After reaching the summit of the mountain, and following for a little way a level road, we began to descend into a deep valley, clothed with ilex and cork tree; and towards evening we passed under the hill, upon which the town of Colmona is situated. Upon a small bridge at the foot of the hill, a number of the inhabitants of the town were assembled, some sitting upon the wall of the bridge, some playing cards, and some lying on the ground; and a more ruffian-like sample of a town’s population, I do not recollect to have ever seen. After passing Colmona, we continued to wind among low hills that seemed the outposts of more lofty ranges,—gradually ascending, and approaching the Sierra. And nearly two hours after dark, the gallera stopped at the gate of the solitary venta, where it was necessary we should pass the night.
This venta may be taken as a fair specimen of travelling accommodation in the southern and eastern provinces of Spain, in the year 1830. Groping my way through a small court-yard, and a wide gateway, I found myself in a long apartment; I do not know any word to express (a barn on the ground-story), the floor earthen—the roof, a congregation of beams and rafters—the walls, partly rough stone, as originally put together; partly white-washed. The door, by which I had entered, was nearly in the middle of the side wall, so that one-half of the apartment lay to the right, and the other to the left. To the right, I saw a dim file of mules stretching away into obscurity: on the left, at the farther extremity of the apartment, a bright blaze from a fire kindled on the floor, shewed me the way to the part appropriated to the human guests! As I walked towards the fire, which was at a great distance, the scene assumed a more picturesque and striking appearance: at a round table not far from the fire, sat ten or twelve men, every one with his little round Spanish hat and crimson girdle; and in every one’s hand a long clasp knife, with which he fished, from time to time, a huge piece of meat from an enormous brown dish that stood smoking in the centre of the table—diffusing around the usual fragrance of a Spanish stew, in which the prominent ingredients are oil and garlic. Over the blazing fire hung an iron apparatus, from which depended a large iron pot, containing something worthy the attention of a brown-cheeked, dark-haired wench, who inspected it by the help of a light simply contrived by a piece of wick being put into a small open vessel of oil; and, after having ascertained the state of the stew (for this also was a stew) she hung her lamp upon a nail affixed to a rafter over her head. On the stone bench beyond the fire, sat two or three muleteers, who seemed by their inactivity, to have already tasted the good things of the venta; for one was manufacturing a cigar in the approved Spanish mode, by rolling paper round a little tobacco: and the other had already accomplished this task, and was enveloped in a cloud of smoke—and the picture of the venta is completed, if we add two or three great lank dogs standing at the table where the supper party was seated; and two or three others lying in the neighbourhood of the fire. Such was the state of the venta, when the gallera party arrived, to claim a share of its hospitalities. The features of the scene were now greatly multiplied: one of the party was seen kneeling at the fire, intent upon the operation of chocolate-making—another was employed in heating a pot of wine—and my occupation was, watching the progress towards boiling, of some water meant to deluge the “fragrant herb.” All these preparations being completed, the gallera party proposed enjoying their various refreshments in company, adding to them, the fowl and sausages which had been brought from Malaga. But the supper-table was still occupied by the hungry guests, before whom the second supply of stew had just been placed; and who were employing the interval in passing round the wine in the southern fashion—each in his turn pouring from the tube of a glass vessel, a stream of wine, which fell from the distance of a foot, in a fine arch, into his open mouth. We were accordingly obliged to carry our refreshments into the chamber, or quarto (for the word chamber suggests something beyond its deserts), where the young lady had been seen in bed. The caballero had already taken his leave; and the pretty intrigante got up, and joined us at supper: this being finished, a difficulty arose as to our various sleeping accommodations. The mother and daughter were already provided; for the latter had secured the only mattress and sheets, when she arrived at the venta; and the doubtful lady had brought her sleeping apparatus from Malaga. The bed of the two former was already spread, and the other was speedily deposited in the opposite corner; and as there was no other quarto in the venta disengaged, it was proposed that I should make my bed in a corner of the same quarto: this was better than sitting by the fire, or sleeping on the mud floor; and I had deposited some clean straw, and my cloak, upon the ground, and had turned my back to the ladies while they retired to their mattresses, when a lucky event placed at my disposal, the comfortable bed of the single lady: the noise of a horse’s hoofs was heard, and the commanding voice of a caballero; and when I was permitted to turn round, I discovered that the lady had disappeared. Soon after, upon going to the door of the quarto, and looking into the common apartment, I saw her seated by the gentleman who had newly arrived, upon a bench near the fire; and after waiting more than half an hour, I took the liberty of approaching, and asking her when she purposed returning to occupy her bed, as the other ladies wished to lock the door, and go to sleep? To this question, the caballero replied for her, that the ladies might lock the door, and go to sleep when it was agreeable to them, as no one would disturb them; and receiving no contradiction of this from his companion, I returned to the quarto, bolted the door, and took possession of the comfortable berth of the absent owner.
It was a curious scene next morning, when, upon leaving my bed early, I could scarcely thread my way among the mattresses spread on the ground; all occupied by some sleeping or newly-awoke muleteer: round the fire, these were still more thickly strewn; and I had actually to tempt one yawning fellow from his bed, by a present of two cigars, that I might find a vacant spot where I could stand, and prepare my chocolate. It was then just day-break; and the gallera not being ready, I left the venta, and walked to the summit of a neighbouring rocky height. The evening is said to be the most solemn hour; but I have felt that the morning is solemn too, when, in a desolate scene like this, we stand alone among the dim mountains, and see the stars’ faint twinkle, and day preparing to illuminate a desert,—and hear no sound, that in peopled climes, welcomes the approach of light.
