DON LUIS’S NARRATIVE IS INTERRUPTED BY A BOAR—THE BATIDA RESUMED—DEPARTURE FROM SANONA—ROAD TO CASA VIEJA—THE PRIEST’S HOUSE—ADVENTURE WITH ITINERANT WINE-MERCHANTS—DEPARTURE FROM CASA VIEJA—ALCALA DE LOS GAZULES—ROAD TO XIMENA—RETURN TO GIBRALTAR.
DON LUIS’S NARRATIVE IS INTERRUPTED BY A BOAR—THE BATIDA RESUMED—DEPARTURE FROM SANONA—ROAD TO CASA VIEJA—THE PRIEST’S HOUSE—ADVENTURE WITH ITINERANT WINE-MERCHANTS—DEPARTURE FROM CASA VIEJA—ALCALA DE LOS GAZULES—ROAD TO XIMENA—RETURN TO GIBRALTAR.
THEold man, excited by the stirring recollections of the eventful times to which his narrative referred, his eyes sparkling with animation, and his words flowing somewhat more rapidly than in their wonted even current, had risen from his rocky seat, and, having transferred his fowling-piece to the left hand, was standing with his right arm extended in the direction of the scene of his former exploits, when he suddenly dropt his voice, and, after slowly, and, as it appeared to us, abstractedly, repeating his favourite expression, “Io y mi gente,” he ceased altogether to speak, and appeared transfixed to the spot. His right arm remained stretched out towards Cadiz, and hishead was turned slightly to one side, but the only motion perceptible was a tightening of the fingers round the barrel of his long gun.
As if from the effect of sympathy, Damien’s jaws—which for the last hour had been keepingHubilonin a state of tantalization, threatening to produce St. Vitus’s dance—suddenly became equally motionless; his huge proboscis was turned on one side for a moment to allow free access to his left ear, and then starting up he exclaimed, “Javali! cospetto!”[110]
“Quiet ... o!” said Don Luis, in an undertone, at the same time motioning Damien to resume his seat, “Si, es una puerca.”[111]And then making signs to his men, they rose without a word, and went stealthily off down the hill.
We now distinctly heard the grunting of a pig, and were hastily distributed in a semicircle, along the crest of the steep ridge we had selected for our resting-place. We had scarcely got into position before the cries of the beaters, and several shots fired in rapid succession, gave us notice that they had come in sight of the chase; but the sounds died away, and we were beginning to speak to each other in terms of disappointment, when a loud grunt announced the vicinity of a visiter. Hearing our voices, however, he went off at a tangent, and attempted to cross the ridge lower down; butthis was merely, as the Spaniards say, “Escapar del trueno y dar en el relampago:”[112]a sharp fire there opened upon him, and after various trips he was fairly brought to the ground. Ourcouteaux de chassewere instantly brandished, but the grisly monster, recovering himself quickly, once more got into a long trot, and, most probably, would have effected his escape, but that he was encountered and turned back by some of the dogs. Finding himself thus pressed on all sides by enemies, he again attempted to force the line of sportsmen, and a second time was made to bite the dust. He managed, nevertheless, to recover himself once more, and might, even yet possibly, have got away from us but for the dogs, which hung upon and detained him until some of the beaters came up and despatched him with their knives; not, however, until he had killed one dog outright, and desperately gored two others. The dogs showed extraordinarypluckin attacking him.
On examining the huge monster, we found he had received no less than four bullets: two in the neck, and two in the body. A fire was immediately kindled, and, having been singed, to destroy the vermin about him, he was decorated with laurel and holly, placed on the back of a mule, and, with the rest of our spoils, sent off to theCasería.
The beaters informed us, that they had seen the wild sow and four young ones, which Don Luis had sent them after; but that they had made off through the wooded valley to the right, ere they could succeed in heading and turning them up the hill.
It was decided that we should proceed immediately after them, and leave the conclusion of Don Luis’s tale for the charcoal fire-circle in the evening; but, as the rest of his story related principally to events that are well known, and was all “Santiago y cierra España,”[113]I will spare my readers the recital.
The rest of the day’s sport was poor, but the grand and ever-varying mountain scenery was of itself an ample reward for the fatigue of scrambling up the steep braes. Towards sunset we retraced our steps, thoroughly tired, to theCasería. Damien, mounting a stout mule, rode on to prepare dinner, saying, “Messieurs, sans doute, désireront goûter du chevreuil de Sanone; vado avanti con questo motivo, e subito, subito, all red-dy";[114]and, digging his heels into the animal’s side, he thereupon started off at a jog-trot, his huge feet sticking out at right angles, like the paddle-boxes of a steamer, the smoke of a cigar rolling away from his mouth, like the clouds from the steamer’s tall black funnel.
On the following morning we departed from Sanona, taking the road to Casa Vieja, and sending our game into Gibraltar.
Don Luis would on no account receive any remuneration for the use of his house, &c.; and a very moderate sum satisfied the beaters he had engaged for us.
The distance to Casa Vieja is about twelve miles, the country wild and beautiful; but the view, after gaining a high pass, about three miles from Sanona, is confined to the valley along which the road thenceforth winds, until it reaches the river Celemin. This stream is frequently rendered impassable by heavy rains. Emerging now from the woods and mountains, the road soon reaches the Barbate, which river, though running in a broad and level valley, is of a like treacherous character as the Celemin.
The little chapel and hamlet, whither we were directing our steps, now became visible, being situated under the brow of a high hill on the opposite bank of the river, and distant about a mile and a half. The road across the valley is very deep in wet weather, and the Barbate is often so swollen, as to render it necessary, in proceeding from Casa Vieja to the towns to the eastward, to make a wide circuit to gain the bridges of Vejer or Alcalà de los Gazules.
