers; they become quarrelsome, and if they have the good luck, a
little robber skirmish gives vent to ill-humour.
[Sidenote: THE GALERA.]
At nightfall after supper, a few hours are allowed on your part to steal
whatever rest the _mayoral_ and certain _voltigeurs_, creeping and
winged, will permit; the beds are plain and clean; sometimes the
mattresses may be compared to sacks of walnuts, but there is no pillow
so soft as fatigue; the beds are generally arranged in twos, threes, and
fours, according to the size of the room. The traveller should
immediately on arriving secure his, and see that it is comfortable, for
those who neglect to get a good one must sleep in a bad. Generally
speaking, by a little management, he may get a room to himself, or at
least select his companions. There is, moreover, a real civility and
politeness shown by all classes of Spaniards, on all occasions, towards
strangers and ladies; and that even failing, a small tip, “_una
gratificacioncita_,” given beforehand to the maid, or the waiter, seldom
fails to smooth all difficulties. On these, as on all occasions in
Spain, most things may be obtained by good humour, a smile, a joke, a
proverb, a cigar, or a bribe, which, though last, is by no means the
least resource, since it will be found to mollify the hardest heart and
smooth the greatest difficulties, after civil speeches had been tried in
vain, for _Dadivas quebrantan peñas, y entra sin barrenas_, gifts break
rocks, and penetrate without gimlets; again, _Mas ablanda dinero que
palabras de Caballero_, cash softens more than a gentleman’s palaver.
The mode of driving in Spain, which is so unlike our way of handling the
ribbons, will be described presently.
Means of conveyance for those who cannot afford the diligence are
provided by vehicles of more genuine Spanish nature and discomfort; they
may be compared to the neat accommodation for man and beast which is
doled out to third-class passengers by our monopolist railway kings, who
have usurped her Majesty’s highway, and fleece her lieges by virtue of
act of Parliament.
First and foremost comes the _galera_, which fully justifies its name;
and even those who have no value for their time or bones will, after a
short trial of the rack and dislocation, exclaim,--“_que diable
allais-je faire dans cette galère?_” These machines travel periodically
from town to town, and form the chief public and carrier communication
between most provincial cities; they are not much changed from that
classical cart, the _rheda_, into which, as we read in Juvenal, the
whole family of Fabricius was conveyed. In Spain these primitive
locomotives have stood still in the general advance of this age of
progress, and carry us back to our James I., and Fynes Moryson’s
accounts of “carryers who have long covered waggons, in which they carry
passengers from city to city; but this kind of journeying is so tedious,
by reason they must take waggons very early and come very late to their
innes, none but women and people of inferior condition used to travel in
this sort.” So it is now in Spain.
[Sidenote: CARRIAGES AND CARTS.]
This _galera_ is a long cart without springs; the sides are lined with
matting, while beneath hangs a loose open net, as under the calesinas of
Naples, in which lies and barks a horrid dog, who keeps a Cerberus watch
over iron pots and sieves, and such like gipsey utensils, and who is
never to be conciliated. These _galeras_ are of all sizes; but if a
_galera_ should be a larger sort of vehicle than is wanted, then a
“_tartana_” a sort of covered tilted cart, which is very common in
Valencia, and which is so called from a small Mediterranean craft of the
same name, will be found convenient.
The packing and departure of the _galera_, when hired by a family who
remove their goods, is a thing of Spain; the heavy luggage is stowed in
first, and beds and mattresses spread on the top, on which the family
repose in admired disorder. The _galera_ is much used by the “poor
students” of Spain, a class unique of its kind, and full of rags and
impudence; their adventures have the credit of being rich and
picturesque, and recall some of the accounts of “waggon incidents” in
‘Roderick Random,’ and Smollett’s novels.
Civilization, as connected with the wheel, is still at a low ebb in
Spain, notwithstanding the numerous political revolutions. Except in a
few great towns, the quiz vehicles remind us of those caricatures at
which one laughed so heartily in Paris in 1814; and in Madrid, even down
to Ferdinand VII.’s decease, the _Prado_--its rotten row--was filled
with antediluvian carriages--grotesque coachmen and footmen to match,
which with us would be put into the British Museum; they are now, alas
for painters and authors! worn out, and replaced by poor French
imitations of good English originals.
[Sidenote: THE COCHE DE COLLERAS.]
