THE ARCHBISHOP BLESSES THE ENGINE, AND WE HELP HIM.--DELIGHTFUL
LOJA.--A FUNNY DINNER.--STARLIGHT, TWILIGHT, MORNING.
We “had heard, but not believed,” that the line of railway between
Granada and Malaga, as far as Loja, was to be opened on or about the day
we proposed leaving; and we determined that, if the train really ran, we
would be among its first passengers. But oh! the dreary difficulty of
learning anything from anybody about anything in Spain! We ran hither
and thither, we despatched messenger after messenger, but in vain; “_“No
sé_,” I know nothing--was the invariable answer received in each case,
and the nearer the time approached, the greater seemed the uncertainty.
But had it not been officially announced, and were we not bound to
believe an official announcement in official Spain, however at fault
individual information might be? So we quietly allowed all doubts and
disbeliefs to clear from our minds, and declared our intention of
proceeding to Loja by the first train, trusting to miracles that the
train would run. There is nothing like trusting to miracles in Spain.
You are promised that such and such a thing shall be done; you speculate
anxiously, it may be, but of necessity, curiously, as to the how and the
when; you wait, and wait, and wait, and without any apparent
intervention, the thing grows up like the prophet’s gourd.
So it was in this case. Nobody took any trouble about the train; no one
seemed responsible for the starting of the train; no one but ourselves
wanted to start by the train, and yet, after all, the train went. It was
like the old nursery story--water wouldn’t quench fire, fire wouldn’t
burn stick, stick wouldn’t beat pig, pig wouldn’t get over the stile,
and on a sudden water began to quench fire, fire began to burn stick,
stick began to beat pig, etc.
The train was to start for Loja at twelve o’clock precisely, but, of
course, we were driven to the station a good hour and a half in advance.
What a laughable scene it was! All the wags of Granada had come out to
see the train start, quite believing, I am sure, that it would not start
that day. The Andalusian is light-hearted, ready-witted, and prone to
say smart things. Here was a fine occasion of quibs and puns, and it was
not neglected. The train was treated like a charlatan or tumbler who has
promised to perform a certain trick, and at the eleventh hour would fain
call off. Every one and every thing connected with it came in for a
share of raillery, the priests who were to consecrate it, the guards who
were to drive it, the stokers who were to keep it going, the passengers
who were going by it, and the crowd who came to see it.
The very beasts of burden seemed to be in league against that
unfortunate train. We had driven down to the station in an omnibus drawn
by two handsome mules, that had been docile as possible on former
occasions, but, like all true-born Granadinos, they were thorough-going
conservatives, and would have nothing whatever to say to the train. So,
no sooner had we got in sight of the engine and line of carriages, than
they kicked, pranced, and, finally, ran right into a ditch. They were
stormed at, whipped, pulled, and coaxed out somehow; but neither blows
nor entreaties could induce them to move a step nearer the platform.
This incident naturally offered food for merriment to the wags, who
seemed divided between their admiration of the mules who wouldn’t
approach the train, and of amusement at the unfortunate travellers whom
they had upset. Having, after some delay, procured our tickets, we
crossed over to the platform, where a little crowd was already assembled
to witness the inaugural ceremony. By-and-by, two or three sacristans
appeared and erected a temporary altar, trimming it with gay artificial
flowers and ribbon. Then there was a pause of some minutes, at the end
of which came the Archbishop of Granada, dressed in gorgeous purple
vestments, accompanied by several priests. The Archbishop had a grand
look, irrespective of his robes. He was an old man with beautiful
features and a pure, intellectual expression. The priests would have
looked coarse and commonplace anywhere, but by the side of him they
looked doubly so; indeed a stronger term than either of these might have
been applied to them. They had almost a vicious look. And now the
candles were lighted, the Archbishop put on his mitre, the crowd fell on
their knees and the ceremony began. A litany was chanted first of all, I
think; then a prayer was read; and, last of all, the engine was
sprinkled with holy water, and the crowd received a benediction.
