Spanish Horses--Mules--Asses--Muleteers--Maragatos.
We now proceed to Spanish quadrupeds, having placed the wheel-carriages
before the horses. That of Andalucia takes precedence of all; he fetches
the highest price, and the Spaniards in general value no other breed;
they consider his configuration and qualities as perfect, and in some
respects they are right, for no horse is more elegant or more easy in
his motions, none are more gentle or docile, none are more quick in
acquiring showy accomplishments, or in performing feats of Astleyan
agility; he has very little in common with the English blood-horse; his
mane is soft and silky, and is frequently plaited with gay ribbons; his
tail is of great length, and left in all the proportions of nature, not
cropped and docked, by which Voltaire was so much offended:--
“Fiers et bizarres Anglais, qui des mêmes ciseaux
Coupez la tête aux rois, et la queue aux chevaux.”
[Sidenote: OTHER SPANISH HORSES.]
It often trails to the very ground, while the animal has perfect command
over it, lashing it on every side as a gentleman switches his cane;
therefore, when on a journey, it is usual to double and tie it up, after
the fashion of the ancient pig-tails of our sailors. The Andalucian
horse is round in his quarters, though inclined to be small in the
barrel; he is broad-chested, and always carries his head high,
especially when going a good pace; his length of leg adds to his height,
which sometimes reaches to sixteen hands; he never, however, stretches
out with the long graceful sweep of the English thorough-bred; his
action is apt to be loose and shambling, and he is given to _dishing_
with the feet. The pace is, notwithstanding, perfectly delightful. From
being very long in the pastern, the motion is broken as it were by the
springs of a carriage; their pace is the peculiar “_paso Castellano_,”
which is something more than a walk, and less than a trot, and it is
truly sedate and sedan-chair-like, and suits a grave Don, who is given,
like a Turk, to tobacco and contemplation. Those Andalucian horses which
fall when young into the hands of the officers at Gibraltar acquire a
very different action, and lay themselves better down to their work, and
gain much more in speed from the English system of training than they
would have done had they been managed by Spaniards. Taught or untaught,
this _pace_ is most gentlemanlike, and well did Beaumont and Fletcher
“Think it noble, as Spaniards do in riding,
In managing a great horse, which is princely;”
and as has been said, is the only attitude in which the kings of the
Spains, true Φιλιπποι, ought ever to be painted, witching the
world with noble horsemanship.
Many other provinces possess breeds which are more useful, though far
less showy, than the Andalucian. The horse of Castile is a strong, hardy
animal, and the best which Spain produces for mounting heavy cavalry.
The ponies of Gallicia, although ugly and uncouth, are admirably suited
to the wild hilly country and laborious population; they require very
little care or grooming, and are satisfied with coarse food and Indian
corn. The horses of Navarre, once so celebrated, are still esteemed for
their hardy strength; they have, from neglect, degenerated into ponies,
which, however, are beautiful in form, hardy, docile, sure-footed, and
excellent trotters. In most of the large towns of Spain there is a sort
of market, where horses are publicly sold; but Ronda fair, in May, is
the great Howden and Horncastle of the four provinces of Seville,
Cordova, Jaen, and Granada, and the resort of all the picturesque-looking
rogues of the south. The reader of Don Quixote need not be told that the
race of Gines Passamonte is not extinct; the Spanish _Chalanes_, or
horse-dealers, have considerable talents; but the cleverest is but a
mere child when compared to the perfection of rascality to which a real
English professor has attained in the mysteries of lying, chaunting, and
making up a horse.
[Sidenote: MULES.]
The breeding of horses was carefully attended to by the Spanish
government previously to the invasion of the French, by whom the entire
horses and brood-mares were either killed or stolen, and the buildings
and stables burnt.
The saddles used commonly in Spain are Moorish; they are made with high
peak and croup behind; the stirrup-irons are large triangularly-shaped
boxes. The food is equally Oriental, and consists of “barley and straw,”
as mentioned in the Bible. We well remember the horror of our Andalucian
groom, on our first reaching Gallicia, when he rushed in, exclaiming
that the beasts would perish, as nothing was to be had there but oats
and hay. After some difficulty he was persuaded to see if they would eat
it, which to his surprise they actually did; such, however, is habit,
that they soon fell out of condition, and did not recover until the damp
mountains were quitted for the arid plains of Castile.
