DEPARTURE FOR MALAGA--SCENERY ON AND DANGERS OF THE ROAD TO EL
BURGO--FINE VIEW FROM CASARABONELA--AN INDEPENDENT INNKEEPER--A
SPANISH BATTLE, ATTENDED WITH MORE DECISIVE RESULTS THAN
USUAL--DESCRIPTION OF CASARABONELA--COMELINESS OF ITS WASHING
NYMPHS--ROAD TO MALAGA--RIVER GUADALJORCE--SIGILA OF THE
ROMANS--CARTAMA.
Bidding adieu to Ronda,--its fruitful groves, crystal springs,
snow-white bread, and jet-black eyes,--we will take the road to Malaga.
At about a mile and a half from the town, the road arrives at and passes
under a long aqueduct, by means of which a stream is conveyed across the
valley, for the supply of the fountains of the Mercadillo; thereby
saving to its inhabitants the expense of sinking deep wells in the rocky
hill.
At the end of another half league, the road having gained a slight
acclivity, commands a fine view of the venerable old city and its
fertile plain; but diving thence into a dark and narrow ravine, a
contrast of the wildest character presents itself, and the road winds
for many miles amongst the rugged roots of the _old women's teeth_,
already noticed.--These have certainly not had the effect of grinding
the path smooth--for a more execrable _trocha_ it never has been my fate
to ride over. Part of it is so bad,--resembling a petrified honeycomb of
Brobdignag dimensions,--that our horses had to pause at every step, and
consider into which of the holes presented to their choice they should
next venture to put their feet.
The scenery is splendid. It consists of terrific precipices and
impending mountains--foaming torrents and rustic bridges--umbrageous
oaks and wide-spreading cork trees. But our enjoyment of these wild
beauties was considerably diminished, as well by the torrents of rain
that fell without ceasing from the time of our entering the mountains,
as from the attention it was necessary to give our horses.
Our progress, necessarily slow over this _camino de perdices_,[109] was
yet further retarded by numberless trains of loaded mules, which, having
left Ronda with the earliest dawn, had gained an advance upon us over
the plain, and, labouring under the bulky produce of the fair, were
filing slowly along the same narrow track as ourselves, restricting our
pace to an average rate of something less than three miles an hour.
Vain were all our endeavours to gain the head of the lengthened
column;--for though we seized every opportunity the rugged road
presented of pushing on with our less burthened animals, yet no sooner
had we succeeded in passing one string of mules, than we found ourselves
in contact with the tail of another.
Gradually, however, the _Cafilas_[110] became wider and wider apart; and
on arriving within a few miles of the town of El Burgo, an open and
comparatively level space presenting itself, unobstructed by man or
beast, we began to indulge the hope that our perseverance had earned its
reward, and that thenceforth a clear road lay before us. Our impatient
steeds gladly availed themselves of the permission to quicken their
pace; but five minutes' canter carried us across the verdant glade, when
we again found ourselves immured within a rocky ravine, shadowed by the
dark forest, and--to our disappointment--in contact with yet another
string of mules and _boricos_.
The pass was more rugged than any we had hitherto met with, and the
sure-footed animals, with noses almost touching the stony path, were
scrambling down the rough descent with caprinine agility; though
sometimes--thrown off their equilibrium by the size rather than the
weight of their burthens,--they would stagger from side to side, so as
to make their destruction appear inevitable. Righting themselves,
however, in the most scientific manner, and making a short pause, as if
to recover their self-possession, they would resume their perilous
undertaking, without further incitement than an "_arre!_"[111] glad
enough not to _feel_ the usual accompaniment on their houghs or ribs.
Considering it advisable to follow the muleteers' example, we too
allowed our beasts to use their own discretion in the selection of their
stepping-places by giving them their heads; and, folding our cloaks
about us, so as to afford the utmost possible protection against the
pelting storm, we resigned ourselves to fate; there being nothing for
it, as the philosophic Sancho says, but patience and a shrug of the
shoulders.
Whilst proceeding with our necks thus in chancery--sliding, stumbling,
and dripping along, in rear of the closely formed column--we came most
unexpectedly upon a peasant, mounted on a sleek mule, who, taking
advantage of a favourable spot, had drawn up on the road side to allow
the train to pass. The circumstance of his being the only person we had
met journeying towards Ronda, would of itself have caused us to notice
him, but there was something in the man's deportment that peculiarly
attracted observation. In the first place, he suffered all his
fellow-countrymen to pass without deigning to return their usual
courteous salutation; in the next, he was smoking a _tabaco_[112]
instead of a _papelito_; and, lastly, he was muffled up so completely in
his _manta_ that every part of his dress was concealed, and of his face
little more than the eyes could be seen. These were dark, piercing, and
inquisitive, and their sidelong glances, evidently following their
owner's thoughts, were directed with searching scrutiny on the tempting
bales that passed successively before him.
