Spain has always been celebrated for two special manufactures—her silk and woollen goods; but for very many years these have been almost unknown beyond her own boundaries. In the time of the Moors her silken goods had a world-wide fame; and the silk-worm has been cultivated there probably from the earliest days, when it was surreptitiously introduced into Europe. Groves of mulberry trees were grown especially for sericulture in the irrigated provinces of the South, the care of the insect being undertaken by the women, while the men were employed on tasks more suitable to their strength. Native-grown spun and woven silk forms such an important part in the national costumes of the people that it has attained to great perfection without attracting much foreign notice. The silk petticoats of the women, the velvet jackets and trunk hose of the men, the beautiful silk and woollen mantas, with their deep fringes of silken or woollen balls; the madroños, or silk tufts and balls, used as decorations for the Andalusian or the gypsy hats, not to mention the beautifully soft and pure silks of Barcelona, or the silk laces made in such perfection in many parts of the country,—all these are objects of merchandise only needing to be known, to occasion a large demand, especially in these days when the French invention of weighted dyes floods the English market with something that has the outward appearance of silk, but which does not even wait for wear to disclose its real nature, but rots into holes on the drapers' shelves, and would-be smart young women of slender purses walk about in what has been well called "tin attire," in the manufacture of which the silk-worm has had only the slenderest interest.
The blankets and rugs of Palencia have been known to some few English people for many years, owing to their extreme lightness, great warmth, and literally unending wear; but it is only within the last very few years that they can be said to have had any market at all in England, and now they are called "Pyrenean" rather than Spanish goods. One of the suggestions of the little commercial circular already referred to is that Spaniards should open depots or special agencies all over England for the sale of their woollen goods, after the manner of the Jaeger Company.
The flocks of merino sheep to be seen on the wooded slopes of the Pyrenees, and all over Estremadura, following their shepherd after the manner with which Old Testament history makes us familiar, are said to be direct descendants of the old Arabian flocks, and certainly the appearance of one of these impassive-looking shepherds leading his flock to "green pastures, and beside the still waters," takes one back in the world's history in a way that few other things do. The flock know the voice of their shepherd, and follow him unquestioningly wheresoever he goes; there is no driving, no hurrying; and the same may be said of the pigs, which form such an important item in the social economy of a Spanish peasant's home.
Staying once at Castellon de la Plana, in Valencia, my delight was to watch the pig-herd and his troop. Early in the morning, at a fixed hour, he issued from his house in one of the small alleys, staff in hand, and with a curious kind of horn or whistle. This he blew as he walked along, from time to time, without turning his head, in that strange trance of passivity which distinguishes the Valencian peasant. Out from dark corners, narrow passages, mud hovels on all sides, came tearing along little pigs, big pigs, dark, light, fat, thin pigs,—pigs of every description,—and joined the procession headed by this sombre-looking herdsman, with his long stick and his blue-and-white striped manta thrown over his shoulder. By the time he had reached the end of the village he had a large herd following him. Then the whole party slowly disappeared in the distance, under the groves of cork-trees or up the mountain paths. The evening performance was more amusing still. Just about sundown the stately herdsman again appeared with his motley following. He took no manner of notice of them. He stalked majestically towards his own particular hovel, and at each corner of a lane or group of cottages the pigs said "Good night" to each other by a kick-up of their heels and a whisk of their curly little tails, and scampered off home by themselves, until, at the end of the village, only one solitary pig was following his leader—probably they shared one home between them. It seemed a peaceful, if not an absolutely happy, life!
One would expect a country with such a climate, or rather with so many climates, as Spain, to make a great feature of agriculture. It can at once produce wheat of the very finest quality, wine, oil, rice, sugar, and every kind of fruit and vegetable that is known; and it ought to be able to support a large agricultural population in comfort, and export largely. Taking into account, also, the rich mineral wealth, which should make her independent of imports of this nature, it is sad to see that in past years, even so late as 1882, wheat and flour, coal and coke, iron and tools figure amongst her imports—the first two in very large proportions. Although the vast plains of Estremadura and Castile produce the finest wheat known to commerce, the quantity, owing to the want of water, is so small in relation to the acreage under cultivation, that it does not suffice for home consumption, except in very favourable years; while the utilisation of the magnificent rivers, which now roll their waters uselessly to the sea, would make the land what it once was when the thrifty Moor held it—a thickly populated and flourishing grain-producing district. In place of the wandering flocks of sheep and pigs gaining a precarious existence on the herbage left alive by the blistering sun on an arid soil, there should be smiling homesteads and blooming gardens everywhere, trees and grateful shade where now the ground, between the rainy seasons, becomes all of one dusty, half-burnt colour, reminding one more of the "back of a mangy camel," as it has been described, than of a country that has once been fruitful and productive.
The late General Concha, Marqués del Duero, was the originator of sugar-cane cultivation. He spent a large portion of his private fortune in establishing what bids fair to be one of the most productive industries of his country. But, like most pioneers of progress, he reaped no benefit himself. His fine estates near Malaga, with their productive cane-farms, passed into other hands before he had reaped the reward of his patriotic endeavours. For a long time the cheap, bounty-fed beet sugars of Germany, which never approach beyond being an imitation of real sugar—as every housewife can testify who has tried to make jam with them—were able to undersell the produce of the cane; but the latest statistics show that this industry is now making steady progress, the production of 1899 being thirty-one thousand tons, or exactly three times that of 1899. À propos of the difference between cane and beet sugars for all domestic purposes, and the superior cheapness of the more costly article, it is satisfactory to note that in England the working classes, through their own co-operative societies, insist on being supplied with the former, knowing by experimental proof its immense superiority; and one may hope that their wisdom may spread into households where the servants pull the wires, and care nothing about economy.
Looking at the ordinary map of Spain, it appears to be ridiculous to say that the greater part of the country is in want of water. Although it is intersected by three large ranges of mountains beyond the Pyrenees, and innumerable others of smaller dimensions, thus making a great proportion of the country impossible for agriculture, it is rich in magnificent rivers and in smaller ones, all of which are allowed to run to waste in many parts of the country, while even a small portion of their waters, artificially dammed and utilised for irrigation, if only of the lands lying on each side of them, would mean wealth and prosperity and an abounding population where now the "everlasting sun" pours its rays over barren wastes. Moreover, by the growth of the wood, which once covered the plains and has been cut down, little by little, until the whole surface of the land was changed, in process of time the climate would become less dry, and vegetation more rapid and easy.
Ever since the expulsion of the Moors from Castile and Estremadura, the land has been allowed gradually to go almost out of cultivation for want of water, the wholesale devastation of forests, in combination with the lapse of all irrigation, acting as a constantly accelerating cause for the arid and unproductive condition of the once genial soil. Irrigation has been the crying want of Spain for generations past; but even now the Government scarcely seems to have awakened to its necessity. Perhaps, however, the Spaniard who goes on his way, never troubling to listen to the opinion or advice of his neighbour, has not, after all, been so wanting in common sense as some of the more energetic of his critics have thought. In spite of all the changes and disasters of successive Governments, a steady and rapid advance has been made in providing means of transport and shipping, by the construction of railways to every part of the country, the making and keeping in condition of admirable highways, and the building of breakwaters and quays in many of the seaports, so that now the output of the mines and produce of all kinds can find market within the country, or be shipped abroad freely.
A WEDDING PARTY IN ESTREMADURA