Not one of these tumuli has, I believe, yet been properly examined, and their purpose—whether sepulchre, watch-tower, refuge, or accessory to some strange religious rite—is still a secret, though the latter supposition finds support in the fact that where there is a talayót there is in many cases an altar in its immediate vicinity. These altars or mésas—tables, as the natives call them—are composed of two gigantic slabs of dressed stone, the one imbedded in an upright position in the ground, the other balanced horizontally upon it. The altar of Trepúco consists of two fine monoliths, the lower one measuring nearly nine feet in width and standing over seven feet out of the ground; but that of the Taláto-de-Dalt far exceeds these measurements, the upright slab being nearer twelve feet in height and proportionately wide. When the upper stone had been laid in its horizontal position it was apparently considered ill-balanced, and a prop has been added in the shape of a leaning slab surmounted by a wedge. The group of monuments at this spot is the most complete that will be found in Minorca; the tumulus itself is in a chaotic state, but the altar is of unusual size, and surrounding it are seen traces of a circle of monoliths of nearly the same height as the pedestal. Just outside this enclosure is a so-called megalithic dwelling into which one can creep on hands and knees; the walls are of rough stone, and two short, thick pillars, about three feet high, uphold the large slabs that form the roof. The members of the priesthood—if such they were who tenanted these modest habitations—certainly did not err on the side of luxury in their homes.
In few countries perhaps would the splendid monoliths of these altars and the tempting quarries of building material provided by these talayóts have survived destruction as they have in Minorca. The very profusion of stone, constituting not merely a drug but a curse throughout the island, has safeguarded these old monuments more effectually than any protection founded on sentiment could have done, for it has simply never been worth anybody’s while to utilise them.
All the Minorcan country-folk live in excellent stone houses, as might be supposed, and before leaving the island we had the opportunity of visiting a solitary outlying homestead tenanted by a peasant family of a superior class. Although we were fully prepared to find signs of homely comfort in the dwellings of so industrious a people as the Minorcans, yet it was a surprise to see how excellent—not to say luxurious—were the appointments of this house. Not a room but was better furnished than those of any fonda at which we had stayed. The spacious bedrooms had handsome bedsteads, large wardrobes—an article of furniture never seen in Majorca—and one of them actually contained a fine toilet-table à l’Anglaise, with a marble top and sets of small drawers. The daughter of the house showed us the kitchen, the dairy—with its big white cheeses destined for the Mahon market—and then she took us upstairs to the attics, where hanks of homespun yarn hung from the ceiling in company with hundreds of dried sausages and home-cured hams. In one small and otherwise empty room were half a dozen faggots carefully propped together in the centre of the floor within a ring of sheeps’ wool—a scene so suggestive of sorcery that our thoughts involuntarily turned to some magic rite connected with the mysterious cromlechs of the land. But the girl informed us that this was a depôt for live stock destined for the table—and pointing out myriads of snails adhering to the sticks she assured us that they were very excellent eating when fried.
The neatness and spotlessness of the whole place it would be impossible to exaggerate. The Minorcan housewife is popularly supposed to live with a broom in one hand and a pail of whitewash in the other, and the industry and morality of the islanders make them valued colonists in any land to which they may emigrate. Early trained to habits of thrift and diligent labour in a hard school, the peasants have no sympathy with those who think to sit under the mañana tree and yet to prosper, and the tragic fate awaiting them is thus recorded in an ancient Minorcan verse:
Juan and Juanita
Go to the wood;
Monday they saddle,
Tuesday they start,
Wednesday they arrive,