[Sidenote: ASSES.]
Spaniards in general prefer mules and asses to the horse, which is more
delicate, requires greater attention, and is less sure-footed over
broken and precipitous ground. The mule performs in Spain the functions
of the camel in the East, and has something in his morale (besides his
physical suitableness to the country) which is congenial to the
character of his masters; he has the same self-willed obstinacy, the
same resignation under burdens, the same singular capability of
endurance of labour, fatigue, and privation. The mule has always been
much used in Spain, and the demand for them very great; yet, from some
mistaken crotchet of Spanish political economy (which is very Spanish),
the breeding of the mule has long been attempted to be prevented, in
order to encourage that of the horse. One of the reasons alleged was,
that the mule was a non-reproductive animal; an argument which might or
ought to apply equally to the monk; a breed for which Spain could have
shown for the first prize, both as to number and size, against any other
country in all Christendom. This attempt to force the production of an
animal far less suited to the wants and habits of the people has failed,
as might be expected. The difficulties thrown in the way have only
tended to raise the prices of mules, which are, and always were, very
dear; a good mule will fetch from 25_l._ to 50_l._, while a horse of
relative goodness may be purchased for from 20_l._ to 40_l._ Mules were
always very dear; thus Martial, like a true Andalucian Spaniard, _talks_
of one which cost more than a house. The most esteemed are those bred
from the mare and the ass, or _"garañon"_[5] some of which are of
extraordinary size; and one which Don Carlos had in his stud-house at
Aranjuez in 1832 exceeded fifteen hands in height. This colossal ass and
a Spanish infante were worthy of each other.
The mules in Spain, as in the East, have their coats closely shorn or
clipped; part of the hair is usually left on in stripes like the zebra,
or cut into fanciful patterns, like the tattooings of a New Zealand
chief. This process of shearing is found to keep the beast cooler and
freer from cutaneous disorders. The operation is performed in the
southern provinces by gipsies, who are the same tinkers, horse-dealers,
and vagrants in Spain as elsewhere. Their clipping recalls the “mulo
curto,” on which Horace could amble even to Brundusium. The operators
rival in talent those worthy Frenchmen who cut the hair of poodles on
the Pont Neuf, in the heart and brain of European civilization. Their
Spanish colleagues may be known by the shears, formidable and
classical-shaped as those of Lachesis and her sisters, which they carry
in their sashes. They are very particular in clipping the heels and
pasterns, which they say ought to be as free from superfluous hair as
the palm of a lady’s hand.
Spanish asses have been immortalised by Cervantes; they are endeared to
us by Sancho’s love and talent of imitation; he brayed so well, be it
remembered, that all the long-eared chorus joined a performer who, in
his own modest phrase, only wanted a tail to be a perfect donkey.
Spanish mayors, according to Don Quixote, have a natural talent for this
braying; but, save and except in the west of England, their right
worshipfuls may be matched elsewhere.
[Sidenote: ASSES OF LA MANCHA.]
[Sidenote: THE MULETEER.]
