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This institution reserves the right to refuse to accept a copy order if, in its judgement, fulfillment of the order would involve violation of the copyright law. AUTHOR: JACCACI, AUGUSTO FLORIANO TITLE: ON THE TRAIL OF DON QUIXOTE PLACE: NEW YORK DA TE : 1896 COLUMIHA UNIVERSITY IJORARIRS VRUSiiKyAiKJi; Di:i'AKrMi:N i' BIBLIOGKArillCMICROrOKM lAKCi-J' Restrictions on Use: FILM SIZE: 2fi Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Recuid rUL/BIG NYCG92-B4403S FIM 10 NYCG92"B^]446 - Record J of 1 - 3AVE record UMI l INITI .\LS_f3i,L^vrL. HLMED BY: RESEARCH PUBLICATIONS, JNC VVOODI3R1DGE, CT r 1 JIB iiiiip V Association for Information ana Image Winn: 1 1 00 Wayne Avenue, Suite 1 1 00 Silver Spring, Maryland 20910 301/587-8202 ■ m f- Centimeter Inches 1.0 I.I 1.25 1^ Ho liUb 1 2.8 3.2 36 40 1.4 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 .6 15 mm MPNUFRCTURED TO PIIM STRNDfiRDS BY APPLIED IMAGE. INC. ISil £ -IM 3. so in tlje Otttp of ItrttJ ^ark THE LIBRARIES J r? I •>i^'f I lAJ I On the Trail of Don Quixote .1^ ON THE TRAIL OF Don Quixote Being a Record of Rambles in the Ancient Province of La Mancha BY AUGUST F. JACCACI ILLUSTRATED BY DANTFr. VTFRGF NEW YORK CHARLES SCKIBNER'S SONS MDCCCXCVI J,. O en il Copyright, 1896, by Charles Scribner's Sons I \ \ To William C. Brownell M i ) PREFACE ^T^HIS hook is the natural outgrowth of a friend- ship between artist and author — the one a Spaniard, the other familiar from youth with Spain, and both lovers of the booh wherein are recounted the adventures of the good Knight and of his faith- ful Squire. The writer had always felt that the illustrations of Cervantes's immortal romance should be the crowning achievement of t^ierge's career, and it was primarily for the purpose of giving l^ierge the opportunities of gathering the documents from life and nature necessary for such an undertaking that the two friends had for years projected a jour- ney through La Mancha, for it is incredible how few changes have taken place in the home of the hero since the days of his wanderings. The customs, the character, the manner of dress, mi the speech of its inhabitants, have remained practically unchanged, and of its landmarks Cervantes has made such vivid pictures that one finds it easy to identify them. IX I-^rcfc ace Through unexpected circumstances the artist had to go alone, and less than a year after tbe autbor fol- louwi minutely his friend's itinerary. As it is, pictoridlly and in words, this book is • ' un Hire de bonne foy," a simple record of Jiotes and impressions from nature. The text telling of wheat-harvesting and midsummer sunshine; the pictures depict ino^ grape-gathering, wine-making, and tbe lowering gray skies of Autumn. It is safe to let speak for themselves the pictures of that master draughtsman who, in remaini)ig scru- pulously true to facts, has the power to endow tbcni with the dramatic feeling, tbe nervous charm, of bis artistic personality. The writer felt, more profoundly than be could express in icords, bow, in such a community, tbe remnants and voices of the past form an essential part of tbe living present. He zvished above all that be could have made his ramblinp- no^es ring with more of his keen delight and appreciation of active, Open-air life in a rarely varied (iihi plCtliiCSijKC region happily as yet despised ly tbe tourist. A'ofCfudc'r, iS<^6. A. r. J. CONTENTS CHAPTER I ON THE ROAD TO ARGAMASILLA PAGE I\Iadrid~Ciudad Real— ALqnzanares— A Bodega— The Postal Carriage— Argamasilla de Alba, . . . i CHAPTER H ARGAMASILLA Gregorio— The Parador del Carmen— Posada Life— The Popular Idea of Don Quixote-The Men-The Women— Religious Feeling— Landowner and Ten- ant—The Casa de Medrano— Don Rodrigo de Pacheco— Cervantcs's Birthplace— The Priest— The Guadiana, Is CHAPTER HI THE CAVE OF MONTESINOS Ezechiel's Cart — The Guardias Civiles — The Fulling- MiUs — Ruidera — Lunch — Mule and Muleteer — Osa de Monteil— A Goatherd— The Cave — The Lagoons of Ruidera, •••..... 6l XI Contents CHAPTER IV MONTEIL El Cortijo de San Pedro—The Hermitage of Saelices — A Homicide— The Lagoons— The Castle of Rocha- frida— The Taciturn Shepherds— \'iIlahermosa — The Castle of Monteil— Pedro the Cruel and Henry Of Trasiauiara-Tlie Old Romanoes-The Re- turn Journey— Hunting— Another Legacy of the -floors, CHAPTER V EL TOBOSO The Plain of La Mancha— The \'enta de Quesada— The Royal Highway-Herencia-»The Fe:i^t of St. James— The Church- Guitarists— Alcazar de San Juan-The Wind Mills— Campo de Crijitano — Siesta— Toboso— A Model Inn— The Fanatic Pro- prietor—A Quinteria, . • • • CHAPTER VI THE MOREXA Ezechiels Adieux— Valdepenas— Almuradlel- Old Jose — The Sierra— Viso del Marques— Casa Teresa— The Fiesta— The Bull Fight— An Open-air Theatre —Excursion to a Mountain Garden— Los Moli PAGE III nos, . 173 xu [1 U' ! ( r I i A f^ j: Contents CHAPTER VH VENTA DE CARDENAS PAGE The Royal Highway— Typical Mountain Scenery— \'enta de Cardenas— Apprentice Toreros— A Family of Bohemian Fakirs — Despehaperros— Andalusia, .215 XIU .V- ■yi!/!'.>^^ / ^ > I — -. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Pa^^e The (^uesf-room at the Casa Teresa, El Viso. The holy images on the zualh, the little statuette of Our Lady on the fine old chest of dra^vers arc such as one finds in all nice houses of La Man- ^^^'^' Frontispiece Limch-tiinc in a bodega. Manzanares. The peasant laborers ivho fnd employ ineiit during the wine- making season come from all parts of La Mancha. To save the little money they ?nake they sleep i,i the doorTvays of the houses, afid li-ve ahfzost exehisiz^cly on '^ garbanzos'' and coarse black bread, *■-••• ILead of a blind mendicant, A Tohosan woman cart-pedler on market-day. The court-yard of a chalk mill at Afanza^iares, . A postal carriage on the run fro jn the station of Arga- 7nasilla to the pueblo, q A peasant of Puerto Lapicc peddling fruit in a street of Alcazar de San Juan^ . . . , .10 A ''galena;' a sort of far?n wagon, in general use in the Cas titles, ... 7-3 Gregorio, the ' ' atno " of the Parador del Carmen, . /^ A luoman of Afonteil, . . . . ^ .17 2 3 5 7 XV List of Illustrations Page Muleteers iti the posada^ Argatnasilla. Their scant and typical costume^ short trousers, he?np sandals y tied ivith ropes round their legs ^ kerchiefs round their heads, and '^faj'as'' {belts), is the same all the year round, except that in ivinter a coat, or ^^ capote,"" is added, . . . • • • ^9 The Utile plaza behind the church at ArgamasiUa. In the street opening on the row of houses shozvn in the drawing is situated the Casa de Medrano, . 20 Scene in the posada stables^ ArgamasiUa, . . 21 Weighing grapes in the court-yard of the posada^ ArgamasiUa, ....'-' 22 Tobosan pedler of puchcros [glazed wares), . . 2j Gregorio's wife buying from a strect-pedler {one from the plain of Montcil^ j^^^S^^K^ A^'^^ ^^^^ P^^^y cap), .....-•• ^J One of the rare good times of the tvomen. The " atna " "visiting a friend. The scene is the hall or pas- sageway behind the street-door, which is used among the Tjillage people as liznng-room. Par lor ^ etc., ......... 2/ The kitchen of the Parador del Carmen, . .28 The posada of ArgamasiUa at grape-harvest time, when the grapes are carried from the ''galenas'' into the big stone vats where the wine is to be viade, . ....... jc* A street scene in Osa de Monteil, the womati knitting in a chair before her door step, perfectly undisturbed by the pigs there sqtiatting about, , . • JJ XVI List of Illustrations xvn Page The entrance of the cellar ivhicJi zvas Ce r7J ante s'' s prison in the court-yard of the Casa Medra?to, . . J4 The cellar Prison, shoiuing the old door {It is nouf used as a sort of store-room for jars of wine, tic.),. . . . . . . . . Jjj Don Rodrigo de Pachcco. A sketch taken from the head oj the painting at ArgamasiUa , .... 37 '' /lis favorite chair in the barber s shop.'' A portrait of the priest spoken of in the story ; the saine shav- ing-basin, primitive old lanip, of like ?nodcl and fashioned by hand as in Cervantes' s ti?ne. The fnie ?natting o?i the Jloor shoivs this barber'' s shop to be the " Salon Cafe,'''' zuhcrc all the ?iotablcs of the pueblo gather, . . . . . - SP *' Feminine curiosity.'' The posada of ArgamasiUa. The screen of luood-ivorh ilirough Tvhicli the ivom- an looks is essentially Moorish, . . . .40 The priesfs niece looking down from her balcony (ArgamasiUa), ....... 4T ^'Feminine curiosity.''' A woman, rigged for work, her heavy outside skirt gathered up round her hips, interrupts her scrubbing to look at the passer- by — a rare enough occurrence in the usually quiet Streets of Arga?nasilla J -/J The plaza of Arga?/iasitta o?i jnarket-day. Aji autu7n7i scejie tuhen the air is sJiarp in spite of the su?i. The first peasant merchant in the foreground wears a '' capa,^' the second is bundled up in a ^^ capote.''' The church shows in the background, 4S List of lllustraiioiis A scene betiuccn a pcdlcr and a house-keeper^ showifis^ the ifittrior of cx Jiouse of Toboso — one of the oldest and most picturesque houses in JLa Jlla/ieha , A 'wonia}i tooki)ig at peasant pedter^s stock of pump- kins — Alcazar de San fuan, .... Dance at the posada^ Arga mas ilia. A^o refres/i- nients hni 7vater are served at siieJi dances. The orchestra is composed of guitars and a violin, hut the guests join from time to time in a song, . A scene in the posada, Argajnasilla, A street scene at Almuradiel, sho7uin^ a lot of freshly gathered peppers hung up to dry ^ Ploughing in the highlands, between Monteil and Villa- hermosa, ........ EzechicVs eart at the gate of the posada^ Argama- sitia, ........ A J\7(idera street see fie, shoiving the jtngaifily a?id heaz'y costtitne of the ivoman, skirts pulled up on the hips, revealing the trousers luorn tinder- neath. The tivo ruffians in tJie foregromid are types of shiftless individuals la ho loaf as a regular mode of life. The young womafi in light clothes, with a broom in her hand, is the 7iewly married "ama'' of the house where artist and author found shelter, ....... EzcchieVs cart, tvhich is built on the same priticiple as the Sicilian and Maltese carts, and the " araba^'* the only vehicle knozvti in Northern Africa j The road to the Fulling Mills, . . . . ■ Page t6 49 50 53 54 57 59 62 64 I ' XVIU List of Illustrations // characteristic bit of scenery on the way to Ruidera, . " Arrieros'' 01 the road skirting the lagoons of Rui- Aft i?icide?it of the artist's journey tuhere, before the Cortijo dc San Pedro, the swolle?i lagoons had over- flowed the road, ...... A street ifi ^Mo/iteil. The furry cap of the figure in the foreground was the Manchegan headgear in Cer- va7ites\<; time, ....... A woman of Ruidera, ...... Another street scene of Ruidera, . . . . The entrance to the Cave of Montesinos, There is another, which is some two hundred feet to the right, but being well-like, it is impracticable, Episode of the artist s fourney : Near the cave^ , Episode of the artist's journey : The cart-driver 7irgi?ig him to depart fro}7t a posada ivheti he and the faynily had hardly sat doivn to their meal, A bit of Monteil, ....... TyPe of goatherd, sketched near Villaherjjiosa, The lagoon of La Colgada, near the cave of Montesi- nos, the deepest and largest of all the lagootis of Ruidera, ........ The edge of a lagoon, 77ie ruined interior of the hermitage of Saelices, . The entrance to the hermitage of Saelices^ . Skirting the lagoon near the Cortijo de San Pedro ^ An upper valley of the Guadiana^ . . . . Shepherds^ huts, sketched on the road to Villahermosa, . Page 66 6S 'O 71 72 75 76 n 7S 79 So Si Sj S6 Sg go g2 XIX List of Illustrations List of Illustrations Shepherds in the canon-like bed of the ivinter torrent, between the valley of the Guadiana and ll/iaher- mosa, ........ pj The Castle of Pedro the Cruel, at Monte il, as first seen on coming from Villahermosa {the village of Mon- te il being hidden behind the hill), . . . g6 The Castle oj Pedro ike Cruel, from a street In Mon- teil, ......... gy A typical afternoon scene in a street of Monteil. The woman beckoning with her hand in the foreground is a pcdkr of lottery tickets y . . . , gg Approaching Villahermosa, ..... loi The Castle of Pedro the Cruel, from a street in Monteil, 102 An episode of the artistes journey : Arguing with the driver of the cart^ %vho for some reason does not luish to start, iv/ii/t' t/ic artisf s J'ritfKts srr that t/ie proper proifis ions are packed in the baskets for the . 104 The old duenna in the foregrou)id signs herself devoutly in passing before the holy image of the Madonna, dressed up like a doll, and set up on a little altar-like affair against the wall of a house. A pair of crutches on one side of Ik Statue, mm wax fed on tin otJin\ sJunu the gratitude of people cured by the miraculous inter' cession of this particular image. Three of the horribly maimed mendicants, that one sees only in Spain, are lying on the sidewalk under the statue^ ........ 10^ Page jotirfiey^ Street scene at Villahermosa The entrance to Villahermosa. The barber's shop in front, lOY Sleeping quarters of the artist in a private house of Villahermosa, . ... . . . . loS The danee at Herencia. The semi-civilised dress of the men is typical of Herencia, one of the jnost pros- perous towns of the province of Ctudaa Real, . 112 The Royal Highway between Madrid and Seville, IIS, 1 1? A solitary mendicant on the Royal Highway, . . 118 Pedler selling his stock of cotton cloths at auction in a street of Herencia, ^21 The plaza at Herencia. The fonda spoken of in the text is on the right-hand side of the picture. A boy, followijig the old custotn, which ivas a uni- versal one until of latCj runs to kiss the hand of a prii'st he jfiittSf ...... J'^-^ A eorncr of the court-yard in the fonda of Alcazar de San fuan, -cohere the grapes ready for ivine- making are heaped up, ..... 124 The facade of the fonda at Alcdsar de San Juan, . 1 23 A hit of Alcazar de San fuan, . . ■ - I2(y On the outskirts of Alcazar de San Juan, the beginning of the road to Crijitano, a water-pedler in the foYe(rromui, behind him a characteristic wayside sanctuary, Ajutamiento [City Hall), Alcazar de San Juan, In the Ajutamiento Tower, Alcazar de San Juan, The wind-mills of Crijitatw, as seen from the distance, . One of the anciefit zuind-tnills of Crijitano, xxi ^35 \ List of Illustrations ratrr A typical bit of scenery at the tnills of Criji/auo, An episode of the artist's Joitrney : On approaching Crijitano, .....•• Sketched in one of the upper streets of Crijitano, a typi- cal arriero in iJieJoreground, .... Episode oj the artist's journey : The entrance in Cam- i>o de Crijitano, behind his escort of Guardias Civ lies, ....'•' 14^ The distribution of bread to mendicants^ a daily occur - rence of Campo de Crijitano [In accordance li/ith a legacy left over a hundred years ago to a church by which a certain amount of money has to be ex- pended in giving bread to the sick, cripples, or 7'ery aged poor of the tocatity), ..... 14^ Fagade of a house at Campo de Crijitano, dating back to the Moorish occupation. All its details and the loiver porch, supported by columns, are distinctively Jifoorish, ......-• ^-/J* A corner of the pla::a, Campo de Crijitano, the church's principal entrance on the left, .... 144 View of Toboso from the plain, with the big, squat ehurch'iower sfwken of in " Don (luixote;' . , 146 The entrance of the posada at Toboso, . . • /-// A street of Toboso, a pedler selling honey in the fore- ground, ....•••• ^j^ A street of Toboso, O'^ The plaza at Toboso, the church on the left, . . 132 An episode of the artisfs journey : Guardias Ciznles, in search of a robber, making an investigation, . /JJ xxii List of Illustrations A bit in Toboso, 1^7 The kitchen of the posada in Toboso, .... i^q The well in tJie court -yard of the ^''posada'''' at To- boso, ......... 160 Maria, one of the daughters of the " amo'' of the po- sada, Toboso, ....... lOj Posada, Toboso : Detail of staircase, ivith c7iar?ni/i^- ly turned baluster, ...... i6j Posada, Toboso: Entrance to the luine-cellar , . . i66 f liana, the other dajtghter of the ^^ amo" of the po- sada, Toboso, ....... 1 67 Pickifig saffron floiuers. As in Arab countries the women do the work, the man being a sort of over- seer. i6q The laborers'' lunch at harvest-time in a ^^ quint e- ria. 171 The Sierra Morena,from the station of Almuradicl, Doha Teresa washini^^, ..... The Sierra Morena,from the plateau between Almura- dicl and Viso, . . . . . . . /// Episode of the artisfs journey : Arrival of the travel- ler's cavalcade in view of Almuradicl, . . //^ A bit of Kl Viso, ....... iSj AfigJtel de Ceruantes y Saavedra. The traditional face zuhich is held in Spain to be that of Cervantes, although there is no evidetice to prove it, and, on the contrary, strong evidence to disprove it {It is doubtful if any contemporary portrait of Cervantes exists), iSs xxm List of Illustrations List of Illustrations A corner of the patio, Casa Teresa, El Visa, . . iS6 In a Manchegan boys' school, ^^^ Episode of the artist's journey : Scene in the Venta dc Cardenas^ ....... JQ^ Episode of the artisfs journey : The departiire of the artisfs party from El Viso for an excursion to the fnountain-garden spoken of in the text, . . IQ- The Sierra Morena, from the plateau behind El Viso, . • ^PJ* A characteristic bit of the central fftassif of the Sierra Morena, 7iear the Venta de Cardenas, . . /p^ Lnnch in the little garden of the mountain, . . ig? E{)mdn of tk artists journey : Depicting (he inci- dents which defcl his party on the way to and from Los Molinos, . . . 19^, ^01, 20J, 20^, 206 Type of arriero " on the road, .... 208 The peak of the Fanero, one of the bleak mountains en- circling Los Molinos, ..... 2og Episode of the artist' s journey : Departure from Santa Cruz de la Mudela. The fnule in the foreground has the characteristic pack-saddle used in the mountain country, ...... 2^0 Episode of the artist' s journey : A scene at the Venta de Cardenas. The Maritornes presiding over the cooking. In the background a set of dangerous- looking '' arricros,'' .... 220,221 An episode of the artisfs journey : Alarmed at the roughness of manners and bad looks of a band of " arrieros " which they found at the Venta de Car- x.xiv f Page denas, the members of the party decided to spend the nig Jit in the open near the lonely biiilding of ihe station, where, under the watch of their two Guardias Civiles, they felt more secure than in the " venta, ''^ 22^ The famished toreros, watching the stranger eating, . 224 The toreros, 22s Episode of the artisfs journey : Night scene at the Venta dc Cardenas. The conference between the guardias and the little party ^ whefi a hasty de- parture luas decided upoti, .... 226 The fakirs comi?ig into the Venta de Cardenas, . 22S The fakirs' siesta in the Venta de Cardenas, In the foregroufid a Jiand laax'ing- the ]\fanche^afi fty flcip, . . ...... 22Q NigJit scene i>i a poPidar resort of Seville, . . . 