Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 15001900

PORT CITIES OF ATLANTIC IBERIA, c. 1500–1900

I dedicate this book to Ríoghnach, Niamh and Ross O’Flanagan

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

PATRICK O’FLANAGAN University College Cork, Ireland

© Patrick O’Flanagan 2008 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. Patrick O’Flanagan has asserted his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work. Published by Ashgate Publishing Limited Gower House Croft Road Aldershot Hampshire GU11 3HR England

Ashgate Publishing Company Suite 420 101 Cherry Street Burlington, VT 05401-4405 USA

www.ashgate.com British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data O’Flanagan, Patrick Port cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900 1. Harbours – Spain – History 2. Harbours – Portugal – History 3. Urbanization – Spain – History 4. Urbanization – Portugal – History I. Title 387.1’0946’0903 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data O’Flanagan, Patrick, 1946Port cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900 / by Patrick O’Flanagan. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-0-7546-6109-2 (alk. paper) 1. Harbours–Spain–History. 2. Harbours–Portugal–History. 3. Urbanization–Spain–History. 4. Urbanization–Portugal–History. I. Title. HE557.S6O35 2008 387.10946’0903–dc22 2007047286

ISBN 978-0-7546-6109-2

Contents List of Figures List of Plates List of Tables Preface Acknowledgements

ix xi xiii xv xvii

PART I PORTS AND THE ATLANTIC Introduction Ports in literature Theorising port cities

3 6 9

1

Iberian Urban Contexts Iberian urban evolution – the place of ports Degrees and ‘zones’ of urbanisation Recent urban change

15 17 17 18

2

Formation and Geography of the Atlantic and Transatlantic Economies The inner Atlantic The Portuguese Atlantic The Spanish Atlantic Other Atlantics: Dutch, English and French arenas The management of empires Ships and ports of Atlantic Iberia

19 20 22 25 26 29 34

PART II THE MONOPOLY: SEVILLE, CÁDIZ AND THE ANDALUSI PORT COMPLEX 3

Seville Locale and context The monopoly Facilitating institutions Trade The urban economy Early morphology and ‘port’ Golden Age port city Residence Society, class and ethnic diversity Population change: Barometer of vitality Seville’s decline

39 39 42 45 49 53 58 59 64 66 71 73

vi

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Seville stagnates Seville in a post-metropole economy Seville becoming modern

75 77 78

4

Cádiz and La Bahía de Cádiz Morphological inheritance Early port and trade Monopoly and enlightenment: Cádiz during the eighteenth century A new monopoly Trade Shipping management and routes Commodities, sailors, ships and voyages Urban inheritance Seismic expansion and maturation Defence and the port Commercial hierarchy Mid-eighteenth century Cádiz: What does the Catastro tell us? Occupational structure Residence, lifestyle and society Sanlúcar and El Puerto de Santa María and colonial trade Cádiz: Free trade and aftermath Economic and urban re-orientation

81 83 84 85 86 88 91 92 94 98 100 101 104 105 108 110 112 113

5

The Atlantic Archipelagoes The Canaries: Settlement and port development Early ‘colonial’ economy Trade during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries Eighteenth-century commerce Port forelands Azores and Madeira port complexes

117 117 118 120 121 123 125

6

Another Metropole: Lisbon Phases of trade, port evolution and urban growth Monopoly, metropole and its institutions Trade: Imports, exports and re-exports Lisbon: Locale and context Discovery port city: Early legacies Lisbon, 1580–1755 Trade, economy and the carreira: Late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries Earthquake and reconstruction Pombaline Lisbon Manufactories Merchants and ‘dependence’ Eighteenth-century port throughput Lisbon’s foreland Reconstruction and re-orientation during the nineteenth century A new city emerges Oporto and Lisbon: Contrasts and correspondences

129 131 132 135 143 146 150 152 155 156 159 160 162 164 165 169 170

Contents

7

Castile and the Atlantic Atlantic wool trade Ploughmen, cowmen and shepherds Cities, towns and villages Three sets of towns The decline of Castile Madrid as capital: Implications for Castile and the Atlantic world

vii

173 175 178 179 180 185 187

PART III A SECOND TIER OF PORTS 8

Oporto: Fortified Wine and Colonial Commerce Trade and traffic prior to the eighteenth century Commercial success during the eighteenth century Locale and context Urban expansion in a century of prosperity Asphyxiation and re-orientation Structuring change during the nineteenth century

193 193 195 197 200 203 204

9

Corunna: A Provincial Port Regional context Early modern maritime hub: Pontevedra Corunna: Early forelands Three carreras Locale and context Early modern endowment Becoming a provincial port settlement Libre comercio and urban morphology: What relationships? Reorientation and expansion Immigration, industry and mail port More Galician and Asturian ports

207 207 209 210 214 217 218 220 222 224 225 226

10

Santander: Wheat and Wool Emporium Locale and context Early trading vocation Foreland and hinterland evolution Reorientation and growth, c.1750–c.1900 The road to Reinosa A new political economy Revival of wool exports Early morphological legacies Port and town during the wheat and colonial trading boom Merchants and residence What undid Santander?

231 231 232 233 236 236 237 239 245 248 250 253

11

Basque Maritime Heritage and Port Development Bilbao: Unpromising beginnings

255 257

viii

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Movers and shakers The dispersal of imports Port and settlement evolution Economy, population and expansion during the eighteenth century Formation and take-off of an industrial port city City and port from the mid-nineteenth century Golden years, c.1875–1914 Overview

264 264 267 269 270 276 277 282

Conclusions

283

Select Bibliography Index

295 329

List of Figures 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6

Seville: Context and locale Pre-reconquest Seville Seville: Discovery city Religious institutions, gates and walls Street layouts in the parishes of San Lorenzo and San Vicente Vessel movements from Seville, 1600–1720

40 41 60 63 65 74

4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6

Cádiz: Context and locale Trade routes from Cádiz during the eighteenth century Phases of development at Cádiz, 1576–1772 Cádiz: Density of population Late eighteenth-century parishes Torres miradores in late eighteenth-century Cádiz

82 86 95 96 99 109

6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 6.5 6.6

Economic integration of late nineteenth-century Portugal Tejo and Sado estuaries Medieval Lisbon Lisbon: Discovery city Lisbon: Late nineteenth-century boulevards and avenues Lisbon: Vilas, housing and industry

130 145 147 148 166 170

7.1

Northern Atlantic Iberia: Mid-eighteenth-century urban populations

178

8.1 8.2 8.3

Ports of northern Portugal Medieval and eighteenth-century Oporto Oporto, c.1820–72

198 199 202

9.1 9.2 9.3 9.4 9.5

Principal eighteenth-century roads within and between Galicia and Castile Corunna: Routes and overseas port forelands, 1778–1818 Value of total exports from Galicia to Buenos Aires and Montevideo, 1767–1816 Marín’s 1755 plan of Corunna Late nineteenth-century links between Asturian ports and Castile

208 213 216 219 228

10.1 10.2 10.3 10.4 10.5 10.6

Santander Bay in the seventeenth century Origins of wood exported from Santander during the seventeenth century Exports of flour and wheat from Santander, 1746–1892 Santander, c.1582 Santander, c.1750 Santander, c.1801

232 235 238 246 249 250

11.1 11.2

Leading settlements in Basque coastal provinces Bilbao and the Nervión

256 262

x

11.3 11.4 11.5

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Bilbao in the early eighteenth century Old and new Bilbao and its nineteenth-century ensanche Bilbao, c.1900: Railways, roads and mines

268 273 274

List of Plates The Plates are located between pages 142–143. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Seville, c.1557, Hoefnagel Seville, 1617, Anonymous Plano geométrico de la ciudad de Sevilla, 1778, Tomás López Vista de Cádiz, 1513, Anonymous Cádiz, 1567, Anton Van Wyngaerde Lisboa, 1571, De la fabrica que falece ha cidade de Lisboa Vista de la ciudad de Lisboa [Olisippo Lisabona, c.1550], G. Braun Planta Topografico de Lisboa, 1650, Tinoco Planta Topografica da Cidade de Lisboa arruinada, e tambem Segundo o novo alinhamneto do architetos, c.1758, dos Santos Carvalho and Carlos Mardel, Vieira da Silva+ Plano geral da cidade de Lisboa em 1785, D. Millicent Cidade do Porto, 1813 Plano de la ciudad y Pescadería de La Coruña, 1725, F. de Montaigu Plano de la Plaza de La Coruña con su nuebo proyecto, 1755, M. Marín Plano topográfico de la Ciudad Alta de La Coruña, capital del Reyno 1819, Felipe Guianzo Santander, c.1582, Hoefnagel Bilbao, 1572

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List of Tables I.1

Population: New World port settlements, 1780–1800

12

4.1 4.2 4.3

Cádiz: Goods and shipping movements, 1717–78 Cádiz: Shipping movements, 1681–1772 Cádiz: Occupational groups (male only), 1753

92 94 106

5.1

Canary Islands: Port populations, 1755–1842

120

6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4

Lisbon: Commodity flows, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries Brazil: Export phases, 1500–1860 Lisbon: Phases of growth Brazil: Export phase, 1500–1800

136 143 148 163

10.1 10.2 10.3 10.4 10.5 10.6

Exports from Santander to Veracruz, 1785–95 (reales de vellón) Trade from the port of Santander, 1795–1804 Value of trade with American colonies, 1778–93 (reales de vellón) Colonial goods dispatched from Santander to the rest of Spain, 1843–48 (arrobas) Sugar imports to Santander, 1828–32 and 1844–48 Tolls collected at the Port of Santander, 1846–68

240 240 241 242 243 243

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Preface This book developed as a challenge mainly to the work of E. Evans, former Professor of Geography at Queens University Belfast. It also crystallised as a reaction to what Irish geographers of my generation were doing; where they went for training, what their research concerns were and what they wrote about. My first visit to Spain and Portugal was in 1963, while I was still at school in Ireland. From a personal perspective, I believe it is impossible to write about a topic ‘without having been there’! Weeks have been devoted to walking around all of these ports, visiting archives and libraries, talking to professors, architects, sailors and anyone who would share their time with me, and reading everything possible dealing with these ports and their forelands and hinterlands. I have earnestly tried to cite all the references I have consulted. If I have failed in any instance, the responsibility is mine.

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Acknowledgements My debts are numerous; for earlier and ongoing inspiration, I would like to thank Tom Jones Hughes, John Andrews, John Naylon, Louis Cullen, Robin Butlin and the late Frederic Mauro. In Portugal, the late Orlando Ribeiro, Jorge Gaspar, João Carlos Garcia, Rosa Moreira da Silva and my students João Sarmento and José Horta all helped in various ways. Likewise, in Spain, I am indebted to Pilar Torres Luna, José-Manuel Souto González and archivists in all the ports but especially Manuel Ravina and Javier Reina at Cádiz. I would like to thank the late Joaquin Vecín González and his wife María José, José María Casado Soto, Manel Guàrdia and Josep Ramoneda (of the CCCB at Barcelona to whom I owe a special debt for his permission to publish several adapted maps), Tito Prieto, Carlos Macias and my student Carlos Ferrás Sexto and his wife Yolanda. In Ireland, my friends and colleagues Séamas and Maj Ó Cátháin and William and Teresa Nolan deserve special thanks. At University College, Cork, at the Department of Geography, Noreen McDowell, Agnes O’Leary, Bernadette O’Donovan and Suzanne O’Sullivan helped with many complex formatting and typing assignments, Michael Murphy did Trojan work and was responsible for all the illustrations ably assisted by Helen Bradley; Brendan Dockery provided support way beyond his call of duty. I would also like to thank my colleagues and students for all kinds of assistance and particularly Barry Brunt, Kevin Hourihan and W.J. Smyth. Particular thanks are due to UCC Library staff and especially Jill and Phil in the Inter-Library Loan section and all those in Q-1. I must acknowledge the very worthwhile suggestions of several anonymous readers. The College of Celtic Studies, Arts and Social Science kindly assisted with a grant towards the cost of publication. At Ashgate, I would like to acknowledge the support and help of Emily Yates, Barbara Pretty, Sarah Price and John Smedley. I would like to thank Martin Hargreaves for careful work on the index. All errors and omissions are my responsibility alone.

Publisher’s Note Every effort has been made to trace all copyright holders for the illustrative material included in this book, but if any have been inadvertently overlooked the publisher will be pleased to make the necessary arrangements at the first opportunity.

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Part I Ports and the Atlantic

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Introduction Sailors, ships, docks, harbours, slaves, exotic and routine products, warehouses, distinctive smells, fish, merchant princes and prostitutes, ethnic diversity and cosmopolitanism are among the characteristics which have made port cities and towns what they are and were, and which have caught the attention of many authors (Hugill, 1967; Rudolf, 1980; Mollat du Jourdan, 1993; Runyan, 1997; Walvin, 1997). Port settlements from early times were an urban type found on every continent (Villiers and Dutiel, 1997). A port’s activities propel the emergence of a specific type of urban community and, in addition, may also reshape, reorder and transform its hinterland and configure its foreland (Wrigley, 1990). Outside Europe, after the so-called ‘Discoveries’, the political economies in vogue endowed the elites of these ports with enormous economic and political influence, which extended to the cover vast areas of their forelands and hinterlands (Briost, 1997). Many visitors to ports in the past were not impressed by what they saw. Arthur Young writing about Bordeaux noted: ‘the way of its merchants here is extremely lavish’. He described the harbour at Bordeaux as: ‘one dirty slippery muddy bank with unpaved areas covered in detritus … it was without the order, the arrangement and the opulence of a quay’. There are problems that require attention in any quest to define what constitutes a port city. Some settlements may only become port cities after a former existence during which the port was of little consequence, as in the case of Santander. Others are like Seville, whose port’s all embracing functions were overshadowed by the emergence of new functions and have since withered. Whatever the case, port cities represent a recognisable settlement type. It is argued here that several different types of port cities emerged within Europe, and especially Atlantic Iberia, largely as a consequence of the implementation of a particular brand of political economy: The concept of the port city in historical studies ... has scarcely advanced beyond the stage of definition. That is a curious state of affairs for an urban type that has dominated urban civilisation from antiquity until the twentieth century. (Konvitz, 1978, p.115)

Such a statement may today appear unduly harsh; it does, however, have more than a ring of truth about it, as far as the study by geographers of historic European port cities is concerned. Although geographic concepts have been brought to bear on these kinds of cities in multi-cultural contexts (Broeze, 1989), perhaps one of the factors which has deterred scholars from grappling with this urban type is their incredible complexity and their capacity for abrupt change. Their problematic and discontinuous documentary records are a central issue. For instance, unravelling synchronisation of movement of goods from port hinterlands to ports and then simultaneously linking them with shipping activity and physical growth in the past is notoriously difficult to divine: take the case of wool intake to Bilbao and its dispatch by sea (Phillips and Phillips, 1997). The notion of the port city as a generic settlement type has also been obfuscated by the general failure to grapple with these settlements in their entirety (Lee, 1998). Some studies that address ports are oblivious to their urban locales (Caselli and Lemaine, 1991). Others have examined the cities while relegating the port to an auxiliary position and the consequences of this are severe:

4

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900 ... we either have studies of ports with no reference to the cities which they relate to; or we have studies which discuss port cities as if there were no maritime functions that could influence the spatial and social evolution of the city. (Reeves et al., 1989, p. 29).

Whatever about the problems of definition, there is a vague scholarly consensus that port settlements represent a distinctive urban category (Price, 1974; Hohenberg and Lees, 1985; Barioch et al., 1988). Settlements so defined often have more in common with each other than with the states or the regions where they were/are located. Port cities have also had a global incidence and they represent some of the earliest known urban settlements (Lawton and Lee, 2002). Here one can invoke the example of the Phoenicians and their port network extending from Beirut via Syracuse to Gadir (Cádiz). Even in antiquity, some of the great ports were planned and some enjoyed immediate spectacular success, as was the case with Alexandria. Europe’s most populous city, Istanbul, strangely not always posted in urban league tables, must rank as one of the world’s most complex, remarkable and longstanding port cities (Mantran, 1996; Mansel, 1997). Port cities were centres of diffusion on both sides of the Atlantic and, in the New World, they unleashed prodigious environmental changes as settlers fanned out and established their capitalist monocultures with all of the attendant implications for indigenous societies, their landscapes and nature (Cronon, 1990). Port cities were not simply passive agents in this endeavour; through them returned a host of plants (Schiebinger, 2004). This has transformed our back and front gardens and our botanical gardens (Hoyles, 1991). They augmented Europe’s bio-diversity to an unprecedented extent (Hoyles, 1991; Miller and Reill, 1996; Walvin, 1997). Gold, silver, spices, precious timber, dyes, highly valued medicines and drugs passed through them as did thousands and thousands of slaves (Blackburn, 1997). For some time, it made the Atlantic less white and more ‘black’ (Gilroy, 1993; Northrup, 1994). Ports linked Africa and Africans to a transoceanic system (Eltis, 2000; Thornton, 1998). The European thirst for new beverages and their accompaniments, from chocolate to gin, fundamentally changed the way Europeans lived and these new tastes were facilitated in the form of new social locales such as coffee houses and gin palaces. Nevertheless, port cities were agents of the world of colonialism and imperialism and they thrived in these contexts (Brotton, 1997). Alphabets, languages and religions were carried in and out of many ports (Cabantous, 1970). Mapmakers constructed new worlds in ports such as Amsterdam and Seville (Buisseret, 1993). On the ground, port cities configured social structures with distinctive characteristics, not least in the attraction of foreign merchants who played catalytic roles in all aspects of the careers of these settlements. In this way, the study of port cities is intimately connected to our growing understanding of the complexity of urbanism (Jansen, 1996). Their study must also contribute to our knowledge of globalisation and the historical geography of modernity (Butel, 1997) This study examines, within an Atlantic Iberian context, the evolution of metropole port settlements, the relationships between their forms, their changing functions and their shifting social configurations. In addition, their roles as trading breakpoints mean that the connections and movements between their forelands and hinterlands must also be explored. In Portugal and Spain, state-inspired political economies embodied in sophisticated monopoly policies had profound influences on the articulation of trade passing through ports with exclusive rights. They can be termed metropoles and it was these policies that made and undid them. Another kind of monopoly drove a wool trade to the ports of Bilbao and Santander. Inertia after the suspension of the monopoly allowed the monopoly ports to thrive for some time afterwards; the consequences of American independence and civil unrest unleashed by Napoleon had very different outcomes. Three centres, namely Seville, Cádiz and Lisbon were endowed with consummate mercantile privileges. Effectively, many other peninsular port settlements were simply embargoed from

Introduction

5

trading with the colonies, and the consequences of exclusion for four key ports are also examined. This study then focuses on the implications of state-sponsored commercial policies for the main ports of Atlantic Iberia during the monopoly period extending from 1503 to c.1778. It also briefly considers the implications of the suppression of monopoly for these centres over the remainder of the nineteenth century. Can, for example, the demographic, functional and physical expansion of ports be linked to particular trading conjunctures? At centre-stage in the inquiry is an analysis of the changing urban fabric, functions, population, nature and volumes of trading, foreland–hinterland relationships, merchant ideologies and commercial networks under the auspices of the monopoly and its immediate legacies. The relationship between political economy, trade and port development during and in the aftermath of the monopoly form the core of the analysis. The book is concerned with the connections between policy, trade, urban growth and decline. It deals, in so far as is possible, with the institutions established to implement exclusionist policies at port level and omits consideration of the roles of municipal bodies and the church to urban growth. It is about ports, their changing fabrics, their evolution and exegesis and how monopoly policies influenced the kind of societies that emerged within them. After all, the arrival of such copious amounts of colonial goods at a number of specific ports recalibrated the peninsula’s port hierarchy and facilitated the appearance of a distinctive urban social composition. The study seeks to pinpoint how and when they grew, but does not purport to examine either their social histories or the contributions of civic administrations to their careers. The book is organised as follows. It begins with a consideration of the historiography of port settlements and this is followed by a discussion of their leading attributes and an assessment of the types of port settlements recognised in the literature. The context of these settlements is explored specifically on the Iberian Peninsula. As a counterpoint to urban evolution, there is a chapter that addresses the evolution of political economic structures, their reflection in colonial trading patterns and the emergence of different Atlantic worlds and their ‘histories’. Linked to this is a section which deals with some of the key instruments that were devised to manage the Portuguese and Spanish Atlantic empires and how merchants organised commerce within these confines. The remaining parts of the work discuss the relationships between the patterns and contents of trade and port settlement evolution in a series of discrete areas. To begin with, metropoles of Atlantic Andalusia, namely Seville and those of the Bahia of Cádiz, are scrutinised. Then Lisbon’s role as an imperial metropole, capital city and premier port city are considered. As outports or anteports of the peninsula, the roles of some of the islands of the Atlantic archipelagos are evaluated. Castile’s functions as a source of raw materials is then explored as are its links with the ever-expanding inner Atlantic world. The fortunes of the remaining second tier of port settlements are then addressed. Their activities and functions were constricted by the political economies of their respective states over extended periods. Of them all, Oporto’s mercantile career was least affected by these obstacles. The development of its hinterland as a prosperous viticultural zone consolidated its career as an Atlantic port. Corunna, Bilbao and Santander had all successfully participated in inner Atlantic commerce during the sixteenth century, but all of them had to wait until the late eighteenth century, or even the nineteenth century to emerge as significant Atlantic port settlements. In conclusion, an attempt is made to categorise these port settlements as a distinctive urban class in their historiographic setting.

6

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Ports in literature To date, port cities have been the subject of limited serious enquiry both implicitly as groups of interacting cities or even as encyclopaedic case studies as the works of Broeze (1989), Gilchrist (1967); Knight and Liss (1991) and CEHOPU (1994) illustrate. The sheer volume of individual analysis conducted and published in various languages in Europe may be responsible for the fact that few regional studies have appeared, nor has anyone yet attempted a continental synthesis. There have been some brilliant case studies such as those of Chaunu for Seville (1955–60), García Baquero González (1988) for Cádiz, Roncayolo for Marseilles (1990), or Clarke’s pertinent study of La Rochelle (1981), as well as Devine and Jackson’s work on Glasgow (1995), Loose (1984) on Hamburg, and Suykens and Aesert’s (1986) study of Antwerp. The only attempt to derive a broader perspective from Europe has been the Clark and Wood edited thematic volume (1994) which focuses upon port cities in ‘The Transatlantic World in the Age of Expansion’. Its eclectic remit extends to a pungent cultural flavour addressing, for instance, slaves, white labour and American influences on Antwerp’s material culture. The contents page serves as a compelling but daunting desideratum of what remains to be completed. Konvitz (1993) has made an excellent and path-breaking study of the planning of early modern port cities with particular reference to France. By drawing on a rich variety of maps, etchings, plans, memoirs, paintings and state papers, this creative work demonstrates that state interventions in planning port settlement happened perhaps earlier than many would have supposed. Broeze has also made several useful contributions, not least in a trenchant review essay (1989). The sea (Steinberg, 2003; Lambert et al., 2006) and the Atlantic world (Gabaccia, 2004) have more recently engaged the attention of a wider community of scholars to judge by the appearance of editions of the Journal of Historical Geography (2006), Social and Cultural Geography (2005) and the foundation of the review Atlantic Studies (2004). English geographers have been productively active chiefly in addressing the ramifications of modern port transformation and also have imbued some of this work with a deep historical flavour (Bird, 1980; Lawton and Lee, 2002). The contextualisation of ports in seaport systems has also yielded valuable insights into change (Hoyle and Hilling, 1984). Work on Africa and modern seaport change been the focus of a more recent work (Hoyle and Pinder, 1992). To date, little serious research has been accomplished by Europeans on urban cultural transfers to the New World (Thomas, 2004). This is especially the case in relation to Spanish urban transmission (Calderón Quijano, 1984; Cámara Muñoz, 1998). The Portuguese, not unexpectedly, have been more active on this front. Research has been completed covering how Portuguese urbanism in India was influenced by Renaissance idealism (Rossa, 1997). An attempt has been conducted to identify the principal features of Portuguese-built colonial Atlantic towns of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries and their locational characteristics have been studied. Reverse cultural transfers via Portuguese port cities remain less well understood (Rodrigues, 2000). Anyone who has examined the hybrid civic architecture at Faro cannot fail to observe Indian influence. Some of the earliest port cities undoubtedly emerged fringing the Pacific (Tindall, 1982). Many settlements there have been subject to detailed and pioneering scrutiny (Murphey, 1979). Indeed, recent research has confirmed that the European contribution to their expansion has been generally overestimated and often exaggerated (Broeze, 1989). The European Discoveries encountered a series of complex port settlement systems in fine fettle in China, Moghul India, Persia, Thailand, the rivers of south-east Asia and the archipelagos and peninsulas occupied by the Malays (Basu, 1979). The presence of well-established trading networks focused on ports such as these are attested to in the movements and observations of Arab, Central Asian, Chinese, Maghrebi and Persian travellers as exemplified in the journeys of Ibn Battuta (Gibb, 1994). State involvement

Introduction

7

in building, or promotion, of port cities was often quite limited and de novo centres were very much the exception. In Asia, given the longstanding nature of coastal urban development, many settlements acted as imperial and/or colonial ports (Broeze et al., 1986). In the New World, many excellent studies are available in relation to the evolution of seaport cities but, as yet, no synthesis had been accomplished for any macro-region. As background research on the emergence of the Portuguese and Spanish seaborne empires, the works of Boxer (1969) and Parry (1966) are most seminal. More has yet to be written on European endeavours overseas (Chaunu, 1964). An early collection of essays has set a kind of benchmark (Gilchrist, 1967). A limited number of works have appeared dealing with European state relationships with the overseas colonies in which ports figure prominently (Mauro, 1960; McNeill, 1985; Pearson, 1990; Kagan, 1986). The publication of an edited series offers a statement on the recent state of the debate and it illustrates the diversity of issues now being addressed under the banner of port cities (Knight and Liss, 1991). The records of the authorities implicated in the administration of ports and trade is copious and sometimes overwhelming. Their survival has permitted the publication of some riveting research such as that of Chaunu (1955–60) of Mauro (1960) and Morineau (1985). Key ports were highly sensitive locales, many receiving enormous defensive investments, as at Cádiz, for instance (Calderón Quijano et al., 1978; Buisseret, 1998; Cámara Muñoz, 1998). Some monarchs were desperate to be able to view their ports. Painters and engravers such as Braun, Hogenberg and Van den Wjngaerde helped fill such voids during the reign of Philip II (Popham, 1936; Kagan, 1986). Indeed, the peninsular painting itinerary of the latter is significant in what it excluded and included: it covered two visits to northern Castile, one to Aragón, Cataluña-Valencia, Madrid and Andalusia (Kagan, 1986, p. 10). This monarch had an insatiable desire for place-informatics so he commissioned various statistical trawls (Martínez Taboada, 2000). He also persistently patronised the collection of urban informatics (Sanz Herminda, 2000). Later on, Carlos III of Spain ordered a series of models to be made of his major peninsular ports. In 1777, Alfonso Jiménez completed the only one for Cádiz. Others commissioned artists to represent their major ports and the output of Joseph Vernet for France represents a prodigious achievement (Boulaire, 2001). All of these portrayals of ports, domestic residences and public buildings illustrate their basic anatomies representing their ethos and constitute another series of unexplored texts. In Atlantic Iberia, these texts largely remain to be deconstructed. What approaches have been employed to engage with these settlement types? Individual case studies reveal, as one would expect, an eclectic range of approximations. Many are focused on a restricted range of themes guided by the disciplinary tropes in vogue. Collections of essays concerned with these ports manifest what, to some, might seem a lack of control over the approaches to the topic and the themes selected for scrutiny. To be fair, however, the scale and range of issues relating to the study of port cities is almost hopelessly extensive and many different disciplines consider them part of their remit. This makes the task of theorising about the nature of their urban forms as difficult as that of achieving any consensual approaches to their study. Several attempts have been made to classify ports by type in terms of their origins exemplified by Broeze et al. (1986), while others have tried to sort them out in terms of their range, scale and specialism(s) of their port functions (Jackson, 1996). Efforts have been made to allocate phases of growth to existing urban evolutionary typologies, although others have argued that recognisable stages in their growth can be fastened onto well-known eras of development as propounded by economic historians. Obviously, this task needs to be conducted within a broad perspective of urban definition (Jansen, 1996) The work of Vance is important here, as it attempts to link trade cycles with urban change with especial reference to Anglo-America (Vance, 1970, 1990). Briefly, this geographer asserts

8

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

that five stages in the process of change can be identified. To begin with, accelerating prosperity in Europe promotes the voyages of exploration. This phase is replaced by essentially east-to-west traffic in basic raw materials such as fish, furs, tobacco and timber. With the consolidation of permanent settlement in North America, more regular two-way traffic increases; however, most of the interactions remain animated by Europe’s increasingly voracious appetite. Transportation links remain pivoted on coastal hubs. The emergence of self-sustaining manufacturing characterises the fourth stage in which the legacies of earlier stages remain evident. The dominance of internal trade marks the consolidation of the last stage. Other models such as that of Rimmer (1977) clearly have been inspired by the works of Vance and of Brookfield (1975). In further examples, phases in the evolution of ships have been suggested as a means of understanding port city progression (Broeze, 1996). Transportation specialists, mainly geographers, have attempted to identify and model recurrent characteristics in the morphology of port settlements as in the work of Bird (1963) on the ANYPORT concept. It is also pertinent to briefly mention the contributions of some key transport specialists to the debate (Hoyle and Knowles, 1998). Another important model has been devised to conceptualise relationships between the evolution of transport systems and economic and political change and development in Africa (Taaffe et al.,1963). What all of these models share is an acknowledgement of the pivotal role of seaport settlements as animators of development in the search for the identification of recognisable phases of change (Verlaque, 1974). Considerable effort has also been expended in attempting to establish the relationships between urban growth and economic growth. This can involve an assessment of the connections between infrastructure provision and economic growth within specific hinterlands (Munnel, 1992), as well as dealing with issues relating to nodes and systems (McGee, 1971). Before the late nineteenth century, sea transport over the extensive period covered by this research was arduous, hazardous, laborious and extremely slow (McGrail, 1981). Despite all these restraints, we must acknowledge that it was the sea transport systems that emerged in the long period after the Discoveries that laid the basis for the kind of globalisation that we have inherited (Blaut, 1993). In Iberia, the monopoly was a decisive influence, while elsewhere in Europe merchant aspirations and opportunism were paramount up to the end of the eighteenth century; on the peninsula, the state deliberately promoted port concentration and disturbed the interplay of other forces at work. The task of establishing reliable statistical procedures to assess these forces for any period before the mid-nineteenth century is a daunting assignment, especially in the context of a monopoly. Values of goods landed always became hugely inflated when bullion was involved or with highvalue, low-bulk items such as spices. In their place, cruder criteria must be invoked such as natural (population) change, volumes of immigrants and the number of licensed foreign merchants or the value of their transactions. The attributes of port cities represent the outcomes of the operation of a range of long-term processes and policies. The nature of Portuguese and Spanish colonialism and imperialism is pertinent here, as was the military-naval edifice that sustained them and the trading systems that they engendered and supported. At individual port level, the consulados of the sixteenth century, the enlightenment figures of the eighteenth century and the port authorities of the nineteenth century within an actor–agency framework attempted to deliver improvement through the founding of control institutions. The state also exerted influence on urban design, but the scale of these efforts has been disputed (Braunfels, 1988). There was rarely convergence between merchant aspirations and the needs of the state as seen from the capital. Trade, with its merchant agents and delivery systems, from docks to ships, was intimately connected to technological improvements on land and at sea (Blussé and Gaastra, 1981; Emmer and Gaastra, 1996; Tracy, 1993). But when then did port towns become port cities? In the past, the response had to be culturally specific and it related to how urban types were defined and their relation to an expanding realm of characteristics

Introduction

9

and functions (Jansen, 1996). The geopolitical strategies of European states in times of hostilities sundered trading lines and brought crises to many port settlements, as did piracy and privateering in less hostile times. All cities have a multiple nature; in port cities, maritime trade is a fundamental ingredient (Angolini and Roche, 1995). Many workers were needed to expedite their commercial activities. Merchant networks too were pivotal ingredients of these places. The activity domains of family networks within and between port cities straddled state boundaries (Saturno, 1989). Merchants were not simply agents of ‘foreign’ trade as their family networks crossed Europe and beyond into the New World (Jiménez Cordinach, 1991). Many port settlements were deeply influenced by a numerically minute merchant elite often acting in concert (Emmer and Gaastra, 1996). At other times, merchants were deeply divided and these fractures were often riveted along ethnic lines as at Cádiz. People who were at the heart of these settlements and created a culture of seafaring often expressed themselves in music, poetry and song noted by many authors (for example, Hugill, 1967; Rudolf, 1980; Rediker, 1987). Multi-ethnic was a recurrent feature of port city society (Conlon, 1989). Many individuals built striking monuments to record their presence and achievements (Lewandowski, 1989). Others repatriated some of their wealth to their home ports for philanthropic purposes (Bilbao Acedos, 2003). Mercantilism, colonialism and capitalism all made a contribution through trading organisation to the process of globalisation (Hugill, 1993). War, resulting from the rivalry between European and Asian potentates, has often been cited as being responsible for major declines in trading activities. Yet in times of war, states depended on their merchants to make profits, which could be taxed. They also depended on them to procure and supply foodstuffs in times of shortages. In these circumstances, states turned a blind eye to conflict and allowed merchants to trade with ‘enemy’ merchants to acquire strategic items such as foodstuffs (Birmingham, 2004). In this regard, the origin of the word fund is pertinent. It derives from the Arabic funduq, discrete residential quarters used by foreign merchants in Levantine ports, somewhat similar to the caravanserai used for overland travel (Chaudhuri, 1992). In these circumstances, banking and exchange operations emerged. In Asia, too, the evolution of the principal of extraterritorial rights for merchants in specific locales evolved as a means of facilitating exchange and trade. The Portuguese Estado da Índia worked with feitorias [districts of existing settlements or small defended settlements occupied by Portuguese merchants and administrators]; later on, joint stock companies appeared and, later again, companies were founded by the Dutch, English, French and Spanish to stimulate trade, as in the example of the East India Company (Cottrell and Aldcroft, 1981). Port cities were notorious centres where an informal economy was always in full bloom. Bootlegging, smuggling, cheating, deception, fraud, falsification, swindling and trickery were rampant and many operated as covert centres for piracy and privateering (Rediker, 1987).

