Spain in 1830, vol. 2

by Henry D. Inglis

From the first summit, I descended into a deep valley, and then ascended again, during at least two leagues. The sides of the mountain are scattered with evergreen oak, and a few ash trees, and are thickly covered with an underwood of shrubs; occasional glimpses are caught below, of openings into the deep and uninhabited lateral valleys of the Sierra; but as the road climbs towards the south, nature puts on a more cultivated aspect, and houses, and villages at a little distance, are seen scattered around. These are the new colonies, as they are still called, of the Sierra Morena, and the first of the villages we reach, is Santa Elena. Nothing can be more striking or agreeable than the contrast between the villages of the new settlements, and those we meet in other parts of the interior of Spain. Industry and activity were evidently at work every where around; the soil was forced to yield whatever crop was suited to it; and corn and pasture, and little patches of potato and cabbage land, smiled fresh and green around the cottages: these were of a better construction than the cabins of Spanish peasantry; and upon looking into some of them, I noticed all the necessary articles of common household furniture. The people too, were not seen looking from their doors in rags, or sitting under the walls wrapped up in their cloaks; they all seemed to have something to do, and went about their avocations with the air of persons who had no hankering after idleness. The secret is, that these people have an interest in what they do, for they labour upon their own property. The history of these settlements is probably known to every one; and yet; I can scarcely altogether pass it over.

Previous to the reign of Charles III., the Sierra Morena was entirely abandoned to banditti; but Don Pablo de Olavido, who then enjoyed a high office in the government of the province of Seville, conceived the design of colonizing the Sierra, and of supporting the colonists by their agricultural labour. One attempt failed, after a great outlay; but a second was, to a certain degree, successful. Settlers came from different parts of Germany, tempted by the liberal offers of the Spanish government; and it is their descendants who still people these colonies. Every settler received fifty pieces of land, every piece being ten thousand square feet—free of rent, for ten years; and afterwards, subject only to tithes. And if these pieces were brought under cultivation, another equally large portion was assigned to the cultivator. Along with his land, the colonist received the necessary articles of agricultural labour:—ten cows, an ass, two pigs, a cock and hen, and seed for his land; a house, and a bake-house: and the only incumbrance upon the property, was, a restriction in the power of disposing of it, which no settler had the liberty of doing in favour of any person already in the enjoyment of a lot; so that the possessions of the colonists could neither become less nor greater; excepting by their own industry.

But, notwithstanding the many advantages and privileges which these colonies enjoy; and although, in comparison with the ordinary run of Spanish villages, the villages of the new settlements present an aspect of comfort and industry; the colonies have never been entirely successful, and are said to be less flourishing every year. At present, there is no increase of riches among them; all they are able to do, is merely to support themselves in tolerable comfort: the only cause that can be assigned for this negative prosperity, must be referred to a deficient outlet for the produce of their labour. It is evident, that without a market, the labour of the agriculturist is useless, and will soon be restricted to that point which is fixed by the wants of himself and his family.

Soon after leaving Santa Elena, the prospect opens towards the south; the highest ridges of the Sierra lie behind, and Andalusia stretches below. About three leagues beyond Santa Elena, lies La Carolina, the capital of the new settlements; where I arrived early in the afternoon. This is really a neat, clean town; and the apparent excellence of the posada almost tempted me to yield to the instances of the muleteer, who wished me to make my night’s quarters at this place; but I had resolved to sleep at Baylen, that I might have a short day’s journey on the morrow, to Anduxar.

Nature exhibits a new appearance when we leave Carolina, and descend into the plain of Andalusia: the olive grounds are no longer groves, but forests; the ilex does not dot, but clothes the sides of the mountains; innumerable new shrubs, and varieties of aromatic plants, unseen before, cover every spot of waste land; and the hedges by the way-side, are composed of gigantic aloes. All the way from La Carolina to Baylen, I passed through a country rich in corn and oil;—a wide, undulating plain, bounded on the south by the mountains of Granada; and here and there, upon the southern ridges of the Sierra Morena, which forms the northern boundary of the plain, were seen the ruins of Moorish castles. At nightfall I reached Baylen, celebrated as the field of battle where Castanos gained the decided victory which subsequently led to the evacuation of Madrid.