The humble ass, “_burro_,” “_borrico_,” is the rule, the as in præsenti,
and part and parcel of every Spanish scene: he forms the appropriate
foreground in streets or roads. Wherever two or three Spaniards are
collected together in market, _junta_, or “congregation,” there is quite
sure to be an ass among them; he is the hardworked companion of the
lower orders, to whom to work is the greatest misfortune; sufferance is
indeed the common virtue of both tribes. They may, perhaps, both wince a
little when a new burden or a new tax is laid on them by Señor Mon, but
they soon, when they see that there is no remedy, bear on and endure:
from this fellow-feeling, master and animal cherish each other at heart,
though, from the blows and imprecations bestowed openly, the former may
be thought by hasty observers to be ashamed of confessing these
predilections in public. Some under-current, no doubt, remains of the
ancient prejudices of chivalry; but Cervantes, who thoroughly understood
human nature in general, and Spanish nature in particular, has most
justly dwelt on the dear love which Sancho Panza felt for his “_Rucio_,”
and marked the reciprocity of the brute, affectionate as intelligent. In
fact, in the _Sagra_ district, near Toledo, he is called _El vecino_,
one of the householders; and none can look a Spanish ass in the face
without remarking a peculiar expression, which indicates that the hairy
fool considers himself, like the pig in a cabin of the “first gem of the
sea,” to be one of the family, _de la familia_, or _de nosotros_. La
Mancha is the paradise of mules and asses; many a Sancho at this moment
is there fondling and embracing his ass, his “_chato chatito_,”
“_romo_,” or other complimentary variations of _Snub_, with which, when
not abusing him, he delights to nickname his helpmate. In Spain, as
Sappho says, Love is γλυκυπικρον, an alternation of the
agro-dolce; nor is there any Prevention of Cruelty Society towards
animals; every Spaniard has the same right in law and equity to kick and
beat his own ass to his own liking, as a philanthropical Yankee has to
wallop his own niggar; no one ever thinks of interposing on these
occasions, any more than they would in a quarrel between a man and his
wife. The _words_ are, at all events, on one side. It is, however,
recorded _in piam memoriam_, of certain Roman Catholic asses of Spain,
that they tried to throw off one Tomas Trebiño and some other heretics,
when on the way to be burnt, being horror-struck at bearing such
monsters. Every Spanish peasant is heart-broken when injury is done to
his ass, as well he may be, for it is the means by which he lives; nor
has he much chance, if he loses him, of finding a crown when hunting for
him, as was once done, or even a government like Sancho. Sterne would
have done better to have laid the venue of his sentimentalities over a
dead ass in Spain, rather than in France, where the quadruped species is
much rarer. In Spain, where small carts and wheel-barrows are almost
unknown, and the drawing them is considered as beneath the dignity of
the Spanish man, the substitute, an ass, is in constant employ;
sometimes it is laden with sacks of corn, with wine-skins, with
water-jars, with dung, or with dead robbers, slung like sacks over the
back, their arms and legs tied under the animal’s belly. Asses’ milk,
“_leche de burra_,” is in much request during the spring season. The
brown sex drink it in order to fine their complexions and cool their
blood, “_refrescar la sangre_;” the clergy and men in office, “_los
empleados_,” to whom it is mother’s milk, swallow it in order that it
may give tone to their gastric juices. Riding on assback was accounted a
disgrace and a degradation to the Gothic hidalgo, and the Spaniards, in
the sixteenth century, mounted unrepining cuckolds, “_los cornudos
pacientes_,” on asses. Now-a-days, in spite of all these unpleasant
associations, the grandees and their wives, and even grave ambassadors
from foreign parts, during the royal residence at Aranjuez, much delight
in elevating themselves on this beast of ill omen, and “_borricadas_” or
donkey parties are all the fashion.
[Sidenote: THE MULETEER.]
[Sidenote: MARAGATOS.]
The muleteer of Spain is justly renowned; his generic term is _arriero_,
a gee-uper, for his _arre arre_ is pure Arabic, as indeed are almost all
the terms connected with his craft, as the Moriscoes were long the great
carriers of Spain. To travel with the muleteer, when the party is small
or a person is alone, is both cheap and safe; indeed, many of the most
picturesque portions of Spain, Ronda and Granada for instance, can
scarcely be reached except by walking or riding. These men, who are
constantly on the road, and going backwards and forwards, are the best
persons to consult for details; their animals are generally to be hired,
but a muleteer’s stud is not pleasant to ride, since their beasts always
travel in single files. The leading animal is furnished with a copper
bell with a wooden clapper, to give notice of their march, which is
shaped like an ice-mould, sometimes two feet long, and hangs from the
neck, being contrived, as it were, on purpose to knock the animal’s
knees as much as possible, and to emit the greatest quantity of the most
melancholy sounds, which, according to the pious origin of all bells,
were meant to scare away the Evil One. The bearer of all this
tintinnabular clatter is chosen from its superior docility and knack in
