C. Rochfort? Scott

SOCIETY OF SEVILLE—SPANISH WOMEN—FAULTS OF EDUCATION—EVILS OF EARLY MARRIAGES, AND MARRIAGES DE CONVENANCE—ENVIRONS OF SEVILLE—TRIANA—SAN JUAN DE ALFARACHE—SANTI PONCE—RUINS OF ITALICA—ITALICA NOT SO ANCIENT A CITY AS HISPALIS—YOUNG PIGS AND THE MUSES—DEPARTURE FROM SEVILLE—THE MARQUES DE LAS AMARILLAS—WEAKNESS, DECEIT, AND INJUSTICE OF THE LATE KING OF SPAIN—ALCALA DE GUADAIRA—UTRERA—OBSERVATIONS ON THE STRATEGICAL IMPORTANCE OF THIS TOWN—MORON—MILITARY OPERATIONS OF RIEGO—APATHY OF THE SERRANOS DURING THE CIVIL WAR—OLBERA—REMARKS ON THE ITINERARY OF ANTONINUS.

THE society of Seville is divided into nearly as many circles as there are degrees in the Mohammedans paradise. In former days, the bounds of each were marked with heraldic precision, and those of the innermost were guarded as jealously from trespass as the precincts of a royal forest, but of late years politics have materially injured the fences. The fine edged bridge of Sirat is no longer difficult of passage, and a foreigner, in especial, provided some mufti of the Aristocracy but holds out his hand to him, may reach the seventh heaven without the slightest chance of stumbling over his pedigree.

The English, above all other foreigners, are favourably received at Seville, for the nobles of the South of Spain, not being so much under court influence as those of the provinces lying nearer the capital, are by no means distinguished for their love of absolutism. With some few, indeed, the want of courtly sunshine has engendered excessive liberalism; but the nobles of Andalusia generally may be considered as favourably disposed towards a limited monarchy—that is, are of moderate, or what they term English, politics.

Of persons of such a political bias is the first circle of the society of Seville composed, and it is, perhaps, in every respect, the best in the kingdom. It is adorned by many men of highly cultivated talents, and much theoretical information, who, with a sincere love of country at their hearts, are yet not arrogantly blind to the faults of its former and present institutions; and who, removed to a certain extent from the baneful influence of a corrupt court, are proportionably free from the demoralising vices which distinguish the society of the upper classes in the capital.

The ladies of the exclusive circle are, it must needs be confessed, deficient in education: but they possess great natural abilities, a wonderful flow of language, and—excepting that they will pitch their voices so high—peculiarly fascinating manners.

The morals of Spanish women have usually been commented upon with unsparing severity; it strikes me, however, that the moral principle is as strong in them as in the natives of any other country or climate. The constancy of Spanish women, when once their affections have been placed on any object, is, indeed, proverbial, and if they are but too frequently faithless to the marriage vow, the source of corruption may be traced, first, to the lamentable religious education they receive—since the demoralizing doctrines of the efficacy of penance and absolution in the remission of sins furnish them at all times with a ready palliative; and, secondly, to the habit of contracting early marriages, and, especially, marriages de convenance, by which, in their anxiety to see their daughters well established, parents—and above all Spanish parents—are apt to sacrifice, not only their children’s happiness, but their honour.

Of all the evils under which Spanish society labours, this last is the most serious as well as most apparent. A marriage of this kind, in nine cases out of ten, tends to demorality. It is followed by immediate neglect on the part of the husband, whose affections were already placed elsewhere when he gave his hand at the altar; and is soon regarded by the wife merely as a civil compact, to which the usages of society oblige her to subscribe. With her, however, this state of things had not been anticipated. The innate, all-powerful feeling, love, had, up to this period, lain dormant within her breast—for in Spain, if the extremely early age at which females marry did not of itself warrant this supposition, the little intercourse which, under any circumstances, an unmarried woman (of the upper classes of society) has with the world, naturally leads to the conclusion that her affections had not previously been engaged; she expects, therefore, to receive from her husband the same boundless affection that her inexperienced heart is disposed to bestow on him;—and what is the inevitable consequence? Disappointed in her cherished hope of occupying the first place in her husband’s affections, her innocence is tarnished at the very outset, by thus acquiring the knowledge of his turpitude; she turns from him with disgust; and her better feelings, seared by jealousy and wounded pride, seeks out some other object on whom to bestow the love slighted by him, who pledged himself to cherish it.