So thoroughly was the attention of this person devoted to this
interesting examination, that, concealed as we were by the moving
mountains of Manchester goods which preceded us, our military cortège,
bringing up the rear of the column, took him completely by surprise. For
the moment all presence of mind forsook him. His left arm, by an
instinctive jerk, removed the hat from his head; disclosing a most
sinister countenance, and a brace of pistols stuck in his worsted sash;
whilst, with the other, he hurriedly made the _cruz de admirado_,[113]
muttering, at the same time, the usual passing benediction. With the
flurry of a person exerting himself to _appear_ composed, he then, to
our great amusement and astonishment, began singing one of the peculiar
ditties of the _arrieros_, at the very extent of his voice.
These sudden transitions, first from arrogance to servility, then from
alarm to merriment, struck us all very forcibly; and each was pondering
to himself,--for it rained too hard to render talking agreeable,--what
could possibly have given rise to them, when, reaching the bottom of the
descent, a sharp turn in the road brought us in view of a party of some
twelve or fifteen persons, who, partially concealed in a thicket of
underwood, were assembled under the shelter of a huge cork tree, about
fifty paces off the road. Though habited as _Contrabandistas_, they were
armed up to the teeth, and had a far more offensive than defensive
appearance. Most of the party were grouped round the stem of the huge
tree, under protection of which a fire was struggling for existence
against the storm and rain; but some of the men were scattered amongst
the brushwood, and seemed to be girthing up and preparing their horses
for a start.
All eyes were anxiously fixed upon us the moment we came in sight,
showing that the muleteer's song had not been a spontaneous outbreak of
hilarity; and the examination of our persons was evidently productive of
some little distrust and apprehension; for though the folds of our
capacious cloaks screened our persons most effectually from view, yet
the glazed caps that protruded above, and the steel scabbards that
peeped out below, sufficiently showed our military calling.
A short and hurried consultation was the result of their scrutiny. That
ended, one of the party, who seemed to be its chief, stepped a few paces
towards us, whilst the rest, as if wishing to avoid observation, resumed
their interrupted occupation at the fire.
The person who thus put himself forward was a handsome, jolly-looking
fellow, who, despite the heat of some fifty Andalusian summers, was
bordering on corpulency. Richly dressed and well armed (as well with
assurance as with blunderbuss and pistols), he was, in every sense of
the word, _un hombre de bigote_;[114] and, saluting our party most
courteously, he requested our knightships would alight and warm
ourselves at their fire; and, if we could put up with road-way fare,
partake of their poor breakfast.
Treating this invitation as--that which no doubt it was meant to be,--a
mere _compliment d'usage_, we politely, but with the brevity which the
Spanish language admits of, excused ourselves (for the weather was
anti-ceremonious), and passed on without even exchanging a single word
amongst ourselves.
That fatal effects are frequently the consequence of too great
_loquacity_, no one will venture to dispute; but that similar results
should spring from over-_taciturnity_, many may be disposed to
controvert. Voltaire (I think) relates a ludicrous story of some
drowning Dutchmen, who would not part with their _pipes_ to cry help;
but the fact may be doubted. In the present case, however, several
luckless wights were actually throttled for want of one saving word of
English!--But I am anticipating the catastrophe of our adventure, if so
it deserve to be called.
We had no sooner passed beyond hearing of the suspicious-looking troop,
than a peasant, who had stuck close to our heels all the morning, rode
up to inform us that the persons we had just met were _muy mala
gente_,[115] and that we had had a most fortunate escape.--We too were
pretty well convinced that the party had halted at that retired spot
with the intention of taking something more substantial than breakfast;
but we did not feel surprised at their allowing us to pass without
molestation, since our party was strong and our baggage light.
On our arrival at Malaga next day, we learnt that a sharp affair had
taken place near El Burgo, between some of the government troops and a
gang of robbers; and the following afternoon, when riding on the
Alameda, whom should we meet but our quondam friend, and two of his
companions, proceeding under an escort to the city gaol. He recognized
us immediately, but his breeding was by no means improved by the air of
the city;--the friendly greeting of the Sierra being changed into a
torrent of maledictions.
