FROM LONDON TO TOLEDO AND BACK. NO. III. FROM BAYONNE TO THE BASQUE PROVINCES, THENCE TO MADRID. On a fine autumn morning, Tuesday, October 15, having enjoyed the previous day at Biarritz, I started at 5.40 for Bilbao, the chief city of the Basque Provinces in Spain. I had twice before visited those provinces, and noticed them rather fully in my last year's reminiscences, reported in the Repository; yet I was attracted once more by the wonderful route through the Pyrenees; a desire to examine more closely the remarkable arrangements of a mountain wire-way which I had seen at work, but not close enough to understand its mode of working; and, lastly, to visit a famous limestone cavern at the summit of one of the highest mountains at Galdames, called La Cueva de Maddelena, which I had intended to inspect the year before, but had been disappointed. The railroad, constructed by English engineers, through the Pyrenees, is a magnificent line, and, as a rule, well worked. Occasionally there is a want of punctuality, but in general the traveller ought to be satisfied. The train reaches Irun in an hour and a half, and there luggage is examined. He who never attempts to smuggle will have no trouble. But Spain, under its barbarous system of so-called Protection, is infested by smuggling on every side, to the injury of the nation and the perpetuation of corruption and fraud both in officials and nonofficials. Shortly after leaving Irun you come to San Sebastian, which has quite a bright distinguished air about it from the people of Madrid coming to it for the advantage of sea-bathing. It is a sort of Spanish Brighton. Here General Evans and the British Legion landed in 1836, and rendered for two years the greatest service to the Spanish Government in its war with the Don Carlos of that time, and the promotion of Constitutional Government. Like all other attempts of England to mix herself in the quarrels of semi-barbarous nations and bolster up bad governments, the British won a great many battles, and lost a great many lives, got the far greater portion of the blows and the misery, and at length returned home in disgust, with very little glory, and cheated out of a large portion of their pay. It is not pleasant, but it ought to be instructive, to read Spanish histories of the deliverance of Spain from the French by the six years' labours and sacrifices of men and treasure under Wellington, in which San Sebastian also had its part-5000 men were killed there- -as well as the more recent toils of Sir De Lacy Evans and his legion, and notice how extremely little glory Spanish fame assigns to any but their own pretended great patriots, who usually boasted great things and plundered and ran, leaving the fighting to others. The next notable place after San Sebastian is Tolosa, about twelve miles farther, and from Tolosa we soon get into very picturesque parts of the line. There are, up to Miranda, thirty-six tunnels, and as the train travels on we get views of the most romantic character-mountain passes, deep rocky cuttings, valleys and viaducts, plains, picturesque side landscapes in admirable succession. At length you reach Vittoria. The hills, as you pass you can observe, are frequently crowned with small forts to overawe the country. The young King of Spain was reviewing a part of his army at Vittoria when we arrived there, and had General Grant as a guest. I did not, however, stay there, for I had enjoyed an interview with General Grant at Bordeaux, and the King, I thought, I might subsequently meet at Madrid or elsewhere. At Miranda, not half way to Madrid, the junction occurs of the line leading down to Bilbao. The traveller can change his train and go on in half an hour, reaching Bilbao at six in the evening, or he can stay in excellent quarters at Miranda for the night, and pursue his journey next morning. This Miranda, on the river Ebro, is an excellent illustration of the civilizing influence of railways. Formerly it was a collection of dirty houses, with very poor hotels, in miserably dirty streets. Now the station has a refreshment-room, brilliantly lighted, served in a most satisfactory manner on reasonable terms, and near, two large houses fitted with bedrooms, the cleanest and most comfortable I ever met with for public accommodation. Having taken a bed at Bilbao, after between four and five hours' ride, next morning I went on by tram-car to Portugaletta, and was welcomed by my friends, the manager of the Bilbao Iron-ore Company and his lady. My plans were soon explained and arranged for, and much pleasant conversation ensued. There are several iron companies in the neighbourhood, and many managers, overseers, and leading men are English and Scotch Protestants. They are usually in the receipt of respectable salaries, but many of them are thoughtful men, and lament the loss of pastoral care and of English Sundays. Some attempts were being made to succour them in this respect, but were not perfectly satisfactory. The gentlemen sent out by the Church of England were not always spiritually-minded men, but rather persons who made a show of occupying the shepherd's place for its comforts and pay. These gentlemen, too, are very careful not to meddle with the Spaniards, not to attempt Spanish service, or in any way to diffuse the light of truths which they nevertheless believe to be necessary to salvation. If there are Spanish Protestant ministers in their neighbourhood they keep aloof from them. There is a Spanish Protestant minister in Bilbao who has a congregation of two hundred hearers I was informed, and some of the Protestants had begun to attend with him. He employs a colporteur, who delivers Bibles and tracts about the country; and the priests in some churches, especially in Durango, had put up notices directing that any of the people who received these books, infamosos libros (infamous books they are called), are to bring them to the priests, without reading them, that they may be burned. How Protestants who believe that the Bible contains the truths by which alone men can be regenerated and light be diffused to lead to moral and spiritual progress, can excuse themselves for practically ignoring or withholding it and the sacred truths it contains, is certainly beyond my comprehension. I met with the same thing at Madrid, but I shall refer to this more fully further on. The next morning I went by tram-car to Portugaletta, six miles or a little more from Bilbao, on a good pleasant road by the side of the Nervion. I