Everybody seemed a little _distrait_ except the good old Archbishop,
which was, perhaps, natural. How could people think of anything serious
at such an exciting time?
As soon as the consecration had finished the train really did start, and
great was the stir and loud the cheering, as we began to move off. It
was a sight to see the wall of eager faces on either side of us as we
glided slowly out of Granada. There were old men and women of ninety,
who held up their trembling hands and called on the Virgin in wonder;
there were _gamins_ and children of all sizes, who stood open-mouthed at
the sight; there were middle-aged peasants from the mountains, who
became children, too, in their great bewilderment. If only a John Leech
had been there to see and to sketch!
The cheers and shouts broke out intermittingly all the way to Loja, like
the signal fires that told of the taking of Troy from Asia to Greece. At
every village or station, or convenient point of sight, had collected
crowds of peasants, ladies in mantillas, priests, _arrieros_, and all
seemed disposed to welcome the new era.
The journey to Loja was beautiful. We had a good view of the Sierra
Nevada for the greater part of the way, and the fields of snow lying
lightly on the lapis lazuli mountains had a dreamy and sweet effect.
We reached Loja in about two hours. All the town had turned out to see
the train come in, and the platform was a gay scene with its tiers of
brightly-dressed ladies, fanning themselves in the sun. Spanish crowds
are never in a hurry to disperse, so we quietly waited half-an-hour in
our cosy carriage, by the end of which time we saw a little room on the
platform for ourselves, our bags, and our books.
A good-tempered, well-dressed man packed the latter on his donkey’s
back, and accompanied us to the town, about three-quarters of a mile
from the station. It was a very pretty walk along the river-side, and
the sky was of brilliant burning blue. Our light water-proof travelling
cloaks were much too warm.
Loja is very interesting and beautiful. We should like to have remained
there a month. The Parador was not a luxurious place; but if
white-washed walls, brick floors nicely sanded, a wash-hand basin, and
clean beds, are not enough to satisfy a weary traveller, what would be?
We rested on our beds delightfully for an hour, and then descended to
see if there was any possibility of getting mules and saddles for a
little excursion. But there was none: so, taking a guide with us, we set
out on foot. We strolled first through the narrow, crooked, Moorish-like
streets to the river-side, where we found a scene quite unique in tone
and colour. From the side of a lofty rock issued ten springs of crystal
water, and around each were gathered peasant women, in red and yellow
petticoats, busily washing their gay rags of clothing in the sunset. The
brilliant hues of the sky, the gay dresses of the women, the dark rocks,
the limpid river, the old Moorish fort that towered above all, made a
picture not easily to be forgotten; but when we had climbed to the fort,
and looked across the Alpuxarras flaming in the last rays of the sun,
and the bright green plain below, and the river narrowing to a thread in
the distance, we thought we had seen no more beautiful view in Spain.
The fort is now turned into a prison, and to reach the rampart we had to
pass through a low, gloomy room, full of soldiers and convicts returning
from their day’s labour on the railway. Wherever there is road-making or
rail-making to be done in Spain, you see lines of prisoners at work
linked in twos and fours, under strong military surveillance; which
seems a healthy and profitable prison system. We sat down on a broken
wall overgrown with prickly cactus, and watched the sun set over
mountain and plain, river and village, whilst our guide chatted with the
soldiers about themselves, their neighbours, and their doings. A Spanish
guide is not in the least conventional. He undertakes to conduct you to
a certain place, and there his responsibility ends; he does not bore you
with historical and geographical facts; he never knows anything about
anything; he picks up a companion on the way, and, whilst smoking his
tiny cigarette, talks over the affairs of the place. Our present
cicerone was no exception to this rule. He had called for a friend as we
came through the town, and the two young men, who were very intelligent
and well-mannered, seemed to enjoy the walk as much as we did. They
spoke no French, of course; but our imperfect Spanish never elicited a
smile from them. The Moro-Andalusian has certainly imbibed dignity of
bearing as well as other good things from the Arab.