2ji Los Organos in DesPehaperros. The railway on the other side of the gorge midway up the motintain, 2JJ A detail of Los Organos, ...... 2J4 The ^^ arriero^^ singing a ^^ jnalagueha," . . . 2jy XXV I I On the Road to Argamasilla '>, :■'■:'•• ''ins- a!) ^^;^ •w ,»>• 1 ' ,.rii-*r <: „iM i"^'fN %*^. P ■\i<'" c^ 'J^t ->^' ^^ ■r^^ ii-.. >/*' ;■<„.■•* 7 ^j;.;mm,';>^ ^ S :i>'^ *s-^ « .\\\V r^ ^rni'Wi IvHU ^- ^ ^l On the Road to Argamasilla 1 T was night in July, and I was bowling along toward the same dreary plains of La Mancha, that were the scene of my youthful tramps. Friends had just warned me most earnestly not to venture into that country of rough, half-savage folk unless I secured an escort of police from whose sight there must be no wandering, ** for," they added, ''the navaja [the knife] is handv down there ; " and the manner of their ^^peech was tragic. But then they were Spaniards, and must regard things in the national way — that is, to revile natives of other provinces than their own, and more particularly the inhabitants of unlovely La Mancha, the most backward region of Spain. With occasional sleepy glances into the future (I was stretched on the long seat of an empty carriage), mingled a shiftmg con- sciousness of the adieux of the people of the On the Rnad to Aiuania^iila Madrul hoMclrv -d()Lil)l\' corduil in cxprcta- tion of a promised reward for the safe-keep- iniX of the lui'^ao^e left with them -of ihe drive throtigjli the narrow streets to the sta- tion lookin_i{ all the way at the Madrilenes, out for the freshness of the evening;. They little knew how o^lacl I was to be amon^- them lyiTciin and how deH.irhtful was to me the ani- mated spectaele of their streets. I remember distinetly in a little |)laza, over whose miser- able pavements my rieketx^ earriao:e went bumpinor in unexpected and distressmo: fash- ion, the candle-liL^hted l)ooth, frail affair of wood and paper, where I stopped to buy delicious orani^cs for next to a smile from a swarthy woman dressed m rag^s, her hair a-tano:le but w^Ith the condescendlnor nian- ners of a prhicess. In the station, stiff and :n^loomy, a por- ter, loaded wnth a tiny packa^^e, my one change of hnen, preceded me with diijnified steps and throwing open the door of a fust- class carriag^c with a bans: that re-echoed all over the place seemed thus to apprise (on- lookers of the fact that here was indeed a lordly person, one who, in spite of his dimin- utive lui^gagc, could afford the luxury of the On the Ivoad to Arefamasilla liv^ >..- • - r best. There are always lookers-on a! the departure of a train in Si)ain. Travelling is such an unu- sual and risky p roe ee d i n g that famil\' and f 1' i e n d s feel called upon to t e s 1 1 f \' , by their presence, their concern in the |)eril- ous undertakins:. No doubt prayers are in- dulged in for weeks previously, letters are sent beforehand informing: all of the fateful e\'ent. K,ven after the ofreat dav has come and gone, how can the houseliold or the little circle of friends at the cafe resume the even tenor of its way without hearty expressions of cc;ncern and wishes that all may be well with the adventurous one ? What a contrast was Ciudad Real, the worthy, because so ycry poor, capital of La Mancha (" Imj^erial and the Scat of tlic God of 5miles," as Cervantes termed it), to the bustling New York I had left but twelve days before. In the early morning;, On the Road to Arganiasilla pure and fresh, the crvstalHnc ma.irniticence of the pale green sky brought out in Strong relief the insignificance of the little town and its rambling low houses. The bareness of the whitewashed \valls was made mOYC eHV phatie here and there by some iron-Screened window, or a door bristling with nads and ornate locks and hinges. All was strangely quiet in the long, narrow, unpaved street which led into the heart of the little town and the same oppression of silence so strd.- ini^^ in Arab eities falls upon the travelka-. Indeed La Maneha is Moorish, eountry and people. The Moors liave left their thumb- mark, the traces of their U)ng domination, on the aspect of the towns and the physiog- nomy of the people, not less than on the character and temperament of the inhabi- tants and their social and domestic relations. It was Aral) hospitality of the best kind that awaited mc as I knocked, a stranger at an unseemly hour, at the house of the father of Carlos, the friend I had just left in Paris. Everythino; was done to make Carlos's friend feel at home, and my new ac(|uaintances proved so much more helpful than our na- tional representatives in Madrid had been On the Road to .Vigamasilla that by ten o'eloek 1 was able to eontinue nn- journey, liaving in my possession an or- der from the governor of the provinee that I should be furnished with an escort of mounted pohce wherever 1 might wish dur- in<^ mv travels. The train erawled along in an Afriean landscai)e. The plain, with vegetation the color of its soil, stretched out in supreme deso- lation under the blue sky filled with the cruel majesty of tiie noonday sun. No settlement, no houses, nor any signs of life enlivened this torrid desert till on the |)ath runnin^^ beside the track some brown si)ccks came bobbing up and down toward us — a characteristic x^ 1/ mmm ■ • /• . / ., ' \^•» ability she had never travelled on the cars and never woukk and the poor creature must have l)een marvehing in her dumb way why people should wander so far afield instead of stavin^r where thev were born. The little donkey's retlections were as plainly written on his countenance as if they had been uttered in pure Castilian as he stood a mo- ment, an expressive silhouette, staring in be- wilderment. " Demonios ! what's that infer- nal machine about?" was his conclusion, whereu])on he whirled around and scam- l)ered off, Hinging his four legs in as many directions. There was a chano:e of trains at Manzan- ares, a settlement which in spite of its an- 9 H-.': Ifl '^i :i jC^ft3^i?|3^W-£^" r^/- :\ // .V//7V/ VohUr. On the Road to Areramasilla ;->' tiquity and of its poetical name, looks a hand- ful of houses scattered hap-hazard on the bare soil, like children's blocks in a nursery corner. However, it is alive and has one of the hnest distilleries (bodegas) of Spain, where I caught a glimpse of the peasant workmen eating their lunch in a clean mod- ern-built shed by a row of formidable jars, each of which, I was told, held some twelve hundred gallons of wine. To this day, as in the time of Cervantes, these jars of })orous clav are cxclusivelv manufactured in Toboso forever enshrined in the Imagination of all lovers of romance as the home of Duleinea, the one true love, ardent though ])latonic, of the last and most celebrated of knights er- rant. Hrick-yards 1 saw and the many chalk mills, where gvpsum is ground to pow- der for the manufacture of i)laster of Paris, were ohl-fashioned and slovenly. In o])en paved areas, scattered everywhere in and about Manzanares, threshing was going on in the same primitive way as in the days of the Moors, the Romans, or the Iberians. A band of donkeys, horses, and mules were simplv hitched to a flat board upon which the driver stood urging his team round and II On the Road to .Vro^amasilhi round in ever-narrowino^ circles till the pile of crrain lav Hat. But the half-naked, sun- burned younir drivers, halancino- themselves on the narrow boards as if it were the easiest thin^ to do in the world, looked like livino; bronzes with their devil-inay-eare air and somcthini^ of that same alertness, that poise and m'ace of movement one loves in the lit- tie Fompeian hi^ures. By the lonely station-buildinix of Aroama- silla, the one bit of life was the postal-earria^e, a four-wheeled affair, sprinj^dess, with insecure board benehes under an arch of plaited straw covered with canvas. It was the hottest part of the (lay, and the hottest dav of the year, the driver said, but it did not persuade him to spare his team. At the incessant crack- ino- of his whip the four horses raced for- ward in a stampede, raisinor thiek elouds of stini^lno; dust which blurred completelv road and landscape and produced the sensation of travelHnir in a furnace at white heat. 1 he coach-dog barked, the board-seats rattled, while the vehicle creaked and plunged. Here was old-time travelling with a ven- geance. That part of me which is monopolized by 12 On the Road to Argamasilla the artist — I shall call it my Quixote self — rather revelled in this excess of local color, but my Sancho Panza side, caked with dirt, shaken and bruised by the jolting, was in a deplorable condition. .Vnd yet could Sancho do aught but endure what could not he heh)ed ? His resigned martvrdom lasted for an hour, till a stoj) was made to water the horses. Thereafter, our pace relaxing, occa- sional glimpses could he had on either side of the road of helds of scorched wheat with each separate stem a shining, hrislling spear. Before us the village of .Vrgamasilla, "hirth- ])lace of Don Ouixc^te," the . i:\> rtU > ujfe. -^ - ^ .7g ■ ~ ^J.^-iEr^— " ■y f lands, and Hundreds of tlics droned a cease- less, loud murmur like the strino^s of a symphony, broken in upon by recurrent snores from limp bodies coiled in corners on the bare earth and by the sharp, insistent munching^ of the mules at their foraije in the stables. Followinir Greoforio upstairs I hastilv ar- rano;ed for the cxclusix'c use ot a little whilr- washed room, htted with tlircc bed^ witli bulky mattresses rolled on the boards — for here spring's are unknown, of eourse — at the exorbitant price of ten cents a day — it was policy to propitiate this man Greirorio, the a^;u), the soul of this establishment — and then hurried down again to enchantment ! 20 Argamasilla But my Panza, rising in his might, insisted on something more substantial than sensa- tions which he thought were not to be in- dulged in on an empty stomach. Unfeel- ingly I had to disturb the ajiio, who, seated on a stone bench, his head between his hands and his elbows on his knees, was evidently L \ % I ■ 4 / wondering what manner of man was this stranger, dressed as a countryman, but wdth a queer stamp which he was unable to lo- 21 Aroramasilla catc. Panza felt elated at the answer that it might be possible to have something to eat. " W^hat can I have then, auio ? " I contin- ued. '' Dc todo (Of everything), Seiior," elusive abbreviation for "of all that you brincr, " and I had brou^^lit nothinor. The fates were kind, however, for with the help of three females, a boy, and an old dilapidated character, a sort of buffoon, the cojo^ ncces- sarv functionarv of all posadas, whose duties are to run errands, amuse the household and be the butt of its jokes, a com|)licatcd tor- tilla was slowly manufactiuTd. In a little dark room, the key of whose carefullv locked ^__rz' ^lo^H" dandled at his belt, the anio went to fetch the inerrcdients which composed it — eo:ir^, pota- toes, onioim, <#^ v-VS^^- herbs, and ham, besides I know not what. When it was finally served on a bench and famished Panza seated before it, every one came slouching by. Was it that the strong odor 22 Ariramasilla >^--=> . ^4-^- of crude olive-oil was too attractive to be resisted or that the unusual spectacle of a man eating with fork as wxdl as with knife could not be missed ? Whatever it may have been, they, not ^.^ unlike a pack of small doo;s watching another doii: munch his t)one, sat or stood around observing each disap- pearing morsel till the oppression of these glillerin^^ eyes stead- fast Iv fixed on mv movements made me feel that something was expected and must be done. I had not failed to offer a share of mv tortilla to one and all before touching it, and now the psychological moment had come which must transform the silent watchers in- to friends, or else life would be a failure for the next few days. With my best manner I offered a draught of my wine around. It was refused, a customary denial, that, though croinir arainst the irrain, is nevertheless re- ligiously practised by high and low. A sec- 23 ^,<'3-::^«*^^,,j Wf v-" V^\ fe Arsramasilla ond and more familiar offer, " Widios, vauios Iwmbrcs^' ("Come on, men"), brouuhl eaeh one to the mark. Then as the i)io;-skin bottle passed from hand to hand the i)laee beeamc alive. Cigarettes were lit, remarks ventured, questions asked and answered, and the song of the Hies became but a distant accom- paniment to human voices as the world of Argamasilla began unfolding itself before me. Verv like our world it was, vet character- istic in a hundred little and bio; ways. I'he manner of those half Moors, who like tlie natix'es of southern Ital\' are born for tiness- ino;, and love to reach their ends b\' slow, roundabout approaehes, was hue to wateh. After learnlnir what they alreadv knew, that I was a stranix<^'r (a term whieh applies to cUi) one not a Mancheg-an) they dangled a va- riety of halt tliat should tempt nie to cUsclose what manner of man I was and what 1 had come for. One i machines that if cats could, they would talk in just the wav these ])eo[)le did — slowly, with the same impcrturbal)le glare in their fixed, brilliant eyes. Fiirura- lively speaking, these muleteers and inn folk ventured cautiously one paw here, one there, -4 Ariiamasilla retreated, advanced, till enough facts having been secured, the pretty game ended. Then having learned what I wished to do, every- \.> \ X one fell to o-ivincT me the benefit of his ideas and experiences. The most interesting were those of the chief courtier of the avio ; a worthless, lazy chap, marked out by a greasy old cap sporting the fatidical initials of the bull ring, P. D. T. (^plaza dc toros^^ which 25 Armmasilla proclaimed the wearer a lover and connois- seur of the great game. " Ves, Senor, Don Ouixote was a funn\- chap. It's a orreat book thoug^h and known to the whole world, even to the heathen and to the English and the others. 1 read it and found it droll readini^, but the best of it I did not get. There is much in it for persons of learninsf. Thev all sav who know that the science of the world is there, and that when you understand it \'OU can i;et as rieli as you want. But I am ignorant and was only amused. Don Ouixote was a very ridiculous fellow surclv ! Think of his tak- ing those wenches at the venla for castle maidens ! Jcsii. what an ass he was 1 " " And Sancho, vou say ? Well, lie i^ like you and me, he wants lo cat and sleep aiul crct aloiiu" with evcrvbodv in a nice wav. Ikii then I don't know the book. There is some- thinor in it I can't ir^'t hold of which makes priests and the like read it over and over. Don Federicro, a lawyer, who lives now in Madrid, says there is not another book like it, so full of politics and everything." '' Si, Senor, Ar^amasilla is full of OuixOte. There Is his portrait in the church, and his 26 ~^~^' St^-Nilf^Bl I " Ui,i ,U\ ^^ =•- -T«^ >?/ v^/.,. :^j 1^ 'iviJ:^*^-^ J^=S:3-'---" (9w^ of tJw Rare Good l^iiius of tJio Woiuoi. Argamasilla house was torn down only a short time ago, and here is the gentleman (a general bow of the company to the citified-looking young man who then entered the place) who has installed a fine bodega on its site, as perfect a bodeo:a as you have seen in Madrid. And we'll show you also the prison where Cer- vantes wrote the book," VS»^-'A ''It h. ^^^;v^^2^_f, t^ A moderate distribution of wine brou.iiht a score of idlers and notal)les, who kept up the discussion on Quixote. And in such 25 Argamasilla pleasant manner the rest of the dav was passed. Late in the evening I sat with the anio in the darkness outside the door, under the sombre, la})is-lazuli sky clustered with stars. A trembling: murmur, like the heav- ing of a calm sea, intensified all accidental noises, the barking of dogs, the jingling of the bells of the mules hurryino: to their nio^ht's shelter. A laborer cominir home from the helds ])assed at a gait, which one felt to be rapid, though the sound of his footstei)s was deadened in the dust. He sang with a rich, full, uncultivated voice, a sono; of Andalusia, one of those Malao-uchas which arc rei)lacing the distinctive provin- cial songs all over the penmsula. Kaeh verse was a complete musical r>lii''^^<-\ given as a trill and ending in a loni^-'^ustained guttural minor note, and there were long pauses be- 1 wcf n the verses. Nor with thee, nor without thee, Have my troubles any remedy; Willi ilice, because thou killest nie, Aiitl wiihuuL thee, because I die of it. The voice, alternatelv crying and siiLrhing, kept its male ring, while the pathetic words 29 Arcramasilla ^ f^^- ■ >-^'^: •<^^ I ^z i;"^ R/=.V %■■ -1 ;''.:^'-- ■4' jt .55 ^ 5 K were flunor Into space with the most passion- ate expression. It was like the nio-htinQ-ale's song, as impulsive, as harmonious with the scene and hour, and long after the voice had died out in the distance mv nerves kept vi- brating to the inexpressibly wild melody as if the very silence was still full of the echoes of this riot of feeling. Turnincr in at about ten the son of the aiuo, eighteen years old, is stretching him- self on the floor over which he has spread his mantle. Under his head by way of pillow i^ llic harness of liis mules. '* Why duesnt he slecj) in a bed?" I inquire. "It's no use," savs the amo. '' At niidnigrht he'll have to go lo the fields and work. Vou see this is harvest-time and we must work dav and night." I found out that "we" meant ever\()ne else in the household but mv host. The following days gave me a good op- Itortunitv to ^ee truly tvpical posada life. 1 he a))io, one of the rare, well-to-do persons of Argamasilla, owning vineyards and wheat- helds, had to devote his early mornings and late afternoons to overseeing his laborers, lie would come back usually at nine in the morning, with his son and some of his men, 1 Argamasilla Argamasilla who had l)ccn up and at work at the thresh- ing-ground since as early as three o'ekjck. All had then their first meal in common. The long knives were unsheathed; each man proceeded to cut a thin slice of hrcad, stuck the point of his knife into it and used it as a spoon to dip into the dish of hard peas and cucumbers, swimming in mixed oil and water, which was placed on a stool in the middle of the group. A new spoon had to be cut for each spoonful and much dex- terity was needed, even with the help of one's thumb, to secure enouo-h peas on the Hat piece of bread. The a;;u:> passed the wine- bottle round but once, the men induloino- in it spariuLrly. When a man had linished, lie would \vi{)e his li|)S with the hack of the hand, o-et u}) and i^o to a stand where the water-pitcher was held, lift it and, liold- ing it at arm's length, take a lono- drau^dit then lIorhtin<2: his cigarette, he woukl be off to work aorain. What a frucral diet \ No wonder these peasants arc such hcalthv creat- ures, solid and limber, that tliev walk with an elastic, light step and in repose seem ever ready to move, suddenly, without ef- fort — the whole body ready to spring. Our I .'V i X \ /'. -*V'>~^ nOhons of S})anish indolence are true enough of the ''classes," but the peasants are as hard-working a people as can be found any- where, i)erforming their work on fare which not even the poorest Italians would fnid sufficient. Durinor the warm hours the ajno remained J* Aroramasiila -71 l^'^^ :^f ^ii!