A Vagabond in Spain

Front matter

A VAGABOND IN SPAIN A VAGABOND'S PASSPORT. A VAGABOND IN SPAIN. BY C. BOGUE LUFFMANN LONDON: JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 1895. Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viuey, Ld., London and Aylesbury- DEDICATION. '/ "HE days of rich patrons have gone by ; the wanderer and tale-teller are 'without a friend ! But as I owe the pleasures of my journey to the poor of Spain, it is to than I turn ; — to those who gave me of their simple fare and protection in pigsties, fowl-houses, and barns ; of their cold and warm floors in prisons, hospitals, and palaces ; of the cool shade of their dear Mother Church, castle ramparts, and posada chimney corners ; — to all who have given me tlieir meanest crust, their " maravedi"* their full-hearted pity, tlieir blessing, smile, or praise. With all the many simple and varied friends who helped me on my way must be joined the name of one who has been my constant companion and support ; one who throughout each day has been a defence against * Mite.

VI DEDICATION. malicious hands, and each night has lain beside me ; — the friend on whom I have leaned and been helped forward over all the long and stony road, who has humoured all my wanderings, and in the hardest times kept his dear old head ever close to mine. To my hosts in Spain, and to the one companion who is still strong and willing to accompany me to the end — to " Durandal," my walking-stick, I dedicate this story of the journey we have made.

Preface

r I book claims to be nothing more than the *■ experiences and impressions of a tramp in Spain. My journey has not been a mere caprice. It was undertaken with the object of getting a practical knowledge of the condition of agriculture in Spain, and of learning to understand the life and social conditions of the common people. Although warned by the English, French, and Spanish authorities that I should certainly receive my quietus at the hands of some of the murderous brigands believed to exist in wild Spain, I was able to make the journey of one thousand five hundred miles, alone and unarmed, without a single inter ruption or insult. After a trot through the Gironde and the great pine forests of the Landes, I passed through the Basque provinces and crossed the Pyrenees into Spain. On my way from Biarritz to

PREFACE.

. Malaga, I crossed ten great barriers — the Pyrenees, the Arriba Mountains, Montes de Navarra, Sierra de Moncayo, Sierra Minestra, Montes de Toledo, Sierra Morena, Sierra Nevada, Sierra Alhama, and Sierra Tajedra. The last three being covered with deep snow afforded anything but a comfortable experience to the lonely pilgrim. As much time as I could spare from my practical researches (which will find no place in these vagabond pages) was devoted to visiting the famous cities and monuments of old historic Spain. La Mancha, fragrant with the memory of the immortal Don, had special attractions for me, and an account of the famous Cave of Montesinos (Albacete), where Don Quixote encountered Merlin, will be found in my journal. During the journey of one hundred and forty-five days and nights, I lived entirely in the society of Spaniards (chiefly of the humbler classes), conforming myself strictly to local conditions and customs, and keeping eyes and ears well open.

I hope the kindly reader will be satisfied with the result. A word to disarm criticism. I frankly own this to be an egotistical journal. The personal pronoun " I " plays first fiddle throughout my tale This is readily explained by the fact that " I " was

PREFACE.

. IX my own guide, philosopher, and friend, my own " mentor," my own companion, sometimes my own consoler, and always my own judge. Another word in defence of my position as a tramp. Across my MS. a friend's hand has written : " The tramp's is an ignoble life ; he does nothing, he earns nothing," together with the profound, deep-reasoned inquiry, " What right has one person to live on the work of others ? " This last question is so broad that it embraces most of the great social problems of our day. Had I time, I might endeavour to show that the majority of the comfortable classes live in no other way. If I had travelled through Spain as a first class tourist, I should have seen and heard no more than is known to all the world. As a tramp I have broken up new ground. I have looked on life through a tramp's eyes, suffered his sorrows, and rejoiced in his pleasures.

I did not act the character. I lived the life in real earnest. The vagrant's rest-house was my only hotel ; the succour doled out by the alcalde my only means of sustenance. Had I lined my pocket with gold before setting forth on my journey I could never have found courage to fulfil the hard X

PREFACE.

