UNPREPOSSESSING APPEARANCE OF MALAGA--DREAD OF YELLOW FEVER--THE
ALAMEDA--DERIVATION OF THE CITY'S NAME, AND SKETCH OF ITS
HISTORY--THE GIBRALFARO AND ALCAZABA--CATHEDRAL--CIGAR
MANUFACTORY--CALCULATION OF THE SUPPLY AND CONSUMPTION OF CIGARS IN
SPAIN--MALAGA
FIGURES--POPULATION--TRADE--WINE--HARBOUR--SOCIETY--VISIT TO EL
RETIRO--THE FANDANGO AND CACHUCHA.
The appearance of Malaga on a near approach is mean and unprepossessing;
nor is this an optical deception, for the suburbs are miserably poor and
excessively dirty. This last, indeed, is a fault that the city may be
charged with generally; and such is the contempt in which the virtue of
cleanliness is held by the inhabitants, that, though the little river
_Guadalmedina_[121] winds its way through the heart of the city,
requiring only to be properly husbanded to keep the place sweet and
clean; yet, from mismanagement, it is itself suffered to become a
nuisance; the scanty stream left after supplying the fountains being in
summer so obstructed by heaps of filth, brought out from the city, and
thrown into its wide bed, that not having sufficient power to carry off
the accumulated mass of corruption, it serves only (by keeping it
constantly moist) to render the process of putrefaction more fetid and
deadly.
The calm indifference with which the inhabitants of Malaga endure the
intolerable nuisance thus generated by their improvidence and indolence,
and the patience with which they look forward to the winter torrents to
rid them of it, contrast singularly enough with the immoderate alarm
occasioned by the arrival of a vessel from the Habana, and the haste
with which they send it from their port to undergo purification at
Minorca. Thus, whilst dreading most unwarrantably the importation of the
yellow fever from a place which, at the time, perhaps, was perfectly
free from it, they disregard altogether the little forcing-bed of
miasmatic diseases, situated under their own immediate noses.
The city, it is true, has suffered so severely from visitations of this
terrible disease, that the inhabitants may well dread its recurrence;
but since they are aware that Coin, Alhaurin, and other places in the
neighbourhood, situated in a purer atmosphere, are beyond its influence;
surely they ought to look at home for the causes of its fatal virulence,
if not of its actual production.
The winter torrents come down in great force, and, from the proximity of
the mountains, the Guadalmedina rises very suddenly; rendering a wide
bed quite necessary to carry it off, as well as strong walls to resist
and direct it in its course. But, in spite of these precautions, the
lower portions of the city are frequently inundated.
A wooden bridge, on stone piers, keeps up the communication between the
two parts of the city during _sweet winter_; but the bed of the river,
which is eighty yards wide, may be crossed dry-foot the greater part of
the year.
The principal portion of the city is on the left bank of the
Guadalmedina. Indeed, the part situated on the western side is, properly
speaking, only a large suburb. The change on passing the bridge is most
agreeable; the first object that presents itself being the Alameda, a
fine open space, lined on three sides with handsome houses, and on the
fourth open to the refreshing westerly breezes. A shaded carriage drive
goes round the quadrangle; and down its centre, a broad gravel walk,
furnished with seats, and planted with flowers and shrubs, affords the
public a delightful promenade.
On a Sunday evening this _Paseo_ is crowded with all classes of the
inhabitants; and the dark voluptuous Malagueña, as, with mincing step,
she threads the motley throng, fails not to display her skill in
_fanning_ signals to her various acquaintances. The stranger, whilst
following, with admiring eyes, the graceful movements of the fluttering
parchment,[122] little suspects that he is himself the subject matter of
its telegraphic communications.
Besides the Alameda, there are several fine open spaces in the city, but
certainly not one good street, although some few pretend to the
convenience of a _trottoir_. The inns are tolerably good. That which is
dignified by the name of "_Los tres Reyes_" was the best, at the period
of my last visit.