-i •i;^*:^ -^t -^'.ih ■ -v«if" E? T v>^3^^' ^tT=. /" .-%^ A f at home. A couple of jxirasites kept him companx-. smiled at his jokes and feasted on his sententious wisdom. While I was stayinor there Orecrorio made himself a pair of shoes and his friends, enjovinir the rare opportunity, sat and watched admirinirlv the 34 f Arofaniasilla progress of the work, occasionally indulging in a bit of dialogue, but the sturdiness, the sombre side of the national character would reveal itself in protracted periods of silenee and repose when the cigarettes alone were alive. The fact that Gres^orio was doinof somet hi nir became known in the neiofhbor- hood, and other idlers would come and join the circle from time to time and marvel how the woithv man did his work so well. Oc- casionally one of the group would get up, ■■^::.^-:.'-r^ Argamasllla wiping- his foreheaci, to have a drink of water from the bottle, with some kindlv^ meant word to the foreigner — -'' God, it's hot, Seiiorl" Flics were thick, do^^s asleep, a pfirl was scwinir in a corner while her fn\'or- ite cat sat on a stool \vatching her. .\ strap- ping" laborer woidd walk in with a nod and al)breviated "How do" toward the i^rou]) and disappear in the stable. Were it not for these happenings the posada wuidd luue been as quiet as the town. Upon this dull backjiroiiiid of ihc posada life there dehled morning cUid night all sorts of tvpes of muleteers — fantastic, wild-look- ing fellows, who strode in and out silentlv^ with hardlv a jxkmce at anyone. After takinor care of their mules thev would sit in a corner and eat the hard bread and bit of cheese they had brought with them, or lie down to sleep anywhere on the hare soil, with no covering over them and but a con- venient stone for a pillow. The women-folk, mother and two daugh- ters, were left strictly alone. The ama had charcfe of the cookincr, the inorredients for which were cfiven to her l)v her husband after a good deal of noisv bickering, he claim- 36 Argamasilla / ■-, •. ^>;S^ .r^/ w\ ■f6 nOA^ RODRJi;0 J)F. J\l CI/ECO. 7-V<'w iJu- pai}tt'm^:^- in tJic Cluurh of A rgnmasi/Za. m ttkit she did not make the best of what he grave, she that he never o;ave her enoucrh. The daughters, modest girls of pleasing looks, were working all the time, helping in the kitchen, keeping the three guest-rooms in order (when said rooms were occupied, which was not often), fetching water from the well, sprinkling the premises, or sewing. Twas 37 I all woik and no \)\av with ih(;m liii1c>s, once in a while, thev induijj^ed in (]uiet games with cats anil puppies wticii the watehfiil e\e of the a//io wa:^ not on them. It was inipos- sil)le not to sympathize with the lu^ia, poor old woman, shrivelled and dried up bv her slave life out of whieh no eseape was i)ossil)le without extreme mental, soeial, as well, alasl as physical troul)les, more than she could bear. But out of those sunless days of harassing experiences she had unconscious- ly, perhaps, reached the hiprhest point that kindly as aixainst eo^otistical and brutish feel- ino^s can reach, fio^htin^- inch bv inch the battle of a good woman agamst all that self- ishness and arrogance embodies. vShe knew the purclv temporarv adxantages she could get, that she could go no farther, and that it wold I be easier to condone and sulier si- lent K'. I kit she ke})t on undaunted, stub- hornlv triK" tn her c;uporior instinct, prenrhmir bv example and l)\' word- what was riL'bt ^nid good. I low slie coinpcilci.1 my adniuaLion and m\- respect ! To watch for a time such situations, po\\'Lalc>> to help in the slightest wav, is one of the saddc-^t ex])criences of the >assing tra\'cllcr. 38 -;^r^;t:^=i=r: if'iS -f^ • "Jl tjii' ^^Si?^ ^^^Siffl lli ^ His Fai'oritc Chair in the Barl>c)' Shop. Argama-illa The aiiios iTturii ai sunset wa^ the ^v^m] for hupper, Uie niakini^ vi wliieh luul its dis- tinct local thu'or. The kitchen was a lari:e room, bare like the other rooms of the place but lor an old chest, a tabic, and the hcanli - a square of low Ijrick lloorin^" in a corner. Upon this hearth dried-up branches were set on tire, fiUinjx the room and transforming" the cook and her "'^;:^^ - assistants into witches in the midst of some internal incan- tation. Gre- gorio's was a well-to-do fam- ily, h a \' 1 n o meat once a day durinir the harvest - tnne. I n o r d i n a r v t 1 m e s , of course, t h e v had it but once a week. The meat was always served in a sort of soup. The girls, with flowered kerchiefs around 40 1 '\* i'*i i^ \ \ \ R li ! , Argamasilla i;,Fj.:|4 M: m ^ ^1 ^^P^^: '~' ' ' •' '" i aHlVi'v .'1'-' L "T • ' •//^-" ^' .< "My^ y f ^ - - ^ ;; but Sundays were days like the others, ex- cept that the men improved the chance of making coarse remarks about the women go- 43 ! Arsramasilla ing to church. There ^vas, at Ica^t tu me, mighty little religion and a great deal of su- perstition among these Argamasilla folk. The croincr to church was the one diversion in the terribly monotonous, hard life of the women, but the men preferred to sit or stand around the square, or on a friendly doorstep and in the same breath indulge in sneers at the priests and the Church and at professions of loyalty to "Our Lady." It is difficult to get at the real feelings of these people on religion. The contrast of their poverty and hard-working lives makes them distrust the ease and eomparative plenty of the priests, and they refuse to give a eent to the Church unless in sickness or In old ao-e, as a sort of investment for orrcat re- turns in this or the next world. After a fashion of their own they have reverential if not spiritual notions, but they can't help see- ino- the difference between the actions of their priests and true religion. — " No, Senor — they are in the Church to make a fine living out of it, not to be its humble and devoted ser- vants. Thev won't pray for us unless we pav them ! " The Procuradores, representatives of the 44 JkASt -_ V^,. n- ^. ,i -f ,, I ■ • ^. ,-0 1 1 • T " I Argamasilh 1 - , -^ ■ ^tl'^" <; ... '• /i. •\. W' people of Castile, had .eivcn utterance to similar fcclino^s centuries ao^o : " Que no qiiicrcn los villanos ni cl vino del Sac7^amento si viene de z'uestras manos.'^ The villeins would refuse even the Sacra- mental wine if given through your hands. 46 Amamasilla Argamasillans, their puchlo having no in- dustry of any sort, sul)sist entirely on the neighhornig countrv, each villairer rentino- some wheat or wine fields from a few land-owners, an aristocratic family in jKir- ticular which owns the largest i)art of the surroundnio: district. The best of the crop, not a percentao-c l)ut a tixed amount, iroes to the land-owner, who is thus insured against bad crops, the tenant besides payinj^ all the taxes, which are heavy. On one side no risks are taken, and the lack of income of the bad years is carried over to be made uj) in the ])rosj)erous years ; thus the tenant is in a perpetual condition of indebtedness to the landlord, an indebtedness which keei^s rolling up with usurious rates of interest, the onlv rates upon which consent to continuation of the lease can be secured. Landed proprie- tor here, as in the Italv of fifty years ago (and in manv districts of Southern Italv to- day), means usurer. This iniquitous svstem is another proof, if any were needed, of the decadence of 5])ain, the country where the communes conquered their rights against lords and kings as early, if not earlier, than in anv other countrv in 47 A roramasilla Europe — where the achievements of the Vaqucros of Asturia, the Ifcj-jJiandijios of GaHcia, the Connnujicros of Castile, tlie Agcruiaiiados of \^alencia, the Fucristas of Catalonia, lAragon, Navarre, and IM:icavc arc amon^ the most glorious of the contests for individual rights and liberty in the history of human progress. The poor Manchegan of to-day is not so much unlike the villein of feudal times obliged to pay tribute to king and lord, to grind his wheat in the mill and bake his bread in the oven of his lord ; to live in the ca^tle'^ shadow with no right to work elsewhere. It is true that he can take wife or give his daughter in marriage with- out the consent of a master, and that he can make his will, thouQfh in his condition this is rather an empty privileo:e. The chief glory of Aro:amasilla is the Casa de Medrano, a solid stone house, whose main portion stands |)rol)al)lv in the same position, but for the decav of agrc, as when C.Vnvantes was kept a prisoner in its cellar." There is * The half-ruincd part of the house, connected bv a single nar- row doorway with the part now standing in g^ood condition, shows plainly the Moorish influence on the social conditions of the time, for it was the prison-like harem where the women of the house were kept away from any possible intrusion. 48 I Argamasilla little douht that this is the very place where the desio;n of the book, which was '' euQ-en- dered in a prison " (see prologue to the first part of Don Quixote), was first moulded. Some twenty-five feet by eight, and seven feet high, with a mere hole for window, this unhealthy cell is so dark that when the orig- inal door, still partly standing, with its iron clamps and nails, is closed, it precludes the possibilitv of Cervantes having been able to write in it. But to say this would be to the Argamasillans a personal insult. Cervantes says that the , book, as the *' child of my wit," was con- ceived in a prison, which satisfies the Ar- gamasillans that the whole book, even the second part, written ten }xars later than the first, was en- tirely written in this cellar! The villages of New Castile fight fiercely 4Q / ',^"X,^/vt if-ititeM>^ J ,1 ""•..•«'•*- • _~'^v.j^-v' ,y'^:^j^^^.Y^^'""f''-''''^'^'^''i-^"- ■'.' .-.■^.!ii.«:(' ■ ', •"X'',- ,1' ■ ^ f~ \fM- .1;,:,! ^K^^S .i-/\»]r"/ •' .-•C^-.. -ST' '^ ^N Arodc of a xillap^e personage who alternates the functions oi postmaster with his trade of eobbler. I sometimes gave him the pleasure of leaving his humble cobbler's l)ench to assume his im- portant governmental functions — a trans- formation he enjoyed as much as I did. He would receive with great respect these mis- sives for strange countries and remain ])on- dering upon the fact that so many davs were needed to t;peed them on to their destination, and that Americano postmen should handle these letters entrusted to his faithful hands. He would follow them on their way, and at each new meeting venture opinions as to how far they had gone, so that his gratification, when about leaving La Mancha I informed him of the safe arrival of my first letters, was (Treat. ''Thank God ! Senor, our postal ser- vice is perfection ! " The extraordinary interest manifested in Cervantes now points to a national honor 52 Argamasilla which each village tries to monopolize. In this country of contrasts, where the differ- ences of climate and surroundings have made the peninsula a land of well-defined provinces, with distinct habits and costumes evolved from the conditions of each separate milieu, patriotism is sectional. *' I am not a Span- iard, I am a Catalan," expresses the general attitude. But here, in La Mancha, villages 53 Argamasilhi are up in arms aoainst other villacres, simply on aecoLint of Cervantes. Beyond doubt, however, it is proved that Mii^uel de Cervan- tes was born in Aleala de Ilenares, a town of New^ Castile, east of Madrid, and that in .Vr- cramasilla the "meagre, shrivelled, wdiimsieal" child of his genius was conecived. There are also strong- probabdities of truth in the local claim that the oriorlnal of Ouixote was Don Rodrigo de Pacheco, one of the hidalgos of Argamasilla at the time of Cervantes's aj)- pearance in the town as royal collector of taxes. It was by the authority of Rodrigo . 54 Argamasilla that rer\ nntes was imprisoned in the cellar of the Casa de Medrano, and Rodrigo's house, hucly destro\cd, corresponded in its main l)oints with the description in the book. In an old j)ainting, whicii is preserved in the parish church, he and his niece are kneelino^ before the Xhgm thanking her for her as- sistance, as set forth in the quaint descrip- tion at the bottom of the picture : Onr Lady appeared to Don Rodrijro de Pacheco on the eve of St. Mattheio, hi the year 1601, and cured htm— who had prom- 7scd her a tamp of stiver, and called day and nierJlt upon her in his great affliction— of a great pain he had in his hrain throicgh a cliillincss wliich Iiad fallen i7ito it. The good priest, Cervantist by birth and choice, who had accompanied me to the church, and who was pleased at my interest in the picture, diplomatically disguising the object of his aro^ument under flowers of Cas- tdian rhetoric, tried to make me agree with him and the Argamasillans. I was not con- scious that I failed to realize that there was Don Ouixote in flesh and blood. The hi^rh 55 •^mmrm^ . 1^ I Argnnv.isilla cheek - bones and wandcrincr eyes seemed Don OuLxote cnouizh, thouuh the sensual full lower lip harcll}' so. But later on 1 hee.mie cunvinccd that my enthusiasm \va> not lire- ly enough dis{)laved to reassure niv new" ae- quaintanec, for he stuck to nie duiing mv stay in Arganiasilla, going so far as to often abandon his favorite ehair in the barber-shoj) to convince me ai^^ain and aiiain that Don Rodrigo was undoubtedly the original of Don Quixote. lie had hopes that on mxn^- turn home I should stand up boldlv, ehal- lenging all-eomers to disprove that impor- tant faet, and therebv exalt the fame and glory of his town in that far-away America, which, in spite of all past Spanish ex|)eri- ences, remains in the popular mind a mys- terious El Dorado with wonderful vegetation and full of gold. And Americans, in spite of their queer uncivilized mannei-s and mode of life, are strangely attractive to these good peasant folk, who consider them all — for there is hardly any knowledge of a North and South, of an English and Spanish America — half-breed descendants of the great Conquis- tadores and the Indians — some sort of bas- tard children of Spain, who have grown rich 56 Argamasilia J.^!;:: If'3^';*= i,-*^ ^ " at the expense of the mother country, and yet whose ])ower redounds to the glory of the Spanish family ! My friend the i:»rlest went so far as to post his niece at an upper window of his comfortable house to watch should I happen to pass in the lonely street, so that he mi^jht kno\y where I went, and go and button-hole iTie. The duty can hardly have been irksome to the damsel — it chimed in too well with local customs, for at the approach of foot- steps in the usually deserted streets the lat- ticed windows would always be seen to bios- 57 : I Argamasilla som for an instant with inquisitive female faces. This curiosity is never offensive, and one can't help feeling thankful at being a source of innocent distraction to people whose life turns hopelessly in the same nar- row circle. Wherever I went wiles were resorted to to look at me without imperti- nence. Some fortuitous duty had to be per- formed, the street had to be sprinkled, or the woman was apparently immersed in con- versation on her neighbor's threshold, gestic- ulating about something which was not said, with eyes and ears fixed on that most un- usual sight — an Americano in Argamasilla. On the last evening before my first sallv, Gregorio and I had a walk through the vil- lage, kicking the thick-lying dust and knock- ing our feet on the rough stones of the ir- regular streets without sidewalks. If ere and there stood a stranded cart, lOfroups sat si- lently before open doors — the lights, in that harmony of gray and purple, pitching in a w^arm note like a praudy flower in the dark hair of an Andaluslan girl. The customary salutations were exchanorcd in a low, ofrave voice — ' Go your way with God " accom- panied us on our way. We sat on the little 58 Argamasilla bridge which spans that curious river the Guadiana, and in the dense foliage over us the nightingales were singing, and little falls near by murmuring an accompaniment. Gre- gorio told many a story which had the musty per- fume of bvsfone, forgotten days, about this won- derful Guadiana, that had its birth in swamps, and after running- for miles loses itself, to reappear seven leairues farther .~ _'>'^ >- ..Pfi^^^f^-Cx \ \ ^v-l L on. "Very mysterious, isn't it?" says my companion. ''Once one of the kings of Spain was talking about his country with the king of France, and to his chagrin was finding that all that Spain had, France also had. It had olives and wheat and grapes, and everything that Spain had, until the king thought of the Guadiana, and he said : ' I have a bridge seven leagues in length.' The poor Preneh king had nothing further to 59 I I Argamasilla som for an Instant with inquisitive female faces. This curiosity is never offensive, and one can't help feeling thankful at being a source of innocent distraction to people whose life turns liopelessly in the same nar- row circle. Wherever I went wiles were resorted to to look at me without imperti- nence. Some fortuitous duty had to be per- formed, the street had to be sprinkled, or the woman w^as apparently immersed in con- versation on her neighbor's threshold, o;estie- ulating about something which was not said, with eyes and ears fixed on that most un- usual sight — an Americano in Argamasilla. On the last evening before my first sallv, Gregorio and I had a walk through the vil- lage, kicking the thick-lying dust and knock- ing our feet on the rough stones of the ir- regular streets without sidewalks. Here and there stood a stranded cart, o^roups sat si- lently before open doors — the liochts, in that harmonv of gray and purple, pitching in a warm note like a gaudy flower in the dark hair of an Andalusian girl. The customary salutations were exchangred in a low, srrave voice — ' Go your way with God " accom- panied us on our wav. We sat on the little 58 Argamasilla r5-J>-- Si-^*".'^'?^. 