Between Puerto Lapiche and Manzanarez, we passed through Villaharta, a place, attesting in its ruins, and wretchedness, the desolating effects of war; and we also stopped a little while at the venta de Quesada, under which the river Guadiana is supposed to flow. It is certain that the Guadiana looses itself about two leagues to the left, and again emerges at a short distance to the right of this venta. In approaching Manzanarez, the appearance of the country improves: a brilliant sunset blazed across the landscape, giving great richness to the fields, which were covered with the blue flower of the saffron; and touching with gaiety and lightness, even the unrefreshing green of the olives, which, in long straight avenues, intersected the wide plain.
Manzanarez is a place of some size, and of proportionate poverty. Almost all the surrounding land belongs to the knights of Calatrava, and to the Duke of San Carlos, who has extensive cellars of Val de Peñas, in the neighbourhood. The landlord of the posada, a fine old man of seventy, used to be entrusted with a commission to send prime wine of the country to his late Majesty, when Prince Regent: he made me taste a choice glass, which I found not at all inferior to that which I drank from the king’s cellar, at St. Ildefonso. At Manzanarez, I vacated my seat in the diligence,—securing for my next day’s journey, a small caleche, and two strong mules, by which I hoped to be carried to the foot of the Sierra Morena. If I had proceeded by the diligence, I must have passed through all the intervening country, and Val de Peñas, during the night. We supped well at this posada; and when I retired to bed, it was with the agreeable knowledge that I should not, like my travelling companions, be roused at midnight, to continue my journey. In taking leave of Polinario, I asked him if I might consider myself safe in sleeping the ensuing night in the venta, at the foot of the Sierra Morena; he replied, that he would desire them to prepare a bed for me, and that I might sleep in security. I slipped a dollar into his hand, and felt that I was secure in his promise.
I left Manzanarez before sunrise, and found my muleteer obliging and intelligent, and my mules active. Soon after leaving Manzanarez, the small town of Argamasilla de Alba is seen on the right: here it is, that Cervantes is said to have been imprisoned, and that the first part of Don Quixotte is said to have been written. Betwixt this point and Val de Peñas, I passed through a small village called Consolacion,—almost a ruin, from the effects of war; the inhabitants had in few instances rebuilt their houses, but had scooped out hovels and habitations in the rubbish. My vehicle attracted many to the outlets of these miserable abodes; and the inmates looked more like wild animals peeping from their dens, than civilized beings, looking from human habitations. In approaching Val de Peñas, the country improves, the land is evidently tilled with greater care, and the more anxious culture of the vine shews that the grape is here worth cultivating. Before entering Val de Peñas, I passed through an extensive olive plantation, in which I noticed several monumental crosses,—two of them, broken by the weight of stones with which the devout had burdened them.
Val de Peñas—“Valley of Stones”—is alike the name of the town, the district, and the wine: the latter makes the riches of both the others; and Val de Peñas is accordingly said to be the richest town in the Castiles. The wine of Val de Peñas, is the wine universally drank by the better classes all over the Castiles—indeed, it may almost be said, every where north of the Sierra Morena. But unlike most other wines, it is drunk most in perfection in the district where it grows; not because it is incapable of exportation; on the contrary, it has body enough to bear exportation to any climate: but because it is not tasted once in a hundred times free from the taint of the skins in which it is carried. When found in perfection, it is a wine deserving of being held in the highest estimation; there is a raciness about it, which would certainly recommend it to the English palate; and if a communication should ever be opened between La Mancha and the southern provinces, there is little doubt that the wine of Val de Peñas will find its way into the English ports. I visited one of the repositories of the richest growers, who told me he had there upwards of six thousand skins,—the average contents of the skin being about ten arrobas; and that the price of the wine bought upon the spot, would amount to about (in English currency and measure) 3l. 10s. per pipe. I saw no beggars in Val de Peñas; but neither is there any appearance of general comfort. The culture, and preparation of the wine, employ all the inhabitants; but wages are low, and the enjoyments which they purchase few. The wages of labour are about three reals (less than 7d.) per day. Mutton here sells at eight quartos; bread at six and a half quartos, per lb. Beef is not to be found in almost any part of La Mancha, and it is not esteemed.
Here, and in most other parts of La Mancha, it is the custom for women of the inferior orders, to throw over their heads the skirt of their petticoats; the veil and mantilla being only used by the upper ranks. This fact explains the passage in Don Quixotte, where, when Sancho tells his wife how great a lady she is destined to be when he is governor of an island, Theresa replies, “Neither will I put it in the power of those who see me dressed like a countess, or governor’s lady, to say, ‘Mind Mrs. Porkfeeder—how proud she looks! It was but yesterday she toiled hard at the distaff, and went to mass with the tail of her gown about her head, instead of a veil.’” In a hundred other instances, light is thrown upon the page of Cervantes, by travelling through La Mancha.