Malaga is said by some to have received its name from the Hebrew work
_Malach_, (signifying to reign) and to have been founded by the
Phoenicians, eight centuries before the advent of our Saviour. Others,
on the contrary, maintain that its name is derived from the Phoenician
language; the same word _Malach_ signifying in it _to salt_; and that
the city was so called from the quantity of fish taken and cured there.
The learned Florez, who inclines to this latter opinion, states that the
cured fish of Malaga was so esteemed at Rome that a body corporate of
merchants was established in that Capital of the world, under the name
of _Malacitani_, as proved by an inscription found in the _Campo di
Flora_.
By the Romans the city was called Malaca; and became one of their
_confederates_, (of which there were but three in Boetica) as well as
the great emporium for their Spanish trade; although Pomponius Mela
speaks slightingly of its importance.[123] It was captured by the Moors
under Tarik, A.D. 715; and probably such portions of the walls as still
exist were built about that period; but the fortress on the
_Gibralfaro_, and the _Alcazaba_, or Royal Palace, are said to have been
erected only towards the end of the thirteenth century; when the Moors,
by the rapid progress of the Christian arms, (which had already wrested
from them both Cordoba and Valencia) saw the necessity of strengthening
the towns of their diminished territories.
Malaga had become a separate kingdom, however, as early as the beginning
of the eleventh century; when the Caliphat of Cordoba ceased under the
imbecile Haccham II.
The first who mounted the throne of Malaga was Ali Aben Hameth. But it
does not appear that the crown was regularly handed down in one family;
it seems rather to have been a constant object of strife; and its power
over other states seems to have varied according to the talents of him
who wore it; for sometimes we find the sovereign of Malaga owning
obedience to the Princes of Seville and Cordoba; at others claiming
dominion over those kingdoms; and generally, over the city of Granada.
Ishmael, a prince of the house of Alhamares, was the last king who dwelt
within the walls of the _Alcazaba_. From the time of his being called to
the throne of Granada, (A.D. 1313), Malaga was governed by a prince of
the royal blood.
Malaga was one of the last cities that fell to the Christian arms,
Ferdinand and Isabella having succeeded in capturing it, after an
obstinate siege, only five years prior to the conquest of Granada, viz.,
A.D. 1487.
The _Gibralfaro_ is, or rather has been, a fortress of great strength
and considerable extent. Its ruins occupy the crest of a rugged
mountain, from which, and a signal tower that formerly stood on the
summit, it receives its present name, _Gibel al faro_.
The rocky ridge stretches east and west along the Mediterranean shore,
falling precipitously towards the beach, and roughly and rapidly in the
opposite direction, but less abruptly as it approaches the city, which
it partially shelters to the S.E. A narrow, walled passage connects the
castle with the _Alcazaba_, which, standing on a plateau near the
termination of the rocky tongue, has a better and more immediate
command over the city and harbour than even the _Gibralfaro_ itself.
The walls of the fortress were evidently constructed at the cost of some
proud Roman temple, and were probably run up in great haste, as numerous
fragments of columns, capitals, &c., are built in with the more suitable
bricks which the Moors generally used when they bestowed pains upon
their works.
The walls of the Alcazaba, like those of the fortress, are studded with
these venerable fragments, and are in an equally ruinous condition. The
principal gateway is, however, tolerably perfect, and affords a fine
specimen of Moorish architecture. The Alcazaba answered the triple
purpose of a royal palace, an advanced work of the more elevated
citadel, and a dock or arsenal for the city galleys. The docks were
situated under its north wall; but they have long since been buried
under the ruins of the impending building, and are now covered over with
houses.
The Cathedral of Malaga, commenced about the middle of the sixteenth
century, is a handsome building; but, from one only of its towers having
been finished, its appearance is much injured. How frequently has it
happened, and how much is it to be regretted, that edifices, dedicated
to the worship of the Deity, have, as in this instance, been planned and
partly executed on a scale of magnificence totally disproportioned to
the means possessed for completing them according to the original
design.