1^2i>- r* -■■ - bridge which spans that curious river the Guadiana, and in the dense foliage over us the nightingales were singing, and little falls near by murmuring an accompaniment. Gre- gorio told many a story which had the musty per- fume of bygone, forgotten days, about this won- derful Guadiana, that had its birth in swamps, and after runnini^ for miles loses itself, to reappear seven leagues farther on. "Very mysterious, isn't it?" says my companion. *' Once one of the kings of Spain was talking about his country with the king of France, and to his chagrin was finding that all that Spain had, France also had. It had oliv^es and wheat and grapes, and everything that Spain had, until the king thought of the Guadiana, and he said : * I have a bridge seven leagues in length.' The poor French king^ had nothing further to 59 Arg-amasilla i say." There, come down bv way of mouth through generations, altered but elearly rec- ognizable, was the story of the Ambassador Rui Gonzalez de Clavijo, sent by Enrique III. to Tamerlane, and who, having in mind this same Guadiana, boasted that in his mas- ter's dominions was a bridge forty miles wide, on the top of which two hundred thousand herd of cattle could graze. Ill The Cave of Montesinos 60 -~*--"*--'-' — v-^ ^^:: ^■~-- v^ ^ ^ The Cave of Montesinos I WAS fortunate during my first week in Argamasilla in enlisting the services of Ezechiel, an honest old fellow, possessor of a mule cart, and fairly acquainted with the surrounding districts. For many days thereafter Ezechiel and I rambled over this poor land of La Mancha ; and if 1 had to pay for my delightful experiences in some bodily discomforts, they were part of the game and were more than compensated for by constant intercourse with plain, old-time folks, by the superb scenery, with its ruined eastles and caravansaries, relics of feudal and Moorish days, by the ancient customs and the legends which, like ivy on a gnarled oak- tree, cling to every bit of this historical and romantic land. It is a little before two in the moniins: when, for the first time, I find Ezechiel at the posada door loading provisions, hard- boiled eggs, loaves of bread, skin bottles of wine and water, and the inseparable compan- 6-, >"■*••■»'%«*» , 1*1 lt<' The Cave of Alontesinos .-■ V. -:£■■} >^:^^ e-r-«-: y ^"^ ^ '■■ ion of every jManchco^an, the shot-^izun, in hi^ two-wheeled eart. A few ^tep^, and like Panza and Quixote "we sally forth from the villaore without anv person seeinir us," and are in the wide, tiat eountrv. In spite of the darkness, a sort of translueenee perme- ates sky and earth, orivino; to the seene the weird aspect of a country of dreams. The faint, shadowv silhouettes of the escort of two mounted police, '' Guardias Civdes," hob up and down before us like intangible Im- a2;es. Our mule vanishes in the eloom ; the onlv thino-s trulv alive are two stars — two watching- eyes peeping above the horizon. Stretched on one of the two benches which 64 The Cave of Montesino s line the cart, I doze peacefullv, lulled by the subdued breathing of old mother earth m her sleep— the grand lullaby made bv all the Hihnitesimal noises of nature, above which the fitful jingling of the bells plaved a delightful silvery cadence. Steadfastly, up and down invisible hills, the cart advances on its monotonous jour- nev into the solitude, creaking like a creat- ure in i)ain. Once in awhile, like a warrior I)re])aring for the assault, our mule stops an nistant, gathering strength to bump airainst and surmount some inevitable obstacle, and then follows a bounce on the rude benches and occasionally a landing on the rope it n ■it"! 65 ' 1. I' The Cave of Montcsinos ncttincr which forms the bottom of the cart. As day approaches, the countrv reveals it- self in a series of slowly changincr panoramas. The dreary plain is left behind, and the sav- ./ \=- # ^ •', >. \ ^^■■^^ i^ \ 'X "N acre and picturesque sccnerv of the JA^/v/r now surrounds us. How naturallv the- two pathetic fiorures of Quixote and Sancho loom up in this admirable settincr, and harmonize with the g-randiose, severe lines of the rocky hills surmounted by ruins. We pass ])\- scores of hatai^ics (fullincr-mills), which Cer- vantes may have had in mind in his advent- 66 The Cave of Montesin OS ure of the Fulling-Hammers (Chapter XX.), for the surroundings of rocks and tall trees chime well with his description. The peas- ants who manned them in Cervantes's time must have been in appearance, tvpe of face and costume, very like the brawnv Arab- looking fellows we meet, and the range of ideas and style of living of these cannot be essentially different from that of their ances- tors. The mills themselves, bearing signs of extreme old age, make pretty pictures, with their dripping moss and maiden-hair garmenls. It would be airreeable to think they are the same hatailes which crave such tremendous sensations to the worthv Knicrht and frightened his faithful Squire,' but Uie mij)ossible adventures of the hero of romance have been made to a.rrree with the stern facts of geogra])hy, and in consequence we know, as Cervantes probably did not, that the ba- /a?}es he described were located in a definite place east of Ciudad Real. The roadway begins to skirt the lagoons of Ruidera, the chain of lapis lazuli mirrors set m crowns of luxuriant rushes, formed hy the Guadiana, the mighty river of Don Ouix- ote's country. Toward nine, while catchincr 6? // 5 ^' - ■ ■ "^ •<; ^ ' The Cave of Montesinos a glimpse of a waterfall, we stumble on l^u- idcra, a handful of straggling houses singu- larly dwarfed by the hujre ruins of a palace once one of the lordly scats of the mighty Order of San Juan, whom Cervantes served in the lonely capacity of tax collector. As we enter the one street ("street" by courtesy and for want of a ht name to describe it) I suddenly realize why Argamasillans have reason to be proud of their villaire. Area- masilla i^ a modern, eivilizcd city compared to these tumble -down houses, with doors broken or hanging by ropes or prop})ed up by stones, or gates without doors, and the shocking dispkiy of iilth and decay every- where. Hie cart is left to sizzle in the sun. Our Guardias hold court, surrounded by effusive vula,Ui\\ t )CCti- sions, yet I coulln t hut take pleasure in ori\-nirr in at once (a ij^reat mistake), telling- llu-ni that, of eoLirse, 1 hoped they would aeeept their share of my meal. The prev provini;- so easv, straightway the scope of mv new friends' and parasites' operations c:i'ew to larc:e j)ro- portions. Why shouldn't the\' rearranm' the details of my trip so as to orive themselves as little travelling and as many feasts as pos- 11 -^ ^'■-''^^:^^I^-^^ \' ( I The Cave of Monteslnos sihle? The most eaptivating reasons, en- livened with Castilian ])earls of rhetoric and llowery and courteous expressions, flowed as naturally from their lij)s as water from a spring. I enjoyed it for a half hour, till it became clear that the stranger, who was fall- incr from the dicrnity of Excenencia to that of C'ahallero, and linally of ])lain Scnor, haci reasons, and good ones, though m\- f i iends couldn't understand them, for kee])in<' to his original j.hni. Nevertheless they kindjv stood *'n each -idc of me during my repast, arui \aliaiul\- heipc-d light the swanris ol llies v^hiih ihreatened eadi iiiorsel. I (\\j)eele(l my huge skin winc-boiilc lu be in a Male of conaj)^e at the end of their dinnca", but was liardlN pre])ared for the (hiardias's hastv de- parture and return with an enormous pan of wine-punch some villagers had ])repared for tliem, a ])erformance which was repeated several times. The Guardia Civil, this flower of Sj)eeial Sj)anish growth, half-military and half-poliee, which has worked l)y \t^rs/)ri/ dc corps so great a change in the brigand-ridden provinces of Sj)ain, and has justly deserved the honored title of terror of evil-doers, is ai)t at times, when in the back country 73 t I I ( r The Cave of Montesinos where communications are difficult and the ignorance and fear of the peasants insure immunity, to relax somewhat from its high estate and indulge in such undignified per- formance as this. Yet the failings of a few do not impair the great value and high char- acter of a body of some twentv-eight thou- sand men, which, taken in its cjisc)}ihh\ is admirably disciplined and renders the most valuable services. When 1 got ready to start off again toward noon my worthy protectors were l\-ing limp in all their imposing militarv paraphernaha on the sofas above described, snoring like angry bulls, and 1 was grateful at i^eing able to go without them. As we march away from the river we fmd the countrv savag^e and desolate. Red earth- mounds surround us for hours witii peculiar clusters of low, stunted trees, looking like Hocks of sheep. The thermometer marks loo de^rrees in the shade, vet ihc furnace air is drv, full of ozoue, and rich with the pungent ^aroma of wild mountain plants. In a'delicious monotony of surroundings the hours pass, enlivened only by the SOngS of the whirring, bustling, leaping locusts. How 74 V;- "m.: s ^. '>i'i t> ■ ■ ' "-^ ■■■■ ■*. *• r y^ ^ 1\ 0. ►^ tc' ^ ^^d . • ft ft • ■ The Cave of Montesinos The Cave of Montesinos *: I ■-/■^^ ^,^> true IS the Spanish equivalent for our '' (loo;- davs" — fan/a la clucharra — the sono; of the locusts and cicadas rejoicino; in the heat, which serves but to make the silence of the solitude heard. In the orood places the springless, unwieldy cart, with its solid iron axle, moves in a constant tremor, enlivened by occasional bumps. In bad places the process is reversed, and occasional rumbbng; lulls are the momentary diversions to the continual roucrh, bumpinor dance. Our wny little mule bravely marches on at an even pace, and picking her way daintily among the loose stones carries her load over the rough road as if it were mere play. She is a good representative of her class, while her master 76 '>^-?:s is a rare specimen of the muleteer fraternity. He has not even a whip, but his mule under- stands well the mean- ing of his words. Up the steep hill, he keeps up a constant stream of interjections to encourage her—*' Hija!'' " Morcna f " " Daughter ! " " Brunette ! " ''One more, daughter!" "Good!" "Go ahead ! " " Beauty i " " Aya ! " " Arrarha I " —'* There we are," the hrave hrute making a visible efifoit at each word. When the top is reached Ezechiel rewards her with " GuapaJ' "Beauty," "Take it gently now, beauty," and with his quiet voice falls into praising the mule, which is his fortune. He could verily say of her what Sancho said of his ass : " O child of my bowels, born in -x;x ■a 1 '. 1^ \ (I 1:^ I... 1 i ' (I I •J I The Cave of Montesinos my very home, the dehght of my wife, the envy of my neighbors, the sharer of my burdens, and, beyond all, the support of half my person ; for, with six and twenty maravedis, which thou earnest for me daily, do I make half my living." Ezechiel has a wife, and If he does not name her (for that would be contrary to custom), one feels that she occupies the whole background of his thoughts. I learn that they are very much concerned now, for the pig they are fattening- does not come on well. Like all Manchegos, he rents a little field from some rich land-owner, which supplies potatoes and wheat to pay the land-owner, and enough besides, when all goes well, to keep the wolf from the door. ,|i .^: z': -tST-.i •i^^t^^ r^^ ^ Cr^r-' Q " x .1 1 The Cave of Montesinos .^^~ «^,-. -Tf'S?; r i.Jf iii> fi.. % To cfct an idea of the smallness of Eze- chiel's income one has but to know that the only money which comes into the family is earned by his occasional journeys with his cart, doinof errands and hauling freif^ht. He has an average of a month out of the vear at such work, and about four pesetas a day (at the time of my journcv less than sixty cents in gold), out of which he must pay for the shelter and sustenance of himself and his mule during these trips. What little money is made goes toward paving for the rent of the house, buvinc: the few household and farmiiiir implements and the cotton and wool out of which the wife makes their clothes. 79 I I' i'i I I 1 I ■HI The Cave of Montesinos my very home, the delight of my wife, the envy of mj neighbors, the sharer of mv burdens, and, beyond all, the support of half my person ; for, with six and twenty maravedis, which thou earnest for me daily, do I make half my living." Ezechiel has a wife, and if he does not name her (for that would be contrary to custom), one feels that she occupies the whole background of his thoughts. I learn that they are very much concerned now, for the pig they are fattening does not come on well. Like all Manchegos, he rents a little field from some rich land-owner, which supplies potatoes and wheat to pay the land-owner, and enough besides, when all goes well, to keep the wolf from the door. The Cave of Montesinos i'. .& -.cC?^^^^'^^^ -,<*-'? X r.V "-> To get an idea of the smallness of Ezc- chiel's income one has but to know that the only money which comes into the family is earned by his occasional journeys with his cart, aoninf errands and hauunnr freiQrht. He has an average of a month out of the year at such work, and about four pesetas a day (at the time of my journey less than sixty cents in gold), out of which he must pay for the shelter and sustenance of himself and his mule during these trips. What little money is made goes toward paying for the rent of the house, buvino: the few household and farnilnir Implements and the cotton and wool out of which the wife makes their clothes. (I : .J 79 '.■m 1 11 \ * I. I ' I The Cave of IMontesinos The Cave of Montesinos Late In the afternoon, having met with no one since leaving Ruidera, we pass through Osa de Monteil, the houses half-hidden in clouds of dust raised bv the threshing go- ing on all about. An hour after, Ezechiel, L iET I fe who has never been in this direction be- fore, loses his bearings, and we have a pain- ful trudge across the brush till the yawn- So .-^-rk-. \i^ .•»•- H}£t X., ing chasm of the valley of the Guadiana is again l)efore us. It is not easy to locate the object of our journey, the famous Cave of Montesinos, '' of which so many and such wonderful things are " still *' told in these }:>arts," and we are about to give uj3 the quest when a goatherd conies to our rescue. It was fitting that such a quaint figure as that of the lonely shepherd we met, dressed in the primitive costume which has not changed for centuries, with the crooked staff in hand and a horn dangling by his side, should be our guide to the mysterious place. On ex- amination it is evident that Cervantes knew it, for his artistic description, cunningly ex- aggerated to suit the necessities of the ro- mance, is true to nature and full of local Si I The Cave of Monteslnos color. The " Vagabond in Spain " was mis- taken in placing the recess or chamber of which Quixote speaks as on the left hand of the cave going down. It is on the right hand, as in the story. The fact is not with- out value, since the " Vagabond " infers from it that Cervantes had not seen, but only heard of, the cave. Not being equipjied with the needful lights, I could not fathom the mys- terious recesses of the cave, which did not surprise Kzechiel or the shepherd, who were sure that no livinof man ever could ^o far into it, as there were insurmountable obstacles in the way— treacherous ground, a fathom- less lake, a turbulent stream, and Heaven knows what ! " Surelv there arc lots of l*i3^V V. ■ '. -^ r > ■ vf?;'-;'-- .r^r ."^'/l'?' ^^i^ p.^ fe 7^ke Hermitage of Saeiices. Monteil IT is dark night when after leaving the cave of Montesinos we arrive at the Cortijo de St. Pedro, or at the three houses baptized with that llorid a|)pellation. We have had our sup|)er on the road and I am too tired to watch the new mood of our friends, the Guardias, who he it said to their credit look somewhat ashamed of themselves. Getting into the hovel, some ten by fifteen feet in size, which is to be my nii^ht's lodginu-i^lace, 1 lind the luxury of eU'an sheets over a straw matlicss on one of the two stone benches on eaeii side of the fu'e ~ place ; on the otiier bench a vouth stretched at lull k-nutli and sleepin^C^ peacefully 'I he (lUaidia-^ aii dressed IjuL fui ihcii bouts, wiiicJ! tlic)' take ('*rr lie down to slcTp on the iloor, niul tlianks to habit cuul the glories of the dejeu- ner, succeed. Besides tlie entrance - door there arc two doorless passages, one iead- WYI to the closet monopolized by the aiiio and his wife, the other to the statole. Sleep 87 k M on toil is impossible ; the very stone under my mat- tress teems with animal activity, but 1 prefer lying awake to going outside where the cold mist of the neighboring marshes is saturated with malaria. Toward one in the morning some muleteer loudly knocks for admittance. The a?no gets up, lights his oil-lamp (that of the Romans of old and the Moors of to-day), and in scampers a troop of mules to the stable ; but as there is no place there for all, the new-comer stretches on the floor of our room between two of his mules, whose ner- vously tinkling bells tell tales of martyrdom, as do also the plaintive sounds, the groans, and quick motions of the restless sleepers. O/i/ dura tcllus Ibcrice ! At last, unable to stand any more, I leave the room and uro:c Ezechlel to start while I make an excursion to the Ermita de Saclices, the same Hermitage mayhap, (piicn sabc ? where Don Ouixotc, Sancho, and the stu- dent stopped on their way back from the Enchanted Cave of Montesinos, and where, not having: the s^ood fortune of finding the Hermit at home, but only his she deputy (a by no means uncommon appanage of her- mitages in those days), they were unable to 88 4 A Monteil secure what Sancho so much wanted there— a drautrht of sTood wine. "If it had been a water thirst, there are wells on the road wdiere I could have quenched it," was the squire's blunt acknowledgment for the wom- an's offer of the tame substitute. At small ex])ense the chapel could be restored to its original condi- tion, SO well built it is. But her- mits are no more the fashion of the day, and the nu- merous army of priests and monks has been so re- duced that all over the land, which is vcarlv growing poorer, most of the c h u r e h e s and chaj^els are fall- mir to rums. A man whom we find prowling about the house offers a helping hand to harness the mule. As 89 Monteil vW . - X- . V* ,-^^.Nf^ V V ^-N. l^ l£ ^^ we move away Ezechiel says : " Vou saw that man ; he is to go to prison soon. He has kiUed his brother, the poor fellow." The case is typical of the temper of these people. This man Carlos had a brother Mi.c^- ueL who one morninc: hitelv amused him- self by throwing stones at Carlos's dog. Carlos, hearing his dog yell, came out, saw what Miguel was doing and told him to stop. Miguel refused to do so, adding that if his brother did not go back to the house and stop talking he would throw stones at him too. Whereupon Carlos went back to the house, got his gun, and coming back to the 90 Monteil •'■\- — V ^^^tei-^c^?^/ V„ \. f ;w -.3 'I* '■ •* 'Kry ,^/ w door-step, shot his brother and killed him. I asked Ezechiel, '* What made Miguel tor- ment the dog ? Had he been bitten by him ? Ezechiel says : " No ; I think not ; but you see Miguel had a large family of daughters. You know the saying : ' Tres hijas y una niadrc, ciiafro diablos para 7111 pad7'c. Three daughters and a mother, four devils for a father.'" '^Why is Carlos free?" I asked. He replied : "Well, they'll take him to pris- on when his trial comes on in a month or so. '' Aren't they afraid he will run away In the meantime ? " '' No ; where do you want him to run to, Senor? He can't hide in the 91 M on tell Sierras, for the Guardias will find him easily. He can't take a train and go anywhere, for he has never been on the cars in his life any more than I have, and he wouldn't know where to go." I inquired what the penalty for such an offence was likely to be. The old man replied : " I don't know ; per- haps ten years, but probably less. You see there was provocation ! " We skirt the l)anks of the lagoons, and a succession of exquisite little Corot pictures follow one another at each new turn of the road. A gray gauze envelops them, blot- ting out the details and leaving only impres- Q- i. "'•'' Pilu-: '■■ W.'