could not but notice the difference between this river and the other rivers of Spain which I had visited. The iron-ore companies, chiefly English, had formed quays, made short lines of railway, were loading vessels for England and Germany, and had filled the river with life. The day was bright, and all looked cheerful. I soon reached the hospitable mansion of one of my friends, though my letter sent on from Bayonne had not reached, and soon explained my plans and wishes, which enlisted at once my friend's ready assistance. My first object, the close inspection of the wire-way, could be carried out that day, and the Cueva de Maddelena be visited on the following one. I soon went up the line to the point where one of the wire-ways was working, and, I was glad to find it, under the management of a stout hearty Yorkshireman, who came out, when quite a youth, with his father from Attercliffe, near Sheffield. We were quite at ease directly, and he undertook to show me and explain everything I wished to see. These mountain wire-ways are the invention of a gentleman named Hudson, and have a very queer appearance, but are admirably adapted for such a country. They carry their loads through the air, and vary in length from a quarter of a mile to two miles; one was said to reach four miles. You see strong posts, like lofty lamp-posts, and a strong wire twisted of smaller wires to be about an inch in diameter. On the top of each post is a pulley over which the wire passes, and on the wire, at about ten yards' distance from each other, hang buckets, each one on the descending line containing two hundredweights of ore, and returning on the ascending line empty. How the buckets passed the posts, and how they turned round at the end of the journey, were the puzzles I wished to have solved. The whole is worked by a steam-engine that sets in motion a large drum-wheel at one end. The buckets hang each on an iron rod, which at the upper part turns round like an elbow and clasps the wire like a hand about twelve inches broad, the inner part being formed of hardwood and indiarubber, so as to hold tenaciously. By means of this elbow arrangement the buckets are held free and pass the posts; and at the inner portion of the elbow there are two small pulleys, so that when each rod with its bucket gets to the end of its journey it slips by means of these inner pulleys upon a frame of horseshoe shape, which takes it off the wire, and by its momentum it runs on to the centre of this horseshoe-shaped frame, where it is tipped by a man and emptied. The same man then shoves it on to another, who slides it forward to the end of the frame, where it catches the wire again, and so proceeds on its journey to be refilled and thus continue its work. It is a very ingenious, simple contrivance, admirably adapted to a hilly country where deep ravines have to be crossed, which would be extremely expensive to be filled up and formed into good roads. There are parts of Wales, I should imagine, where such an arrangement would be very valuable; and at Carrara and Massa in Italy the white marble might be brought down with far more ease than by their present crude arrangements. After a complete survey of these mechanical appliances my Yorkshire friend took me to see some of the deep cuttings of the Campanella Mine, where masses of fine ore, fifty yards or more deep, have been cut out, making great gulfs in the side of the mountain. There men are still working like bees. A little time ago, in the centre of one of these vast masses of iron-ore, they came upon a cave of limestone full of lovely stalactites, some of them as fine as the finest lace, doubtless formed under the sea millions of years ago. My friend and myself climbed up into this cave and entered by its narrow opening, closed temporarily by wood for safety, and as we looked round and observed the sparkling beautiful shapes, the words of Gray came vividly to mind : "Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear; And waste its sweetness on the desert air.” After my survey of these interesting objects of outer nature, I had a good chat with my worthy guide, who was one of those who lamented the lack of spiritual aid for the English in those parts. He told me his father had been a coal proprietor in Yorkshire, but unfortunate in his undertakings. He became disheartened, and removed himself and family-I think six children-to Spain, to try his fortune in mining there. He succeeded in a moderate way, and got forty yoke of oxen and a fair sum of money beforehand, when six armed men of a banditti came upon them one night, bound the men, tortured mother and daughter until they told where the money was kept, carried off the oxen, and left them entirely destitute. The scoundrels were subsequently taken and sentenced to twenty years' imprisonment. Some portion of their plunder was got back, but I could not but reflect what severe trials some persons have to pass through, and what a blessing a strong good government is that makes such bandit cruelty difficult if not quite impossible. I returned to my kind host and hostess, and spent a very happy evening, after having prepared for the ascent the next day to the Cueva de Maddelena. The mountain near the summit of which is this renowned cave is the highest point of a ridge of mountains, and very rugged and steep. There is a very rough, narrow pathway, sometimes difficult to trace, but known to the mountaineers. The clever manager at Galdames and a young English gentleman, an official at the mines, volunteered to accompany me, and took two Spanish youths to bear provisions and rugs. We toiled up the rough sides of the mountain, and in about three hours got to our cave. had splendid views of the country as we rose, and passed, near the cave, I suppose the smallest village in the world, it consisted of two dirty houses, though it had a distinct name. We The cave had quite a grand entrance. It was as large as a church. There was a small picturesque bridge, very ancient, just within the entrance of the cave, crossing a small stream which came from the interior. On the left hand there was a little chapel, with an altar and appendages, very rude, a shade better than a stable, but adding to the unique character of the place. The cave maintained its size for perhaps two hundred yards, with many stalactites or formations hanging from the roof, and stalagmites, or formations on the floor, made by drippings from above, and then it was contracted with masses of stone |