Theorising port cities Most of the research conducted on port settlements and port systems of the past has concentrated on contexts outside Europe. To date, there have been few state-wide studies of European port cities (for exceptions, see CEHOPU, 1994). What is clear, at this initial stage of work, is that several different types of port settlements may be recognised (Lee, 1998). ‘Colonial port cities’ has been suggested as a generic term to categorise many Asian settlements (Broeze, 1989). Here, too, there were different types of port. Ports such as Calcutta or Bombay served as gateway ports, as did those of Burma and Thailand. Others served as entrepôts such as Singapore, or as trans-shipment centres. Some served as bunkering ports and/or repair centres such as those on the Cape Verde. All of these

10

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

ports simultaneously discharged several functions; however, the emphasis differed in each one. In the second half of the nineteenth century, Colombo was the seventh largest port in the world, a position achieved by being at the top of the Singhalese network of centres devoted to servicing a pronounced export-orientated economy. Also, Colombo occupied a pivotal position on the Indian Ocean seaways (Dharmasena, 1989). The colonial port city for some was the epitome of core–periphery relationships (Rowlands et al., 1987). The mediation of these relationships was one of the primary roles of the pivotal members of society in these ports. In some, it was a case of shifting agricultural produce from a periphery to voracious industrial complexes or food deficient areas, such as was the case in Cork and Munster in Ireland (O’Flanagan, 1999). In others, finance, insurance and redistribution were central functions and some of these centres, such as Amsterdam, have been labelled cities of finance (Spooner, 1983; Diedericks and Reeder, 1996). Several centres, and we may cite Amsterdam again, notched-up added value by processing raw materials, for example refining sugar. At one end of the spectrum were politically autonomous port cities whose raison d’être was entirely based on trade. Their merchants enjoyed freedom to trade from the rulers of contiguous, often extensive, interior kingdoms. Italian city-states were not so different. The Hanseatic League settlements represent another category (Pietschmann, 2002). Their sustained achievements were in no small measure the result of the absence of oppressive state controls, but the main German ports came into their own quite late (Ellermeyer, 1986). The major Asian port centres of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries provide a case in point. Their trading activities were beneficial to contiguous empires and so they obtained encouragement. Aceh, Makassar, Calicut and Hormuz were specific examples. Few could boast of a hinterland which produced valuable products, or goods suitable for maritime trade. They were entrepôts. Malacca was typical; like many other ports, it was situated at a choke point along sea routes where trade of various types converged. Porcelain and silk came from China, spices from the Moluccas, cloth from India, bullion from Europe and pepper from nearby Sumatra (Pearson, 1991, p. 70). Centres of this kind were break points. Some of these Asian cities were quite sophisticated: their artisans also produced goods and their rulers encouraged the presence of foreign traders whom they treated benignly. Changan in China, during the heyday of the Silk Road, was an inland example. In other instances, such as at Cambay, royal interference was more evident, although even here merchants fared well (Pearson, 1991, p. 73). Trade was handled by small-scale actors known as peddlers and less often, but by no means infrequently, by organised merchant cliques (Curtin, 1984). It is worthwhile noting the synergies, which developed between the port cities of the Italian city-states and those of the Hanseatic League. The former procured, packed and distributed many luxuries from the Orient; the latter dealt in more basic materials. The Europeans imposed on Asia exclusionist trading practices in a context where heretofore outside merchants were the principal animators whose activities the indigenous territorial rulers did not wish to curb. After their arrival, the Europeans introduced discontinuities in the practice of circulation. In Europe, by contrast, governments actively promoted the interests of merchants because the state realised the advantages involved. Merchants could influence the state in Europe, whereas in Asia this was not the case. Some researchers have launched the not very satisfactory term ‘imperial port city’ to designate effectively a ‘stage’ in the evolution of some major Asian port cities. Others claim that they represent a particular generic type. These were port cities which belonged to large empires, but had achieved some degree of freedom of action. An example can be seen in prePortuguese conquest Diu. Another port type was in full flight in the latter half of the nineteenth century after the Indian Ocean was invaded by scores of large all-weather steamships. Their arrival on the scene required massive engineering activity and often the relocation of exiting ports. In this

Introduction

11

way, purpose-built or expanded ports were key features of these centres. They were the ultimate phase in the careers of ‘colonial ports’ (Broeze et al., 1989). Another version of the colonial port city is revealed in Keyder et al. (1993). These settlements were essentially commercial cities within agrarian empires such as those of the Chinese and the Ottomans. In these contexts, control and filtering of trade between city and elsewhere constituted their ‘imperial’ flavour. Once incorporated into western capitalist circuits, they were transformed into points on surfaces and networks representing hubs in core-periphery trade articulations. According to Keyder et al. (1993, p. 520) ‘to study colonialism is to study port cities’. In an Ottoman context, these types of port centres only emerged in the middle of the nineteenth century at a time when that empire was fast fading. Putting port cities at centre stage in this context is elementary, as the transportation of raw materials from the periphery to the core was a prime activity. In other contexts, periphery supplied periphery. The case of Cork’s exceptionally profitable provisions trade is instructive, as it provided food and labour for the Caribbean and New England (O’Flanagan, 1999). These movements were part of even wider trading circuits which involved plantations (Curtin, 1998), deportees and slaves (Postma, 1990; Thomas, 1997; O’Callaghan, 2000), sugar, tobacco and idealisms (Harland-Jacobs, 1999). The agents who instigated these movements were central (Hancock, 1995). It has been argued that the best way of understanding the role and the inherent dynamics of port cities is to analyse them through the prisms of class, dependency and modernisation (Keyder et al., 1993, p. 520). They emerged in conditions of existing sophisticated lifestyles, especially in Asia (Ross and Telkamp, 1985). It is questionable whether this type of city evolved in Ibero-America or in Africa outside centres dominated by Arabs or Indo-Persians. These cities were also large and dynamic and were not, as Braudel has asserted, ‘parasitic, soft and luxurious’ (1972, p. 4). In many south-east Asian areas during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, more than 10 per cent of the pre-industrial population was urbanised, which was more than in contemporary Europe (Basu, 1979). In fact, cities such as Malacca had already developed as entrepôts before the European arrival. These settlements became the lynchpins linking Europe with her Asian colonies (Jackel, 1989). In centres such as Shanghai or Calcutta, the best and the worst of urbanism was exemplified (Murphey, 1979). Their ports’ intensive trade catapulted them to become the largest urban concentrations in their respective states during the nineteenth century (Reid, 1989). The promotion of seaborne trade required finance, security, administration, transport, infrastructure, technology and a large resident labour force. A variant type of these port cities has been labelled ‘semi-colonial’, and Shanghai has been suggested as an exemplar (Eng, 1989). Another more complex type of maritime settlement has recently been adduced. Titled ‘mirror cities’, their look-alike features stem from the intensive exchange of people and merchandise within the same polity (Steinberg, 1999). Evidence of early trade-twinning practices was exemplified in the Mediterranean by such instances as Athens and Alexandria, or Rome and Carthage (Crooks, 1999). The degree to which comparable claims could be reasonably made about the relationship between Cádiz, Havana and Veracruz, Acapulco and Manila is work for another day. In Iberia, the deliberate selection of a particular port to exclusively trade with the colonies led to the emergence of two metropoles and to the creation of an ultimately unstable port hierarchy in Spain; ironically, the reverse happened in Portugal. It was under these circumstances that primate port cities developed in Atlantic Iberia. What sort of population thresholds distinguished these kinds of settlements? Those reported from Anglo, Ibero-America and the Caribbean varied from c.4,500 to 45,000. Price (1991, p. 263) recognises some three orders of magnitude in the last quarter of the eighteenth century and in the lead were colonial capitals with 30,000-plus residents (see Table I.1).

12

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Table I.1 Population: New World port settlements, 1780–1800 Place

Population

Philadelphia Havana Bahia Rio de Janeiro New York Buenos Aires Recife Boston Charleston Vera Cruz Cap Francais Cartagena: Port-au-Prince Basse-Terre Pointe-a-Pitre

42,444 40,737 39,209 38,707 33,131 c.30,000 18,207 18,038 16,359 c.18,000 15,000 15,000 6,200 4,549 4,425

Year 1790 1778 1780 1780 1790 1778 1776 1790 1790 c.1800 1789 1772 1789 1797 1797

Source: Price, 1991, p. 263

How and when did, or do, port towns become port cities? This issue is more fundamentally linked to the formulation of an acceptable definition of an urban type (Jansen, 1996). Over time and in different cultural and economic circumstances, port settlements are characterised by different types of attributes, some of which are captured, for a specific milieu, by the ‘ANYPORT’ model (Bird, 1963). Initially, port settlements act as ‘gateways’, with many residents discharging the roles of dispatchers (Kidawi 1989). In the next stage, the settlement’s many other functions become self-sustaining and several of these start to carve out new networks of linkages focused on the centre. By now, the settlement which essentially depends on a port generates wealth for its citizens and has, at this point, attained the status of a major port town or city. Another stage is evident when the port no longer discharges prime urban functions; it has been displaced by one or several new functions, which help to reshape its cultural, economic and social structure. For these reasons, any study of port cities, must trawl over many centuries, it must make connections, where relevant, with the political economies in vogue and it must, de riguer, be comparative. The ports which form the basis of our research were the key settlements from which Europe launched a commercial, missionary and military conquest of what was then regarded as the New World, and they were and are located on the Atlantic coast of Iberia. As a region, Atlantic Iberia’s coastal limits are easy to determine: they cover the area extending from Tarifa in the modern province of Cádiz to Fuentearrabia on the river Bidasoa in Guipuzcoa (O’Flanagan, 2001). In regional terms, Atlantic Iberia embraces western Andalusia, all of Portugal, Galicia, Asturias, Cantabria, the Basque Provinces of Spain and the Azores, Madeira and the Canary Islands. It does not include the colonial Atlantic world. Atlantic Iberia’s landward margins were not static and they corresponded to a large degree to the hinterlands that individual ports managed to engrave; nonetheless, these were mobile fixtures sometimes defined by Spanish territorial administration and fiscal policies (Muñoz Pérez, 1955). Further complications were added by the emergence of Madrid as state capital. Castile was

Introduction

13

anomalous. In the sixteenth century, it maintained strong Atlantic commercial ties with the ports of the Low Countries. Thereafter, these links became greatly diluted. This complex area is the old ‘inner Atlantic’ recognised by Braudel. Once upon a time, it was both a ‘Finisterre’ and an outer-periphery; the region was transformed by its engagement through Iberia’s role in the colonization and commercialization of the New World. The leading ports of Atlantic Iberia all display minute crusty cores some few of which were to serve as platforms for spectacular expansion and growth. Most, because of trade interdiction, did not witness significant growth until the late eighteenth century.

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Chapter 1

Iberian Urban Contexts Historians have largely corralled research focused on the evolution of Spain’s leading settlements in terms of individual case studies and national overviews. Architects too have made significant contributions to our understanding of urban evolution in Spain (Bonnet Correa, 1982). While geographers have also grappled with this theme, few have attempted to engage outside the confines of discrete regions or particular case studies. The diversity of Spain’s urban mosaic may have deterred some from the challenge. A more likely explanation is that urban historical geography in Spain has few practitioners, nor does it appear on undergraduate university curricula. Geographers have played more cutting-edge roles in attempting to elucidate urban change in Portugal (Ribeiro, 1967; Gaspar, 1966; Barata Salguiero, 1992). Recent overviews of peninsular urbanisation trends, with one major exception, have little, if nothing, to say about port inspired growth and such an ideal type as the port city has not been identified at all as a discrete category (CEHOPU, 1994). Indeed, some earlier authorities tended to contextualise urban evolution and especially urban origins within the context of dialectic of exogenous or autochthonous inspiration (García y Bellido, 1968). This kind of sterile debate has obscured the examination of more fundamental issues. There is now an excellent literature dealing with Iberian urban development. For Spain there are good overall surveys; Chueca Goitia (1965); García y Bellido (1968); Mateu (1982); Oyón in Rodgers (1993); Reher in Guàrdia (1994) and García Delgado in an edited volume (1992). For Portugal, there are Oliveira Marques et al. (1990), Gaspar (1966); for Lisbon, Moita and Saraiva e Silva (1983); Soeiro de Brito (1976); França (1978, 1980); Ferreira (1987); Barata Salgueiro and Garcia (1988); for Oporto: Mandroux-França (1984), Guichard (1992), Leal and Tavares (1987), and a general summary by Teixeira in Rodgers (1993). An interesting and valuable Atlas of Lisbon has been published which interrogates a series of manuscript maps in an effort to piece together its physical evolution (CEC, 1993). For both states there are very few comparative works on urban themes; Houston (1964), Gutkind (1967) and Guàrdia, (1994) and more obliquely, Ringrose (1996) stand out. There is no comprehensive dossier of individual urban biographies, although much has been written by scholars from every conceivable discipline from within and from outside the peninsula. One can cite, for example, Bennassar on Valladolid (1957), Reher on Cuenca (1990), Ringrose on Madrid (1983), Chaunu (1955–60) and Domínguez Ortiz on Seville (1946a); Fernández Pinedo for Bilbao (1984, 1988); Souto González on Vigo (1990); García Baquero González (1976, 1988) and Ruiz Nieto-Guerrero on Cádiz (1999); Parrilla (1996) on Corunna. San Sebastián has been analysed (Gordejuela, 1955–56) as has Avilés by Adaro Ruiz (1976), Xixón by Alvargonzález (1987), and finally, Ferrol by CEHOPU (1994) and Casado Soto (1996). Few foreigners have attempted to address Spain’s complex urban past. There are exceptions, notably Houston (1964), Gutkind (1967), Reher (1990) and Ringrose (1996). The innovative, but now dated, work of Gutkind introduced the principal elements of Iberian urbanisation to a general audience. The structuration of many earlier survey works indicates attempts to synchronise phases of urban growth with eras of ‘history’ (García y Bellido, 1968). The compilation edited by Mateu (1982) follows a similar recipe. Recently several valuable thematic studies have been published (Martínez Ruiz, 2000).

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Oyón notes in his useful historiography of recent urban history research that Spanish research developed apart from elsewhere and is characterised by its failure to address methods and theory. His incomplete bibliography stresses incorrectly that research has mainly been conducted in Catalonia, Levante, Andalucía and Madrid (in Rodgers, 1993). He has nothing to report on ports as animators of urban growth and he is also silent in relation to Spanish port cities. Paradoxically, despite Portugal’s national fixation on the heritage of the Discoveries, little has been written on the critical relationships between this small nation and the sea as expressed by, and mediated through, the great port cities of Lisbon and Oporto and a host of smaller settlements which also got in on the act (Teixeira in Rodgers, 1993). After all, these ports were the bases of her maritime vocation. The only major exception is Guichard’s work on Oporto (1993) strangely not treated explicitly as an Atlantic port. The substance of the excellent Atlas histórico de de ciudades europeas – Península Ibérica represents a novel departure in the analysis of the evolution and changing incidence of Iberian urbanisation (Guàrdia, 1994). It is one of the few studies where engagement with urban form is paramount and cartographic sources are central foundations for the construction of excellent and exciting maps which summarise discrete phases of urban evolution. Until recently, ports received scant attention in Iberian urban scholarship. The situation has been partly rectified by two publications. Alemany Llovera’s 1991 study – Los puertos españoles en el siglo XIX – deals essentially with many aspects of nineteenth-century concerns and it also contains useful chapters on the post-discovery maritime heritage of Spanish ports. In 1994, a major assessment of the role of ports in Spanish history – Puertos españoles en la historia – was published (CEHOPU, 1994). It is, at once, a daring and lavish publication, consisting of three principal sections, the first of which consists of six varyingly related monographic studies. A section addresses the evolution of shipping technology in its widest remit. A gazetteer of the principal ports follows providing information relating especially to cartographic sources available for a range of major ports on the peninsula. Each of the selected brief port studies is accompanied by a short summary of the principal stages of structural development. There are also the useful published proceedings of a 1995 conference held in Madrid (Guimerá and Romero, 1996). At this stage, it may be possible to draw some general inferences relating to the focus and contents of recent comparative studies of Iberian urbanisation. To date, the study of urban origins has been the paramount concern of scholarship. Many researchers have approached the topic by endeavouring to identify ‘phases’ of urban emergence. Studies by geographers on changing functions of towns over time are rare; there are some outstanding exceptions and some fine work has been produced by historians notably by Chaunu on Seville (1955–60), Bennassar on Valladolid (1957), Reher on Cuenca (1994), and García Baquero González (1976, 1988) on Cádiz. The comparative carto-geographic studies of urban centre evolution are in their infancy, with the noted exception of Guàrdia (1994) and the recent painstaking study of Cádiz (Ruiz Nieto Guerrero, 1999). There have been few attempts to assemble carto-bibliographies of individual port settlements, although there are some exceptions (Calderón Quijano, 1978). Comparative studies of urban functional change are relatively uncommon, as is work on urban iconography (Bonet Correa, 1978). Finally, studies of the archival material relating to the mid-eighteenth century Catastro del Marqués de Ensenada for some ports relating to the Respuestas Generales have also been published in a series known as Alcábala del Viento by Tabapress. These excellent publications contain crisp and valuable analytical overviews of the sources penned by scholars. Among the most vital so far as this work is concerned are the following studies of Cádiz, 1753 (García Baquero González, 1990), Puerto de Santa María, 1752 (Iglesias Rodríquez, 1992); Sanlúcar de Barrameda, 1752 (Campos Delgado and Camarero Bullón, 1995); Corunna, 1752 (Barreiro, 1990) and Santander, 1753 (Fortea Pérez, 1991).

Iberian Urban Contexts

17

Iberian urban evolution – the place of ports The reconquest achieved a considerable reorganisation of society and space on the peninsula (García de Cortázar et al., 1985). It was so thorough in some areas like the south that it is impossible to reconstruct the anatomy of many aspects of earlier cultural landscapes. The range of agents involved, the diversity of the areas which were conquered, then divided and settled, and the varied origins and skills of the settlers involved, contributed to the evolution of very discrete socio-spatial structures. There were crucial differences in the intensity, nature and type of urbanisation. In Andalusia, the pre-existing Islamic urban legacy was decisive (González Jiménez, 1988). For much of the protracted seven-century duration of the reconquest, urbanisation north of the Duero valley was precarious, unstable and volatile, that is before the emergence of Santiago and its Camino as a world centre of Christian devotion. In these northern areas, small episcopal centres were the most common types of settlement, such as Mondoñedo, León, Lugo, Oviedo, Ourense, Santiago, Braga, Guimarães, Viseu and Leiria. There were few ports, most of which appear to have had restricted hinterlands and forelands (Ferreira Prique, 1988). Pontevedra, Tuy, Viana do Castelo, Oporto and Aveiro functioned as ports of more than local significance (Armas Castro, 1992). Except for the area between Gibraltar and Lisbon and including especially the Algarve and the lower Guadalquivir valley, Atlantic Iberia was a Finisterre for Islamic civilisation. Even Lisbon and Santarém, then a river port on the Tagus, could claim more than a few thousand inhabitants when they were ‘reconquered’ (Carvalho, 1889; Oliviera Marquês, 1990). However, direct and indirect contribution of Islamic culture to urbanisation was immense (Gaspar, 1966). Culture in southern medieval Spain was neither uniformly Arab nor Islamic. It was, at least, an amalgam of Central Asian, Middle Eastern, Nile valley and Persian idealism. What is clear is that the hierarchy, which developed in the Guadalquivir valley in the sixteenth century, was extremely complex. Not only was it the most urbanised area on the peninsula, it was probably the most intensely urbanised sector of Western, if not all, of Europe at that time. This spectacular concentration of people and wealth was not simply because of the influx of goods and raw materials and slaves from the New World. The innate productiveness of the land – el Aljarrafe – was manifested in its high rural and urban population densities.

Degrees and ‘zones’ of urbanisation Reher (in Guàrdia, 1994), extrapolating the figures from the Census of 1591, claims that 63 per cent of the population in the Guadalquivir valley (which he does not define) lived in towns of 5,000 plus and that almost 40 per cent of that total were residents of 10,000 plus settlements. These estimates appear inflated for the following reasons. By not furnishing a working hypothesis of what was ‘urban’ at that time, confusion might arise, as significant proportions of the inhabitants of these centres, then as now, depended on the land for their livelihood. This region has been characterised for centuries by the presence of enormous agro-towns. Undoubtedly, New World interests dominated settlements such as Seville, Cádiz and Sanlúcar. His assertion that ‘most of the towns of this part (sic) of the Guadalquivir valley were more or less directly involved in the Indies trade through Seville remains unsustainable (Reher, 1994, p. 36). Indeed, it is questionable to regard all of these settlements as an interacting system exclusively animated by colonial activities. A second congery of towns was evident in Castile in the sixteenth century which, for reasons that are still not fully explained or understood, went into a precipitous decline. Some settlements, like Medina del Campo, never recovered (Domínguez Ortiz, 1992). Again, Castile must be precisely delineated. In the sixteenth century, it functionally comprised of mainly Old Castile with León,

18

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Santander and parts of the Señorio of Viscaya focused on the port of Bilbao and New Castile and most of modern Andalusia (Rahn Phillips, 1982). Toledo and Valladolid and later Madrid were the largest northern settlements. However, where was the urban system that connected it together? For how long was it active as a ‘system’? De Vries (1984, p. 82) insists that an urban system is made up of ‘cities’, yet in the sixteenth century northern Castile could boast of only three. The same author propounds that; ‘interdependence and differentiation’ integrates the interstices between the centre as a ‘region’ (De Vries, 1984, p. 82). It is unclear what was circulating around this system; wool was moving out and nothing in particular was moving in the opposite direction. In the seventeenth century, Andalusia experienced mixed urban fortunes; cities in its interior such as Córdoba, Granada and Jaén lost population while Seville and the towns of the lower Guadalquivir valley experienced a number of reverses. Regionally, these decreases were neither by any means as severe nor as protracted as those of Castile. Seville’s loss of monopoly to Cádiz after 1680 was decisive. Seville managed to retain its leading provincial position as the chief settlement of Andalusia to the present day in spite of being briefly challenged by Cádiz for this accolade. Post-medieval urban growth in Portugal is a tale of three cities, namely Lisbon, Oporto and Coimbra. Lisbon as guardian of the colonial trade monopoly vied with Seville as one of Western Europe’s largest and most dynamic settlements throughout most of the sixteenth century. A further arresting development was the great earthquake of 1755; but the efforts of the Marquês of Pombal quickly restored much of what had been lost. Briefly challenged by Oporto for pole position, Lisbon quickly brushed this threat aside. Over the period of this study, many dimensions of the Iberian productive economy were urban based. Cities and large towns were also major consumption centres. The peninsular economy was largely driven by the arrival of massive wealth from abroad. The metropoles as primary port cities during the period of the monopoly, and beyond it in the case of Lisbon, won their prominence from trading. They never emerged, during monopoly times as primary manufacturing centres by contrast to other Atlantic European port centres. Only Lisbon broke this rule, and that for only a short period as a result of the efforts of the Marquês of Pombal.

Recent urban change In the nineteenth century, it is evident that distinctions in terms of population incidence were intensifying on the peninsula. This difference was expressed in terms of much greater rates of population increase in most of the Atlantic coastal zones propelled by the mass adoption of maize and potatoes, and here, too, rural densities were significantly higher that in the interior, especially in the Castiles (García Delgado, 1992). Accelerated urban growth resulting from industrialisation was fuelled by immigration from rural areas from all over the peninsula which in turn was facilitated by improved connectivity and by the construction of better roads and especially railways (Gómez Mendoza, 1982; Medrazo, 1984).The abolition of the monopoly ultimately triggered a re-ordering of the peninsular port hierarchy. Another dimension of this transformation is manifested by the spectacular growth of Barcelona and a series of contiguous towns such as Badalona, Mataró, Manresa and Sabadell, most producing textiles initially based on water power. This complex soon became the leading conurbation on the peninsula. Madrid, with a population of c.300,000 in the mid-nineteenth century, remained the capital; it stood out as an isolated giant on the Meseta. Northern coastal Atlantic Iberia had to wait until the mid- or late nineteenth century to experience a sustained period of urban growth. Heretofore, ports such as Santander and Bilbao only registered very uneven change linked to the economic wellbeing of Castile. Bilbao was the only centre to emerge as a major industrial complex.

Chapter 2

Formation and Geography of the Atlantic and Transatlantic Economies There were several Atlantic economic systems over the period c.1500–1900, all of which were interdependent (http://www.fas.harvard.edu.~atlantic/atlanbib.html). The nature of each economic system changed over time, as did the relationships between each one of them (Chaudhuri, 1990). Each of the systems was animated by distinctive political economies of different European states (Brady, 1990). ‘The Atlantic economy was a vast complicated network of mines, haciendas, fisheries, plantations, trading post, shipyards and industries which governments vainly attempted to monopolise’(Thornton in Benjamin, 2000, p. 7). Mobile capital, merchant investment and trading strategies also had differential impacts over space and time both in Europe – especially at her ports – and overseas (Price, 1996). These systems facilitated cultural contacts and transfers of all kinds whose individual and collective outcomes were equally variable (Bailyn, 2005). Also, these Atlantic systems were not simply spatially confined to the Atlantic world (Abu-Lughod, 2001). They extended into the Pacific and subverted pre-existing trade routes, besides drawing parts of the Pacific and Atlantic worlds together (Subrahmanyam and Thomas, 1990; Hampe-Martínez, 1996). Recently a tripartite approach to the study of the Atlantic world has been proposed (Armitage and Braddick, 2002, pp.11–30). This geographically resonant suggestion would place this present work in the Cis-Atlantic realm, where unique places (and phenomena) such as port cities are studied. Transatlantic history is a comparative approach to the study of Atlantic regions whereas circum-Atlantic history focuses on the ocean as a totality of circulation, exchange and transmission. A taxonomic instrument of this kind exhibits, if nothing else, the complexities of engagement with the Atlantic world in the past and it does mark a leap forward from the works of Godechot (1947), Outwaite (1957) and Verlinden (1966). Some scholars have argued that particular conjunctures of ‘Atlantic history’ can be recognised (Pietschmann, 2002, pp.13-14). If these suggested ‘phases’ have any validity, surely they should be inscribed in the careers and fabrics of Atlantic port cities? One can generally agree with the preposition that there were effectively two overarching ‘systems’ in the sixteenth century, namely, the Portuguese-Spanish and the rest. Such a bipolar categorisation obscures great complexity on the ensuing centuries (Braudel, 1972; Wallerstein, 1974). At different times in the seventeenth century, the Dutch and the Portuguese systems had much in common. They both emerged out of small states; both were maintained by extended – often overextended – lines of communication. Most of their respective overseas territories were only ‘lost’ in the twentieth century. The critical differences between them revolve around the degree of enforced state control, their respective capacities for both business and technological innovation, especially in ships and shipping, the scale and permanence of overseas migration encouraged or sponsored by the respective states, and the mentalities of those involved in the planning and execution of the colonial process. The overall construction of European involvement with the New World shared some of these comparisons and contrasts (Benjamin et al., 2000). Europe supplied artisans, settlers, soldiers, sailors, priests and monks, administrators, businessmen, merchants and lots of money. Africa

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

provided slaves, gold and other metals and precious stones. The Americas, Anglo and Ibero, provided the spoils and all the opportunities of the frontier. Both areas, especially Ibero-America quickly produced enough food for settler needs and soon showed signs of becoming major exporters. Many of the Spanish realms were deeply hispanicised and coastal Brazil was Lusophied; there, at least, was a critical mass of immigration (Diffie and Winius, 1977; Mauro, 1956). Another telling contribution came from the relentless activities of missionaries who buttressed the rooting of Iberian civilisation abroad. Outside South Africa, the Dutch never achieved anything like this. The Iberian achievement was breathtaking and its legacy has been pervasive and persistent. The state, in both cases, expedited a critical role in the management of all aspects of trade (Matilla Quiza, 1982; García Ruipérez, 1986). Despite some recent attempts to argue that such state involvement arrested development – which may well be true in the context of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries – it was certainly not the case earlier. Indeed, without state organisational support, the whole edifice might have struck quicksands rather than finding firm foundations (Parry, 1966). In a sense, the Iberian Atlantic system remained ‘self-contained’ – though perhaps for too long. Braudel recognised the Atlantic initially to be acting as a maritime border of the Mediterranean, which subsequently in the sixteenth century assumed the role of fulcrum of the then western economic nexus (Braudel, 1972). He also asserted that there were several ‘Atlantics’ each of which was imbued with ‘national’ characteristics of the states who maintained some degree of de facto hegemony over vast swathes of ocean (Morris, 1992). This later proposition needs some surgical qualification. This authority recognised a Dutch, an English, French, Portuguese, Spanish and, finally, a relatively unknown, although hazardous inner Atlantic shared between the littoral states of the time. Nearly all of these Atlantics were multinational creations; the Iberian one was the most eclectic and diverse. It was the networks created by merchant community enterprise that facilitated the formation of these zones (Mauro, 1990). Italian, Jewish and German businessmen often paid for the outfitting of the boats, the procurement and sale of their cargoes. Many indigenous ‘nationalities’, as in the Iberian case, staffed the ships. The intelligence for sailing and chart making came from various sources, principally the Catalans and Italians, slaves from Africa acted as deckhands and many other crew members came from each and all of Iberia’s Atlantic regions. Innovation in technology was also a major consideration (Mokyr, 1990). A Mediterranean Atlantic has also been identified as a platform through which later expansion was supported (Butel, 1999).

The inner Atlantic This zone, stretching from the coasts of Norway and including Iceland, swept down along the Atlantic coasts of the North Sea and included England and Ireland and the Atlantic coasts of France and Iberia (O’Flanagan, 2001). It has acted as a channel of exchange, migration and trade since prehistoric times and was littered with a necklace of small ports, many of which had been reanimated or even founded by the Vikings (Evans, 1958; Scammell, 1981, 1995). Unlike the other zones, it was the least multinational. Apart from its fishing stocks, it was also the least contested zone, as allocation of maritime sovereignty of these inner seas to individual states remained a distant aspiration. The inner Atlantic supported three types of shipping movement: inter-regional trade of bulk goods, international trade between the states along the shores of the Atlantic and trade between areas of the Atlantic and the ports of the Mediterranean. During most of the sixteenth century, much of the North Atlantic trade – Mediterranean trade was diverted overland as a result of Ottoman pressure and goods – crossed the Alpine passes or went down the Rhone valley (Ascherson, 1996).

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Again, in the seventeenth century, the sea routes came back into favour. There was also profits from fishing and whaling (Jenkins, 1921). Commodities such as salt from the Sado estuary and Aveiro in Portugal always went northwards by sea, as did wine from the Gironde and Nantes to the ports of the Baltic, or to the North Sea or to England and Ireland. Corn, fish and timber went southwards to the Atlantic ports and to the Mediterranean. Many of these bulk trades employed ships that were enormous for their day several exceeding 1,000 tons. Few of them could tie up in the minute harbours of the North Atlantic (Unger, 1980). This implies that, in many instances, goods must have been trans-shipped from these boats and landed from smaller boats. These were the great carracks and naos (Cotterell and Aldcroft, 1981; Morris, 1992). Most of the goods moved around this inner Atlantic were carried in smaller boats, few of them breaching the hundred-ton threshold (Scammell, 1981). Antwerp and later Amsterdam, were the focal points for these trades in that the goods were often collected, warehoused and later bought by enterprising captains and redistributed by them. In this way, rudimentary financial services emerged to support these transactions (Diederiks and Reeder, 1996). Davies (1973) has claimed that, even before the end of the fifteenth century, the Hapsburg territories in what are now the Low Countries were one of the wealthiest, most economically active and most populous sectors of Atlantic Europe. This dynamism and prosperity was largely founded upon the success of textile production. Antwerp emerged in this context, having replaced Bruges, as a pivotal port, key production centre and major settlement. Bruges remained committed to servicing the vital needs of its extensive and productive hinterland and these interests stifled its attempts to move up a step to become an international port. Also, Antwerp flourished as an exchange breakpoint for English goods and those coming from Central Europe (Davies, 1973). Bruges was unlucky; it had managed to successfully act as an entrepôt for Portuguese pepper and sugar, but it was quickly supplanted by Antwerp because the Portuguese were able to acquire German metalwork there, which they sold on in Asia (Van Houtte, 1961). The Lisbon–Antwerp axis was based on the re-export of spices and it reached its apogee in the middle of the first half of the sixteenth century (Van der Wee, 1990). Baltic trading interests were also active at Antwerp and here they were able to connect with Genoese, Portuguese, Spanish and Venetian merchants and sell on the grain, wood, furs, flax, hemp, wax and fish. In this way, Antwerp became an entrepôt, gradually appropriating all the trappings of such an international role. At this time, Amsterdam remained a minor player, although the nascent Dutch were, through their enterprise, laying the foundations for this port to emerge as a major international centre (Boxer, 1977). French maritime enterprise was also channelled though such ports as Bordeaux, Nantes and Rouen. Breton ship-owners were not only active as traders, they also made important contributions to ship design and navigation (Touchard, 1967). Internal political fractures subverted France’s unquestionable strength as the most populous European state in the sixteenth century; it tallied just under 20 million residents. Put in perspective, the Dutch counted two million and at best, Castile summed to seven million. The English, too, were traders and the early career of Bristol is a testament to their success (Morgan, 1993; Sacks, 1991). Indeed, English merchants were resident in Seville and active in many sectors of Spain’s dominions until the mid-sixteenth century, working within the strictures established for foreign merchants by Seville’s Casa de Contratación (Steele, 1986). They were even more active in Portugal and over the years closer military and political cooperation deepened commercial ties that were manifested in the emergence of resident English communities at Lisbon and Oporto (Walford, 1940). An analysis of Luso–English trade relations in the eighteenth century reveals that inner Atlantic Europe had been transformed by engagement with the wider Atlantic world (Fisher, 1971). Between 1700 and 1760 Anglo- Portuguese trade was buoyant, mainly in

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

England’s favour and consisted of exports of textiles, grains and manufactured goods as well as cod from Newfoundland (Fisher, 1971). Sugar, wine, high-quality wood, tobacco and fruit went in the other direction; each of these commodities fluctuated in volume, seasonally, yearly and over the century (Hancock, 1995). Bullion was used by the Portuguese to make good the trade deficit. As Brazil prospered, many English imports were re-exported there and for most of the century, foreign trade with Brazil was only permitted via Portugal. Portuguese exports to colonial North America were minute, and cod came to Portugal either directly or, indirectly from there (Kurlansky, 1998). Increasingly, as the eighteenth century went on, grain from these colonies became an import in Portugal and most aspects of the trade were handled by English factors at Lisbon. The English also controlled the financial aspects of the wine export trade. In England, London totally dominated as the leading forwarding port in the early decades of the eighteenth century with 47 per cent of departures to Lisbon. In Portugal, Lisbon and Oporto were the key destinations and only a scattering docked at such ports as Figueira da Foz, Viana do Castelo, Aveiro and Faro (Fisher, 1971). The example of Luso–English trade demonstrates that the inner Atlantic world was characterised by a complex web of trading networks extending across the Atlantic and, in other instances, into the Pacific. The notion of a simple and terminal shift of economic vitality from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic during the sixteenth century is beguiling but not enlightening. Much of the of the gold and silver, as well as the general profits that derived from trade of all kinds ultimately filtered on to the Mediterranean by courtesy of the key role discharged by Italian bankers. As financiers to the Hapsburgs, they bankrolled their extravagant military adventures. More significantly, there were resident Italian merchants in most of the ports that have already been mentioned here. The Italians were active in Bruges and Antwerp since the mid-fifteenth century. Not only did they trade with their own country, they actively participated in joint ventures with local merchants, and because of their far-flung connections, which extended to the Black Sea and the Persian Gulf, they had ready markets for goods of all kinds. In the northern port cities of Atlantic Europe, the Genoese were the most critical group; however, there were Venetians, Florentines and Pisans as well. Their role in Seville, Lisbon and the Canaries was paramount as financiers (Fernández-Armesto, 1982). Here, we can definitely concur with Braudel when he writes that the Italians as representatives of the Mediterranean insured that it, ‘... was never out of the picture’ (Braudel, 1972, p. 208). Likewise, the formation of the Atlantic economy was not exclusively a European outcome (Mollat du Jourdan, 1993). Slaves and the transfer of crops, tenurial and land-use practices and interbreeding all left pervasive legacies on both sides of the Atlantic and well beyond it (Northrup, 1994). The economic and territorial management of the Atlantic fiefs of each of the great European powers has also bequeathed discrete inheritances. Spain managed its overseas affairs in a centralised style through its Casa de Contratación and other state organs at Seville. It did so through a complex and smooth organisation with an energy and vigour not witnessed in Europe since the days of the Roman Empire. The Portuguese achievement was similar; nonetheless, its agents and operatives, throughout its more geographically scattered empire, enjoyed a modicum of independence (Boxer, 1969). England, France and Holland were initially less statist in their approach to trade within their nascent empires (Lloyd, 1975).