As the genuine older Spanish ones were built in remote ages, and before
the invention of folding steps, the ascent and descent were facilitated
by a three-legged footstool, which dangled, strapped up near the door,
as appears in the hieroglyphics of Egypt 4000 years ago; a pair of
long-eared fat mules, with hides and tails fantastically cut, was driven
by a superannuated postilion in formidable jackboots, and not less
formidable cocked hat of oil-cloth. In these, how often have we seen
Spanish grandees with pedigrees as old-fashioned, gravely taking the air
and dust! These slow coaches of old Spain have been rapidly sketched by
the clever young American; such are the ups and downs of nations and
vehicles. Spain for having discovered America has in return become her
butt; she cannot go a-head; so the great dust of Alexander may stop a
bung-hole, and we too join in the laugh and forget that our
ancestors--see Beaumont and Fletcher’s ‘Maid of the Inn’--talked of
“_hurrying_ on featherbeds that move upon four-wheel Spanish
_caroches_.”
While on these wheel subjects it may be observed that the carts and
other machines of Spanish rural locomotion and husbandry have not
escaped better; when not Oriental they are Roman; rude in form and
material, they are always odd, picturesque, and inconvenient. The
peasant, for the most part, scratches the earth with a plough modelled
after that invented by Triptolemus, beats out his corn as described by
Homer, and carries his harvest home in strict obedience to the rules in
the Georgics. The iron work is iniquitous, but both sides of the
Pyrenees are centuries behind England; there, absurd tariffs prohibit
the importation of our cheap and good work in order to encourage their
own bad and dear wares--thus poverty and ignorance are perpetuated.
The carts in the north-west provinces are the unchanged _plaustra_, with
solid wheels, the Roman _tympana_ which consist of mere circles of wood,
without spokes or axles, much like mill-stones or Parmesan cheeses, and
precisely such as the old Egyptians used, as is seen in hieroglyphics,
and no doubt much resembling those sent by Joseph for his father, which
are still used by the Affghans and other unadvanced coachmakers. The
whole wheel turns round together with a piteous creaking; the drivers,
whose leathern ears are as blunt as their edgeless teeth, delight in
this excruciating _Chirrio_, Arabicè _charrar_, to make a _noise_, which
they call music, and delight in, because it is cheap and plays to them
of itself; they, moreover, think it frightens wolves, bears, and the
devil himself, as Don Quixote says, which it well may, for the wheel of
Ixion, although damned in hell, never whined more piteously. The doleful
sounds, however, serve like our waggoners’ lively bells, as warnings to
other drivers, who, in narrow paths and gorges of rocks, where two
carriages cannot pass, have this notice given them, and draw aside until
the coast is clear.
We have reserved some details and the mode of driving for the _coche de
colleras_, the _caroche_ of horse-collars, which is the real coach of
Spain, and in which we have made many a pleasant trip; it too is doomed
to be scheduled away, for Spaniards are descending from these coaches
and six to a chariot and pair, and by degrees beautifully less, to a
fly.
[Sidenote: THE COCHE DE COLLERAS.]
Mails and diligences, we have said, are only established on the
principal high roads connected with Madrid: there are but few local
coaches which run from one provincial town to another, where the
necessity of frequent and certain intercommunication is little called
for. In the other provinces, where these modern conveniences have not
been introduced, the earlier mode of travelling is the only resource
left to families of children, women, and invalids, who are unable to
perform the journey on horseback. This is the _festina lentè_, or
voiturier system; and from its long continuance in Italy and Spain, in
spite of all the improvements adopted in other countries, it would
appear to have something congenial and peculiarly fitted to the habits
and wants of those cognate nations of the south, who have a
Gotho-Oriental dislike to be hurried--_no corre priesa_, there is plenty
of time. _Sie haben zeit genug._
[Sidenote: THE MAYORAL.]
