As an example of the class of theories alluded to, we have read that the colours of the sea-gull tribe are dark above and light below in order, on the one hand, that they may escape the searching scrutiny of the eagle soaring above, and, on the other, avoid alarming their finny prey beneath. If there was anything in this idea, it would, at least, be a hard case for those sea-birds not so coloured, and it should be added that of the birds which are so coloured several species take three or four years to attain adult dress. How do they survive those earlier years? But a very slight acquaintance with the subjects in life shows that there is actually nothing in it. Lying in one's gunning-punt, the whitest-breasted gulls, as viewed from below against the lightest of cloud backgrounds, are seen as clearly as if the bird's colour was actually black. Every detail of form and movement is clearly distinguishable—the clean-cut wings and tail, legs pressed close up under the latter, the pointed head turning from side to side as it searches the waters. Its colour makes no difference, and is no factor at all. Then from high above, from the heights of a sea-cliff, what man of even moderate vision cannot distinguish with equal ease the movements of the black-backed gull from those of the pale herring-gull and paler tern? And both eagles and surface-swimming fish are infinitely keener of vision than the sharpest-eyed of our kind.
These remarks are penned from no love of argument, nor inspired by invidious motive, but simply with a view to get at facts and thereby advance the interests of science: that is, of true knowledge.
CHAPTER X.
BRIGANDAGE IN SPAIN.
SKETCHES OF TWO ROBBER-TYPES.
I.—Vizco El Borje.
The existence of the brigand, it would appear, is desirable in order to cast a glamour of heroism over the adventures of travellers in foreign lands. Many Peninsular tourists mention encounters with "brigands," and according to some books on Spanish travel, their authors were frequently experiencing hair-breadth escapes from these gentry, who were, of course, bristling as to their persons with deadly weapons—as is, in fact, nearly every harmless peasant or goatherd one may meet in the wilds. The tendency to overcolour is, perhaps, natural to imaginative writers; but it is a mistake to rush to the other extreme, and to deny in toto the survival of this fraternity in modern Spain.
In his "Gatherings from Spain"—one of the best books ever written—Ford draws a picture of Spanish brigandage, actual and imaginary, and diagnoses the whole status of these "men of the road," as it existed in his day, with a knowledge and terseness that cannot be excelled. And although Ford wrote fifty years ago, yet his remarks stand substantially correct at the present day; the only change of importance being that measure of reclamation which half a century of equal laws has succeeded in effecting in the prowling gitano or gypsy, in Ford's day a lawless pariah, the curse of rural Spain.
Though nowadays the traveller may, and probably would, traverse Iberia in every direction without personal molestation, yet the race of José Maria, the Jack Sheppard of the Peninsula, whose safe-conduct was more effective than that of his king, is not extinct, though, like other rapacious animals, his home is now confined to mountain-fastnesses, whence he only emerges to seize by a sudden coup some opportunity for plunder, of which his satellites have sent him notice—for, by profuse generosity and terrorism, the ladron en grande holds the sparse hill-peasantry in a bond of allegiance.
Putting on one side the conventional and highly-coloured notions that pass current, the condition of bandolerismo, or brigandage, at the present day may be thus defined:—There is first the noble outlaw, or "professional" robber-king, a rare and meteoric personage, of whom anon; and there are the sneaking petty pilferers who rob as opportunity serves, or as their wild environment almost suggests. These voltigeurs of the road are normally peasants, goatherds, or mere good-for-nothings; content to confine their energies to minor larcenies, and whose poor ambitions soar no higher than relieving solitary wayfarers of their watches, loose cash, &c., as happened to a friend of ours while traversing the sierras between Paterna and Alcalá. Though a fight is no part of these footpads' tactics, yet in favourable situations a single hidden scoundrel may command the way, and dominate a dozen travellers who know not whether that sudden summons to halt and lay down their loose goods and chattels proceeds from one or from a score of assailants, concealed amid the tumbled rocks and dense underwood of a narrow pass. And, after all, it is probably wiser, if caught in such a trap, to lose a few dollars than to risk life.