The Portuguese Atlantic Chronologically, the Portuguese were the first to successfully carve out overseas emporia; their possessions, however, never became a fully fledged empire like that of Spain. It was neither a vast arena of conquest nor of settlement. Most critically for the Portuguese, the Atlantic was only part

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of their domain. In its heyday, it included both sides of the Atlantic to the Cape of Good Hope and of course the special prize, Brazil (Mathew, 1995). It extended into the Pacific, the edges of the Persian Gulf, the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic in a series of braided sea routes (Law, 1986). Outside Brazil, few of these areas witnessed intensive settlement and the Portuguese traders were content to derive their wealth from exchange (Jobson de Andrade Arruda, 1980). In this way, the rivers of West Africa supplied the Portuguese settlements at their entrances with gold and slaves (Birmingham, 2004). Spices came from further afield in Asia. A golden century extended roughly between 1480 and 1580. Portugal, until very recently, has always suffered from a shortage of people and consequently its imperial domain was erected on the backs of thousands of slaves from every conceivable continental background. A mentality common amongst her merchant and regal élites propelled the Portuguese to attain a global commercial presence. Employing a geomorphologic metaphor, they achieved such worldwide prominence by a process akin to river capture. They disrupted and often took control over finely tuned trade routes in the Indian Ocean principally because of their naval superiority – nobody could match their guns or the speed of their ships. They never attempted to act as spice growers and, cunningly, they simply captured existing sea trades (Mathew, 1995). In doing so, they also connected with long-established trade routes elsewhere such as the gold trade south of the Sahara. The scale of the disruption of the spice trade was reflected in the recording that, in the 1550s, spices of many kinds were no longer available in Central Asia. The Casa da Índia at Lisbon now regulated these trades and sent spices on to the royal factor at Antwerp who sold them on to the ports of the north. Later, this monopoly became exclusively focused on Lisbon, which by then had become a throbbing entrepôt and by then Amsterdam was ascendant over Antwerp (Israel, 1982). The Portuguese, in this sense, reflected the way in which the Italians before had founded trading colonies throughout the Black Sea (Ascherson, 1996) and to a lesser extent in the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf. Portugal never created any great empire, nor carved out any novel balance of power. Nevertheless, Portugal accelerated the diffusion of crops, land-use practices, Portuguese culture, language and Christianity besides fomenting tremendous racial mixing through every conceivable type of relationship. The fact that Portugal held a contract, known as an asiento, for supplying the labour-deficient Spanish colonies with slaves, no doubt facilitated this process (Mauro, 1956). It was this racial mixing, particularly in Brazil and Africa, that laid the foundations for all sorts of cultural fusions that make today’s Luso–African and Brazilian culture so distinctive. Portugal also founded, developed and expanded existing entrepôt port settlements throughout her widespread domains, typified by the Indo-Portuguese city in ports such as Macau and Nagasaki (Rossa, 1997). The crowning realisation was that, out of almost nothing, an Indo- Pacific and Atlantic emporium was carved into a network of trade routes that were funnelled to Lisbon. However, there were other more unsung dimensions to these maritime endeavours. Cod fishermen and whalers spread to the Great Banks of Terranova; the rich fishing grounds between the Canaries and Morocco were opened up, as were the waters of the Bight of Biafra and the seas of Angola and Namibia. In the end, it was the rewards that derived from trade that emblazoned the royal buildings at Tomar, in the gaudy and oppressive Manueline architecture, festooned with sea-shell motifs, and the icon tower of Belém. The scale of this wealth was indicated when an almost bankrupt crown sold all its offices in Goa in 1615: the cache realised equalled the total available to the English East India Company (Scammell, 1981). Portugal was a tiny country, even by European standards, and its major weakness was its minute population and the general failure of the state to institute training facilities to service and sustain all its diverse and far-flung activities. Neither did Portugal have the resources nor the manpower to expand its navy or army. Slaves could not lead armies, captain ships or administer trade. In this way, many ships, such as the great Indiamen, were often neither properly outfitted nor adequately

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

maintained and their crews often reported them to be falling asunder, making them easy prey for better-equipped privateers. Once in decline, and this was especially the case further into the seventeenth century, many expatriate Portuguese simply deserted, went native or worked for Portugal’s imperial enemies. In spite of these deficits, Portugal’s achievements were awe-inspiring and durable, evident not least in the global reach of the Portuguese language. Unlike Spain, Portugal never had a substantial Portuguese colonial population living abroad. There were several exceptions, including parts of Brazil, India at Goa and China at Macau. When challenged by the English and French and particularly by the Dutch, Portugal did not have the naval reserves to respond adequately. One result was that the Dutch, who were better led, better equipped, hungry for spoils and wealth, simply supplanted the Portuguese in the East. It was not a tale of unmitigated disaster. The Portuguese held their own in Brazil, ejected the Dutch from West Africa and clung on to Goa and Macau thus ensuring continuance, albeit in attenuated form, of a Portuguese seaborne empire (Boxer, 1969). Flows of bullion from Brazil to Portugal during the early eighteenth century were staggering, surpassing even in value and volume those that had earlier reached Spain (Barrett, 1990). This guaranteed and underwrote the expansion and subsequent prosperity of Portugal’s two major Atlantic port cities and sometimes threw a lifeline to some of the smaller ports of its Atlantic islands. In the Atlantic, outside the Caribbean, Dutch aggrandisement had not simply been contained, it had been rolled back; however, it was not until late in the seventeenth century that the economic benefits of peace became telling. Sugar from Brazil perhaps laid the foundation for the revival – its quality being recognised in Europe as of superior class to its rivals from the Caribbean (Jobson de Andrade Arruda, 1980). Sugar production was subject to many vicissitudes where boom alternated with bust and Dampier’s cameo of Bahía harbour in 1699 reflected only one side of the story: ‘It is a place of great trade …; there were thirty large ships in the harbour, two slave ships from Angola and many smaller ships’ (Dampier, quoted in Boxer, 1969, p. 155). Gold from Minas Gerais and later diamonds from some 200 miles inland from Rio de Janeiro underwrote economic recovery in the mid 1690s. Brazilian ports thrived again (Russell-Wood, 1991). The buoyancy provided by the flow of bullion back to Portugal revived slave movements from West Africa and ushered in a building boom in Portugal and the colonial proceeds were ‘squandered on costly ecclesiastical establishments, on patriarchate prodigalities and on the building of the gigantic monastery-palace at Mafra’, built between 1717 and 1735 (Boxer, 1969, p. 160). Some of this wealth became diverted to England to pay for imports, especially munitions, which the Methuen Treaty encouraged (Francis, 1966). Again, Lisbon aced as premier-division European city and entrepôt. English-made goods, paid for by gold, flooded into Lisbon and Oporto, and the gold and diamonds allowed many rural gentry to erect elaborate solares and quintas in the countryside. Some of this money too was invested in viticulture (Fisher, 1971). The rule of Pombal and the Lisbon earthquake were of unequal significance as far as transatlantic trade was concerned (Maxwell, 1984). The dire prognostications of Lisbon’s dilemma were not fulfilled and Pombal’s partial reorganisations of colonial Brazilian commerce through licensed trading companies were broadly successful (Amaral Lapa, 1968). Even before the early nineteenth century, Pombaline commercial controls had become top heavy and had fostered corruption, lethargy and the sparks that kindled an ultimately successful independence movement in Brazil (Falcon, 1982). In 1825, Brazil was free, Pombal had fallen long before and the English, since 1808, had enjoyed access to Brazilian ports. Portugal’s Atlantic assets were in shreds and nobody had foreseen the requirement to develop Angola or any other Portuguese Atlantic possessions or indeed even Brazil (Newitt, 1986).

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The Spanish Atlantic This was a realm mainly focused on the Atlantic; it was also connected to the Philippines via Central America and Peru. The nature of the Spanish ‘conquest’ and subsequent settlement of what is now Ibero-America, minus Brazil, are a record of massive immigration, sustained exploitation and the superimposition of an adminsitrative-territorial structure that helped lock Spain into her new empire. Most of this was achieved in less than twenty years (Thomas, 2004). The cumulative result was incredible intercultural penetration between the Spaniards and many of the sophisticated peoples that they encountered. Nevertheless, even the indigenous peoples were not numerous enough to sustain Spain’s insatiable demand for precious metals and the products of specialist agricultural regimes. Thousands were forced to work in the mines and hundreds of thousands were shipped across the Atlantic to fill the labour deficits that also arose as a result of the ravages of disease and poor working conditions. The rationale of the Spanish colonial economy was resource transfers to Europe (Colomar Albajar, 1995). First and foremost was bullion, as well as dyes, spices, exotic timber, luxuries such as cocoa, and slaves and thousands of migrants – and the list goes on. The evidence for this is emblazoned on ships’ manifests (Chaunu, 1955–60). Sailing to the Americas were thousands of slaves, liquor, textiles, grain, fish, weapons and implements of all kinds. This was the recipe for unparalleled achievements (Colomar Albajar, 1995). ‘Has any empire in historical times been able to accumulate such incredible quantities of bullion for so little cost, effort and outlay?’(Barrett, 1990). When Portugal and its overseas possessions were incorporated into this realm in 1580, Spain’s reach had become truly global. In an incredibly short time, a maritime economy had taken shape spanning heretofore-unimaginable distances in enormous ships. The flows and currents of movement because of the connection of the Americas with Europe was extraordinarily complex, as it affected all the other global maritime and many inland trade routes (Andrews, 1978). Chinese goods arrived in the Americas as well as Spain; Mexican silver reached China via the Philippines, Chinese porcelain appeared in northern Europe and Mexican gold reached Constantinople. Also within the Americas and the Caribbean, many inter-regional networks of exchange evolved. The umbilical cord of this empire was undoubtedly the Carrera de Indias – which is really not the equivalent of the meaning of its traditional rendering as the Spanish Main. It linked Seville, by convoy, especially with Cartegena de Indias in Colombia and Veracruz in Mexico and onwards from Puerto Belo to Manila. The role of the Chinese connection in all of this has been decidedly undervalued. Huge volumes of bullion went in their direction. As much as 350 tons of silver may have left Ibero-America annually in the early seventeenth century, destined for the East. Most of the ships involved in this long and arduous trade discharged and broke bulk at the critical entrepôt of Macassar, which became a melting pot of traders (Broeze, 1989). Here, a series of inter-regional trades evolved or simply intensified that connected south-east Asia with Japan and the Philippines and the Straits and all of these in turn with Peru and Panama and ultimately with Iberia. The European–Asian link came to be fondly known as the Manila trade. The shipments to Spain of bullion and treasure made the crucial difference (Morineau, 1985). True, in the last quarter of the eighteenth century, there were some severe setbacks to overseas trade, marked especially by periods of warfare. In this period, the annual average increase in trade often surpassed 400 per cent (Fisher, 1985). However, the inertia of the pre-free trade era is chronicled by the fact that over 80 per cent of all imports were landed at Cádiz and in some years this total surpassed 90 per cent (Stein and Stein, 2000). Corunna, far back, was in second place with an average of c.7 per cent of all landings, and the only other Spanish Atlantic port of significance was Santander. Other Atlantic ports that were occasionally in trading contact with the colonies included Xixón, Passages, Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Seville and very sporadically Vigo.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Silver and gold in order of volume and value constituted nearly 60 per cent of all imports, especially at Cádiz. Tropical commodities such as tobacco, sugar and cocoa together made up nearly 15 per cent of imports, and dyes and bark were also prominent; medicinal plants and wood totalled a single percentage figure. Pinpointing the origin of the goods coming into Spain can be problematic, as many ships called at several ports before embarking on the transatlantic voyage. The critical Ibero-American ports connected to Spain were Veracruz and Havana (Kuenthe, 1991; Segre et al., 1997), Cartegena de Las Indias (Grahn, 1991), Campeche, La Guiara, Callao, Montevideo, Buenos Aires and some other smaller ports. Havana was the lynchpin of the network and it acted as a fleet marshalling hub. Its excellent harbour had the space for hundreds of ships that were protected by awesome land-based fire-power. Such an imperial edifice could not endure forever. The Atlantic worlds constructed by Spain and Portugal were very different from each other. Portugal supported a maritime trade network with a global reach; few Portuguese settled overseas. Peninsular Spain was the leading cog in a vast and unwieldy European empire. Many of its citizens had settled in a most scattered manner throughout its colonial possessions in the Americas; its frontiers were extemely permeable (Bannon, 1970). The growing prominence of Spain’s European rivals and costly wars in Europe, the consequences of trade and harvest failures and plague on the peninsula conspired together to subvert the power of the state and loosen, in every way, the links within her empire. Initially founded on resource expoitation and trade, the cultural legacies – to cite several aspects – of the Spanish Atlantic empire are stunning: it is evident in vast cultural transfers ranging from insititutions to language and religion.

Other Atlantics: Dutch, English and French arenas The rise of the English and especially the Dutch seaborne empires were remarkable achievements given the obstacles and forces ranged against them and the fact that their respective populations and resource bases were fragile and tenuous (Mokyr, 1992). The opposite is true of France; it was Europe’s largest and most populous country. Our particular task here is to indicate how Dutch influences affected the careers of the port settlements of Atlantic Iberia. Initially, their role was that of facilitators; subsequently this altered to competitors and enemies. This turnaround led to a reduction in the variety and quantity of goods entering some Iberian ports following Dutch diversion of commerce to their own ports. To accomplish these aims, it is necessary to briefly consider the geographical consequences of the evolution of Dutch maritime power in the Atlantic (Schama, 1987). The Dutch Atlantic It may well have been that the Hanse created propitious conditions for entrepôts to flourish: the Dutch fine-tuned and perfected this category of port-city with Amsterdam as its masterpiece. The Dutch rise to global pre-eminence was slow, painstaking and largely realised by the dedication of its burghers, merchants and shippers. It was not achieved by force of arms but rather through commercial imperatives. The Dutch had better spies and their shipping rates were significantly cheaper, which helped to undermine the Hanse. Fishing also created enormous prosperity. By 1590, with at least 300 busses or substantial fishing boats, they became masters of the North Sea. After 1660, their fleet had expanded to almost 1,000 busses, which ranged from the White Sea to Iceland and gave employment to a half a million people. Their success was based on their sturdy ships and their role as shippers especially for the Spaniards even during periods of war. Their merchants, in

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partnership with expelled Portuguese Jews, many of whom congregated at Amsterdam, maintained intense commercial and familial relationships with their families throughout the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Many placed resident agents and factors throughout the important ports of Portugal and Spain. By 1585, conflict in the Spanish Netherlands led to the emasculation of Antwerp, heretofore Europe’s most successful port and its replacement by Amsterdam as the most dynamic entrepôt of the continent. It became a very successful entrepôt with a difference: added value activities were a notable feature of its function, amongst which were sugar refining and tobacco blending. By the early decades of the seventeenth century, the Dutch were challenging the Portuguese throughout the Atlantic and by 1640; they had become ascendant in West Africa, Angola and parts of Brazil, only to lose their conquests as quickly because of robust infantry opposition and internal divisions (Postma, 1990). Elsewhere in the wider Atlantic, their excellent ships harried the fleets of the Iberian powers and certainly reduced the flows of bullion, besides generally accelerating the decline of Portugal. From their Asian base at Batavia (Djakarta), after 1619, they gradually reduced the Portuguese trading surface in the Pacific especially through the instruments of their great trading companies such as the VOC, the East India Company, the West India Company and the United India Company, which only succumbed to Japanese reduction in 1940! In this way, the Dutch shattered the Portuguese achievements in South Asia and India, challenged the Spaniards in the Philippines and China, and reduced the flows of oriental commodities to Iberia’s great port cities. In several ways, the Dutch replicated the activities of the Portuguese. They simply took over and extended and intensified the networks, which their competitors and enemies had established. They ejected the Portuguese from their entrepôts at Mulucca in 1641, and in 1669, at Macassar. Superior maritime technology and commercial nous endowed the Dutch with a cutting edge in these and other fields. In turn, they failed to oust the Portuguese from either Brazil or the West African coast. Their empire, like that of the Portuguese, was frail. There were too few Dutch to emigrate to all her exotic possessions and, consequently without an external army, a navy alone could not retain such scattered possessions especially in competition with the growing influence of the English and the French. The so-called second major Atlantic system was in fact a congerie of systems, each in opposition to each other, and together was in opposition to the Portuguese and the Spanish (Hampe-Martínez, 1996). Outside the Caribbean, in the Atlantic, the Iberians resisted and ultimately repelled their northern competitors apart from such pockets as Cayenne and what used to be called Surinam. In the end, the Spanish lost control of most of the Caribbean, which became home to a plantation economy, underwritten by international investment, indentured labour and slaves, and which depended exclusively on outside, mainly European, markets for the sale of its products, such as sugar (Andrews et al., 1978). The plantation was, in this way, a different institution from the hacienda. The Dutch also assumed a pivotal role as slavers, inside and outside the Caribbean and for all the different nations involved. It has been argued then that the Dutch mentality and graft created the sinews of this second Atlantic economy based mainly on sugar islands and some other tropical crops. Nevertheless, it was ephemeral only to be overtaken by the economies of scale achieved in the sugar economy of Brazil. The Dutch also connected the African Atlantic with the Pacific through the slave trade. Some 7,000 slaves entered the Pacific system each year; these slaves acted mainly as dockers and domestics rather than labourers on plantations (Mauro, 1956; Emmer, 1996). Amsterdam also acted as the principal venue for the assembly and sale of goods for the African barter trade (Suykens and Asaert, 1986). In so far as the second Atlantic system was a reality; the Dutch were the financiers, the carriers, the entrepreneurs (Boxer, 1977). They gleaned little from their investments in land and rarely acted as primary producers in the Caribbean.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

The English Atlantic The spatial architecture of the Atlantic domains of England and France differ in several important respects from those that we have already considered (Armitage and Braddick, 2002). For Portugal and Spain, the monopoly ports of Lisbon and Seville centralised the sea passages. Amsterdam towered over all its national competitors. No such trade specific limitations were placed on English or French ports (Seymour, 2004). They could trade with outré mere and consequently their maritime domains never acquired any real solidity. It is true that London emerged early as a dominant node in England (Quinn and Ryan, 1983). It never completely smothered its competitors. Profits and expertise in seafaring from fishing, as in Holland, helped to lay a solid foundation for English overseas enterprise (Rabb, 1967). Nevertheless, until the late sixteenth century, England’s rivals disparagingly regarded that country as a nest of seaborne thieves (Games, 1999). Most English maritime enterprise lacked the meticulous planning of its major adversaries; there were no grand objectives and little centralised control (Steele, 1986). While the East India Company traded pepper particularly successfully around India, it never rose to the same prominence or reaped similar profits to her Dutch rivals. In the Caribbean, the English were more successful in disrupting Spanish maritime activities; nevertheless, the islands had no major mineral resources. They did produce sugar (Curtin, 1998) and sugar needed lots of workers (O’Callaghan, 2000). In the Pacific, the English certainly helped to erode Portuguese hegemony, although they never managed to build a maritime infrastructure that could vie with their Dutch competitors. (Harding, 2004). As far as the Iberian Peninsula and her Atlantic ports were concerned, English influence was imperceptible except for the occasional blow such as the sack of Corunna or Cádiz, which wounded pride rather than commerce. In the late eighteenth century when the monopoly was finally abolished the opening of ports to trade with England had beneficial consequences. Nevertheless, it was not a case of continuous and uninterrupted growth; in the eighteenth century, there were both downturns and upturns for all of the goods sent out of that state. It is true that the Navigation Acts corralled the benefits of overseas commerce for a range of English commercial interests and they indicate statist involvement in managing and protecting trade. The character of English trade changed dramatically over the centuries (Steele, 1986). At first, it was almost exclusively confined to textiles; then its range broadened considerably and the export of manufactured goods to the colonies intensified (Morgan, 1993). From the last quarter of the eighteenth century, the industrial revolution provided mass-produced goods for anywhere on the globe capable of paying for them. The cloth trade with Iberia had been one of England’s most durable and reliable currents of commerce. These trades diminished during the eighteenth century as tariffs were placed on the import of such goods as a device to protect peninsular production (Shillington and Chapman, 1907). English investment in Portugal and in the Oporto region, in particular, during the eighteenth century unleashed a period of explosive change for that port city (Delaforce, 1983). By the end of the eighteenth century, merchants in London devised a limited monopoly with the agents of some West Indies plantations that consolidated London’s pole position as a port and reined in the expansion of other ports such as Glasgow and Liverpool. Indeed, London’s weight was further magnified as it became a centre of credit and finance (Butel, 1999, p. 112). The French Atlantic As with the English, the French established their primary foothold in the North American continent where the English became their principal competitors (Butel, 1999). Louisiana to the south supplied

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profits until mid-century. Cayenne was the only meagre survivor of French activities in the tropical Atlantic, as they failed, like the Dutch, to break Portuguese dominion in Brazil. In France, during the sixteenth century, no coherent merchant community evolved on a national scale. Region and religion carved deep chasms between the ports. France’s sixteenth century Newfoundland fishing fleet became a vital commercial asset for later commercial expansion. Unlike the Dutch, there was little mercantile unity of purpose. Later on, it was a different story as in the eighteenth century significant French merchant communities were in place in many of Atlantic Iberia’s major ports, such as Cádiz (Ozanam, 1968). In the eighteenth century, during Bourbon times, there was much trade between the Atlantic ports of France, especially Spain and most of the Spanish colonies (Banks, 2002). The English and French were also major players in the Caribbean and the cash crops produced on their respective islands found a ready market in Europe (Andrews et al., 1978). However, the English became increasingly preoccupied with their major colony, America. French activities soon came to dominate the French half of Santo Domingo (Perotin-Dumon, 1991). It spawned trading movements and prosperity in many French port hinterlands such as those of Bordeaux (Butel, 1999). Seven hundred ships with a gross tonnage of 200,000 tons linked France, in 1788, with all her colonies. Tropical cash crops of all kinds were carried into France’s Atlantic ports and slaves and huge quantities of food, including grain and Irish salted beef and fish, were re-exported from Bordeaux (Geggus, 1991). The Atlantic boom facilitated the development of social economies in many French ports and even in deepest France. Flour and wine from Aquitane, cloths from Sedan and Languedoc, lace from Puy and Valenciennes, silk stockings and gloves from Cervennes and Dauphine; all these were absorbed by colonial trade (Butel, 1999, p. 171). Enormous volumes of textiles and implements and munitions went in the same direction. This nexus was tied into the Iberian system, especially through Cuban sugar and slaves. Spanish American ports were opened to free trade in 1788 and acted as a major fillip to French Atlantic trade. The loss of her American foothold in Louisiana dampened trade volumes and hastened a crises at La Rochelle. However the long-term loser in the next century was Bordeaux (Huetz de Lemps, 1975).

The management of empires Spain From the early days of the Discoveries until the close of the nineteenth century in the case of Spain and the mid 1970s for Portugal, many different strategies, instruments and institutions were employed to administer a vast and disparate realm. How did the state then address the problems of management of a constantly changing global context where initially, at least, it had to improvise and devise novel structures for fiscal and spatial control of its commercial and political hegemonies? Some degree of synchronism had to be achieved in the management of the colonies, the fragmented European territories and a melange of different regions on the peninsula, including its archipelagos. Clearly, the state did not perceive its role in this regard as exclusively spatial. The vitality of the empire, indeed, its very existence and continuity, was underwritten by its capacity to hold on to its colonies and exploit them for its own benefit (Thomas, 2004). It never had the wherewithal to deliver this objective. To achieve its goals it had to subcontract. Genoese financiers, Portuguese slavers, German and Italian soldiers, Venetian ships and German mining experts were part of the vast constituency of collaborators drafted into the colonial enterprise. There are also instances of failure; for instance, it was never possible to attract peninsular colonists to settle in large numbers in the Philippines. A cleric writing in the 1630s may have articulated an imperial perspective when

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

he wrote: ‘Potosi [the mines] lives in order to satisfy the imposing aspirations of Spain: it serves to chastise the turk, humble the moor, make Flanders tremble and terrify England’ (Kamen, 2003, p. 286). Good communications were thus critical to sustain a peripatetic empire which, in turn, depended upon maritime and terrestrial transport. Herein lies a paradox: it can be argued that on the peninsula overland movement remained severely inadequate until well into the twentieth century (Madrazo, 1984). By comparison, sea transport was nearly always more fluid whether we are dealing with inter-port movements around the peninsula or those between Iberia and her colonies (Chaunu, 1955–60). Yet on its outer periphery, the Manila Galleon was only able to make one annual run and it was never safe from attack. Our task here is to reach an understanding of how measures of spatial control were formulated and enacted to foster and protect commerce, in so far as they may help our understanding of the general evolution and development of the port cities on the peninsula in terms of their maritime and terrestrial manifestations and their inter-relationships and connectivities. Over 400 years, we should not be surprised to observe that there were important shifts in emphasis in the states’ political economy policies, which were initially more prescriptive and later increasingly more reactive to circumstances (Mounier, 1919). The wealth of the New World was seen earlier as a quick fix to pay for imperial military activities in Europe. As a means to sustain this flow of wealth, it was deemed appropriate to support at least self-sufficiency in food production and in some manufacturing in the colonies. Before the end of the sixteenth century, the pendulum had swung the other way and a policy of enforced dependence on the imperial heartland was implemented (Walker, 1979, p. 22). Strange as it may seem, this policy was designed to create synergies: it would serve, so it was believed, to intensify mining abroad and augment agricultural production on the peninsula and benefit producers, transporters, merchants and shippers. Into this scenario came bullion to Spain and out went foodstuffs, merchandise and manufactures. As time went on, Spanish commodities were increasingly challenged by those goods produced by her principal European rivals or even by merchandise originating further afield and carried by her competitors (Martín Acena and Prados de la Escosura, 1985). Most aspects of these policies and transactions were monitored by the Consejo de Indias – Council of the Indies – or delegated by the Consejo de Indias to other institutions dependent upon it such as La Casa de Contratación at Seville (see, pp. 45–9) and so it continued up to 1717 when this organisation was transferred to Cádiz (García Baquero González, 1988). The Consejo de Indias ensured that the monopoly policy, which endowed Seville with exclusive New World trading privileges, was sustained (see, pp. 39–42). It was founded in c.1522 and it incorporated a less influential Junta de Indias (Medina Encina, 1981). The purpose of these institutions was to ensure state control of all transactions and the infrastructures facilitating them. Consulados de Comercio were also founded on both sides of the Atlantic. While these were theoretically free associations of merchants, in practice, especially in the New World, the state through its viceroys acted as gatekeepers. This edifice of control concealed the fact that that since the early sixteenth century, foreigners, foreign capital and a globalising market controlled many aspects of the Spanish economy (Ruiz Martín, 1970). Nevertheless, the distances involved and the practicalities of enforcing such measures over sustained periods meant that some of these regulations became progressively porous, especially in the seventeenth century. The results were stark. Towards the end of that century, only 5 per cent of commodities transported to the New World from Spain originated there and it seems that even a small fraction of this total was actually produced in Spain (Walker, 1979, p. 35; Morineau, 1985, p. 267). If this ran against the best intentions of the Spanish treasury, it was not as bleak as all that: the merchants of Cádiz made enormous fortunes in the trans-shipment of goods as late as the 1820s. These goods moved as a kind of official contraband; it was a practice that had to be tolerated. Spain

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was incapable of producing the variety and volume of goods required abroad; neither was she able to do it on time, nor with sufficient alacrity, quality control and regularity. A knock-on was obvious; indigenous production had to fill the voids and involve a development that ran in the face of the states’ policies. Goods had to be sourced from elsewhere in Europe. Matters improved in relation to the nature and volume of Hispanic-American trade from the 1760s onwards (Fisher, 1985). Increasingly, trade policy was liberalised. Not unlike the Spanish land reforms of the twentieth century, this policy of change began in 1765 and over the following years, 12 ports were permitted to trade directly with the Indies. It only culminated as late as 1791, when one of the last major interdicted ports was freed from the shackles of the monopoly. The change of attitude by the crown at first sight might appear as capitulation to merchant interests. Practice reveals that the crown was then more confident in relation to its capacity to achieve fiscal advantage and simultaneously boost trade, as well as regional and urban growth based upon the production and manufacture of goods, their overland transport and finally their shipment from the peninsula to New World markets. Some authorities claim that, despite the statistically recorded increase in trade over this period, the peninsular economy only drew mediocre advantage and, because of this, the loss of empire in the early 1800s was not a seismic economic event in that the Spanish economy adjusted to it without significant dislocation or decline (Ringrose, 1996, p. 118). It is not easy to accept such an extreme view; likewise, the drastic interpretation of Fontana of ‘collapse’, does not coincide with the facts (Fontana, 1970). What is clear is that only a minority of Spanish merchants maintained their overseas trading networks intact after colonial independence and, in a few instances, they were even able expand and intensify them (Jiménez Codinach, 1991). Shipping, banking, insurance and warehousing were especially hurt and the re-exportation of goods fell in a moderate and sustained manner in the early years of the nineteenth century (Prados de la Escosura, 1988). Loss of empire was thus a severe body blow to the Spanish economy; it was not a knockout. Up to the end of the nineteenth century, Puerto Rico and Cuba still tallied a little more than one-tenth of Spain’s overseas trade and slightly more than this figure represented the totality of Spain’s trade with her former American colonies. By then, however, peninsular producers were more in trawl to these markets as bullion was out of the equation. Portugal Portugal was involved in various north African forays from an early stage and its captains moved down the coast of west Africa establishing its forts and feitorias very much as the Genoese and Venetians had already done in the Levant and Black Sea (Mauro, 1983). Because Portugal was a small, thinly populated and relatively poor country with a strong centralising monarchy, there was from an early date a very robust connection between state apparatus and trade. The critical state regulatory instrument was the Casa da Índia. It managed customs, sold goods on behalf of the monarchy, stored goods before they were re-exported and kept records of all shipping movements and attempted to ensure that ships in Asia exclusively used Portuguese ports. Its chief agents were amongst the most important in the realm. Pepper initially was the kernel of the Indies trade. It was sold for specie at the feitorias and in Europe; specie again was exchanged for pepper. Medicinal drugs were also procured and sold, although they never acquired the same general appeal as pepper. Cloves, mace and nutmeg came from further afield. Although more valuable by weight, because it was sourced more distantly and supplies were less certain, pepper remained the kingpin of the Indies trade. Further on again to the East, where the Casa da Índia’s writ evaporated, particular merchants obtained patents to trade with such areas as Burma, China, Japan and the Moluccas. Stiff competition forced the Portuguese out of this area before the end of the sixteenth century.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Portugal’s monopoly was more ambivalent. Italian merchants were already present at Lisbon before that city emerged as a premier Atlantic port city. The arrival of the German agencies, for instance, of the Fuggers and the Welsers, from 1503 onwards was a momentous signal. It reflected the opening of new trade routes and the closure of others. The Portuguese could impose a monopoly of sorts on the procurement and shipping of goods to Portugal. It had to depend on others to sell them and provide banking services elsewhere in Europe. Merchant competition was fierce and, in 1508, a cartel of merchants from Antwerp reached an accord with the Portuguese monarch ‘to monopolise the monopoly’ (Diffie and Winius, 1977, p. 411). The results, for a period, were adequate for both parties. Eventually the crown defaulted on several occasions on its payments to the cartel and eventually cancelled them. The end of this syndicate transpired when the older and more durable trade routes were making a comeback, principally as a consequence of Ottoman’s realisation of the significance of trading with enemies, in this case the Venetians. For these reasons, Venice made a comeback as a spice entrepôt to such an extent that it challenged Lisbon’s 50-odd year supremacy. Venice’s re-emergence was robustly confirmed by the Fuggers’ abandonment of Lisbon in 1558. This also betokened the fact that, in 1570, buyers were coaxed back to Lisbon and invited to procure, distribute and transport pepper. In this way, the monopoly was shattered. Nevertheless, some critical elements remained intact, namely spice ships could only trade at Lisbon to facilitate the orderly extraction of levies and taxes. A short time later, in 1575, the monopoly was reinstated. This time it had only one beneficiary. The Philippine annexation of Portugal by Spain in 1580 ended a brief era of both innovation and profound instability in trading policy. Given Portugal’s low population and minute merchant class, many other foreign agents, merchants, sailors and ships simply had to be tolerated. Even actual and potential ‘discoveries’ had to be contracted out, and likewise the settlement and development of some new territories, for instance, the Azores, was leased out to people who were regarded as reliable developers and the same happened in Brazil (Marinho dos Santos, 1987). In effect, these later departures were tacit recognition by the state that it could not enforce a rigid economic policy everywhere. Effectively, Portuguese India c.1550, was essentially a collection of territories tied with Africa and Asia and linked together by a braided network of routes converging on a series of nodal ports or smaller feitorias strung out across a vast sea-surface. The Spanish empire was more land defined (Subrahmanyam and Thomas, 1990). These feitorias had emerged as effective overseas Portuguese merchant communities managed by a feitor who was effectively the monarch’s agent and tax collector. Initially, a feitoria had evolved in Bruges; later, it was transferred to Antwerp. This template of royal power and trade supervision became the model invoked to diffuse and sustain Portuguese commercial penetration around the coast of Africa, in the Pacific and Indian Oceans and beyond. The crown acted as trading corporation and monopolist, in as much as it set many prices and determined who could trade (Diffie and Winius, 1977). In the early part of the sixteenth century, feitorias were set up at such well-known places as Goa, Cochin, Malacca and Hormuz (Rossa, 1997). In India, feitorias were managed by a sole state agent (Newitt, 1986). Under the hegemony of Phillip II after 1580, various schemes were fostered but never carefully implemented to carve a land-based Portuguese condominium. Post 1640, the Portuguese had to rebuild a tattered domain in a much more hostile global and European context. Relations with Spain were tense for a further two decades. The Dutch had a strong presence in Brazil and after great efforts, they were ousted. The economic vitality of many overseas possessions was low. An example reflecting these difficulties is the fact that, in 1690, Brazilian sugar production was worth a mere two million pounds. Sound domestic and mercantile management at home, largely inspired by Pombal, laid solid foundations for later growth (Hanson, 1981).