The Spanish vetturino, or “_Calesero_,” is to be found, as in Italy,
standing for hire in particular and well-known places in every principal
town. There is not much necessity for hunting for _him_; he has the
Italian instinctive perception of a stranger and traveller, and the same
importunity in volunteering himself, his cattle, and carriage, for any
part of Spain. The man, however, and his equipage are peculiarly
Spanish; his carriage and his team have undergone little change during
the last two centuries, and are the representatives of the former ones
of Europe; they resemble those vehicles once used in England, which may
still be seen in the old prints of country-houses by Kip; or, as regards
France, in the pictures of Louis XIV.’s journeys and campaigns by
Vandermeulen. They are the remnant of the once universal “coach and
six,” in which according to Pope, who was not infallible, British fair
were to delight for ever. The “_coche de colleras_” is a huge cumbrous
machine, built after the fashion of a reduced lord mayor’s coach, or
some of the equipages of the old cardinals at Rome. It is ornamented
with rude sculpture, gilding, and painting of glaring colour, but the
modern pea-jacket and round hat spoil the picture which requires
passengers dressed in brocade and full-bottomed wigs; the fore-wheels
are very low, the hind ones very high, and both remarkably narrow in the
tire; remember when they stick in the mud, and the drivers call upon
Santiago, to push the vehicle out _backwards_, as the more you draw it
forwards the deeper you get into the mire. The pole sticks out like the
bowsprit of a ship, and contains as much wood and iron work as would go
to a small waggon. The interior is lined with gay silk and gaudy plush,
adorned with lace and embroidery, with doors that open indifferently and
windows that do not shut well; latterly the general poverty and _prose_
of transpyrenean civilization has effaced much of these ornate
nationalities, both in coach and drivers; better roads and lighter
vehicles require fewer horses, which were absolutely necessary formerly
to drag the heavy concern through heavier ways.
[Sidenote: THE ZAGAL.]
[Sidenote: DRIVING IN SPAIN.]
The luggage is piled up behind, or stowed away in a front boot. The
management of driving this vehicle is conducted by two persons. The
master is called the “_mayoral_;” his helper or cad the “_mozo_,” or,
more properly, “_el zagal_,” from the Arabic, “a strong active youth.”
The costume is peculiar, and is based on that of Andalucia, which sets
the fashion all over the Peninsula, in all matters regarding
bull-fighting, horse-dealing, robbing, smuggling, and so forth. He wears
on his head a gay-coloured silk handkerchief, tied in such a manner that
the tails hang down behind; over this remnant of the Moorish turban he
places a high-peaked sugarloaf-shaped hat with broad brims; his jaunty
jacket is made either of black sheepskin, studded with silver tags and
filigree buttons, or of brown cloth, with the back, arms, and
particularly the elbows, welted and tricked out with flowers and vases,
cut in patches of different-coloured cloth and much embroidered. When
the jacket is not worn, it is usually hung over the left shoulder, after
the hussar fashion. The waistcoat is made of rich fancy silk; the
breeches of blue or green velvet plush, ornamented with stripes and
filigree buttons, and tied at the knee with silken cords and tassels;
the neck is left open, and the shirt collar turned down, and a gaudy
neck-handkerchief is worn, oftener passed through a ring than tied in a
knot; his waist is girt with a red sash, or with one of a bright yellow.
This “_faja_,"[3] a _sine quâ non_, is the old Roman zona; it serves
also for a purse, “girds the loins,” and keeps up a warmth over the
abdomen, which is highly beneficial in hot climates, and wards off any
tendency to irritable colic; in the sash is stuck the “_navaja_,” the
knife, which is part and parcel of a Spaniard, and behind the “_zagal_”
usually places his stick. The richly embroidered gaiters are left open
at the outside to show a handsome stocking; the shoes are yellow, like
those of our cricketers, and are generally made of untanned calfskin,
which being the colour of dust require no cleaning. The _caleseros_ on
the eastern coast wear the Valencian stocking, which has no feet to
it--being open at bottom, it is likened by wags to a Spaniard’s purse;
instead of top boots they wear the ancient Roman sandals, made of the
_esparto_ rush, with hempen soles, which are called “_alpargatas_,”
Arabicè _Alpalgah_. The “_zagal_” follows the fashion in dress of the
“_mayoral_,” as nearly as his means will permit him. He is the servant
of all-work, and must be ready on every occasion; nor can any one who
has ever seen the hard and incessant toil which these men undergo,
justly accuse them of being indolent--a reproach which has been cast
somewhat indiscriminately on all the lower classes of Spain; he runs by
the side of the carriage, picks up stones to pelt the mules, ties and
unties knots, and pours forth a volley of blows and oaths from the
moment of starting to that of arrival. He sometimes is indulged with a
ride by the side of the mayoral on the box, when he always uses the tail
of the hind mule to pull himself up into his seat. The harnessing the
six animals is a difficult operation; first the tackle of ropes is laid
out on the ground, then each beast is brought into his portion of the
rigging. The start is always an important ceremony, and, as our royal
mail used to do in the country, brings out all the idlers in the
vicinity. When the team is harnessed, the mayoral gets all his skeins of
ropes into his hand, the “_zagal_” his sash full of stones, the helpers
at the venta their sticks; at a given signal all fire a volley of oaths
and blows at the team, which, once in motion, away it goes, pitching
over ruts deep as routine prejudices, with its pole dipping and rising
like a ship in a rolling sea, and continues at a brisk pace, performing
from twenty-five to thirty miles a-day. The hours of starting are early,
in order to avoid the mid-day heat; in these matters the Spanish customs
are pretty much the same with the Italian; the _calesero_ is always the
best judge of the hours of departure and these minor details, which vary
according to circumstances.