Besides the deformities that offend the eye in these patched-up
buildings, and the unpleasant feeling to which the contemplation of an
unfinished Christian church ever gives birth, a deplorable conviction is
forced upon the mind, that these splendid piles were erected rather with
a view to commemorate their _founders_ than to promote the well-being of
mankind; and that large sums of money have thus been vainly squandered,
or, at best, lain profitless for ages; which might have been otherwise
beneficially employed in the interests of Christianity.
Let me not lead my reader to suppose, however, that I dislike to see
stately temples raised for the worship of our Creator. On the contrary,
the lofty towers, high vaulted aisles, and gorgeous windows of many of
our Christian churches are well calculated to predispose the mind to
devotion; since, wonderful as they are, considered as works of man, how
contemptible do they appear, compared with the mighty works of _our_
Maker! and, viewed in this light, they cannot but impress us with a
sense of His power and our utter insignificance.
With such feelings I have ever regarded the splendid cathedrals of
Antwerp, Cöln, Rheims, Ratisbon, Vienna, &c., which are amongst the
number of those that remain to this day in a more or less unfinished
state, though, in other respects, they are some of the finest specimens
of Gothic architecture extant.
The cathedral of Malaga is of noble proportions, but of a heavy,
over-ornamented, composite style of architecture; and it is disfigured
in an extraordinary degree with gilt chapels, carved saints, and votive
offerings. It contains little worthy of notice besides the carved
wood-work of the seats in the choir, the jewels, dresses, &c., in the
_Tesoreria_[124], and one good painting by Alonzo Cano, in the chapel of
the _Rosario_.
The tower of the cathedral is 300 feet in height, and commands a fine
view, though not equal to that obtained from the _Gibralfaro_, since
this latter includes the whole city, as well as the extensive plain of
the Guadaljorce, and the various ranges of mountains that stretch along
the Mediterranean shore between Monda and Marbella.
Immediately under the _Alcazaba_ stands an immense and rather handsome
edifice, built not many years since for a custom-house; but, meeting
with few customers in that line of business, it has recently been
converted into a Royal cigar manufactory, and is now in a thriving
condition.
Previous to the establishment of this assistant, the Royal manufactory
of Seville had imposed on it the _impossible_ task of supplying cigars
and snuff for the whole of Spain; and even now, with such additional
means of production, the demand is _ten times_ greater than the two
factories have the power of furnishing, as the following statement will,
I think, pretty clearly show.
The manufactory of Malaga employs 700 persons (women and children) in
making cigars. A good pair of hands at the work may furnish three
hundred a day; but (as the children cannot make half that number),
taking the average at two hundred, gives a daily supply of 140,000. The
manufactory of Seville employs 1,000 men and 1,600 women. These 2,600
persons may be calculated as furnishing, on an average, 250 each per
diem; or, altogether, 650,000. Add to this number the 140,000 made at
Malaga, and we have 790,000 as the "total of the whole" manufactured
daily in Spain. But, as there are but six working days in the week, and
seven smoking--indeed the lungs ought to be calculated as doing double
work in Spain on Sundays and Saints' days, whilst the hands are quite
idle--we must reduce that amount by one seventh, to obtain the average
number of cigars furnished for each day's consumption throughout the
year, which amounts therefore but to 677,143.
Now, taking the population of the country at 11,000,000 of souls, and
supposing (which is a moderate computation) that but one million and a
half of that number are consumers of tobacco, it is evident that Spain,
with her present means, can supply her smokers with but _seven
sixteenths_ of a cigar _per ora, per diem_; and, consequently, as my
proposition advanced, with less than one tenth part of the demand.
It follows, as a corollary, that great encouragement is given to the
pernicious habits of smuggling and smoking _papelitos_[125].