We “put up” at the house of the village priest, which adjoins the chapel. Indeed theportion of his habitation allotted to our use was under the same roof as the church, and communicated with it by a private door; and I have been credibly informed that, on some occasions, when the party of sportsmen has been large, beds have been made up within the consecrated walls of the chapel itself, whereon some of the visiters have stretched their wearied heretical limbs and rested theirachingheads. In our case there was no occasion to lead thePadreinto the commission of such a sin, since the small apartment given up to us was just able to contain four stretchers, in addition to a large table.
The priest was another “amigo mio de mucha aprec’ion”[115]of Señor Damien. Their friendship was based upon the most solid of all foundations—mutual interest; for, it being an understood thing that the accommodation, and whatever else we might require, was to be paid for at a fixed rate, both parties were interested in prolonging our stay: thePadre, to gain wherewith to shorten the pains of purgatory, either for himself or others; Damien, simply because he liked shooting better than even baking in this world.
To us also this was an agreeable arrangement, since it granted us a dispensation fromall ceremony in ordering whatever we wanted, and gave us also the privilege of making the Padre’s house our home as long as we pleased. Accordingly, finding the sport good, we passed several days here very pleasantly. The snipe and duck shooting in the marshes bordering the Barbate is excellent; francolins, bustards, plover, and partridges, are to be met with on the table-lands to the westward of the village; and the woods towards Alcalà and Vejer abound, at times, in woodcocks.
An adventure befel me during our short stay at Casa Vieja, which I relate, as affording a ludicrous exemplification of the power of flattery—an openness to which, that is to say, vanity, is certes the great foible of the Spanish character.
I had devoted one afternoon to a solitary ride to Vejer, (which town is about eleven miles from Casa Vieja,) and had proceeded some little distance on my way homewards, when, observing a very curious bird on a marshy spot by the road-side, I dismounted—knowing my pony would not stand fire—to take a shot at it. The gun missed fire, as I expected it would; for, in consequence of its owner not having been able to discharge it during the whole morning, I had lent him mine to visit the snipe-marsh, and taken his to bear me company on my ride. The explosion of the detonating cap was enough, however, to frighten my pony; hestarted—jerked the bridle off my arm—and, finding himself free, trotted away towards Casa Vieja.
I ran after him for some distance, fondly hoping that the tempting green herbage on the road-side would induce him to stop and taste, but my accelerated speed had only the effect of quickening his; from a trot he got into a canter, from a canter into a gallop; and, panting and perspiring, I was soon obliged to abandon the chase, and trust that the animal’s natural sagacity would take him back to his stable.
I had long lost sight of the runaway—for a thick wood soon screened him from my view,—and had arrived within four miles of Casa Vieja, when I met a party of very suspicious-looking characters, who, under the pretence of being itinerantwine-merchants, were carrying contraband goods about the country. They were all very noisy; all, seemingly, very tipsy; and most of them armed with guns and knives.
The van was led by a fat Silenus-looking personage, clothed in a shining goatskin, and seated on a stout ass, between two well-filled skins of wine; who saluted me with a very gracious wave of the hand, evidently to save himself the trouble of speaking; but his followers greeted me with the usual “Vaya usted con Dios;” to which one wag added, in an undertone,“y sin caballo,”[116]—a piece of wit that put them all on the grin.
Regardless of their joke, I was about to make enquiries concerning my pony, which it was evident they knew something about, when I discovered a stout fellow, bringing up the rear of the party, astride of the delinquent. Considering the disparity of force, and aware of the unserviceable condition of my weapon, I thought it best to be remarkably civil, so informing the gentleman riding my beast that I was its owner, and extremely obliged to him for arresting the fugitive’s course, I requested he would only give himself the further trouble of dismounting, and putting me in possession of my property.
This, however, he positively refused to do. “How did he know I was the owner? It might be so, and very possibly was, but I must go with him to Vejer, and make oath to the fact beforela Justicia.” This, I said, was out of the question: it was evident that the horse was mine, since I had claimed him the moment I had seen him; and as, by his own admission, he had found the animal, he must have done so out of my sight, since we were now in a thick wood. If, I added, he chose to return with me to Casa Vieja, thePadre, at whose house I was staying, would convince him of the truth of mystatement, and I would remunerate him for his trouble. But I argued in vain! “If,” he replied, “I felt disposed to give him anonza,[117]he would savemefurther trouble, but otherwise justice must take its course.”
I remarked that thehacawas not worth much more than a doubloon. “No!” exclaimed one of the party, jumping off his mule, thrusting his hand into his belt, and producingtwo, “I’ll give you these without further bargaining.”
This occasioned a laugh at my expense. I turned it off, however, by telling my friend, that if he would bring his money to Gibraltar we might possibly deal; but, as I had occasion for my pony to carry me back there, I could not at that moment conveniently part with him.
There seemed but slight chance, however, of my recovering my pony without trudging back to Vejer; and, probably, they would have ridden off, and laughed at me, after proceeding half way; or by paying a handsome ransom, which I was, in fact, unable to do, having only the value of a few shillings about me.
The dispute was getting warm, and my patience exhausted; for vain were my representations that thehaca couldbelong to no one else—that the saddle, bridle, and even the verytailof the animal, were all English. The Don kept his seat, and coolly asked, whether Ithought they could not make as good saddles, and cut as short tails, in Spain?
The party had halted during this altercation, and old Silenus, who, by his dress and position, seemed to be the head of thefirm, had taken no part in the dispute. He appeared, indeed, to be so drowsy, as to be quite unconscious of what was passing. I determined, however, to make an appeal to him, and summoning the best Spanish I could muster to my aid, called upon him as a Spanishhidalgo, a man of honour, and a person of sense, as his appearance bespoke, to see justice done me.
He had heard, I continued, in fact he hadseen, how the case stood; and was it to be believed that a foreigner travelling in Spain—perhaps the most enlightened country in the world—and trusting to the well-known national probity, should be thus shamefully plundered? An Englishman, above all others, who, having fought in the same ranks against a common enemy, looked upon every individual of the brave Spanish nation as a brother! Could a people so noted for honour, chivalry, gratitude, and every known virtue, be guilty of so bare-faced an imposition?