Thrown thus at an early age upon the world, without the least experience in its ways, with strong passions to lead, and evil examples to seduce her, is it surprising that a Spanish wife should wander from the path of virtue, and that she should hold constancy to her lover more sacred than fidelity to a husband who quietly submits to see another possess her affections?

The understanding once established, however, that jealousy is not to disturb the mÉnage, the parties live together with all the outward appearances of mutual esteem, and inflict the history of their private bickerings only upon their favoured friends.

The Spaniards of all classes have great conversational powers, but even those of the upper are sadly deficient in general information. Their knowledge of other nations is picked up entirely from books, and those books mostly old ones; for few works are now written in their own language, and still fewer are translated from those of other countries; so that what little knowledge of mankind they possess is of the last century.

Cards help out the conversation at the Tertulias of the first circle. Dancing, forfeits, and other puerile games, are the resources of the rest. Balls and suppers are funciones reserved for great occasions, and dinner parties are of equally rare occurrence.

In the entertainments of the nobility, the French style prevails even to the wines, but the national dish, the olla, generally serves as a prelude, and may be considered the “piece de resistance” of the interminable dinner. Toothpicks (!!) and coffee are handed round, and the party breaks up, to seek in the siesta renewed powers of digestion.

To those, however, who think exercise more conducive to health, the environs of Seville hold out plenty of attractions; and, if the weather be too hot for either walking or riding, the city contains hackney coaches and calesas without number, by means of which (most of the roads in the vicinity being level) the various interesting points may be reached without difficulty or inconvenience.

The places most deserving of a visit in the immediate environs of Seville, are the villages of San Juan de Alfarache and Santi Ponce; near the latter of which are the ruins of Italica.

Both these places are situated on the right bank of the GuadalquivÍr; the former, about three miles below Seville, the latter a little more distant, up the stream. The road to both traverses the long town of Triana, which contains nothing worthy of observation but a sombre gothic edifice, where the high altar of Popish bigotry, the Inquisition, was first raised in the Spanish dominions. It has long, however, been converted to another purpose, never, let us hope, to be again applied to that which for so many ages disgraced Christianity.

By many Triana is supposed to be the Osset of Pliny, but I think without sufficient reason, as it does not seem probable that a place merely divided from Seville by a narrow river should have been distinguished by him as a distinct city. The words of Pliny, “ex adverso oppidum Osset,” imply certainly that Osset stood on the opposite bank of the river to Hispalis, but not that it was situated immediately opposite, as some authors have translated it. It is yet more evident that AlcalÀ de Guadaira cannot be Osset, as supposed by Harduin, since that town is on the same side of the GuadalquivÍr as Seville.

Florez imagines Osset to have been where San Juan de Alfarache now stands,[53] near which village traces of an ancient city have been discovered; and the position occupied by an old Moorish castle, on the edge of a high cliff, impending over the river, and commanding its navigation, seems clearly to indicate the site of a Roman station, since the Saracens usually erected their castles upon the foundations of the dilapidated fortresses of their predecessors. The village of San Juan de Alfarache stands at the foot of the before-mentioned cliff, compressed between it and the GuadalquivÍr; which river, making a wide sweep to the north on leaving Seville, here first reaches the roots of the chain of hills bounding the extensive plain through which it winds its way to the sea, and is by them turned back into its original direction.

Of the Moorish fortress little now remains but the foundation walls; the stones of the superstructure having probably been used to build the church and convent that now occupy the plateau of the hill. The view from thence is quite enchanting, embracing a long perspective of the meandering GuadalquivÍr and its verdant plain, the whole extent of the shining city, and the distant blue outline of the Ronda mountains.