. task I had set before me. Every now and then, when I reached a large city, I came up — for the time being — to a higher level. But the money I drew there was spent within the precincts of the city, and, — out on the road once more, — I lived the life of an ordinary wayfarer. How else could I have penetrated into humble homes and learned to know the life of the toiling masses ? The road across Spain is long to him who takes it on foot ; but it repays the toil. It reveals wonders in nature and in art, which will with difficulty be rivalled elsewhere. It shows the Spaniard under many and varied aspects, for every native of Spain is not either a courtier or a cut-throat. All that this tramp saw, and a little of what he felt, is at the reader's disposal. If this journal, written on the spot it deals with, can enable others to see and feel with the writer, they will not regret their journey in his company. C. B. L PAGE 19 CONTENTS.

Chapter I. Vascongadas

My start. — Prophets of woe. — From Biarritz to St. Jean de Luz. — Behobia. — I am in Spain. — A night in Renteria. — San Sebastian. — The Valley of Orio. — The inn of Andoain. — Tolosa. — Symptoms of fever. — The turnpike keeper. — Farewell to Vascongadas .... I

Chapter II. Navarra

In the mountains. — The Arriba Pass. — Down with fever.— A good Samaritan. — Basque women. — The Arga. — The Gorge of Irurzun. — The capital of Navarra. — Nocturnal adventures. — The church. — " Here is peace ! "

Chapter III

navarra (continued). From Pamplona to Tafalla. — Olite. — Houses in the rocks. — The Wold of Caparroso. — An alabaster desert. — A man and a brother (Senor J. Z.). — Tudela. — The Imperial Canal. — My impressions of Navarra . . . . CONTENTS.

Chapter IV. Arragox

PAGE A threshing-floor. — The Valley of the Ebro. — An unknown cit}'. — Alcala. — The Palace of Pedrola. — Work and wages. — Dress. — Stiletto-wearing. — Zaragoza . . 46

Chapter V

arragon (continued). In Zaragoza. — Statue of Pignatelli. — The theatre. — The Cathedral of the Holy Family.— The Town Hall.—'* At the soot of the tower." — The Virgin and the pillar. — Goya and his work. — The life of the Spanish actor. — The moonlight promenade. — Am I a penitent ? . .61

Chapter VI

arragon (continued}. La Almunia de Dona Godina. — Doorless churches. — St. Iago's Day. — A terrible journey. — The tailor of Sabinan: "The Maiden's Bell." — Calatayud. — A geological picture. — The Jalon's banks. — The baths of Alhama. — Ariza. — My impressions of Arragon . . -77

Chapter VII. Old And New Castile

A toy church. — The palace of the Marquis of Castile. — San Maria de Huerta. — Soap of old Castile. — Spanish babies. — A useful companion. — Arcos. — The last of the Jalon. — The carpenter of Esteraz. — New Castile. — Algara. — The Henares. — A blind beggar. — Guadalajara. — Alcala, the birthplace of Cervantes. — My Undine. — Arrival in Madrid ........ CONTENTS. XIII

Chapter VIII. Old Madrid

PAGE A modern city — The carved doors of San Francesco. — The Museum. — Tbe Palace Moncloa. — A bull-fight. — The Escurial. — "The Song of the Shirt." — The shadow of death .......... 127

Chapter IX. Old And New Castile

From Madrid to Aranjuez. — -Pinto, "the centre of the world." — The big bridge. — English elms. — A shady walk. — Aranjuez. — A toy court. — My fellow-countrymen. — A tramp's appetite. — The black Tagus. — The Royal Palace. — En route for Toledo. — Moorish industry. — An airy bed-chamber. — Toledo from the bridge. — A neglected shrine. — The church the home of the lonely 143

Chapter X. Old And New Castile

(continued). Farewell to the Tagus. — A bed on 'a wet floor. — Sonseca. — Orgaz. — A Sunday morning. — The Valley of Yebenes. — The Montes de Toledo. — A hospitable goatherd. — A costume of leather. — Malagon. — Ciudad-Real. — A Church procession. — My fellow-countryman. — The Hotel Pissarossa and its round table of knights. — A learned ecclesiastic. — The battle-field of Los Arcos. — Farewell to dreamy old Ciudad-Real .... 165

Chapter XI. Old And New Castile

(CCntilllied). In Don Quixote's country. — La Mancha. — Valdepenas.- Almagro, the land of vineyards. — A Spanish fair. CONTENTS. PAGE Bolanos and its subterranean dwellings. — Manzanares : a generous reception. — Argamasilla. — Cervantes' prison. — The castle of Pennaroya and my day-dream. — The Long Valley. — The Batanes 183