Oh, “flattery! delicious essence, how refreshing art thou to nature! how strongly are all its powers and all its weaknesses on thy side!”
“Baj’ usted!” grunted forth Silenus to theman mounted on my pony, accompanying the words with a circular motion of his right arm towards the earth. “Baj’ usted luego!”[118]repeated the irate leader in a louder tone, seeing that there was a disposition to resist his commands. “Mount your horse, caballero,” he continued, turning to me, “you have not over-estimated the Spanish character.”
I did not require a second bidding, but, vaulting into the vacated saddle, pushed my pony at once into a canter, replying to the man’s application for something for his trouble, by observing, that I did not reward people for merely obeying the orders of their superiors; and, kissing my hand to the fat old Satyr, rode off, amidst the laughter occasioned by the discomfiture of the dismounted knight.
On the morning fixed for our departure from Casa Vieja, Damien came to us at a very early hour—a smile breaking through an assumed cloudy expression of countenance—to report that the Barbate was so swollen by the rain which had fallen without cessation during the night, as to be no longer fordable: “Nous pouvons demeurer encore trois ou quatre jours,” he added, “car il nous reste de quoi manger—du thé, du sucre, du jambon, un bon morceau de bouilli de rosbif, et autres bagatelles; et comme il fait beau temps à présent, puede ser que havrauna entrada de gallinetas esta noche—no es verdad Señor Padre?”[119]turning to the priest, who had followed him into the room.
We were prepared for this contingency, however, and, stating that wemustgo, signified our intention of returning home by way of Alcalà de los Gazules. Damien was horror-struck. “Corpo di Bacco! Messieurs, celle là est la plus mauvaise route du pays! è infestata di cattivissima gente, ad ogni passo. No es verdad, Don Diego, que esa trocha de Alcalà allà ‘se llama el camino del infierno!” “Si, si,” replied the priestly lodging-house keeper with a nod, “tan verdad como la Santa Escritura.”[120]
Finding, however, that we were bent on departing, Don Diego went to make his bill out; and Damien, now truly alarmed, proposed that, at all events, we should take the shorter and more practicable route homewards, by way of Vejer. But the name of the other had taken our fancy, and orders were given accordingly, our departure being merely postponed until the afternoon; for, as it would be necessary to sleep at Alcalà, which is but nine miles from Casa Vieja, we agreed to have another brush at the snipes ere leaving the place.
In the afternoon we set out. At two miles from Casa Vieja the road crosses a tributary stream to the Barbate, which reached up to our saddle-girths, and then traverses some wooded hills for about an equal distance. The rest of the way is over an extensive flat.
Little is seen of Alcalà but an old square tower, and the ruined walls of its Moorish castle, in approaching it on this side. The town is built on a rocky peninsulated eminence, which, protruding from a ridge of sierra that overlooks the place to the east, stretches about a mile in a southerly direction, and, excepting along the narrow neck that connects it with this mountain-range, is every where extremely difficult of access. A road, however, winds up to the town by a steep ravine on the south-eastern side of the rugged eminence; and a good approach has also been made, though with much labour, at its northern extremity. The river Barbate washes the western side of the mound, and across it, and somewhat above the town—which is huddled together along the northern crest of the ridge—a solid stone bridge presents itself, where the roads from Casa Vieja, Medina Sidonia, and Xeres, concentrate.
The ascent from the bridge, as I have mentioned, is good, but very steep. The position of the town is most formidable; its walls, however,are all levelled; and, of the castle, the square tower, or keep, alone remains. The streets are narrow, but not so steep as we expected to find them, and they are remarkably well paved. The houses are poor, though some trifling manufactories of cloths and tanneries give the place a thriving look. Its population amounts to about 9000 souls.
ThisAlcalà receives its distinctive name of “los Gazules” (i.e. the Castle of the Gazules), from a tribe of Moors so called; but what Roman city stood here is a mere matter of conjecture.
The inn afforded but indifferent accommodation; but our host and hostess were obliging people, and very good-naturedly made over to us the olla prepared for their own supper. It was a fine specimen of the culinary art; the savoury odour alone, that exuded from the bubbling stew, drew a smile from Damien’s unusually lugubrious countenance; and, on afterwards witnessing the justice we did to its merits, he kindly wished—with a doubt-implying compression of the lips—that we might have as good an appetite to enjoy as good a supper on the following night.
We set out at daybreak, accompanied by a guide, though, I think, we could have dispensed with his services. The road enters the Serranía, immediately on leaving Alcalà, taking aneasterly direction, and ascends for five miles by a rock-bound valley, partially under cultivation, and watered by several streams, along which mills are thickly scattered. On leaving them behind, the country becomes very wild and desolate; the mountains ahead appear quite impracticable; and, long ere we reached their base, the Piedmontese march had several times resounded through the rocky gorges that encompassed us.
At length we began to scramble up towards a conical pinnacle, calledEl Peñon de Sancho,[121]which presents a perpendicular face, to the south-west, of some hundreds of feet, and whose white cap, standing out from the dark sierra behind, is a landmark all along the coast from Cipiona to Cape Trafalgar.
We soon attained a great elevation, crossing a pass between thePeñon de Sanchoand the main sierra on our left. The view, looking back towards Cadiz, is magnificent, and the scenery for the next four miles continues to be of the most splendid kind, the road being conducted along the side of the great sierraMonteron, and by the pass ofLa Brochato the sierraCantarera.
The road is by no means so bad as, from the name it bears, we were prepared to expect; in fact, there are many others in the Serranía of afar more infernal character. After riding about four hours—a distance of twelve miles—we reached a verdant little vale, enclosed on all sides by rude mountains, wherein the Celemin takes its rise, and whence it wends its way through a deep and thickly wooded ravine to the south. This gullet is called theGarganta de los Estudientes, from the circumstance, as our guide informed us, of some scholars having ventured down it who never afterwards were heard of—to which story Damien listened with great dismay.