Curious to learn the particulars of the case, and cause of his abuse of
the _malditos Ingleses_, we made particular inquiries on the subject,
and learnt, to our surprise, that we had ourselves been mainly
instrumental in causing the apprehension of the robbers. Deceived by our
being muffled up in our cloaks, they had taken us for one of the
detachments of Spanish troops, which, at the breaking up of the fair,
are sent from Ronda to patrole all the principal roads leading through
the Serranía. The vidette whom we came upon so unexpectedly had not been
able to give the bandits sufficient time, either to prepare for action,
or to conceal themselves; which accounted for the confusion so
perceptible when we first discovered them; as, expecting to have easy
work with the muleteers, they had secured their horses in the thicket,
to have all hands ready for the ransack.
Trusting that our suspicions had not been excited, and relieved from all
apprehension of encountering another patrole for some hours, they had
stopped, and were in the act of plundering one of the richly-laden
trains that we had passed in the morning, when the real _gens d'armes_
came to the rescue. In their fancied security, the robbers had gone so
deliberately to work, that the notice of their scout had not given them
time to regain their tethered horses; and in the scuffle that ensued,
three of the gang were captured, whose necks, as we were afterwards
informed, were in the due course of justice submitted to the _garrote_.
I must now return to El Burgo,--which place we were five hours in
reaching, although its distance from Ronda is scarcely eleven miles;
indeed, in the measure of the country, it is reckoned but two leagues.
El Burgo de Ronda (as it is generally called) is a miserable village,
containing about 200 _Vecinos_; but it is most romantically situated, in
a fertile plain encompassed with magnificent woods and mountains, and
watered by numerous springs. We arrived thoroughly drenched, and were
glad to halt for a short time, to breathe our horses and dry our cloaks.
Towards noon, the weather becoming more propitious, we continued our
journey to Casarabonela. The road is very bad all the way, though
somewhat better than we had gone over in the morning. The scenery is not
by any means so fine.
The direct road to Malaga avoids Casarabonela, leaving it, perched on
the side of a steep mountain, some thousand feet above, and about half a
mile off, on the right; but the view from the summit of the ridge
overlooking the town is so grand, that I would strongly recommend all
travellers to ascend the rugged mountain, even at the cost of an hour's
delay, and risk of a displaced collar-bone.
The little town, embosomed in groves of fruit-trees, lies about half way
down the southern side of the mountain. On its right, and somewhat
overlooking it, an old Moorish fortress occupies a cragged eminence; its
smoked and shattered walls seeming, after the manner of its founders, to
be mourning with dirt and ashes the loss of the rich plain spread out
beneath; over which, in former days, they held despotic dominion.
This vast plain stretches south, to where the winding Guadaljorce
discharges itself into the ocean; the Sierra Gibalgalía rising "like a
huge incumbrance" from its centre, and sheltering the mouldering walls
of the famed city of Cartáma. Along the eastern side of the valley, the
mountains of Alhama, the Alpujarras, and snowy ridge of Granada,
successively overtop the rugged ramifications of the Sierra of Almoxia,
which bound it in that direction. To the west, the Sierras of Alhaurin
and Mijas present themselves, rising abruptly from the plain. Between
these two masses of mountains, and beyond the plain, a wide expanse of
the blue and glassy Mediterranean is visible, studded with white sails,
bearing the rich produce of Malaga to every part of the world.
The descent to the town is good, but tedious,--winding through luxuriant
vineyards and orchards. The vines are here trained on frames raised
about five feet from the ground; a method by no means general in Spain,
and which, though certainly more pleasing to the eye, is not considered
so favourable to the fruit as that usually adopted.
The Inn looked dirty and comfortless, and its keeper was so imbued with
the constitutional doctrines of liberty and equality,--then much in
vogue,--that he would hardly condescend to answer our questions
concerning accommodation, and was perfectly indignant at our suggesting
the expediency of his rising from his seat, and showing us the way to
his stable.--"There was the door of his house if we chose to enter; if
not, we had but to suit ourselves elsewhere."
Aware that the town did not possess another _posada_, and that the
nearest _Venta_ on the road was at a distance of several leagues, the
dignified innkeeper trusted, from the lateness of the hour, that we
should necessarily be obliged to place ourselves at his mercy. We, on
the other hand, determined, if possible, to obtain accommodation
elsewhere, and seeing the lady-owner of the adjoining house standing at
her door, asked her if she knew any one who, for a handsome
consideration, would furnish us with a night's lodging.
