Spain in 1830, vol. 2

by Henry D. Inglis

The paseos of Valencia are scarcely proportionate to the greatness of the city; but indeed, every road from Valencia is a paseo, because they all lead through its beautiful plain, and are all skirted by trees, close enough planted to afford a sufficient shade. The captain-general, too, kindly throws open his garden, which is remarkable for its profusion of flowers, its myrtle bowers, its acacias, and its orange-trees, which I saw there for the first time as a wall-fruit. I counted no fewer than sixteen in one cluster.

I have several times spoken of “Valencia tiles,” which, in all the cities of the south of Spain, are used for floors; and are not only highly ornamental, but most appropriate to the climate. In Valencia, these tiles are, of course, more universally in use than elsewhere, owing to their greater cheapness; but the best qualities are expensive, even when bought at the manufactory. I saw there a very large assortment, varying in price according to the design, from two to six reals; and when it is considered that the squares are not more than nine inches, it is obvious, that to cover an extensive suite of apartments with these at 1s. a-piece, must be greatly more expensive than the most sumptuous carpet. A good workman, employed in painting the tiles, earns as much as a dollar per day.

I now prepared to leave Valencia. There is a diligence twice a week to Barcellona; but, being desirous of visiting the site of the ancient Saguntum (now Murviedro), I resolved to make only partial use of the public conveyance. Accordingly, having hired a tartana, I left Valencia after an early breakfast, and took the road to Murviedro. About half a league from Valencia, stands the Convento de los Reyes, one of the richest in Spain; and leaving my little vehicle at the gate, I applied for leave to see the interior, which was immediately accorded by a very civil, and even courteous monk, who accompanied me through the building. In a former chapter, when speaking of the riches of the convents, I referred to this, and mentioned the conversation that passed between the friar and myself; I need not, therefore, repeat it here. The chief distinction, however, of this convent, is the collection of manuscripts which were bequeathed to it by the founder, who, along with his magnificent endowment, enjoined that every day, and for ever, a mass should be said for the repose of his soul. Among the manuscripts, I was shown a fine copy of Livy, and many illuminated copies of the fathers; but the chief treasure is the Roman de la Rose, of so early a date as the ninth century. I was glad to see the friar show something like enthusiasm in displaying these literary treasures.

Still continuing to pass through the rich vale, we gradually approached the ancient Saguntum; and passing a thick olive wood, where I observed two Franciscan friars tending a flock of sheep, we wound round the base of the hill upon which the fortress stands, and entered the town. One can scarcely be accused of affectation in saying that this spot, so connected with the most momentous periods in Carthagenian and Roman history, cannot be viewed with indifference; and I hastened to leave the posada and ascend the hill. The hill of Saguntum, about a mile and a half long, and less than a quarter of a mile broad, is now surmounted by a modern fortress; but mingled with its walls, and covering other parts of the summit of the hill, and strewing its sides, the ruins of the ancient Saguntum are every where visible. The most entire among these ruins, though quite a ruin, is the theatre; parts of the outer walls are still standing, and the seats hewn out of the rock, are likely to remain for ever. I ascended to the summit by a steep ascent, but by a good road, constructed from the town to the fortress, where I was admitted after a little hesitation. Even if there had been no vestige of antiquity here, the view from the summit would have well repaid the labour of the ascent; for the wide, rich, and populous plain of Valencia stretched before me, bounded, forty miles distant, by the mountains of San Felipe,—the city in its centre; the sea, almost washing the foot of the hill, spread towards the south, bounded by the horizon; while to the north and east, ruins spread over the fore-ground, backed by a range of romantic mountains; and the coast of Valencia, stretched in a long curve of green and wooded fertility, till no longer distinguishable from the waters that laved it.

Whether owing to the length of time I lingered in the fortress, or my narrow scrutiny of its walls and ramparts, or the rumours of revolution and refugees, I somehow awakened the suspicions of the non-commissioned officer on guard; and while looking into a small ruined building that seemed half ancient, half modern, I was addressed by a soldier, who said he had instructions to carry me before the governor. I of course made no remonstrance, especially as I had satisfied my curiosity, and suffered myself to be marched into the town, and to the governor’s house, attended by a corporal, and followed by a soldier with his shouldered musket. The governor had gone to the paseo, and although I knew that dinner was ready at the posada, I was obliged to wait the return of this great man. The soldiers desired me rather roughly to wait in the open yard; but I took the liberty of knocking at the governor’s door; and entering his house without leave, I seated myself upon his sofa to wait his arrival. When he entered the room, I took the first word, saying it was the most extraordinary thing in the world that an Englishman, carrying a proper passport, should be marched through the town like a felon, and detained for an hour, when his conduct had afforded no ground of suspicion. The governor replied that the soldiers supposed I was a Frenchman. He looked slightly at my passport, said he was sorry I had been detained, and I made my bow, well pleased to return to the posada and to dinner.