We halted at this delightful spot for half an hour, as well to breathe our horses as to examine the contents of Damien’salforjas, who took his meal, pistol in hand, for fear of a surprise. Continuing our journey, we had to traverse some more very difficult country, the views from which were now towards Ximena, Casares, Gibraltar, and the Mediterranean; including an occasional peep of Castellar, as we advanced to the eastward.
At four miles and a half from our resting-place, the road branches into two, the left proceeding to Ximena (five miles and a half), the other leading toward Estepona, and the towns bordering the Mediterranean. Taking the latter path, in about two hours we reached the river Sogarganta, along the right bank of which isconducted the main road from Ximena to Gibraltar.
Damien’s countenance brightened on his once more finding himself in “un pays reconnu,” and, turning joyfully into the well-known track, he struck up one of his mostscherzosaarias; the heretofore dreadedBoca de Leonesand Almoraima forest (which we had yet to pass), being robbed of their terrors by the superior dangers we had safely surmounted; and, in the words of the favourite poet of his country,
"Dopo sorte si funestaSarà placida quest almaE godrà—tornata in calma—I perigli rammentar."
"Dopo sorte si funestaSarà placida quest almaE godrà—tornata in calma—I perigli rammentar."
"Dopo sorte si funestaSarà placida quest almaE godrà—tornata in calma—I perigli rammentar."
DEPARTURE FOR MADRID—CORDON DRAWN ROUND THE CHOLERA—RONDA—ROAD TO CORDOBA—TEBA—ERRONEOUS POSITION OF THE PLACE ON THE SPANISH MAPS—ITS LOCALITY AGREES WITH THAT OF ATEGUA, AS DESCRIBED BY HIRTIUS, AND THE COURSE OF THE RIVER GUADALJORCE WITH THAT OF THE SALSUS—ROAD TO CAMPILLOS—THE ENGLISH-LOVING INNKEEPER AND HIS WIFE—AN ALCALDE’S DINNER SPOILT—FUENTE DE PIEDRA—ASTAPA—PUENTE DON GONZALO—RAMBLA—CORDOBA—MEETING WITH AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
DEPARTURE FOR MADRID—CORDON DRAWN ROUND THE CHOLERA—RONDA—ROAD TO CORDOBA—TEBA—ERRONEOUS POSITION OF THE PLACE ON THE SPANISH MAPS—ITS LOCALITY AGREES WITH THAT OF ATEGUA, AS DESCRIBED BY HIRTIUS, AND THE COURSE OF THE RIVER GUADALJORCE WITH THAT OF THE SALSUS—ROAD TO CAMPILLOS—THE ENGLISH-LOVING INNKEEPER AND HIS WIFE—AN ALCALDE’S DINNER SPOILT—FUENTE DE PIEDRA—ASTAPA—PUENTE DON GONZALO—RAMBLA—CORDOBA—MEETING WITH AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
THEnext and last excursion of which I purpose extracting some account from my notebook, was commenced with the intention of proceeding from Gibraltar to Madrid, late in the autumn of the year 1833; at which time, the cholera having broken out in various parts of the kingdom of Seville, it was necessary to “shape a course” that should not subject my companion and self to the purifying process of a lazaret; a rigid quarantine system having been adopted by the other kingdoms bordering the infected territory.
We hired three horses for the journey; that is to say, for any portion of it we might choose to perform on horseback: two for ourselves, and one to carry our portmanteaus, as well as themozocharged with their care and our guidance.
We found, on enquiry, that by avoiding two or three towns lying upon the road, we could reach Cordoba without deviating much from the direct route to that city, whence we purposed continuing our journey to the capital by the diligence. We proceeded accordingly to Ronda, which place being in the kingdom of Granada, was open to us; and thither I will at once transport my readers, the road to it having already been fully described. After sojourning a couple of days at the little capital of the Serranía, comforting my numerous old and kind friends with the opinion (which the event, I was happy to find, confirmed), that the new enemy against which their country had to contend—the dreaded cholera—would not cross the mountain barrier that defended their city; we proceeded on our journey, taking the road to Puente Don Gonzalo, on the Genil, thereby avoiding Osuna, which lay upon the direct road to Cordoba, but in the infected district.
In an hour from the time of our leaving Ronda, we crossed the rocky gulley which has been noticed as traversing the fertile basin inwhich the city stands, laterally, bearing the little river Arriate to irrigate its western half, and in the course of another hour reached the northern extremity of this fruitful district. The hills here offer an easy egress from the rock-bound basin; but, though nature has left this one level passage through the mountains, art has taken no advantage of it to improve the state of the road, for a vilertrochais not to be met with, even in the rudest part of the Serranía.
The view of the rich plain and dark battlements of Ronda is remarkably fine.
After winding amongst some round-topped hills, the road at length reaches a narrow rocky pass, which closes the view of the vale of Ronda, and a long deep valley opens to the north, the mouth of which appears closed by a barren mountain, crowned by the old castle ofTeba.
The path now undergoes a slight improvement, and, after passing some singular table-rocks, and leaving the little village ofLa Cueva del Becerroon the left, reaches theventa de Virlan. We, however, had inadvertently taken a track that, inclining slightly to the right, led us into the bottom of the valley, and in about four miles (from the pass) brought us to the miserable little village ofSerrato. The proper road, from which we had strayed, keeps along the side of the hills, about half a mile off, onthe left; and upon it, and three miles from the first venta, is another, calleddel Ciego. Yet a little further on, but situated on an elevated ridge overlooking the valley, is the little town ofCañete la Real.
From Serrato our road led us to the old castle of Ortoyecar, ere rejoining the direct route; which it eventually does, about a mile before reaching the foot of the mountain of Teba.
This singular feature is connected by a very low pass with the chain of sierra on the left, and, stretching from west to east about three-quarters of a mile, terminates precipitously along the riverGuadaljorce. The road, crossing over the pass, and leaving on the right a steep paved road, that zig-zags up the mountain, winds round to the west, keeping under the precipitous sides of the ridge, and avoiding the town of Teba, which, perched on the very summit, but having a northern aspect, can only be seen when arrived at the north side of the rude mound; and there another winding road offers the means of access to the place.