After a short parley, it was agreed that her house and stable should be
placed at our "_disposicion_" for the night, and sundry of our hard
dollars at her's in perpetuity. The publican--who, pending the
negociation, sat at his portal puffing a cigar, affecting the utmost
indifference to its result, but in reality listening impatiently to
every word that passed--no sooner found how good a thing had slipped
through his fingers, than he started up in the most ungovernable
passion, venting his rage upon our buxom hostess, somewhat in the
following strain--"_Mala Pascua te dé Dios! Hija de puta
ruin!_[116]--May you be burnt for a witch before the year's over, for
taking the bread out of a neighbour's mouth!--May the ghost of your
cuckold husband appear at your bedside this night, you shameless
wanton!--May"--"_Que chusco es el tuerto!_"[117] interrupted the
incensed fair one, in a scream that completely drowned the rest of his
good wishes, to whatever extent they may have been carried--"Look at
home, _Cabron_,[118] ere you call an honest man cuckold, and a virtuous
woman wanton."--"Virtuous woman, indeed!" resumed he of the Venta; "and
admits four smooth-chinned _Ingleses_ into her house, to say nothing of
their two stout grooms, and that monkey-faced Portuguese, their guide;
whom I know right well, though he has grown fat under English feeding;
and whom, fat or lean, no virtuous woman would suffer within reach of
her nostrils."
This unlooked-for attack on "lazy Antonio" drew a furious cross-fire
upon the irritated _Ventero_; for whilst our hostess flinched not one
inch from his direct and somewhat scandalous assault--_par pari
referens_--"_Vosse mercé_" opened a fire of loud, nasal
Portuguese-Spanish upon his flank, that exceeded in noise the braying of
a whole troop of asses.
This, in its turn, unkennelled the publican's _Cara Sposa_. The combat
recovered its equilibrium, and seemed likely to be terminated only by
the coming night; for all our endeavours to withdraw the valorous
Antonio proved unavailing. But, in the words of the Manchegan Knight,
"_siempre deja la ventura, una puerta abierta_."[119] The publican and
his wife, though proof against the reputation-killing batteries of their
open enemies, could not stand before an insidious covert attack that was
now about to open upon them.
The town's people, amongst whom the liberal _ventero_ did not appear to
be in good odour, flocked in crowds to the scene of action, and, though
professing to take no part in the fray, yet, by whooping, hollowing, and
laughing, whenever the widow and her Portuguese ally fired a successful
shot at their adversaries, they gave the former a "moral support," that,
in its results, proved quite as efficacious as an active interference.
The Innkeeper--who hitherto had manfully confronted his opponents--now
saw that victory was no longer attainable, and abandoned the field;
leaving his light-tongued helpmate to cover his retreat. This task she
performed with consummate ability, supporting her nearly exhausted
volleys of words by screams of defiance, and various offensive
gesticulations. The last distinguishable turn of reproach that reached
our ears, was _Alarbes!_[120] which she seemed to consider the _ne plus
ultra_ of vituperation, and certainly was the very last epithet we had
any right to expect would be applied to fair-skinned mortals like
ourselves, by such a bronze-complexioned semi-morisco.
The battle over, and stable door unlocked,--the key of which, firmly
grasped in her right hand, had been the standard under which our hostess
had fought and conquered,--we led our tired horses in, leaving her to
fire a round of taunts in celebration of the victory.
Casarabonela is a clean and well-paved town. For the former quality, it
is principally indebted to a stream of limpid water that, issuing from
the side of the mountain, rushes down the steep streets, carrying every
thing offensive before it. Its supply is so bountiful that, besides
doing the scavenging duty of the town, and turning a number of
mill-wheels, it is led off in irrigating channels through all the
gardens and orchards in the neighbourhood.
The inhabitants are celebrated for their comeliness, and I willingly
bear witness to the truth of common report in this particular instance;
having seldom seen more lovely faces than amongst those of the
bright-eyed, fair-complexioned damsels of this mountain town. Nor are
their figures unworthy of note, albeit, their limbs are something too
muscular for Naiades and Oreades.
It is meet, by the way, that I should explain _how_ I became acquainted
with this latter fact relating to their secret history, lest scandal
should blight the fair fame of the Casarabonelian maidens. The truth is,
then, we arrived at the town upon a _washing day_, and in taking our
evening stroll, chanced to come upon the congregated village nymphs
engaged knee-deep at their lavatory vocation in the mill stream; jumping
and stamping with all their might upon the soiled garments of the
preceding week; and certainly displaying more of their fair skins than
might reasonably have been expected to meet the eyes of strangers. So
they appeared to think also; for our sudden advent created an
extraordinary sensation amongst them. Some had sufficient presence of
mind to get on dry ground ere they loosened the bandage that confined
their petticoats at the knee; others, regardless of consequences, let
them drop in the water; and some few were so completely bewildered as to
fancy their only chance of obtaining concealment was by squatting down,
even in the midst of the stream.--All laughed, but there was nothing
either immodest or rude in their merriment. They were evidently ashamed
that their bare legs (albeit not to be ashamed of) had been exposed to
our gaze; but, at the same time, they could not but be amused at the
various extraordinary expedients resorted to to conceal them.