The hills rising at the back of the convent are thickly covered with olive trees, the fruit of which is the most esteemed of all Spain: and, indeed, those who have eaten them on the spot, if they like the flavour of olive rather than of salt and water, would say they are the best in the world. The fruit is suffered to hang upon the tree until it has attained its full size, and consequently will not bear a long journey. For the same reason, it will not keep any length of time, as the salt in which it is preserved cannot penetrate to a sufficient depth in its oily flesh to secure it from decay. Let no one say, however, that he dislikes olives, until he has been to San Juan de Alfarache.

Retracing our steps some way towards Seville, we reach the great road leading from that city into Portugal by way of Badajoz; and, continuing along the plain for about five miles, we arrive at the priory of Santi Ponce, situated on the margin of the GuadalquivÍr, and close to the ruins of Italica. So complete has been the destruction of this once celebrated city, the birth-place of three Roman Emperors, that, but for the vestiges of its spacious amphitheatre, one would be inclined to doubt whether any town could possibly have stood upon the spot; the more so as the vicinity of Seville seems, at first sight, to render it improbable that two such large cities would have been built within so short a distance of each other.

Opinions on the subject of the relative antiquity of these two cities are, however, very various; for, whilst some Spaniards are to be found, who maintain that Hispalis was founded long before Italica, and some who, declaring, on the other hand, that the two cities never existed together, insist on calling Italica, Sevilla la Vieja;[54] others there are who suppose that the two cities flourished contemporaneously for a considerable period, and that Hispalis (the more modern of the two) eventually caused the other’s destruction.

This last hypothesis might readily be received, since, from the influence of the tide being felt at Seville and not at Santi Ponce, the situation of the former is so much more favourable for trade than that of the latter; but that, setting aside the traditionary authority of Seville having been founded by Hispalis, one of the companions of Hercules, we have the testimony of several writers to prove that Hispalis was a place of consequence when Italica must have been yet in its infancy. For the antiquity of this latter is never carried further back than the 144th Olympiad, i.e. 200 B.C. Now, Hispalis is mentioned by Hirtius, at no very great period after that date, as a city of great importance; whereas, Italica is noticed by him (proving it to have been a distinct place) merely as a walled town in the vicinity.[55]

The two places are again mentioned separately by Pliny; the one, however, as a large city, giving its name to a vast extent of country—the Conventus Hispalensis—the other as one of the towns within the limits of that city’s jurisdiction.

The foundation of Italica being fixed, therefore, about two hundred years before the Christian era, and attributed to the veteran soldiers of P. C. Scipio; that is to say, immediately after the expulsion of the Carthagenians from the country; it may naturally be concluded that the Romans, who had not come to Spain merely to drive out their rivals, would, with their usual foresight, have planted a colony of their own people to overawe the principal city of a country they intended to bring under subjection; and hence, that Seville existed long before Italica was founded.

The amphitheatre, which alone remains to prove the former grandeur of Italica, is of a wide oval shape. The dimensions of its arena are 270 feet in its greatest diameter, 190 in its least. It rests partly against a hill, a circumstance that has tended materially to save what little remains of it from destruction; but, nevertheless, only nine tiers of seats have offered a successful resistance to the encroachments of the plough. Few of the vomitorios can be traced, but it would appear that there were sixteen. Some of the caverns in which the wild beasts were confined are in tolerable preservation.

From the ruined amphitheatre we were conducted to a kind of pound, enclosed by a high mud wall, and secured by a stout gate, wherein we were informed other reliques of Italica were preserved. There was some little delay in obtaining the key of this museo, the custodio being at his siesta; and, hearing the grunting of pigs within, we began to doubt whether it could contain any thing worth detaining us under a broiling sun to see. Unwilling, however, to be disappointed, we clambered with some little difficulty to the top of the wall, and, horresco referens! beheld an old sow rubbing her back against that of the Emperor Hadrian, whilst the profane snouts of her young progeny were grubbing at the tesselated cheeks of Clio and Urania, the only two of the immortal Nine whose features could be distinctly traced in an elaborate mosaic pavement that covered the greater part of the court.