^r^- 't *^ :r '■^:'•• ; ■J#;;/1P •• ■■■■ • 01 •^ ! - "So Montcil sions of large masses in quiet tones under the opaline sky. Passinij by the Castle of Kochafrida, its hoary, rambling walls, some fifteen feet thiek, piereed l)y a few small openings, its huge erenellated towers erown- ing still the roeky inlet whieh rises soli- tary from the sea of reeds in the centre of a lake, look so terribly solid and massive as to bring forcibly to one's imagination the mediDoval days. The site has a character of grandeur ; the hills on both sides of the lake showing their bare flanks, streaked with strange metallic colors, reds, yellows, and purples, in bands and in masses, alternating in ruthless barbaric splendor, emphasized by the few gnarled, dwarfed trees growing crookedly in the crevices. The contrast of all that savacre barrenness with the beautiful lake and the rows of centenarian chestnuts on its shores with their noble masses of foli- age is fine. But above it all, how this cas- tle, " like roosting falcon musing on the chase," focuses the attention ! What a strange thing it is to nineteenth century eyes, and how forcibly it typifies that period of the developmicnt ot humanity during which our race stumbled along in the traces 94 IMonicil I I of the feudal reo:ime. Tlie Carlovinirian le- pends, full of simple humanity, which are en- twined about these ancient stones come up to one's memory as not so distant after all. And the damsel Rosadorida's love and eourtshi]) of brave Montesinos is quite new- womanlike. We cross the marshes at the end of the Rochafrida lagoon, climb slowly up the hill, and find ourselves over the ridge on a desert- ed plain, broken in low undulations — an im- mense sea of reddish clay dotted with a few low junipers and briars. Our road is like those caravan roads of Africa — hundreds of yards in width, and made of a multitude of paths crossing one another, mixing together pell-mell, among which the mule picks the easiest with unerring instinct. That road is for hours the solitary evidence of human pas- sage in the whole landscape, until at length, in a suddenly abrupt depression, the canon bed of a winter torrent, we spy some shep- herds with their flocks of sheep. Going out of our way we hail them, w^anting to talk with them. They nod their heads and move sullenly away, and it seemed to me as if, being what they were, that was the most 95 Monteil U natural thing for them to do. One docs not spend all one's life in such places with- out being affected by their forlornness and desolation. It is arid, savage La ]Mancha which makes the Manchegan peasants shy, taciturn, and sombre. These traits, always more or less prominent in all Spaniards, are they not largely due to the same cause — the lonely and savage character of the country ? Toward ten, at the end of a weary, tortu- ous climb, w^e come to some houses clustered around a big, ugly church. If ever the name of a town has belied its appearance it is the name of this sordid village, Villahermosa ! It is needless to describe its hovel of a po- sada, or the miserable lunch w^hich we found 96 Monteil in it. Suffice it to say that as soon as our mule could l)c made ready we were off airain for a reeonnoissance some miles south toward Monteil, in chase of romantic compensations for the trivial hardships of my Sancho self. And 1 found them straightway in the rough descent to the valley, where the mule stumbling, our cart turned a somersault. We had an amusing time making repairs, and were quite ready to start again when a r-"^^ ^X^ 'A •if' .' ' ;\ ■>■ ' ■ i I K ■>y / r / y I % 97 Monteil conii'l\' vouiil:' Wiiiiian nIojsjh/.I to exchanjje vic\v> of the affair wiifi l^Zfchiil. She was mounted on a donkex', had her hah\- and some bundles in her arms and managed to hold a couple of loaded nudes, besides gesticulating- freelv. After some good-nat- ured chaff the Httle ofroup scampered down the steep incline at a lively trot, and we followed more cautiously. Two leagues away, across the i)lain, were scattered, like huge monsters asleep, some queerly shaped mounds, on the highest of which was what remained of the famous Castle of Monteil. What a revelation of the old days these ruins were, and how thev completed the pictures evoked by the Castle of Ivochafrida ! Kach new impression of my rambles In I. a Mancha confirmed or helped the others, giving me the opportunity 1 sought of |)laeing tlie ad- ventures of the Knight of the Rueful Coun- tenance in their orii^inal settinir. At the foot of the castle, in the midst of the ureat mountain - fringed plateau, the eight or ten lesser rocky hills lie low like vassals of the forbiddinir old castle. Such a siii:ht as this, typifying chivalry and the feudal idea, must have made Don Quixote happy. That im- 98 n Cv! 1^ .'vstjj ; ^ 'V-f V-'. / ^^ ■^1 .■■w-s> ^^■m I*^^ ■-mm i :<> iCT I, h \^^ .1--' Moiitcil. Monteil pregnable fortress, whose walls will with- stand the injuries of time as stoutly as the rock on which they are built, is like an eagfle's aerie, the home from which the master, with his tenantry in the hovels of the village at his feet, dominated the whole tributary region around. From there he w^ould start and prey upon vassals and neigh- bors. Times have changed for the better, even in Spain. The little settlement — a typical mountain village — has an Alpine look, every little stone of its houses and pavements stieknig out, bleak, colorless, gnawed by the hard teeth of the elements. Its tortuous streets are haunted by fine specimens of picturesque humanity, sane, clear-eyed, proud of bearing, and dressed like their ancestors of three cen- turies ago. At the door of the posada where we have a draught of the dry heady wine of Monteil, the conversation turns naturally on semi-historical, semi-legendary events, which are as real to these people, nay, more real than the contemporary happenings of Madrid or Cuba, and I am urged to visit the neigh- boring fields where the last battle of the war waged between Don Pedro, the Cruel, and 100 Monteil Henry of Trastamara was fought, in March, 1369, and where Henry murdered his kino- and l)r()ther, unfairly held down bv some French Knights, whose conscience rebelled at striking Don Pedro themselves, but per- mitted them to aid and abet the foul deed. Our audience worked itself up into a frenzy against the French Knights of 1 369. " These pigs of foreigners, we would settle it with them, but they have never dared come back since," said the most rabid. That such pages of history should remain vividly impressed on the minds of these nine- teenth century ignorant folk, and still be so loi X N u ''J.J r*''. T* •^ -^ ^^ ^MoniLii. Monicil much a part of their Hfc, seems wonderful to us who, concerned mainly with the things of the immediate present, east but rare g-lanees into the past. But when one realizes how familiar these peasants are with the old ro- mances, it seems as if the moral of human develoi)ment and eivilization halted in plaees, for these Spaniards of to-day are very niueh like the English of the Elizabethan period, whose minds were hlled with the legendary adventures of the heroes of precisely the same romances. Tusserand, in his " Encrlish Novel in the Time of Shakespeare," shows that translations and adaptations of the ancient Portuguese and Si)anish books of chivalry, of which the ''Amadis" is the ty{)e, were as popular in England as they had already be- come in b^rance and in (icrmany. Eater, even, Johnson on a visit to Hisho}) Perry found " Don Belianis," and sittiiiLT in the garden, dcx'ourcxl it to the end, and one of those interminable novels of chivalrv was a gi cat faxorlte of Burke. I)e Foe, in whose novels the reaction against the romantic tra- dition hrst asserted itself, was greatly inllu- enced bv the Spanish picaresque novels, es- pecially the " Lazarillo," a great favorite also 103 Monteil of Cervantes, which had been in Spain a sa- tiric protest against romances and the asser- tion of the common people, of the every-day things of life. Realism and Romanticism are no new terms — certainly not new things. The con- temporary battle between the realistic novels and the tales of adventure was fought long ago in old Spain. But while in other west- ern European countries the pendulum has since swung back and forth, Spain, living in the past, has to-day the same popular lit- erature which England borrowed from her during the Elizabethan period. It was greatly relished then and endured long in "^ ' - - ~T!^'^ ",**«?*' \,- U J ^n — ^: '/^^>^- \ r^.^< '---: «f 11 Y \ ■y /:*' .•*<^~ '•'i („ '1. Villa /iiiifiosa. 104 ^l^^l-— .W».g*i»< . I W i I ! Alontcil the jiuisc of stories for children (Steele, in "The Tattler," spcakinii^ of his visits to his friend's son — the typieal l)()y of the period, old enough to enjoy a good story — pietures him as greatly delighted with these old tales). The coarsely printed little chap books, the single sheets adorned with rouirh wood- ents which r^^^dlers sell or give as a pre- mium to purchasers in the fairs of I.a Mancha, all tell the same old adventures of Christian chevaliers, castle damsels and Moors. Galdos, X'aldes have not made the slightest headway in the j)opular imagina- tion. They fmd their audience in the cities — the country is still devoted to the en- chanted ad\'entures of kiil<^hts-crrant which Cervantes warred acrainst. We pass silently o\'er the scene of this fratricidal butcherv— the Castle of Monteil looming up solitary l)ehind, while before us \'illahermosa stretcfies a jnu-plish silhouette of houses, like a low battlement dominated by the massive tower of its church — undei- a tragic sky with a bloody squadron of fantas- tically shaped clouds scurrvinpr along Hke an army In rout. The north wind blows a gale, 1 06 I Monteil and it is cold. July is the warmest month of the year in these parts, yet even in July, thoui: h it often is over a hundred in the shade during the hot hours of the day, heavy jackets and mantles are worn morning and evening. At the miserable posada we are glad of a place in the circle of silent guests squatted before the scanty fire of brushwood, while on our backs the wind blows from the doorless arched opening into the court-yard. Our return journey to Argamasilla took some sixteen hours over a rarelv used trail. f> -•i--v-.,<-— - |ii?0^' -'y\ ^V^; - >> ->-.. 9 4 107 / i' f ■ • .■■■ "»/.'■• ... : • ''^>V'^'^::;-^-C'''^^^^^ •.-,5- • ,.yif ,,:5?A^t "' li r - ■../I ic^ <3 ••>* ^ Cm Monteil cutting: straight across country. The sce- nery of savagely bare plateaus, tawny and rocky and fragrant little wooded valleys, reminded me of the Corsican Mountains, probably because my companion had cau- tioned me to keep a sharp lookout and have my gun handy. Ezechiel's mongrel cur, he who was never to be seen and followed us in the shadow of the cart, must be added to my list of knowing brutes, for, as if con- scious of his duty, he now kept patrolling the ground before and about us in a most thorough and business-like manner. There are no brigands in La Mancha, but any arricro whom one meets might feel tempted to shoot someone, and run the risk of getting a few cents or even nothing for his trouble. We stopped to lunch by the side of a well, a favorite resort of flocks of wild pigeons who kept circling above our heads and showing by their sudden charges how they resented our intrusion. Farther on the temptation to hunt could hardly be resisted — all one had to do to bag one's supper was to stroll along the edire of the woods while the muleteer started the rabbits by his shouts. On approaching Argamasilla we followed the little canal log Montcil which, with the Guadiana, makes the territo- ry about the pueblo productive. Each little field taps the canal at a fixed hour and for a certain length of time, the amount of water taken being carefully measured and paid for accordingly. From Ezechiel's explanations, it was clear that the manaorement of this complicated system of irrigation, perfect m spite of its primitiveness, is even to its de- tails that which I had seen used in the oases of northern Africa. Here is, therefore, another one of those valuable leoracies of the Moors against which one stumbles constantly in La Mancha. V El Toboso no M^ 1 i i ■••^^ '^^ii;r ^^ ^ -.'\ ;''i;;jiiijisi^-; At ■:J^m:'il-^> <3 ^ EI Toboso STARTING from Argamasilla before davlioht, our little mule had trudcred durino[ eiirht lone: hours the denuded, inhospitable plain of La Mancha, where the unchecked cold blasts from the Sierras hold wild riot in the winter, and which was now lying j)rostrate under the furious caresses of the sun ; her parehed soil bursting now and again with dull sounds like the moans of a creature in pain. When we became aware of the })roximit>' of the highway we were look- ing for, it was by some ruins, inevitable con- comitants of this Land of the Dead. Before these silent, melancholy remains and in the absence of the living, one can but feel the presence of the dead. 'Tis as if the past cen- turies were walking by the side of the trav- eller, keeping him company, and little imagi- nation is needed to people again this great artery of human communications, thrown across the undefiled country by the Romans, vrith ll)erians, Goths, and Moors, with Span- 11"^ 1:1 'InhflSO iartls of the lime when Spain was the most powerful country of the eivihzeti worUi, and sec Isabella, Charles \'., the somlire Philij), speeding^ on in all the splendid paraphernalia of royalty, and with their retinue of haughty Castilians. What a sense of the swinor of his- tory one has in such places, and before tlie eternity of nature how ej)henieral and in- consequential human life seems. Ezechiel brings back some echoes of a past of which he is ignorant, in calling this road arrccifc, the Arab name which has remained in the Manchegan dialect, one of the manv |)atent souvenirs of five centuries of Moorish domi- nation. The ruins were of an important \^enta, such a caravanserai as was found every few leagues when all travelling and traffic be- tween Madrid and Seville passed alon.(i this royal highway. If the ingenious surmises of the learned, who have industriously erected their ponderous commentaries all around Cervantes's romance, are true, this Venta had the rare good fortune of being visited by Don Quixote in the beginning of his wan- derings. It is there, in the court-yard now empty and deserted, that the Knight of the 114 • / J5- M' .4/' /, ';! 1 \ - '% ; ■v V. .^1 ^^- 1 I ^ \ ■ .' V •; LI Tohoso Rueful Countenance kept his nocturnal vigil- at-arms preceding that morning when the rowdy, canny innkeeper made him a knio;ht. To me let it be only what it surely is, and that is enough — one of the rare pages of the days of old, the mute witness of the comedies and tragedies, of the pleasures and troubles of some of our predecessors in the human procession. The advent of great personages, setting in a flutter inn-keeper and servants, and remembered and retold for many years ; the merry and the sad reunions, the ro^rueries picaresque incidents, are blotted out of our world. Only these crumbling walls remain, pegs on which the mind in passing hangs its imaginings of forgotten people. And how soon these last vestiges of the Venta shall fall, submerged in the inevitable tide of oblivion ! Poor humanity, w^hose futile scratchino-s on the bosom of Mother Earth are but the mak- ing of its grave. Finding the w^ell empty, we resume our journey toward the road guard-house, two miles away, to find it closed, and on north- ward again, over the white road ablaze in the furnace heat. Under the cart-cov^ering the scorching sun-rays liquefy one's brain ; the ii6 / . . > ■ < • • ■■ .f ),-,,■■:■;. ^:te.xi (,>/M <^>t!t. '^•V-' ' > '. > ^ m El Tohoso landscape around shimmers under the same trembhng of the atmosphere that I had seen in the Sahara. Some olive-trees with their fantastic trunks and branches gnarled and crooked seem the vivid personifications of the tortures of the heat. A mendicant, seated in the dust scratching himself, is the first man we see on this royal road. Later two men pass us. " Poor ones also," says Ezechicl. Queer fashion for mendicants to carry their guns on their shoulders ! But then it is a general custom in La Mancha. These two fellow^s look like opera supernumeraries, ex- '.-K- ,< r- ""^.- 1"%. - ' j'-k"^ " Vv v^. i^^, I'- cept that their bronzed heads are finely chis- elled and full of character, and that they are ragged bevond any possible imagination. We attempt a hasty lunch in the shadow ii8 El 1 oboso of our cart, into which also the poor mule, lying down, stretches her head for comfort. It is hard work to eat without drinking, but such an experience has its value for the future enjoyment of that commonplace of life — the drinking of a glass of water. Toward four in the afternoon we find an- other guard-house and pure cool water. What a pleasure it is to see the dulness leave the eyes of our mule while she drinks in long-measured draughts, her legs and neck bracing up, her whole countenance changed — alert now, ready for fresh exertions. The brave brute ! Across country apin through a vfo-ii, a meadow where from the tall reeds, out of which baskets are made, pop out, like strange flowers, the heads of young horses and mules standing still, in herds, with their feet in the water of our friend the Guadiana. Then the road leading up hill after hill, we alight and literally put our shoulders to the w^heel. The character of the country changes. Climbing the first spurs of the mountains which form the northern limit of the plains of La Mancha, we enter one of the richest agricultural districts of Spain. Yet at this 119 El Toboso El Toboso 11 time of the year there is no sicrn of ve' ■• i^is .';'■ 'I'll /•■■if '^11 '^te' '^r > ifK^v^^l! V* t) El Toboso washed down with wine ad libitiiuL The scene had an unusual fascination in that the participants were silent as if the affair were purely a matter of business. It }>roved to be the dinner offered onee a year, in aeeord- anee with an ancient custom transmitted un- broken, l)v some rich proprietor to his dependants and the arricros of liis estate. r>.cehicl informed me that the sturdv feHows had prepared themselves for the event by an uniisualh" scant diet, as was evident by their iroinjj: throuirh their work like well oiled maehines. We fared finelv ourselves over that ])enin- sular dish — the rabbit — the animal found on the ancient coins of the countr\' and testify- in El l\)l)Oso ^3 fei :v^ » it, ^^ u himself after our own fashion, a half peasant, half Moor, had been unable to divest himself of the ways that had become the most ri.iiid parts of his nature. In such way the polka was half a cachucha, half a bolero, and the waltz smacked of the zapatera with its queer contortions of the torso, and the rhythmic beat of heels and toes. But alas, Hercncia was the most important place I had as yet come across in my Man- chegan rambles, and the most disaprreeable sign of its thrift and prosperity— the men dressed in the universal civilized orarb that I met with on all sides while foUowinir the stream of people toward the sanctuary, where 124 El Toboso was being celebrated the feast of Sant' Lago, the patron saint of Spain, '' Don Saint James, the Moorslayer, one of the most valiant Saints and Knights of the squadrons of Christ — that ever the world had and Heaven has now" (Don Quixote, Part II., Chapter LVIII.). Near the entrance of the church, on a little table covered with a napkm, was a large platter full of coins. Its keeper, an old v^ij^ .