Tickets, etc.—It is unadvisable to travel in any but first-class carriages on the Spanish railroads; and the fare for these is somewhat high. But a very great saving may be made, if the journey be begun from Paris, by purchasing billets circulaires (circular or round-trip tickets), which—with a limitation of two months, as to time—enable the tourist to go from Paris either to San Sebastian, on the Bay of Biscay, or Barcelona, on the Mediterranean, and from either of those points to take in succession all the cities and towns which it is worth while to visit. A ticket of this kind costs only about ninety dollars, whereas the usual fare from Paris to Madrid alone is nearly or quite forty dollars. The billets circulaires may be obtained at a certain central ticket-office in the Rue St. Honoré, at Paris, to which the inquirer at either of the great Southern railroads—that is, the Paris-Lyons and the Orleans lines—will be directed. The list of places at which one is permitted to stop, on this round-trip system, is very extensive, and a coupon for each part of the route is provided. It must be observed, however, that when once the trip is begun the holder cannot return upon his traces, unless a coupon for that purpose be included, without paying the regular fare. He must continue in the general direction taken at the start—entering Spain at one of its northern corners, and coming out at the opposite northern corner, after having described a sort of elliptical course through the various points to be visited. And this is, in fact, the most convenient course to take. It is also prescribed that at the first frontier station, and at every station from which the holder afterward starts, he shall show the ticket and have it stamped. Occasionally, conductors on the trains displayed a tendency to make us pay something additional; but this was merely an attempt at imposition, and we always refused to comply. Should the holder of one of these tickets have a similar experience, and be unable to make the conductor comprehend, the best thing to do is quietly to persist in not paying, and, if necessary, have the proper explanation made at the end of the day's trip.
Journeys by steamer are not included in this arrangement; but we got our steamer tickets at Malaga remarkably cheap, and in the following manner: Two boats of rival lines were to start in the same direction on the same day, and the interpreter, or valet de place, attached to our fonda, volunteered to take advantage of this circumstance by playing one company off against the other, and thus beating them down from the regular price. So he summoned a dim-eyed and dilapidated man, whilom of the mariners' calling, to act as an intermediary. This personage was to go to the office of the boat on which we wanted to embark, and tell them that we thought of sailing by the other line (which had, in fact, been the case), but that if we could obtain passage at a price that he named, we would take their steamer; in short, that here was a fine chance of capturing two passengers from the opposition. The sum which we handed to our dim-eyed emissary was seventy-five francs; but, while he was absent upon his errand of diplomacy, the interpreter figured out that we ought to have given him eighteen more, and we quite commiserated the poor negotiator for having gone off with an insufficient supply of cash. Imagine our astonishment when he returned and, instead of asking for the additional amount which we had counted out all ready for him, laid before us a shining gold piece of twenty-five francs which he had not expended! Deciding to improve upon his instructions, he had paid only fifty francs for the two passages. We certainly were amazed, but the interpreter was still more so; for he had evidently expected his colleague to say nothing about having saved the twenty-five francs, but to pocket that and eighteen besides for their joint credit (or discredit) account. He controlled his emotions by a heroic effort; but the complicated play of stupefaction at his agent's honesty, of bitter chagrin at the loss involved, and of pretended delight at our remarkable success, was highly interesting to witness. I have always regretted that some old Italian medallist could not have been at hand to mould the exquisite conflict of expression which his face presented at that moment, and render it permanent in a bronze bass-relief. As it was, we gave each man a bonus of five francs, and then had paid for our tickets only about half the established rate.
Personal Safety.—Risk of bodily peril from the attacks of bandits, on the accustomed lines of travel in Spain, need no longer be feared. The formidable pillagers who once gathered toll along all the highways and by-ways have been suppressed by the Civil Guards, or military police, a very trustworthy and thorough organization, which really seems to be the most (and is, perhaps, the sole) efficient thing about the government of the kingdom. Of these Guards there are now twenty thousand foot and five thousand horse distributed throughout the country, keeping it constantly under patrol, in companies, squads and pairs, never appearing singly; and where there are only two of them, they walk twelve paces apart on lonely roads, to avoid simultaneous surprise. They are armed with rifles, swords, and revolvers, and are drawn from the pick of the royal army. Some time since there occurred a case in which two of these men murdered a traveller in a solitary place for the sake of a few thousand francs he was known to have with him; but the crime was witnessed by a shepherd lad in concealment, and they were swiftly brought to trial and executed. This instance is so exceptional as to make it almost an injustice even to mention it; for, as a rule, perfect dependence may be placed on the Guards, who are governed by military law and possess a great esprit de corps. A strong group of them is posted in every city; at every railroad station, no matter how small, there are two members of the force on duty, and two more usually accompany each train. The result of all these precautions is that one may take his seat in a Spanish railroad-carriage absolutely with less fear of robbery or violence than he might reasonably feel in England or America. The only instance of banditti pillaging a railroad-train that is known to have occurred while I was in Spain, was that of the James brothers in Missouri, whose outrages upon travellers, in our peaceful and fortunate Republic, were reported to us by cable, while we were struggling through the imaginary perils of a perfect police system in a country that knows not the subtleties of American institutions. And, while we were thus proceeding upon our way, an atrocious murder was committed in a carriage of the London and Brighton Railway, which was not the first of its kind to set the English public shivering with dread and horror.