Several fragments of statues were strewed about; but all were in too mutilated a state to excite the least interest. The feeling with which we contemplated the beautiful, outraged pavement, was one of unmitigated disgust; for the workmanship of such parts of it as remained intact was of the most delicate description, the stones not being more than one fifth of an inch square, and, as far as we could judge, put together so as to form a picture of great merit. I fear that this valuable specimen of the art has long since been altogether lost, for, at the time of which I write, the stones were lying in heaps about the yard, and the pavement seemed likely to be subjected to a continuance of the mining operations of the “swinish multitude,” as well as to exposure to the destructive ravages of the elements.

I could not refrain from expostulating with the owner of the piggery (when he at length made his appearance) at this, in the words of Don Quijote, puerco y extraordinario abuso. He was a wag, however, and answered my “Why do you keep your pigs here?” precisely in the words that an Irish peasant replied to a very similar question, viz., “But am I to have the company of the pig?” put to him by a friend of mine, who had a billet for a night’s lodging on his cabin: to wit, “No hay toda comodidad?” “Isn’t there every convey’nance?”

We then attempted to persuade him that the pigs being young and inexperienced would probably kill themselves by swallowing the little square stones piled up against the walls, when the supply of Indian corn failed them. “No, SeÑor,” he replied; “el Puerco es un animal que tiene mas sesos que una casa.” “The hog is an animal that has more (sesos) brains (or bricks) than a house.” And, indeed, the discrimination of the animal is wonderful, for, whilst we were yet arguing the case, one of the little brutes grubbed up the entire left cheek of Calliope, to get at a grain of corn that had fallen into one of the numerous crow’s feet with which unsparing Time had furrowed the Muse’s animated countenance. Without further observation, therefore, we abandoned the chaste daughters of Mnemosyne to their ignominious fate, remounted our horses, and bent our steps homewards.

The foreigner who visits Seville, under any circumstances, cannot but find it a most delightful place, and our short sojourn at it was rendered particularly agreeable by the kindness and hospitality of the Marques de las Amarillas, who, independent of the pleasure it at all times affords him to show his regard for the English, whom he considers as his old brothers in arms, was pleased to express peculiar gratification at having an opportunity of evincing his sense of some trifling attentions that it had been in my power to pay his only son, when, as well as himself, driven by political persecution to seek a refuge within the walls of Gibraltar.

The life of this distinguished nobleman, now Duke of Ahumado, has been singularly varied by the smiles and frowns of fortune, and furnishes a melancholy proof of the little that can be effected by talents, however exalted, and patriotism, however pure, in a country writhing, like Spain, under the combined torments of religious and political revolution. For, the more sincere a lover of his country he who puts himself forward, having aught to lose, may be, the more he becomes an object of distrust and envy to the many, who seek in change but their own aggrandizement. To him who would take the helm of affairs in times of revolution, an unscrupulous conscience is yet more necessary than the possession of extraordinary talents.

The Marques de las Amarillas, well known in the “Peninsular War” as General Giron, was appointed minister at war in the first cabinet formed by Ferdinand VII. after he had sworn to the Constitution. A sincere lover of rational liberty, and a strong advocate for a mixed form of government, the Marques, himself a soldier, saw the danger of permitting the very existence of the government to be at the mercy of the undisciplined rabble army, that, seduced by its democratic leaders for their own private ends, had effected the revolution; and had projected a plan for its partial reduction and entire reorganization.