picking out a way. The others follow their leader, and the noise he
makes when they cannot see him. They are heavily but scientifically
laden. The cargo of each is divided into three portions; one is tied on
each side, and the other placed between. If the cargo be not nicely
balanced, the muleteer either unloads or adds a few stones to the
lighter portion--the additional weight being compensated by the greater
comfort with which a well-poised burden is carried. These “sumpter”
mules are gaily decorated with trappings full of colour and tags. The
head-gear is composed of different coloured worsteds, to which a
multitude of small bells are affixed; hence the saying, “_muger de mucha
campanilla_,” a woman of many bells, of much show, much noise, or
pretension. The muleteer either walks by the side of his animal or sits
aloft on the cargo, with his feet dangling on the neck, a seat which is
by no means so uncomfortable as it would appear. A rude gun, “but ’twill
serve,” and is loaded with slugs, hangs always in readiness by his side,
and often with it a guitar; these emblems of life and death paint the
unchanged reckless condition of Iberia, where extremes have ever met,
where a man still goes out of the world like a swan, with a song. Thus
accoutred, as Byron says, with “all that gave, promise of pleasure or a
grave,” the approach of the caravan is announced from afar by his
cracked or guttural voice: “How carols now the lusty muleteer!” For when
not engaged in swearing or smoking, the livelong day is passed in one
monotonous high-pitched song, the tune of which is little in harmony
with the import of the words, or his cheerful humour, being most
unmusical and melancholy; but such is the true type of Oriental
_melody_, as it is called. The same absence of thought which is shown in
England by whistling is displayed in Spain by singing. “_Quien canta sus
males espanta:_” he who sings frightens away ills, a philosophic
consolation in travel as old and as classical as Virgil:--“Cantantes
licet usque, minus via tædet, camus,” which may be thus translated for
the benefit of country gentlemen:--
If we join in doleful chorus,
The dull highway will much less bore us.
The Spanish muleteer is a fine fellow; he is intelligent, active, and
enduring; he braves hunger and thirst, heat and cold, mud and dust; he
works as hard as his cattle, never robs or is robbed; and while his
betters in this land put off everything till to-morrow except
bankruptcy, he is punctual and honest, his frame is wiry and sinewy, his
costume peculiar; many are the leagues and long, which we have ridden in
his caravan, and longer his robber yarns, to which we paid no attention;
and it must be admitted that these cavalcades are truly national and
picturesque. Mingled with droves of mules and mounted horsemen, the
zig-zag lines come threading down the mountain defiles, now tracking
through the aromatic brushwood, now concealed amid rocks and
olive-trees, now emerging bright and glittering into the sunshine,
giving life and movement to the lonely nature, and breaking the usual
stillness by the tinkle of the bell and the sad ditty of the
muleteer--sounds which, though unmusical in themselves, are in keeping
with the scene, and associated with wild Spanish rambles, just as the
harsh whetting of the scythe is mixed up with the sweet spring and
newly-mown hay-meadow.
[Sidenote: COSTUME OF THE MARAGATOS.]
There is one class of muleteers which are but little known to European
travellers--the _Maragatos_, whose head-quarters are at _San Roman_,
near _Astorga_; they, like the Jew and gipsy, live exclusively among
their own people, preserving their primeval costume and customs, and
never marrying out of their own tribe. They are as perfectly nomad and
wandering as the Bedouins, the mule only being substituted for the
camel; their honesty and industry are proverbial. They are a sedate,
grave, dry, matter-of-fact, business-like people. Their charges are
high, but the security counterbalances, as they may be trusted with
untold gold. They are the channels of all traffic between Gallicia and
the Castiles, being seldom seen in the south or east provinces. They are
dressed in leathern jerkins, which fit tightly like a cuirass, leaving
the arms free. Their linen is coarse but white, especially the shirt
collar; a broad leather belt, in which there is a purse, is fastened
round the waist. Their breeches, like those of the Valencians, are
called _Zaraguelles_, a pure Arabic word for kilts or wide drawers, and
no burgomaster of Rembrandt is more broad-bottomed. Their legs are
encased in long brown cloth gaiters, with red garters; their hair is
generally cut close--sometimes, however, strange tufts are left. A huge,
slouching, flapping hat completes the most inconvenient of travelling
dresses, and it is too Dutch to be even picturesque; but these fashions
are as unchangeable as the laws of the Medes and Persians were; nor will
any Maragato dream of altering his costume until those dressed models of
painted wood do which strike the hours of the clock on the square of
_Astorga_: _Pedro Mato_, also, another figure _costumée_, who holds a
weathercock at the cathedral, is the observed of all observers; and, in
truth, this particular costume is, as that of Quakers used to be, a
guarantee of their tribe and respectability; thus even Cordero, the rich
Maragato deputy, appeared in Cortes in this local costume.