*irc»= ^^^:^ i. 12n El Toboso X jt''XJet<-». -~^— ' - - ■ lady, the traditional duenna, sunk in a low chair, and lost in the folds of her mantilla, kept fluttering her fan vigorously and at in- tervals, interrupting her constant mumbling of prayers, she turned to the next person to say, "Jesus, it's hot!" My little contribu- tion is gracefully acknowledged in that way. From the church door a company of sol- diers lined the way to the altar, resplendent with its hundreds of lighted candles shining on pictures and marble columns, and cande- 126 El Toboso labra and the profusion of gaudy paper flow- ers set in hui^e vases. The low murmur of prayers grows louder and quieter with the faint suggestion of a rhythm, that of a national tune. In a side chapel, before an old painting black with age and bright with real jewels, some silver ornaments, a gold diadem and bracelets glued on the canvas, a crowd of women on their knees form a picture a la Ribera, with beautiful oppositions of intense light and black shadows. While all heads are devoutly bowed, a single profile, straight and hard, remains erect — that of a voung girl of the pure Arab type, with the large black eyes full of flame and shadows, with full lips firmly and finely drawn and sunk in the corners. A strangely sensuous face which, in a haughty way, in the consciousness, per- haps, of superb animality, seemed to wonder what the scene before it might have to do with real life. Whv should that sin^-le fiir- ure, seemingly out of keeping with its en- vironment, appear to me the most typical one ? Perhaps because of the idiosyncrasies of my Don Quixote self and, I think, per- haps also because it was the one sincere, in- 127 ^:i . I -•^X- lU^.^*— S^^.: /p ;,•? -t ■''^?VT' / \^'*i 1^^'^ I -5 / . '; ■feff f^ij-j^'i,. V-i '•. I., ^^ i\ r\ El Toboso voluntary expression there of these Southern natures, whieh, having no deeplv religious feelings, take life after a manner eminently practical. She cast culd, disrespectful crlances toward the devout paraphernalia on the chapel walls, bringing to mind the levity with whieh in the age of the Inquisition Cervantes spoke of such things : *' These tombs in which the bodies are of these great lords, have they sil- ver lamps in front of them, or are the walls of their chapels adorned with crutches, grave clothes, periwigs, legs and eyes of wax, . . . ?" savs Sancho in Don Quixote, Part II., Chapter VIII. It is a far cry from the peasant's disregard to the liberal indiffer- ence of a great Churchman. Vet under his hood the intellectual face of Cervantes's pow- erful friend. Archbishop Sandoval, Inquisitor- General, must have worn a quizzical smile at the audaeity of that book and author he so authoritatively i)rotected — otherwise the one might have ended in an an/o da Je, and the other in a duno^con. The sky is studded with an infinitude of stars. The streets are dark but for the few lights of some stands where fruit, bread, pastry, and the omnipresent ^>-(?r/;t?;/:(;.^' (chick 1 29 Ei i oboso peas) are sold. The 1)00} )le arc or- der! \', nioviiiir r\ :. \.fi ;:■'* ''---. ^'^"^cn hi the City Hall Toiler, Alcazar dc Sau Juan. jsjaa \ o i;\ ./-'T-.' ■■.■■jn ■ , v2l : «Si ■f d/ ; 1 ■ ^,. i El Toboso Two young men strolling about the groups pause ; at a few twangs of their guitar the silent crowd presses around them. The two players face one another. One plays the accompaniment, the other, with that astonish- ing natural virtuosity which mimics real talent so well that one must know much to deteet the difference, plays the air. Their poses are characteristic — the virtuoso standing straight, his head thrown back, the accompanist with bent body resting on one foot and his eyes riveted on his partner's guitar. When the song is finished a few low claps of apprecia- tion are heard while the crowds noiselessly disperse. But in the distance a louder, sensuous voice sincfs a Malao-itcna, which the wild expressive twangs of the guitar punctuate. There is fury in the accompaniment, passion in the voice, and this reveals another side of these peo])le's natures — the smouldering fire under the ashes. As we come out of the pueblo in the early morning a street merchant is already at work near the market-j)lace, offering his stock of goods at auction to the country folks, the pilgrims, who arc getting ready 133 i^T"*^ «««^l^3 El Toboso to return home. It Is the one occasion for most of those who come to town but once a twelvemonth, on such a feast day, to make their necessary purchases for the whole year. And this peculiar demand has brought out a class of " drummers," whose life is spent in moving over the country, from fiesta to file st a. Reaching the high\va\^ outside the town, theie goes before us a troop of chattering pilgrims, solid little women bedizened with bright kerchiefs on heads and shoulders, mounted a-to}) of the loads on their little donkevs. The dust clouds, <^loritied bv the rising sun, make a halo about the gay ])icture full of movement. We pass them, look back, and lo I the charm has vanished. The cavalcade is as commonplace as possible. It was the sun alone which made the i)retty picture. As we now turn to look at the receding town, its silhouette clear on the tawny cur- tain of the Sierras l)ehind, it takes the be- witching appearance of a fresh and damty vision in white garb, softened and beautified bv the tender liiiht of the morninii:. In re- gard to beauty, Spain is the democratic land 134 N^:- ^^ .^.^^^S,^' One : — '^' - -'-;'^;^- --i<>r" h J> ^'-^f. -r!rT-'-"--/ __...•—::_-..-• HA^ft.-.-- • ^' C\>J/iv'^s^:rS?P7^--^^: V stream of hreworks— tiny blue flowers, which a^'-ainst the neutral background of parched J J ' I 13: hi Vi Kl Toboso grass and pierced by the slanting rays of the sun, are transfigured into radiant jewels. All too soon do we come to Alcazar de San Juan, a town of some commercial im- portance since the railroad branch to \^alen- cia joins here the main road from Madrid to Seville. Alcazar naturally boasts of its station with its '' biiff'ct.'' But far from mc is the desire to eat from a tabic covered with a table-cloth bearing- the evidences of much service, Spanish imitations of English steaks, or to drink so-called Bordeaux wine from a ^lass, mstead of black, rouuh \ al A^«(»f>'«in'^^ El Toboso fashioninor orarments for the master's help. A hufToon's sole occupation is to sweep the Hoor, while a collea^crue o;oes after him sprinklinor it the whole day loner. The bio- fat ama, with a face like a Roman senator, strides all over the place, kcepin^o; a watchful eye on details, and ^^rivinor imperative orders in a voice which sounds like a clarion blast. The amo. with bunch of kevs dano-lino- from nis belt, sees to the filllnor of wlne-l)ottles, to the killinor of poultry, to the cuttlnir of meat. The cooks — at work under our eyes — are two 142 El Toboso old witches, who alternately disappear and reappear in the smoke of the wood lire. The aina, who, in spite of her bulk, is here, there, everywhere at once, comes up behind them, often unexpectedly snatching stew- pans, tasting the food, adding ingredients, and upbraiding the witches in the grandest style, with that magnificent organ aforemen- tioned. However, the real ruler of this >;/. da a|)pcars to be a spoiled little boy, hardly three years okl, precocious and saucv — the Benjamin of the large family. He keeps -J HP I 143 ,s'.*iia^>^ ~«*i3«^*'. ■■^m'mi&x^^^^* •^ ^ -.^■v^iv-Miy 5-".''.'.' •" • ■"*»<»*. '■^i MB^f ^ r^ ^-.\ > ^?f^.^,--,;;J ^. / .•^ ;?'5^* s^tfe- ;t^-^- ' --^•' ! 5^5^ .' t.\ KS KEiV« -J^-!^ :^< -<-/v <. —:= M ^ ^ El Toboso his special criada busy — a handsome young woman, in orange skirt, red stockings, and black shoes (oh, luxury !), who looks the picture of helplessness, when, blushing pret- tily, she casts frightened glances toward the ania at every fresh evidence of the little rogue's mischievous spirit. Alcazar de San Juan and its fo7ida hav- ing passed out of sight were nothing more to me than one of the souvenirs of my jour- ney added to the others — a sharp negative, indelibly preserved in the camera of my l)rain — when we caught sight of the wind- mills of the Campo de Crijitano, one of which, it is said, our knight met with in his celebrated adventure. Poor Quixote does not seem so mad after all when one first sees this row of mills set irregularly on the crest of a hill and looking like nothing one has ever seen, more like a collection of queer» |)rimitive toys stuck there by the weird ca- ])rice of a lunatic. As one approaches and views them one by one, these clumsy-looking affairs, propped up like very aged persons, are thoroughly fantastic. No wonder the worthy knight mistook them for giants! On his native soil Cervantes's book takes an 145 11 loboso %rf~ '^^^ •^' -••3 added pungency. How much it is of the country, how true to life are the characters, descriptions and language, one needs to live here among the people to know. There is a great charm in stumbhng at all instants on thinors it has made familiar to us. For ex- ample, not only do the inhabitants of certain villa r- >^x'' »... s. „c^-- what was it not ? with its indescribable dingi- ness, filth, and Hies, is a place not to be de- 151 ' rilf- A Glimpse of the Big Clunrh, Tohoso. El Tohoso scribed. But there we had to rest under the slanting, low roof with its roughly hewed beams, cobwebbcd all over. In choosing our place we pass by or walk over muleteers, pedlers, swine-herds, stretched on the bare tioor. On the walls harnesses and sombreros are hanirinir on nails, in the corners are sacks of grain, packages, wine-skins belonging to the sleepers, and guarded by little curs that snarl silently when one gets too near, and would bark and bite at the slightest attempt to touch their masters' property. In the weird light — a half-light — what a fine picture this interior makes ! Two stables are near us — one for the mules, the other for the pigs. These last are grunting, the mules kick, and lean cats, prowling about in their search for food, mew. A mule chased from the stable picks her way quickly among the snoring sleepers, not one of whom moves, while her master, trudging behind with the harness, urges her on with a peculiar noisy shout ending in a hiss. No interruptions wake these sleepers whose slumbers are deep when chance favors them in the twenty-four hours — four-fifths of which are spent in labor. Resting until the last minute, they are up and 153 \ i A ■^^^i:^. -,'~.f^", -f^-'-'^^l^ -^" -^ ^t?*"- El Toboso at work in an instant. There is no stretching: of the limbs, no washing to be gone through, no clothes to put on. A drink of water and they are behind their mules under the broil- ing sun, the crooked stick in their hands, wide awake and singing. We start at three in the afternoon, har- nessing the mule in the midst of a drove of pigs — a hundred or more — the village pigs, which are being gathered together to go to the fields under the guardianship of boys. After following a beautiful road for a league or more and passing the sanctuary on the hill where reposes the niiracuk^us image of the patron saint of the Campo, " Our Lady of Crijitano," we strike across wheat-fields and in a couple of hours reach the barren country, sparsely dotted with cltisters of trees, where Don Quixote met with one of his most pitiful adventures, the first sight of his lady Dulcinca chanired by nialctic enchant- ment into a coarse peasant wench. Quite melancholy are the approaches of Toboso, whose few houses, built largely of sculptured fragments of ancient important structures, plainly tell the decadence of the renowned and prosperous city which accord- 154 % k 'K 1-^1 -J. ' '-A' •■' ' ^U ^i^ > Ciiardias CiviUs Alakin^ uji Iti^'iStii^ation at Toboso. El Toboso ing to an official report had nine hundred houses in the reign of Philip II. There is nevertheless a winning charm, a sort of dig- nity to the place like that of a deserving un- fortunate who preserves some gentlemanly demeanor. Its dilapidated houses, strewn around two stern, forbidding-looking churches, appeared, in spite of their scars, clean and well kept. Its ravine-like lanes were free from the nox- ious sights which had grown so familiar to me as inseparable adjuncts of Manchegan streets. In Toboso I also found that exotic wonder an exquisitely clean posada. It was late when we saw it, and I hardly dared trust my first impression, but it stood the test of a detailed survey in the full light of the next day. Imagine Dutch cleanliness in La Mancha ; floors of court-yards and rooms shining, barren of dust, curtains at the little windows, mats at the doors, and in appropriate places on the white walls pathetic attempts at decoration in the shape of religious prints set in colored paper frames ! Pieces of furniture, chairs, chests, and tables, curiously carved, and the array of brass 156 El Toboso ■^S^'--^^-*^ ' *l''r^.^- >-^ - ■'If Ff^" bowls, spoons, and ladles of quaint and rough design in the kitchen were beautifully pol- ished. But there were no servants in this poor inn. The family — father, mother, and two daughters — kept the place in order. The women were dignified and kindly, and as thev went about their work in the house an atmosphere of gentility hovered around 157 El Toboso them. Their simple manners, devoid neither of repose nor of grace, were pleasant to watch. And then looking; clean and neat they made me feel less far from home. The father, a six-foot man of about fiftv, with huge frame, big shoulders, clean face, and a peculiarly low forehead, spent his time alternately in giving orders and praying. On our arrival we found the family finishing supper, and before our inquiries were an- swered the four creatures stood with heads bowled low down on the table, chanting an interminable litany, and kept us waiting un- til the long ordeal was at an end. As soon as we could make our wishes known the women, excited and fluttered at the advent of guests, disappeared to go and prepare our supper, when the father straightway started on his hobby — religion. He was a fanatic, with the fierce intolerance which is usually considered by foreigners one of the stroncr traits of the Spaniards. I must say that, un- til now, I had seen nothing of intolerance among the Manchegans ; but this man more than made up for it. Don Quixote discus- sing chivalry was no more enthusiastic, not a whit less hare-brained than this giant inn- 158 El Toboso keeper when inveighing against the bad ways of the present generation, against its indif- ference to church attendance, its non-observ- ance of religious practices — in short, its lack of wiiat was formerly termed the religious spirit in Spain. He would illustrate his ideas by quotations from theological books, cross himself when pronouncing the name of God or the saints, and he would occasional- ly break in upon his reasonings to ask us our Mm ^ri "iT.-r ■^" . •» opinions of some prayers to be used on special occasions of temptation and illness which he had selected from the old manuals 159 ".'.Wpf%;^ 5 "_:- V ').':-m ■A --— « , st-^^. jT^'^^ \-\< /a' f^ic' P(^^(!i/ti\'^ CourfvarJ, Toboso, El Toboso of pietv. This wcmIcI was crolnrr the wav of the tempter, was the burden of his song, and he pointed to the faet that in the hist eentury ever}^ other house in Toboso was a ehurch, a private ehapel, or a eonvent, while the Government having taken away lands and fields and eonvents from monks and sisters, there were hardlv any monks or sisters left, and only two churches. lie remembered how beautiful were the holy services he used to attend in his youth, with the magnificent tapestries, gold and silver vases, and rich ornaments which made the altars like visions of paradise. " .Vll these riches had to be sold, little l)y little, and thus the ehurch was now bereft of her power for Uooil. Kzeehiel's opinion of our host was ex- pressed liguratively in a Sancho-like fashion, made more contemptuous by a shrug of the shoulders : " Well, senor, he talks, like a linnet, out of a mighty small head." A sad lot was that of the women of the house with such a master. He meant well, of course, but his was an iron will, and everv- onc must agree with the s])irit of his doctrine as well as with his minute observances. Thus i6i I'liiiii^iiiMi- El Toboso Maria and J nan a, the daughter^, in passing before eacii sainil)' image — each ])ra\cr cul from the pao^es of ancient missals, adornino: the walls all over the house, in their little frames ingeniousl}' fashioned of straw and i^ilt {)a})er — had to 1)0W and stop, audibh' re- citing a pious ejaculation. While in the midst of their work, the hands of the giant would beckon, and business had to be in- stantly abandoned for the recitation of some special prayer for the deliverance of slaves or the conversion of the faithless. Guests were less fortunate than the cat and do^r, the onh* inmates enjoying full liberty in the house. There was no escape possible from the tvran- nical ways of this sinirular ann\ who, caring- little about the thino-s of this world, would let his guests starve or go awav without paying if only he could improve the op|)or- tunity to make them religious after his own heart. That was the reason for the lack of patron- age of this otherwise admirable place. When in the cveninof seated outdoors and hcarinof songs of merriment in the neighborhood, we wondered what was o-oingr on, "It is from the other posada," said the anio. "May 162 IK ^liCf e Maria. El Tol)oso God burn it to the ground, for devil-pos- sessed people run it and idolaters alone fre- quent it." Of the rough and brutal character, pro- verbial in Ccrvantes's time, of the inhabitants of Toboso, Morisco refugees from Granada, who had not had time to outlive the rude, fierce traits of their Arab aneestors, I saw no trace. But the sole industry of the town now as then is the manufacture of large jars, ihiajas, made of the tufous earth which abounds in the locality and the Tobosan tlna- jas with their graceful swelling lines and curves are still renowned in the Castilcs. The principal church is the same one Cervan- tes described, and the blind alley where the roguish squire insisted that the princely castle of the fair damsel was, still exists. I could not miss the opportunity of walking wide awake into the romancer's dream, "while the village was wrapt in silence, for all the inhab- itants were asleep — reposing at full stretch — as they say," and with Don Quixote and Sancho pass in the shadow cast by the " great pile " and, looking at the belfry tower, re- mark with Sancho that the pile was a church and not a palace. The scene was just like 104 El Toboso that of the book. " No sound was heard but the barking of dogs which stunned Don Quixote's ears and troubled Sancho's heart. Now and then a jackass brayed, pigs grunt- ed, and cats mewed, whose voices of various sound were heightened in the silence of the niirht." 