Of all the talayóts that we examined this is the only one that contained an inner chamber of any size, most of the so-called megalithic dwellings consisting of small cavities or recesses that can only by a stretch of imagination be supposed to have served as human habitations.
As one approaches the centre of the island the most conspicuous object in the level landscape is the conical outline of Monte Toro, a mere molehill less than twelve hundred feet in height, but raised to the dignity of a mountain from the accident of having no rival in Minorca. Upon its summit is seen the large convent and church of the Augustines, a place of pilgrimage for the islanders. At noon we arrived at Mercadél, a tidy and commonplace little village forming a half-way house between Mahon and Ciudadéla, and here we put up for a couple of hours to rest and have luncheon. The Governor of the Balearics who was making the tour of Minorca in a steam diligence, arrived almost immediately after ourselves, and from our window we could watch him being received in the street by the local officials, between whom and the governor’s suite there was much hat raising and clapping on the back—the latter form of greeting being carried out mutually and simultaneously by both persons concerned, with a peculiarly genial and happy effect. The governor’s steam diligence overtook us again before we reached Ciudadéla, and our mule, taking its snorting and rattling as a challenge, responded by racing it frantically along the high road for more than a mile before he would admit himself beaten.
On leaving Mercadél we made a détour to the south by way of San Cristobal, an hour distant, where Murray’s guide-book asserts that certain “fine and curious talayóts” are to be found. Our search for these, however, proved a wildgoose chase, for all our questioning of the villagers produced nothing beyond four quite unimportant tumuli, difficult of access and in no way worth visiting—our driver remarking severely that he knew all along it would be so, since if he had not heard of the monuments we were in quest of it was quite certain they did not exist. In spite of this crushing observation we were not altogether sorry to have come to San Cristobal, for the road passes through the prettiest country we had yet seen in Minorca, undulating hills wooded with pine and ilex, and ditches full of a handsome flowering reed not unlike a small Pampas grass.
At Ferrerías, where we rejoined the high road, the whole soil is so impregnated with iron that at a little distance one might have imagined the landscape to be tinted by a Swiss Alpenglūth—the ruddy hillsides and the dark red of the stone walls harmonising strikingly with the crimson flower of a sheet of sainfoin in the foreground. The western side of the island is in general more hilly and more timbered than the eastern coast, some clumps of tall Aleppo pines forming picturesque features in the scene.
When within a couple of miles of Ciudadéla our driver drew up, and pointed out to us a large grey mass lying in a field some little distance from the road. This was the Nau de Tudons, one of the most remarkable monuments in the island, which our guide was particularly anxious to show us; but after getting down and wrestling for a few moments with a high field-gate he returned crestfallen to the carriage to say that the gate was locked, and that it would, unfortunately, not be possible for the señoras to visit the Nau, as there was no other way of approach. Assuring him loftily that locked gates were as nothing in our eyes we got over it, to his great astonishment, and made our way across the fields towards a strange erection unlike any other we had hitherto seen.
“The Nau de Tudons is one of the most remarkable of the monuments in Minorca.”
(page [156])