The base of the mountain is, on this side, bathed by a little rivulet that flows eastward to the Guadaljorce, called theSua de Teba. It is erroneously marked on the Spanish maps as running on the south side of the ridge, but the only stream which is there to be met with, is alittle rivulet that takes its rise near Becerro and waters the valley by which we had descended; and it does not approach within a mile of Teba, but sweeps round to the eastward a little beyond the old castle of Ortoyecar, and discharges itself into the river Ardales.
The deep-sunk banks and muddy bottom of theSuda de Teba, render it impassable excepting at the bridge. This rickety structure is apparently the same which existed in the time of Rocca, who, in his “Memoirs of the War in Spain,” gives a very spirited account of the military operations of the French andserranosin this neighbourhood.
The locality of Teba is most faithfully described by that author; indeed I know no one who has given so graphic an account of this part of Spain generally.
The ascent to the town on this (the northern) side, is yet more difficult than that in the opposite direction; but the place will amply repay the labour of a visit, for the view from it is extremely fine, and the extensive ruins of its ancient defences, evidently of Roman workmanship, are well worthy of observation.
The position of Teba, with reference to other places in the neighbourhood, and to the circumjacent country, is so inaccurately given in all maps which I have seen, that the antiquaries seem quite to have overlooked it as the probablesite ofAtegua, so celebrated for its obstinate defence against Julius Cæsar.
Morales—without the slightest grounds, as far as the description of the country accords with the assumption—imaginedAteguato have stood where he maintains some ruins, “called by the country-peopleTeba la Vieja,” are to be seen between Castrò el Rio and Codoba; but, as I pointed out in the case of Ronda, and Rondala Vieja, it is absurd to suppose that anold Tebacould ever have existed, since Teba itself is a Roman town, and its present name a mere corruption of that which it bore in times past.
Other Spanish authors placeAteguaat Castro el Rio, some at Baena, some elsewhere; but almost all appear anxious to fix its site near the river Guadajoz, which they have determined, in their own minds, must be theSalsusmentioned by Hirtius.
La Martinière, with his usualinaccuracy, says, that the Guadajoz falls into theSalado: he should rather have said, that it isformedfrom the confluence ofvarious salados; for, as I have elsewhere observed, salado is a general term for all water-courses, and not the name of a river.[122]
It seems, however, probable, that the Romans gave the nameSalsusto some river impregnated with salt, which many streams in this part of Spain are; and since there is an extensive salt-lake still existing near Alcaudete, on the very margin of the Guadajoz, that river has hastily been concluded to be that of the Roman historian. But, it appears strange, if the Guadajoz be the Salsus of Hirtius, that Pliny, when describing the course of the Bœtis, and the principal streams which fell into it, should have omitted to mention that river, as being one of its affluents; for the Salsus, from the recentness of the war between Cæsar and the sons of Pompey, must have been much spoken of in Pliny’s time.
But what, to me, proves most satisfactorily that theGuadajozisnotthe Salsus, is, that it so ill agrees with the minute description given of the river by Hirtius himself;—for, in speaking of the Salsus he says,[123]“It runs through the plains, anddividesthem from the mountains, which all lie upon the side of Ategua, at about two miles’ distance from the river;” and again, “But what proved principally favourable to Pompey’s design of drawing out the war, was the nature of the country, (i. e. about Ategua) full of mountains, and extremely well adapted to encampments;”[124]and, from what again follows,it is evident that Ategua stood upon the summit of a mountain.
Now the Guadajoz nowhere runs so as todividethe plains from the mountains. Itissues fromthe mountains of Alcalà Real, many miles before reaching Castrò el Rio, and between that last-named town and Cordoba, there is no ground that can be called mountainous.
The country bordering the Guadajoz, in the lower part of its course, differs as decidedly with the statement that the neighbourhood of Ategua was “full of mountains,” if we suppose the town to have stood anywherebelowCastrò el Rio.
It is again improbable that Ategua could have stood on the site of the supposedTeba la Vieja, or any place in that neighbourhood, since it is mentioned[125]as being a great provision dépôt of the Pompeians; which would scarcely have been the case had it been within twenty miles of the city of Cordoba. And again, it is not likely that Cæsar would have commenced the campaign by laying siege to a place within such a short distance of Cordoba, since the invested town might so readily have received succour from that city, and his adversary would, by such a step, have had the advantage of combining all his forces to attack him during the progress of the siege.
Again, another objection presents itself, namely, that Ategua is represented as a particularly strong place,[126]which, from the nature of the ground in that part of the country—that is, between Castrò el Rio and Cordoba—no town could well have been; situation, rather than art, constituting the strength of towns in those days.
We will now return to Teba, the locality of which agrees infinitely better with the account of Ategua given by Hirtius, whilst the RiverGuadaljorce, which flows in its vicinity, answers perfectly his description of the Salsus; for, along its right bank a plain extends all the way to the Genil; on its left, “at two miles’ distance,” rises a wall of Sierra; and the whole country, beyond, is “full of mountains, all lying on the side of” Teba. That is to say, the mountain range continues in the same direction, and possesses the same marked character, although the Guadaljorce breaks through it ere reaching so far west as Teba; for, by a vagary of nature, this stream quits the wide plain of the Genil to throw itself into a rocky gorge, and after describing a very tortuous course, gains, at length, the vale of Malaga.
Now this very circumstance strikes me, on attentive consideration, as tending rather to strengthen than otherwise the supposition thatTeba is Ategua; for Cæsar’s army is not stated to havecrossedthe Salsus on its march from Cordoba to Ategua; from which we must conclude that Ategua was on therightbank of the river; whilst other circumstances prove that the town was some distance from the river, and encompassed by mountains.
Pompey, however, following Cæsar from Cordoba, and proceeding to the relief of Ategua,crosses the Salsus, and fixes his camp “on these mountains (i. e. the mountains ‘which all lie on the side of Ategua’) between Ategua and Ucubis, but within sight of both places,” being, as is distinctly said afterwards, separated from his adversary by the Salsus.
