But, though destitute of battlements, the New Town is nearly as difficult of approach, and as incapable of expansion, as the walled city itself; for, bounded on its south side by the deep Tajo, and to the west, by an almost equally formidable cliff that branches off from it, its eastern limits are determined by a rocky ledge that extends diagonally towards the Guadiaro; thus leaving the access free only on its north side.
The ground in all directions falls more or less rapidly inwards; and the town, thus spread over it, assumes the form of an amphitheatre, looking into the rocky bed of the Guadiaro.
There are three bridges across the river, communicating between the two towns: the first—a work of the Moors—connects the suburb of San Miguel, situated at the lowest part of the New Town, with some tanneries and other buildings standing outside the walls of the ancient city. It is very narrow, and being thrown over the stream just before it enters the dark fissure, does not exceed forty feet in height. The second crosses the chasm at a single span, where its banks have already attained a considerable elevation, and affords an entrance to the Old Town by a gateway in the N.E. corner of its present walls. The last and principal bridge is a noble, though somewhat heavy structure of much more recent date than the others, and furnishes an excellent specimen of the bold conception and peculiar taste of the Spaniards of the last century. It is thrown across the chasm where its precipitous banks have attained their greatest elevation, and its parapet is 280 feet above the stream that flows beneath, and nearly 600 above the level of the plain to which it is hastening.
A bridge was erected at this same spot a hundred years back,[75] which spanned the frightful fissure in one arch, and must have been one of the boldest works of the kind, ever (up to that time) undertaken; since its diameter could not have been less than 150 feet. Unfortunately, the workmanship was in some way defective, (or more probably the foundation,) and it fell down but a few years after its completion. The present structure was then commenced, which, if not so airy and picturesque as the former must have been, possesses the more solid qualities of safety and durability.
This bridge also spans the lower portion of the fissure in one arch, springing from solid buttresses that rest on the rocky bed of the torrent. But, as the chasm widens rapidly, this first arch is merely carried sufficiently high to admit of the free passage of the stream at all seasons, and is then surmounted by a second, of the same span but much greater elevation; and the massive buttresses on either side are lightened in appearance by being pierced with arches to correspond—thus making the bridge consist of three arches above and one below.
The view from the parapet of this bridge is quite enchanting. The sensation of giddiness that seizes the spectator on first leaning over the yawning abyss, leaves a feeling of pleasureable excitement, similar to that produced by a slight shock of a galvanic battery. The distant roar of the foaming torrent also warns him of his perilous height; but the solid nature of the bounding wall quickly removes all feeling of insecurity, and allows him, whilst he rests against it, to enjoy at his leisure the noble view before him, in which are combined the rich and varied tints of a southern clime, with the bold outlines and wild beauties of an Alpine region. The view looking over the Eastern parapet of the bridge is of a more gloomy character than that from the opposite side, but is equally grand and imposing. In the bottom of the dark fissure—which here the sun’s rays seldom reach—the transparent rivulet may be tracked, winding its way leisurely through the tortuous channel; here and there interrupted in its course by masses of fallen rock, and partially overshadowed by trees and creepers; whilst its precipitous banks, from whose rugged surface it might be supposed no vegetation could possibly spring, are thickly covered with the higo chumbo,[76] (prickly pear) amongst whose thorny boughs numerous ragged urchins may be seen—almost suspended in air—intent on obtaining their favourite fruit. Beyond the dark tajo, the sun shines on the green fields and vineyards of the fertile plain; and yet further behind are the low wooded sierras that bound the vale of Ronda to the north.
The City can boast of few public buildings to excite the interest of a stranger. The churches are numerous, and gaudily fitted up; but they contain neither paintings nor statuary of any merit. In the New Town, on the other hand, are the Theatre—a small but conveniently fitted up edifice—the Stables of the Real Maestranza;[77] and the Plaza de los Toros; which latter, though not so large as those of the principal cities of the Province, is certainly one of the handsomest in Spain. It is built of stone, and nearly of a circular form, and is capable of containing 10,000 persons. The roof is continued all round; which is not the case in most amphitheatres; and it is supported by a colonnade of 64 pillars of the Tuscan order. The greatest diameter of the Arena is 190 feet, which is precisely the width of that of the Flavian Amphitheatre at Rome. The internal economy of the bull-fighting establishment is well worthy the observation of those who are curious in such matters; being very complete and well ordered, though not now kept up in the style of by-gone days.
The two towns together contain about 16,000 inhabitants, who are principally employed in agricultural and horticultural pursuits; though there are several manufactories of hats, two or three tanneries, and numerous water-mills.
Ronda is a place of considerable commerce; its secluded and at the same time central situation adapting it peculiarly for an emporium for smuggled goods; in which, it may be said, the present trade of Spain entirely consists. The vicinity of Gibraltar and Cadiz; the impracticable nature of the country between those ports and along the Mediterranean shore; the difficult and intricate mountain paths that traverse it (known only to the smugglers); and the wretched state of the national army and Navy; all tend to favour the contraband trade; and more especially that of Ronda, where the same facilities present themselves for getting smuggled goods away from the place, as of bringing them from the coast to it.
It is lamentable blindness on the part of the Spanish government,—considering the deplorable state of the manufactures of the country; of the “shipping interest;” of the roads and other means of inland communication; and, to crown all, I may add, of the finances,—not to see the advantage that would accrue from lowering the duties on foreign produce; on tobacco, cocoa, and manufactured goods in particular, which may be considered as absolute necessaries to all classes of Spaniards. By so doing, not only would the present demoralising system of smuggling be put an end to,—since it would then be no longer a profitable business,—but the money which now clings to the fingers of certain venal authorities of the Customs, or finds its way into the pockets of the Troops[78] and Sailors employed on the preventive service, in the way of bribes, would then stand some chance of reaching the public treasury.