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A manifestation of fundamental change was the issuing of an asiento to allow a Portuguese company to supply slaves to Spanish America, a privilege revoked after the 1640 revolt; hitherto Portugal had enjoyed a virtual monopoly. Then gold from Brazil helped to save the day for Portugal, production reaching staggering heights by the mid-eighteenth century and tapering downwards thereafter. Even if a vast amount of the gold never reached Lisbon because of contraband trading and despite the advantages gained by England through the Methuen Treaty (1703), the impact of the entry of such flows of bullion to Portugal were immense (Jobson de Andrade Arruda, 1980). Under the astute direction of Pombal from the 1760s onwards, the shape of Portugal’s political economy once more took on a more coherent and integrated appearance (Francis, 1966). His goal was to consolidate the imperial economy by encouraging exchanges within it. These goals were to be achieved by means of the foundation of manufacturing, the intensification of agriculture and the establishment of a series of companies dedicated to the exploitation of natural resources and trading (Falcon, 1982). All of these measures were good news for the ports and the shippers (Maxwell, 1984). Some companies acted as pioneers in an effort to amplify the trading of specific items from certain regions; for instance the Companhia do Comércio Oriental and the Companhia do Comércio do Mozambique. From the late seventeenth century, textiles became one of Portugal’s main imports from the north and, for well-known reasons, England remained Portugal’s most important northern trading partner. Portugal as a mercantile power sought to develop the raw materials of its overseas possessions and to send to these areas domestic manufactured goods and technical skills. That was the ideal. Geopolitically, Portugal was, by the mid-seventeenth century and beyond, not on the colonial front line. Seriously debilitated by the Spanish occupation and its loss to the Dutch of most of its Asian interests, it needed a more powerful partner to depend on. England assumed this role which was, so to speak, sanctified by the Methuen treaty in 1703. This was perhaps the first European example of a state, by choice, assuming the status of a dependent power. This reliance was especially marked in the first half of the eighteenth century (Hanson, 1981, p. 200). Re-exports, particularly of dried cod from Anglo-America and especially Newfoundland, were also a feature of this trade as was the import of grain mainly from England. The first half of the eighteenth century was an era of increasing English imports, which reached a peak in 1760. In the post 1760 period, English exports to Portugal fell, while the reverse trade strengthened again after 1780. Colonial independence and the rupture of trade For the nineteenth century, Ringrose asserts that Fontana’s (1970) thesis of collapse and transformation of the Spanish economy is too severe a judgement. A measure of the loss of colonial trade for the Spanish economy has shifted to one promulgated by scholars such as Prados de la Escosura (1988) and others. They claim that the forfeiture of colonial trade only impacted damagingly on a very restricted range of sectors of the Spanish economy. Changed external political allegiances and internal political transformations, during and in the aftermath of the Napoleonic era, allowed Spanish goods to gain firm footholds in many European markets. Loss of privilege in the colonies was compensated by goods and market substitution. In the first half of the nineteenth century and beyond, many parts of Atlantic Spain largely became suppliers of raw materials for those parts of Europe which were industrialising (see pp. 270–81). Import entry volume and range also grew slowly. It was often related to the exploitation and transport of these raw materials, as well as, the entry of luxuries and manufactured items (Frax Rosales, 1981). During the nineteenth century, a series of trading cycles are evident, one of which marks the loss in 1898 of the remaining colonies (Prados de la Escosura, 1988, p. 184). These improvements manifested themselves in overland transport, the advent of the railways, especially

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

in the last quarter of the century, and the intensification of mining opening-up new markets, inside and outside, the state.

Ships and ports of Atlantic Iberia Fortunately, there has been a great revival of interest in many aspects of Iberia’s maritime heritage testified to by the publication of some excellent research ( Alemany, 1992; Casado Soto, 1988–98; CEHOPU, 1994). Two excellent journals namely, Anuario del Instituto de Estudios Marítmos ‘Juan de la Cosa’ at Santander and ITSAS Memoria from San Sebastián carry much original work. Estimating the stock of vessels at, or in use at, any one port even as late as early-nineteenthcentury Atlantic Iberia is fraught with problems (Frax Rosales, 1981). Archivists, scribes and administrators employed similar names for different generic vessel types interchangeably, often making it impossible to generate accurate tallies. Naos were the backbone of the Spanish north Atlantic marine and they were often equated with navíos, but they were only half the size of the former class. Likewise, naos were confused with galeones. Larger still, caracas, the prime ships of the Mediterranean, were often double the size of naos. The portfolio of boats active in the early sixteenth century along the coast of Guipuzcoa included naos, galeones, carabelas, navios, pinazas and zabras. Naos and carabelas were the most common and the average tonnage of the former was 243 tons while the latter’s average was 85 (Casado Soto, 1988–98). Effectively, these boats were fishing boats, or merchantmen, dedicated to warfare, adapted for privateering which may also have discharged various combinations of these functions. Naos were usually flagships for long-distance trade and most of those in service during this century had been constructed and outfitted on the north coast as revealed by naval muster records and fiscal receipts. Galeones, which were few in number, mainly traded with Flanders and France. The carabelas engaged in Spanish coastal trade and were gradually replaced by galeones in the latter part of the century. The remaining boat types were small and, while primarily dedicated to fishing, they also often doubled as cargo vessels, some of them especially active in the Bay of Biscay, and they serviced northern routes. Over time and in different places, terms referring to boat types mutate or embody different meanings. This seems to have been especially the case with the galeón. In 1513, 50 very small galeones were registered Santander, all dedicated to fishing (Castanedo Galán, 1995). Likewise, most the fishing boats at San Vicente de la Barquera in 1469 were known as galeones. Others ships with this designation were considerably larger and were involved in what was then called the Carrera de Flandes (Stradling, 1992). Finally, there were armed and reinforced merchantmen bearing that title (Casado Soto, 1988–98). An incomplete list of boats belonging to northern ports in 1534 furnishes fascinating insights into all aspects of shipping besides illustrating the maritime capacity of each of the regions noted above (Casado Soto, 1988–98). It confirms that the province of Guipúzcoa possessed a most formidable capacity with c.14,000 registered tonnage. Of that total, more that a third corresponded to naos and a quarter to galeones. The fleet was intensely concentrated at the ports of San Sebastián and in the Ría de Pasajes. Between them, they counted more than two-thirds of all the vessels and the same total of tonnage. Nevertheless, all along the coast, there were major distortions between boat types at particular ports. The composition of the wool fleet (flota lanera) is also instructive in relation to boat types and cargo capacities. Some recently interpreted archival information relating to the period 1545 to 1551, furnishes insights into this fleet by indicating ships’ names, types, home ports, destinations, owners and masters and the nature and volume of the laded cargo (Casado Soto, 1988–98). The

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only characteristic omitted from the inventory is tonnage. This can be reliably estimated from the number of sacks of wool. These data reveal interesting regional distinctions besides confirming substantial differences in the carrying capacities of boats sometimes regarded as similar. It is evident that naos could carry somewhat more than double the capacity of galeones. Indeed, the number of registered naos at a particular port was a sure indicator of that port’s position in any regional pecking order. Topping the pack in this regard, during the sixteenth century, was Portugalete’s recording of nine, and overall vessel concentration at the ports of the Ría de Bilbao was spectacular. Duesto counted five, Bilbao itself had two and each of the other Nervión river ports namely, Baracaldo, Erandio and Sestao had one nao. Crew numbers averaged 17 on the socalled flota lanera and 27 on the salt trade boats arriving at Santander in the seventeenth century. Different markets were served by different kinds of boats. Boats moving to France carried about 85 tons of wool on average, with other cargo. Larger vessels often only carrying wool sailed to the Low Countries and most of them averaged between 100 and 200 tons of wool (Phillips and Phillips, 1997). Recent estimates have shown that the carriage by sea of so much wool demanded considerable shipping capacity. Indeed, it is possible that the northern wool trade needed an equivalent tonnage to the Indies trade in early modern times. The vessel tonnage calculated for the American trade between 1776 and 1778 has been estimated to be 29,400 tons (García Baquero González, 1976). Anywhere between 1,000 and 2,500 mariners would have been required to man these ships in the 1560s and coincidentally a report on the availability of trained mariners at that time covering the area between the Bidasoa estuary and Santander notes the presence of some 2,000 mariners besides known captains and navigators (Phillips and Phillips, 1997). The naval protection of the lucrative wool trade was lax, and it was not until 1625 that a standing escort was available for the boats travelling northwards (Stradling, 1992). The growing intensification of competition between Spain and her northern neighbours prompted this initiative, almost on the eve of the decline of the wool trade from Santander (Goodman, 1997). However, competition reared its head at an earlier date and it was in this context that a restrictive monopoly was enacted precipitating a fundamental reordering of Portugal’s and Spain’s port hierarchies.

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Part II The Monopoly: Seville, Cádiz and the Andalusi Port Complex

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Chapter 3

Seville The early monopoly policies together with currents and winds helped both Portugal and Spain to carve out a series of maritime and terrestrial networks and surfaces on both sides of the Atlantic. In Spain, Seville and subsequently Cádiz acted as the critical metropoles for this enterprise. In the north, embargoed from direct trading with the colonies, Corunna, Bilbao and Santander came to be locked in to an inner Atlantic world. Lisbon retained a continuous role as the premier Portuguese metropole and port. The impacts of these respective monopoly policies were to have lasting consequences for the ports of Iberia as they fashioned a distinctive port hierarchy. Recognising these spatial realities, it is appropriate to begin with Seville and to discuss the roles of the monopoly institutions that were founded in the port. The arrival of enormous quantities of gold, silver and other valuable colonial goods provided foundations for the meteoric demographic and physical growth of Seville; it energised agricultural production in its extensive hinterland and laid the basis for the emergence of a business infrastructure to support commercial expansion. A cultural and social transformation occurred within society leading to the appearance of unique class structures, some of which had immense resources to spend on decoration and embellishment. This, in turn, provided opportunities for many artisans to prosper and participate in the erection of many elaborate religious and secular buildings. Many of the new arrivals were foreigners and became deeply involved in colonial trade. A diminution in bullion landings and the de facto loss of the monopoly to Cádiz ushered in an extended period of decline and stagnation. It will be confirmed that the drying up of colonial goods landings had catastrophic repercussions for Seville and later for Cádiz. Here, Seville and Cádiz are treated separately, as individually they assumed, over specific time periods, the entire functional mantle of the monopoly.

Locale and context Seville acted for centuries as a focal point in a complex of ports that begins at Cape St Vincent in the Algarve and ends some 80 km from the sea at Seville (Chaunu, 1983). Seville and Lisbon were southern Atlantic Europe’s most significant cities throughout most of the sixteenth century. It is no accident that they were both ports. They both acquired pole positions because of monopoly policies in their respective states. Seville is situated on low-lying alluvial land on a series of low hillocks beside one of the arms of the Guadalquivir River. It was a significant Roman foundation known then as Hispalis. The Arabs called it Isbília and under their tutelage Seville obtained her reputation as a port and dynamic urban centre (Bosch Vila, 1986). Seville ultimately did not lose her major oceanic role simply because the city is located so far inland from the sea (see Figure 3.1). However, Seville is no different to London, Nantes or Rouen. In fact, it is closer to the open sea than Bordeaux or Hamburg. The nature of the river is the crux. Spring and autumn floods vary; low water levels are normal in summer and winter made navigation problematic at times.

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Figure 3.1

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Seville: Context and locale

In the middle of the ninth century and in the first half of the twelfth century, Seville experienced two immense phases of expansion. During the latter period, it could boast of an extension of some 287 hectares. It was a threshold that was not breached or surpassed until the twentieth century (Ladero Quesado, 1989). It then boasted of 7 km of magnificent walls, interspersed with towers, gates and barbicans built by the Almohades and a dense network of streets and lanes (see Figure 3.2). These defences and many other utilities, such as its water aqueducts, remained intact for centuries after the surrender of Seville in 1248 to the Christians. The change of property ownership

Seville

Figure 3.2

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Pre-reconquest Seville

within the city and over most of Andalusia obviously had short- and long-term cultural, economic and social implications (González Jiménez, 1988). Even by the end of the fourteenth century, not all boats actually made it as far as Seville; her essential anteports such as Cádiz and Sanlúcar took many, as did smaller ones on the river, because of ship draught restrictions. At the end of the fifteenth century, there were some 16 shipyards and landing platforms scattered over the Guadalquivir channels leading up from the sea (García Baquero González, 1986). Seville’s sea trade with the Mediterranean decreased during the fifteenth century and was relatively unimportant at its end. It had become essentially an inner Atlantic port. It traded with much of North Africa, had attracted many foreign residents, principally Italian merchants, and maritime trade both in staples and exotics was already well established (Verlinden, 1968). It had assumed the role of ‘capital’ of reconquest Andalusia in the thirteenth century (González Jiménez, 1988). In many ways, then, Seville’s weakness was her ‘inland’ location, but, indubitably, it was also a strength. Her assumption of the role of provincial capital was no mere accident. It was because of her nodal location in lower Andalusia that the settlement was endowed with the role of magnetic collector, assembler and redistributor of the rural surplus (Otte, 1982a). For the city’s success, the former role was critical as its foodstuffs and wood provided the wherewithal to victual the fleet while taxes provided the money to build and expand. The trilogy of olive oil, viticulture products

42

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

and wheat were the foundation of Seville’s prosperity. Without the wealth that derived from these staples, Seville’s American career may not have been possible.

The monopoly Castile was, after all, an intrusive state, which had only achieved some degree of national integration in 1492 after the fall of the kingdom of Granada. To consolidate its territorial integration and ethnic uniformity, it unleashed an Inquisition in the sixteenth century and expelled its remaining Islamic inhabitants, the Moriscos in the early seventeenth century. The state bequeathed to Seville a trade monopoly with its colonies, so that it could monitor, control and filter movements of people, goods and ships and levy taxes through the medium of a series of regulatory institutions (Chaunu, 1955–60). It also influenced many aspects of production. It energised most of Andalusia and it had seismic effects on the Seville–Cádiz axis (García Baquero González, 1988). The monopoly ‘disturbed’ the spontaneous evolution of a national urban hierarchy. A further integral element of the monopoly were convoy arrangements. Another expression of the monopoly was the establishment of specific monopolistic trading companies. Tobacco distribution on the peninsula also came under monopoly regulations, as did the supply of mercury from Spain to the New World mines. Monopolies and Seville were by no means exclusive or synonymous. Port and product monopolies go back to earlier times: Cádiz, for instance, obtained one for trade with Berbería and salt was a long-standing prerogative of the crown. Taking all these measures together it was a manifestation of a political economy in which exclusivity was perceived as practice deriving from the articles of the so-called Treaty of Tordesillas in 1493 (Olmedo Bernal, 1995). In essence, the monopoly was a device to facilitate the configuration of a global maritime network and surface by underwriting the primacy of one metropole (Magalhães Godinho, 1984). One obvious way of achieving this goal was to confine the flow of goods to one port on the peninsula. All other ports in Spain were thus barred from direct trading with the Indias. In addition, most colonies were forbidden to trade directly with each other, especially if the trade involved was perceived as a threat to the Kingdom of Castile (Lorenzo Sanz, 1979–80). Some colonies could not trade directly with Spain (Céspedes del Castillo, 1991). Monopoly ports were subsequently established on the other side of the Atlantic in Nueva España and Tierra Firme (pp. 214–15). The slow economic growth of the River Plate region after its conquest has been instanced as an outcome of such an interdiction (Hamilton, 1934). It was a political economy fortified with vigorous juridical support having profound geographical consequences for the entire HispanoLuso maritime world of the sixteenth century and beyond for a very long time afterwards (Haring, 1918). In theory, all ships had to begin and terminate their journeys at Seville. Outwards they moved to Havana, Veracruz, Porto Bello and Cartegena de las Indias; all subsequently became New World hubs. For commercial purposes, the monopoly recognised in juridical terms the surfaces carved out by the early discoverers (Reparaz, 1931) Given its transcendental implications, it is no wonder that its operations have attracted the attentions of many scholars over the centuries (Veitia Linaje, 1672; Antúñez y Acevedo, 1797; Haring, 1918; Girard, 1932; Chaunu, 1955–60; García Baquero González, 1986; Stein and Stein, 2000; Kamen, 2003; Thomas, 2004). The establishment in 1503 of the Casa de Contratación at Seville effectively acknowledged that a monopoly policy was in force. It is critical to emphasise that this policy had even wider aspirations and goals (Colomar Albajar, 1995). It was designed to ensure that there was no ideological or political subversion of the newly discovered territories. It was a policy of control to ensure that no undesirables settled abroad

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and that neither arms nor ideas crossed the Atlantic, thereby allowing the colonies to unhinge themselves from the metropole. Otherwise, they could become easy pickings for the Kingdom of Castile’s predatory rivals, such as England, France or Holland. The monopoly was also a device for copper-fastening the implications of the 1494 Treaty of Tordesillas and it was underpinned by a raft of laws and legislation (Brotton, 1997). It was a set of instruments derived from contemporary commercial practices that essentially contended that the amassing of precious metals was a cardinal goal of the state in its efforts to bolster all aspects of the nation’s well-being (Solórzano, 1680). Centralisation and exclusivity were the cardinal pillars of the monopoly policy. The state exercised control. It tried to keep foreigners off the pitch; here its efforts never bore fruit as many outsiders retained trading networks vital to Spanish trading interests. Its chief agency was the Casa de Contratación. This institution was endowed with powers to organise, direct and superintend all aspects of the country’s commercial relations with the Indies. Initially, it acted as a customs clearing-house, but its activities quickly broadened to cover legal briefs and even scientific innovations. How can the rigid adherence to a monopoly by Portugal and Spain be explained? While this work focuses on the implementation of the monopoly, its remit does not extend to a consideration of the rationales behind its formulation. The paradox for Spain was that its centralised colonial political economy contrasted with the crown’s acquiescence towards internal regional financial and political privileges. Why then was Seville selected as monopoly hub? It had robust curriculum vitae, and in hindsight, it is not surprising that it was selected as prime metropole for the monopoly. It was one of the largest and most successful trading cities on the peninsula, which had a port. It was located within the most densely urbanised area on the peninsula. The Guadalquivir valley also was the most commercialised region on the peninsula capable of producing and delivering much needed agricultural staples and surpluses, it also had a well-developed regional overland transport network. Already home to many foreign merchants who depended on well-established networks trading mainly with Africa and the Mediterranean, it had a tried and tested business culture, an enterprise ethos and traditions almost unknown in any other port or region on the peninsula (Pike, 1972). The seafarers of the region extending between Tarifa and Cape St Vincent could call on a reservoir of maritime expertise found nowhere else on the peninsula and it was from here that sustained efforts were being made to extend maritime frontiers. Winds and currents off its coast also helped and it was from this area that the first expedition sailed for the Indies. Locational security endowed it with advantages unknown elsewhere. It boasted of a cadre of successful merchants and a tradition in administration, which meant that it had a reservoir of literate functionaries, lawyers and scribes (Morales Padrón, 1989). Its only potential rival, Cádiz, could not muster such a litany of credentials. When Seville was designated as metropole, on 14 February 1503, it was a sentence for stagnation or worse for Cádiz; two centuries later the tables were turned (Girard, 1932). Their remit had punishing effects on all the other peninsular ports for three centuries. None of the northern ports could vie with these advantages, as most were very small and lacked basic infrastructures and none could crow about having such a rich hinterland. Strategic considerations were also important and again no port could vie with Seville in this regard; it could not be assaulted from the sea. The choice of Seville as the prime hub acknowledged what already existed in fact (Chaunu, 1955–60). From the crown’s viewpoint, as much of the coast of Atlantic Andalusia belonged to the powerful Medina Sidonia family, Seville and its adjacent hinterland did not. Travel overland from the ports of Galicia and those of Cantabria or Bizkaia to Castile was a real ordeal. Movement from Seville to Madrid was arduous and time consuming and eight days was the sixteenth-century norm (Madrazo, 1984). Seville and all of lower Andalusia benefited

44

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

incalculably for these restrictions (Chaunu, 1983). The well-established ports of the Mediterranean stagnated and many Atlantic ports along the coast of northern Spain sharply declined in size and population especially during the seventeenth century (O’Flanagan, 1996). Was the monopoly so effective then in channelling trade? There were certainly leakages, as all the ports of Atlantic Andalusia, Cádiz especially, and the Canaries drew benefits from these conditions. El Monopolio gradually took on certain porosity (Morales Padrón, 1970). For a very brief period after 1522, a royal cédula permitted another Casa de Contratación to open at Corunna to stimulate spice trade with the East Indies and particularly with the Moloccas (Chaunu, 1955–60). It was a short-lived venture; it never prospered (see p. 210). Otherwise, contraband and fraud were rife. Captains often steered their boats to Portugal before 1580 or, sometimes, to remote Galician rias to avoid the manacles of Sevillian surveillance (Chaunu, 1983). The reasons for the later transfer of the monopoly from Seville to Cádiz relate mainly to ease of access, location and physical geography (see pp. 74, 81). Seville is located 80 km from the sea, approaching ships had to contend with a troublesome sandbar at Sanlúcar de la Barrameda and the river bottom was too expensive to dredge especially in its braided sections. In addition, the logistics of moving large ships such a long distance up narrow river channels provoked all sorts of bottlenecks especially when turning around was involved. Hence, in 1535, when the tribunal of Cádiz [Juzgado de Cádiz] was founded, it permitted this port to participate in colonial trade, although goods unloaded at Cádiz had to be sent up river to Seville. Further relaxations in the monopoly decreed in 1556 allowed Cádiz, from that point on, to deal with passengers. Provision for a certain proportion of space on ships loaded at Seville was made for goods to be subsequently taken on at Cádiz. It was in this way that the Bahía de Cádiz began to challenge the commercial supremacy of Seville. Major threats came from elsewhere. Lisbon was the principal menace (Perez Embid, 1948). They were neutralised between 1580 and 1640 when Portugal was occupied and incorporated into the Castilian realm. The fact that in the late sixteenth century more than 95 per cent of all recorded imports and exports were conducted within the ambit of El Monopolio and 90 per cent went through Seville is a sure touchstone of state success in controlling trade (Chaunu, 1955–60). Bullion landings were often diverted to other ports or even taken by ships near the coast to be re-directed to Antwerp or Genoa. In the mid seventeenth century, alarm at the loss of trade to the Canaries provoked the Casa de Contratación at Seville to close down its official trading links with Spanish America (see pp. 118–25). This was, after all, a period of tolerance and sometimes even encouragement (Chaunu, 1955–60). A monopoly policy in one form or other remained in force until 1778. Metropole status was transferred officially from Seville to Cádiz in 1717 and many ardent reformers ever more earnestly assailed the monopoly policy in the years of the Spanish Enlightenment (Walker, 1979). Revised, then relaxed on several occasions during the latter half of the eighteenth century, the monopoly was finally abolished in 1778. Luminaries were not its only antagonists; colonial producers even more resolutely opposed it, since it always reduced their profits. Consequently, smuggling, contraband and fraud invariably attended its implementation. The arrival of ships with colonial cargoes at other ports was often a representation of evasion, but at least between 1580 and 1640, when Portugal and Spain were united, the attractions of Lisbon for wayward captains brusquely diminished (Chaunu, 1955–60). The monopoly was designed to benefit the state; there were times even when its custodians siphoned off the rewards (Lorenzo Sanz, 1979–80). On the peninsula it had profound regional implications; it reinforced the economy of much of Andalusia and may have been a factor contributing to the decline of Old Castile. It certainly benefited Seville and subsequently Cádiz. It inordinately favoured the fortunes of some classes. It is tempting to view the genesis and evolution of the monopoly and its territorial implications through a contemporary lens. In the end, it concerned an extension of the kingdom across the

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Atlantic, which involved notions of hierarchy and subordination. It was not underpinned by concepts of centre- and periphery-derived modern discourses on colonialism. It was predicated rather by notions of exclusivity of exploitation for the crown’s benefit. As a policy, it had profound geographic outcomes on both sides of the Atlantic, especially for particular port cities and their hinterlands. The downside implications were exclusion and economic stagnation for most other ports. As a policy in operation for nearly three centuries, it experienced many challenges and modifications up to the end of its shelf life in 1778 (Lorenzo Sanz, 1979–80). The merchants of Seville and later Cádiz often perceived change as an assault on privilege. Yet, even when some 20 per cent of inter-American commerce was in the hands of the state companies, foreigners were allowed to establish themselves at Cádiz during the eighteenth century and trade under license. Heretofore, their engagement was not encouraged and paradoxically their involvement was used as a weapon by the Cádiz merchant constituency against any dilution of the cannons of the monopoly.

Facilitating institutions Seville, then, did not become Europe’s largest and most dynamic city in the sixteenth century by accident (Carande, 1969). Neither did it attain its status simply as a consequence of the influx of gold and silver from the New World and the arrival of merchants and bankers to siphon this wealth to other parts of Europe or the peninsula (Otte, 1978). It happened because of a happy (for some) series of coincidences and the rigorous imposition of a series of fiscal and other policies (Lorenzo Sanz, 1979–80). They were designed to monitor and regulate most aspects of trade by a then fledging state implemented by several gate-keeping agencies (Olmedo Bernal, 1995). They were managed by the Council for the Indies [Consejo de Indias], which emerged in the second decade of the sixteenth century as a mobile institution and was the supreme agency for colonial supervision (Medina Encina, 1981). It was one of three state secretariats, the others being one for the realm and for Flanders (Schafer, 1935–47). Its structure was modified on several occasions, notably in 1717. Fortunately for Spain, when the opportunities of the New World were being realised, Seville’s pivotal commercial role was already a reality (Mollat du Jourdan and Adam, 1966). Once ships passed into the river they were safe from foreign predators; then they moved firmly into the clutches of the agents of a cash-hungry state. The context for the establishment of Seville’s two most critical regulatory institutions, namely La Aduana and La Casa de Contratación, does not concern us (Haring, 1918). What, then, were the geographical implications of the activities of these agencies? La Aduana The former, La Aduana, acted as the customs. Here, at least in theory, any merchandise moving inwards or outwards was monitored and the state squeezed copious tolls from owners or shippers. Its headquarters, located near El Arenal, was only finally completed in 1587. Apart from being one of the busiest places in the city, it was regarded by many as a visually appealing edifice. It was always full of people and brimful of merchandise from all corners of the world. Between the late 1580s and 1640, it was the headquarters of all the customs houses on the peninsula. It was a hive of restless funcionarios – officials – some 257 in all, who monitored the comings and goings of every inbound or outbound commodity. For fiscal purposes, the customs zone of Seville included the entire city and its immediate suburbs and everything else within a radius of five leagues. All the customs houses down-river were subject to the rigorous controls of La Aduana.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

La Casa de Contratación This institution managed commercial relationships with Seville’s colonies and was conceived as an instrument to administer new discoveries (Galbis Díez, 1980). The thrust of its activities was reflected in its other title: La Casa del Océano (Morales Padrón, 1989). To realise these ends, it progressively acquired an ambitious range of supplementary functions (Veitia Linaje, 1672). Established as early as 1503 and initially located in a riverside warehouse in the docks beside the ataranzas [dockyards], it was transferred because of security considerations to the Alcázar Viejo (the old citadel). Its officials assisted in the preparation of the fleets, they provided chandelling services, issued sailing instructions and they meticulously maintained a register of all ship movements. Each ship had its own log provided and signed off by officials on each outward journey and on their return, and the captains were also obliged to submit a receipt autographed abroad by the royal factors. One of its chief officials known as the Factor was responsible for organising the fleets, supplying New World colonists and military alike with necessities not available abroad and stocking the arsenal and furnishing ships and soldiers with arms (Chaunu, 195560). He was one of the three Juezces Oficiales [judges] who were among the its key personnel. There was also a Tesorero [treasurer] and a Comptroller-Contador [purser]. The responsibilities of the factor were somewhat reduced in 1588 when the post of Proveedor [victualler] General de las Armadas was established. The Contador was a critical official whose duties include updating of all the registers and making sure that contraband of any kind was not carried by any vessel. So dramatic was the surge in trade and shipping movement that within the short space of seven years, new statutes were devised in 1510 to regulate the management of the Casa. Effectively, these new statutes amplified its activities while simultaneously systematising its management procedures. New responsibilities secured by the Casa included more intrusive supervision of migration and the formulation and execution of a code of practice to modulate the relationship between sailors, shipowners, outfitters and merchants. In addition, the creation in 1508 of the office of Piloto Mayor was an important departure. He was charged with familiarising sea captains with sailing procedures as well as map reading and map making (Puente Olea, 1900). Other fundamental initiatives taken by the Casa include the foundation of the post of Cartographer [Cartógrafo] in 1519 who took over some of the activities previously discharged by the Piloto Mayor, a post held by Vespucci. Even a university for seafarers was established and its remit was especially directed at navigational training. Furthermore, the Casa was allocated the post of Correo Mayor [chief postmaster] for managing a secure transcontinental postal system, which was a major innovation. Later, two Boats’ Visitors [Inspectores] were appointed to inspect all ships. Visitors and emigrants to the Indies had to register there and some 60,000 did so between 1500 and 1600 (Thomas, 2004, p. 130). Further improvements to the Casa’s management were decreed in 1534, 1536 and in 1552 so that, as the century progressed, it became a more efficiently managed, copiously endowed and systematically structured gate-keeping institution and could even boast of a private church and jail. One of the problems associated with it in its early years was defining the limits of its faculties. What is clear is that it made major contributions to cartography, navigation and science and it continued to function until it was transferred to Cádiz (Araújo, 1992; Puente Olea, 1900). By 1556, the Casa ordered that ships crossing the ocean had to travel in convoy. In addition, it established a clear distinction between the fleets of Nueva España and Tierra Firme. The agency managed the marshalling of fleets; indeed, fleets remained a cornerstone of oceanic transport for the best part of two entire centuries. Another major change was the transfer of the headquarters of the institution to Cádiz in 1717. In effect, Cádiz was acting already as the de facto monopoly

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port from 1680 onwards. An eighteenth century innovation was the establishment of monopolistic trading companies; however, time had moved on and prosperity and success eluded most of them (Rico Linaje, 1983). El Consulado This late-comer institution was another keystone devised to improve the management of overseas commerce (López Guiterrez, 1996). It was founded in 1539 and it usurped some of the then extensive functions of La Casa de la Contratación; others were passed on in 1524 to the Consejo de Indias whose role was directed towards the administration of justice abroad. The principal statutes of El Consulado date to 1556. It was a kind of specialised merchant court and forum and its operations were funded by bonds that all native senior and substantial Spanish traders were obliged to disburse in return for the privilege of dealing with the Indias. Here a principal arbitrator, or prior, adjudicated all financial and legal problems related to overseas commerce and he was assisted by two consuls and by five deputies. The purpose of this innovative institution – earlier models of which had been founded at Burgos – was to process claims as quickly as possible, so that capital and energy was not needlessly tied up in endless litigation in an enterprise that was already replete with risks. It also confirmed contracts of all kinds between different parties. The crown offered slaving contracts – asientos – during the sixteenth century more often to foreigners, even Dutchmen (Donnon, 1930–35). In spite of its role and responsibilities, El Consulado did not have a headquarters of its own until 1598: heretofore it transacted its business at various locations including within the building housing La Casa de Contratación. The official market and warehouse, Casa Lonja, which soon became the symbol of Sevillian maritime achievements, was its final home and it was one of the most fustian and ostentatious buildings in the city. The functions of El Consulado and La Casa de Contratación gradually became intertwined during the later sixteenth century. In fact, two distinct phases have been noted in the evolution of the functions of the Consulado, the first of which involved functions relating to its role moderating colonial trade management and shipping organisation (Stein and Stein, 2000). In the early 1600s, the Consulado acquired expanded functions, several of which were transferred from the Casa. This signalled the crown’s acquiescence to partial privatisation of the monopoly. It was a good tactic but in practice it facilitated even more contraband activities. La Carrera de Indias Carrera in this context defies simple translation. Its summation relates to the promise of wealth and well-being that might be derived from engagement with the American colonies. In practical terms, it means movement of people and goods by sea to and from the Indies (Brochado, 1958). The great phase of expansion occurred between the early 1500s and mid-century (Olmedo Bernal, 1995). Thirty-five boats made the crossing in 1506; the figure for 1550 was 215. Tonnage rose from 3,300 to 32,000 over the same period. Apart from intervening and providing infrastructure at Seville for this great enterprise, the state embarked on a massive and expensive policy of fortification construction abroad and the positioning of permanent garrisons that were often to haemorrhage state finances (Cámara Muñoz, 1998). From 1556 onwards, boats were no longer permitted to sail alone for security reasons. From then on, two annual fleets were organised, the first of which sailed in January and the second in August. The route took the ships first to the Canary Islands and then on to La Deseada where it divided. One section sailed on to Cartegena de las Indias and Portobello, the remainder making for Puerto

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Rico, Santo Domingo and Veracruz in Mexico. These sailing arrangements were subsequently modified because of losses, and in 1564, sailing times were altered to allow boats only to voyage in summertime. The Carrera was not always a growing enterprise; wars, shortages of capital and boats, sailors and especially pilots, natural disasters, disease and much more all took their toll. The 1570s were good years; the late 1580s were a rank disaster. Half of the America fleet, maybe as much as 50,000 tons, was lost by the Invincible Armada. This event also liquidated many of the best ships and sailors. It is no wonder that between 1586 and 1589 no fleets made the Atlantic crossing. The list of ship types reminds us that vessels of all kinds made the journey. There were caravelas, galeones, naos, carracas, urcas and bajeles as well as smaller boats such as polacras, jabeques, tartanas and pataches (Costa Fernandes, 1979). Another suite of boat types plied the Guadalquivir and La Bahía de Cádiz, trans-shipping goods; these included galeras, barcas, saetias and fustas. Each sailing fleet was composed of more than a score of ships of the types already mentioned. A reserve of ships was always held on the peninsula to service the islands and to protect the state, if threatened, by its enemies. It has been calculated that Seville in 1586 boasted of a fleet of some 400 ocean-going vessels, making it unquestionably Atlantic Europe’s premier port. In the Pacific, the Manila Galleon always had to be a large and seaworthy vessel (Scharz, 1939). The residents of the city treated the safe arrival of the fleet at Seville as an awe-inspiring and ritual moment. Many church ceremonials were held to intercede with the almighty for secure passage and thanksgiving. The city and its residents were frozen in advance by expectation. This event was the acme of the year. Everything ground to a halt. Debtors did not pay their debts, everybody waited with apprehension as the market totally depended on fresh gold and silver. If only one of the fleets arrived, the state often confiscated everything it could seize so as to pay off its own debts. Such an occurrence created panic and much misfortune because hundreds, possibly thousands of speculative individuals would be ruined. It was either ruin or enrichment and this precarious condition symbolised the volatile nature of the Sevillian market. It was a city of constant tension, of speculation, of hoarding, of inflation and one where those with inadequate means fought a precarious battle to stay alive. The arrival of the Navío de Aviso [scout ship] unleashed a period of unbounded speculation. How much was the fleet carrying? In what condition were the cargoes? What shortages had developed in the Indies? All of this frenetic conjecturing must have caused many sleepless nights! A touchstone of the success of the superintendence of the Carrera by the Casa de Contratación is evident in the fact that c.90 per cent of the boats first touched base at Seville (Chaunu, 1955–60). What about the rest? Carrying such valuable cargoes, the temptations for all forms of fraud were legion. Many boats loaded contraband and ship manifests did not always tally with what was on board. Lisbon attracted some 70 per cent of the quota not docking at Seville; other ports in Portugal accounted for a further 20 per cent, while smaller amounts were landed at the ports of Galicia or in the zone between Cádiz and Gibraltar. It must be stressed that we are dealing with a minute fraction of the total. Not all of the boats that failed to make Seville did so for nefarious reasons; damage to ships, injured and often sick seaman and winds and currents played their part too. The main naval Atlantic arsenal was located at El Ferrol and from here the convoy’s main protection force, La Armada del Mar Océano had its base. The Carrera was more than simply a braided network of maritime movements and transactions focussed on Seville and several New World ports. It also had major peninsular implications. It established networks of financial, migratory and procurement movements Across and within the peninsula, the capitalist edifice that crystallised around the wool trade of centres such as Burgos, Medina and Valladolid, the metallurgy of the Señorio de Bizkaia, the wood of Cantabria and the cod from the northern ports extended its activities to the Atlantic via Seville.

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Many merchants sent their agents to Seville; others uprooted themselves and settled permanently there. Migrants in transit to the Americas came in their droves. Analysis of the backgrounds and surnames of many padrones of the cargadores, even of the provenance of the boats involved, confirms their northern origins (Chaunu, 1983). The northern coast was a nursery for mariners of all kinds, who participated in the Carrera. Like an octopus, Seville’s tentacles extended throughout the peninsula and beyond, drawing to it characters of all kinds so often celebrated in ‘Golden Age’ literature.