Chapter XII

old and new castile (continued). don Quixote's country. Julien, the rural guard. — A primitive supper table. — The Cascade of Lunamontes and Rudiera — The Lake del Rey. — Mine host Paco. — A jovial evening. — Angel's song. — My guide and his donkey. — The Lakes of Rudiera. — The Cave of Montesinos. — A dangerous expedition. — St. Partridge's Day. — My last look at old Pennaroya. — I am hospitably entertained at Argamasilla. — Manzanares welcomes me back. — Consolation. — Valdepeflas. — The market-place. — The Sierra Morena. — Farewell to Castile ...... 202

Chapter XIII. Andalucia

The Sierra Morena. — La Carolina. — Bailen. — A night in prison. — A war of words. — Reminiscences of 1812. — Andujar. — Old customs. — Fair. — A primitive luncheon party. — Spanish love-making. — Marmolego. — Montoro. —An imposing site. — The reverse of Bumbledom. — Carpio. — A ducal palace. — The reliquary . . . 231

Chapter XIV

andalucia (continued). The battle-field of Alcolea.— Cordoba.— The English Consul. —Palaces and penury.— The Mosque Cathedral. Carlota: a kindly Englishman. — Tropical vegetation. Ecija.— I am taken for a spy.— A revolution on the CONTENTS. XV PAGE tapis. — An unbelieving secretario and a generous alcalde. — Carmona and its lazy inhabitants. — Alcala de Guadaira. — Moorish industry. — The Guadaira. — Aqueduct from Alcala to Sevilla 264

Chapter XV

sevilla. My reception. — The eternal enemy the Moor. — A Russian naturalist. — A tramp's rhapsody on the glory of Sevilla. — The Alcazar — Spanish beauties. — A gentle consoler. — Farewell to Sevilla ....... 285

Chapter XVI. From Sevilla To Granada

At Arahal. — Raw recruits. — La Pueblo. — A famous wood-carver. — A village schoolmaster. — A gentle maiden, — Osuna and its prison experiences. — Estepa and the little hamlet of Laura. — Loja : the Spanish "Lucerne." — Where I am told "there is something wrong with my education." — A night at a roadside inn. — An unpleasant experience. — Within the walls of Granada 297

CHAPTER XVIL GRANADA.

My hotel. — Spanish manners at table. — Guide-books. — My impressions of the Alhambra. — Albacin. — The Gitanos. — The Cartuja. — Two dreams by daylight. — A pilgrim in the snow. — A glimpse of blue water. — The end of my journey ......... 328 Illustration. — The Tramp's Passport . Frontispiece. A VAGABOND IN SPAIN.

Chapter I. Yascongadas, My Start

— PROPHETS OF WOE. — FROM BIARRITZ TO ST. JEAN DE LUZ. — BEHOBIA. — I AM IN SPAIN. — A NIGHT IN RENTERIA. — SAN SEBASTIAN. — THE VALLEY OF ORIO. — THE INN OF ANDOAIN. — TOLOSA. — SYMPTOMS OF FEVER. — THE TURNPIKE KEEPER. — FAREWELL TO VASCONGADAS. "\I THEN I threw a few things together and said, " / am going to walk through Spain" I had not one thought or care as to how I should live, or what I should have to go without. If a round twenty years of footing it up and down the world have taught me anything, it is — that only he who needs little will ever get enough ! Future ages may be interested to learn that when I set forth, July 6th, 1893, with the intention of [Ch. VASCONGADAS. 2 walking from Biarritz to Malaga, my costume con sisted of a knickerbocker suit of brown linen, a veiled hat, and extra broad welted boots, and that I carried on my back a knapsack of twenty pounds' weight.