Whenever a particularly bad bit of road occurs, notice is given to the
team by calling over their names, and by crying out “_arré, arré_,”
gee-up, which is varied with “_firmé, firmé_,” steady, boy, steady! The
names of the animals are always fine-sounding and polysyllabic; the
accent is laid on the last syllable, which is always dwelt on and
lengthened out with a particular
emphasis--_Căpĭtănā-ā_--_Băndŏlĕrā-ā_--_Gĕnĕrălā-ā_--_Vălĕrŏsā-ā_.
All this vocal driving is performed at the top of the voice, and,
indeed, next to scaring away crows in a field, must be considered the
best possible practice for the lungs. The team often exceeds six in
number, and never is less; the proportion of females predominates: there
is generally one male mule making the seventh, who is called “_el
macho_,” the male par excellence, like the Grand Turk, or a substantive
in a speech in Cortes, which seldom has less than half a dozen epithets:
he invariably comes in for the largest share of abuse and ill usage,
which, indeed, he deserves the most, as the male mule is infinitely more
stubborn and viciously inclined than the female. Sometimes there is a
horse of the Rosinante breed; he is called “_el cavallo_,” or rather, as
it is pronounced, “_el căvăl yō-ō_.” The horse is always the
best used of the team; to be a rider, “_caballero_,” is the Spaniard’s
synonym for gentleman; and it is their correct mode of addressing each
other, and is banded gravely among the lower orders, who never have
crossed any quadruped save a mule or a jackass.
[Sidenote: SWEARING.]
The driving a _coche de colleras_ is quite a science of itself, and is
observed in conducting _diligences_; it amuses the Spanish “_majo_” or
fancy-man as much as coach-driving does the fancy-man of England; the
great art lies not in handling the ribbons, but in the proper modulation
of the voice, since the cattle are always addressed individually by
their names; the first syllables are pronounced very rapidly; the
“_macho_,” the male mule, who is the most abused, is the only one who is
not addressed by any names beyond that of his sex: the word is repeated
with a voluble iteration; in order to make the two syllables longer,
they are strung together thus, _măchŏ--măchŏ--măchŏ--măcho-ŏ_: they begin in
semiquavers, flowing on crescendo to a semibreve or breve, so the four
words are compounded into one polysyllable. The horse, _caballo_, is
simply called so; he has no particular name of his own, which the female
mules are never without, and which they perfectly know--indeed, the
owners will say that they understand them, and all bad language, as well
as Christian women, “_como Cristianas_;” and, to do the beasts justice,
they seem more shocked and discomfited thereby than the bipeds who
profess the same creed. If the animal called to does not answer by
pricking up her ears, or by quickening her pace, the threat of “_lă
vărā_,” the stick, is added--the last argument of Spanish drivers,
men in office, and schoolmasters, with whom there is no sort of reason
equal to that of the bastinado, “_no hay tal razon, como la del
baston_.” It operates on the timorous more than “unadorned eloquence.”
The Moors thought so highly of the bastinado, that they held the stick
to be a special gift from Allah to the faithful. It holds good, _à
priori_ and _à posteriori_, to mule and boy, “_al hijo y mulo, para el
culo_;” and if the “_macho_” be in fault, and he is generally punished
to encourage the others, some abuse is added to blows, such as “_que
pĕrrō-ō_,” “what a dog!” or some unhandsome allusion to his
mother, which is followed by throwing a stone at the leaders, for no
whip could reach them from the coach-box. When any particular mule’s
name is called, if her companion be the next one to be abused, she is
seldom addressed by her name, but is spoken to as “_a la
ŏtrā-ā_,” “_aquella ŏtrā-ā_,” “Now for that other
one,” which from long association is expected and acknowledged. The team
obeys the voice and is in admirable command. Few things are more
entertaining than driving them, especially over bad roads; but it
requires much practice in Spanish speaking and swearing.
[Sidenote: SPANISH OATHS.]
[Sidenote: HINTS FOR HIRING.]