Trade Precious metals and commodities Any economy has to be radically modified if it absorbs a continuous and relentless tidal wave of priceless metals. The kingdom of Castile was no exception. In addition, a significant proportion of what was landed never reached its intended destination; fraudulent actors siphoned it off. After all, there were so many possibilities for acquiring and spending such vast amounts of wealth. Crown and state were keenly aware of the inordinate benefits that could accrue from such hoards. By statute, it claimed 20 per cent of all that was landed. La Casa de la Moneda, or mint, was the most voracious consumer of these metals. Not surprisingly, it was the most stringently managed institution. A new building was erected in 1580 and it counted almost 100 operatives. Up to 1550, the value of gold and silver entering was broadly balanced. After that date, silver went into indisputable long-term ascendancy. Up to 1536, the inward flow was both moderate and consistent. After that date, and particularly from the 1550s, growth was explosive and peaks are evident in the final two decades of the century. How then can it be explained that as untold wealth was drawn into Spain through Seville, prices for staples and luxuries climbed steeply? Merchants, factors, land owners and rentiers insulated themselves against these difficulties, but most people were not protected. Shortages were a constant feature of the city region’s economy because of so many competing demands and it seems that some were sometimes contrived scarcities. That was one section of the balance sheet. On the other side, were the final destinations of the waves of incoming wealth. Here it has been best estimated that half was reinvested into new outfitting and sailings and that the other half, so to speak, was leached out to other corners of Spain, or abroad. Much of these outward flows were probably illegal (Gentil da Silva, 1967). The state, on behalf of the crown, also creamed off a fixed quota. On the peninsula, there was a steady stream moving to Castile and to its chief centre Valladolid which, in turn, was directed to the great fairs at Medina del Campo and Medina del Rioseco. Financiers from these centres, often operating through their own Sevillian-based agents, had put up the initial money. Vast amounts of capital left the country altogether for Italy or northern Europe, largely because of the incredible interest rates demanded by foreign money dealers. In spite of being smothered by restrictive legislation, the banks in Seville covertly participated in the clandestine relocation of gold, silver and money to similar types of entities in other European countries. The authorities were aware of these shortcomings but, for whatever reasons, failed to act decisively against them. These aspects of trade have been the most scrutinised elements of the Atlantic world and many attempts have been made to identify and interpret phases of trade linked to prices cycles in Europe and in Spain (Chaunu, 1955–60; Hamilton, 1934; Haring, 1918; Attman, 1986; Stein and Stein, 2000). Endeavouring to establish links between surges in trade and phases of urban demographic and physical expansion remains a difficult, if not an impossible, challenge. Such a

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goal is even more unrealisable against a background of bouts of plague and other natural disasters. The state’s institutions of surveillance kept a plethora of records relating to the movements of bullion, merchandise and ships and these archives have been dexterously interrogated by scholars (Chaunu, 1955–60; García Baquero González, 1986). It never bothered to precisely count the down and outs. The prodigious nature of these records often facilitates cross-confirmation and they sometimes reveal fraudulent activities especially when ships’ manifests and tax-takes do not synchronise. Records of the avería note the value of goods. Similar data comes from el maravedí al milar, which was administered by El Consulado and which provides a comprehensive list of ships and their cargoes (Chaunu, 1955–60). Customs duties of el almojarifazgo, which have survived, are available at El Archivo de Las Indias and various data and surveys conducted by La Casa de Contratación form other valuable sources. Together they furnish information on the types of ships and their tonnage allowing further cross-correlations and verifications to be established. In relation to ships, for instance, over the period 1500 to 1650, a staggering 102 separate styles of vessels involved in the Carrera have been identified, largely depending on where they were built. These can be collapsed into a score of different major types (Chaunu, 1955–60). Sources for shipping, cargoes and crews for the earlier part of this period are patchy (Pérez Mallaina, 1998). They confirm that smaller boats, such as brigantines, caravelas and fragatas were more common in the early years. Much larger naos, galeones and urcas were more in vogue towards the end of the period (Chaunu, 1983). Additional information indicates changes in the average tonnage of vessels over the same period. Before c.1570, few boats exceeded 200 tons. By contrast, after 1610, few were less than that tonnage and as the century progressed, average vessel tonnage increased to a platform where many were nearly within the 400-ton plus class. It has been calculated that over the century and a half in question, some 5,000 boats of various kinds made one or several transatlantic crossings summing to a total of 18,000 crossings. Over the period, it has been shown that vessel life-spans varied enormously. Nuestra Señora del Pilar, for example, was a large galeón weighing in at some 640 tons. It was built in Havana in 1613 and sailed the Atlantic for 13 years, making an average of two crossings per year, which was above the mean for the great majority of vessels. Smaller boats tended to have shorter life expectancies; many did not exceed a handful of years. The sources noted above have facilitated detailed estimations being made in relation to the annual number of ships crossing the Atlantic, in both directions, and to the nature and value of their of their cargoes. The annual number of boats departing from the Guadalquivir varied enormously and a number of cycles can be identified. Before 1533, numbers fell below 60 and tonnage did not exceed 10,000; 1565 saw the 100-boat tally and the 20,000 ton cargo threshold breached. It was by no means a continuous rise being characterised by major crests and troughs; the overall trend was upwards. Nearly 150 boats sailed out in 1586 loaded with 33,000 tons; 1587 mustered only 31 boats with a total cargo of only 3,000 tons (Chaunu, 1955–60). Tonnage climbed erratically until 1610 despite increases in average vessel size falling back slowly until the 1640s when the decline became continuous and slightly more pronounced. Gross figures of these kinds mask a multitude of cross-currents. We need to be clear what we are dealing with. The departure of slaving ships from the Guadalquivir complex involved the smallest proportion of ships (Franco Silva, 1979). It became a recognisable component in the early years of the seventeenth century and especially after the Portuguese lost their exclusive hold on the asiento which they regained in 1663. From especially 1585 the regulated armadas [convoys], steadily replaced individual merchant-outfitted boats leaving Seville. Likewise, Canary Island departures fell towards the end of the sixteenth century and, in a sense, boats sailing from Cádiz substituted for them.

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What were the Indies? Even more pertinent, what markets were being served by different sectors, different promoters and regulators on the Guadalquivir port complex? The Indies were essentially composed of three elements. To begin with, Tierra Firme incorporated continental South America, then there was Nueva España, which comprised Mexico, Spanish North America including Florida and finally the Caribbean known as Las Islas, which themselves were divided into Islas de Barlovento and Islas del Sotovento. Together, with Spain’s Pacific interests, they made up the outer foreland of the Guadalquivir port complex. Most of the vessels leaving this complex finally docked at ports in Nueva España or Tierra Firme. While sailings to the Caribbean ports were much fewer, they remained a constant over the 150-year period. Over the same period, there were enormous variations in the volumes of boats, goods and their values entering and leaving the ports of Nueva España and Tierra Firme. Up to almost the 1640s, trade with Las Islas was the most important. By the 1550s, Vera Cruz and Nombre de Dios/Puerto Belo were the ascendant ports and they were to retain their premier positions in a seesaw like manner until well after the 1650s. As convoys became more important, Havana emerged in the 1680s as the premier Caribbean port, though Santo Domingo remained a close second from then on. Further intense maritime networks of movement also developed between all of these New World ports. All were connected to the marshalling of both goods and fleets at key ports such as Havana. Outward movements of ships and goods are more reliably known, although the same is not true for Seville-bound ships. There remains a huge problem of explaining the embedded discrepancy between two currents. For obvious reasons, incoming losses of ships was more pronounced (Chaunu, 1983). It does not explain why fewer ships each year made homeward voyages. This is further complicated by extreme difficulties estimating tonnage and the fact that ways of calibrating and recording cargo weights varied over time (Chaunu, 1983). There are the already averred to problems of estimating the values of incoming goods given that under-declaration and contraband were rife, especially when commodities such as bullion were involved. Thus, while tonnage of incoming goods and the number of incoming ships were invariably less than outward movements, the value of what arrived from the Indies was disproportionately higher. For instance, the number of boats arriving rarely exceeded 80; there were good years such as, 1589, 1591, 1600 and 1612 when the 100 mark was breached. From then until 1650, numbers of ships slowly fell; tonnage did not fall so sharply, no doubt reflecting growth in shipping loading capacity (Chaunu, 1955–60). In 1630, for example, 28,000 tons of goods reached the peninsula in 78 ships; in 1603, 69 ships arrived with 17,527 tons. Year-to-year distinctions in the tonnage carried from the New World was significant as the following figures illustrate. In 1598, 23,370 tons arrived; the following year 8,050; in 1600, 27,077 tons were landed and in 1601 some 9,460 tons (Chaunu, 1955–60). However, there were also longer periods where such enormous variations were not evident as between 1605 and 1627, when totals arriving annually exceeded 10,000 tons. Between 1550 and 1650, arrivals mainly originated at Veracruz or Portobello/Nombre de Dios, confirming that Nueva España and Tierra Firme acted as the principal regional hubs of the Atlantic economy. When larger volumes arrived from La Habana, it was usually confirmation of successful convoy organisation. Scholarship has already provided clean and valuable analysis of the flows of bullion [caudales/ tesoros] to the Sevillian port complex (Hamilton, 1934) and similar work has been conducted for later periods at Cádiz (García Baquero González, 1976, 1988). Before the arrival of precious metals, African gold, mainly diverted from Portugal, had become an essential element in the Spanish economy (Suykens and Asaert, 1986). It was the surge during the sixteenth century that changed everything. The figures detailing landings at Seville are in brief. Between 1503 to 1510 and 1521 to 1530, 5,000 kilos of gold arrived; from 1511 to 1520, some 9,000 kilos of gold were landed; the next decade saw 14,446 kilos rising to 42,620 between 1551 and 1560, which represented the

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

crest of the incoming tide (Bennassar, 1983). From then on, the average decennial intake was in the order of 10,000 kilos with a final peak of some 20,000 kilos during the last decade of the century. By 1630, the volume of silver imports exceeded those of gold. The opening of mines in northern Mexico and Peru further accelerated the production of silver. By 1561, the annual intake at Seville rounded to 94 tons and by the end of the century some 250 tons arrived. Already, by the 1550s, silver imports were more valuable than gold. It has been calculated that between 1503 and 1660, some 25,000 tons of silver came through Seville. Another estimate is of 16,000 tons over the period 1500 up to 1650 (Stein and Stein, 2000, pp. 231–241). It has been shown that, contrary to popular views, Seville was no simple staging post where metals arrived and were subsequently redistributed to other ports in Europe (Bennassar, 1983). True, the crown netted a fifth, much of which went abroad to pay bankers and soldiers. Some more went to foreign promoters who financed several of the voyages. Most stayed on the peninsula, where it bankrolled agriculture and proto-industries, supported all aspects of art, architecture and construction, and paid thousands of artisans who built and embellished many churches, houses, palaces and public buildings (Vilar, 1978). Other products also commanded high prices and there was usually a constant demand for them amongst the privileged in Europe. Dyes, exotic woods and timber, hides, sugar, plant products ascribed medicinal powers and tobacco were shipped in enormous quantities to Seville to be subsequently redistributed across Europe. The dyes and medicinal products mainly originated in the Caribbean and the isthmus of Nueva España. Sugar came from all of Seville’s major foreland components and especially the islands, while a cattle economy boomed especially on Santo Domingo in areas where the indigenous population had been removed by disease or by force. Sugar from the Indies, of course, was a most critical initial import and its importance declined throughout the century. Tobacco imports, by contrast, grew in value and volume. Overall, the most lucrative years for landing bullion extended from 1581 to 1630 (Hamilton, 1934). Broadly, these years also correspond to the best years of commodity imports measured in terms of their value (Chaunu, 1955–60). Over the period 1561 to 1650, the value of bullion imports exceeded all other imports by ratios varying between 2:1 and 5:1. These figures relate to declared and taxed imports, which must have been significant under-estimations given the prevalence of fraud. These figures confirm the extraordinary value of what arrived on the peninsula during those golden years. Admittedly, there were more often troughs than crests of capital inflows and various types of cycles have been recognised (Chaunu, 1955–60). Most of the period was a conjuncture during which the metropole notched huge trade surpluses in its favour. It was the relentless arrival of floods of ‘treasure’ that attracted thousands to Seville to seek their fortune in the city or abroad as participants in the Carrera. It promoted explosive population growth and urban expansion so that in the early years of the seventeenth century, Seville surpassed Lisbon in size and population. Before the second decade of the same century, the volumes and value of incoming treasures took a nosedive lasting nearly for a half century. Cádiz took up the challenge after 1680. The treasures of a bountiful hinterland Neither the Iberian nor the foreign resident merchants at Seville were so besotted with gold and silver that they would not turn their attention to profits they could obtain from trading in agricultural products from Andalusia, or even further a field. Wheat, wines and olive oil were the principal exports, and wool, sugar, honey and wax were further behind in shipping inventories. As we have already seen, manufactured, semi-finished and finished goods were also in the ships’ cargo manifests. There were preserved fish and meats, medicines, shoes, cloths and tools. Wheat, olive

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oil and wine were, however, in volume and perhaps also in value, outstandingly the most important exported item and, of these, wheat was the undisputed leader. Nevertheless, wheat production and wheat availability were not all plain sailing. Just like the flow of the river Guadalquivir, there were times of plenty and times of severe scarcity, and market conditions were as influential as climate in this regard as demand in ‘unfaithful lands’ was more often than not a cause of shortage. There were often famines, as in 1557 and in 1560, when panable cereals had to be imported. On other occasions, shortages were provoked at Seville by massive exports of wheat to the Indies. Wheat and flour price movements were crucial barometers of well-being in sixteenth-century Seville. Its usually adequate water supply, its wonderful climate and its reserve of landesque capital derived from Arab-Islamic occupation gave it more than an edge. Nowhere else on the peninsula could boast of such excellent regional communications. It may well be that the prosperity of agriculture in Seville’s hinterland was more a consequence of growth of internal demand rather than a response to shortages in the Americas (García-Baquero González, 1986). Whatever the case, discovering America massively energised production in El Aljarafe.

The urban economy Banking, finance and insurance Seville was a boom city and to sustain its growth private initiatives could be as decisive as state support (Heers, 1960). With so many precious metals and other high-value goods in transit, credit was a necessity and money changers/lenders alone could not oil the wheels of commerce. The sixteenth-century banker was thus a kind of treasurer and contemporary comment on the trustworthiness of banks was generally favourable (Carande, 1972). Popular views were to the contrary: banks were associated with foreigners, moneylenders and social outcasts. Banks were novel institutions. A patent had to be sought and granted by the city council for their establishment. In return, law obliged the banker to accept money, gold and other valuable items. The banks provided such services as loans, current accounts and they changed or held money (Olmedo Bernal, 1995). They even provided some legal advice for services such as chartering. There were never more than six major banks in the city. Many had short life-spans. Genoese, Florentine and Pisan bankers were active, as were some Spanish houses, one of the most famous being the extended family of the converso Espinosas (Ladero Quesada, 1989). Like all institutions, they had their cycles and the 1550s were bad times. Scholarship now points at excessive fiscal levies for military payments as being responsible for the recession that drove several of them to the wall. As quickly as some failed, new ones started to function. What is clear is that despite being the sixteenth-century silver ‘capital’ of the world, a banking structure commensurate with Seville’s gravitas did not emerge. Why? This is an issue where the jury is still out. It may be linked to the episodic and frenetic periods of commercial activity after the arrival of the fleet punctuated by extended periods of torpor. The absence of a dynamic urban manufacturing tradition removed another pillar of potential support. The telling fact is that agents working for foreign bankers had corralled the pitch: they had access to vast cash reserves that their Castilian competitors could not call upon. Families like the Espinosas were exceptions. Production Visitors to early sixteenth-century Seville concur on the city’s opulence, splendour and wealth. Many commented on the abundance and diversity of food available and plentiful exotics. It is

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

often forgotten that Seville was a major long-standing provisions market and exporting port since Roman times and especially under Arab occupation (Collantes de Terán, 1984). Wheat, wine, olive oil, meat, fruit and salt were amongst the many items sent out to the New World from its generous hinterland. This made Seville an essential regional market in which the river was a major resource for transport, irrigation, public water extraction for consumption, recreation and ornamentation. Seville was a major artesanal centre, where certain streets specialised in particular activities and crafts. This artesanal tradition produced goods for Seville, its ‘region’ and far beyond. In this sense, Seville was a major consumer of primary goods and foodstuffs and a regional manufacturing centre. Wealth from America was not employed to either expand or significantly diversify the manufacturing base (Carande, 1972). Essentially the urban economy was more mercantile than manufacturing or industrial. Indeed, the notion of industrial is not helpful in these circumstances (Pike, 1972). Workshop manufacture was most frequent and most counted less than a half score of often family operatives (Bernal et al., 1978). Shipbuilding, outfitting and ship repair, ceramics, soap making and textiles were all represented (Morales Padrón, 1989); so also were hosts of leather trades and, in addition, a plethora of woodcraft specialists. Each of these trades was organised into a specific guild or fraternity. Curiously, the vitality of the indigenous urban economy is often brushed aside in many assessments of Seville’s ‘Golden Age’. For an expanding city, wood was a prerequisite and, in the case of Seville, this was a double imperative considering its intensifying links with America. Early in the sixteenth century, easily accessible regional hardwood resources were well exhausted and poorer stocks such as pine were used in spite of being unsuitable for ship building and repair (Morales Padrón, 1989). Wood was also a critical commodity for a city dedicated to agricultural exports such as biscuits for its armies, navy and merchantmen and olive oil, wheat and wine for various overseas markets. Wood, too, was a vital ingredient for construction, furniture and transport. Indeed, most processes of production and transformation had a voracious appetite for wood, such as glass making, soap production, pottery, ceramics and tile making. In one month in 1587, it was recorded that some 270,000 pipe-staves arrived from northern Europe, as well as a large quantity of oak and pine planks. In fact, it endowed a district beside El Arenal with the name of their trade: La Carretería, or the wheelwright’s quarter. For one of Europe’s most prosperous cities in the sixteenth century, production related to defence was vital. Street nomenclature reveals a Calle de las Armas and the famous main street Sierpes derives from Calle de los Espaderos [sword-cutlers] where there was also an artillery production facility. Present indications suggest that most of these enterprises progressively declined during the sixteenth century. Another crude measure of the relative weakness of armament enterprises is that in 1596, the Cabildo of Seville sent buyers abroad to negotiate arms purchases (Morales Padrón, 1989). An artillery ‘factory’ was located at mid-century in the barrio of San Bernardo where several furnaces were located for casting bronze cannon. Gunpowder was also produced mainly on, and in, the vicinity of the Calle de Betis. Our information about gunpowder makers is more comprehensive, largely because of a major catastrophe in 1579, when the facility of a Venetian owner exploded causing hundreds of fatalities and substantial structural damage over a wide area. Ship chandelling and ship supply crafts of all kinds flourished over the period and ship repairing was a vital activity to judge from the many people listed as being employed in offices. such as carpenters, caulkers and canvas makers. Shipbuilding on the other hand was a low-key activity. Here there were no docks or proper slipways and the lack of suitable and consistent supply wood was a major problem. The city had many soap manufactories and was self-sufficient in production. Added valued, a rare attribute of the port’s economy, was more a feature of leather enterprises because of the efforts that went into their embellishment. All the arts associated with leather production were represented in the city and pelts were also exported to the New World until about

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mid-century when the flow was reversed. Textiles are claimed to have provided work for 30,000 weavers on some 3,000 looms – although this seems a wild exaggeration. True, merchants put out the raw materials and any city so well bestowed with convents was sure to boast of many weavers. Still, textiles of all kinds were produced in the city, although this activity seems to have had a very short life-span: it grew rapidly and was to decline as quickly in the latter half of the century. Others scholars, however, have argued that textile production was more dynamic in the first half of the sixteenth century when the colonies were regarded as no more than major resource collection areas. An Italian traveller mentioned in 1526 that Seville was an important textile producing centre and it exported both ordinary clothes and cloths of all kinds as well as silks, shirts and doublets (Pike, 1966). It was a centre, too, for the re-export of English and Valencian cloths. The production of pottery and ceramics of all kinds remained a central enterprise in Seville during its golden age. Ordinary utensils were made and a mingling of Islamic, Italian and Spanish influences combined in some of the exquisitely designed ceramics, which were largely exported to the New World. Here, they were given pride of place in cathedrals, mansions, palaces and public buildings. Visitors mention the presence of at least 50 furnaces alone in Triana at mid-century. While it may have housed the densest concentration of furnaces making ceramics, others were also located at San Marcos, San Pedro and San Vicente to mention a few other parishes. Seville was also Spain’s most important centre for book publishing: more than 400 titles alone were published in the first quarter of the century. Not surprisingly, the first Castilian edition of the El libro de maravillas (The Book of Marco Polo) was printed in Seville. Book production and book selling were invariably the same office. An inventory of 1525 reveals that one seller counted 1,430 single volumes in his portfolio. The son of the discoverer Hernando Colón had a library of some 20,000 volumes in his palace library. Exempt from taxes, book publishers and sellers were obviously almost a privileged caste whose special status is acknowledged in the ordenanzas [regulations] of the city. Paper production was also a labour-intensive activity and it also supplied very lucrative playing cards sets, especially to the colonist soldiers in America. Nearly 60,000 packs were exported annually across the Atlantic to gambling-addicted armies. It is no wonder that all the arts experienced a phase of great novelty and creativity, as merchant, municipal and religious patronage was often easily available. Merchant finance It is difficult to briefly and concisely address the complexities of merchant involvement in the management and finance of trade over an extended period given tortuous mutations in their roles, the inputs of the state, and the range of merchandise and raw materials involved (Olmedo Bernal, 1995). The state did its utmost to control all aspects of bullion, channelling all of it through Seville initially and later via Cádiz, it exercised a monopoly on salt distribution, it controlled many aspects of tobacco exchange, and it attempted to coerce merchants and shippers to pay all sorts of levies and tariffs on the movement of goods. There was a vast array of stakeholders, participants and gatekeepers implicated in the trading procedures for different commodities. There were shippers, ship charterers or owners, captains, merchants, artisans and financiers, and one individual could discharge simultaneously several discrete roles. Many traders established specific legal contracts for particular voyages so that the risks, costs and profits could be shared. On shore, ephemeral associations of traders of various kinds were also formed to buy an entire cargo, or part of one, so that each participant could profit from selling it. Sometimes individuals acted almost as agents for the owners of the merchandise in transit and arranged their sale at the port of destination. In this way, a measure of the vitality of a port

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

at particular times in the past might be evident in terms of a diversity of contractual associative formulas between various trading interests and their levels of sophistication Access to credit and capital was critical for most people involved in the shipping and sale of goods. The so-called préstamo amistoso or ‘friendly loan’ is a frequent financial and legal vehicle mentioned in the protocolos notoriales of the seventeenth century. This seems to relate to relatively modest loans, most of which are outlined in a pro forma fashion, not specifying penalties for nonpayment after the elapse of a specific time-period and other vital details. This kind of credit seems to have been especially associated with routine regional and local inter-port trading. Another common formula was the offer of credit a pérdida y ganancia – for loss or gain. In such an instance, money was provided to a merchant or captain, who purchased or sold goods. When the transactions had been completed at different ports, the donor received, within a specific time period, the principle and half of the profits. The details of the contract were usually signed in the presence of a lawyer. A procedure of this kind had certain advantages. It allowed the investor distance from the mechanics of maritime administration, such as chartering a boat or loading goods. All the investor expected at the end of the contract was the repayment of the principal and whatever profits had accrued. In this way, the investor was pledged at least the return of the principal. This form of financial activity seems to have been popular amongst people of modest means who wanted to make small outlays with a fair cushion of security. In the seventeenth century, it seems to have been favoured by shopkeepers, traders and often the widows of merchants who continued family traditions by making small advances of cash. At Santander, during the same century, this kind of investment was directed principally towards the coasting trade with Galicia and it was a much favoured investment vehicle for widows (Echevarría Alonso, 1995). More substantial merchants favoured another procedure then known as préstamo a interés. This method of finance involved the transfer of capital to a shipper or boat owner who was about to leave a port with the charge that they used the money to purchase goods at their destination. The escrituras of the time testify that this form of agreement obliged the debtor to purchase goods at the other port and return with them so that they then could be sold. Documents indicated the amount paid, where the goods were to be bought, the goods favoured by the lender and the time period for expediting the contract. They finally noted the rate of interest to be returned (Bustos Rodríguez, 1990). Once again, the investor was well protected and an activist could also profit if there were a significant variation in the inter port price of the goods (Parker, 1973). There were other types contracts such as the so-called a la gran aventura and the usura marítima; the latter was favoured for fishing expeditions to Terranova. It is evident, then, that different types of trading activity favoured particular types of contractual financial agreements and one of the most discriminating features in this regard was the scale of the trade involved. The prominent degree of participation in some maritime endeavours by small investors, even from minor ports, in the seventeenth century is also noteworthy. Many of the voyages sponsored in this manner involved ships with what we would call today general merchandise. A ship that docked at Comillas in Cantabria in the early seventeenth century carried a mixed cargo consisting of the following: cinnamon, serges, silk, ham, saffron, dyes for textiles, flannels, string, marking tapes, woollen-stuffs, paper, dyes, incense, cotton, ribbon, combs, thread, rosary-beads, palm oil, wax, cambrics from Flanders and horse hair. All of these articles were carried in very small quantities and had been ordered by four shopkeepers (Echevarría Alonso, 1995). The ship’s manifests studied for Seville by Chaunu (1955–60), those for Cádiz by García Baquero González (1988) and Bustos Rodríguez (1990) and for Lisbon (Fructuoso et al., 2001) coincide in the prominence of general cargoes being dispatched outwards from Europe.

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Behind the merchants and the crown were foreign financiers, and it was they who exercised a controlling role, for centuries, over most of Castile’s international commerce. Even today many of Cádiz’s street names echoe their presence and influence. It is increasingly evident that they were active in the early sixteenth century wool trade (Phillips and Phillips, 1997). The mercury deposits at Almadén were pawned to German financiers by a cash-strapped monarch. Few Castilian financiers operating out of Burgos or Seville could match the monetary reserves of their foreign competitors; they lacked the commercial expertise and the international networks that Germans, Genoese and Florentines had established. When Phillip II allowed the direct export of precious metals in the 1550s from Castile, many merchants simply departed and left their agents to handle their affairs. By then, Castile was part of a globalising economic surface that extended from Cape Finisterre to Nagasaki, and neither the crown nor its agents could ‘control’ this complicated patchwork of commercial circuits. A recent assessment of the peninsula contends that it was a kind of entrepôt hosting an edifice of colonial commerce (Kamen, 2004, p. 294). This would appear to be an extreme view. Merchants’ associations The inflow of such wealth to Seville permitted some merchants to acquire fortunes and, armed with such a degree of liquidity, some could finance overseas enterprise. More often than not, a small number of people, usually some combination of capitalists, merchants and specialists, banded together and pooled their expertise and resources to finance a trading venture. In this way, money, skills in navigation, technology in the form of boats and European commodities were supplied in various proportions. Much of this trading was conducted on account (Olmedo Bernal, 1995). These business associations were short-term contracts; they were invariably confirmed as legal instruments. Many merchants attempted to insure their maritime activities by means of a collective type of insurance known as an avería. The Casa de Contratación and its officials, including a specific judge, from El Consulado administered it. It was one of the most complex, original, vital and sustaining elements of the Carrera (Chaunu, 1955–60). It was a kind of merchants’ insurance cover, levied proportionately to the value of the merchandise consigned by a shipper or owner and promulgated by a cédula in 1573, and the procedure was in force until 1650 (Chaunu, 1955–60). In this way, a merchant might recoup losses resulting from damage, piracy or shipwreck. As prices differed from source of supply to final market or because of supply demand differentials, the value of goods was constantly changing, so it is impossible to explain basic prices. The proceeds of successful enterprise were also divided up in relation to the initial investments. Many such agreements served to factor ships sailing out with goods and returning with metals, dyes, spices or other commodities. The profits came when the imports were finally disposed of for cash. It was clearly an undertaking full of insecurity and risk. There were many hazards and conditions that imperilled such endeavours. The risks included the safe and prompt arrival of the fleet, prices, colonial demand for European goods and war or peace. If successful, the gains could be stupendous for their promoters. These arrangements were fine in theory, but their integrity was often eroded by enormous price mark-ups on commodities before they left the peninsula. Soon, New World residents noted the smothering nature of the monopolio and they began to seek other sources of supply, or more logically, many sought to produce what they imported and attempted to become economically self-sufficient, or they sought to acquire merchandise illegally. Seville became both port and entrepôt. It traded and re-exported goods from the colonies. It exported agricultural products from its rich and varied hinterland all over Europe and the Mediterranean and to Berbería or North Africa and it also exported goods that were processed in the city and surrounding towns. It imported goods from all of these sources and from other parts of the peninsula. In this way, its heavy bulk hinterland was mainly restricted to lower Andalusia.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

In the sixteenth century, it probably could claim to have the most extensive foreland of any trading port in the world, with the possible exception of Lisbon. In volumetric terms, the inward flow of goods was certainly the greatest of any rival port. It was also the leading European importer and dispenser of gold and silver during most of the century (Carande, 1972). To date, the details of Seville’s trade with the New World are better known than its mercantile relations with the rest of the peninsula and with Europe. Also, the pioneering research of Chaunu has firmly put the spotlight on overseas activities (Chaunu, 1955–60). The survival of the registers in the Casa de Contratación, the documents in the Archivo de Protocolos where many contracts are located and the contents of the Archivo de Indias together furnish a superb array of sources for the scholar of Seville, its merchants and their trading networks.The Aduana archives were lost in an eighteenth-century flood (Cuenca Toribio, 1991). The decisive element was the inward arrival of another triumvirate of goods, namely oro, plata y mercancías. The scale of this movement has been estimated by Chaunu as follows: between 1504 and 1555, 212,000 tons of raw materials and merchandise left Seville for the New World; 1,606,000 tons were landed there in spite of heavy losses of boats and sailors. Seville’s role as the crown’s largest assembler, redistributor and re-exporter of surplus agricultural production has been seriously overlooked. During the sixteenth century, this aspect of its activities went from strength to strength. Prior to its New World career, it was shipping these kinds of goods throughout the Mediterranean. The arrival of vessels from northern Europe with goods destined for the colonies generated a reverse trade in cereals, olive oil and wine. New World demand was very strong in the early sixteenth century, as miners, slaves and settlers all had to be fed and clothed. Assembling, warehousing, packing and shipping of these goods created much employment and stunning profits for the mainly Italian-controlled export trades.

Early morphology and ‘port’ Late medieval and early modern Seville had almost a circular shape (see Figure 3.2). The port was on the edge rather than being the centrepiece of the settlement. The wall encircled a very extensive area. Essentially, in medieval times, both Islamic and Christian phases of development were superimposed on an earlier Roman base. The defences represent these early inheritances, as does much of the urban core’s morphology, especially its street patterns (see Figure 3.2). Further elements of its ancient internal territorial structures may be reflected in the layout of its parishes and leading property boundaries. Even today, Seville’s urban core is one the most extensive in Spain, emphasising the fact that by the twelfth century the settlement covered some 287 hectares (Ladero Quesada, 1989). A major expansion of the walls to include this vast area was completed in the twelfth century before its ‘reconquest’ (see Figures 3.2 and 3.3). Even under Arab control, Seville was a major hub of regional fluvial and terrestrial communications, linking Cordoba and the Aljarafe with the sea. It was also a market centre of great vitality, a significant port and a regional centre with many administrative, cultural, military, production and religious functions (see Figure 3.3). It was a port whose earlier strongest maritime connections were with North Africa and the Mediterranean. On the eve of its capture by the Christians, less than half of the then walled area was urbanised. The demographic and economic consequences of ‘reconquest’ for Seville in 1248 are unclear. Significant morphological change did not occur for at least two centuries. Before that date, it was already in economic decline and the numbers of Christian new arrivals appears to have been small. Many settled in some nine parishes [collaciones] on the south-east of the settlement. The Christian presence was more evident on the outskirts and religious orders erected a suite of

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imposing convents and monasteries. Extensive empty spaces were a feature of these extramural areas. Another only partially developed zone was sited close to the cathedral and the Alcázar, which soon witnessed the erection of many of the structures that we associate with Golden Age Seville, such as its ataranzas.

