Tales of the Alhambra | Page 2

great tracts
cultivated with grain as far as the eye can reach, waving at times with
verdure, at other times naked and sunburnt, but he looks round in vain
for the hand that has tilled the soil. At length, he perceives some village
on a steep hill, or rugged crag, with mouldering battlements and ruined
watchtower; a strong-hold, in old times, against civil war, or Moorish
inroad; for the custom among the peasantry of congregating together
for mutual protection is still kept up in most parts of Spain, in
consequence of the maraudings of roving freebooters.
But though a great part of Spain is deficient in the garniture of groves
and forests, and the softer charms of ornamental cultivation, yet its
scenery is noble in its severity, and in unison with the attributes of its
people; and I think that I better understand the proud, hardy, frugal and
abstemious Spaniard, his manly defiance of hardships, and contempt of
effeminate indulgences, since I have seen the country he inhabits.
There is something too, in the sternly simple features of the Spanish
landscape, that impresses on the soul a feeling of sublimity. The
immense plains of the Castiles and of La Mancha, extending as far as
the eye can reach, derive an interest from their very nakedness and
immensity, and possess, in some degree, the solemn grandeur of the
ocean. In ranging over these boundless wastes, the eye catches sight
here and there of a straggling herd of cattle attended by a lonely
herdsman, motionless as a statue, with his long slender pike tapering up
like a lance into the air; or, beholds a long train of mules slowly

moving along the waste like a train of camels in the desert; or, a single
horseman, armed with blunderbuss and stiletto, and prowling over the
plain. Thus the country, the habits, the very looks of the people, have
something of the Arabian character. The general insecurity of the
country is evinced in the universal use of weapons. The herdsman in
the field, the shepherd in the plain, has his musket and his knife. The
wealthy villager rarely ventures to the market-town without his trabuco,
and, perhaps, a servant on foot with a blunderbuss on his shoulder; and
the most petty journey is undertaken with the preparation of a warlike
enterprise.
The dangers of the road produce also a mode of travelling, resembling,
on a diminutive scale, the caravans of the east. The arrieros, or carriers,
congregate in convoys, and set off in large and well-armed trains on
appointed days; while additional travellers swell their number, and
contribute to their strength. In this primitive way is the commerce of
the country carried on. The muleteer is the general medium of traffic,
and the legitimate traverser of the land, crossing the peninsula from the
Pyrenees and the Asturias to the Alpuxarras, the Serrania de Ronda,
and even to the gates of Gibraltar. He lives frugally and hardily: his
alforjas of coarse cloth hold his scanty stock of provisions; a leathern
bottle, hanging at his saddle-bow, contains wine or water, for a supply
across barren mountains and thirsty plains; a mule-cloth spread upon
the ground is his bed at night, and his pack-saddle his pillow. His low,
but clean-limbed and sinewy form betokens strength; his complexion is
dark and sunburnt; his eye resolute, but quiet in its expression, except
when kindled by sudden emotion; his demeanor is frank, manly, and
courteous, and he never passes you without a grave salutation: "Dios
guarde a usted!" "Va usted con Dios, Caballero!" ("God guard you!"
"God be with you, Cavalier!")
As these men have often their whole fortune at stake upon the burden
of their mules, they have their weapons at hand, slung to their saddles,
and ready to be snatched out for desperate defence; but their united
numbers render them secure against petty bands of marauders, and the
solitary bandolero, armed to the teeth, and mounted on his Andalusian
steed, hovers about them, like a pirate about a merchant convoy,

without daring to assault.
The Spanish muleteer has an inexhaustible stock of songs and ballads,
with which to beguile his incessant wayfaring. The airs are rude and
simple, consisting of but few inflections. These he chants forth with a
loud voice, and long, drawling cadence, seated sideways on his mule,
who seems to listen with infinite gravity, and to keep time, with his
paces, to the tune. The couplets thus chanted, are often old traditional
romances about the Moors, or some legend of a saint, or some
love-ditty; or, what is still more frequent, some ballad about a bold
contrabandista, or hardy bandolero, for the smuggler and the robber are
poetical heroes among the common people of Spain. Often, the song of
the muleteer is composed at the instant, and