Their intercourse, on the other hand, (and this is observable in all the sea-port towns of Spain) has given them strangely ill defined notions of English liberty, and equally extraordinary opinions of our religious tenets; and has filled their minds with highly constitutional ideas of the iniquity of taxation, and most conscientious scruples as to the propriety of supporting a national church. I fear, indeed, that deistical, nay I believe I should say Atheistical, opinions prevail to a great extent amongst the upper orders of Spaniards, though they still continue to observe—if not the penances—all the superstitious ceremonies and absurd fooleries of the Romish church.
One of their extraordinary lental ceremonies I became acquainted with under very alarming circumstances. I was awaked one fine April morning, during one of my earliest visits to San Roque, by a most furious fusillade, which, considering the unsettled state of Spain at that particular juncture, I naturally enough concluded was occasioned by some popular commotion. The appearance of my servant in answer to a hasty summons of the bell immediately quieted my apprehensions on that score, however; the broad grin that distended his round Kentish countenance plainly bespeaking the absence of all danger;—though what occasioned his unwonted merriment puzzled me to divine. In reply to my inquiries touching the firing, the only answer I could obtain was, “They’re a shooting of Hoodah.”—“And who the deuce is Hoodah?” said I, “and what has he been about?”—But on these points he was quite as ignorant as myself; so dressing with all possible despatch—the astounding rolls of musketry, and as it appeared to me of field artillery also, continuing the whole time I was so occupied, seeming indeed to spread to all parts of the town—I issued forth, armed up to the teeth, and on turning the corner of the street saw, to my horror, a human figure suspended in the air, and reduced almost to a bundle of rags by the incessant firing of—as I supposed—a party of soldiers posted in a cross street.
This surely is “making assurance doubly sure,” thought I. Why the poor devil can’t have an inch of sound flesh in his body after all this peppering. The bang, bang continued incessantly, however, accompanied by roars of laughter, until at length the ill-fated Hoodah was in a blaze. A crowd of men and boys, armed with guns, pistols, and blunderbusses, now rushed from the cross street, (where they had been concealed from my view) rending the air with vivas. At this same moment a loud peal of music burst upon me from a neighbouring church, and from its portal issued a long train of priests preceded by the Host. With these came the recollections of its being Easter Sunday, and of the guttural pronunciation of the Spanish J; and quite ashamed of my war-like demonstration, I retreated to my house yet quicker than I had issued from it.
The distant firing continued some time longer; and I afterwards learnt that the effigies of no less than seven Judases had that morning been severally hanged, shot, and burnt, to satisfy the holy rage of the devout inhabitants of San Roque.
CHAPTER III.
COUNTRY IN THE VICINITY OF SAN ROQUE—RUINS OF THE ANCIENT CITY OF CARTEIA—FIELD OF BATTLE OF ALPHONSO THE ELEVENTH—JOURNEY TO RONDA—FOREST OF ALMORAIMA—MOUTH OF THE LIONS—FINE SCENERY—TOWN OF GAUCIN—A SPANISH INN—OLD CASTLE AT GAUCIN—INTERIOR OF AN ANDALUSIAN POSADA—SPANISH HUMOUR—MOUNTAIN WINE.
THE country in the immediate vicinity of San Roque is tame and uninteresting; but, within the distance of an hour’s ride, in whatever direction you may turn your horse’s head, it becomes agreeably varied,—presenting wide, cultivated valleys, shady forests of cork, oak, and pine, and wild and cragged mountains.
In the neighbourhood are many objects well deserving the attention of the antiquary; amongst others, the ruins of the ancient city of Carteia, situated on the sea-shore, within the bay of Gibraltar, and near the mouth of the River Guadaranque. The walls may be traced very distinctly; they enclose an amphitheatre, in a tolerable state of preservation, reliques of baths and other edifices, and the remains of a small temple of Corinthian architecture and most exquisite and elaborate workmanship.
This last has only recently been discovered. It was built of beautiful white marble, and its columns, though lying prostrate, appeared to have suffered little by their fall; but such is the want of antiquarian taste in the Spaniards of the present day, that it is to be feared this fine specimen of the arts has already disappeared, and is now only to be met with in detached blocks, scattered throughout the neighbouring farm-houses and walls.
The learned Mr. Francis Carter, whose interesting “Journey from Gibraltar to Malaga” has, it is much to be regretted, been long out of print, states, that Carteia was built on the ruins of a “most antique” city called Tartessus, or Tarsis, from whence, “once in three years,” the fleets of King Solomon “brought gold and silver, ivory and apes and peacocks.”[38] The Greeks afterwards called this city Heraclea,[39] and in yet more recent times it received the name of Carteia.