As none of our party had professed an over-boiling admiration of the existing state of things, I believe we were set down as aiders and abettors in the revolt of the troops which shortly afterwards took place—though not until we had safely returned to the shelter of the British fortress.
We left Granada as proposed, taking the direct road to Cordoba, by Alcalà la real. As far as that town, the road, at the period of which I write, was the only carriage route leading from Granada towards Madrid. Another by way of Jaen has been opened within the last few years. If ocular demonstration of this first-named road being practicable for carriages had not, however, been afforded us, we should certainly have doubted the possibility of any thing less fragile than a bullock’s cart getting over some parts of it; but as far as Piños de la Puente, that is, for the first twelve miles, it is tolerably good, traversing the north-eastern portion of the Vega, and leaving the Sierra de Elvira at some little distance on the right. The village of Piños stands on the right bank of the river Cubillas, and inscriptions, which have been found and are preserved there, prove it to have been the town of Ilurco, mentioned by Pliny. It is celebrated, in more recent times, as a spot where many a fierce struggle took place between the Moors and Christians; for, in their forays into each other’s country, the bridge of Piños was generally the point chosen for effecting a passage across the impracticable little stream that, in this direction, bounds the Vega.
The hilly country begins immediately on leaving Piños de la puente, and a fine view is obtained from the heights above the village: Granada, and the line of mountains beyond, are seen to great advantage, and to the right lies the rich vega, stretching westward as far as Loja. The Soto de Roma[154] occupies the very heart of the fruitful plain; appearing from hence to be thickly wooded. Such, however, is not the case, although some well grown timber is upon one part of it.
Proceeding onwards, over a very hilly country, and crossing the little river Moclin, in an hour and a half we reached the Venta del puerto Lope, (pass of Lopez) distant six miles from Piños de la puente. About three miles beyond the Venta, a view of the most romantic kind presents itself. The Sierra Nevada, and part of the plain of Granada, are seen through a tremendous rent that intersects the lofty mountains which now encircle the traveller; the entrance of the rugged defile being defended by two towers, standing on bold, and almost inaccessible, rocks.
Some miles up this impracticable tajo, is situated the crag-based fortress of Moclin, which, from the command it possessed of the principal pass through this mountain range, was called by the Moors, “the Shield of Granada.” The celebrated Conde de Cabra experienced a signal defeat in attempting to surprise this fortress; which, a few years after, (A.D. 1487) fell into the hands of Ferdinand the Catholic, by the accidental explosion of its powder-magazine.
About a league from the Puerto de Lope, the town of Illora, erroneously placed on the road in most maps, is seen two miles off, on the left. It stands on a rocky eminence, crowned by an old castle, and overlooking a fertile plain. The ancient name of the place is lost; but it was one of the strongholds of the Moors, and fell to the Christian arms only a few weeks prior to the capture of Moclin, when the renowned Gonzalvo was appointed its Alcaide.
The country henceforth becomes more open and cultivated, but the soil looks cold and ungrateful after that of the plain of Granada. The hills bordering the road are studded with towers at the distance of about a league asunder, which, in the days of the Moslems, must have formed a very perfect line of telegraphic communication between the capital and the northern frontier towns of the kingdom of Granada.
The old castle of Alcalà la real, situated on an eminence, is seen at a considerable distance, and, on a near approach, some modern works thrown up by the French give it rather an imposing appearance. The town is so pent in by hills as not to be seen until one has passed under the triumphal arch by which it is entered. It was called by the Moors Alcalà Abenzaide, the Castle (Al Kala) of Abenzaide, and received its present distinguished name on falling to the victorious arms of Alfonzo XI. A.D. 1340. From this date it became the principal bulwark of the Christian frontier, and the base of most of the offensive operations undertaken against Granada. A remarkable brick tower, built by the Conde de Tendilla as a night beacon, to assist the erring footsteps of the Christians in escaping from captivity, still stands on an elevated knoll, clear of all the other hills, on the opposite side of the town to the castle.
Antiquaries are at issue as to what Roman town stood in this important position. Some imagine it to be the situation of the Agla menor of Pliny; whilst others—as it appears to me with more reason, considering the order in which that methodical writer enumerated the cities of note lying between Bœtis and the Sea—are of opinion that it is the site of Ebura Cerealis.
Alcalà la real has always been considered a military post of importance, and many a desperate conflict has been witnessed from its walls. The last (not a very desperate one, however) was in January, 1810, between a division of the French army, commanded by General Sebastiani, and a disorganized mob of Spaniards, under Areizaga,—by turns the most rash, and most desponding, and always the least successful, of all the Spanish generals. By the defeat of the Spanish host, the road to Granada was thrown open to the invaders.