The Exaltados, however, fearful lest the establishment of a rational form of government should result from a project which certainly would have had the effect of allaying the existing agitation, accused the Marques of a plot to subvert the constitution, and restore Ferdinand to a despotic throne; and he was obliged to save himself from the impending danger by a rapid flight, and to take refuge within the walls of Gibraltar. There he remained during the period of misrule that preceded the invasion of the country by the Duc d’AngoulÊme in 1823; suffering, during the feeble struggle that ensued, from the most painfully conflicting feelings that could possibly enter a patriot’s breast. For, aware that his unhappy country had but the sad alternative of a continuance in anarchy and misery, or of bending the neck to foreign dictation, and receiving back the cast-off yoke of a despot, he could take no active part in a struggle which, end as it would, was fraught with mischief to his native land.

It ended, as he had always foreseen, in the restoration of the despicable monarch, who possessed neither the courage to draw the sword in defence of what he conceived to be his rights, nor the virtue to adhere to the word pledged to his people; who by his contemptible intrigues exposed, and by his vacillating plans sacrificed, his most devoted adherents; who with his dying breath bequeathed the scourge of civil war to his wretched country; whose very existence, in fine, was as hurtful to Spain, as is the odour of the upas-tree to the incautious traveller who rests beneath its shade.

The contemptible Ferdinand, restored to his throne, forbade the Marques de las Amarillas to present himself in the capital—the crime of having held office in a constitutional cabinet being considered quite sufficient to warrant the infliction of such a punishment. Some ten years afterwards, however, he was, through the influence of his relatives, the Dukes of Baylen and Infantado, appointed captain-general of Andalusia, and on the death of Ferdinand was called to Madrid, to form one of the Council of Regency.

He again held a distinguished post in the Torreno administration, and again fell under the displeasure of the anarchists—his talents had less influence than the halbert of Serjeant Gomez.

These are not merely “cosas de EspaÑa,” however, but have been, and will be, those of every country where the hydra, democracy, is cherished. God grant that our own may be preserved from the many-headed monster!

We quitted Seville only “upon compulsion” (our leave of absence being limited), making choice of a road which, though, by visiting Moron and Ronda, it proceeds rather circuitously to Gibraltar, traverses a more romantic and picturesque portion of the SerranÍa than any other. The most direct of the numerous roads that offer themselves between Seville and the British fortress, is by way of Dos Hermanos, Coronil, Ubrique, and Ximena.

The first place lying upon the road we selected is AlcalÀ de Guadaira. This town is distant about eight miles from Seville (though generally marked much less on the maps), and is the first post station on the great road from Seville to Madrid.

For the first five miles from Seville the road traverses a gently undulated country, that is chiefly planted with corn; but, on drawing near AlcalÀ, the features of the ground become more strongly marked, and are clothed with olive and other trees; and amongst the hills that encompass the town rise the copious springs which, led into a conduit, supply Seville with water. AlcalÀ administers to yet another of the great city’s most material wants, for it almost exclusively furnishes Seville with bread, whence it has received the agnomen of “de los panaderos” (of the bread-makers), as well as that of “de Guadaira,” which it takes from the river that runs in its vicinity. The numerous mills situated along the course of this stream, by furnishing easy means of grinding corn, probably led the inhabitants of AlcalÀ to engage in the extensive kneading and baking operations which are carried on there.

The immediate approach to the town is by a narrow gorge between two steep hills; that on the right, which is the more elevated of the two, and very rugged and difficult of access, is washed on three sides by the Guadaira, and crowned with extensive ruins of a Moorish fortress. The town itself is pent in between these two hills and the river, and, there can be but little doubt, occupies the site of some Roman city, its situation being quite such as would have been chosen by that people.

That it is not on the site of Osset is, as I have before observed, quite evident, and its present name, being completely Moorish, furnishes no clue whatever to discover that which it formerly bore. Some have supposed it is Orippo; but inscriptions found at Dos Hermanos determine that place to be on the ruins of the said Roman town. Possibly—for such a supposition accords with the order in which the towns of the county of Hispalis are mentioned by Pliny—AlcalÀ may be Vergentum.

It is a long dirty town, full of ovens and charcoal, and contains a population of 3000 souls. The chaussÉe to Madrid, by Cordoba, here branches off to the left; whilst that to Xeres and Cadiz, crossing the Guadaira, is directed far inland upon Utrera, rendering it extremely circuitous. A more direct road strikes off from it immediately after crossing the river, proceeding by way of Dos Hermanos.