I almost regretted that I had not yielded to the temptation of a good posada at Carolina, as the guide led my mule into the yard of a very wretched posada at Baylen. I found a bed, however, not worse than usual; and for supper, I was forced to be contented with fried eggs, and excellent wine, and a delicious melon. My journey had been long and fatiguing; and defying the mosquitos, by throwing a handkerchief over my face, I slept soundly till morning. It may be charity to the traveller, to mention a contrivance which I afterwards adopted as a defence against the assaults of mosquitos. Mosquito curtains are nowhere to be found in Spain, not even in the very best hotels, and every one is not able to sleep with a handkerchief thrown over the face. I purchased a piece of thin muslin about a yard square, and loaded the sides of it with small leaden weights, the muslin having been previously much starched: this, thrown over the head, leaves ample breathing room; and the weights keeping it down on all sides, it rarely happens that a mosquito gains admittance within.

I left Baylen, as usual, about sun rise; and immediately entered a wild, but highly picturesque valley. A turbulent stream, called Rio de las Piedras—“river of stones,” dashed through it,—its banks, wherever the rocks admitted a tuft of green, covered with the bright pink flower of a shrub unknown to me: ilex, here and there diversified by a tall round-headed pine, clustered in the hollows, and strewed the sides of the acclivities; and a party of muleteers, and their mules, resting under the shade of a clump of trees, added greatly to the picturesqueness of the landscape. Several of these figures forcibly reminded me that I was now in the country of Murillo. The short brown hair, the ragged and patched brown coat and trowsers, the bare feet, and the occupation—breaking bread, and eating fruit, all carried me to those admirable portraitures of Spanish life, which have so often and so successfully engaged the pencil of this illustrious master.

There is little to interest between leaving this valley, and arriving at Andujar. I passed through extensive woods, both of olives and ilex, where I counted three crosses; and the muleteer assured me it was not at all unlikely that we might be robbed before reaching Andujar; though he admitted that our probabilities of escape were greater, owing to its being morning. This is considered one of the most dangerous spots between Madrid and Seville: about a week after my arrival at the latter place, the mail was robbed within about two leagues of Andujar. This robbery was attended with one circumstance, rather inconsistent with the usual civility of Spanish banditti. After every package had been rifled, the four passengers,—three gentlemen and one lady,—were stripped, all excepting the camisa, and in this plight were put into the carriage: the postilion also made his entry into Andujar in his shirt, I reached the Venta de Lequaca, however, without interruption; and after resting there an hour, taking chocolate, and refreshing my mule, I continued my journey, and arrived at Andujar early in the afternoon.

Here I dismissed my mule and muleteer; though yet unresolved in what manner to proceed to Cordova and Seville: but soon after, learning that a light waggon and seven mules would leave Andujar at four next morning, I engaged a place in it to Cordova.

The situation of Andujar is fine: it stands at the head of a wide plain, watered throughout its whole extent by the Guadalquivir, which I saw here for the first time; and the advanced slopes of the Sierra Morena rise close to the north of the town. Every where round, the country is under cultivation; a fine soil, and a delightful climate, insuring an abundant return: and the banks of the river, and the slopes of the Sierra are covered with vines and olives. The city itself is of considerable size, containing nearly twenty thousand inhabitants, six churches, and nine convents. I remarked an evident improvement in the appearance of the people: they were better clothed and better looking than the Castilians; but notwithstanding this, the population of Andujar, as well as of Cordova, is said to be a bad population,—thievish, deceitful, and violent. It is certain that, with the exception of the coast between Cadiz and Malaga, more robberies are committed in the neighbourhood of Andujar than in any other part of Spain.