16= El Toboso We start at midnight on our return jour- ney to Argamasilla, passing the Campo de .'^ ^S- Crijitano before daybreak and ^oing down the slopes to the meadows of the Guadi- ana, and cross the riv^er on a bridge whose length show^s w^hat mighty proportions this puny stream is wont to assume during the rainy season. Toward noon we come to a qiiifiteria (large farm) and Ezcchiel goes 166 u«^;"-"- "^^'j^ r_ }- Jita/ia. El Toboso in to ask permission to enter, a privilege never refused but which must be asked for and orranted, like everythinor else in this country, with the elaborately polite formulas sanctioned by custom. Our cart enters the square spacious courtyard, with low build- ings on two sides and walls on the others. We find a hearty welcome in the kitchen, where eight field-laborers, with the inevitable loner blades in their hands, are sittin^r on low stools energetically discussing the contents of a big soup-pot, the national pitchcro. The cook, a bashful young woman, who blushes prettilv on the slightest provocation, makes a good contrast to these dark-skinned, mus- cular men, who, teasing one another in a good-natured way, seem to have the best time in the world. At the entrance -door a band of famished cats and dogs, too well trained to dare to approach, look on with fkaming eyes, uttering half-suppressed whines. Everyone treats us with extreme courtesy and kindness, and I doubt if in any other country the stranger could find such manners and such tact amonof a set of low laborers like this. After lunch I was shown into a little whitewashed room, dark and cool, I OS i \ i I A X£k ■:■■ - K'^. . ■<' / \ ' - t-:.^i^^ ^ '"7 "S ^^ ' - V § I ■v ' -v. "" * * 'TW** t" 'P "" ' "** ' El Toboso where over a stone beneh a eoueh of mats had been arranged, and I was left alone for a mueh-needed bit of siesta. As it was harvest -time the place was lively, but most of the year the ursrro (farm- er, or rather guardian of the farm) is alone with the dogs and his Winchester, and the large gates being closed, the ^/////Aw;? he- eomes a fortress. The arsero then does patrol-duty to prevent damage to the helds and possible raids against the stores of grain. provisions, and wine. In lonely places such as these, cascros have an exciting life, and few of them are there wlio reach an old age. This one thinks the game worth the candle. '' It is a tine life, sir," he tells me. wiiih- ca- ressing his Winchester; "plenty to eat and drink, some money besides, and then a ehancc to use one's Sfun." Atter the siesta we resume our journey over the familiar plain, where, far away be- fore us, our goal appears as a faint mirage. Arganiasillu impresses one diffcrciith' as one approaches it from some new direction. Xo\r it looks like an Oriental city, w iili us brilliant white walls set at the enrl of an ahnneda, a kjug oasis of grand ])oplars with 170 ' ^•4 m > U3'i 111 < 1 * Cj ■Si Hi lubu^u an undcr^ruwth uf fio" and Icinuii trees. The whole picture has llie color of the Orient, the same sky, the same warm pur})le liaze over the horizon, and the plain is as Hat and tawny as the desert ; tlie j)o|)lars alone tue out of place, and pahii-trees arc lacking" to make the likeness complete. VI The Morena 172 The Morena ??*-'^5=5-i=. ^.mfe m — — — . -f'.rt'^A'i*^^^' T -'Si-- r?' • "^ ■* ■* • ■ \ y:^R 1'>^ H E trip to the Sierra Morena was my sole infidelity to Ezechiel. On the eve of departure from Artjamasilla we had an interview that is likelv to remain one of my rarest recolleetions. It was mv last dinner at the Posada del Carmen, where, as the honored guest, Ezechiel behaved with his usual diixnitv and taet, his gentle voiee adding charm to his words. The meal over, we walked across the wav to the one shoj) of tlic ]>lace, whose meagre stock of cotton goods was displayed in a low room no larger than six In* ten feel, ihiit, ill oi-dcr to settle iiiv accounts with liiui, 1 might get change for a Spanish hank-note. I counted the numl)er of ^(vrj'os, each one of whicli was the equivalent of a dav of his ser- viccs and those of his conveyance, and gave 175 llic Morena them to him with the adcHtion of an extra compensation. The good man counted the pieces carefully again and again, looked puzzled, anel hnally called mv attention to the mistake made in giving him more than his due. Whereupon explaining that it was intentional and that I wished I could make it more, 1 asked him to accept the little gift as a small acknowl- edg-ment of his loyal services. He con- tinued to look embarrassed, but fmally thanked me for my kindness and went awav. An hour after, he returned with the extra compensation. "No, Senor," he said, ''I can't take this. We made our price. It was more than I usually get, and as this job was an easv one, I am the gainer. We stand quits, and I could not think well of m\'self nor would you think as kindly of me if I were to take vour ^xii^ " But, man, I consider vou have earned it by the money you saved me in your pur- chases at the posadas." "That was the bargain, Senor. Xo. }-ou must take this back. Let me shake hands with vou as with a friend, and God be with vou and vours." 176 \ The Morena *2*rS;.— r'^^s^j,-^;^," :, ■-.e-' ^:^^'^^ .'■r^'-^ .... I deplored the necessity which deprived me of his faithful attendance, but his little mule could not have made the long, arduous journey to and from the Morena without taking much more time than I had at my dis|)osal. There are such incidents in one's liap])iest experiences, and this loss of lize- chiel's companionship I could not help feel- ing keenly as the premonition of the hum- drum davs of civilized routine that were to follow my last excursion into La Mancha. It was unreasonable, of course, for journevs like these derive their interest from the con- trast they make to one's ordinary manner of life. I had no other course l)ut to go by rail into the very heart of the mountains, and J / ]t. A f orena therein- make what I thouoiu would |)rn\c a prosaic and liardh' })k-asaiii I'c^'iniiing. But the train crept ahjng so sluwh' and made so long a stop at every little settlement that the novel experience of l)eini^ al)le to exam- ine at leisure all details of the landsca])e proved rather enjoyable. "Fwas not in the least like the car-travelling we are accustomed to, but rather like the progress of a mule or a horse going at a brisk pace. At first the flat eountry had the familiar parched and dreary look, then, as we went along, the vineyards invaded it and soon hlled the plain in an unbroken mass as far as the eye could reach. We passed through the most famous wine- producing district in Spain. The prosperous town which gives it its name Valdcpenas (Valley of Stones) had, in spite of its com- mercial importance, the same tiled -roof houses scattered around a big church, which are so characteristic of Manchegan villages. It had an unexpected contrast in the shai)e of some spick and span modern - looking bodegas (distiUcrics and wine emporiums) with their names printed in black letters three feet high on their dazzlino- white walls. 173 Th(^ Morena I sufTcrrd from the incongruity of seeing this blatant signature of our civilization in bo primitive a place, and found it particulai'lv disagreeable to be so bluntly reminded of home. Everywhere from the Manehegan plains the serrated outline on the southern horizon serves as a weather bureau. It is the Mo- rena. We had been approaching it graduall}', though it seemed always out of reach. After leaving the Valdcpenas region the character of the country changed, becoming more and more denuded and rocky, and the denticu- lated Sierra Morena 1 had become familiar with was lost to sight. ^^^C^THi;-^ -«" \ 179 ^^•7^'-^ The Morena Having left behind the yellow and purple immensity of the plain, fading away like a hazy sea, we found ourselves, on aseending the tirst high spur, eneireled by mountains. Our path became steeper, roeky slopes being piled one upon another until, after a succes- sion of curves and steep grades, the train stopped and panted for breath at the station of Almuradiel. Alighting with my scant luggage tied to a crooked staff, I happened by lucky accident on old Jose and his antediluvian mule and cart, rigged together with broken harness and pieces of rope, rotten from long service. Without waste of words a l)ar2:ain was made and off we went toward the villaore of Viso del Marques, the most convenient head- quarters for an exploration of the mountain- ous recesses, where some of the strangest and most wonderful adventures befell our friends of the Book. What a delight it was to be on such an errand bent in these weird and bleak sur- roundings of romance, with the sun shining fiercely and a cold wind blowing: half a 2:ale, while fingering, so to speak, the interestincr book of Jose's wisdom by means of leading 1 80 The Morena ^v lit-P ^- W-- ^^ ^i-- .\N upon the public square, remained. Perform- ances were given whenever an audience col- lected, attracted by the inducements vocifer- ously shouted in a hoarse, husky voice by IQI The Morena M ■1 i' ■v. "V <3 ^ the fellow who assumed the manifold duties of manager, aetor, and, if not playwriirht, at least, adapter of play^. After the traditional eustom, eaeh pieee opened with a prologue and ended with a string of jests and apologies to the audienee ; eaeh personage coming or o-oinir without the slis^htest regard to the un- folding of the story, its possibilities, or lim- itations of time. Theatre and performances can, in fact, be well described in the words of Cervantes, speaking of the dramatist Lope de Ivueda : '' Tn the time of this celebrated Spaniard," savs Cervantes, '^ the whole ai)paratus of a numager was contniiu'd in a large sack, iind consisted of four white shepherd's jackets, turned up witli k'athcr, gilt and stamped ; four beards and false sets of hanging locks, and four shepherd's crooks, more or less. 'Hie i)la\s were colkxiuies, like eclugues, be- tween two or three she|)herds and a shep- iicrdess, httcd up and extended witii two or three interlude^, whose personages were sometimes a ncirress, sometimes a l)ully, sometimes a fool, and sometimes a Biscayan ; for all these foiu- parts, and manv others, Lope himself performed with the greatest T93 _'% 1 lie Mui tua excellence and skill that ean be iniagmcJ. . . . The tlieatre was composed of ft air l)eiiehes, arranged in a s(]uarc, will] live or six boards laid across thcrn, that were thus raised about four palms {roin the irroimd The furniture ui lliu theatre \va^ an old l)lanket, drawn aside l)\' two eoitjs, mak- in^ what they eall the t irino-ruoin, Lnlnnd whieli were the musicians, who sano- old hal- lads without a ^iruitar." Pcfformances, then as now, occurred when- ever an atuiience could he gathered, appar- ently both forenoon, afternoon, and ex cu- ing, for at the end of one of his [)la\s Lope invites Ins '' hearers onlv to cat their dinners and return to the square and witness an- other." The most useful personage a|)peared to me to be the fool, who happened in at unexpected moments, usually when the at- tention of the audience waned, and was kicked and abused with bad words and blows for his stupid simplicity. The specta- tors were silent, lauorhingr rarely, and looking upon the antics of the buffoon with extreme seriousness. El Vise has a post of the Guardia Civile. The district being in large part impractica- 194 The Morena bie for horses, these men radiating from head- quarters here haxf to cover on foot some fiftccdi miles as tlie crow Hies, in every di- rection. This profession is not a sinecure m the Morena. Guardias, alternatmg night with (Idv work, are on patrol duty sixteen oiii of the iweniy-lour hours, the remaining l)eing de\()tcd to their families (all being married as a rule) and to needful rest. Thev art' under ati effective svstem which controls their movements even in remote and deserted places, and going always in pairs, are never sent twice in succession on the same route. All they receive for their V.c^^ ^■-•^ ^■^^ »' >1 services is less than thirty cents of our money per day, out of which they pay for their clothes, food, lodging, etc. I had presented my request for the neces- 195 The Morcna The Morcna sary escort, without which it would not have been safe to make the excursion I had planned, and the morning after the festivities started at a brisk pace between two young Guardlas, with Winchesters on their shoul- ders, who walked with the short Spanish mili- tary Step, pretty but ineffective and grotescjue compared with the long, swinging motion, bending low the knees, of the Swiss moun- '' , V^\. It •<^. talneers. The Guardias' tight uniforms of heavy, dark cloth (alike in summer and winter) made them look clumsy and stiff as dressed -up doll soldiers, their heavily iq6 ?:^;^n-': \li.V, .Jt'^^/^'ii^^y^ ^ — -r" i, >A. — =- . > fringed black eyes and long twisted mus- tachios adding an element of make-believe fierceness such as one expects nowhere but in stageland. We went up a slope, which, ending abruptly a short distance above, seemed to be sur- mounted by a sober mass of deep purple, the chain of summits forming the dorsal fin of the Sierras. After that first impression we found our- selves going down and across desert ridges and spurs whose monotonous, tawny hide made the most effective of foregrounds to the great serrated mountains unveiled now 197 11 I -r 1 he Morcna from base to summit, their shapes and scars blended into an harmonious medley of lu- minous colors— stepping-stones to the inex- pressible radiance of the unbroken, deep azure above. Our path went meandering downward over the sharp, live rock which cut into one's sliocs, and as we advanced the rugged deso- lation of our surroundings made the airy and transparent curtain of the Sierras, growing in height before us, seem a mirage. It was the right time to call to mind the passage where Cervantes describes the kni<^ht's feelini^s in such a place as this : *^And as they entred in farther among those mountaines, we cannot recount the jov of our Knight, to whom those places seemed most accommodate to atchieve the advent- ures he searched for. They reduced to his memory the marvellous accidents that had bcfalne Knights Errant in like solitudes and desarts : and he rode so overwhelmed and transported by these thoughts, as he rememl)red nothing else. Nor Sancho had any other care (after he was out of feare to be taken) but how to fill his belly with some of these rclikes which yet remained of the 199 ^1 The Morcna Clerical! spoyles ; and so hee followed his lord, taking- now and then out of a basket (which Rozinante carried for want of the Asse) some meat, linincr therewithal! Iiis paunch ; and whilst he went thus imployed, he would not have given a mite to encoun- ter any other adventure how honouraI)le so- ever." (Part I, Chapter XXIIL, Thomas SlIKI/rox's TRAXSLATIOX.) Lil>:e Sancho, our companions and guests Dona Teresa, her husband, and her little maid -servant, who were following us in Jose's cart, whiled the time awav Ijy eatincr greased /H7?lnc/os'' and drinldng' the powei- fu! \^aldepenas— a combination which made them superl)!y oblivious to jolting and heat. And ever and anon, the ii'repressil)le flow of their high spirits !)urst forth into CXtemi)0- raneousand hurriedly recited litanies, ending in long, piercing notes, and celel)rating the giver of the feast, the l)eauty of the dav, and the joy of their hearts. One loses all sense of direction in these chaotic wastes, peopled only by flocks of * A fried pasty without any filling, which is the dainty break- tast dish in well-to-do families of Southern Spain and among the Moors of Northern Africa. 200 The Morena '1 -.■:•■ '*^' -.^^vn^s^ -X *, >, ■ "^%>^ .e^ W ■ *V «-•«. r ■!*.■-. V.-. \^ *^. V-^\ hills pressing around and filling the horizon on three sides with strange and varied forms. The heat is stifling in these closed gulleys, and it was only when our descent suddenly ceased and we becran to ascend that one could breathe comfortably. Leafage ap- peared over the last hill and we soon reached our goal, a garden of luxuriant vegetation, topped with cork, chestnut, and oak trees, brought to life by a boisterous little stream of exquisitely pure water. We paid our respects to two elderly gentlewomen, sisters of a dead canon, and 201 ^mm**m The Morcna drank slowly at the spring situated before the door of their stone eottage, their hired men eoming and remaining to silently craze upon US till we resumed our mareh. Following the stream through the gar- dens, erossing and recrossing it, jump'^ng over mud walls, stooping low under pear- and apple-trees, we came at last upon a family of children taking a bath under the watch- ful eyes of the mother. A little naked bov, frightened at our appearance, burst out cry- ing and ealHncr "Mamma," while his little gni com])anions laughed at him and at us. The contents of the cart were unloaded in a seciudccl spot on the edge of the oasis. The members of our i)arty set ahout busily gettin.o- wood and water, and ])uttino- wine and vegetables to cool in a deep pool. When the lire was lit, if someone wandered awav, It was onlv for a moment, soon returning; to resume his patient watch before the fryTncr. pan, over which Dona Teresa presided.' iC thetic spectacle-this faseination food exerts over these people, for it means simply that they have not often a chance to do full jus- tice to their appetites. They are like the Arabs, who, living on the most frugal and ^55v }^ Ofi the Road to Los Molinos. ul 10'. .«J6** "|jg«jiffi*i|.Wife^3^_, The iVIorena scantv diet, whenever opportunity offers, have their rcvcnjrc and gorcre themselves to the verge of stU{)or. We had a jolly time discussinor the elabo- rate repast, Teresa's tlow of unexpected sallies imkmr the eyes of the Guardias bulcre out comically, and interfering with the attention they gave to the business of filling up. ''Take care, honey, wine makes the whisk- ers grow and the beaux fly," she remarked to the girl-servant about to take wine, and who 4, J. .w^ '.:?