Thus, therefore, though his camp was on the same range of mountains as Ategua, yet he was separated from that town by a river: a peculiarity, in the formation of the ground, which suits the locality of Teba, but would be difficult to make agree with any other place.
The only very apparent objection to this hypothesis is, that Cæsar’s cavalry is mentioned as having, on one occasion, pursued the foraging parties of his adversary “almost to the very walls of Codoba.” But this was when Pompey (after his first failure to relieve Ategua) had drawn off his army towards Cordoba. It does not follow, therefore, that Cæsar’s troops pursued his adversary’s parties from Ategua, though he was still besieging that place, butit may rather be supposed that his cavalry was sent after the enemy to harass them on their march, and watch their future movements.
One might, indeed, on equally good grounds, maintain that Ategua waswithin a day’s march of Seville; since, on Pompey’s finally abandoning the field, Hirtius says,[127]“the same day he decamped, (from Ucubis, which was within sight of Ategua) and posted himself in an olive wood over against Hispalis.”
With respect to this knotty point of distance it is further to be observed, that on Cæsar’s breaking up his camp from before Cordoba, his march is spoken of as beingtowardsAtegua, implying that the two places did not lie within a day’s march of each other; and the supposition that they were more than a few leagues apart is strengthened by the place, and order in which Ategua is mentioned by the methodical Pliny; viz., amongst the cities lying between the Bœtis and the Mediterranean Sea, and next in succession toSingili,[128]which, doubtless, was on the southern bank of the Genil, towards Antequera.
The Guadaljorce has as good claims to the name ofSalsus, as any other river in the country, since the mountains about Antequera,amongst which it takes its rise, were in former days noted for the quantity of salt they produced; and though the river Guadaljorce now carries its name to the sea, yet, in the time of the Romans, such was not the case; for, in those days, by whatever name that river may have been distinguished, it was dropt on forming its junction with the Sigila, (now the Rio Grande) in thevegaof Malaga, although, of the two, the latter is the inferior stream.
The fort of Ucubis, stated by Hirtius to have been destroyed by Cæsar, we may suppose stood on the side of the mountains overlooking the Salsus or Guadaljorce, towards Antequera; and it does not seem improbable that that city is theSoricariamentioned by the same historian; forAnticaria, though noticed in the Itinerary of Antoninus, is not amongst the cities of Bœtica enumerated by Pliny.
Teba was taken from the Moors by Alphonso XI., A.D. 1340. The inhabitants are a savage-looking tribe, and boast of having kept the French at bay during the whole period of the “war of independence.”[129]
There is a tolerable venta at the foot of the hill, near the bridge, at which we baited our horses. The distance from Ronda to Teba is 21 miles; from hence to Campillos is about six;the country is undulated, and road good, crossing several brooks, some flowing eastward to the Guadaljorce, others in the opposite direction to the Genil.
Campillos is situated at the commencement of a vast track of perfectly level country, that extends all the way to the river Genil. By some strange mistake it is laid down in the Spanish maps due east of Teba, whereas it is nearly north. It is four leagues (or about seventeen miles) from Antequera, and five leagues from Osuna. It is a neat town, clean, and well-paved, and contains 1000vecinos escasos;[130]which may be reckoned at 5000 souls, six being the number usually calculated pervecino.
Campillos lies just within the border of the kingdom of Seville, and was, therefore, on forbidden ground; since, had we entered it, our clean bills of health would have been thereby tainted. We were consequently obliged to skirt round the town at a tether of several hundred yards. I regretted this much, for the place contains an excellentposada, bearing the—to Protestant ears—somewhat profane sign of “Jesus Nazarino,” and its keepers were old cronies of mine, our friendship having commenced some years before under rather peculiarcircumstances, viz., in travelling from Antequera to Ronda, my horse met with an accident which obliged me to halt for the night at Campillos. Leaving to my servant the task of ordering dinner at the inn, I proceeded on foot to examine the town, and gain, if possible, some elevated spot in its vicinity whence I could obtain a good view of the country, being desirous to correct the mistake before alluded to, in the relative positions of Teba and Campillos on the maps.
Having found a point suited to this purpose, from whence I could see both Teba and thePeñon de los Enamorados, (a remarkable conical mountain near Antequera,) I drew forth a pocket surveying compass, and took the bearings of those two points, as well as of several other conspicuous objects in the neighbourhood.
These ill-understood proceedings caused the utmost astonishment to a group of idlers, who, at a respectful distance, but with significant nods and mysterious whisperings, were narrowly watching my operations. These concluded, and the result of my observations committed to my pocket-book, I took a slight outline sketch of the bold range of mountains that stretches towards Granada, and returned to the inn.
On my first arrival there, I had merely addressed the usual compliment of the country to the innkeeper and his wife, and now, repeating my salutation to the lady—who only was present—I seated myself at the fire-place of the common apartment, and began writing in my pocket-book, replying very laconically to her various attempts at conversation; and at length obtaining no immediate answer to another endeavour todraw me out, she said, addressing herself, “no entiende,”[131]and offered no further interruptions to my scribbling.
I confess to the practice of a little deceit in the matter, as my answers certainly must have led her to believe that I was a verytyroat the Spanish vocabulary—a fancy in which I used often to indulge the natives when I wished to shirk conversation.
Soon afterwards thePosaderocame in, and a whispered communication took place between him and his spouse, which gradually acquiringtone, I at length was able to catch distinctly, and heard the following conversation.
“You are quite certain he does not understand Spanish?” said mine host.
“Not a syllable,” replied his helpmate.
“He is about no good here, wife, that I can tell you.”
“There does not appear to be much mischief in him.”
“We must not trust to looks; I was at the chapel of the Rosario just now, and he walked up there, took an instrument from his pocket,marked down all the principal points of the country, and then drew them in that little book he is now writing in ... are you quite sure he does not understand Spanish?—I observed him smile just now.”