When we left the venta, we continued to wind through the Sierra, and then traversed a deep valley, full of wood, and bounded by lofty mountains. I counted five monumental crosses in this valley. Soon afterwards, we entered a more cultivated country; and before noon, Loxa was seen before us at about a league distant. The view and situation of this old Moorish town, are beyond expression beautiful. It stands upon a slight elevation, in a valley about half a league wide; the Xenil circling round the height, and traversing the valley; the mountains that rise on either side, are covered with the most charming vegetation, and all the lower slopes near the town, are adorned with gardens, and rich groves of oranges and lemons; and these so mingle with the buildings, that the spires of the churches and convents seem to rise out of bowers; and the houses, partly hid in foliage, appear like a range of villas. We did not stop in Loxa, which is remarkable chiefly for the beauty of its situation—but passed on towards Granada. The valley of the Xenil is extremely fruitful; many ploughs were busy by the river side, and the young corn had already covered the fields with the freshest green.
A little before sunset, I climbed to the summit of a neighbouring height, to catch, if possible, a view of the Sierra Nevada,—the snowy Sierra of Granada—touched by the rosy light of evening; but just as I had climbed high enough to descry the summit of the range, a large, lean, and ferocious sheep dog made towards me, and I was satisfied to purchase an escape, at the expense of losing my labour. The ascent of this height had separated me a considerable distance from the gallera; and I still loitered behind, gathering the woodbine,—the first I had seen in Spain,—that grew profusely by the way side, until reminded of the propriety of joining my companions by the approaching dusk, and by a glimpse of two suspicious-looking men, who eyed me very scrutinizingly from a bank upon which they were sitting. Soon after overtaking the gallera, we crossed a rapid stream, by a deep, and rather dangerous ford; and after dark, we arrived at the Venta de Casin, our refuge for the night. At the same time with ourselves, another gallera arrived from Granada, so that the venta overflowed with travellers, and three quartos were all the accommodation it afforded.
Very different is the reception which the traveller meets with at a Spanish venta, or even posada, and at an English inn. At the Spanish posada, no bustling waiter with his clean napkin, bows you into the house; no smart demoiselle drops a curtesy, and leads the traveller forward with the glance of her black eyes. In the Spanish posada, the traveller is welcomed by nobody,—is never asked his pleasure, or what are his wants; he is left to feel his way along a stone wall; and is at last directed to the kitchen by a glare of light from the fire, which is kindled on the floor. It is a curious fact too, that the rank of the traveller makes no difference in his reception. There is not one kind of welcome for the gentleman traveller, another for the diligence traveller, and another for the visitor of low degree. All ranks find one level in a Spanish posada: no separate tables are set; no distinctive honours are paid; there is no scale of civility; the caballero, the merchant, the muleteer, is alike left to shift for himself.
By having walked in advance of the gallera, I had secured one of the three quartos, which I gave up to the females of the party, or rather shared it with them: and after having succeeded in getting some hard-boiled eggs, and some excellent wine, I made my bed, and retired to it; for no repetition of my good fortune occurred this night. But there was so great a number of mules in the venta, that the tinkling of their bells, and the noise of their feet, added to the unintermitting attacks of certain enemies of repose, whose name might be called “legion,” prevented the gentle approaches of sleep; and it was with great satisfaction that I hailed the morning dawn through the paneless windows. I need scarcely say that window glass is not to be seen in any village south of the Sierra Morena; and in the most southern, and in the eastern parts, even the principal posadas in the large towns have rarely glass in the windows. It is quite a mistake, to suppose that there is no occasion for glass in the southern parts of Spain. There are many days during a Spanish winter—and before leaving Spain I had experience of them—which, in England, would be thought to demand closed windows, and a blazing fire.
After leaving the Venta de Casin, we entered upon a heathy country, wild, open, and covered with aromatic plants; and after three hours travelling, we caught the first view of Imperial Granada,—yet at a great distance—backed by the lofty Sierra, with its snowy summits. At a small village famous for its fruits, I purchased a melon as large as a man’s head, for four quartos—a fraction above a penny—and found it delicious beyond any that I had ever before eaten. Granada is the most celebrated, among all the Spanish provinces, for its fruits; but, with the exception of the melon, the pomegranate, and the prickly pear, the season of fruit was passing. At Santa Fe, the country becomes rich and populous; for here we are within the influence of irrigation; and now at every step, Granada rose before us with greater distinctness and magnificence. The situation of Granada eclipses that of any city that I have ever seen; and altogether, the view in approaching it, struck me more forcibly than any other view that I could at that moment recollect. And yet, the description would not perhaps be very striking on paper; because the ingredients of its magnificence consist in the vastness and splendour of its Moorish remains—not a single Alcazar, not a few isolated ruins, whose dimensions the eye at once embraces—but ranges of palaces, and castles, and towers, covering elevations a league in circumference, rising above and stretching beyond one another, with a subject city at their feet; and almost vying in grandeur with the gigantic range of the snowy Sierra that towers above them.
It is impossible to approach and to enter Granada without a thousand associations,—half reality, half romance,—being awakened within us: many centuries are suddenly swept from the records of time; and the events of other days are pictured in our imagination. A page of history is written upon every object that surrounds us. We see the Vega covered with the Christian camp, and the silken pavilion of Queen Isabella rising above the tents of the Spanish nobles: we see the queen, and the ladies of the court, and a gorgeous cavalcade, ride forth towards the Moorish city; and we see the Moorish cavalry pour through the gates into the plain, headed by the warrior Muza Ben Abel Gazan; and we see Boabdil, the last of the Moors, uncrowned and exiled, leave the city of his affections—the glory of a fallen empire—and turn round from the last eminence, to gaze yet once more upon the towers of the Alhambra; and we hear the fallen king, as he turns in silence and sorrow from the contemplation, exclaim, “Allah achbar!” God is great.
I will endeavour to convey to the reader some idea of the situation of Granada, in a matter-of-fact description.