As we could not accuse ourselves of any indiscreet curiosity in this
matter--for we had followed a beaten path leading to the old castle--we
had but to compliment them on their fair skins and sound understandings,
and pass on. Indeed, I suspect it was merely our being strangers that
had occasioned their modesty to be so put to the blush; for their own
countrymen must have been passing to and fro the whole day, in
proceeding to their work in the fields. Such is the force of habit.
The view from the Old Castle, looking towards Malaga, is nearly equal to
that from the top of the mountain; and in the opposite direction, the
outline of the Sierra itself is very bold, and is set off to great
advantage by the rich foliage of well-grown forest trees that clothe its
rough side.
Our landlady's will was better than her accommodation. Our beds, which
(so careful was she of her reputation) were all in one small room,
looked well enough; but the somnifugeous animals domesticated therein
were so numerous, so vigorous, and so insatiable, that we gladly hailed
the dawn of day to escape from their persevering attentions.
The road down the side of the mountain (in its windings upwards of a
mile) is far from good, and it is only tolerable after gaining the
plain, until it passes by a ford to the left bank of the Guadaljorce,
when it becomes practicable for carriages all the way to Malaga.
The course of this river (_Guada al jars_--River of the Guard) is most
eccentric. It rises considerably to the eastward of the city of
Antequera, almost, it may be said, on the margin of the Genil, and
running, during the early part of its course, nearly parallel to that
river, seems, like it, to be directing itself to the Guadalquivír. But,
after following this westerly course for upwards of thirty miles, it
turns abruptly from the level country, in a southerly direction; pierces
its way through a most intricate country to Alora; washes the base of
the rock on which that ancient city is perched; and then, entering the
vale of Malaga, winds round to the eastward, fertilizing that spacious
plain; and discharges itself into the Mediterranean:--thus, from its
source to its mouth, describing a perfect semicircle.
In the centre of the extensive vale of Malaga, the volume of the
Guadaljorce is increased by the junction of the Rio Grande--a far less
considerable stream, which comes down from the mountains encircling
Toloz, Monda, and other Roman-Moorish fortresses, that guard the passes
on the western side of the plain.
Carter, describing this latter river from its source to its embouchure,
states it to be the _Sigila_ of the Romans. Should this be the case,
(though it seems probable that the larger stream of the two would have
carried its name to the sea) we have yet to learn by what name the
Guadaljorce was known in former days.--I mention this, as I shall
hereafter refer to the subject in speaking of the _Salsus_, which, it
strikes me forcibly, was the name given formerly to the _upper_ portion
of the Guadaljorce--_i. e._ before it was lost in the rocky defiles to
the north of Alora.
The Guadaljorce--jore--joz--and--quivirejo, (for it is equally known by
all those names) runs in a wide, pebbly bed, and is readily enough
forded at all seasons, excepting when heavy rains happen to have caused
it to overflow its banks. Under any circumstances, however, Malaga may
be reached by making a détour to the westward; crossing the Rio Grande
at Casa Palma, and from thence, following the road by Cartama, down the
right bank of the Guadaljorce, until arrived abreast of the village of
Aljaurinejo, where a bridge presents itself.
The direct Road from Casarabonela crosses the River, previous to its
confluence with the Rio Grande; and about a mile beyond the ford,
reaches the _Venta de Cartáma_. This is often made the resting-place
between Ronda and Malaga. Now, as I write with the view of tempting
others to ride after me, I feel called upon, despite the poor
accommodation of Casarabonela, to advise future travellers to put up
with it; for certainly a more wretched hovel than the Venta of Cartáma I
never looked into. A single glance produces an irritation of the skin,
and a sympathetic restlessness of the fingers.
Proceeding onwards, a view of the town of Cartáma is obtained on the
right. It lies somewhat removed from the bank of the Guadaljorce, upon
the north side of the Sierra Gibalgalía. The harvest of statues,
pavements, coins, &c. gathered amongst the ruins of this ancient Roman
city, has been very abundant. A few years back it possessed a Forum,
Porticoes, and Temples, in a very perfect state. But, though the
Spaniards talk much of their antiquities, they trouble themselves but
little about their preservation; and Cartáma contains now scarcely any
thing worthy of note.
From the _Venta de Cartáma_ to Malaga the road is practicable for
carriages to an extent of thirteen miles and a half; making the total
distance from Casarabonela twenty-five miles;--from Ronda, forty-five.