We still continued to pursue the great road, which, after ascending a range of hills that rises along the left bank of the Guadaira, traverses a perfectly flat country, abounding in olives, that extends all the way to Utrera, a distance of eleven miles.

Utrera thus stands in the midst of a vast plain, that may be considered the first step from the marshes of the GuadalquivÍr, towards the Ronda mountains, which are yet twelve miles distant to the eastward. A slight mound, that rises in the centre of the town, and is embraced by an extensive circuit of dilapidated walls, doubtless offered the inducement to build a town here; and these walls, some parts of which are very lofty, and in a tolerably perfect state, appear to be Roman, though the castle and its immediate outworks are Moorish.

What the ancient name of the town was would, without the help of monuments or inscriptions, be now impossible to determine, but it certainly did not lie upon either of the routes laid down in the Itinerary of Antoninus, between Cadiz and Cordoba, though some have imagined it to be Ilipa.[56] Others have supposed it to be Siarum; but adopting Harduin’s reading of Pliny—“Caura, Siarum,” instead of Caurasiarum—it seems more likely that Utrera was Caura, and that Moron, or some other town yet more distant from Seville, was Siarum.

By its present name it is well known in Moorish history, its rich campiÑa having frequently been ravaged by the Moslems, after they had been driven from the open country to seek shelter in the neighbouring mountains.

At the present day, it is celebrated only for its breeds of saints and bulls, the former ranked amongst the most devout, the latter the most ferocious, of Andalusia. The town is large, and not walled in; the streets are wide and clean, and a plentiful stream rises near and traverses the place—remarkable as being the only running water within a circuit of several miles. It contains 15,000 inhabitants, mostly agriculturists, and a very tolerable inn.

Utrera, as has already been observed, is situated on the arrecife, or great road, from Cadiz to Madrid, which arrecife makes two considerable elbows to visit this place and AlcalÀ. Now from Utrera there is a cross-road to Carmona (which town is also situated on the great route to the capital), that, by avoiding AlcalÀ, reduces the distance between the two places from seven to six leagues; and from Utrera there is also another cross-road (by way of Arajal) to Ecija, which, by cutting off another angle made by the arrecife, effects a yet greater saving in the distance to that city, and consequently to Cordoba and Madrid. From these circumstances, Utrera becomes, in military phrase, an important strategical point; and as such, the French, when advancing upon Cadiz in 1810, attempted to gain it by the cross-road from Ecija, ere the Duke of Albuquerque, who had taken post at Carmona, with the view of covering Seville, could reach it by the arrecife. The duke, however, with great judgment, abandoned Seville to what he well knew must eventually be its fate, and by a rapid march saved Cadiz, though not without having to engage in a cavalry skirmish to cover his retreat.

What important consequences hung upon the decision of that moment; for how different might have been the result of the war, had the important fortress of Cadiz fallen into the enemy’s hands, and given them 30,000 disposable troops at that critical juncture![57]

On issuing from Utrera, we once more quit the chaussÉe (which is henceforth directed very straight upon Xeres), and, taking an easterly course, proceed towards a lofty mountain, that, seemingly detached from the serrated mass, juts slightly forward into the plain.

At the distance of six miles from Utrera, the ground, which thus far is quite flat and very barren, begins to be slightly undulated, and is here and there dotted with cortijos and corn fields; and, at eight miles from Utrera, a road crosses from Arajah to Coronil; the first-named town being distant about two miles on the left, the latter half a league on the right. For the next league the country is one waving corn-field. At the end of that distance we reached the steep banks of a rivulet, which here first issues from the mountains, and is called El Salado de Moron. The road crosses to the right bank of this stream, on gaining which it immediately turns to the north (keeping parallel to the ridge of the detached mountain, upon which, as I have already noticed, it had previously been directed), and ascends very gradually towards Moron. The country, during this latter portion of the road, is partially wooded. The total distance from Utrera to Moron is about sixteen miles.