It held two complete changes of flannel under clothing — two white flannel shirts with collars, two pairs of long stockings, two pairs of flannel knickerbockers and a coat of the same ; a bandage thirty feet long (in case of a weak knee), two handkerchiefs, two neckties, a towel, a soft brown felt " Sombrero," a cloth cap, shoes, and a rug which had sheltered me through all sorts of weather during ten eventful years. A small linen bag held my spare clothes and formed my pillow at night. This was rolled inside my rug, and secured by a tight piece of webbing with a flying loop at each end, drawing the bundle tighter and tighter as I jogged along. I also carried a satchel, shaped like a game-bag, with a centre partition. One side was dedicated to food, the other held my books, passport, map, " Spanish text-book," writing materials, a small card-board box for geological, entomological, and botanical speci mens, a silver match-box, and a flint and steel tied fast by a kind hand to a book whose pages bristle with needles and pins.

Last, but not least, came shaving materials. By way of defensive weapons, I I] THE START FROM BIARRITZ. 3 carried — a pocket-knife. It once possessed three blades ; but one expired on the battle-field of Magenta, and another went overboard in " Merrie England," so that I was left to defend myself in " navaja " *-loving Spain with a blade barely two inches long, and without a point. My most important possession is my " Recom mendation " — a document informing the world of Spain that I am Somebody (which is indeed true !), that I have been here . . . and there . . . and am going somewhere else, and wishing me " Good luck " to the end. Think of that for a Tramp ! A stout walking-stick of Australian tulip-wood, and a pocket-case con taining a photograph completed my equipment. It will be seen that I carried with me neither beef lozenges nor condensed essences.

I intended to live on the food of Spain. If hard and unpalatable I should but share the common misfortune of seven teen millions of my fellow-mortals. As I set out from Biarritz my appearance was sufficiently striking to attract a crowd of idlers, who straightway proceeded to inquire into the nature of my journey. Little as I understood their foreign lingo, I soon * Knife. VASCONGADAS. [Ch. 4 became aware that they were describing for my en couragement and edification all the known methods of brigandage and murder. The violence of their gesticulations was meant to impress my mind with the fact that every other Spaniard I should meet on the road would be a villain and a cut-throat ! How consoling this was to a poor devil without house or home, or one sweet face to call his own in all this strange land, can better be imagined than described.

Fortunately, I have heard a good many people talk in my time, and I could have told them a few facts about former tramps of mine in other lands which would have made them open their eyes. So, undismayed by these blood-curdling prophecies, I shouldered my bundle and set forth by the southern road for Spain, the land of my dreams. It was something like a drag from Biarritz to St. Jean de Luz — ten miles of wild moorland country, with occasional glimpses of the sea and of the Pyrenees, looking hot and dry through the dusty air. After some days of dissipation at Biarritz I did not feel in the right mood to enjoy my load of twenty pounds and a sun pouring one hundred and twenty degrees of heat on the white, glaring road. St. Jean de Luz was pretty and cool and inviting, but I did not linger there.

Spain was beckoning me on ! The mountains rose before me as I advanced. I I] QUESTIONED AND EXAMINED. 5 love mountains, but these looked uncomfortably high for one so burdened to scale. The high road was quite "high" enough for me just then, for I was growing tired, and there was neither water nor habitation to be seen. After travelling over heath covered ground for many miles I sighted a valley, the valley of the Bidassoa. The road began to descend rapidly, and I found myself going out of France at a headlong gait. Behobie was soon reached, and I was as soon out of it again. I wished to rest there, and pass in review the incidents of my previous wanderings in France, so that I might sum them up, and then go into a new country with a clean sheet. But it was not to be. The one gendarme in Behobie told me there was good accommodation " across the bridge."

I went across the bridge and I was in Spain. Behobie had become Bchobia now, and custom house and sanitary officials seized me as their lawful prey. I was questioned and examined till officialdom was tired of the game, and then, without being invited to do so, I took a chair and sat down. I am " only a Tramp ! " No matter, I am not to be done out of well-deserved rest. The wretched custom-house officer discovered that I had brought into Spain — a pound of chocolate [Ch. VASCONGADAS. too much ! He informed me that it was the " pro perty of the State," and that, if I wanted it, I must buy it over again. But I never bought it at all. It was a present made me by my good friend the Consul of Biarritz. After a vigorous expression of opinion on my part 1 was given back my precious chocolate and pre sented with a sanitary passport.