I left Val de Peñas, after a tolerable breakfast in one of the largest posadas I had seen in Spain; and immediately upon getting clear of the town, the Sierra Morena rose before me, apparently at no great distance. I passed through several small villages in approaching nearer to the Sierra, among others, St. Cruz, and La Concepcion de Almuradiel: between these two villages, the plain of La Mancha is lost among the outer ridges of the Sierra; and, excepting in the vicinity of the latter village, the country is scarcely cultivated. Between La Concepcion de Almuradiel, and the foot of the Sierra, the road constantly rises, though gradually; and about four in the afternoon, I arrived at the “Venta de Cardeñas,” where I purposed passing the night. I found a room and a bed,—such as they were,—prepared for me, as I had reason to expect from Polinario’s promise; and the host told me, that Polinario had enjoined him to take care of me; to give me a good supper, and to provide me with a steady mule to pass the Sierra.
The Venta de Cardenas, is a solitary house standing just under the mountain, upon a small elevation on the left side of the road. It is here where the famous adventure of the galley-slaves is placed by Cervantes, where, after Don Quixotte had delivered Gines de Passamonte and his companions from bondage, and after Sancho had his ass stolen, the knight and his squire entered the Brown Mountain, and met Cardenio; upon whose story the Drama of the Mountaineers has been constructed. This neighbourhood is still famous for the frequency of the robberies that take place in it; and it was in the identical Venta de Cardenas, that the greater number of Polinario’s robberies were committed; the landlord of the venta,—the same who inhabits it now,—had an understanding with Polinario; and in most instances, travellers were taken into this venta and stripped; this being considered safer and more convenient than stripping them on the highway.
About an hour after I arrived, the supper which had been bespoken, was placed before me; and having myself superintended the cookery, I had the satisfaction of sitting down to fowl and bacon, without either oil or garlic. The host told me, that upon the La Mancha side of the Sierra Morena, there was little danger of robbery; but that the moment I set foot in Andalusia, I might consider myself in constant jeopardy. The band of Don José, he said, was then scouring every part of Andalusia; and on some roads, scarcely any traveller escaped robbery. I afterwards found, that in this information he was correct; but just about the same time, the band of Don José was dispersed; upwards of twenty were made prisoners, and the leader, and about fifteen followers escaped to Portugal.
After dinner, it still wanted an hour of sunset; and this interval, and nearly another hour added to it, I spent in a ramble among the outposts of the Sierra. All the lower part of the mountain on this side is covered with a thick carpet of shrubs, and with millions of aromatic plants. Wild olives grow profusely over the lower acclivities; but higher up, and in the defiles, ilex and pine throw their deeper and broader shadows upon the mountain side. The silence of the hills is felt in its fullest extent on the Sierra Morena, because it is not broken by the music of mountain rills, whose playful gush, and varying tone, often go far towards neutralizing the character of solemnity which naturally belongs to mountain scenes. Almost all the waters of the Sierra Morena descend on the southern side, and flow towards the Mediterranean. I caught some fine mountain images before darkness forced me back to the venta. Sunny slopes, strewed with pale olives; and dark hill sides scattered with crooked ilex; golden peaks, and dusky ravines; milk-white goats descending the steeps, and the goatherd, such as he whose whistle startled Don Quixotte and his squire; small trains of mules, with their bells, and their muleteer, winding down the road towards the venta; and the broader shadows, and the fading light, and the dusky mountain, and the dark outline, piled against the unclouded heaven of Andalusian skies.
Leaving injunctions to call me before sunrise, I took a draught of Val de Peñas, and retired to my quarto, a small square apartment, with no furniture in it excepting one chair and my bed, which consisted of a mattress laid upon three boards, supported by two logs. The window was open, and not more than six or seven feet from the ground; but the assurance of Polinario was enough, and I slept well till awoke by the muleteer calling to me that my mule was ready. I swallowed a cup of chocolate while dressing, and was seated upon my mule, just as the highest peaks of the Sierra received the earliest message of day. It was as charming a morning as ever broke upon the mountain tops; the sky was one field of azure, with that pale green tinge peculiar to morning skies in the south of Spain; and the air felt so light and invigorating, that every draught was like the gush of a mountain spring. My mule trod sturdily up the steep winding road: and the muleteer, an Andalusian of Andujár, walked or ran as was necessary. Although early, we were not the earliest upon the road; for several trains of mules were seen winding round the brow of the opposite acclivities: these, though close at hand, were not speedily gained by the road, which was obliged frequently to ascend one side of a gorge, cross it at the extremity, and return by the other side to the point opposite to that by which we entered it. After about half a league of steep ascent, the first pass is obtained: here the scenery is wild and striking; the road passes beneath a succession of lofty rocky peaks, while on the other side, a deep and narrow gulf runs parallel with the road: if twelve or fourteen feet of rock were here blown up, this pass would be no longer a pass.