THE appearance of Malaga on a near approach is mean and unprepossessing; nor is this an optical deception, for the suburbs are miserably poor and excessively dirty. This last, indeed, is a fault that the city may be charged with generally; and such is the contempt in which the virtue of cleanliness is held by the inhabitants, that, though the little river Guadalmedina[121] winds its way through the heart of the city, requiring only to be properly husbanded to keep the place sweet and clean; yet, from mismanagement, it is itself suffered to become a nuisance; the scanty stream left after supplying the fountains being in summer so obstructed by heaps of filth, brought out from the city, and thrown into its wide bed, that not having sufficient power to carry off the accumulated mass of corruption, it serves only (by keeping it constantly moist) to render the process of putrefaction more fetid and deadly.
The calm indifference with which the inhabitants of Malaga endure the intolerable nuisance thus generated by their improvidence and indolence, and the patience with which they look forward to the winter torrents to rid them of it, contrast singularly enough with the immoderate alarm occasioned by the arrival of a vessel from the Habana, and the haste with which they send it from their port to undergo purification at Minorca. Thus, whilst dreading most unwarrantably the importation of the yellow fever from a place which, at the time, perhaps, was perfectly free from it, they disregard altogether the little forcing-bed of miasmatic diseases, situated under their own immediate noses.
The city, it is true, has suffered so severely from visitations of this terrible disease, that the inhabitants may well dread its recurrence; but since they are aware that Coin, Alhaurin, and other places in the neighbourhood, situated in a purer atmosphere, are beyond its influence; surely they ought to look at home for the causes of its fatal virulence, if not of its actual production.
The winter torrents come down in great force, and, from the proximity of the mountains, the Guadalmedina rises very suddenly; rendering a wide bed quite necessary to carry it off, as well as strong walls to resist and direct it in its course. But, in spite of these precautions, the lower portions of the city are frequently inundated.
A wooden bridge, on stone piers, keeps up the communication between the two parts of the city during sweet winter; but the bed of the river, which is eighty yards wide, may be crossed dry-foot the greater part of the year.
The principal portion of the city is on the left bank of the Guadalmedina. Indeed, the part situated on the western side is, properly speaking, only a large suburb. The change on passing the bridge is most agreeable; the first object that presents itself being the Alameda, a fine open space, lined on three sides with handsome houses, and on the fourth open to the refreshing westerly breezes. A shaded carriage drive goes round the quadrangle; and down its centre, a broad gravel walk, furnished with seats, and planted with flowers and shrubs, affords the public a delightful promenade.
On a Sunday evening this Paseo is crowded with all classes of the inhabitants; and the dark voluptuous Malagueña, as, with mincing step, she threads the motley throng, fails not to display her skill in fanning signals to her various acquaintances. The stranger, whilst following, with admiring eyes, the graceful movements of the fluttering parchment,[122] little suspects that he is himself the subject matter of its telegraphic communications.
Besides the Alameda, there are several fine open spaces in the city, but certainly not one good street, although some few pretend to the convenience of a trottoir. The inns are tolerably good. That which is dignified by the name of “Los tres Reyes” was the best, at the period of my last visit.
Malaga is said by some to have received its name from the Hebrew work Malach, (signifying to reign) and to have been founded by the Phœnicians, eight centuries before the advent of our Saviour. Others, on the contrary, maintain that its name is derived from the Phœnician language; the same word Malach signifying in it to salt; and that the city was so called from the quantity of fish taken and cured there. The learned Florez, who inclines to this latter opinion, states that the cured fish of Malaga was so esteemed at Rome that a body corporate of merchants was established in that Capital of the world, under the name of Malacitani, as proved by an inscription found in the Campo di Flora.
By the Romans the city was called Malaca; and became one of their confederates, (of which there were but three in Bœtica) as well as the great emporium for their Spanish trade; although Pomponius Mela speaks slightingly of its importance.[123] It was captured by the Moors under Tarik, A.D. 715; and probably such portions of the walls as still exist were built about that period; but the fortress on the Gibralfaro, and the Alcazaba, or Royal Palace, are said to have been erected only towards the end of the thirteenth century; when the Moors, by the rapid progress of the Christian arms, (which had already wrested from them both Cordoba and Valencia) saw the necessity of strengthening the towns of their diminished territories.