I found there was no accommodation for me at Behobia, but before leaving the dirty little frontier town I went back to the bridge to look at the famous position occupied by the Anglo-Spanish allies in 1813. Before me rose the green knoll of St. Marcial, where the English protected the passage. Every slope, saddle, and peak of the surrounding country is decked with earthworks, look-out towers, and stone barricades. The water-way is broad and unprotected. The position must have been a terrible one to occupy when the surrounding heights were swarming with French soldiers. The victims of military glory sleep in that lonely spot, encompassed by wild, bare hills, lying where they fell. As I stood musing on the bridge I did not hear a sound. All was silence and sadness. I journeyed on, keeping the Bidassoa on my right, to Irun, where I found a dreamy, dirty, noiseless set I-] A COUNTRY ROAD. 7 of people crowding its half-dozen streets, and every window darkened by dishevelled heads.

Not liking the look of the place I pegged off, along the narrow dusty road which led to San Sebastian. Spain did not impress me at all. I didn't like the country. I felt too close to Ireland ! The Spaniard, like Pat, is inseparable from his pig. The ground floor of every house is the barn where cows, pigs, poultry, and other animals herd together. The odour is simply intolerable. After the filth of I run it was pleasant to strike a real country road. Hills rose on either side, and apple orchards ran up the slopes. The fruit was small, green, and bitter, fit for making cider. Here I encountered two villainously dirty carabineers (military police). They were undersized, ugly little wretches, and their clothes were patched in a hundred places. To these sorry personages I had to unbend and expose my all ; first my passport, which they couldn't read, and then my " swag " ; but here I fear that curiosity, not duty, was the constraining motive.

I felt inclined to resist these brutes, but knowing such a course would be unwise, I bottled up my indigna tion and yielded to their commands. Then I went on my way. There were many pretty, shady places where I might have slept, but as the road was easy, I plodded [Ch. VASCONGADAS. on till dusk, when I struck a small town. A cara bineer standing at the entrance gave me a ticket, which I had to show to a little man at the town hall, who was the image of Mr. Toole. He was extremely affable, and offered to conduct me himself to a place of rest. He did so — more's the pity ! Of all the disgusting odours that ever arose from a square of this earth none could beat those emitted by that horrible house in Renteria. I am not proud, and I travel to learn ; I will also own to an acquaintance with some of the plague-spots of our century.

I have indeed spent days in Port Said, and I have passed a night in Belin. But now, those old experiences have an atmosphere of virtue in com parison with my night at Renteria. Mr. J. L. Toole led me to a large archway in a wall. Then he waved his hand as one might do to a dog, pointed to a dark staircase, and shouted something to those above. A shrill female voice replied. I went up. A large galley-like room presented itself on the first floor. A woman, engaged in nursing a baby and peeling onions at one and the same time, beckoned me in. Oh the horrors of that moment ! I flatter myself that I am a strong man, that I can put up with a good deal, that I can rise or fall to all degrees of the social barometer : I confess that I could not feel at home in that unspeakable room. I-] A MISERABLE LODGING. 9 About a dozen tramps, maimed and halt beings, were sitting round a long table examining the con tents of their bags.

Others were engaged in cooking onions and soaked bread in flat stone saucers over the charcoal fires which glowed red in the " incine rarios." A few brass and bronze plates of enormous size stood on a shelf above the open fireplace. Great wooden beams showed on the roof, and the walls were bare and covered with filth. I sat silent and shuddering, till the woman asked me if I should like to go to bed. She led me to a room across the landing, and I thanked Heaven that I was near the staircase. This room looked cleaner than the kitchen. It held two beds. The woman stuck an inch of taper about the substance of macaroni On to a nail in the wall, and I was instructed to blow it out as soon as I was ready for bed. I did so, and — made a discovery. I know something about parasites, for I have dabbled in agriculture and horticulture.

I am an old hunter, having killed nearly everything except a Chinaman and a white elephant. But these experiences were of little ser vice now. I could not cope with the bugs and fleas of Renteria. I had always believed them to be sworn enemies till I came here, when I found that they lived on the best of terms — and on ME ! All this happened thirty-six hours ago, but my [Ch. 10 VASCONGADAS. blood is still rushing and my flesh creeping on account of the hideous experiences of that night. An old man came to bed soon after me. He re lighted the taper several times to hunt for— parasites. And he always crossed himself piously before extinguishing it. I only slept about an hour. Bells were tintinabu lating all night long. It was long ! All the lights were out in the other rooms, and snoring was general.

