The resident Spanish gypsies cluster together in some separate quarter of the town, or form an isolated mud-built barrio outside its walls. Dwelling apart, and without the slightest bond of sympathy with their Castilian neighbours, their outward signs of joy or grief—both demonstrative—pass unheard and ignored. In their religion—adopted perforce of law, as before set forth, and which savours of idolatry simple, with a dash of superstition and fanaticism—in their curious marriage and funereal customs—both occasions of noisy orgy, the latter resembling an Irish "wake" with its alternations of wailing by the hour "to order," and feasting in turn—the gypsies are left severely alone. There is no sympathy with them. On the other hand, when civil or political disturbances prevail, and southern fervour is all ablaze, the gypsy barrio remains spectacular and unmoved.
No "patriotic" dreams or soaring ambitions disturb the gypsy's squalid life—what has he to gain? What can he ever hope to be, but the despised and rejected, under any form of government? No list of misguided peasantry, beguiled and betrayed by base agitator, ever registers his name: the midnight meetings of the "Black Hand" find no gitano present at their sworn and secret conclaves. The vagabond is too shrewd uselessly to embroil himself in abortive efforts to upset existing order: though there is little doubt what his action would be should the opportunity of pillage with impunity ever present itself.
Los Bohemios.—There remain to be noticed the bands of nomad gypsies who flock to Spain during the winter months, but whose true home is said to be in Bohemia. These are not in touch with the native tribes, speaking but few words of Spanish or of its gypsy jargon. In summer they infest the roads and by-ways of Austria, travelling southwards, as winter advances, thus resembling in habit their British congeners. Their type of feature is of more Eastern caste, their faces almost black, with long tangled hair, in both sexes, hanging down to the shoulders. Their home is the wigwam or rickety waggon with its load of rags and babies, and its mixed team of mules, donkeys, and ponies. The lurcher-dog and the snare assist these Zingali to fill their puchero. They traverse the wilds of Spain in camps of thirty to fifty, squatting near village or outside city walls, ostensibly to occupy themselves with iron and copper tinkery, kettle-making, and the like. Some of the women of these Bohemians are striking enough in their gypsy-beauty; the same faces are seen in successive years, so their journeyings are to some extent methodical.
One meets these nomad bands all over rural Spain, laboriously "trekking" axle-deep, across dusky-brown plain or lonely waste of brushwood and palmetto—picturesque objects—indeed the only element of life and colour amidst these desolate scenes.
CHAPTER XXV.
IN SEARCH OF THE LAMMERGEYER.
A WINTER RIDE IN THE SIERRAS.
To the Lammergeyer tradition has assigned some romantic attributes, and a character of wondrous dash and daring. This is the bird that is credited with feats of hurling hunters from perilous positions down crag or crevass, carrying off children to its eyrie, and kidnapping unguarded babes. Even Dr. Bree, in his "Birds of Europe," while doubting that it habitually assails grown-up people, gravely asserts that a pair of these birds will not hesitate to attack a man whom they have caught at a disadvantage; while one will venture, single-handed, an onslaught on two hunters who are asleep. Some naturalists now seem inclined to go to the other extreme, and to regard the Lammergeyer as merely a huge Neophron.
No doubt the great size and weird, dragon-like appearance of the Gypaëtus have tended to promote exaggeration, while its rarity and remote haunts have made it no easy subject to study, and few have formed its acquaintance in its own almost inaccessible domains. Our small experiences, narrated in the two following chapters, seem to show that the truth lies between the two extremes.