* "See the crossing! see what devilish crossing!"The day was exceedingly hot, and we wended our way slowly along the plains of Old Castile.With all that pertains to Spain, vastness and sublimity are associated: grand are its mountains, and no less grand are its plains, which seem of boundless extent, but which are not tame unbroken flats, like the steppes of Russia.Rough and uneven ground is continually occurring: here a deep ravine and gully worn by the wintry torrent; yonder an eminence not unfrequently craggy and savage, at whose top appears the lone solitary village.There is little that is blithesome and cheerful, but much that is melancholy.A few solitary rustics are occasionally seen toiling in the fields - fields without limit or boundary, where the green oak, the elm or the ash are unknown; where only the sad and desolate pine displays its pyramid-like form, and where no grass is to be found.And who are the travellers of these districts? For the most part arrieros, with their long trains of mules hung with monotonous tinkling bells.Behold them with their brown faces, brown dresses, and broad slouched hats; -the arrieros, the true lords of the roads of Spain, and to whom more respect is paid in these dusty ways than to dukes and condes; - the arrieros, sullen, proud, and rarely courteous, whose deep voices may be sometimes heard at the distance of a mile, either cheering the sluggish animals, or shortening the dreary way with savage and dissonant songs.
Late in the afternoon, we reached Medina del Campo, formerly one of the principal cities of Spain, though at present an inconsiderable place.Immense ruins surround it in every direction, attesting the former grandeur of this "city of the plain." The great square or market-place is a remarkable spot, surrounded by a heavy massive piazza, over which rise black buildings of great antiquity.We found the town crowded with people awaiting the fair, which was to be held in a day or two.We experienced some difficulty in obtaining admission into the posada, which was chiefly occupied by Catalans from Valladolid.These people not only brought with them their merchandise but their wives and children.Some of them appeared to be people of the worst description: there was one in particular, a burly savage-looking fellow, of about forty, whose conduct was atrocious; he sat with his wife, or perhaps concubine, at the door of a room which opened upon the court:
he was continually venting horrible and obscene oaths, both in Spanish and Catalan.The woman was remarkably handsome, but robust and seemingly as savage as himself; her conversation likewise was as frightful as his own.Both seemed to be under the influence of an incomprehensible fury.At last, upon some observation from the woman, he started up, and drawing a long knife from his girdle, stabbed at her naked bosom; she, however, interposed the palm of her hand, which was much cut.
He stood for a moment viewing the blood trickling upon the ground, whilst she held up her wounded hand, then with an astounding oath he hurried up the court to the Plaza.I went up to the woman and said, "What is the cause of this? I hope the ruffian has not seriously injured you." She turned her countenance upon me with the glance of a demon, and at last with a sneer of contempt exclaimed, "CARALS, QUE ES ESO?
Cannot a Catalan gentleman be conversing with his lady upon their own private affairs without being interrupted by you?"She then bound up her hand with a handkerchief, and going into the room brought a small table to the door, on which she placed several things as if for the evening's repast, and then sat down on a stool: presently returned the Catalan, and without a word took his seat on the threshold; then, as if nothing had occurred, the extraordinary couple commenced eating and drinking, interlarding their meal with oaths and jests.
We spent the night at Medina, and departing early next morning, passed through much the same country as the day before, until about noon we reached a small venta, distant half a league from the Duero; here we reposed ourselves during the heat of the day, and then remounting, crossed the river by a handsome stone bridge, and directed our course to Valladolid.
The banks of the Duero in this place have much beauty: they abound with trees and brushwood, amongst which, as we passed along, various birds were singing melodiously.A delicious coolness proceeded from the water, which in some parts brawled over stones or rippled fleetly over white sand, and in others glided softly over blue pools of considerable depth.By the side of one of these last, sat a woman of about thirty, neatly dressed as a peasant; she was gazing upon the water into which she occasionally flung flowers and twigs of trees.I stopped for a moment to ask a question; she, however, neither looked up nor answered, but continued gazing at the water as if lost to consciousness of all beside."Who is that woman?" said I to a shepherd, whom I met the moment after."She is mad, LAPOBRECITA," said he; "she lost her child about a month ago in that pool, and she has been mad ever since; they are going to send her to Valladolid, to the Casa de los Locos.There are many who perish every year in the eddies of the Duero; it is a bad river; VAYA USTED CON LA VIRGEN, CABALLERO." So I rode on through the pinares, or thin scanty pine forests, which skirt the way to Valladolid in this direction.