After enjoying to the utmost the magical splendours of the sunset and
the sweet mountain air that seemed to blow from all corners of the
earth, we descended to the town and our parador. We were somewhat
footsore, and no wonder; for the pavement of Loja is a sort of hardbake,
of flints and stone.
At six o’clock we descended to dinner, and what a funny dinner it was!
The _comedor_, or _salle à manger_, was as big as a barn, and at the
upper end sat ten commercial travellers, laughing and talking with the
black-eyed, noisy mistress of the house. The cloth had been laid just
anyhow, and the dishes were brought on anyhow too. We helped ourselves
to plates and knives, and then to whatever came in the way. The fare was
certainly bountiful. First, came soup; secondly, the favourite dish of
_lengua de vaca_, or hot ox-tongue; thirdly, an odd mess of cabbage and
broth; fourthly, pork--for the Spaniards, as Ford says, combine Bacon
with Belief,--not good; fifthly, partridges, very good; lastly, raisins,
figs, cakes, and coffee. But it was the behaviour of our landlady that
made the dinner so entertaining. She seemed to think it incumbent upon
her, being hostess, to keep her guests in a roar of laughter, _ab ovo
usque ad mala_. She spoke so fast, and used so many proverbs, and
provincial expressions, that it was very difficult to catch her meaning;
but she went over the ground again for our benefit sometimes, and seemed
delighted to make us laugh too. Proverb followed proverb, repartee came
after repartee, story after story, till the peals of laughter became so
deafening that we were glad to retire to our rooms.
Will it be believed that we had to wait till midnight for the
diligence? Fancy having to wait at Tavistock ten hours for the
Launceston coach! But the truth is, that the railway company and the
diligence company don’t like each other at all, and between them both
unfortunate travellers have a hard time of it. We had to pay the full
diligence fare from Granada to Malaga, though we only took places from
Loja to Malaga, and the railway fare for the two hours journey from
Granada to Loja was so high that I verily believe we paid the whole
railway fare too. I name this imposition as an exceptional fact in our
Spanish experiences. We had both travelled a good deal, in America,
Algeria, Italy, Germany, and we were constantly saying to ourselves,
when discussing the matters of bills, waiters, porterage, and all other
things incidental to travellers, “They manage these things better in
Spain.” I cannot too strongly condemn the unfair assertions of English
travellers about Spain and the Spaniards; and I name the
Grenada-Loja-Malaga Unlimited Travellers’ Discomfort Company, because
the treatment we received at their hands was wholly unprecedented
throughout our travels in the Peninsula.
But the waiting at Loja was by no means disagreeable, even when night
came on, for we lay on our comfortable beds, and drowsed and dreamed
till midnight, when we were suddenly aroused by the diligence dashing up
the street, horn blowing, bells jingling, whips cracking, driver
hallooing. The noise was so sudden, and so infernal, that the very night
seemed too disturbed to settle into silence again. To add to it, in
rushed our hostess hurried and excited to such a pitch that you would
have fancied it must be at least an earthquake that so disturbed her,
crying, “La diligencia! La diligencia!” “Yes,” we said, quietly putting
on our bonnets, “we heard it.”
But she did not heed our answer, and rushed about the room, snatching up
our bags and bundles, knocking down coffee-cups and glasses, and still
crying “La diligencia! La diligencia!” The broken crockery and the spilt
coffee only increased her agitation, and she dashed out of the room as
she had dashed in, leaving us no little amused and amazed at so much
energy displayed upon so trifling an occasion.
We quite enjoyed the journey to Malaga. First came the starlight and
the weird, wild aspect of plain and sierra; then the cold grey dawn and
the re-creation of the world from end to end; then the lovely flush of
sunrise over the many-coloured hills, as if of altar fires raised to the
Power that had created them.
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