■• protested that she was not eovetous, and did not care a wild fig for any beaux. Teresa quoted: '' He that lies most will sin most" 204 The Morena {Qjiicn mas iJiicjife. mcdva mas), an old proverb which was chosen by Qucvcdo as the title of one of his plays; and winked at her husband, " in faith she'll have dozens of them. I keep my eye on her, but what's the good, ^ my mother beats me and I whip the toys {Castigamc mi madrc y yo tj-ompooclas), one of Ouevedo's proverbs which, applied here, means I chastise her but she continues to play her game. To which the child an- swered, sotto-voce, " It's not my fault, anv- how. ' A^o con quicn naccs sino con (juieu paces: Not with whom thou art bred but with whom thou art fed." The eatables disposed of, the wine-skins empty, even the gallon of salad mixture- equal parts of vinegar and water in which tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions had swum —drunk and relished, the only possible out- come of this gastronomic debauchery in such a place was the immediate siesta in which all indulged. On waking I saw my companions strewn about sound asleep in the shade, their arms under their flushed cheeks. Near the cart the gaunt old mule was munching her fodder, her ribbed anatomy brought out by light and 205 ..'/-■ ^'^ "-* "^N^*- r^,:^5= _^ H ->■-; ^ ^ Oj/ the Koad (o Los Mo linos. The Morcna shadow. At the foot of the meadow the lit- tle scrvant-irirl hummed softly to herself. Bud of a potential cocjuctte she was re- hearsing her artful feminine trieks, tiltnig her head, makinp; a pretenee to eourtesv, and essaying some partieularly fetehing danee hg- ure. A grove of tall chestnuts and pines on the edge of the meadow encircled the S(iuare stone basin where the precious benefactor of the irardcns had its source. From its bottom of sand and pebbles there rose through the clear crystal continuous strings of bubbles. iMsh swam in and out of the moss which clothed the stone and floated on the surface of the water, and dragon-tlies and swallows, darling in rapid zigzags, snatched a tmy drink. The deep silence was broken by the spas- moihc, harmonious tinkling of the mule-bells and the far-away trill of a solitary song-bird. The wind, crathering strength as it approached, like waves cralloping to the shore, came in recurrent gusts with long rustlings agitatmg the tree-tops. Between the tree-trunks, ap- parently near enough to touch, our big neigh- bors, the enormous cliffs, blazed in the flam- 207 1 iu' Alor ena '..-'• '\i^--~"rr:.:>mm. ■■■•■I '■ ■y ;. 1 II IE?, boyant liu-lu which a-vralr,i iht' Mraii-rlr colored veins running throuoh t he i, iMva|,i- tous declivities, and all their wealth of pict- uresque and rngoed heautv. In a like place the knitrht performed his self-imposed pen- ance "at the foot of a lofl\- mountain " al,,no- the skirt of which ran "ao-entic streamlet" encrelinu "ag^reen and luxuriant meadow" It^ may be the very si)ot Ccr\-antes had in mmd, although the consensus of learned opin- ion has placed it a few leagues farther cast. Ihe impression made by this happv and peaceful little world, with its runnin-.......,,., ^ , ... ., ^^. o ni the uurA Inrlndiling sccaciy, wa^ iila^ tiiat ui an nasi- in liic limitlc-^ sanclN of ific Sahara. W'c started late for I-J X'i.^o. The sun was burninor, yet long before reachino- tlie hos|)itable Casa Teresa we wra])])ecl our- selves in overeoats and blankets, the transi- tion at sunset being so abrupt from heat to cold. 1 went to Los Molinos alone with my couple of Guardias, it being far too hard an cxeursion for the Senora and her husl)and— takmg one as it did into "the verv bow- els of the mountain," in the midst of sueh wnld scenery as Cervantes described in those chapters wherein are recounted the knicrht's adventures with the Tattered One, Car- denio. This deserted, trackless maze of rough hills and valleys, inaccessible except to men who know^ the ground well, was in old days the refuge of those who sought eseape from jus- tice and from the Inquisition, and until the last generation they were the haunts of bands of brigands, whose bloody exploits remaining Vividly impressed upon the popular imagina- :io The Morena tioii, are still i.ai liu: lips of men, u-ouien. aiul childrtai in the region. It took us fourteen hours of the hardest walking to get to the mill, which, in si)ite of the dangerous path conneeting it with the rest of the world, is not altogether abandoned. Water-power is searee, fuel too expensive, and so with serious risks of losing mules or sacks of hour on the way, this mill, whose tine water-power can turn out flour cheaply, is perforce patronized by the poorer folks alone, and kept going a few months of the year. Not onlv is the way dangerous for beasts, but it is not without perils for the pedestrian. The shinv, smooth rock or the loose, broken stones on the steep descents oiTering an equally uncertain footing, may easily be the means of landing him at the bottom of a precipice. The path is staked out with heaps of stones, perpetuating the memory of such accidents, and to each of these, follow- ing the custom, w^e religiously added a stone in passing. This custom is still enforced nowadays in Sicily and in the whole of Northern Africa. But the scenery was grand in the ex- 211 .^-«.«' V ' The Morena treme. Titanic crag^s alternated with ii^roves of robust myrtles and lentisks, w^ith slopes where the trailing arbutus and laurels grew in profusion above carpets of daisies and carnations in the valleys whose air was pungent with penetrating aromas. We found out the truth of the proverb (?io hay atajo sin trabajo) ''there is no short cut without hard work " in the last part of the journey, which we made jumping from boulder to boulder, after the fashion of Car- denio, the One Crazed by Love. It was the only way to reach our destination quickly, and as safe a one as the mule-path. Set at the bottom of a narrow pit, sur- rounded on all sides with almost perpendicu- lar giant walls that seemed about to crush it, was the mill, the most forlorn, miserable place I had as yet seen. Untenanted at the time, it stared at us from its windowdess apertures like a corpse from eyeless sockets. Behind its rotten door we found, tenanted by bats and rats, a dirty room w^hose vast, musty emptiness, framed by tottering w^alls, pro- duced a tragic and forlorn impression. There was no relief in anything. All was abjectly sordid— hopeless. The water was icy cold 212 The Morena and so was the night. We built a lire in the middle of the Hoor and slept by it, each one of us keeping watch in turn. When 1 arrived at El Viso the next night, thoroughly exhausted, I felt as if 1 had been throutrh one of the circles of the Inferno. .1 I \ 2T3 I I >J VII Venta de Cardenas KlfiX^A' -^^ Venta de Cardenas I LEFT Viso with Jose and his cart and two Guardias in the middle of one of those starry nights when the atmosphere Is diaphanous and a warm wind, velvety and caressing, makes travelling an unadulterated pleasure, even if the prospects for the com- ing day are fraught with the probabilities of a thunder-storm. After a league or more I found myself on the same Royal Highway connecting Madrid with Seville that had led me formerly toward Toboso. We followed it southward where the divers groups of the Sierra summits were distributed about us in an architectural con- fusion full of striking character that changed alluringly with the direction, the ascents and descents of the road. A few ruins alone remain to tell of the ancient prosperity and busy life of this great thoroughfare, whose solid construction still defies the elements. We called for a cup of coffee at the ruins of a Venta where, in the 217 Venta dc Cardenas two rooms still intact lived a young couple, the man surly, the woman with the look of a beaten hound, both with manners strangely constrained that made us silent and uncom- fortable. The Guardias explained, when we were on our way again, how the husband was jealous of his wife, and that was why they lived in such a wilderness, miles away from any human beina'. o At the lowest point of a long descent the road turned abruptly to the right, crossing a bridge thrown over a rapid torrent. Fac- ing the bridge and tumbling down hill was an avalanche of gigantic bowlders, the road turnmg from them straight down and follow- ing the other side of the torrent, which it re- crossed at another bridge a hundred yards below. These bowlders, commanding the road, long stretches of which were visible above and below, afford an ideal place for brigands to lie in ambush. And in this place more murders and robberies have been com- mitted than in all the rest of Spain, so my Guardias said. Until the introduction of the Kemington and Martini-Henrv rifles, mules and loads were stolen, coaches held up and u-hen travellers refused to surrender or made 2lS Venta dc Cardenas a show of resistance they were butchered and their heads cut off and set on the parapet of the bridge to serve as a warning. On one of the summits to the right of the road, the cavern of the Paolos, head-quarters of a renowned band, was visible. The Pao- los were brothers in blood and crime whose exploits were among the choicest bogy tales with which Jose, who had seen one of the Paolos, regaled me. They were grewsome and revolting stories. Thanks mainly to the efficient work of the Guardia Civile the road is now absolutely safe from brigands, and has been for long, yet when I questioned my men as to what possible dangers there could be for me in travelling alone about here, they said that there would be none for poor people, but that some rough, ignorant chap of an ^zr- ricro who happened to cross my path might take a notion to put his steel into me on the chance of finding a peseta or something bet- ter on my person. The amusing thing about It was, that with my scanty and poor Man- chegan habiliments I had imagined myself an ideal picture of a penniless tramp. The road continued to skirt the waterway, 2T9 \"cnta dc Cardenas : ^^•;:S^-' ^""-v' \ - - v^^ — ^ I'iEK v^ which, losing its wildness, had now become a gently bubbling little river. The railroad overtaking it passed over it, and with river and railroad for constant company we kept on steadily down grade, meeting not a soul. No trains passed, and the noise of the waters was the only voice breaking the oppressive Stillness. The mountains gradually crowded upon us and towered high with their rarments of 220 Vcnta dc Cardenas ^ST^. w,. ■ ■ - ^^- woods, pierced through in places by pris- matic excrescences of rock. Our path was strewn with falling debris, constantly disin- tegrated from the rocks by the action of the elements. Rich, metallic chunks of quartz showed the wealth lying fallow in these Morena Mountains, celebrated even in the days of the Roman occupation for mines of copper, lead, antimony, and silver which have been abandoned or forgotten for centuries. 221 Venta clc Cardenas Before the lonely station of Venta de Cardenas we came upon the most miserai)le settlement of any on my travels. A half- dozen low, windowless, mud hovels, wallowed m pools of filth where pigs rooted and chick- ens waded. Repulsive specimens of human- ity, in vile rags and tatters, and dirty bevond imagining, slouched in doorways, regardinir us with stupid stares. One felt tliat any moment they might go down on all-fours and grovel with the animals from which they seemed so slightly removed. How these beings can continue so low in isSL'-^^.'f- -i^ Wm :'^^ V ^ V -I 1^ Venta dc Cardenas the human scale in a country where the land could, with labor, be made to bear de- cent returns is a puzzling question, unless one considers the answer to be the owner- ship of the mountains by rich proprietors who are keeping them as game preserves. These peasants have no resource but poaching. Too ignorant to know how to send the game they kill to the cities by rail, and unable to dispose of it in the miserable villages of the region, they simply kill in or- der to support life, and their existence, passed between eating, sleeping, and outwitting: the cramekeepers, is as primitive and degraded as that of their ancestors of the Flint X^. Beyond the station the road climbs the flanks of the ever-narrowing valley, having as protection on the side of the precii)icc a ehaplet of morituics, the stone posts set up every few yards of the way, which were so typical and ]MCturesquc a feature of old S})anish roads. These vwr/o7ies point the way to the Venta de Cardenas, situated near the entrance to the celebrated canon of De- spenaperros. It is there that the luxuriant growth of the cactus begins heralding Anda- lusia, whose verv name is music ; the land 223 h^ j«t.',1fc«i*J».t-» »'^:i*'* Venta dc Carilcnas Of castanets and llou-ers. of hcultchin- ./.ar- rcnis and dancing girls, of gitanos and tore- adors, and all sorts of folk cquallv fascinat- ing ni romance and commonplace in realitv Of Old the life of the AJorena centred about this defile of Despenaperros, literally mcanmg, " thrown-over dogs," probably si«K» . *♦■ WHkr-v / 1 V % ciipation of Grenada. It was then the true Portal of tlie South, through which passed ah tlic traffic between the capital, Seville, and Andalusia ; but in place of the anima- tion of old days, the strings of coaches and troops of loaded mules, there are, but a few times a day, the screeching whistle and rum- blino: noise of a railwav train. It is still the gate of Andalusia, but its life has vanished, and it is probably more lonely now than it 225 Vrnta dc Cardenas litiS^i^ !. n. ig A^/^V// 6'rt'Wi' at the Wnta dc Cardenas. \. \ ha'^ ^rcn at aii\^ linif since tlic Romans cr>ii- quered Ihcria. 1 lie Waita dc Cardenas, i)rccious relic uf the limes when traveliin^i^^ was done by car- riages or on foot, looks down upon the onlv new feature of the scene, its enemy, the rail- road. What a brilliant, active, well-filled life the old caravansary has had ! How many historical figures — kings and queens^ princes of the Chinch and ambassadors, captains and merchants from the Indies — have stopped within its walls, elbow to elbow with the common fray, the muleteers, and soldiers. It remains substantially as it w^as built over three centuries ago, solid, though neglected and telling its pathetic story in its old stones, enormous stables, and big gateway, large enough for two royal carriages to pass through. We had a noonday feast in the grand old place. The ania, a fine type of Maritorncs, deigned to do the cooking. (True, there were no servants.) The place had a fine air, and pigeons, and chickens, cats and swallows, filled its lofty emptiness with some sort of life. In the enormous room where \\q walked about and lay down to rest, 227 X'liuj dc Carifenas Vcnta de CnrdcMia'^ **s^• >y M%!' •;.^-. ■■^"^i^- ^-?!^-' .>^ ^> 1 i:^ij4.||^ . which is hall, dininir-room, and carriage-house combined, a hundred of our carts could have moved about easilv. When our little party sat before the low bench, over which a couple of partridges and a rabbit made a brave show side by side with the palatable salad of cucumbers and tomatoes swimmincr In a bier bowl of vinefrar and water, we all dipped our spoons demo- cratically into the dish, while cats and chick- 225 ens, troo|)ing around, begged, each after his fasliion, and not being gratified, attempted to steal. l\v() miserable fellows in scanty attire of sliirt and trousers, and those not whole, and with scarlet kerchiefs tied on their heads, cauK; in with the dehant alertness of true Bo- hemians. They did not succeed In disguising their half-rowdy, half-g\'psy looks even before cS—r i-:rA* •'••*'« ■to' ^ M ' ^ • ^ / / ■■ i : ■^ ^ \ r^.: ! / ^- t m i In a Popular Resort of Seville. \%\ HI Venta dc Cardenas left when they finished. So I gave the tore- ros a small silver coin. Judging from their surprised expression it must have been the first they had ever received in this wav. The smiles told plainly that they were not sure but there was something the matter with the giver's wits. But they took it and treasured it in many folds of a rag, and I was con- vinced that when it should leave its posses- sors it would be for more than an ordinarily full compensation. As we stood by the gateway another typi- cal group of barefooted travellers made its appearance. A woman sitting on the top of a load on a donkey's back, her husband leading, two children followinir behind. Thev belonged to the fakir fraternity, going from village to village, and fiesta to fiesta, seHing trinkets, the mother telling fortunes, the boy, the wickedest little fellow I ever saw, mak- ing a specialty of the zapatcra, the Spanish clog dance. Upon the paterfamihas, an ill- humored, villainous-looking scoundrel, our Guardias kept a close watch. Even old Jose, who had seen "everything," as he used to say, eyed him suspiciously and remarked : " He is of the kind that would cut a fellow's 232 Venta de Cardenas ^'^^Mi ■ ' 'ir'' *' • ^; ■4 1 '^ v.„.. m throat just for the fun of the thing." The bov, with an air of bravado sang a fragment of a blasphemous pctciicra : I love you more than my life, I love you more than my mother ; And even if it be a sin, I love you more than the Virgin of Carmel. " Shame ! " said one of the Guardias. '' Don't insult our Lady!" Whereupon the whole party turned and looked at us in feigned surprise. They spent two cents for the privilege of 233 .1 '^■"-* ^ ■ •.-.~4 t i ivy: A .jv ^t-^j,^.^ -^>.'',;- ■ .- ■> -^'-' .-^--*( r!%=i' *^a*l ^-^^^^ *^a. Z('.v" Or^aUL Venta de Cardenas usine the fire to cook somethino^ they had brouo:ht with them, and for the few hours' shelter for their beast and themselves. They were in vile humor, having fared badly at the fiesta of Viso, and while repacking their donkey's load they gave utterance to their eontempt for the Morenans, silly, common, ignorant folk, who would not pay to be amused nor buy good-for-nothing trinkets. However, all was to be well soon, for they were on their wav to Seville—" Paradise," they called it. Very like Parisians, these low Sevilians, who think no other town worth living in but their own, and look upon the rest of the world as l)arl)arians. In the afternoon they trooped out and away toward their beloved goal, the little girl turning somersaults and jumping for joy, the boy imitatino; the guitar accompaniment to the woman's sonir : Seville of my soul, Seville of my joy ; Who would not love to be in Seville, Even though he must sleep on its cobble-stones ? And in the distance the father's rough voice uttered loud, abominable curses at El Viso and the Morenans. 235 Venta de Cardenas hrom the \ enta to the end of the great breach of Despena])crros the Rox.il Road, narrow and ill-kept, is hewn oiu of the mountain. We leisurely followed its smooth curves and sharp turns, each one of which opened a new and impressive vista. On our riand leei })eh)w, the ,7 t DUE DATE 1 i ftB i3o ) 9/ / ■ ■ % 1 ,1 1 J _■ i ( j • 1 I jl } 1 1 1 ( f ii • 1 f ? 1 ' ^' i 201-6503 7 Printed in USA 1 \ 1 ( 1 f-.'-,'.r; r j^ 0022022066 U46Mol2 Jll v>^ so Sos«»' F£fi26 }d59 FEB 1 2 is: 3» /f i<,.j,.i>.,».. - .'.j.^"_ .;.. .J.. .*- » ■;, » .^'^^ ,.