Moron is singularly situated, being nestled in the lap of five distinct hills, the easternmost and loftiest of which is occupied by an old castle, a mixed work of the Romans and Moors.

According to La MartiniÈre, Moron is on the site of Arunci; and this opinion seems to rest on a better foundation than that of other authors, who maintain that Arcos occupies the position of the above-named ancient city; for it is natural to suppose that the territory of the Celtici (amongst whose towns Arunci is enumerated by Pliny) did not extend beyond the intricate belt of mountains known at the present day as the SerranÍa de Ronda. Now, Moron commands one of the principal entrances to the SerranÍa, whereas Arcos is situated far in the plains of the Guadalete towards Xeres, and would seem rather to have been one of the cities of the “county of Cadiz.”

Moron is a strong post, for though raised but slightly above the great plain of Utrera, it commands all the ground in its immediate neighbourhood; and, standing as it does in a mountain gorge, by which several roads debouch upon Seville from various parts of the SerranÍa, it occupies a military position of some consequence. The French guarded it jealously during the war, and placed the castle in a defensible state. Since those days its walls have again been dismantled; but the strength of its position tempted Riego (1820) to try the chances of a battle with the royal army, commanded by General Josef O’Donnel, ere he finally abandoned the mountains.

In vain, however, Riego pointed out to his men the far distant hill of Las Cabezas, where they had first raised the cry of “Constitution, or death;” their exaltacion had abandoned them, and they in turn abandoned their exaltation, leaving their strong position after a very slight resistance. A few days afterwards, at Fuente Ovejuna, they were entirely dispersed.

The successful general, ready to march either against the insurgents of the Isla de Leon, or upon the capital, wrote to the king, announcing that the army of Riego was no more, and requesting to know his commands: but “eheu! quam brevibus pereunt ingentia causis!” a few weeks after this letter was penned, the victor was a prisoner at Ceuta, and the vanquished general (without doing any thing in the meanwhile to retrieve his character) had become the hero of hymns and ballads! The imbecile Ferdinand, fearful lest, by further delay in accepting the Constitution he should lose his crown, had despatched orders to those generals who remained faithful to him, to give up their respective commands, just as the tide of affairs seemed to be turning in favour of a continuance of his despotic reign.

The dispersion of the constitutional army proved two things, however; the first, that Riego was no general; the second, that he and his party had deceived themselves as to the political feeling of the inhabitants of the province. In the course of his rambling operations, Algeciras and Malaga were the only places where Riego was at all well received. In vain he tried to maintain himself in the latter city; driven out of it at the point of the bayonet, he attempted to regain Cadiz, the head-quarters of the revolt; but, closely pressed by the royal army on his retreat through the SerranÍa, was obliged, as I have stated, to receive battle at Moron, where the disorganization of his force was completed.

Moron contains a population of 8,000 souls, and is a well built town, with wide streets, and good shops. There is a mountain road from hence to Grazalema (seven leagues) by way of Zahara. The road from Moron to Ronda passes by Olbera. The distance between the two places is thirty-one miles. The country, immediately on leaving Moron, becomes rough and desolate, and the road, (a mere mule-track,) traverses a succession of strongly marked ridges, which, though not themselves very elevated, are bounded on all sides by bare and rocky mountains. The numerous streams which cross the stony pathway all flow to the south, uniting their waters with the Salado de Moron. On penetrating further into the recesses of the SerranÍa, the valleys become wider, and are thickly wooded, and the luxuriant growth of the unpruned trees, the absence of houses, bridges, and all the other signs of the hand of man, offer a picture of uncultivated nature that could hardly be surpassed even in the interior of New Zealand.