Golden Age port city The exclusive colonial trading monopoly awarded to Seville provided it with an opportunity that no other port city in Spain could challenge. Spain in the sixteenth century was El Reino de Castilla and not simply the peninsular reality, which we think of today. It was a dispersed European empire assiduously assembled by Charles V and his son Phillip II. It evolved into something very different from the ragbag of weakly connected and poorly developed provinces that had been under the tutelage of the Reyes Católicos. Over the sixteenth century, the population of the port city trebled and, by its close, it exceeded 100,000 residents making it then the largest city on the peninsula, at least on a par with Lisbon. It is worth again emphasising that during this period the lower Guadalquivir valley was by far the most urbanised part of the state with more than ten settlements whose individual totals exceeded 10,000 people. Catalonia recorded only one and Portugal had only four settlements of that size. The epidemics of 1601 and 1649 reaped a vast harvest of humanity, but it was the loss of colonial monopoly privileges that dealt a mortal blow to Seville’s ascendancy (Bennassar, 1983). Both Andalusia and Seville retained much of their economic vitality during the seventeenth century, the opposite being the case throughout most of Castile (García Baquero González, 1986). It is sometimes difficult to discern whether it was Seville’s colonial trade that anchored the economy of the region or the degree to which prosperity in Andalusia contributed to Seville’s well-being (Domínguez Ortiz, 1946a). The explanation must rest in both contexts. But where was Seville’s ‘port’? It was not physically confined simply to the urban area or immediately outside it (Vioque Cubero et al., 1987). It stretched along the braided river channel, in effect, right down to the sea, many kilometres away and continued through a necklace of ports, along the Algarve to Cape St Vincent. At Seville proper, it extended from the Torre de Oro to the Puerta de Triana and was known as El Arenal covering some ten hectares (see Figure 3.3). All the early ‘views’ of the city endow the river port with prominence. This is certainly true of de Medina’s 1548 representation from his Libro de las Grandezas y Cosas Memorables de España, which shows El Arenal and the city’s wall as centrepieces. Braun’s more realistic and accurate depiction, from later in the same century, records a waterside cluttered with ships, yet El Arenal seemed to lack any port infrastructure (Plate 1). It also depicts most of the walled area as being urbanised and it confirms that significant extra mural growth had transpired particularly around Triana. His depiction allows us to easily locate the main urban arteries and major open spaces and public buildings (Montoto, 1940). The ‘port’ itself was small and narrow and was sited in the area between the Torre de Oro and the pontoon bridge linking it to Triana (Araújo, 1992).Three distinct zones were recognisable: El Muelle de Barranco, El Muelle del Arenal, sited in front of the gate of the same name, and finally El Muelle de la Aduana. These were not the kind of docks of more modern times but crude landing sites (Alemany, 1991). Squadrons of small boats were the workhorses of a port without an adequate infrastructure of quays and cranes. Dockers working in the port were united since 1556 in the Gran Compañía de los Compañeros de Carga y Descarga del Puerto de Sevilla (Alemany, 1991) and were also members of the Hermandad de Nuestra Señora de la Estrella. Dredging technology of the day was unable to cope, there or elsewhere, with silting problems, although an ‘engine’ is

Figure 3.3

Seville: Discovery city. Adapted from Guàrdia et al., 1994, p. 187, Figure 9

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depicted on one of the above ‘views’ (see Plate 1). The constricted nature of the port meant that unfavourable winds prevented large boats from even engaging in basic manoeuvres. Most of the leading port-related trading buildings and institutions were located in the southern sector of the settlement in an arc fronting the core zone around the striking cathedral between the districts of Cestería and San Bernardo (see Figure 3.3). In and around El Arenal, for example, were located the shipyards, Las Atarazanas, La Aduana, La Alcaicería [silk exchange/bazaar], La Casa de Moneda (sixteenth century [mint]), El Almirantazgo (sixteenth century [admiralty]), La Casa de Contratación (sixteenth century), La Casa de Azogue [mercury warehouse] and nearby were lonjas [warehouses] of mercaderes and the famous example of that of the Genoveses, built in the thirteenth century (Heers, 1982). Across the river, sedate Triana could only boast of a gunpowder production unit (Trueba, 1989). Clustering around the adjacent cathedral were the town hall, more gradas and lonjas, the archbishop’s residence and here were some major markets and the principal retail streets (Morales Padrón, 1996). At San Bernardo, there was an arsenal founded in the sixteenth century. The Alcaicería was both one of the foremost Arab-Islamic legacies and it was also the leitmotif of Golden Age Seville (Bardonedo Freire, 2003). Under its roof were the exotica and the precious of the world: carpets and tapestries, jewels, silks, brocades, pearls, perfumes and medicines. From here, they were acquired by the super rich; most of what was sold there was scattered throughout the rest of Europe. A later 1617 panoramic ‘view’ of the city shows boats crowded along the riverside (see Plate 2). It then exuded a beach-like atmosphere thronged with people on parade. Some practised crafts; others were involved in the sale of goods (Guàrdia et al., 1994 ). The immediate port at Seville itself was poorly equipped. Often, there was only one wooden pontoon bridge available, which could not handle the growing volume of movement between Seville and its famous suburb, Triana. There were inadequate facilities for ship repair at this ‘port’. That problem later solved itself when ships became larger and ultimately the shipyards of the Bahía of Cádiz became pre-eminent. These yards themselves seem to have had their share of difficulties, especially from the seventeenth century onwards. There were many complaints about the lack of skilled labour and many ships put to sea, without being adequately repaired or fitted out, which was often a sure recipe for disaster. The ‘port’, in effect stretched over 80 km and in such a lengthy estuary where most of the channels are shallow and alluvium deposits cause problems (Pérez Embid, 1968), extreme events can easily disturb the physical processes at work and the channels often silted up. The abandonment of wrecks can, in these circumstances, trigger such kinds of difficulties by acting as seed beds for sand bars. The presence of a bar some few kilometres north of Sanlúcar remained the most basic hindrance for up-river navigation and this difficulty was progressively aggravated as the size of ships increased. By 1570, a 1,000 ton boat was already a fact. Matters reached a crisis in the early years of the seventeenth century when boats were interdicted from sailing the entire passage during the low water months of June, July and August. There was a plethora of small ports such as Bonanza, Borrego, Coria, Horcadas, Las Mulas, Puntal, and San Juan de Aznalfarache and there were many other roadsteads (see Figure 3.1). Of these, the anteport of Sanlúcar de Barrameda was by far the most significant. The hub of the complex was El Arenal at the edge of the city (see Figure 3.3). This is the area so often depicted by painters and meticulously described by visitors. It was all bustle. It throbbed with marine-related activities and it was even a favourite popular locale for the rich of both genders to promenade. Its bridge was the centrepiece of the port complex (see Plate 2). The condition of the river bed with its sands and mud made a causeway-type structure imperative and so a wooden passage of some three hundred steps was suspended over some 17 floating barges. This

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

unsatisfactory connection was a constant source of difficulty and every natural disaster provoked a crisis of some kind. The braided channels of the Guadalquivir were crowded with smaller boats of all kinds. These boats had a range of different names such as galeras, fustes, lanchas and saetias. Used in like manner to barges on canals, galeras, for instance, carried colonial merchandise upriver. All in all, the trans-shipment of commodities of all kinds from the Bahía de Cádiz and their dispatch up river became increasingly costly because it was so labour intensive and this prepared the way for the ascendancy of Cádiz. The erection of a new wall in the twelfth century, replacing the earlier Almohade structure, had a number of critical implications for the settlement (see Figures 3.2 and 3.3). Encircling a much larger area, it opened vast spaces for urbanisation, which formerly had acted as gardens. A visitor noted that these walls were, in the fourteenth century, ‘in some sections … so new and complete, that it seemed that they had been just finished’. With some 150 towers, perhaps 14 major gates and several posterns, the wall embodied an impressive defence portfolio (see Figure 3.4). Of all the towers, the riverine-located Torre de Oro was the most outstanding, perhaps because of its salient position. Most of the gates were named either in relation to the towns to which they were connected by road, or some still exulted in their Islamic titles such as Bab Maqarana (see Figure 3.4). This most formidable defensive structure had few peninsular rivals. The town’s centre moved southwards, that is in the opposite direction from where the town was expanding. It crystallised around the chief mosque, now the cathedral and Alcaicería. This movement had a transcendental impact, as once established, it remained the focal point for centuries. Around this area, where the Giralda and cathedral stand, the leading economic, administrative, port and power functions congregated. This was also true of the Islamic city where the great mosque once stood and for which the cathedral was its successor. This ensemble lorded over everything else, and it was a prominent highlight in contemporary depictions. Here, the leading urban markets also emerged. Within the central areas, there were three separate nuclei namely: Las Alcaicerias, the street of Las Gradas and the port at El Arenal (see Plate 2). The core was one of a series of the major discrete districts, which can be identified. It consisted of some 47 hectares and included the colaciones of Castellanos, Franca, Genova, Mar and the ancient Jewish quarter covering c.16 hectares. It was a zone of affluence and opulence. This extensive area housed many of the rich and it was the locus of high commerce, banking, civil and ecclesiastical administration. Here also were some of the most vital commercial streets, which included Las Gradas, Genoa and Sierpes whose importance increased during the century (see Figure 3.4). Around three sides of the cathedral and between the cathedral and El Arenal, most of the principal activities related to colonial and maritime commerce were located. The Casa Lonja for the merchants was erected in the 1590 and this majestic building served as a secular temple for commerce (see Figure 3.3). Within the northern sector were the colaciones of San Gil, San Marcos, Omnium Sanctorium and San Julian. This was a zone of minor commerce. It was mainly inhabited by artisans; many connected to farming also resided here. The more ‘maritime’ districts were sited in western and south-western sectors of Seville and included San Vicente, San Lorenzo and Santa María Madalena (see Figure 3.4). Here lived, what documents of the time aver to as, ‘sea people’, captains, caulkers, pilots, shipwrights and sailors. A testament to the incredible prosperity of Seville was a frenetic phase of religious house foundation: convent endowment was symptomatic of this vitality (Morales Padrón, 1989). Between the thirteenth and fifteenth centuries, 21 foundations were built; in the sixteenth century, the figure reached 29 and a further 20 were founded in the early seventeenth century (see Figure 3.4). In the late medieval period, further prosperity encouraged the formation of a number of extra mural suburbs. Triana was one of the earliest and most important as it was located at a bridgehead (see

Seville

Figure 3.4

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Religious institutions, gates and walls. Adapted from Guàrdia et al., 1994, p. 187, Figure 7

Figure 3.4). Two others, Carretería y Cestería, were sited beside the port. Additional expansion in the sixteenth century saw the Macarena district emerge in the north and to the west, San Roque (see Figure 3.4). The fringe of Seville began to take on a chaotic appearance form the early sixteenth century marked by the presence of both a diversity of functions and building types such as convents, bull rings and walkways, schools and a university and later factories so well depicted in Lopez’s 1778 map (see Plate 3). All of these functions spilt outside the walls; they could not be accommodated in

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

the cramped and crowded centre (Cortés José et al., 1992). There were 27 parishes in the city, each with its own church and two more were later added (see Figure 3.4). There were also two suburban parishes: San Juan de Acre belonged not unsurprisingly to a military order; the other, Marruecos, belonged to a bishop. The civil district organisation was broadly coincident with the ecclesiastical, although each had its own name. The streetscape of sixteenth-century Seville remained overwhelmingly Islamic in character (Montoto, 1940). There was a sharp divide between the busy centre and its thoroughfares; the rest consisted of the maze of an intricately engraved lattice of lanes and alleys, many of which were culde-sacs, stressing the clear contrasts between public and private life, still clearly evident on Lopez’s 1778 map (Cortés José et al., 1992). These one way lanes were known as adarves or barreras. Small squares offered some escape from the immediate household locale (Vioque Cubero et al., 1987). Streets were often named after their majority trades; some reflected the incidence of the foreign merchants such as the Genoese (Bóscolo, 1989). Others echoed the presence of inmigrant groups such as Gallegos (García Baquero González, 1986). Visitors agreed that most streets were both lively and sumptuous. While the Islamic-built inheritance was modified in various ways, sometimes by the creation of through streets only in the parishes of San Lorenzo and San Vicente, is there evidence of more expansive urban designing. Here in these parishes, more ordered urban planning is in evidence from the end of the sixteenth century (see Figure 3.5). Not all was well, however: the disposal of wastes remained a perennial difficulty, if we are to judge from the constant reports of outbreaks of cholera or malaria and even plague (Quirós Linares, 1975). No doubt, the port activities too helped to attract many unwanted maladies and played a part in the diffusion of some of the great plagues that struck Seville, such as that of 1649 (Domínguez Ortiz, 1984).

Residence Housing is perhaps a banal term to employ in relation to residential characterisation in sixteenthcentury Seville. It certainly was a discriminating reflection of well-being. In a city of such vanity, vitality and wealth, some residences were stunning. Given even today’s emphasis by Spaniards on lush interiors, early travellers to Andalusia insist that matters then were similar. Spaniards cite the assimilation of Moorish culture as both an explanation and defence of this habit and the flowering of Mudéjar architecture and art as its catalyst. There were essentially the magnificent residences of the well-heeled, some of which were of palatial proportions, the yard [corral] focused multiresidence which were often the homes of artisans and, finally, there were dwellings of the excluded, the immigrants and the poor (Ladero Quesada, 1989). Primarily, Seville was a city experiencing explosive growth and expansion in turn provoking its own dilemmas. It is no wonder that in the town ordenanzas there was a series of regulations relating to the height, the roofing style and the position of houses on streets. Frequent inspections were made to ensure that these laws were being adhered to and upheld by the residents. Indeed, records of annual house completions for some years are available. Within today’s casco histórico [urban core], the Islamic endowment is especially evident in many of the places of public congregation, namely the plazas (Pérez Embid, 1968). It was in these kinds of locales that most of the street markets were found sharing space with some of the leading retail and wholesale outlets (see Figure 3.4). Perceptions can often be deceptive. One the most intractable difficulties faced by the authorities at Seville were those relating to humidity and dampness rather than a surfeit of sunlight. Frequent floods, a high water table and lack of light, in one of the sunniest places in Europe all contributed to a recurring predicament. The architectural traditions of the former Arab, Asian and North African residents of Seville demanded high houses and tortuous streets. This was not the perfect fit for

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Figure 3.5

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Street layouts in the parishes of San Lorenzo and San Vicente. Adapted from Guàrdia et al., 1994, p. 190, Figure 16

Seville’s site. Many houses were low and two stories were rarely exceeded. The provision of clean water was a perennial problem. Larger multi-residential single-entry patio residences were a clear legacy of the past and a clever solution to an ever-expanding population. They provided excellent security and, in keeping with the mores of their inhabitants, many were still evident in the Judería and where the remaining morescos resided. The average number of families living in these units was ten. One contemporary count of these types of accommodation indicates some 12,000 odd units in some 300 streets (Montoto, 1940). In addition, there were some 200 convents and palaces (see Figure 3.4). Singlestoried houses were the insignia of the more humble. The vitality of the early urban post-1500 Discovery economy is testified to by the construction, or reconstruction, of many vital public buildings to house some critical institutions. Here can be included the Alhóndiga, Lonja de Genoveses, the principal Alcaicería and Las Atarazanas (Otte, 1978). Buoyant economic times in the late fourteenth century are also confirmed by the erection of

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

palaces, such as the Palacio de Las Dueñas, the refurbishment of bath-houses, the Alcázar Real, the Adelantado Mayor and the Casa de Pilatos. Parts of the outskirts of Islamic Seville were breathtaking in their splendour, although locally some were marred by the presence of noxious activities such as dye and tanning works (Glick, 1979). The site of today’s magnificent Santa Justa railway station was then the chief zone for lime burning within a large unenclosed commonage. In Golden Age Seville, conditions were no different; parts of the outskirts were a showcase of gardens, palaces, monasteries, convents, estates and vegas [water meadows] – irrigated huertas [vegetable gardens] – fruit, vegetable and vine producing gardens even meadows and tillage lands. Here, too, interspersed with all the affluence were islands of poverty, where recently arrived migrants and the dispossessed resided. The marginalised, the suspect and the poor all had their cemeteries here. Immediately outside the wall was a series of inner suburbs. El Arenal, the port, extended across the river by means of a pontoon. Two docks were sited here: El Muelle de las Mulas and El Muelle de Camaroneros. Behind it, there were many shops and warehouses, where goods were stored for sale or for embarkation for redistribution. Near them were other mobile stands where various goods were sold. Finally, there were a handful of larger buildings, such as the Atarazanas, the warehouses of the Casa de Contratación and a major fish market. El Arenal was a place of feverish artesanal and commercial activity; it was also a zone for relaxation and conviviality by day (see Plate 2). By night, it was a zone of menace and fear. Beside it, two distinctive areas developed: Carretería and Cestería. In the former, coopering was the primary activity, while rope production was the dominant activity in the latter. North of these areas was the district of Los Humeros, where fish curing using smoke was conducted. Behind this barrio, inside the walls, were two other parishes, Santa Madalena and San Vicente, where most of the residents had maritime related occupations. The often-strict layout of residential blocks and streets within the latter parish suggests some degree of late sixteenth century formal planning, though on a smaller scale, than Lisbon’s Barrio Alto (see Figure 3.4). Triana, across the river, from the historic core of the city, effectively began its life as a suburb, but by the end of the century it had been incorporated into the urban core (see Figure 3.3). Triana was the link between the city and the bountiful El Aljarafe. Its strategic importance was recognised by the rebuilding of the Arab-founded Castillo de San Jorge, which later became the headquarters of the personnel of the Inquisition. Some 25 hectares in extent, counting a population in 1587 of some 4,000 households, Triana later came to be the material expression of Seville as a successful and vital entrepôt. Here were all the trappings of contact with the colonies and all the paraphernalia of ships, shipping, sailors, trade, merchandise and warehouses. These maritime characteristics were reinforced by the fact that a significant majority of its residents were people of the sea; sailors, captains, pilots, ordinary seamen, no doubt originating in all parts of the peninsula, its islands and beyond. To serve them the Universidad de Navegadores was built and it obtained royal confirmation in 1569. Beside Triana, there were two arsenals, those of de Las Muelas and Remédios. Most of the local boat construction involved river craft and fishing boats for river and sea. Boats built in Andalusia acquired such a poor reputation that in 1593, vessels built there were excluded by decree from the Indies register (Araújo, 1992).

Society, class and ethnic diversity The buildings modified or erected during Seville’s Golden Age are robust testament to a city awash with wealth to which only a privileged few had access. It was also a city full of women given the

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constant haemorrhage of menfolk abroad (Navagero, 1965). Beggars, the destitute and slaves made up a substantial tranche of the population. It was a city thronged with servants and opportunists of all kinds, which provided much inspiration for one resident – Miguel de Cervantes. Seville was also perceived as an honoured place for retirement and individuals such as Colón and Cortés built palaces for their final years. The port city was a magnet for a host of individuals who effectively lived off the achievements of others. Senior clergy and nobles formed the acme of the elite in a society organised in a pyramidal fashion. This minute group was much smaller than in other parts of Spain, heterogeneous at least in relation to origin. Viewed from elsewhere, it was extremely homogeneous. The noble element consisted of a handful of old families, such as the Count of Medinaceli and the Duke of Medina Sidonia and they, with others, acted as a controlling patriarchate on the urban council. There were also more recently created knights, members of the military orders and gentlemen. Obliged to maintain an urban residence, this select group invested their fortunes in rural property whose rents supported their lavish lifestyles. Contemporary chronicles do not concur that many of these nobles became deeply involved in commerce. The one secure fact is the number of powerful, titled people in Seville and in most of lower Andalusia was minute, quite unlike conditions in the north of the peninsula (Bennassar, 1983). Their proportion remained largely unchanged over centuries despite the ceaseless arrival of thousands from the more ennobled parts of the country. In this way, there were a few extraordinarily significant noble houses, of which the Dukes of Medina Sidonia were outstanding and typical. This ‘clan’ is first recognisable as being one of ‘gentlemen’ at Sanlúcar de la Barrameda in the fourteenth century. Before the century had commenced, these nobles were already ensconced, occupying all the essential positions in the urban administration. The ordering of the municipal welcoming party in 1526 for the visit of Charles V has been skilfully mentioned by Domínguez Ortiz (1946a) as a palimpsest for social stratification at that time. The clergy were a numerous and very influential group, of whom many priests of various grades were active in Seville’s enormous cathedral. Initially, most of the clergy came from the artesanal class. As affluence became more widespread, priests later in the century tended to be drawn more from the educated, noble and trading families. The presence of a massive cathedral, said then to vie in size and majesty with Rome, and pre-Reformation St Paul’s in London and an extensive archbishop’s palace acted like a magnet drawing many priests to its environs. There was also a host of monasteries and convents; at mid-century the estimated number was just under 40, equally divided between the genders. Many of these were recently founded and paid for by extravagant donations from the merchants, making the church a major urban landholder (see Figure 3.4). Nevertheless, it was more than this; some orders and secular priests were deeply involved in speculative colonial ventures. Even more noteworthy was the use of part of the cathedral as a merchant exchange. This was a development, more encouraged than frowned upon, by the religious authorities (Araújo, 1992). At the cusp of the clergy were only a few score religious; the religious body politic was even more regimented than its secular counterpart. Most of the merchants were not fabulously wealthy individuals; quite the contrary, many were minor actors often combining commercial activity with artisanal work. Similar conditions prevailed at Cádiz two centuries later. This kind of relationship provides a key insight into the origin of this frequently misunderstood group –– class as a term we know today could in no way be employed as a categorisation. Initially, many merchants rose from artesanal backgrounds (Moret, 1967). For these reasons, the division between the bottom of this group and the artisans was extremely blurred. Here was a multitude of activists; there were major shippers, factors, agents and speculators who simply proffered capital.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

As a group, the indigenous merchants must have been least representative of Sevillian life, as they came from every corner of the peninsula. The Basques were the most compact and salient group of peninsular merchants at Seville and many were involved in the hardware and metal implements trades. There were also wool merchants from Burgos, wholesalers from Castile and suppliers from Barcelona. It was the foreign merchants who played a most determining and influential role. The Italians were the most numerous and wealthiest of the outsiders (Pike, 1966). They came mainly from Florence, Genoa and Milan and most were implicated in banking and finance (Otte, 1986). There were also Breton, English, French, Flemish, German and Portuguese merchants, many of whom settled with their families. Most lived in the heart of the city in the parishes of Santa María, Santa Cruz, San Salvador and Santa María la Blanca. Conditions in eighteenth-century Cádiz reveal a different and an even more complex pecking order of merchants (see, pp. 108–10). Those who owned some of the great ships, their masters and bosuns mainly lived on Calle de la Mar, or in La Carretería, Cestería and Triana (see Figure 3.3). Some moved frequently to and from the New World, while others sent family representatives or hired factors, and some even used the good offices of servants or slaves. Of all the outsiders, it was the Genoese that came to play an outstanding role at Seville (Pike, 1966). In all, there were about 40 key people. Some of them were hispanisised within a generation; others maintained their overseas connections and traditions. Some members of these northern Italian communities were to play an instrumental role in the financing of both the colonisation and economic development of the Canary Islands (Morales Padrón, 1970). These Genoese merchants were at the heart of the Carrera de Indias in that they put up finance for many sailings, they handled especially the import of grain and clothes and they were central players in the export of goods to northern Europe. The movement of slaves also occupied their business dealings. Locating their personal factors abroad, they invested especially in the growing and production of sugar. One authority asserts that at mid-century there were some 250 Genoese working in some dozen commercial houses. Many lived on streets named after their home city. They even launched their own commercial consulate at Seville. Flemish and Portuguese merchants constituted two major elements in the mercantile composition of the city. By mid-century, the Flemish had become so influential that they effectively displaced the Genoese as the premier merchant caste. They had arrived as minor players half a century earlier. Many of them originated in Bruges and were essentially implicated in inter-European commerce. They were involved initially for commercial houses as agents in the trade of Andalusian primary products and wine to northern Europe and they imported cloths and linens from their region of origin. By mid-century, Flemish merchants had extended their operations to many parts of Europe and had, by then, become deeply engaged in the American commercial enterprise. Many came as a consequence of the decline of Antwerp. By the end of the century, an astonishing 200-plus Flemish trading houses were active at Seville. While the union of Portugal with Castile may have been a political disaster for the Portuguese national confidence, it offered tempting opportunities to the Portuguese merchants already settled at Seville. They imported huge quantities of spices from the existing supply zones and especially from Lisbon and re-exported them from Seville throughout the peninsula and Europe. Slaving was, however, their most important and profitable activity. Portuguese merchants obtained a contract [asiento] to supply Spanish needs from their vast reservoirs of Africa (Cortés Alonso, 1963). Most of this inter-metropolitan trade was accomplished by sea. The French also formed other, though more minuscule clusters (Girard, 1932). Initially, some were involved in printing and publishing; subsequently, others participated in overseas trade. Confirmation of these activities is corroborated by the foundation in 1578 of a French trading consulate in the city. Even within the upper echelons of the merchant group, there were clear fault lines, based as much on their specialised functions as on their wealth and prestige. For example,

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comerciantes grossistas traded only by cash. They were the Cargadores de Las Indias whose title is self-explanatory, the almenistas who supplied the former elements, the correctores who were commercial agents of the specialised trading houses of which the cosecheros, for instance, sold grains forward. Over time, these commercial categories assumed different hues of meaning. At present, there are deeply conflicting explanations relating to the origins, evolution and composition of the indigenous merchant elite at Seville. One authority has asserted that the upper nobility actually supplied many of the superior ranks of the merchants (Pike, 1972). Others argue that it was more a case of upward mobility of artisans and traders (Domínguez Ortiz, 1984). The nobility often intermarried with the most successful merchant families; it was never the case that the nobles became burgesised (García Baquero González, 1992). Besides supporting many artists and architects, the super rich donated vast amounts of capital to charitable causes. This outbreak of philanthropy resulted in a rash of church and convent building and refurbishment (see Figure 3.4). At the cusp of the merchant group were a few dozen families who had enormous wealth and political influence, in some instances superior even to that of the nobles. In their lifestyles, they aped the nobles, especially by their erection of ostentatious houses packed with fustian furniture and ornaments. They invested heavily in rural and urban properties. One well-known instance throws some light on this namely the Jorje ‘clan’ (Araújo, 1992). A massive 70 per cent of their assets of c.465, 000 ducados was invested in trade, 17 per cent in property, 11 per cent in public debt and the rest in jewellery and slaves. One of the great endowments of the Islamic civilisation to the vibrant urban centres of Al Andalus was the tradition of artisanship with, for instance, consummate goldsmiths, silversmith and silk weavers (Morrel Pegyero, 1986). Each guild produced primarily for the city; what remained went elsewhere on the peninsula or overseas. Each craft was wrapped up in guilds and hermandades [brotherhoods]. All the crafts were formally organised from the most basic, such as the tanners, to the exceptionally skilled, and each one had its own ordenanzas confirmed by the city council. These artesanal guilds were the engines of the city, yet they did not wield commensurate political clout. Spatially, each craft was often confined to one or several streets. They were more than basic guilds advancing and defending the economic interests of their members; they also had charitable, cultural and religious functions. Indeed, many of the popular cultural rituals of contemporary Seville have their origins in these organisations. Many guilds maintained churches and sanctuaries; they even had hospitals and other caring institutions erected in their quarters. Each guild was an acutely structured entity with punctilious rites of upward passage. Some guilds could tally thousands of members in contrast to the minute size of each independent unit whose average complement was five individuals. The artisans were an exposed group. Their social status was inferior except for the master-craftspeople; their savings and capital were sometimes insecurely positioned. Most were slave-owners, many owned land, or crops, others speculated in Indian trade, yet, in time of uncertainty, they were the first to be squeezed. In all, the artisans represented the largest group in the city’s active population; they remain the least understood. With so many merchants and the coffers of the Cabildo awash with cash, there was a brief but intense period of feverish consumer spending. It resulted in the hiring of some of the nation’s leading artists and craftspeople. An economic outcome of the arrival of this wave of transitory residents was the opening of many rest houses and inns where they sought accommodation. However, insolvency, bankruptcy, fraud or shipwreck often stalked the commercial landscape. Sevillians, who usually put up the money or took responsibility for credit, often over-relied on the administrative and banking expertise of the Italians. A local writer, Mateo Alemán, presciently presaged that it was unwise for merchants to trust their funds to third parties. One of the Espinosa’s enterprises failed and left 320,000 ducados of debt. With so much finance invested in trade

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and always with some possibilities of failure, Sevillian commercial culture was represented by the activities of its major bankers and merchants. It was characterised by extreme fragility and uncertainty. The products of the university formed another important, if minute, group. Few could claim to be wealthy; they were the touchstone of the city’s culture and formed a model class of citizen whom many aspired to emulate. Here were the medical and legal professions, the university fellows, the university-trained corps of municipal officials and an army of scribes who formed the undercarriage of this respected class. These were the educated classes upon whom the city depended for its efficient administration. Their salaries were modest and their prestige likewise. Even the medical profession enjoyed only inconsequential recognition. The foundation of the ‘university’ was itself a crucial event in that it provided educated cadres, especially for urban administration, the law, for medicine and the arts, not to mention philosophy and religion. A custom-designed building was erected at the Puerta de Jerez and the first tranche of students entered in 1515, the year in which the institution officially began its work (Falcón et al., 1986). Maritime interests developed their own training college at Triana, calling it a university for sailors and pilots, which succeeded an even older institution. The emphasis was always placed on practical training of the skilled elements of the crew; little attention was given to the formation of ordinary seafarers. The result was that many incompetent people acted as crew. This foundation had a further expression, it was also a distinctive religious cofradía [confraternity]. It had different sections for its varied membership such as caukers and shipwrights; it even boasted of its own hospital and church. Effectively, it was a seafarers’ guild and a pressure group whose interests increasingly clashed with other state-sponsored bodies at Seville. Most of the indigenously inspired foundations were located in the zones where most of the sea people resided, namely in Triana, La Carretería, Humores, La Magdalena and San Vicente. The owners of the magnificent naos were invariably not ‘sea people’, though the vast majority of retired masters became owners in their own right. In such a social and cultural maelstrom, there were thousands of footloose people. Many joined this mass of misery because of contemporary cultural hostility, political anxieties and simple envy and jealousy. Thus, it was not just the poor who were excluded. There were degrees of ostracisation and the law was not always implemented to the letter. A tiny moresco residue was an inward looking and highly insecure element. Holding mostly humble positions, many lived in the ancient centrally located Morería. A census conducted in 1500 confirmed the presence of less than 200 morescos. An influx of refugees from Granada later in the century swelled their numbers and of the estimated 7,000 individuals, the biggest concentration resided in Triana. They were subject to both official and popular discrimination, totally out of proportion to any conceivable threat they could have posed. Many were even slaves and the rump was expelled from Seville in the early years of the 1700s without any major economic reverberations. There were other minorities. The so-called judío-conversos were another circumscribed group. Here a combination of street laws, the Inquisition and popular envy often made their lives and livelihoods, difficult, if not, intolerable. Many, contrary to received wisdom, survived, thrived and held critical positions of responsibility. Others were deliberately shielded by some noble houses, such as the Dukes of Medina Sidonia, from the vengeful laws of the Inquisition. The crown often sought a political compromise when they were hounded by ultra conservatives: it accepted their donations of wealth in return for their liberties and possessions. Beggars and slaves there were too a-plenty. Each time there was a natural disaster in Andalusia – of which the chronicles provide many examples; there was another inundation of human flotsam driven into Seville by a tide of misery (Araújo, 1992). Nevertheless, mendacity then did not altogether have today’s reputation. Begging was a better way to secure survival for a populace not

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inured to manual labour. In addition, philanthropy was an avenue for the wealthy to earn points to secure their upward mobility in the estimation of a credulous populace. However, Seville was Spain’s own El Dorado for those who were destitute and this image had a resonance for the needy throughout the peninsula. What is clear is that the yawning gap between the ostentatious wealth of the few and the abject poverty of the many was a deeply ingrained fact-of-life. Given that diseases were cutting back the indigenous population in colonial areas, slaves filled the widening gap and the huge labour shortages (Bennassar, 1983). Slaves there were too in their thousands; estimates of their numbers vary from one-sixth of the total population to a mere 6 per cent (Franco Silva, 1979). In terms of their origins, this group must have been the most heterogeneous in the city (Pike, 1972). There were Arabs, Berbers and Guanches from the Canary Islands, Turks, Africans of all kinds especially from the west coast, moriscos and black slaves coming to Europe, from both the Caribbean and Ibero-America (Gestoso y Pérez, 1910). This rollcall is by no means conclusive. What did they do? Sold at auction in Las Gradas, they were first and foremost domestic servants or cooks and many had pluriactive existences where they worked in craft production. They often became part of the household furniture and their titular owners, when close to death, paid for their freedom (Cortés Alonso, 1963). Seville was transformed during the Golden Age. Its population at least quadrupled and the built-up area inside and outside its walls also massively expanded. The reconstitution of Seville from an Islamic port into a mainly transatlantic port city was a painful and tortuous process. Its new masters never devised a citywide plan; what happened was a reaction to events and new opportunities. Although the city fathers formulated detailed ordenanzas, they were in themselves inadequate to deal with the implications of explosive growth. Efforts were made to open the city to the sun by removing overhanging balconies and by widening and straightening the streets to accommodate wheeled transport. In the end, only piecemeal modifications transpired. True renaissance ideals were incorporated in many new public buildings, which were often monumental in scale. Seville remained a smothered city circumscribed by its river and walls (Vioque Cubero et al., 1987). Many houses, too, were sealed off from the outside world, its streetscapes were irregular and blocks of houses were rarely in line. Not unusually for a city experiencing explosive growth, the inadequacies of the Cabildo were harshly exposed. Infrastructure was spectacularly deficient and the port was the epitome of these inadequacies. There was no stone or all-weather bridge, there were scarcely any quays and movement within the city was arduous because of the high density of traffic on its narrow tortuous streets. However, there were many innovations and initiatives that helped Seville to hold on to its leading position. It had a powerful city council [Cabildo], and a well-organised judicial system expressed in its Palacio de Justicia; its economic organs were novel and powerful such as its Casa de Contratación, its Alfandega [customs house], its Casa Lonja and its Casa de Moneda. It boasted also of many specialised colleges, a university and other training institutes, a medley of convents and monasteries; its charitable foundations included hospitals, and schools and leisure opportunities were afforded by bull rings and theatres. Many of these are depicted on López’s excellent 1778 map (Cortés José et al., 1992; see also Plate 3).

Population change: Barometer of vitality How did all these transformations reflect or translate into population figures? Without delving into the eccentricities of the several censuses conducted in the sixteenth century, it is clear that over the century the total urban population trebled, or even quadrupled. This happened against a phase of spectacular peninsular urbanisation in Phillip II’s reign. In the early 1530s, 35,000 seems a good

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estimate, by the turn of the century over 120,000 has been mooted, while others cite a figure of 150,000 (Araújo, 1992). Seville’s population was only a third of Lisbon’s at the start of the century. Given the dramatic growth in both centres, Seville’s tally exceeded Lisbon’s in the early decades of the next century. The dramatic ascent of the city’s population started in the 1540s and continued unabated for at least four decades (García Baquero González, 1986). Stability was evident for the final decades of the century and the plague of the last year of the last decade marked the debut of an era of population decline. Bennassar has labelled the outbreak as la peste Atlántica, as its effects were also very severe in many parts of Atlantic Europe, especially in Galicia, Portugal and Atlantic Andalusia (Bennassar, 1983). This pestilence seems to have been a dual outbreak of bubonic plaque and typhus, which was most active between 1599 and 1601. The expulsion of 7,500 moriscos shortly afterwards marked a dip in Seville’s population for the first time in more than a century. The population began to decline, in spite of high rates of fertility and continued inmigration. Emigration was also a constant during the Golden Age (Morales Padrón, 1989). Thousands attracted by the promise of easy money, commercial success and upward mobility flowed into the port city. For many this illusion quickly shattered and the New World became their only recourse for worldly salvation. In the end, there was little hope for the unskilled of permanent employment in a city where slaves conducted most of the menial work, and commerce was largely in the hands of foreign merchants. Indeed, under-employment was as severe a scourge, as unemployment and the rhythms of the fleet determined when work was available. In the second decade of the seventeenth century and for more than a century afterwards, there are many municipal reports of abandoned houses in very poor repair (Domínguez Ortiz, 1984). The dreadful plague of 1649 was another turning point. It ravaged the city and Andalusia for four months of that year, and was again a simultaneous outbreak of bubonic plague and typhus. Wildly exaggerated claims were made in relation to the scale of the disaster. Fatalities of 150,000 or more have been mentioned, a figure that exceeds the population of the city at that time. Best estimates of losses are for a total of c.60,000, but even that seems wildly inflated (Domínguez Ortiz, 1984). This was a blow from which Seville’s population took more than century to recover. The poor suffered incalculably and some residential districts were almost wiped out. The epidemic particularly assailed the worse off, but even the wealthier sections of society lost many family members. Nearly all the members of El Consulado survived; they, like other well-to-do people, were able to flee to their rural properties to escape the ravages of the pestilence. Thousands of bodies had to be burned and buried in open graves outside the walls. Humanity’s incredible ability to recover from adversity is revealed by the 1,500 marriages confirmed within a space of 90 days in the city’s parishes after the abatement of the epidemic. Inmigration accelerated and, in 1665, 62 per cent of those registered as guild members working in the city had been born outside it. Of these, 40 per cent originated in Andalusia, a further 32 per cent in other parts of Spain and virtually all the remainder had to be foreigners (Bernal et al., 1978). It was not simply a straightforward story of recuperation. Incessant levies of able-bodied men for the defence forces constantly blunted growth. To finish on demographic change, Seville’s nadir was in the immediate aftermath of the 1649 plague when the population was halved to 65,000 from its earlier crest. Shortly after that, it rose to some 85,000, a threshold that remained intact for more than 200 years. Seville nevertheless remained number two or three in Spain’s urban hierarchy until the early 1800s, when a petulant Barcelona overtook it. It had lost its primacy more than a century and a half earlier to Madrid, to be precise from the early 1600s onwards.

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Seville’s decline Nevertheless, Seville and the lower Guadalquivir was a kind of island on the peninsula that remained woefully connected with other centres. Some lines from Lope de Vega (quoted in Domínguez Ortiz, 1984, p. 121) confirm this sorry state of affairs: Si quereis de Seville ir a la Corte ya sabeis que ocho dias son bastante ...