The persons employed in the manufacture of cigars are paid at the rate
of one _real vellon_ for fifty, which enables even a first-rate maker to
earn but fifteen pence a day. The best cigars are made entirely of
Habana tobacco, and are sold at the factory at the rate of thirty
_reales vellon_ a hundred, or about three farthings, English, each. The
second quality, composed of mixed tobaccoes, (that is, the interior of
Habana leaf, and the outside of Virginia) cost eighteen _reales vellon_
per hundred, or something under a half-penny each.
It may be seen, from this statement of the cost of cigars of the Royal
Manufactory, that smuggling cannot but prosper; since, at the Habana,
the very best cigars are sold for twelve dollars a thousand (or a trifle
above a half-penny each), whilst those of inferior quality may be had
for one fourth that price.
One of the most interesting sights of Malaga is the _Studio_ of Señor
Leon, the most renowned of the numerous modellers in clay, for which the
city is celebrated. His figures are admirably executed, as well as
strikingly characteristic; and, from first to last, are the work of
himself and family. His sons form them by hand of a very ductile clay;
he goes over such parts as require the finish of an experienced artist;
and they are then passed over to his daughters, who give them life by
their exquisite taste and skilful management of the pencil. The price is
high, the most simple figures costing four dollars (about seventeen
shillings) each. A group of nine equestrian figures that Señor Leon had
just executed for the _Infante_ Don Francisco de Paula, when I last
visited Malaga, he valued at nine thousand _reales vellon_, or ninety
four pounds!
The population of Malaga is estimated at sixty thousand souls. It was
formerly much greater, and, not many years since, considerably less,
having been reduced from 80,000 to 40,000, by repeated visitations of
the yellow fever, about the commencement of the present century. But the
city has been exempted from any very severe infliction of this scourge
for some years past, and the amount of its population, and,
consequently, its commercial prosperity, are rapidly increasing.
The place is celebrated for its manufactures of silk, linen, and hats;
but the quantity of these articles now made is trifling, the greater
portion of the inhabitants being employed in the more profitable
occupation of preparing wines and dried fruits for the foreign markets.
Upwards of 18,000 butts of wine--sweet and dry--are annually shipped
from Malaga, of which the chief part is taken by the Americans; but a
vast quantity of the latter, under the name of _Malaga Sherry_, finds
its way also into the cellars of "_the trade_" in England; whence, after
undergoing a simple metonymical process, it flows down the public throat
under its new name of "old brown," or, perchance, "curiously old dry
_Sherry_."
The cured fish of Malaga, though not so celebrated as in the gastronomic
days of ancient Rome, continues nevertheless to be a profitable branch
of its trade; anchovies being annually exported from thence, to the
amount of 20,000 quintals.
The export of olive oil is also very great, the average quantity being
about 10,000 _arrobas_ per annum. But, perhaps, the most profitable
article of produce shipped from Malaga is fruit--almonds, oranges, and
raisins; the preparation of which costs little, whilst they are always
sure to find a market and fetch a good price. The quantity exported is
enormous.
The harbour of Malaga is artificially formed by a stone pier, that,
protruding upwards of a quarter of a mile into the sea, screens it
perfectly from the prevailing easterly gales. In the opposite direction
it is nearly as effectually sheltered by the coast itself, which bends
for some distance to the S.W. So that, in fact, the anchorage is exposed
only to a due south wind, which, besides being one that seldom blows in
this part of the Mediterranean, cannot, from the proximity of the
African shore, occasion a heavy swell.
The depth of water inside the mole is not sufficient to allow line of
battle ships to lie there; and the port is otherwise inconvenient, from
the difficulty of "making" it, when the wind is blowing strong on shore.
But it is an excellent place of refuge for steamers, which need not
apprehend so much the danger of getting on a lee shore. A light-house
stands on the pier head, and the entrance of the harbour is guarded by
several batteries.
The society of Malaga is very changeable. During the constitutional
frenzy, the principal inhabitants were extremely liberal in their
entertainments, as well as in their ideas; were fond of bull-fights,
dancing, singing, _ponch y huevos_,[126] and even, because it was
English, of bottled porter. But a sad change afterwards came over them.