At nine miles from Moron is situated the solitary venta of Zaframagon, and, a mile further on, descending by a beautifully wooded ravine, we reached an isolated rocky mound, under the scarped side of which, embosomed in groves of orange and pomegranate trees, stands a picturesque water-mill. From hence to Olbera is seven miles. The country is of the same wild description as in the preceding portion of the route, but gradually rises and becomes more bare of trees on drawing near the little crag-built town. An execrable pavÉ, which appears to have remained intact since the days of the Romans, winds for the last two miles under the chain of hills over whose narrow summit the houses of Olbera are spread, rising one above another towards an old castle perched on the pinnacle of a rocky cone.

By some Spanish antiquaries, Olbera has been supposed to be the Ilipa mentioned in the Roman Itinerary, as being on the second route laid down between Cadiz and Cordoba, passing by Antequera. This route, by the way, is not a less strange one to lay down between the two cities, than a post road from London to Dover by way of Brighton would be considered by us; but the fancy of winding it through the least practicable part of the mountains of Ronda, from Seville (if, as some imagine, it first went to that city) to Antequera, is even yet more strange, since a nearly level tract of country extends between those two cities in a more direct line.

Considering it, however, merely as a military way, made by the Romans to connect the principal cities of the province, and serving in case of need as a communication between Cadiz and Cordoba, avoiding Seville; a much more probable line may be laid down, on which the distances will be found to agree infinitely better.[58]

Olbera is a wretched place, containing some 3,000 or 4,000 of the rudest looking, and, if report speak true, of the least scrupulous, inhabitants of the SerranÍa. Their lawless character has already been alluded to, and, in Rocca’s Memoirs, a most interesting account is given of their reception of him, when, with a party of dragoons, he was on the march from Moron to Ronda.

His description of the rickety old town-house, wherein he saved his life from an infuriated mob by making a fat priest serve as a shield, is most correctly given, and, in the present dark, suspicious-looking, cloak-enveloped inhabitants, one may readily picture to one’s-self the descendants of the men who skinned a dead ass, and gave it to the French troopers for beef; ever after jeering them by asking “Quien come carne de burra en Olbera? Who eats asses’-flesh at Olbera?”

The view from the old castle is very commanding; the outline of the amphitheatre of mountains is bold and varied, and the valleys between the different masses are richly wooded. To the south may be seen the rocky little fortress of Zahara, sheltered by the huge Sierra del Pinar; and only about two miles distant from Olbera to the north, is the old castle of Pruna, similarly situated on a conical hill that stands detached from a lofty impending mountain.

Olbera is fourteen miles from Ronda. At the distance of rather more than a mile, a large convent, N. S. de los Remedios, stands on the right of the road, and a little way beyond this, the road descends by a narrow ravine towards La Torre de Alfaquime, and, after winding round the foot of the cone whereon that little town is perched, reaches and crosses the Guadalete. This point is about four miles from Olbera. The stream issues from a dark ravine in the mountains that rise up on the left of the road, and serves to irrigate a fertile valley, and turn several mills that here present themselves.

A road to Setenil is conducted through the narrow gorge whence the little river issues, but that to Ronda, ascending for three quarters of an hour, reaches the summit of a lofty mountain on whose eastern acclivity are strewed the extensive ruins of Acinippo.

The view is remarkably fine; to the westward, extending as far as Cadiz, and in the opposite direction looking down upon a wide, smiling valley, watered by the numerous sources of the Guadalete, and upon the little castellated town of Setenil, perched on the rocky bank of the principal branch of that river. This place was very celebrated in the days of the Moslems, having resisted every attack of the Christians,[61] until the persevering “Reyes Catolicos” brought artillery to bear upon its defences.

The road to Ronda descends for two miles, and then keeps for about the same distance along the banks of the Guadalete, crossing and recrossing it several times. The surrounding country is one vast corn-field. Leaving, at length, this rich vale, the road ascends a short but steep ridge, whence the first view is obtained of the yet more lovely basin of Ronda, which, clothed with orchards and olive grounds, and surrounded on all sides by splendid mountains, is justly called the pride of the SerranÍa.

A good stone bridge affords a passage across the Rio Verde, or of Arriate, about a mile above its junction with the Guadiaro; and the road falls in with that from Grazalema on reaching the top of the hill whereon the town stands.