“No tienes cuidado,”[132]replied the wife; “I have tried him on all points.”
“Depend upon it he ismapeando el pais,”[133]resumed the husband.
“I think you ought forthwith to give notice of his doings to theJusticia,” answered the lady.
“Ay, and lose a good customer by having him taken to prison!” rejoined the patriotic innkeeper; “time enough to do that in the morning after he has paid his bill; but as to the propriety of giving information wife, I agree with you perfectly.”
“He must be one of the rascallygavachosfrom Cadiz,” (a French garrison at this time occupied that fortress,) “but what right has he to take his notes of ourpueblo?[134]I thought of questioning the servant, who does speak a few words of Spanish, before he took the horses to the smithy, but Don Guillelmo came in and put it out of my head. Suppose I make another attempt to find out from himself what brings him here?"
“Do so,” said her lord and master; and, with this permission, she advanced towards me with a very gracious smile, andarticulatingevery syllable most distinctly, in the hope of making her interrogation perfectly intelligible, “begged to know if my worship was a Frenchman.”
“Yo,” said I, pointing to myself, as if I did not clearly understand her; “nix.”
“Ingles?” demanded she, returning to the charge.
“Si,” replied I, with a nod affirmative.
“Valga mi Dios!” exclaimed she, turning to her husband; “he is English! how delighted I am! what a time it is since I saw an Englishman! how can we make him comfortable?”
“Poco a poco,”[135]observed the inn-keeper—“English or French he has no business to bemapeandoour country, and the Alcalde ought to know of it.”
“Disparate!”[136]exclaimed the wife; “what does hismapeandosignify if he is an Englishman? are they not our best friends?[137]Is it not the same as if a Spaniard were doing it, only that it will be better done?”
“Very true,” admitted mine host; “they have, indeed, been our friends, and will soon again, I trust, give us a proof of their friendship,by assisting to drive these French scoundrels across the Pyrenees, and allowing us to settle our own differences.”
Pocketing my memorandum book, I now rose from my seat and addressing the landlady, “con gentil donayre y talante,”[138]as Don Quijote says, asked, in the best Castillian I could put together, when it was probable I should have dinner, as from having been the greater part of the morning on horseback, I was not only very hungry, but should be glad to retire early to my bed.
Never were two people more astonished than mine host and his spouse at this address. Had I detected them in the act of pilfering my saddlebags, they could not have looked more guilty. They offered a thousand apologies, but seemed to think the greatest affront they had put upon me was that of mistaking me for a Frenchman.
“I ought at once to have known you were no braggartgavacho,” said the landlord, “by your not making a noise on entering the house—calling for every thing and abusing every body—How do you think one of these gentry, who came into Spain asfriends, to tranquillize the country, behaved to ourAlcalde? The Frenchman wanted a billet, and finding the office shut, went to theAlcalde’shouse for it. TheAlcaldewas at dinner with a couple of friends; he beggedthe officer to be seated, saying he would send for theEscribanoand have a billet made out for him—‘And am I to be kept waiting for your clerk?’ said the Frenchman; ‘a pretty joke, indeed.’ ‘He will be here in an instant,’ said theAlcalde; ‘pray have a little patience, and be seated.’ ‘Patience, indeed!’ exclaimed the other; ‘make the billet out directly yourself, or I’ll pull the house about your ears.’ ‘Juicio!señor,’ replied the Mayor; ‘do you not see that I am at dinner?’ ‘What are you atnow?’ said the Frenchman; and, laying hold of one corner of the tablecloth, he drew it, plates, dishes, glasses, and every thing, off the table. This is the way our Frenchfriendsbehave to us!”
I now satisfied the worthy couple that their fears of mischief arising from my “mapeando el pais,” were quite groundless; and mine host showed great intelligence in comprehending what I wished to correct in the Spanish map; the error in which he saw at once, when I pointed to the setting sun; his wife standing by and exclaiming “que gente tan fina los Ingleses!”[139]
No advantage was taken of the knowledge ofmycountry in making outthe bill, and I departed next morning with their prayers that I might travel in company with all the saints in the calendar.
The direct road from Campillos to Cordoba is by way of La Rodd; but, in the present instance, it was necessary to avoid that town, and proceed toLa Fuente de Piedra, which is situated a few miles to the eastward, and without the sanitory circle drawn round the cholera.
The distance from Campillos to this place is two long leagues, which may be reckoned nine miles.
La Fuente de Piedrais a small village, of about sixty houses, surrounded with olive-grounds, and abounding in crystal springs. The medicinal virtues of one of these sources (which rises in the middle of the place) led to the building of the village; and the painful disease for which in especial this fountain is considered a sovereign cure, has given its name to the place. We arrived very late in the evening, and found theposadamost miserable.
On leavingLa Fuente de Piedrawe took the road toPuente Don Gonzalo, and at about three miles from the village crossed the great road from Granada to Seville, which is practicable for carriages the greater part, butnot allthe way; a little beyond this theSierra de Esteparises on the left of the route, to the height of several hundred feet above the plain. The town of Estepa is not seen, being on the western side of the hill; it is supposed to be the Astapa of theRomans, the horrible destruction of which is related by Livy.
The inhabitants, on the approach of Scipio, aware of the exasperated feelings of the Romans towards them, piled all their valuables in the centre of the forum, placed their wives and children upon the top, and leaving a few of their young men to set fire to the pile in the event of their defeat, rushed out upon the Roman army. They were all killed, the pile was lighted, and a heap of ashes was the only trophy of their conquerors.
The Roman historian says, the people of Astapa “delighted in robberies.” I wonder if he thought his countrymen exempt from similar propensities!
In three hours we reached Cazariche. The road merely skirts the village, being separated from it by an abundant stream, which, serving to irrigate numerous gardens and orchards, renders the last league of the ride very agreeable, which otherwise, from the flatness of the country to the eastward, would be uninteresting. This rivulet is calledLa Salada; but its volume is far too small to make one suppose for a moment that it is theSalsus.