Among the many commandments that are always broken in Spain, that of
“swear not at all” is not the least. “Our army swore lustily in
Flanders,” said Uncle Toby. But few nations can surpass the Spaniards in
the language of vituperation: it is limited only by the extent of their
anatomical, geographical, astronomical, and religious knowledge; it is
so plentifully bestowed on their animals--“un muletier à ce jeu vaut
trois rois”--that oaths and imprecations seem to be considered as the
only language the mute creation can comprehend; and as actions are
generally suited to the words, the combination is remarkably effective.
As much of the traveller’s time on the road must be passed among beasts
and muleteers, who are not unlike them, some knowledge of their sayings
and doings is of great use: to be able to talk to them in their own
lingo, to take an interest in them and in their animals, never fails to
please; “_Por vida del demonio, mas sabe Usia que nosotros_;” “by the
life of the devil, your honour knows more than we,” is a common form of
compliment. When once equality is established, the master mind soon
becomes the real master of the rest. The great oath of Spain, which
ought never to be written or pronounced, practically forms the
foundation of the language of the lower orders; it is a most ancient
remnant of the phallic abjuration of the evil eye, the dreaded
fascination which still perplexes the minds of Orientals, and is not
banished from Spanish and Neapolitan superstitions.[4] The word
terminates in _ajo_, on which great stress is laid: the _j_ is
pronounced with a most Arabic, guttural aspiration. The word _ajo_ means
also garlic, which is quite as often in Spanish mouths, and is exactly
what Hotspur liked, a “mouth-filling oath,” energetic and Michael
Angelesque. The pun has been extended to onions: thus, “_ajos y
cebollas_” means oaths and imprecations. The sting of the oath is in the
“_ajo_;” all women and quiet men, who do not wish to be particularly
objurgatory, but merely to enforce and give a little additional vigour,
un soupçon d’ail, or a shotting to their discourse, drop the offensive
“_ajo_,” and say “_car_,” “_carai_,” “_caramba_.” The Spanish oath is
used as a verb, as a substantive, as an adjective, just as it suits the
grammar or the wrath of the utterer. It is equivalent also to a certain
place and the person who lives there. “_Vaya Usted al C--ajo_” is the
worst form of the angry “_Vaya Usted al demonio_,” or “_á los
infiernos_,” and is a whimsical mixture of courtesy and transportation.
“Your Grace may go to the devil, or to the infernal regions!”
Thus these imprecatory vegetables retain in Spain their old Egyptian
flavour and mystical charm; as on the Nile, according to Pliny, onions
and garlic were worshipped as adjuratory divinities. The Spaniards have
also added most of the gloomy northern Gothic oaths, which are
imprecatory, to the Oriental, which are grossly sensual. Enough of this.
The traveller who has much to do with Spanish mules and asses, biped or
quadruped, will need no hand-book to teach him the sixty-five or more
“_serments espaignols_” on which Mons. de Brantome wrote a treatise.
More becoming will it be to the English gentleman to swear not at all; a
reasonable indulgence in _Caramba_ is all that can be permitted; the
custom is more honoured in the breach than in the observance, and bad
luck seldom deserts the house of the imprecator. “_En la casa del que
jura, no falta desaventura._”
[Sidenote: HINTS FOR HIRING.]
Previously to hiring one of these “coaches of collars,” which is rather
an expensive amusement, every possible precaution should be taken in
clearly and minutely specifying everything to be done, and the price;
the Spanish “_caleseros_” rival their Italian colleagues in that
untruth, roguery, and dishonesty, which seem everywhere to combine
readily with jockeyship, and distinguishes those who handle the whip,
“do jobbings,” and conduct mortals by horses; the fee to be given to the
drivers should never be included in the bargain, as the keeping this
important item open and dependent on the good behaviour of the future
recipients offers a sure check over master and man, and other
road-classes. In justice, however, to this class of Spaniards, it may be
said that on the whole they are civil, good-humoured, and hard-working,
and, from not having been accustomed to either the screw bargaining or
alternate extravagance of the English travellers in Italy, are as
tolerably fair in their transactions as can be expected from human
nature brought in constant contact with four-legged and four-wheeled
temptations. They offer to the artist an endless subject of the
picturesque; everything connected with them is full of form, colour, and
originality. They can do nothing, whether sitting, driving, sleeping,
or eating, that does not make a picture; the same may be said of their
animals and their habits and harness; those who draw will never find the
midday halt long enough for the infinite variety of subject and scenery
to which their travelling equipage and attendants form the most peculiar
and appropriate foreground: while our modern poetasters will consider
them quite as worthy of being sung in immortal verse as the Cambridge
carrier Hobson, who was Milton’s choice.
[Sidenote: THE ANDALUCIAN HORSE.]