DEPARTURE FROM VALENCIA.--A RAILWAY JOURNEY.--DIFFICULTIES TO
WHICH TRAVELLERS ARE EXPOSED.--TARRAGONA.--SKETCHES OF ITS
HISTORY.--ARRIVAL AT BARCELONA.
We departed from Valencia, regretting to quit so soon a city where
there was so much that was attractive. The train moved off, and after
we had proceeded a short distance the night came on. Our appetites
being sharpened by long fast and the sea air, we inquired of the guard
at which station the passengers would descend to dine. Being told
at Castellon, we leant back on the cushions, smiling at each other
with that benevolent expression of countenance which the prospect of
the refreshment of the inner man produces on the outer--a sort of
artificial good-nature, in fact. So fickle, however, is the mental
constitution of man, so evanescent everything appertaining to human
nature, that in about an hour from the happy moment just recorded
we were sitting in extreme and opposite corners of the carriage,
addressing _staccato_ remarks to each other, which, although intended
to be general, and to carry with them all the _suaviter in modo_
required by the conventionalisms of good society, were at the same
time remarkable for the transparency of their tenor. And though in our
conduct to each other we had been perfect models of outward politeness,
the manner and tone of the conversation became somehow painfully civil,
not to say rather nervous and unpleasant, like that of two persons
who, having at length, as they think, found each other out, adopt a
tone of studied high-polite reserve, not unmixed with a complacent
consciousness of their own superiority. And why all this? Wherefore
this sudden estrangement between two fond hearts? The answer is simply
Stomach, and nothing more; for it is trying, very trying, after one
has been assured that dinner waits at a certain station, to find upon
arriving there, mad with hunger, that no adequate preparation has been
made for you, and, on asking for the _buffet_, to be directed to a
greasy board in the open air, behind some wooden palings, presided
over by a dirty old man with two saucers before him full of snails, a
plate of minnows, and a collection of little cakes made with rancid oil
instead of butter, which condiments we have to clutch at through the
railings like monkeys in a cage, the only light being the illumination
afforded by a farthing candle. We say it is very difficult under such
circumstances to avoid the display of a little ill-nature.
The railway from Valencia, going somewhere in the direction of
Barcelona, is a miserable mockery of civilisation. The engine one would
imagine was about five-horse power, by the pace at which it went; and
it had to stop every five or six miles to renew its supply of water.
To all appearance it was simply an old boiler, furnished in a hurry
with a few mechanical intestines. Not the least of its evils was that
it emitted a pestilential black fume. The motion of the train had an
effect upon the passengers something analogous, we should think, to
that of being tossed in a blanket.
At a dreary broken-down village called Amplora, at eleven at night,
in pitch darkness and drizzling rain, the Barcelona railway came to
an end. We were aroused from a feverish sort of sleep by the light of
a strong lantern turned full upon our faces. Having undoubled, and
stretched ourselves out from a sort of patent boot-jack position,
we were hastily packed up tightly, like figs in a drum, with a
snuff-coloured gentleman, and stowed away within the fragrant recesses
of the _coupé_ of what was confidently supposed by the misguided
natives of those regions to be a _diligence_. With our heads touching
the ceiling of the _coupé_, and knees protruding through the front
windows, while our luggage, boxes, parcels, and cloaks were thrown on
the top of us, as if they had been heaped there with a pitch-fork, we
found ourselves, it need scarcely be remarked, in a very uncomfortable
position. It was not long before a collision took place between
us and the Moorish-looking gentleman, our companion, whose chief
characteristics appeared to be a profuse abuse of snuff, unchanged
clothes, an unwashed skin, and an eagle eye. He said he was unwell, and
had been told to avoid fresh air. The Anglo-Saxons said they also were
unwell, but as a renewal of the oxygen in the atmosphere was considered
beneficial to health, they had been advised to avail themselves of
the fresh air as much as possible. We were pressed so tightly into
our seats, that we looked like owls in an ivy bush, except that those
luckier birds rarely have several hundredweights of luggage piled
upon their bodies, so as to leave only their heads visible inside a
Spanish _diligence_. We do not suppose either that the owls, which
are generally considered partial to the fresh night air, would much
like travelling with a gentleman who preferred to be cooped up during
his journeys in an exhausted receiver. We were actually packed like
preserved sprats in a barrel, and the Moor, who had grumbled until he
could grumble no more, was seized with a violent fit of shivering and
sneezing, which on the whole was very creditably played by him, and
might have established for him a second-rate notoriety in low comedy at
a minor theatre. He caught hold of all the rugs and cloaks he could lay
hands upon, and, utterly careless of the proprietorship of the same,
built a wall thereof between himself and the deadly open windows on
our side of the _coupé_, and so subsided into a sort of angry slumber,
broken by constant snorts and groans.