[Sidenote: THEIR ORIGIN.]
The dress of the Maragata is equally peculiar: she wears, if married, a
sort of head-gear, _El Caramiello_, in the shape of a crescent, the
round part coming over the forehead, which is very Moorish, and
resembles those of the females in the basso-rilievos at Granada. Their
hair flows loosely on their shoulders, while their apron or petticoat
hangs down open before and behind, and is curiously tied at the back
with a sash, and their bodice is cut square over the bosom. At their
festivals they are covered with ornaments of long chains of coral and
metal, with crosses, relics, and medals in silver. Their earrings are
very heavy, and supported by silken threads, as among the Jewesses in
Barbary. A marriage is the grand feast; then large parties assemble, and
a president is chosen, who puts into a waiter whatever sum of money he
likes, and all invited must then give as much. The bride is enveloped in
a mantle, which she wears the whole day, and never again except on that
of her husband’s death. She does not dance at the wedding-ball. Early
next morning two roast chickens are brought to the bed-side of the happy
pair. The next evening ball is opened by the bride and her husband, to
the tune of the _gaita_, or Moorish bagpipe. Their dances are grave and
serious; such indeed is their whole character. The _Maragatos_, with
their honest, weather-beaten countenances, are seen with files of mules
all along the high road to La Coruña. They generally walk, and, like
other Spanish _arrieros_, although they sing and curse rather less, are
employed in one ceaseless shower of stones and blows at their mules.
The whole tribe assembles twice a year at Astorga, at the feasts of
Corpus and the Ascension, when they dance _El Canizo_, beginning at two
o’clock in the afternoon, and ending precisely at three. If any one not
a _Maragato_ joins, they all leave off immediately. The women never
wander from their homes, which their undomestic husbands always do. They
lead the hardworked life of the Iberian females of old, and now, as
then, are to be seen everywhere in these west provinces toiling in the
fields, early before the sun has risen, and late after it has set; and
it is most painful to behold them drudging at these unfeminine
vocations.
The origin of the _Maragatos_ has never been ascertained. Some consider
them to be a remnant of the Celtiberian, others of the Visigoths; most,
however, prefer a Bedouin, or caravan descent. It is in vain to question
these ignorant carriers as to their history or origin; for like the
gipsies, they have no traditions, and know nothing. _Arrieros_, at all
events, they are; and that word, in common with so many others relating
to the barb and carrier-caravan craft, is Arabic, and proves whence the
system and science were derived by Spaniards.
[Sidenote: TRAVELLING IN THE INTERIOR.]
The _Maragatos_ are celebrated for their fine beasts of burden; indeed,
the mules of Leon are renowned, and the asses splendid and numerous,
especially the nearer one approaches to the learned university of
Salamanca. The _Maragatos_ take precedence on the road; they are the
lords of the highway, being _the_ channels of commerce in a land where
mules and asses represent luggage rail trains. They know and feel their
importance, and that they are the rule, and the traveller for mere
pleasure is the exception. Few Spanish muleteers are much more polished
than their beasts, and however picturesque the scene, it is no joke
meeting a string of laden beasts in a narrow road, especially with a
precipice on one side, _cosa de España_. The _Maragatos_ seldom give
way, and their mules keep doggedly on; as the baggage projects on each
side, like the paddles of a steamer, they sweep the whole path. But all
wayfaring details in the genuine Spanish interior are calculated for the
_pack_, as in England a century back; and there is no thought bestowed
on the foreigner, who is not wanted, nay is disliked. The inns, roads,
and right sides, suit the natives and their brutes; nor will either put
themselves out of their way to please the fancies of a stranger. The
racy Peninsula is too little travelled over for its natives to adopt the
mercenary conveniences of the Swiss, that nation of innkeepers and
coach-jobbers.
[Sidenote: RIDING TOURS.]