But although I had escaped from the governor, the alcalde thought himself bound, as civil magistrate, to take some cognizance of a stranger who had attracted the suspicion of the military powers. Accordingly, while I was sitting after dinner, enjoying my dessert, and a bottle of excellent wine, two visitors were announced; and the alcalde, with a sabre buckled round his waist, and with some lesser insignia of office, and accompanied by a friend, entered the apartment. He laid aside his sabre, lighted his segar, and then explained the object of his visit. Strict orders, he said, had been received at all the fortified towns along the sea coast, to keep a watchful eye upon strangers, particularly French; and as positive injunctions had been given by the governor, that no stranger should be admitted within the fortress, it was supposed I had bribed the soldiers. I answered, that in the first place I was not a Frenchman; and that in the second place, I had not bribed the soldiers, unless he considered it bribery to give a peceta to the person who took the trouble to walk round the fortress with me. The alcalde then said, that if I was not a Frenchman, that altered the case; that he knew I had told the governor I was an Englishman; but that the governor was so short-sighted, that he could not read my designation, &c., in the passport; and that he (the alcalde) would be glad to see it. With this request I of course immediately complied; and the alcalde being satisfied from an inspection of my passport, that I was, what I pretended to be, buckled on his sabre, re-lighted his segar, which the importance of his mission had made him forget; and with an apology for the intrusion, left me to relate the history of his visit in the next room, where I heard his voice, along with others, at least an hour longer.

I knew that between Murviedro and Tarragona there was not much to interest the traveller; and I accordingly resolved to take advantage of the diligence which passes through Murviedro before midnight, on its way to Barcellona. I found a vacant place, and rolled onward as fast as seven mules could carry me. I passed in the dark, through Nules, and Villa Real; and through a country, as far as I was able to judge, fertile and well wooded. At the earliest dawn we reached Castellon; but it was too early to gain admittance to the church of Dominicans, or the chapel of la Saugne, where there were once, and perhaps still are, some good pictures by Ribalta, who was a native of this town. By travelling six hours in the dark, I had also missed the aqueduct of Almasora, interesting to antiquarians. But this aqueduct being a tunnel almost the whole of its length, cannot possess any of those attractions which are allied with the majestic, or the picturesque; and which are the chief sources of interest to those who do not make antiquities a study.

From Castellon we passed through a fine country, and between immense fences of aloes, to Venicasi,—an inconsiderable place with a fine church,—and not long after, we reached Cropesa, whose castle, crowning the summit of a high rock, and rising out of woods, overlooks the sea. The castle of Cropesa, which gives its name to a military order, is now a ruin, having been entirely destroyed by the French. A country, but partially cultivated, lies between Venicasi and Torreblanca. The rich carpet of aromatic plants, and the luxuriance of the trees, shew what the soil is capable of; but the temporal, as well as spiritual sovereignty exercised by the Bishop of Tortosa, falls so heavily upon the produce of land, that it is not able to support its burdens; and therefore lies for the most part uncultivated. Torreblanca, a poor little place, is undeserving of notice; but Alcala, which lies two leagues behind it, is a pretty town, remarkable for a magnificent church, and for the number of its clergy. The dinner at the posada appeared so little inviting,—the soup covered with oil, and the stew fragrant with garlic,—that I preferred a stroll through the town, and a loaf of bread.

The drive along the sea coast, from Alcala to Venicarlo, is singularly pleasing; the road is generally close to the sea, which is not here, as we are accustomed to see it in northern countries, bounded by barren sands, or chalky cliffs; but is fringed by the finest verdure, and often throws its little impotent waves almost to the roots of the lovely Algarrobos that bend over it. The sun, too, was getting low; the sea glittered beneath it, and the crowded trunks of the dark green trees, were all bright in its beams. Venicarlo, I have already mentioned as famous for its exported wines; but there is also a wine made for consumption, which I tasted as we changed mules, and found it so excellent, that I filled a small wine-skin with it, which I borrowed from the conductor. The chief produce of the country between Venicarlo and the river Ebro, after the vineyards cease, is the Algarrobo. In this part of Spain, the bean is bought of the owner at sixteen reals three quarters the quintal; and I was informed, that a good bearing tree will produce about four quintals and a half: this, however, I can scarcely credit. The produce of a single tree would, in that case, be worth 15s.; and a forest of Algarrobos would therefore be the most productive of all lands. It was dusk before we reached the confines of Catalunia, and the bank of the Ebro,—here a very different stream from that which I had crossed at Miranda, where it divides old Castile from Biscay. The river, at Amposta, is about three hundred yards wide,—less than might be expected from a river which runs so long a course as the Ebro,—and within so short a distance of the sea. We crossed in a boat, and walked to the venta, which is about a mile distant from the bank. Here we remained all night; but the entrance to Catalunia was rather discouraging. Although the diligence was expected, no supper had been provided, nor was there any thing in the house that could be converted into a supper. I was forced to be contented with a cup of chocolate; and the night being cold, and the fire bad, I was glad to escape to bed.

We were now in Catalunia, which in its accommodations, in the industry of its inhabitants, and in the perfect security with which it may be travelled in every part, has the advantage over all the other provinces of Spain, with the exception, perhaps, of Biscay. It is not, however, more, but perhaps less interesting to the traveller, for these very reasons; if the accommodations on the road are better, they are more like other countries, and therefore less novel; if there be no danger from robbers, there is less excitement; and as for the industry of the Catalunians, industry, although always a pleasing spectacle, possesses no novelty. Catalunian industry does not arise from any superior education, by which men obtain a clearer insight into their moral duties, and higher views of the human character; on the contrary, no Spanish peasant is more ignorant than a Catalunian boor; none are more enslaved by the priesthood; and in no other province, have the inhabitants shewn so much, their veneration for the apostolical party both in church and state. The secret of Catalunian industry, is the same as that which has covered with fertility many an Alpine valley in Switzerland,—self-interest. Give to the labourers of the earth an interest,—a property in the land which they cultivate, and the world would become one wide extended garden. The land upon which the Catalunian labours, is either his own, or held by him upon a lease, sometimes for lives, sometimes in perpetuity, with a fine upon succession or alienation; but at all events, for so long a period as to invest the tenant with a real interest in the property which he cultivates.