Some woke and cursed their lively bed-fellows. Others lighted their tapers and smoked cigarettes. I was glad of this, for the fumes dissipated the dis gusting odours from the pigsty below. I waited nervously for the first ray of light that I might up and away. It came at last — accompanied by ominous sounds. The boss of the establishment and his wife were evidently having a row. In the midst of this conjugal duet I rolled up my knapsack and departed. Never did the outer air smell more sweet. There was a public fountain by the roadside. Here, in defiance of a printed notice to the effect that "Any one using soap or washing in this flood will be fined five pesetas,"* I bathed and lathered and made myself feel wholesome and sweet. I was glad to shake the dust of this vile place off my feet, and had no desire to look back.

Peseta = about one franc. I-] SAN SEBASTIAN. 11 San Sebastian is one of the prettiest little places in the Old World. This was my verdict after looking at it from every coign of vantage. The streets are beautifully ordered. The open spaces are decorated with flowering and foliage plants. The houses are lofty, and everything looks clean. The bay is a perfect gem. A little belt of golden sand, not more than a hundred feet deep, runs round three fourths of a circle of clear, emerald water. A cone shaped island forms a natural breakwater to the outer ocean. The patron saint of the town is treated quite humanely here, compared with all the stabbing he gets in other places. With only one arrow through his midrib, and another planted on his right knee, he stands, Mercury fashion, on tiptoe over the main doorway of the church dedicated to his memory.

I set out about midday, when all the little green bay was alive with women and children floating and splashing in the clear water. The road was ill-made and dusty. Cider houses were frequent, and as a sou buys a large glass I slaked my thirst frequently without sinking much capital. My English shoes felt heavy and hot in this scorching climate, and I determined to try walking in " espargatos " (cloth slippers with soles of plaited flax). At a small store by the roadside I offered to exchange [Ch. 12 VASCONGADAS. a good pair of trousers for two pairs of " espargatos." After a good deal of bargaining I agreed to take one pair of slippers, a plate of haricot beans, and a glass of wine, and to give up my bags. The country suddenly became very wild, and all the people I met seemed equally so. I passed a lot of rough, gipsy-like fellows, whose appearance did not please me.

My first rural village was Hermam, which may be briefly described as all pigs and filth. As I did not wish for a repetition of my ghastly experience at Renteria I did not linger here. Just beyond the village I struck the Orio, and the scenery at once became wonderfully beautiful. The mountains are of limestone, and the waters have chafed and fretted the cliffs into a thousand fantastic shapes. All these nooks and crannies are clothed with a rich mantle of luxuriant vegetation. The river rushes over huge boulders, and the old weirs which have been thrown across the stream lock up the waters into long peaceful reaches. Watch towers and look-outs are perched on almost every peak. I was enchanted with this lovely valley, as I saw it bathed in the ruddy glow of sunset lights, and I hoped that the Orio might be my travelling com panion for many pleasant hours.

It did accompany me all the way to Andoain, where !■] THE INN OF ANDOAIN. 13 I regret to record the youngsters received me with shouts, and pelted me with canisters filled with dust. Appealing to one of the inhabitants for a night's lodging, I was referred to the alcalde, who sent me under the care of a small boy to a " posada" in rather a rough situation (Andoain is only a big village). The landlord and his wife read the ticket and then read me, and I think they liked the ticket best. I offered the man fifty centimes, and told him that I was very tired. But he did not seem in the least affected by my sufferings. He kept me sitting on my bundle outside in the street while he sent the boy back to the alcalde. Suddenly he changed his tune, invited me in, spread a cloth on the table and gave me eggs, fried bacon, bread, and wine.

Then a buxom girl brought in black coffee, red and white brandy, and a green cigar. Under the influences of that coffee royal and that green Indiaman, I shut my eyes awhile, and alone in that Spanish inn I was a happy fellow, talking with and in turn listening to those I love best in other lands. I was shown to a dear little bedroom, everything clean and white, and the pillow-case embroidered by hand. Nevertheless, I arose in the morning with an aching head and a pair of legs that didn't wish to carry me. I thought the unpleasant sensation would [Ch. 14 VASCONGADAS. pass away with an hour's walk ; but it didn't. The country was still very lovely. The hills were getting higher than ever : they were dangerously high— they would fall and I should be killed, crushed under the full weight of a giant mountain.