Even the diligence now appears to be as safe as the rail-carriage. But it should be clearly understood that, when one goes off the beaten track and attempts horseback journeys, he exposes himself to quite other conditions, which it is absurd to expect the police to control. An acquaintance tells me that he has made excursions of some length in the saddle, in Spain, meeting nothing but courtesy and good-will; but he took care to have his pistol-holsters well filled and in plain sight. To travel on horseback without an armed and trusty native guide (who should be well paid, and treated with tact and cordiality) is certainly not the most prudent thing that can be done; but solitary pedestrianism is mere foolhardiness. A young French journalist of promise, known to be of good habits, had been loitering alone about Pamplona a short time before the date of my trip, and was one morning found murdered outside of the walls. While I was in the South, too, as I afterward learned, an Englishman, who was concluding a brief foot-tour in the North, attempted to make his way in the evening from San Sebastian to Irun, on the frontier: he was captured by bandits, kept imprisoned for a week in a lonely hut, and doubtless narrowly missed coming to his death. His own account of his escape gives a vivid idea of the treatment that may be expected from the rural population by anybody who gets into a similar predicament.
"I resolved," he says, "to strive for liberty. Having worked out a stone, which I found rather loose in the wall near me, and having taken advantage of the darkness of my corner, I gnawed asunder the cord that bound me. I made for the door, which opened into the other apartment, and there being but one guard left over me—the others being off on some expedition—I watched for an opportunity. Presently it was afforded me. As the fellow sat with his back toward me, resting his head upon his hands, I stole forward, holding my stone in readiness, and with one blow laid him on the floor. Then, snatching up a knife from the table, I ran out, and after wandering among the mountains most of the night found myself at daybreak on the high-way, my feet cut with the stones and my strength gone. I fainted. On coming round I attempted in vain to rise, when, two men coming along with a bullock-cart, I asked for help. All they did was to prod me with their goads and march on. The laborers were now returning to their work in the fields, and seeing my attempt to regain my feet, several of them pelted me with clods. I had little strength left, but at last I managed to get on my feet, and having rested a while to regain my strength, I staggered along to the town and waited upon the English vice-consul, who kindly provided me with food and clothes, after which I accompanied him before the governor of the province, to make my statement." The Spanish Government do not acknowledge responsibility for proceedings of this kind on the part of their people; hence it is doubtful whether in such a case the victim, after all his peril and suffering, can even recover the value of what has been stolen from him. But it is perfectly, easy to keep out of the way of such adventures.
In the Hotel de los Siete Suelos, at Granada, it is true that the night-porter used to strap around his meagre waist, when he went on duty, a great swashbuckler's sword, as if some bloody nocturnal incursion were impending. But whatever the danger was that threatened, it never befell: the door of the hotel always remained wide open, and our bellicose porter regularly went to sleep soundly on a bench beside it, with his weapon dangling ingloriously over his legs. No one ever seemed to think of using keys for their hotel rooms except in Madrid; and so far as any likelihood of theft was concerned, this confidence seemed to be well justified. Many articles that might have roused the cupidity of unambitious thieves, and could easily have been taken, were left by my companion and myself lying about our unlocked apartments, but we sustained no loss.
Language.—One cannot travel to the best advantage in Spain without having at least a moderate knowledge of French; or, still better, of Spanish. Railroad employés, customs officers, guards, and inn-keepers there, as a rule, understand only their native tongue. Now and then one will be found who has command of a very few French words; but this is quite the exception, and even when it occurs, is not of much use. At the hotels in all places frequented by foreigners there are interpreters, who conduct transactions between traveller and landlord, and act as guides to places of public interest. For services of this kind they must be paid seven or eight francs a day, certainly not more, and in the smaller towns less will suffice. These interpreters always speak a little French; but their English is a decidedly variable quantity. Of course, people constantly make their way through the kingdom on the resources of English alone; but it is obvious that in so doing they must miss a great many opportunities for curious or instructive observation; and even in viewing the regulation sights the want of an easy medium of communication will often cause interesting details to be omitted. The possibility of employing a courier for the whole journey remains open; but that is a very expensive expedient, and greatly hampers one's freedom. Enough Spanish for the ordinary needs of the way can be learned in a month's study, by any one who has an aptitude for languages. Italian will by no means take the place of it, although some acquaintance with that language may facilitate the study of Spanish; the fact being kept in mind, however, that the guttural character of Spanish is quite alien to the genius of Italian speech, and comes more naturally to one who knows German. If the tourist have time enough at his disposal, it is well to take quarters somewhere in a casa de huespedes, or boarding-house, for two or three weeks, in order to become familiar with the vernacular.
