Patrañas; or, Spanish Stories, Legendary and Traditional, Page 2

  PATRANAS; OR, Spanish Stories, Legendary and Traditional.

  INTRODUCTION.

  You will often have it said to you, when smarting under adisappointment, "Never mind! it is all for the best!" I dare say youare sometimes inclined to doubt the truth of this maxim; I rememberwhen I was a child I did, but I have found out in life, that it doesvery often prove true. And if you like, I will tell you one instancein which this was the case.

  In the course of one of my rambles in Spain it happened one day thatI was tempted by an old longing to make acquaintance with one of hermost out-of-the-way and primitive villages, to separate from my partyat the comfortable hotel at C---- and make my way with only one youngcompanion to a place some five miles west, called Guadaxox, a namewhich I dare say in your longest geography lesson you have never beencalled on to pronounce; and you would find it no easy matter to do so,unless I wrote it for you thus: Guadakquoth.

  Five miles' walk through the clear bright air of Spain, and the freshspring breeze charged with all the perfume from the mountains, is apleasant prospect enough; and as I can usually adapt myself to anyquarters which may fall to my lot on a march, I had little fear ofnot being sufficiently rested to perform the return journey easilybefore sunset. My companion was a hearty lad of fourteen, who hadjoined us for his Easter vacation from Eton, and the prospect proposedeven less difficulties to him.

  I think you would be amused with our little adventures by the waythrough a country in which every outline of foreground or horizon,every tree and plant, every beast or fowl, every implement ofhusbandry, every article of dress of the people, every individualthing you meet, will probably prove new to an English eye. But I mustnot dwell on these things now. I will only tell you that we had sucha bright and pleasant day as I have hardly ever known out of Spain;that we found so much to sketch and so much to interest us altogether,that we never noticed how the time passed, nor how the wind from themountains had covered the fair sky with angry clouds. It was onlywhen the first great drops of the storm patted us on the shoulderthat we realized the extent of our difficulty. We looked at thebanks of clouds and then at each other, for we each felt there waslittle chance of holding up that evening, and if it did, some of themountain paths we had to traverse would be rendered too slippery bythe torrent to be pleasant, not to say safe, for our lowland-bred feet.

  It was a contretemps which disconcerted us not a little; but we turnedwith what courage remained to see after a shelter for the night. Timeforbids me to describe the only venta, or inn, the place boasted,it will suffice to say it wanted for every comfort. It only expectedto have hardy peasants to house who would not object to the earthenfloor or the companionship of pigs and fowls in their slumbers. My Etoncompanion thought it rather manly to roll himself up in his great coatand compose himself to sleep on a board sloped from a low bench on tothe floor. For myself I preferred sitting up, and established myselfbravely in a chair, having previously taken the precaution to replenishthe lamp. The first stage of weariness was just coming on when thedoor, which there was no means of locking, was thrown rudely open, anda couple of rough carters were ushered in to take up their quarters inthe same apartment. I remonstrated at the intrusion without success,and something of an altercation ensued, in the midst of which anotherdoor, which I had not before noticed, was opened by a lady in black,who beckoned me into her room. I followed her, glad of an escape, butwith a misgiving, lest I had not mended the matter. At first sight Ihad felt inclined to set her down as "an old hag;" but as she talkedI saw intelligent benevolence in her dark eye, and traced remnants ofearly beauty in her shrivelled countenance. We were soon friends. Shewas travelling from place to place with her daughter, who supportedthem both by her exertions on the stage; she had gone on with friendsto another village that evening, so her bed was free; it did not lookinviting, and I excused myself as delicately as I could. She had thetact not to press the matter; and we continued sitting up, talkingabout the customs and legends of the people, a matter in which theold lady was well versed, and which had always had a special charmfor me. She was delighted to have some one who would listen to her"long yarn;" and I was delighted to have found a source at which tosatisfy some of my curiosity about Spanish Traditions.

  The next day, as I sat in the hotel at C---- writing down the substanceof what she had told me, and which I have embodied in the followingcollection of tales, I could not help saying to myself, "Well, it wasall for the best. I thought that storm a great annoyance yesterday,but it has procured me an acquaintance with the very subjects afterwhich I had had many fruitless researches before."

  The store thus begun has been added to since in many various wayswhich I will not detain you by narrating, as I sincerely hope youare anxious to plunge into them, and still more that they will answeryour expectations and entertain you as they did me.

  I dare say they will seem to you at first very like other storiesyou have read, but if you follow them attentively you will trace manysingular national characteristics. One in particular to which I wouldcall your attention is the spirit of humour of which the Spanish andparticularly the Andalusian people are so fond. This will sometimeslead them to what we should be inclined to consider irreverence; butit is nothing of the sort with them; and if you find them speakingwith playfulness on a sacred subject [2], it is because such a veinof faith underlies all they say that the notion of being irreverentnever occurs to them.