The eucalyptus, originally imported from Australia, grows to a great height in Galicia, and its bark, as I have already mentioned, may be seen lying across the roads in spring-time like wide bars of iron. The black poplar lines the streets of Monforte, but it is not so common in Galicia as in Castille. Box is plentiful, and grows to a greater height than with us. There are three kinds of laurel in most of the public gardens, and the dwarf palm is also much used as a decorative tree.
The birch, betula alba, only grows in the higher zones. I found this tree on the high moorlands near the Portuguese frontier. The willow, the ash, and the Portuguese laurel grow in abundance in the valleys along the river banks, and in most places where the ground is moist. The lime is another tree that grows abundantly, and to a great height, in Galicia. In March and the early part of April the uncultivated parts of the country are gloriously yellow with gorse, ulex Europæus, which sends out long shoots and branches covered with brilliant blossom, and is altogether finer than I had ever seen it in England. When its flowering bloom is over, the peasants cut down the gorse and pound it, with some grass, into a kind of paste for their cattle; it is said to improve the flavour of their beef. They call this shrub tojo.
Tobacco also does remarkably well here, and grows to a great height, but it is not cultivated. It was in the forties of the nineteenth century that Ford wrote: “In order to benefit the Havanah, tobacco is not allowed to be grown in Spain, which it would do in perfection in the neighbourhood of Malaga; for the experiment was made, and, having turned out quite successful, the cultivation was immediately prohibited.”
Flax was very extensively grown at one time, and it is still much cultivated in Lugo and Orense; it grows also in the valley of the Ulla, round Padron. Ever since the days of Pliny, Spain has had a reputation as a flax-growing country, and Galicia has always been one of the provinces which produced the largest quantity, her damp and rainy climate being the most favourable to its growth. The ancients called the linen made from Spanish flax carbasus, and esteemed it more highly than that of Italy. The fact that the sails of ships were called carbasus has led to the conjecture that the sails of Roman ships were manufactured from Spanish cloth. Catullus mentions the beautiful Spanish handkerchiefs used by the Roman ladies, sudaria saetaba, but these received their name from a town in Valencia, Saetabis, where flax was also grown. The linen industry flourished in Galicia during the Middle Ages, but it was already in its decline in the seventh century. In 1656, Francisco Martinez de la Meta tried to rouse the Government to the danger of allowing Russia and other countries to import their manufactured goods into Spain, and thus become the ruin of the linen industry.[303] Towards the close of the eighteenth century the falling-off of this industry in Galicia was attributable partly to the fact that a great deal of bad flax was sown. In the early part of the seventeenth century, an Asturian author, Francisco Consul, wrote a treatise on the bleaching of Gallegan linen, which he considered to be the finest in Europe. In 1804, Labrada wrote that the manufacture of linen was the chief industry of Coruña, and that certain Englishmen had started factories there and imported the latest kind of carding machinery.[304] At present the peasant women carry their distaffs about with them, and spin in the fields as they mind their cows. When they wish to bleach their linen, they boil it and spread it in the sun, then boil it again and spread it once more in the sun; if by this time it is not sufficiently bleached, they repeat the process.
The potato is extensively cultivated; it forms, with maize, kidney beans, and cabbage, the chief food of the Gallegan poor. When it was first introduced, the peasants refused to plant it, but they gradually came to see its usefulness, and in 1778, when there was a famine in the land, they learned that the very rain which may spoil a harvest only fattens the potato. The value of the plant was at last brought home to them, and from that time to this it has been assiduously cultivated.
A special feature of every landscape in Galicia is its innumerable maize barns with their thatched or tiled roofs and church-like spires. There is one in the back garden of every peasant’s cottage. Maize is the most popular cereal in the province. When Borrow entered Galicia on horseback, he was surprised to find that, instead of barley, maize was given to his horses for provender, and he was equally surprised to find that the animals ate it without hesitation. Wheat, rye, barley, and millet are also cultivated, but not to the same extent as maize. The peasants sow wheat or rye and barley for their first crop, and as soon as this has been harvested they sow maize in its place, and thus get two harvests in the year. Opinions differ as to the ultimate advantage of this practice.
Galicia is essentially a vine country; from time immemorial her vines have been appreciated, but rather for their abundance than their quality, as too little care has been bestowed upon their cultivation. Of late years disease has crept into the vineyards, and heavy loss has been experienced in consequence. A new kind of vine is now being introduced from America as likely to withstand disease better than the old kinds. The American vines can easily be distinguished from the older kinds, for they grow on sticks like hops, while the gnarled branches of the latter are trained over trellis-work made of the local bamboo. Every peasant house has its vine-covered verandah, and the beauty of many a Gallegan landscape is greatly due to the vine-clad terraces that cover the hillsides. In the early spring, when the branches are still bare, they look, in the distance, like fishermen’s nets spread out to dry in the sun.
Most of the peasants grow grapes for themselves and make sufficient wine to supply their own households. A peasant who lived in a little cottage near Orense showed me in an outhouse a large vat in which he made his wine. The vat, which was of oak, lay on its side; it was strongly bound with wood and iron, and had a square hole on the upper side into which the grapes were put. My informant explained to me that as soon as the grapes were in the vat he would wash himself thoroughly, and then, wearing no garment but a shirt, which he drew up round his waist, he would get into the vat and proceed to stamp upon the grapes till they were reduced to a soft pulp. This process he would repeat three days following,[305] kneading the grapes for about twenty minutes on each occasion. “I then close the vat and leave it for a month,” he continued, “after which I can draw the wine from the tap, and it flows clear and is quite ready for the table.”
“But what are those long black boxes above the vat?” I asked.
“Those are coffins,” was the reply. “I keep a store of them, and sell them to my neighbours when wanted at six pesetas” (five shillings) “apiece. It is convenient to have them ready, as our village is so far from any town.”