Overland, then, eight days had to be set aside to reach Madrid. In this way, the vitality of the city owed little or nothing to its sister cities on the peninsula, beyond the Guadalquivir valley. Travellers also ceaselessly mention the appalling state of the roads and their lack of maintenance. The state was always anxious to cream off whatever it could in the form of customs duties on incoming merchandise and treasure. No sustained attempt was made to invest any of these returns in the infrastructure of Seville; the crown did not support the promotion of a stable banking system for the city and its traders. Neither was it interested in pumping money into expanding manufacturing activity. The monarchy and the state lacked a long-term vision and thus when leaner times came in the seventeenth century, the city and its institutions had great difficulty in adapting to changed circumstances. To avoid the greedy depredations of the state, many wealthy merchants invested their fortunes in property and rural land to conceal their well-being. Their self-perception was grounded primarily in the belief that, if they invested the money in productive activities, the state would steal it. The results of these actions were to ruralise mobile wealth and the commercial orientation of the city. Trading with the New World increasingly became a multi-state and multinational operation. Seville could have become the hub of these operations (Walker, 1979). It failed. Fleets left the city with increasing irregularity throughout the century (see Figure 3.6). Lapses of up to three years became common. During those times, much of the support paraphernalia lay dormant. The shipyards and the sail makers were idle. Long periods of inactivity were punctuated by much shorter phases of frenetic production. The consequences of these vicissitudes were that investment in production for the Carrera was unprofitable. Biscuit making ovens simply lay idle for too long and there was no incentive for those with cash surpluses to invest in production. These uncertain conditions help explain why many traditional activities remained minuscule in size, pre-capitalist in organisation and minifundist in outlook and structure. Artesanal activities remained the cornerstone of productive activity. Shipbuilding carried on, but physical geography dictated that boats larger than 500 tons could not be built at Triana. Poor and deficient wood supply meant that quality was a problem (Goodman, 1997). A 1593 royal decree prohibited boats constructed there to participate in the Carrera (Domínguez Ortiz, 1984). By the middle of the seventeenth century, few skilled artisans lived there. Small-scale cannon and gunpowder production lingered on to the end of the century. True, at the end of the century some of the incoming cargoes of treasure were as copious as those of some of the best times of Philip II. By then, most were landed at Cádiz. Much of what reached Seville left as quickly as it came. Tobacco, a long-term and absolute state monopoly, prospered when an enormous factory was constructed in the eighteenth century, which was later to be converted into Seville’s university. The other traditional activities already noted lingered on, but most declined. In the end, it was the bullion trade’s nemesis that carried the gravest consequences for the city, for Andalusia and for Spain (Hamilton, 1934; Vilar, 1978). The major merchants moved off to the Bahía de Cádiz. Although prices from many incoming commodities rose, this did not assist the Sevillian economy, as outgoing goods were increasingly sourced elsewhere and often

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Figure 3.6

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Vessel movements from Seville, 1600–1720. Adapted from Chaunu, 1955–60

from outside the peninsula. The result was a further blow for Seville’s nascent production sector. Despite all these reverses, Seville remained an essential centre for the redistribution of colonial goods throughout the peninsula. The tail end of Seville’s ‘Golden Age’ lingered on into the early decades of the seventeenth century; there were ominous signs for the future. Population numbers began to decline, bullion imports diminished, the port could not handle large ships chiefly due to lack of maintenance and, in the end, Cádiz in 1717 formally assumed the monopoly and all it entailed. This era of difficulty extended until well into the 1730s (Domínguez Ortiz, 1984). Visitors concur that an increase in residential dereliction was a feature of a stagnant settlement. As no overall plan of seventeenthcentury vintage has survived, it is difficult to make generalisations about Seville’s vitality. Municipal surveys for the period confirm that many residences were empty and these conditions were especially a feature of Triana, which was the traditional home of Seville’s ‘sea people’. By 1700, Seville had lost at least a third of her population and had fallen into the second division of European cities. At the end of the century, its port could only claim sixth position. What hastened the painful and relentless decline of Seville during the seventeenth century? All records for bullion imports were broken in 1608. After that date, decline was episodic; after 1622, it was inexorable. Effectively, the decay of Seville was a product of a complex variety of causes (García Fuentes, 1980). Monopoly regulations smothered initiative and probably arrested the growth of urban financial infrastructures. State fiscal exactions on commerce facilitated the operation of a kind of official kleptocracy, always eager to empty the pockets of the merchants.

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Seville’s merchants attempted to manipulate the prices of their exports to the Americas, thus prompting the colonist to produce what they needed themselves with all its implications. The disinclination of Sevillian merchants to invest in manufacturing and production also weakened the urban economy (García Fuentes, 1980). The ascendant military power of Spain’s rivals was another incapacitating influence as was the gradual desiccation of bullion imports. In addition, the rivalry between Seville and Cádiz relating to the choice of monopoly port also weakened Seville’s cause (Girard, 1932; Ravina, 1984). A recent assessment of critical research has confirmed the rhythms and the scale of the fall-off of bullion imports (García Baquero González, 1986). The leading features of the decline include a very pronounced early decline up to1639, another marked drop extending from 1645 until 1660, followed by a brief platform, with additional declines reaching a nadir in 1709. Overall, decline was irreversible, and these trends are broadly confirmed by data relating to tonnage and shipping (see Figure 3.6). The relationships between tonnages and the number of ships require careful qualification (Morineau, 1978). Over the period in question, exports going westwards slightly increased, but most, especially the textiles were re-exports, which seems to highlight further economic decline on the peninsula (García Fuentes, 1980). Between 1778 and 1796, the percentage of Andalusian exports leaving Seville for the Americas rarely exceeded 2 per cent. Demographic change, too, over the seventeenth century had few positive characteristics (Alvarez Santalló, 1983). However, the 1649 crisis made what was bad infinitely worse and its outcome made recovery even more difficult. Artesanal activities at Seville represent another vital barometer of the vitality of the urban economy. Analysis of their activities shows that the members of the guilds involved in production all experienced a steady decline in the same period (Bernal et al., 1978). Over the same period, agricultural exports to the Americas also dropped, as did the proportion of these exports being shipped out on the Carrera (Ponsot, 1986). Seville itself was left in a kind of suspended animation; most local surveys aver to many houses being abandoned and parish data suggest that many commercial and residential properties were derelict (Alvarez Santalló, 1983). In summary, Seville was the main loser and its immediate hinterland also experienced a big hit. Without a doubt, the loss of metropole status was an official acknowledgement of Seville’s decay as an Atlantic entrepôt.

Seville stagnates By the early 1680s, Cádiz had assumed the role of de facto hub for the Carrera, by 1717 it was de jure when the Casa de Contratación was transferred (Galbis Díez, 1980). This relocation happened at a time when the Americas again came to occupy centre stage in the plans of the new administration. New policies to regulate commercial relations between the metropole and its overseas possessions were devised within an extensive portfolio of plans now known as reformismo borbónico. The rationale behind them was to secure a favourable balance of trade for the metropole and to exclude foreigners from a new wave of lucrative trade. Cádiz was now the designated peninsular hub for these exchanges; Seville had to carve out a new career. With a stationary population of c.85,000 recorded throughout most of the century resident in some 501 blocks and 11,168 houses in 1778, space was still plentiful within the walls of the city for additional development (see Plate 3). House totals may well be an underestimate, as many were patio-focused multi-family residences. Certain districts were reformed: the red light district, La Laguna, was subject to a major and successful modification. It was the exception rather than the rule. The perennial problems that afflicted the city remained unresolved. There were still water shortages, as there was no effective means of consistently supplying what was required. Also,

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running water in domestic residences was the exception rather than the rule. Consequently, public hygiene remained seriously deficient. Outbreaks of cholera and yellow fever continued. Flooding also was a constant threat and five disasters occurred during the century. The poor repair of the walls no doubt contributed to the troubles of the city fathers, who did not have the monetary resources to repair them, and they were obliged to petition Madrid for emergency aid. The great earthquake of 1755 had a devastating effect on the poorer quarters of the city and it has been confirmed that a sixth of the built-up area was levelled (Cortés José et al., 1992). The eighteenth century was not all doom and gloom. A number of new institutions, as noted, were established in colossal custom-made buildings and these departures included the Palacio de San Telmo (1728–34), which served as a school for pilots and master mariners, the famous tobacco factory, now the university (1728–58), the magnificent bull ring (1760) and the barracks at Puerta de la Carne (1776). All were located outside the walls, some only just. Still, by the end of the century, Seville remained in essence a medieval settlement, strikingly exemplified by very few, but excellent, plans (Cortés José et al., 1992). López’s magnificent plan (see Plate 3) depicts a city characterised by narrow tortuous streets and lanes, with few extensive open spaces and squares and without proper paving, lighting or water supply and no proper quays. The erection of the bull ring beside the river at El Arenal, an area that formerly acted as the hub of maritime activity, tells its own story. There were outstanding successes. The attractive and extensive tobacco factory with its 4,000 operatives and its impressive custom-built headquarters was completed in 1758. It is now the chief university. Gunpowder and armaments, especially artillery, were also produced in purposebuilt centres – the Real Fábrica de Salitre (1760), Real Almacén de Maderas, Real Fundición de Artillería (1760) and a new mint (1790). They were all state owned and managed. Otherwise, dispersed small-scale artesanal units continued in production much as they had for centuries and their markets were limited to the city and its extensive hinterland López’s plan for 1778, for instance, confirms that the wall still suffocated the city and that the only extensive extra-mural extension was around Triana (see Plate 3). This map is essentially the earliest accurate and detailed representation of the city (Cortés José et al., 1992).The fact that newcomer Madrid was precisely mapped almost two centuries earlier may say something about state priorities. Continuity is further confirmed by the fact that agriculture is represented as the main land use outside the walls. The old suburbs of Humeros, Macarena, and San Roqué, amongst others, showed no signs of growth. Another measure of continuity and stability was evidenced by the inertia of the commercial centre, which still clung to the zone around the cathedral, Las Gradas and Calle Geneva. In 1650 and in 1750, Seville’s population was some 65,000 souls. Between those years, however, there were dramatic changes. In 1705, it had climbed to 85,000, but wars and epidemics especially that of 1709, honed the demographic curve downwards. From the 1750s onwards, even despite the earthquake, growth recovered. In 1786, the population recorded in the census was almost 76,000, of whom 35,474 were considered active (Floridablanca, 1787). Of that number, 4,000 were returned as beggars and a similar tally as ‘sick’. Together they equalled the total number of artisans. Some 18,387 women were enumerated as ‘sin destino fijo’; this may mean that they were not regarded as economically productive. There were also some 1,840 ‘comerciantes’; however, the numbers employed in maritime related activities were low. Nearly 10 per cent of the recorded population were religious, distributed between 327 different foundations. At the start of the eighteenth century, some 15,000 foreigners were registered as residents – this figure must be way over the top (Aguilar Piñal, 1989). By mid-century, acknowledging new commercial realities, the number had fallen substantially. Some 4,000 French residents made up the largest non-native group. Economic stagnation essentially was the key characteristic of most of the eighteenth century (Alvarez Santalló, 1983).

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The fact that there was another nineteenth-century major epidemic of yellow fever illustrates that the city authorities had again failed to address the terrible inadequacies in sanitation. The census figures quoted above acknowledge that there was an immense mass of people especially vulnerable to illness. It has been confirmed that c.15,000 people lost their lives in that epidemic alone and this total fails to cover those who fled outside the city and died. In the 1820 census, some 75,000 souls were recorded, despite the losses of the Napoleonic wars and the harvest of yet another epidemic in 1819 (Aguilar Piñal, 1989, p. 112). The marvel is that natural change remained positive at all and the only explanation is that waves of inmigration more than balanced the losses.

Seville in a post-metropole economy Popular perception in Seville still regards the transfer of El Monopolio and its institutions to Cádiz in 1717 as the culprit for the city’s calamitous commercial decline. Realistically, this relocation transpired as an acknowledgement that times had changed to favour an outport, despite its woeful lack of security (Cámara Muñoz, 1998). It was recognition of a movement that had in fact already occurred to facilitate larger ships. The port of Seville remained active although movements were much reduced. In 1780, 15 per cent of all boats docking at Ostend came from Seville. On 1 September 1792, there were 43 ships docked at Seville according to the Diario de Sevilla of that year. Twenty-two of these were Spanish, seven Portuguese, six Dutch, five English and there were three from Scandinavia. Goods carried out by ships from the port of Seville now were mainly destined for ports throughout northern Atlantic Europe and cargoes were usually raw materials from its hinterland. There was no more bullion arriving after the 1717 transfer of El Monopolio to Cádiz; spices and slaves were also commodities of the past. Some colonial goods, including cocoa, sugar, tobacco and vanilla, were dispatched upstream on smaller boats from Cádiz. The Sevillian exchange, La Lonja, the wharfs and quays were in disrepair and many were vacant. Seville was almost marooned; it was a port with no sea like some of the major settlements around today’s shrunken Aral Sea. Seville’s enormously wealthy cadre of merchants diverted their capital and aspired to deploy their know-how into state-protected industrial investment and development. Despite the massive contraction in its port’s activities, some ships made it up river to Seville. Locally, a number of agencies were established to manage the port. Between 1784 and 1815, El Real Consulado de Sevilla was the agency responsible for the maintenance of the port and its ‘ría’ (Camacho Rueda, 1989). Its efforts were piecemeal and the result was only represented by the dredging of some channels. Thereafter, the Compañía de Navegación del Guadalquivir acted as the successor agency; its efforts were also of little consequence. It was only after 1852, when the state took charge of the watercourse, that substantial improvements were achieved. The state aided and abetted some protectionist policies, which were doomed to failure, as their promotion coincided with a global shift away from monopolies in the direction of free trade. Initially, the crown only supported these industrial developments with legislation, without making investments. The raison d’êtrè behind these developments was to maintain a monopoly over trade with the Americas by furnishing a range of goods that the colonies were, or would be, obliged to import. It was also an attempt to allow Sevillian products prosper by facilitating their penetration of the peninsular market as a substitute for the loss of American commerce. Neither policy achieved its goals. One such company was La Real Compañía de San Fernando, dedicated to textile production, which was established in 1747 at Seville. Within two years of its start-up, it counted 4,878 operatives in its 18 factories scattered between the peninsula, Europe and the colonies (Aguilar Piñal, 1989).

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Less than 500 of the total were based in Seville. It did not prosper, as its prospective markets turned to cheaper products from elsewhere. Other companies such as those of Caracas, Havana and Extremadura enjoyed the same fate, despite the involvement of the monarchy as a shareholder. The final blow for those concerns that managed to survive was the official first relaxation of El Monopolio in 1756. In desperation, the merchant elite began to view the rest of the peninsula as a potential market for both processed goods and agricultural commodities. Seville was stranded in other ways. The national system of roads was woefully inadequate. Also, there were internal customs duties payable for the carriage and passage of goods through the so-called puertos secos and finally squadrons of intermediaries sought a cut on goods (Muñoz Pérez, 1955). Hence, products from Seville could neither be easily transported to potential internal markets, nor would they find a market if they were over-priced. Attempts were made to reduce these obstacles but, in the main, these efforts were in vain.

Seville becoming modern Seville moved from the eighteenth into the nineteenth century without substantial alterations in her economic structures or morphology. Becoming modern was a protracted and difficult process for a city that had lost so much and had failed to adapt to new circumstances. Old problems remained; flooding and especially disease were frequent visitors harvesting their tolls of unfortunate poor. The Napoleonic interruption and the loss of the colonies made matters worse. Seville remained a city deeply reliant on the well-being of its agricultural hinterland for its prosperity. It was no Barcelona or Bilbao; its problems are to some extent inscribed in the city’s population curve. At the end of the eighteenth century, the city population hovered at c.85,000-plus, but it fell below this total in the early years of the next century. In the 1830s, it rose substantially and maintained this growth, albeit at a slower rate, for the rest of the century. Earlier in that century, Seville was the only Andalusian city with stable manufacturing units that merited their being called industries and they included iron working, an armoury, tobacco and gunpowder – much as matters had been. Madoz writing cankerously about Seville in 1846 noted that there were neither major merchants active, nor was there any financial infrastructure and not even any private limited companies (Madoz, 1845–50). Trade, he asserted, had a limited localised geographical arena. Perhaps the opening of a proper bridge across the river in 1835 marked a major turning point in the fortunes of the city and its hinterland. A concerted series of efforts was made from 1863, perhaps for the first time ever, to plan the modernisation of the entire waterway from Seville to the sea and undertake the construction of a proper port. Five years later, adequate docks and wharfs were in place and navigation on the waterway was substantially improved. In 1870, the Junta de Obras del Puerto was established and control of the harbour was effectively given over to Sevillian merchants. This agency managed to reduce significantly the distance of the port from the sea by constructing a series of major canals. Recognising new commercial opportunities, members of Seville’s merchant fraternity founded in 1886 its Cámara de Comercio, Industria y Navegación (Camacho Rueda, 1989). The emergence of Seville as a major regional railway hub was signalled in 1885 when the line between Mérida and Seville was completed. This process was initiated with the construction of lines linking Córdoba in 1859, Cádiz in 1860 and Málaga in 1878. The improvements in infrastructure were further reflected in the goods throughput at Seville’s port. In 1868, it was only 108,113, tons; in 1878, 231,745 tons; in 1895, 523,000 tons; and, finally, in 1900, 690,599 tons moved through the port (Camacho Rueda, 1989). Some of the increase in movement in the last decade of the century

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related to a large growth in mineral exports. The last two decades of the century saw a duplication of the number of boats passing through the port. From c.1850 onwards, the restructuring of urban form owed much to the relocation and improvement of the port and the positioning of the railway lines. Indeed, the railway being brought in to serve the new port transformed the area beside the river outside the walls. Expansion to the west was facilitated earlier, in 1835, by the construction of the Puente de Triana (Suárez Garmendia, 1989). These developments allowed the area between La Carretería, La Cestería and La Plaza de Armas to emerge as an essential commercial axis. In this way, renewed prosperity around the port was responsible for the transformation and expansion of the area immediately outside the walls. The ancient walled core only began to be slowly transformed in the last decade of the century, some time after the leading gates were demolished.

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Chapter 4

Cádiz and La Bahía de Cádiz Below Seville, more than 80 km downstream, near where the Guadalquivir finally enters the Atlantic is the well protected Bahía de Cádiz which is the locale for a select group of maritime dependent settlements that includes Cádiz, San Fernando-Isla de León, Chipiona, Puerto Real, El Puerto de Santa María, Sanlúcar de Barrameda and Rota (see Figure 4.1). They have all acted as anteports of Seville. Even the smaller settlements in this area during the mid-eighteenth century had substantial populations. The new town of San Fernando then had 28,000 residents, Puerto Real, 8,438; Rota, 6,789 and outside the Bahía, Chiclana recorded 7,450 residents. Some even had merchants then trading directly with the Indies (Campos Delgado and Camarero Bullón, 1995). All of these centres had trading connections with Jerez de la Frontera, whose population then was 45,506 (Reher, 1990). On the estuary of the Guadalquivir stands another important port, Sanlúcar de la Barrameda (see Figure 4.1). Its fortunes were first linked to the prosperity of Seville and later to the viticultural revolution of the late eighteenth century (Maldonado Rosso, 1999). The location of all of these ports and especially that of Cádiz was exactly inverse to that of Seville; they are on, or very near, the open sea. Cádiz heads a narrow and short tombolo, exposed to the elements and to its enemies alike and it was never secure from the attentions of either. Space has always been at a premium and the major elements of a port, such as docks, quays and warehouses, have never been easily accommodated. Cádiz could never vie with Seville’s role as a provisions collection centre, processor and exporter; after all Cádiz itself has no immediate hinterland (Ponsot, 1986). Tidal conditions, currents and wind all favoured highly sheltered Seville. Nevertheless, it is impossible to think of Cádiz without considering all the ports in the Bahía de Cádiz; even these, too, were prisoners of their physical geography. Shifting sands, marshes, winds and currents have all conspired against easy access to them. The Bahía had its advantages: first and foremost it was on the doorstep of major maritime trade routes and the rapid turnaround of ships could be easily accomplished (Domínguez Ortiz, 1946b). The ports around the Bahía could offer major services, especially ship repair, and there were several arsenals (Casado Soto, 1996b). More importantly, ships could enter the port of Cádiz, weather permitting, day or night, or at any time during the year. In addition, boats with large draught requirements could anchor without difficulty (García Baquero González, 1986). Initially, Seville’s position with its possession of an exclusive overseas trading monopoly was inviolate. Nevertheless, even in the sixteenth century, Seville could not handle all the demands placed upon her. Cádiz picked at whatever trading crumbs became available and it had been, long before Seville, a trading port that linked North Africa with Northern Europe and the Atlantic with the Mediterranean (Rumeu de Armas, 1976). It occupied a nodal position on a series of oceanic trading routes that have been significant since prehistoric times. Later on, the monopoly did not totally exclude it from such activities. In addition, a codicil of the monopoly legislation of 1529 enabled Cádiz’s merchants to off- and on-load goods for the Americas provided that they were not precious metals (Chaunu, 1955–60). To ensure that monopoly rules were upheld, the Seville-based Casa de Contratación was allowed to station four inspectors at Cádiz. Sacked twice from the sea in the latter half of the sixteenth century,

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Figure 4.1

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Cádiz: Context and locale

Cádiz’s position was weakened; its unequal relations with Seville may have been a blessing in disguise. Merchant attitudes in Seville to Cádiz were hostile in the extreme and moves were often afoot to end Cádiz’s maritime functions. Cádiz in the sixteenth century was perceived as a threat, rather than a real competitor to Seville. It was the reputed abode of many fraudsters anxious to evade the more rigorously imposed controls in force at Seville (Girard, 1932). Sevillian antipathy was also engendered because significant proportions of Cádiz’s merchant élite were foreigners. Its recorded population in 1605 was slightly below the 2,000 mark, making it even smaller than Sanlúcar. This minuscule figure reflected the flight – and failure to return – of some of its residents, when the settlement was sacked by the English some eight years beforehand. Three consecutive years of plague after 1649 harvested a death-toll of some 14,000, which, if correct, indicates a sensational increase over the immediately previous decades (Domínguez Ortiz, 1984). A figure of 41,000 residents was noted in 1700, and in

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the last third of that century, it had dramatically grown to nearly 80,000 souls, allowing Cádiz to assume, albeit for a very brief period, the rank of third in the Spanish urban league (Callahan, 1972). Given that Cádiz was one of Spain’s most ancient ports, this chapter begins by considering the nature of trade and its early port. The nature of the Enlightenment-modified monopoly transferred to Cádiz is then addressed, as well as the regulatory framework for shipping and trade. The volume and composition of colonial trade is analysed, with particular attention being focussed on bullion flows and the arrival of other precious colonial goods. The connections between surges of trade and demographic and urban expansion are considered. Finally, the contributions of mercantile prosperity to the re-sorting of the class and social fabric of the settlement are explored.

Morphological inheritance Because of its national and regional geo-strategic location, no other port settlement on the peninsula has been so often mapped (Calderón Quijano, 1976). Investments in its defences have bequeathed us with many plans and ‘views’. The copiousness of sources rather their scarcity constitutes one of the main problems in any attempt to link commercial failure or success with population change and morphological development. Likewise, information relating to the commercial life of the port city, especially in the eighteenth century, is equally abundant given the levels of state surveillance (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004; Ruiz Nieto-Guerrero, 1999). In essence, there were three, perhaps four, major phases in the structural evolution of Cádiz between 1262 and c.1900. An initial period of solid expansion began in the fifteenth century and culminated in its destruction in 1596 (Rumeu de Armas, 1976). It was followed by a period of slow recovery until c.1680 and thereafter growth gathered pace, which slackened after the negative effects of monopoly suspension cut back the urban dynamism. Three symbolic pictorial renderings of the port city in the sixteenth century allow a broad assessment of its morphological structure to be conducted (Navascués y de Palacio, 1996b). These include an anonymous portrayal of 1513 (see Plate 4), a representation by Hoefnagel in 1564 and some excellent 1567 (see Plate 5) drawings made by Wyngaerde. Probably founded by the Phoenicians, Cádiz must be Atlantic Europe’s oldest Atlantic port city. The earliest urbanised section was located on the north-west of the tombolo and here too was the site of the Islamic town (see Figure 4.1). It was reconquered in 1262 and walled again shortly after that date. The earliest nucleus coincides with much of today’s barrio del Pópulo (see Figure 4.5 below). Trade with North Africa was responsible for considerable demographic growth and physical expansion during the sixteenth century, until its destruction in 1596 by the English. This event marked a major benchmark in the evolution of the port settlement. The 1513 representation shows a fully fledged mature urban settlement viewed from an eastern perspective (see Plate 4). Cádiz consisted of two major districts, divided by a ‘port’. The 1513 representation illustrates a settlement with a suite of very impressive monumental buildings, such as its cathedral, fortress and several other military features including its stout walls. It conveys the impression of a thriving stronghold, well protected by massive defensive assets (Calderón Quijano et al., 1978). Of the other two sixteenth-century views, Van Wyngaerde’s is perhaps the more detailed and most revealing (Kagan, 1986). Interestingly, his perspective was the same as that of the anonymous artist of half a century earlier (Plate, 4). However, in essence, the latter must be considered impressionistic in relation to detail as the location of some of the towers and spires, for instance, were sometimes inaccurately depicted (Navascués del Palacio, 1996b).

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Given all its imperfections, it is a wonderful template from which it is possible to deduce much about the organisation of mid-sixteenth century Cadiz (see Plate 4.2, and Figure 4.3 below). It portrays all the principle defensive features such as the gates, towers and the then very deficient walls. It highlights the major ecclesiastical structures and, more importantly, it shows the leading street lines, as well as the remaining undeveloped areas within the walls. It also confirms that most of the houses were large and solid two- or three-storied structures. Many of those buildings with chimneys were connected with productive activities. It also pinpoints the site of La Aduana, the key commercial streets and the port nearby, with its exposed narrow quays. In addition, it provides a prospect of the spectacular surroundings of Cádiz, showing its salt-pans, the bridge at Puerto Real, Los Torres de Hércules and some tunny fishery stations - almadrabas. Detailed work confirms that shortly after its reconquest, Cádiz in 1262, had only a few hundred residents (Sancho de Sopranis, 1939). Using a multiplier, the population has been estimated at 1,214 residents in 1465 (Sánchez Herrero, 1981). Interestingly, already in 1485, 22 per cent of its residents were of Genoese origin. By 1534, the population had risen to 3,015 placing Cádiz in third place on the Bahía behind El Puerto’s 9,192 and Sanlúcar’s recorded 6,006 residents respectively. A later census of 1587 sums to some 5,400 residents at Cádiz, which seems to be disproportionately small in relation to the ‘bulk’ of the settlement depicted by Van Wyngaerde twenty years earlier (Kagan, 1986).

Early port and trade Perhaps the other side of this coin is represented by the dynamic activities of the port of Cádiz during most of the sixteenth century. Research has confirmed that Gaditanos [natives of Cádiz] were trading with ports of the western Mediterranean especially Genoa and Barcelona (Horozco, 1845). Even more significantly, trade with North Africa was especially intense and, furthermore, commercial links flourished with London, Southampton and other ports in northern France and the Low Countries (Sánchez Herrero, 1981). It then acted as a hub linking the Maghreb with Atlantic Europe (Chaunu, 1967). Fishing, fish curing and salt production were the trilogy that underwrote Cádiz’s commercial foundation as a trading port. Its adjacent waters have been for centuries inordinately rich with tunny and other species and fishermen extended their activities to the Canaries, which led them further down the coast of West Africa. In turn, these expeditions provided incentives, encouragement and support to those wishing to extend the limits of Atlantic exploration. It allowed merchants to link up with the gold, silver and ivory trades and caravan routes of the Maghreb, Saharan and subSaharan Africa as far south as The Gambia and right into the centre of the continent (Rumeu de Armas, 1976). Early documents mention trade with Africa from Cádiz as ‘immemorial and ancient’ (Sánchez Herrera, 1981). The trade expanded in both directions to include a zone in Africa from which items such as slaves, precious metals, gems, skins, medicinal plants, dyes and much more were dispatched to Cádiz. At the start the sixteenth century, Cádiz had established itself as an entrepôt, in as much as it was acting as a redistribution centre for bullion, gems and slaves. It also re-exported enormous volumes of peninsular and north European textiles to Africa (Horozco, 1845). Most of the slaves were then described as moros. That cannot be taken to mean that they were exclusively of North African origin. Negroes, however, were recognised as a distinctive type of slave. Africa was then the most vital segment of the foreland of pre-Discovery Cádiz in terms of the value and volume of goods moving in both directions (Sánchez Herrera, 1981). It provided a crude template for the commercial structure that Seville subsequently assumed.

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Goods from the Mediterranean and Africa were redirected from Cádiz to several parts of northern Atlantic Europe and resident Flemish and Genoese merchants participated in these activities. African products were thus landed at Genoa, Livorno (Leghorn) and Venice (Horozco, 1845). However, Africa and Italy were the two fundamental components of Cádiz’s foreland; northern Atlantic European ports were third in order of value and volume of trade (Rumeu de Armas, 1976). Re-exported African goods provided the raw materials, Genoa the commercial expertise, the finance and the trading networks. The Genoese were outstandingly the largest foreign resident merchant group at Cádiz. They controlled much of the African trade and, by 1460, this trade was at its most intense (Heers, 1961). They were also involved in the Madeiran sugar trade and once again Cádiz was an ideal orbital location (Mauro, 1960). Indeed, one of the earliest customs manifests in existence records aspects of this trade (Heers, 1961, pp. 69–70). Not only did the Genoese participate in African trades and re-exports of northern European textiles to Africa, they also acted as factors and shippers to northern European ports of Cádiz’s most prized exports: salted tuna, olive oil and salt.

Monopoly and enlightenment: Cádiz during the eighteenth century The monopoly was albeit one of the primary planks of a mercantilist policy implemented by the state. In essence, it was a dimension of a political economy tied to a form of economic nationalism manipulated by the crown. Spatially, its architecture was represented by the trade routes converging on Cádiz and the location of its metropoles (see Figure 4.2). The crown aspired to integrate the state and simultaneously tighten its administrative control over a peninsular ragbag of semi-autonomous regions. This may have been the ultimate goal; on the ground, different regions and even many towns successfully defended their freedoms. In reality, no comprehensive policy was implemented to specifically deliver these policies before the nineteenth century. There was simply too much variation on the ground and no means of enforcing uniformity as vested constituencies were so powerful. Crown and government were at one in the eighteenth century. They wished to intensify commerce and trade between Spain and her colonies and rescue both from the perceived failures of the seventeenth century (Pérez Serrano, 1992). To achieve these ends, military and naval forces had to be built up and the management of commerce transferred from foreign to Spanish hands. As in other contemporary European colonial powers, the state had to run with a political economy, from which benefits would accrue to its merchants who, in turn, would act as its agents (Fisher, 1985). Success demanded that there simply had to be a coincidence of interests. In the end, the reforms implemented were devised within the existing carapace of the inherited monopoly. Other formulae to circumvent the rigours of the monopoly were the confirmation of individual naturalisations and trading permits to trusted foreigners (Ruiz Rivera, 1988). Perhaps the most important departure of the Bourbon period was the creation of several privileged commercial companies (Matilla Quiza, 1982). In all, seven such companies were founded, but only four of them ever functioned. They were La Real Compañía Guipuzcoana de Caracas (founded in 1728 and disbanded in 1785; Hussey, 1934). It was licensed to trade between the Vascongadas and Caracas. Also, there was La Real Compañía de la Habana (1740, dissolved in the 1840s), which was devised to stimulate Cuba’s economy; La Real Compañía de San Fernando de Seville (1747), which was allowed to trade with the American colonies except Cuba and Venezuela; and, finally, La Real Compañía de Barcelona (1755) was founded to trade with some Caribbean islands (Gárate Ojanguren, 1993) and phased out by an order of 1756 (Nunes Días, 1963). Nevertheless, between 1730 and 1778, some of these companies carried some 20 per cent of all the goods leaving Spain

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Figure 4.2

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Trade routes from Cádiz during the eighteenth century. Adapted from GarcíaBaquero-González, 1976

for the Americas (García Baquero González, 1976). Some continued to trade and prosper long after the decrees that established them were suspended (Gárate, 1993). Besides chartering ships, The La Habana Company financed, built and managed them. During its years of prosperity, it developed an autonomous political economy which, in effect, was sanctioned by the crown. More importantly, and notably in the case of this company, it amplified and restructured the trading foreland of Cádiz. Its vessels shipped textiles to Mexico and brought Mexican flour to Cuba; its agents sent bullion to Caracas and Portobello where their agents purchased cocoa. A network of agents was established throughout Mexico, who were involved in all kinds of commercial activities on behalf of the company (Gárate, 1993). It also helped to fund its naval escorts (Gárate, 1993). When the strictures of the monopoly were finally suspended by the free commerce decrees of 1765 and 1778, their rationales no longer existed. However, the La Habana Company continued to operate successfully until the middle of the nineteenth century.

A new monopoly Commerce and trade flourished once Spain ‘rediscovered’ the Americas during the eighteenth century (Ringrose, 1996). It made Cádiz, the silver capital of Europe and one of Atlantic Europe’s most successful port cities. As noted, a measure of the triumph of the exclusive port policy is revealed by the fact that 85 per cent of all recorded sailings between the colonies from the peninsula,

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over the period 1717 until 1765, left from Cádiz; this was much the same as the figure for the earlier reported period at Seville (Chaunu,1955–60; García Baquero González, 1976). The formal establishment of the Casa de Contratación in 1503, as noted already, signalled the initiation of a phase of the monopoly policy in favour of Seville – one port – all trade. It remained in force until the 1680s when Cádiz began to assume the role of exclusive colonial port. Cádiz’s role was further emboldened in 1717 when the monopoly was formally transferred to it. The monopoly itself did not expire until 1765, when it was slowly diluted in favour of open commerce, thereby gradually allowing the other Iberian ports to participate in colonial trade (see p. 000). It was finally abolished in 1786. The relocation in 1717 of La Casa de Contratación and El Consulado from Seville to Cádiz marked a decisive step in the relationship between these two rival ports. How effective, then, was Cádiz in capitalising on its exclusive position? Between 1717 and 1765, 88 per cent of all departures for the colonies and 82 per cent of all return sailings to Spain departed and arrived at Cádiz (García Baquero González, 1976). These data are a sure testament of achievement. The only other ports that managed to realise a small measure of derogation of the monopoly were Pasajes and San Sebastián, where ships belonging to La Real Compañía Guipuzcoana de Caracas were allowed sail to Venezuela (Hussey, 1934). In total, some 152 recorded ships managed to evade the rigours of El Monopolio between 1739 and 1744, and of that number, 143 vessels were accounted for by the two sister Basque ports already mentioned above. Indeed, the number of returning ships that did not finally dock at Cádiz was greater than the outgoing ones. War, weather conditions and technical problems often dictated their choice of homeport and the scattering of arrivals to a litany of other ports is a testament to insecure conditions. Overall, numbers were small and Lisbon attracted most perhaps because it was nearest. In times of war, especially with the English, returning ships were usually diverted to northern Atlantic Iberian ports, which included those of Portugal, as the Bahía de Cádiz was often the first area to be blockaded. Anxious to participate in colonial trade, the other increasingly powerful continental states, such as England, Holland and France, were constantly attempting to prize their way in by war, by ruses or by deceit (Walker, 1979). Between 1701 and 1716, only 106 vessels left La Bahía de Cádiz for the New World. This means an average of six per year, which was clearly a totally deficient number to provision and service such extensive and dispersed overseas territories (García Baquero González, 1976). Indeed, a seriously weakened Spain during the height of the war of the Spanish Succession ceded her primacy in transoceanic trade to her most voracious rivals. It was a monumental setback. Neither Spain, nor the Bahía, were ever fully capable of reasserting their former naval ascendancy. Cádiz was essentially an importing port complex and the range of goods entering was even more diverse than that which left the port. Far fewer imports than previously estimated left the peninsula. Broadly, there is better evidence available, making it easier to track and value most of the imports during the latter half of the century. Between 1747 and 1778, there was a staggering growth in the value and the volume of what was landed. Exotic agricultural products were of supreme importance. Today, some might refer to them as industrial crops. Here, dyes such as indigo and cochineal were very important. Interestingly, medicinal plants were also a major incoming commodity. Truly, quite spectacular increases were seen in the volume of cocoa, sugar, and tobacco imports. Metals such as copper and tin were also significant, as were exotic timber and finished wood products, especially those originating in Mexico and Brazil. What is especially noteworthy is the spectacular growth in imports in the second part of the century. All the leading incoming commodities often experienced massive growth. It is also possible to confirm an enormous decline in tobacco as a percentage of all imports, despite a growth in the quantity of imports. The most stunning increases were in volumes of cocoa and sugar. Sugar

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

imports achieved a colossal 28 per cent growth, while the percentage increases of cocoa and tobacco imports were 29 and 11 per cent respectively. Over the century, most of these agricultural raw materials arrived unprocessed and they had to be processed and often refined elsewhere in Europe, especially in Holland.