Off we started, the rays of the lantern on the front of the _diligence_
above us streaming ahead on a team of eight white horses, and into the
darkness beyond. There were two coachmen sitting on a bench immediately
in front of us, considerably blocking up the small windows. These two
individuals cracked their whips in a wonderful manner, until they
almost played tunes therewith, giving tongue at the same time to a
long duet of curious howls. Having thus relieved their feelings, they
again cracked their long whips over their heads, making the eight
white horses dash away amidst a peal of the little bells which were
suspended all round them. On we rushed at a furious pace through the
darkness, and through thick clouds of dust, rolling whitely upwards
through the glare of the lamp. We passed a straggling collection of
weird old trees, which nodded like passing ghosts, and disappeared in
the gloom. With the earliest streaks of dawn, wild-looking mountains,
dark and distant, arose in all directions, and great rocks, dilapidated
villages, and mournful plains, dotted here and there by a solitary
figure in uncouth garb, came in turn into the focus of the lamp. Now
we swept round a sharp corner, and saw the eight white horses curving
round after each other, apparently far off in the misty light, and the
two coachmen, muffled up in their great shaggy coats, sitting side
by side like a couple of brown bears erect on their hind quarters.
We rattled and jumbled with a noise like that of near artillery over
a gaunt wooden bridge, piled all over with stark black scaffolding,
while the light of the lamp streamed in blood-red streaks on the dark
flowing waters beneath. A group of unearthly-looking buildings on the
opposite shore then came into view, hazy, indistinct, and undefined;
and after passing under a high stone arch, we found ourselves in a
long dark street. On each side were windows with black blinds, and
the ghostly walls, reared high above us, seemed as if about to fall
in ruins, and bury us in a mass of stones and rubbish. As we rattled
on with a deafening noise, we turned the angle of a large edifice
which looked like a mouldy fortress of other days. From the number of
houses around us we must have been passing through some town or city;
but no sign of life, human or animal, save ourselves, intruded upon
the solitude; and night and loneliness reigned heavily over all. We
at length passed with a succession of violent jerks over a crazy,
neglected-looking drawbridge, and through some huge ramparts, and
left the city behind us, with its deep black river flowing on in the
silence. We hastened at a lively pace over brown open plains, encircled
by jagged iron-like mountains, which, at first looming in the distant
dawn, soon received us into their bosom. In a short space of time the
jangle of bells diminished, while the whips exploded into a farewell
fantasia. The drivers or coachmen climbed down from their perch, and
in a moment more we descended, heated, dusty, wearied, and fretful at
the miserable barn-like railway station of Amposta, where we found a
_table d'hôte_ which groaned beneath the weight of a dish of olives, a
plate of dissected cock, some salad, and a bottle of wine, remarkably
_ordinaire_, which a shilling bottle of port from a Whitechapel
gin-palace would have put to the blush. There were also some jovial
viands in the shape of filthy little globules called grapes, and a few
sour flabby turnip-like vegetables entitled apples. Truly travellers
often see strange things in this country, to be remembered, of course,
among the _cosas de España_.
Here we got into a hot railway box, stuffed with cushions, apparently
filled with oil, from the odour they emitted, and then jogged along at
the rate of about six miles an hour. We were thankful to be well clear
of that depressing place, Amposta, and sat quietly in the carriage,
dreamily inhaling the morning air as we glided along. The stars were
gradually disappearing from the vault of night, or paling in the
advancing glory of the coming sun. A few golden bands flamed across the
eastern heaven, heralding the sun's first kiss on the morning of a new
day.
In a short time we were coasting along the Mediterranean waters. Now
we crossed a fragile looking wooden bridge, and swept high over the
waves which gently broke beneath. Then a lovely view of blue curving
shores with rocks and light-houses, and of the smooth sea flecked by
the white sails of numerous feluccas, broke upon the sight. Our road,
however, turned suddenly away from the coast, and we proceeded inland
through hot sandy plains, and occasional orchards of orange, citron,
and pomegranate. Groups of white flat-roofed houses gleaming in the
sun, with the palm trees waving over them, were seen pitched amongst
green fields of long bamboo, Indian corn, rice, and tobacco. Sometimes
we were near enough to rugged-looking mountains, to descry the dwarf
oak and arbutus with which they were clothed in all directions.