Manners.—There is a superstition that, if you will only keep taking off your hat and presenting complimentary cigars, you will meet with marvels of courteous response, and accomplish nearly everything you want to, in Spain. But the voyager who relies implicitly on this attractive theory will often suffer disappointment. It will do no harm for him to cool his brow by a free indulgence in cap-doffing; and to make presents of the wretched government cigars commonly in use will be found a pleasanter task than smoking them. In fact, a failure to observe these solemn ceremonies places him in the position of a churlish and disfavored person. But, on the other hand, polite attentions of this kind are often enough met by a lethargic dignity and inertia that are far from gratifying. Under such circumstances, let the tourist remember and apply that prerequisite which I began with mentioning—good-humored patience. I found my companions by the rail or at tables d'hóte sometimes considerate and agreeable, at others quite the reverse, and disposed to ignore the existence of foreigners as something beneath notice. I remember once, when Velveteen and I, obliged to change cars, had barely time, before the train was to move again, to spring into a compartment pointed out by the conductor, we found there a well-dressed but gross Spaniard, of the wealthy or noble class, who had had the section marked reservado, and the curtains carefully drawn. He sprang up from his nap with a snort, and glared angrily at the intruders, then burst into a storm of rage and expostulation, most of which he discharged out of window at the conductor: but, finding that he could get no satisfaction in that way, he subsided into sullen disdain, paying no attention to my "Buenas dias" ("Good-day"), and making his dissatisfaction prominent by impatient gestures and mutterings from time to time. Owing to the cost of baggage transport, too, the natives generally carry a large number of bundles, bags, and miniature trunks in the first-class as well as other carriages—thus avoiding any fee—so that it is often difficult to find a place for packages, or to pass in and out; and those who thus usurp the room are apt to look with cynical indifference at the perplexities of the latest comer, whom they leave to shift for himself as well as he can. Nevertheless, it is an almost universal custom that any one who produces a lunch during the ride, offers it to all the chance company in the compartment before partaking of it himself. It is a point of politeness not to accept such an invitation, but it must be extended just the same as if this were not the case. In one respect the Spaniards are extremely polite—that is, in showing strangers the way from point to point. Frequently, the first man of whom you inquire how to get back to your hotel, or elsewhere, will insist upon accompanying you the whole distance, in order to make sure that you do not go wrong; and this although it may lie entirely out of his own direction. Such a favor becomes a very important and desirable one in the tortuous streets of most Spanish towns.
Among themselves the rule is that all ranks and classes should treat each other with respect, meeting on terms of a grave but not familiar equality: hence they expect a similar mode of address from strangers. When all the conditions are fulfilled, their courtesy is of the magnificent order—it is serious, composed, and dignified. Each individual seems to be living on a pedestal; he bows, or makes a flowing gesture, and you get an exact idea what it would be like to have the Apollo Belvedere receive you as a host, or a Jupiter Tonans give you an amicable salutation.
As in America, however, it is usually not easy to get information from those who are especially hired or appointed to give it. The personal service of the railroads, with rare exceptions, is ungracious and careless. One must be sure to ask about all the details he wants to know, for these are seldom volunteered. There is a main office (called Despacho Central) in each city, where you may buy tickets, order an omnibus for the station, make inquiries, etc. At the one in Toledo I presented our circular tickets for stamping, on departure, and asked several questions about the train, which showed the agent plainly what line we were going to take. When we reached Castillejo, I found that, in spite of all this, he had allowed us to take a road on which the tickets he had stamped were not valid, and we were forced to pay the whole fare. Neither will conductors be at the pains to shut the doors on the sides of the cars; passengers must do this for themselves. I had travelled all night in a compartment, and in the morning, wishing to look out, I leaned against the door, and it instantly flew open. As it was on the off-side when I got in, it was at that time already closed; but I now discovered that the handle had not even been turned to secure it. The superficial way in which people do things over there is seen in the curious little fact that, from the time of leaving France until that of our return, we could nowhere get the backs of our boots blacked, though repeatedly insisting on it; the national belief being that trousers conceal that part of the shoe, and labor given to improving its appearance would therefore be thrown away.