At five miles from Cazariche, keeping along the left bank of the Salada the whole distance, but not crossing it, as marked on the maps, the road reaches Miragenil. This is a small village,situated on the southern bank of the Genil, and communicating, by means of a bridge, withPuente Don Gonzalo.
The river here forms the division between the kingdoms of Seville and Cordoba; and the two governments not having agreed as to the superior merits of wood or stone, one-half the bridge is built of the former, the other half of the latter material.
Puente Don Gonzalo stands on a steep acclivity, commanding the bridge and river. It is a town of some consideration, containing several manufactories of household furniture, numerous mills, and a population of 6000 souls.
Florez, on the authority of astonefoundnearCazariche (which he calls Casaliche), whereon the wordVENTIPOwas inscribed, supposedVentisponte,[140]to have been situated somewhere in the vicinity of Puente Don Gonzalo. But if this stone had beencarriedto Cazariche, it may have been taken there from any other point of the compass as well as from that in which Puente Don Gonzalo is situated.
Other authorities suppose this town to be on the site of Singilis; but that place, as already stated, has been pretty clearly proved to have been nearer Antequera.
The “provechasos aguas del divino Genil,”[141]after cleansing the town of Puente Don Gonzalo,are turned to the best possible account, in irrigating gardens and turning mill-wheels; and the road to Cordoba, after proceeding for about a mile along the verdant valley that stretches to the westward, ascends the somewhat steep bank which pens in the stream to the north, and for four hours wanders over a flat uninteresting country to Rambla; passing, in the whole distance of fifteen miles, but two running streams, three farm-houses, and the miserable village of Montalban. This latter is distant about a mile and a half from Rambla.
We saw but little of this town, having arrived late at night, and departed from it at an early hour on the following morning; but it is of considerable size, and situated on the north side of a steep hill. We found the inn excessively dirty and exorbitantly dear; indeed it may be laid down as a general rule with Spanish as well as Swiss inns, that the charges are high in proportion to thebadnessof the fare and accommodation.
The ground in the vicinity of Rambla is planted chiefly with vines, and but two short leagues to the eastward is situated Montilla, where, in the estimation of Spaniards, the best wine of the province is grown. It is extremely dry; and, as I have mentioned before, gives its name to the Sherry calledAmontillado.
Rambla is just midway between Puente DonGonzalo and Cordoba, viz. sixteen miles from each. The country is hilly, and mostly under tillage, but where its cultivators reside puzzles one to guess, as there is not a house on the road in the whole distance, and but two towns visible from it, viz. Montemayor and Fernan Nuñez, both within six miles of Rambla.
The first-named of these places disputes with Montilla the honour of being the Roman city ofUlía, the only inland town of Bœtica that held out for Cæsar against the sons of Pompey, previous to his arrival in the country.[142]It appears doubtful[143]whetherUlíais mentioned by Pliny, but it is noticed in the Roman Itinerary (Gadibus Cordubam) as eighteen miles from Cordoba, a distance that agrees better with Montilla than Montemayor; indeed the former almost declares itself in the very name it yet bears,Montilla; the doublelin Spanish having the liquid sound ofli, making it a corruption ofMont Ulía.
At about four miles from Cordoba the Guadajoz, or river of Castro, is crossed by fording, and between it and the Guadalquivír the ground is broken by steep hills. The road falls into theArrecifefrom Seville, on reaching the suburb on the left bank of the river.
We took up our abode at thePosada de la Mesangería; a particularly comfortable house, as Spanish inns go, that had been opened for the accommodation of the diligence travellers since my former visit to the city. Thepatio, ornamented with a bubbling fountain of icy-cold water, and shaded with a profusion of all sorts of rare creepers and flowering shrubs, afforded a cool retreat at all hours of the day; which, though we were in the month of October, was very acceptable.
Whilst seated at breakfast, under the colonnade that encompasses the court, the morning after our arrival, the master of the inn waited upon us to know if we required avalet de placeduring our sojourn at Cordoba, as a very intelligent old man, who spoke French like a native, and was in the habit of attending uponcaballeros forasteros[144]in the above-named capacity, was then in the house, and begged to place his services at our disposition.
I replied, that having before visited his city, I considered myself sufficiently acquainted with itssightsto be able to dispense with this, otherwise useful, personage’s attendance; but our host seemed so desirous that we should employ the old man, “We might have little errands to send him upon—some purchases to make; in fact, we should find the Tio Blasso useful in any capacity, and it would be such an act of charity to employ him,"—that we finally acceded to his proposal, and theTiowas accordingly ushered in.
He was a tall, and, though emaciated, still erect old man, whose tottering gait, and white and scanty hairs, would have led to the belief that his years had already exceeded the number usually allotted to the life of man, but that his deep-sunk eyes were shaded by dark and beatling brows, and yet sparkled occasionally with the fire of youth; proving that hardships and misfortunes had brought him somewhat prematurely to the brink of the grave.
It struck me at the first glance that I had seen him before, but when, and under what circumstances, I could not recall to my recollection. After some conversation, as to what had been his former occupation, &c., he remarked, addressing himself to me, “I think,Caballero, that this is not the first time we have met—many years have elapsed since—many (to me) most eventful years, and they have wrought great changes in my appearance. And, indeed, some little difference is perceptible also in yours, for you were a mere boy then; but, still, time has not laid so heavy a hand on you as on the worn-out person of him who stands before you, and in whom you will, doubtless, have difficulty in recognizing the recklessBlas Maldonado!"
Time had, indeed, effected great changes in him, morally as well as physically; for not only had the powerful, well-built man, dwindled into a tottering, emaciated driveller, but the daring, impious bandit, had become a weak and superstitious dotard.
My curiosity strongly piqued to learn how changes so wonderful had been brought about, we immediately engaged theTioto attend upon us; and, during the few days circumstances compelled us to remain at Cordoba, I elicited from him the following account of the events which had chequered his extraordinary career since we had before met.