His ministers—true jacks in office—had the impudence to tell me, that my services, like those of the Empecinado, and so many other gallant guerrilla chieftains, amounted to little more than highway robberies, and that my proper reward, if I had it, would be the gallows.
Was it astonishing, caballeros, that such black ingratitude should meet with a heavy punishment? The favourable opportunity for inflicting it did not, however, as you know, occur for several years. But the mine which was for ever to lay the throne of absolutism prostrate, was preparing, and at length the explosion took place. I need not tell you that I was amongst the first to declare for the constitution, and my patriotism was rewarded by the lucrative post I now hold. The miserable serviles and anilleros[229] are still contriving plots to subvert the glorious fabric we liberals have raised. But they will find us too strong for them; and the vigour we shall exhibit will effectually deter the French from effecting their long talked of intervention. Indeed, as our old Spanish refran says, “Olla que mucho hierve, mucho pierde;”[230] and I suspect they will find their army assembling to watch Spain, fritter away by desertion, until nothing but its well-paid Etât-Major remains.[231]
Pues![232] Señores, added our hero, after a short pause; I have now related all the most remarkable events of my eventful life. You must, I think, admit that I have had much to contend against in raising myself to my present prosperous condition, and that what little peccadillos I have committed were—if not purely accidental—forced upon me by uncontrollable circumstances. Conque, amigos!—le beso las manos. I will now leave you for a few moments to see to the feeding of my horse, who has a long journey before him, and I will take the opportunity of desiring our hostess to prepare us some chocolate. Si se oferece algo..... ustedes no tienen que mandar,[233] and if you can be persuaded at any future time to visit ——, be assured, mi casa, mi muger, mis criados—todo está a lá disposicion de ustedes.[234]
With this most liberal invitation, Señor Blas left us.
CHAPTER XVII.
CORDOBA—BRIDGE OVER THE GUADALQUIVIR—MILLS—QUAY—SPANISH PROJECTS—FOUNDATION OF THE CITY—ESTABLISHMENT OF THE WESTERN CALIPHAT—CAPTURE OF CORDOBA BY SAN FERNANDO—THE MEZQUITA—BISHOP’S PALACE—MARKET PLACE—GRAND RELIGIOUS PROCESSION—ANECDOTE OF THE LATE BISHOP OF MALAGA AND THE TRAGALA.
THE grandeur of Cordoba, like the effect of stage scenery, ceases on a near inspection. The city, as has already been noticed, stands in the midst of a vast plain, bounded by ranges of distant mountains; but, on entering within the gates, the prospect of the smiling valley and darkly wooded sierras is altogether excluded, and, in exchange, the traveller finds his view confined to the white-washed walls of the low and poverty-stricken houses that line the narrow, crooked, jagged streets of the once proud capital of the Abdalrahmans.
From the painful glare of this displeasing contrast, the eye in vain seeks relief by turning towards the winding Guadalquivír; for, the bridge once passed, not a glimpse of its dark blue current can be obtained from any part of the city.
There is a suburb of some extent on the southern bank of the river; but the city, properly so called, is altogether situated on the opposite side. An old Saracenic castle, modernised and kept in a defensible state, interdicts the approach to the bridge, which edifice is also a work of the Moors. It is a solid structure of sixteen irregular arches, 23 feet in width, and 860 in length. Its erection is usually attributed to the Caliph Hassim (son of the first Abdalrahman), towards the close of the eighth century; and, according to Florez, that enlightened sovereign was himself the planner and director of the work. I can see no reason to doubt this respectable authority, although some English writers have stated the bridge to be of Roman construction. It is very possible that the present edifice may have been raised on an old foundation, though the bridge built by the Romans is generally supposed to have been higher up the river.
The summer stream of the Guadalquivír scarcely warrants its being distinguished by so grandiose a name as the Great River—Guad-al Kibeer, for its volume of water is but small, and, from being led off into numerous irrigating conduits and mill-races, is reduced to so inconsiderable a current that, during nine months of the year, the greater part of the river’s wide sandy bed is left perfectly dry.