The descent, according to our Cicerone’s information, was formerly effected by 365 steps, cut in the live rock; but, at the present day, it would defy the powers of numbers to reckon them, the greater part of the staircase being in so ruinous a condition as to be barely practicable. I should suppose, however, the depth of the Mina, from its mouth to the bed of the river, is about 250 feet. It pierces the solid rock, in short and very irregular zig-zags, for about two thirds the distance down, when, entering a natural rent in the cliff, the remaining portion is built up from the bottom of the chasm with large blocks of stone; advantage having been taken of a lateral projection, to cover this artificial facing from an enemy’s projectiles.
At various levels, passages lead off from the staircase into spacious and curiously arched apartments, to which light is admitted by narrow casements opening into the chasm or tajo. This subterranean edifice is supposed to have been a palace of the Moorish kings.
On the side walls of the narrow, crooked staircase, are numerous rudely engraved crosses, which our conductor assured us were wrought by the hands of the Christian captives who, during the last siege of the place, were employed in bringing up water for the use of the garrison, and whose oft-repeated signs of faith, thus lightly marked by their passing hands, had miraculously left these deep impressions on the hard stone. “Nor”—added he—“did such proofs of their devotion go unrewarded even in this world, for their liberation quickly followed; the until then unconquered city having been wrested from the Mohammedans after only a few weeks’ siege.”—The chains of these good Christians were sent to Toledo, in one of the churches of which city they may yet be seen.
Various other remarkable legends are related of this wonderful place; which, however, I will pass over, to say a few words of other objects worthy of observation in the vicinity of the city.
Of these, the most interesting to the Antiquary are the ruins of the Roman city of Acinippo,[97] which lie scattered on the side of a mountain on the left of the road to Seville by way of Olbera, and distant about ten miles N.W. from Ronda. Some of the Spanish Geographers persist in calling it Ronda la vieja, (old Ronda,) but certainly on no good grounds, since no place bearing the comparatively modern name of Ronda could well be of older date than the present city itself.
In the time of Carter, the venerable ruins of Acinippo could boast of containing an Amphitheatre and the foundations of several spacious temples, all in tolerable preservation; but these are now barely perceptible; and the statues, pavements, in fact, every thing considered worth removing, has long since been carried to Ronda.
Numerous Roman coins are daily turned up by the plough, as it passes over the streets of the ancient city, and Cameos, intaglios, and other more valuable relics, may be procured occasionally from the peasants dwelling in the neighbourhood.
But, though scarcely one stone of Acinippo now rests upon another, still the view from the site is of itself a sufficient reward for the trouble of scrambling to the summit of the mountain; whence, on a clear day, it is said that even Cadiz may be seen.
Deep in the valley, on the opposite or eastern side, flows the principal source of the Guadelete, (water of Lethe) which the Spaniards maintain is the real river of Oblivion of the ancients. Where the fertilizing stream flows amongst the vineyards of Xeres, it probably has often proved so without any fable.
On the bank of this rivulet stands the little castellated town of Setenil; famous in Moorish history, as having defied all the efforts of the Christians to subdue it, until the ponderous lombards of Ferdinand and Isabella were brought to bear with unerring aim upon its rock-based battlements. A.D. 1484.