These festive meetings were, on the return of absolutism, deemed vulgar,
democratical, and _illegitimate_; and a more dull and gloomy city than
Malaga, after the star of liberty had set, can hardly be imagined. I
speak, of course, of the Spanish portion of the inhabitants only. The
foreign merchants of the place have at all times been, and still
continue to be, noted for hospitality.
Most of the leading men of the city have country houses, to which they
retire with their families during the heat of summer. One of the most
delightful of these _sin cuidados_,[127] is "_El Retiro de San Tomas_,"
situated at the foot of the mountain range that bounds the vale of
Malaga to the west, and distant about eight miles from the city. This
charming retreat is said to occupy the site of a villa built by one of
the Moslem sovereigns of Malaga, and destroyed by the Spaniards in one
of the devastating inroads made upon the fertile valley of the
Guadaljorce, in the time of Ferdinand and Isabella. The present edifice,
erected shortly after the kingdom of Granada was annexed to the crown of
Spain, was also a royal seat, and so continued to be until the time of
Philip V., who bestowed it upon an illegitimate son, then bishop of the
diocese; from whom, he being of the order of San Domingo, it received
its present name, _El Retiro de San Tomas_. At his death it went to the
Dominican convent, of which he was a member, but has since passed into
other hands, and, at the period of which I write, was occupied by Mr.
Roose, the consulgeneral of Prussia, who, in favour of a letter of
introduction with which I had been furnished, gave my friends and self a
most courteous reception.
The _Retiro_ is celebrated for the rare productions and luxuriance of
its gardens, the fragrance of its orange and citron groves, the
splendour of its _jets d'eau_, and the beauty of the scenery it commands
in all directions.
After seeing all the external sights of the place, we were introduced to
one of a much more novel character in Spain, viz., a large circle of
ladies, assembled round a steaming urn, in the fragrant enjoyment of a
"cup of tea." We needed but little pressing to join in the imbibition of
the refreshing beverage, at all times acceptable, but especially in this
country, where, excepting in an apothecary's shop, the cherished leaves
of the invaluable shrub are seldom to be seen. From the _salon_ we were
conducted to a secluded part of the grounds, where another agreeable
surprise awaited us, the peasantry of the neighbourhood, decked out in
their holiday suits, having been assembled there, to do honour to the
patron saint of the village, by belabouring the _gazon vert_ with an
interminable _fandango_.
The natives of the south of Spain are passionately fond of this dance,
which, like a Scotch reel, is usually kept up as long as fingers or
lungs can be found to mark time for the exhibitors. A few notes thrummed
on the guitar are quite sufficient to set a _fandango_ on foot; or, in
default of that instrument, a monotonous ditty chaunted by one of the
bystanders answers the purpose.
Sometimes, when the vocalist is a _gracioso_,[128] his part of the
performance is by far the most entertaining, as he will improvise
couplets on the various gymnasts, who, from time to time, relieve each
other at the laborious amusement, seasoning his verses plentifully with
Andalusian wit.
This dance is certainly of Oriental parentage. It is the same, in fact,
as that of the Ghawazies of Egypt, but clothed with _South of Europe_
decency. The balancing movements of the arms are precisely the same in
both, and the contortions of the body differ but slightly, though the
Spanish dancers have more regard for decorum than the tattoued-faced
jezebels of the East. In the Fandango also, the co-operation of the
feet is at times much more active, affording a wide field for the
display of personal activity, if offering but small opportunity for the
exhibition of grace. In the end it becomes a most fatiguing affair,
either to witness or take part in; and no one, without personal
experience, can form an idea of the serious engagement he enters into,
by inviting a fair _Malagueña_ to stand up to _un poquito de Fandango_;
the _Caballero_ exposing himself to much _badinage_ should he be forced
to give in before the lady.
The _Cachucha_ is a refined species of _Fandango_; but it is seldom
witnessed in Spain, except on the stage. It is doubtless a very graceful
dance, but, as performed in its native land, _tant soit peu libre_.