Tarragona was the next town we reached. Close to it we saw great aloes,
many of which were sprouting from the sand and rock-strewn beach, and
from the prostrate masonry of the Cæsars. There are two towns, the
higher and the lower, which are separated by a line of walls. The
higher city sits majestic on a lofty rock of limestone, and from a
height of eight hundred feet looks down upon the azure sea. The houses
are mainly composed of the ruins of Roman palaces,--even the simple
home of the artizan is adorned with marble friezes, or upheld by
portions of Corinthian columns;--and on the white marble flags in the
courts of the Imperial Baths, the swine were basking in the sun.
The climate of Tarragona is now, as it ever was, mild and genial,
and the summer heat is tempered by the cool breeze of the sea. So
salubrious was its air held to be, that the Roman Prætors always
established here their winter quarters, and Tarragona became
the capital of Roman Spain. It was originally colonised by the
Carthaginians, and the flower of its youth were enlisted to swell
the armies of the great enemy of Rome. Publius and Cneius Scipio,
however, occupied the city, and compelled it to submit to the Roman
sway. Tarragona, in the war between Cæsar and Pompey, declared for
the latter, but upon his defeat at Pharsalia, humbly submitted to the
conqueror, and Julius resided within its walls, calling the city "Julia
Victrix." Augustus Cæsar passed one winter here, B.C. 26, and the ruins
of the palace where he dwelt may still be seen supporting some ignoble
bricks of modern Spain.
Tarragona stands amidst the fallen splendour of ancient Rome, while the
stern mountains rising darkly around, though comparatively changeless
themselves, look down upon the scene below, which, amid the wreck of an
empire, speaks so eloquently of the uncertainty of human greatness.
We had just congratulated ourselves in having got rid of the
Moorish-looking gentleman who had been constantly afraid of catching
cold from an open window behind his wall of packages in the diligence,
when we were favoured with the society of another native gentleman who
had already caught cold, and, like all his countrymen, was terribly
afraid of fresh air. As the sun increased in power our friend seemed
to decrease in caloric, and proceeded at length to encase his legs
in a sack, at the bottom of which was a hot bottle. When one of us
approached the windows he requested that they might be kept well
closed, in order "to preserve our atmosphere;" but unfortunately
we could hit upon no expedient by which we might "preserve _our_
atmosphere" without destroying his at the same time, and so the eternal
_quæstio vexata_ of fresh air had to be argued once more.
The new acquisition was at first very taciturn. As the day, however,
became perfectly broiling, and the hot bottle began to do its work,
he seemed to show signs of thawing a little, and some of the ideas
that had been ice-locked within his mind during the night began to
dribble out before the warmth of day. He, however, knew as little of
English as we of Spanish. For example, in explaining that we thought
night-travelling a great bore, we were astonished to hear him say
that--"Zee voyage in zee noctes was 'a great male pig.'" He had, of
course, on some occasion looked out in the dictionary for "bore," and
turning to "boar" by mistake, had found the explanation, "Boar--male
pig," a piece of information which he had fondly cherished in his mind
ever since, to display at the first opportunity, as a proof of his
linguistical acquirements.
After a weary time, as we rattled along the iron way--the
_ferrocarril_, as they call the railroad in Spain--the white town of
Barcelona began to come into view, with its handsome outlying villas
and its busy manufactories, all glowing in the bright sun, in the
midst of fruitful olives and gigantic aloes. When we had reached the
Station, the ever-wakeful _aduanero_ was there to welcome us in his own
peculiar way. A smile, a joke, the offer of a cigarette, and the title
of _Señor_ to the dirty functionary, produced the usual satisfactory
effects, and we were dismissed with a polite salute before even the
Inspector arrived. Without the loss of a moment's time, we were seated
on the knifeboard of an omnibus, which immediately began to wend its
way through the pretty boulevards of the city, and amidst the gay
houses flaunting with bright blinds and awnings, which look down on a
beautiful double line of plane trees forming a grateful avenue in the
midst.
The Fonda de las Cuatro Naciones is a charming hotel in every respect,
perhaps the best in Spain. Several of our countrymen had taken up their
quarters here before us, and, according to custom, had made themselves
remarkable by what we may call, if not the usual, at least the
travelling peculiarities of the Briton _en voyage_. In the streets of
Barcelona we again came across the Britisher prowling about as usual,
looking very shy and miserable, the expression of his countenance
seeming to say that he would be very grateful to any one who would tell
him what to do with himself. Why is it that so many Englishmen creep
about foreign towns as if they were ashamed of themselves--as if they
were anxious to avoid the human eye, or had committed some awful crime?
[Illustration: [++] Decorative Image]