Trade Treasures: Gold and silver So valuable and so sought after by many competing interests, a plethora of attempted regulations makes the story of precious metals, caudales or tesoros, one of frauds, concealment, deceits, devilment and speculation. For the researcher, they are a nightmare as there was frequently slippage and official data invariably underestimate values, volumes and the scale of the unrecorded. What is clear is that the proportion was always 4:1 in favour of silver. Cádiz was after all a silver city. Interesting trends are also identifiable in relation to the landings of gold and silver (Attman, 1986; García Baquero González, 1976). Both their value and volume dramatically increased. Curiously, although the volumes of silver arriving always outstripped that of gold, the amount of gold being landed grew in the third quarter of the century. In the eighteenth century the state carefully annotated the distinctions in arriving bullion between what was raised abroad through taxes, which was the property of the state, and what was consigned and owned by companies or individuals. This has allowed several scholars to attain precision in their calculations (García Baquero González, 1976; Morineau, 1985). On average, at least 80 per cent of the bullion landed at Cádiz during the eighteenth century was moved and owned by companies or individuals. There were certainly some excellent years; these included 1749, 1750, 1751, 1767, 1770 and 1774, when immense quantities of bullion were off-loaded at Cádiz. There were also flat years, when amounts of bullion landed were minute, such as 1748, 1762 and 1771. In relation to imports, it is now abundantly obvious that the total value of the imported treasures was several times greater than the summation of all other arriving goods in the period between 1747 to 1748. The state levied its dues on all incoming goods. Where were they dispersed to and how were they ‘consumed’? Who got the final rewards? It seems that players inside and outside Spain ultimately derived the benefits of these unparalleled riches, as both the treasures and other exotic goods, made their way elsewhere, that is, out of Cádiz. Indeed, the trading structure in the port city had evolved to suit these kinds of transfers. Given that there are gaps in the information that is available, it is difficult to furnish broad estimations over the values and volumes of goods on the move in both directions. Over the period between 1747 and 1778, however, the total value of imports, denominated in pesos largos, has been estimated to be some 57 million (García Baquero González, 1976). Of that total, 78 per cent is accounted for by bullion and the rest, 22 per cent, was made up from other imports, chiefly sugar, cocoa and dyes. These proportions do not differ from these worked out for an earlier period, from 1580–1620 (Morineau, 1985). Trade of people For a range of complex reasons, Cádiz never acted as a significant slaving port. Only 14 boats out of some 1,800 boats between 1717 and 1778 actually carried slaves out of Cádiz. Earlier practice at Seville was another story. Between 1551 and 1640, out of c.7,500 boats involved in transoceanic crossings, more than a fifth – some 1,200 boats – ferried slaves (Chaunu, 1955–60). Were slaves

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then rarely an issue in Spain’s eighteenth century Carrera de Indias? If so, why? First, there was the question of inertia. Source zones for slaves, especially on the West African coast, had been appropriated earlier by the Portuguese. Indeed, English, Dutch and French interests had established hegemony in this trade by the eighteenth century (Postma, 1990). In France, it was the Companie de Guinie that was responsible for a lot of this human trade. In addition, other slaving companies operated out of La Rochelle (Clarke, 1981). The South Sea Company looked after English interests. Whenever war broke out with the English, the crown confirmed asientos with a variety of interests to ensure that the supply of slaves did not dry up. Spanish state policy had been to levy exorbitant taxes on those who wished to trade in people. These levies were always considered by aspirant carriers to be a deterrent (Haring, 1918). In this way, fiscal policy rather than moral considerations sapped the appetite of those traders who were eager to be involved in slaving. So tight, was the foreign dominance of slave trading that the Spanish state allowed the Compañía Gaditana de Negros to be established, and it and La Compañía de La Habana, founded in 1740, got involved in slaving (Gárate, 1993; Torres Ramírez, 1973). It is evident that many foreign merchants acting for Spanish buyers and speculators were deeply involved in slaving, to avoid what they believed to be inordinate state interference. For these reasons, many of the slaves traded from Cádiz and other Spanish ports in the eighteenth century never passed through its port or other peninsular ports on their journey from their homes to the places of their enslavement. In addition, little of the trade, which was effectively put-out, ever came under the control of the Casa de Contratación at Cádiz. However, the entire ethos of slavery had changed. In sixteenth century Seville, many slaves were valued household members; they had considerable personal freedoms and, later in their lives, many became freemen and even worked abroad in a paid capacity on behalf of their former masters. Scarcely 2 per cent of the richest households in Cádiz in 1773 kept them (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004). Earlier, others even went to the Americas with their owners (Morse, 2002). To sum up as far as the port of Cádiz was concerned, slaves were never an important commodity in the eighteenth century. Even the slaving company, founded with exclusivity in mind and based in that port, never became a major international shipper of slaves (Torres Ramírez, 1973). Silver and gold, dyes, sugar, tobacco, tropical wood and medicinal plants flooded into the port. Wines, fortified brandy and olive oil went out and the main re-exports were spices, principally pepper, cinnamon, and especially textiles. Exports and re-exports Between 1717 and 1735 some 130,000 tons of goods were exported from Cádiz in some 550 boats. Weight has been employed as the best fit measure of the movement of goods, as it is the most discriminating index. Cádiz, like Seville before, was a significant player exporting agricultural products: indeed, 46 per cent of all exports over the period in question were in this category. Wine and vinegar, not separated in inventories, made up the leading items, counting for 41 per cent of all the agricultural goods. In all probability, the value and volume of wine exports actually increased during the century as the products of Jerez de la Frontera and Sanlúcar became more popular (Maldonado Rosso, 1999). Not unexpectedly, aguardiente [home-made brandy] came in a close second with some 37 per cent of the same total. Olive oil was a forlorn third, summing only to 11 per cent. Re-exports of pepper and cinnamon totalled 5 per cent. Together, items such as olives, raisins, capers, almonds and grain failed to break the 10 per cent barrier. Processed goods may be the most suitable label to attach to the other kinds of items that were mainly re-exported and they aggregated to some 53 per cent of all exports. Three types of commodities dominated this class of export: textiles, metals and paper. Of all exports, textiles were

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outstandingly the most significant; they added up to 73 per cent of processed goods and 33 different types of textiles can be identified in the export registers. They were sourced from many parts of Europe, including England, France and Brittany, Holland and Genoa. A useful listing of the places of origin of these exports has been recently published (Walker, 1979). On the peninsula, they came from La Rioja, Guadalajara, Seville and San Fernando, Catalonia and Segovia. ‘Royal factories’ at Guadalajara and San Fernando provided a large share of peninsular exports. The fact that textiles were made in such types of state-supported facilities is evidence of the weak conditions of manufacturing in Spain. More than 70 per cent of these textile exports originated outside the peninsula and they came chiefly from northern Europe. In other words, most textiles were re-exports. Paper and metal goods – of which there was also considerable diversity – totalled to almost 10 per cent of all the goods in this group. Most of the metal products came from different parts of Spain, and especially from El Señorio de Bizkaia, while paper, almost in its entirety, was sourced from Genoa. By mid-century, the weight of paper exports equalled that of all iron products that were shipped abroad. In other words, by volume, some 50 odd per cent of all the exports sent out from Cádiz were sourced in Spain and the other half came chiefly from other parts of Atlantic Europe and the Mediterranean. An analysis of archival documentation needs to be accomplished so as to establish beyond doubt whether or not there were major changes in the value and volume of goods exported from Cádiz in the latter part of the eighteenth century. A sample trawl of the archives indicates a slight decline in the volume of the agricultural goods that were dispatched and a doubling of exports of paper (García Baquero González, 1976). The identification of the ultimate destinations of the goods sent out from Cádiz also remains to be explored. What is clear is that between 1751 and 1757, 50 per cent of the total tonnage exported was of Spanish provenance; this only accounted for c.16 per cent of the value all exports. It remains uncertain how representative these data are. From 1751 to 1776, one researcher has reported that, on the basis of a small sample survey of the manifests of several ships, the most significant alteration was further growth in the export of textiles matched by a major fall in agricultural exports (García Baquero González, 1976). Organisation of trade Companies established by groups or individual merchants seem to have cornered nearly 90 per cent of the mercantile trade at Cádiz. The word ‘company’ here is really a euphemism, as trading contracts were usually established during most of the eighteenth century by legally underwritten short-term alliances. Each of these associations was characterised by four benchmark elements: they had a collective name; they shared internal responsibilities for achieving their objectives; certain functions could be derogated to outside agents who had no claim on the company; and, finally, they had unlimited responsibilities for all those involved (Bustos Rodríguez, 1995). Most were simply business alliances of family-run commercial houses known as casas (Carrasco González, 1996). In this way, merchants could trade individually or within companies, with the general proviso that they held licenses from the Consulado (Ruiz Rivera, 1988). When companies were established between different merchants, their instruments of association were set down in a document (Olmedo Bernal, 1992). Two family alliances were the most frequent, accounting for 49 per cent of ventures. Single families, usually with several members involved, accounted for 41 per cent of all agreements; the rest were composed of unions involving three or more families (Bustos Rodríguez, 1995). Most agreements carefully recorded the amounts of capital supplied by each of the promoters. Each one stipulated the length of time it was to remain in force and how each investor was to be

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rewarded during the life-span of the company and at the time of its dissolution. Many companies were established for short periods, others lasted for much longer and some even changed their names, so tracking them becomes a nightmare. Still others were brought down by bankruptcies during bad years especially at the end of the century (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004). No state or privately funded commercial company had its headquarters at Cádiz; the only exception was La Real Compañía de Filipinas, founded in 1735; however, it never functioned. The transactions of La Real Compañía Gaditana de Negros rarely involved Cádiz directly (Torres Ramírez, 1973). Other state-sponsored companies ran their ships from Cádiz and during their best years carried in the order of 20 per cent of the total transoceanic trade connected with this port.

Shipping management and routes Growing threats from pirates and privateers obliged the authorities to instigate a policy of fleet movement from the peninsula from 1556. Separate fleets were organised for Nueva España and Tierra Firme and later on for El Mar del Sur (Antuñez y Acevedo, 1797; Haring, 1918; García Fuentes, 1980; Veitia Linaje, 1672). Small naval squadrons known as armadas had galeones to protect them. Laws of all kinds regulated the convoys and the number of escorts, although no thresholds were placed on the number of merchantmen involved. Attempts were made during the eighteenth century to improve shipping management and the most fundamental improvement was the establishment in 1705 of the Junta del Re-establecemiento del Comercio. Between 1720 and 1754 it decreed several important reform packages relating to all aspects of fleet regulation. Interestingly, some of the organisational changes were compromise responses to the demands of both American and Iberian trading constituencies. Atlantic fleet transport continued until 1788. The reforms did, however, influence many aspects of cargo transport. Up to 1739, 46 per cent of ships crossed the Atlantic in fleets; after that date up to 1778, only 13 per cent of goods was carried in the same way. What came to be called registros sueltos [open ledgers] accounted for most sailings. The reasons for the shift reside in the relentless efforts of the crown to free up participation in Atlantic trade and break the suffocating controls of the established merchants and companies associated with them (García Baquero González, 1976). It was also an instrument by which the crown could cream off funds from the successful petitioners for licences. Otherwise the crown could compel the shipper to embark, for no tariff, a certain levy of soldiers and/or military supplies. Only certain ports in the Americas could be visited by Spanish trading vessels, the most important of which are shown on Figure.4.2). The rapid popularity of the registros sueltos corresponds with a marked intensification in peninsular–American trade, especially in the years before the abandonment of the monopoly. Over these years, nearly 80 per cent of all trade went on ships franchised in this way. Other specialised types of boats also plied the peninsular–Atlantic route. There were boats that carried mail on behalf of the both crown and merchants. Known as Navíos de Aviso, they were small and usually rapid boats and the mean number crossing each year summed to five vessels with a total tonnage of 456 tons. Clearly, this represents a small fraction of the totals involved in the period 1717 to 1765; the average being thirty-eight boats weighing in at some 13,733 tons (García Baquero González, 1976). Mercury was also a vital commodity for mining and since it was such a prized element, special large warships, azogues, were used to transport it. Their numbers were small but their tonnage was quite significant, and its importance in the mines, success was critical (Von Humbolt, 1925). The routes of the Carrera during the eighteenth century were essentially unchanged from earlier times. Boats and tonnages calculated for the period 1717–78 are set out in Table 4.1. Each

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Table 4.1

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Cádiz: Goods and shipping movements, 1717–78 No. of vessels

Total tonnage

302 792 328 794

74,832 305,055 126,707 248,563

Las Islas Nueva España Resto del Continente Tierra Firme

Source: García-Baquero González,1976, vol. I, p. 267.

of these zones had its own suite of port-settlements and it only remains to identify the ports of the Resto del Continente. The major ones involved were Buenos Aires, Callao, and Valparaíso. Over the period in question, there were, as in earlier times, important secular changes in the number of ships and gross tonnage. Nueva España and Tierra Firme retained their supremacy in terms of ships, tonnage and cargo value, although it became increasingly diluted by the growing ascendancy of the ports from the Resto del Continente. This transformation reflected the growth of the River Plate region (Arazola Corvera, 1998). Each of these major routes was characterised by its own particular mix of commodity flows between 1717 and 1778. Cocoa and tobacco were the principal items leaving Tierra Firme for the peninsula, with the former commodity being by far the most favoured, accounting for some 88 per cent of all exports in 1765. By contrast, Nueva España sent enormous amounts of dyes to the peninsula. In 1760, for example, 86 per cent of all exports from Nueva España were dyes of different types. The leading dyes exported were la grana [cochineal], añil [indigo] and palo campeche [bloodwood tree (haematoxylum campechianum)] in that order. Nearly, 90 per cent of all dyes exported from the New World over the period were sourced in this region. The Caribbean’s Las Islas exported sugar, tobacco and some dyes. During the period in question, the proportions of goods travelling each route hardly varied. Indeed, there was remarkable stability and continuity in the pecking order of goods crossing the Atlantic on each route. The flows from the Resto del Continente were the one major exception in that there were considerable variations over time in the types of goods on the move. Initially, cascarilla-bark led the field; later, it was cocoa, perhaps representing different phases of land exploitation in the River Plate.

Commodities, sailors, ships and voyages The later Carrera was always problematic. Given the complexities and scales of the enterprise within it, the involvement of the state was vital, especially through the navy and its concerns for the integrity of its political economy. The participation of large sections of society, directly and indirectly, the ships involved and the roles of outside agencies and actors who acted as counterweights added up to a fissured matrix of aspirations. Whatever the pressures, ships were vital vehicles linking together port cities on either side of the Atlantic (Merino Navarro, 1981). It involved various tiers of marine administration. It also concerned the location of the principal arsenals and boat-building centres (Casado Soto, 1996b; Urteaga, 1987). It had implications for all aspects of wood production and forestry management (Bauer, 1991). Biscuit oven locations were crucial for victualling. So, too, were the supply of wheat, hemp for cordage, canvas for sails, and fruit, fish, meat, wheat and wine for hungry and thirsty seamen. Iron, lead, copper and bronze were other vital materials, as was gunpowder.

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Procurement for all of these supplies, the production processes involved in their transformation and their distribution required a national effort, which animated a series of maritime and terrestrial networks. It also stimulated urban expansion, within and near, some port cities and this was certainly the case around the Bahía de Cádiz. The location of these activities also influenced the configuration of maritime recruitment zones for potential sailors (Goodman, 1997). All of these vital characteristics of port hinterlands are often downplayed. They have been relegated to oblivion by an over-concentration on the maritime flows of goods. It was this movement of supplies, people and expertise that sustained many aspects of maritime endeavour. During the eighteenth century, a more restricted range of boat types plied the Atlantic than was the case in earlier centuries (Chaunu, 1955–60; Serrano Mangas, 1985). At present, without more research, it is impossible to compare and contrast the roles of different boat types over extended periods (Casado Soto, 1988–98). Just as transpired with merchants categories, boat types were not always carefully recorded and for that reason alone some subsequent interpretations and classifications can be successfully challenged (O’Scanlon, 1829). Navíos, during the eighteenth century, were the dominant type of boat crossing the Atlantic and they constituted nearly half of the total (Lorenzo Sanz, 1979–80). Fragatas counted for about a quarter of the total and they varied in size from c.40 to 400 tons (Maruri Gregorisch, 1988–98). Ten other types of boats made the crossing, although none of them did so in appreciable numbers (García Baquero González, 1976). Most of Europe’s major naval powers built boats of similar types for the Atlantic trade during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (Elbl, 1985). There were, however, significant differences between them in all aspects of boat design, although they carried similar generic titles (Frax Rosales and Matilla Quiza, 1994). When trade began to prosper again in the late seventeenth century, the Spanish fleet was small and many boats were often antiquated and decrepit. This helps to account for the extraordinary variety of vessel types involved and the diversity of construction origin. It was truly a multinational fleet. This is well illustrated in the case of the fragatas. During the eighteenth century, of 157 fragatas in the Spanish fleet, only 19 per cent had been built in Spain; 23 per cent came from English yards. Boats with a tonnage of between 100 and 200 tons were by far the most common ship docking at Cádiz. They accounted for a quarter of the total. These were followed by boats in the next bracket above that; that is, vessels of between 200 and 300 tons, which made up slightly less than a fifth of the total (García Baquero González, 1976). Little research to date has been conducted on the ages of boats; however, one sample study implies that most were in the 20 to 30 year age bracket (Alemany Llovera, 1991). When Atlantic trade revived in the later seventeenth century, as noted above, the Spanish fleet was in poor condition. Despite the efforts of the new monarchy to revive shipbuilding and to channel trade onto Spanish boats and through Spanish merchants, shippers were increasingly obliged to purchase or charter foreign boats. Influences from a cash-strapped treasury also often made the state a major infractor of its own rules. The result was that foreign vessels continued to be used indiscriminately on payment of a small tariff to the state. These circumstances rotundly worked against the revival of shipbuilding in Spain (Merino Navarro, 1981). Indeed, over the period 1717 to 1778, on average two-thirds of the vessels crossing the Atlantic from Cádiz were of foreign origin. Comparing the analyses made by Chaunu (1955–60) and García Baquero González (1976), it is evident that there was no appreciable improvement in journey times between the centuries. On average, 75 days were necessary for the Cádiz to Veracruz journey (Serrano Mangas, 1985). The more difficult return lasted an average of 118 days. Obviously, fleets took longer than individual vessels (O’Scanlon, 1829).

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In the eighteenth century, the size of a ship’s human complement was related to tonnage (Rediker, 1987). Little work to date has been conducted on this aspect of peninsular seafaring. One scholar has asserted, however, that on ships of less than 100 tons, the average crew total was 32. On ships of more than 1,000 tons, there were more than 200 people aboard (García Baquero González, 1976). The key distinction on board was between the officials, the ordinary seamen and cabin staff. On smaller ships, captain and master were the same person, as were the carpenter and the cauker. On larger ships, separate individuals held these positions and there was a major-domo, two pilots, a surgeon, a barber, a constable, a bleeder [sangrador], a chaplain and a scribe. The range and volumes of provisions loaded for crews followed strict norms, as did their daily diet, which varied from day to day. It changed little from week to week. Wages also were related to distances to overseas ports; there were large differences in payments to sailors for one way or return voyages (García Baquero González, 1976). Local shippers owned a minute number of boats that called to Cádiz. The trade guides – guías de comercio – of early nineteenth-century Cádiz, recognise the shippers under the title of comerciantes navieros. In 1807, for instance, 112 of these individuals were noted. Seventy-four individuals owned one boat, 21 had two and those owing three boats summed to 14. Only three companies owned more than three vessels; the number of boats involved were seven, six and four respectively. Effectively, only the final group could be regarded as shippers (García Baquero González, 1972). Very little work has been done on long-term secular movements of ships out of Spanish major ports; Cádiz is a major exception. Drawing on a wealth of original archival material, this author has succeeded in determining a number of clear phases of shipping movements (see Table 4.2). These data provide the most effective manner for calculating the activities of ports. Table 4.2

Cádiz: Shipping movements, 1681–1772 Years No. of ships Ships tonnage

1681–1709

1710–47

1748–78

793 175,201

1,271 330,476

2,365 738,758

Source: García-Baquero González, 1976.

Up to 1709, decline was evident; it was not a very abrupt downturn. After that date, the increase in port movements gains steadily in rhythm and, in the final period, growth is quite striking (see Table 4.2). Even within these three phases, there were notable oscillations; by 1750, the variations were always on the positive side of any index. Difficulties abound in estimating the comparative value over time of the goods on the move. Continuously reliable data are not available after 1751. Much of what is missing lies buried in thousands of registers. All the evidence strongly points to the growth being sustained into the early years of the following century.

Urban inheritance For such an exposed port settlement, defence was almost a mania (Fernández Cano, 1973). After its destruction in 1596, the authorities were almost paranoid in their concerns about safety; indeed, it was mooted that, because of its open and exposed location, it might be best to dismantle the entire settlement (Cámara Muñoz, 1998). One of the several legacies of this security obsession was huge

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investment made in the construction of fortifications, the re-planning and rebuilding of the ruined urban fabric and the crafting of many maps and plans, both virtual and real now a vital source for modern scholarship (Calderón Quijano et al., 1978 ; Ruiz Nieto-Guerrero, 1999). The appraisals and the plans of engineer Cristóbal de Rojas, for instance, were to have a transcendental influence on the reshaping of the settlement from 1598 onwards (Cámara Muñoz, 1998). The net outcome was the relentless militarisation of the entire settlement; defensive considerations became supreme, everything else was secondary (Fernández Cano, 1973). Another outcome of this policy was the division of the settlement into districts known as cuarteles and, much later, these were replaced by comisarias, which were further sub-divided into islas or isletas – blocks of houses. Rojas’s partial plan for 1609 is a testament to his persistent work (Calderón Quijano et al., 1978). One of his essential goals was to impose a gridiron of streets and plazas to ensure the leading streets were aligned with the walls and became effectively integrated into the fortifications. A further problem after its sack was its very insignificant residential population. A municipal padrón, the earliest one known, for the year 1605, records only some 343 vecinos with a further 150 houses ‘empty’ and another 120 residences ‘in ruins’. Indeed, the professional military population at that time may have exceeded the ordinary residents. The town’s cabildo took a very active role in all aspects of planning and the delivery of most elements of expansion and reconstruction. One of its most formidable and enduring contributions was the construction in 1650 of the Plaza de San Antonio (see Figure 4.3).

Figure 4.3

Phases of development at Cádiz, 1576–1772. Adapted from Ruiz Nieto-Guerrero, 1999

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Most aspects of growth at Cádiz, especially during the first half of the seventeenth century, remain unexplored. As has been noted, its population in 1605 was c.2,000 residents. By 1650, a tally of 23,000 has been mooted; by the end of the century a figure of 41,000 has been suggested (Ponce Cordones, 1986; Ravina Martín, 1984). The mathematics do not seem at all correct. All authorities agree that growth occurred, but there is less coincidence in relation to the tallies involved and, more pertinently, why growth was so rapid, especially towards the end of the century. Evidently, the de facto derogation of the monopoly in the 1680s was a fundamental catalyst for expansion. These figures actually suggest a greater incremental increase during the latter half of the seventeenth century than in the following one when Atlantic trading conditions were even more propitious. Comparing the details from an analysis of two maps of the town, surveyed at either ends of the century, several apparent contradictions are evident. One is dated 1609 (B.N. Paris, 1702 reproduced by Fernández Cano, 1973) and the other, entitled, Plan de la Ville de Cadix was drawn in 1703 by Cornillon (Calderón Quijano et al., 1978). Together they raise even more questions relative to the population tallies and the size of the settlement as depicted on the maps. Both surveyors concur regarding the startling progress of the fortifications; they also show that probably less than twofifths of the entire walled area was urbanised. It would have been impossible for such a minute urbanised area to house some 41,000 residents. It is clear that considerable physical expansion transpired through the efforts of the Cabildo, such as the creation of the additional district Nuevo Mundo, later called La Viña and, by then, the barrio of San Antonio was well developed. Even so, it is hard to see how the built up area shown on the plan would have housed so many people (see Figure 4.4). Other scholars concur that by the end of the seventeenth century, at least two-thirds of the area within the walls was urbanised (Bustos Rodríguez, 1990; Ruiz Nieto-Guerrero, 1999).

Figure 4.4

Cádiz: Density of population. Adapted from Ruiz Nieto-Guerrero, 1999

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Strong inward migration from the 1680s onwards helps to explain the astonishing degree of positive natural population change. To illustrate this point, a sample analysis of the origins of brides and bridegrooms just after mid-century indicates that 18 per cent of the males and 44 per cent of the females came from the town and province of Cádiz. The remaining provinces of Andalusia supplied 25 per cent of the males and 21 per cent of the females. From the other provinces of Spain came a further 27 per cent of the males and 15 per cent of the females and other countries supplied 30 per cent of the males and 20 per cent of the females (Bustos Rodríguez, 1995). In the eighteenth century, the numbers of outsiders, foreigners and immigrants from other parts of Spain living at Cádiz, progressively increased until the end of the century when foreign immigration began to drastically decline. The 1680s then witnessed the most resolute period of population growth marking the start of Cádiz’s substitution for Seville as premier peninsular hub of trade (see Figure 4.2). Within the walled area, two axes guided urban expansion, namely that of La Calle Nueva and another that stretched from the barrio of Santiago; both axes converged on the newly constructed Plaza de San Antonio, soon becoming a much sought after residential zone (see Figures 4.3 and 4.4). Around this plaza, some of the most attractive residences were erected where height, the presence of many windows, balconies and delicate cast-iron work were new hallmarks of affluent inhabitants. By then, La Calle Nueva had emerged as the leading commercial thoroughfare. Many of the thriving merchants built their houses overlooking the harbour in the barrios of Angustias, El Pilar and, as mentioned, around the impressive Plaza de San Antonio, which soon won recognition as a district in its own right (see Figure 4.3). An administrative, distributive and supply centre emerged in the barrio of La Corredora. Here was the governor’s residence and the jail and the hospital of Los Hermanos de San Juan de Dios, the municipal grain store and granary. Given its strategic location, Cádiz came even more to be considered as a plaza fuerte [fortified settlement] and a presidio [garrison]. The arsenal of La Carraca was expanded across the bay beside San Fernando (see Figure 4.1). La Corredora also discharged some key military functions; it was the site of the principal municipal warehouse and of several large barracks. Enormous efforts, not unsurprisingly, were made to improve the defences during the seventeenth century. Investment in this enterprise was cyclical and shorter periods of frenetic construction activity were punctuated by longer periods when finance was not available; work simply stopped (Calderón Quijano et al., 1978). In the earlier part of the seventeenth century, the eastern part of the peninsula, where the port was located, was more urbanised. It also had the best defences, including a suite of most robust bastions, platforms and high and stout walls along the waterside. They ended on the south with the sturdy Puertas de Tierra protecting the settlement from landward assault (see Figure 4.3). For centuries, these commanding and monumental defences formed a crucial fixation-line and remain perhaps the most emblematic structure of the urban ensemble (Fernández Cano, 1973). The western side, facing the ocean [vendaval], had poorer defences. The wall was not continuous and a series of well-armed forts provided protection. By the early 1700s, the walls, on the western side, of Cádiz were completed. The first proper quay to be erected at the port of Cádiz was constructed in the early 1620s. Then there were several ‘harbours’ in operation. To begin with there was El Puerto del Mar, which acted as the principle port area, and here key warehouses were located, including one where forfeited contraband was auctioned. Beside it was another smaller port whose entrance was known as La Puerta de Sevilla. The inner harbour of the Bahía de Cádiz was known as La Ensenada de Puntales, where foreign ships and sailors had to dock and disembark. To enter this part of the bay, ships had to pass through well-defended narrows. This sheltered, well-protected zone was an ideal roadstead

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

for over-wintering. Here, too, was the naval complex and arsenal at La Carraca where ships could be built, fitted out or repaired (see Figure 4.1). Detailed reconstruction has confirmed that by 1709, the urbanised area had expanded considerably (Ruiz Nieto-Guerrero, 1999). In 1645, a padrón noted some 92 isletas; by 1709 their number had risen to 201. In that year, 60 per cent of the intra-mural area was built up while some 53 hectares remained for potential expansion (see Figure 4.3). In all, over the same period, the urbanised area actually expanded by 50 per cent when most other settlements on the peninsula were shrinking, Madrid excepted (Ruiz Nieto-Guerrero, 1999).

Seismic expansion and maturation Over the remainder of the eighteenth century, the plethora of cartographic and local demographic sources allows detailed understanding of this phase of expansion to be achieved (Calderón Quijano et al., 1978 ; Cortés José, 1996; Fernández Cano, 1973). Military, strategic issues and the presence of many foreigners made fortification and surveillance essential (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004). Among the most outstanding plans, the following can be counted: Picot (1707), Bellin, (1711), Beaurin (1710), Anonymous (1724), El Marqués de Verbon (1724), Anonymous (1730), Antonio Gaver (1764), Juan Cavalerro (1772), the excellent urban model of Alfonso Ximénez (1777–79), reproductions of which have been recently published (Bonet Correa, 1991; Ruiz Nieto-Guerrero, 1999). The anonymous plan for 1730 is one of the most valuable (Calderón Quijano et al., 1978). It locates some of the essential institutions such as La Casa de Contratación, La Aduana and El Consulado. In addition, many architects’ and engineers’ drawings have also survived enabling detailed analysis (Capel Saenz, 1983). In order to instigate any major development, a promoter had to seek the assent of many agencies including the Cabildo, Junta de Fortificaciones, Consejo de Guerra, and the Consejo de Castilla as the crown representative. The establishment in 1727 of La Real Junta de Fortificación marked an important departure for the future development of the settlement. Manned mainly by military engineers, it was to have a determining influence on the development of the lands controlled by the crown and the military (Fernández Cano, 1973). It was responsible for the demarcation of los cordones, which were the agreed lines for urban expansion. It usually worked in harmony with the Cabildo and two of its regidores usually sat on the Junta. On other occasions, it acted on its own, as in the example of its formulation of plans to develop the barrio of San Carlos. The burdens of responsibility, however, impelled both agencies to work in synchronisation, so as to ensure that licences sanctioned by the Cabildo for buildings would not conflict with military or sanitary considerations. Strategic necessity often allowed bureaucratic red tape to be quickly sidestepped. One of the most formidable construction achievements during the eighteenth century was the erection of an immense cathedral, started in 1722. Its realisation reflected the buoyant economic conditions of the times. This monumental edifice, which dominates the skyline, was effectively embedded into existing defensive structures beside the sea. It was completed in 1838. Other important building initiatives completed during the eighteenth century were the Escuela Superior de Ingeniería (1760) and El Hospital Real (1760), and numerous military buildings including stores, warehouses, barracks, arsenals, magazines and munitions depots were built (Fernández Cano, 1973). The town hall was sited in its present position in the Plaza de San Juan de Dios by the end of the sixteenth century and the present structure was erected in 1799. The construction of a new Aduana in 1770 marked the start of a mature phase of commercial buoyancy and economic self-confidence. The parish structure was re-organised during the late eighteenth century (see Figure 4.5).

Cádiz and La Bahía de Cádiz

Figure 4.5

99

Late eighteenth-century parishes. Adapted from Larrio Oñate, 2000

Some of the merchant’s palaces – Casa-Palacios – trace their origins back to the late seventeenth century, such as the one known as El Almirante, erected in 1685 (Carrasco González, 1996). Many monasteries and other ecclesiastical buildings were extended and embellished during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, often on foot of generous patronage from some of the merchants. For these reasons, they must be some of the most eclectic urban structures; many have mixed styles and adornments inspired from elsewhere. Santa María church boasts of a fine series of Dutch tiles, for example, and the pulpit at the convent of Santo Domingo was custom-made in Genoa. Other buildings such as the oratory of San Felipe Neri are gems in themselves, testaments to the once-available oceans of patronage. Unlike most other plazas, the austere but elegant Plaza Mina and Plaza Candelaría are post 1833 (see Figure 4.3). They were developed after important church properties were expropriated (Solà-Morales Rubio, 1982). Older plazas were re-modelled in the eighteenth century, often with the addition of luxurious new houses as at La Plaza de San Antonio. Here new and better access was provided with the construction of La Calle Ancha, which soon acquired the reputation of being one of the most vibrant commercial streets and one of the most sought after residential addresses. Commercial success engendered a construction fever, which gathered pace during the eighteenth century and which came to be expressed in an exquisite portfolio of civil, domestic, military and religious architecture. Emblematic of this phase was the erection of many torres miradores. They were usually square towers, attached to the houses of the wealthy. They overshot roof levels and provided residents with splendid views of the port city and ships in its vicinity. Their locations represent a crude mirror of the distribution and concentration of power, possessions and prestige in late eighteenth-century Cádiz (see Figure 4.5). Their size and dimensions were a statement of the

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

influence, power and prosperity of their owner (Bustos Rodríguez, 1988). In this way, they could be regarded almost as secular steeples whose bulk and dimensions reflected business triumphs. In reality, most were follies in every sense and some diminutive ones were no more than simply token replicas. Others had enormous proportions and some, such as the Torre de Tavira, were real towers built up from ground level. This particular tower was converted, in 1778, into the principal port management centre. Some towers simply protruded one or two levels or floors above roof heights. Constructed between 1738 and 1745 by a Greek merchant, the enormous and iconic Casa de Las Cuatro Torres, boasts of a matching set of four graceful towers.

Defence and the port Over the centuries, different military engineers and architects have had a disproportionate influence in creating a magnificent portfolio of buildings in Cádiz. Individually and together, they are intriguing texts that have made the port city such a major architectural reserve. Rich merchant families used their established networks to attract artists, artisans and designers, particularly from Italy, and especially Genoa. The engineers had their local academy (Capel Saenz, 1983). The late eighteenth century governor, O’Reilly (1780–86), founded the Academia de Cádiz as a vehicle for improvement (Torres Ramírez, 1969). The results are evident throughout the port city, especially in the colossal suite of defences at Las Puertas de Tierra, which acted as a fixationline for centuries (Fernández Cano, 1973; Whitehand, 1967). The upper echelons of the military were often accommodated in excellent buildings, such as the residence of the military governor at Candelaría originally designed as a barracks for military engineers, which was opened in 1760. Beside them were the older and often remodelled barracks of La Bomba and La Artillería. By making such continuous massive investments, the defences of the city emerged into a mature phase during the eighteenth century (Bonet Correa, 1991). In 1717, the office of Intendente General de la Marina was created with its headquarters at Cádiz. For a while, one individual, José Patiño acted as its chief delegate and he worked as president of El Tribunal de la Casa de Contratación. This alliance symbolised the fact that Cádiz was both the chief and exclusive trading hub and the prime naval centre on the peninsula (Crespo Solana, 1996). It acted as the formation centre for military officers of all kinds who transferred their skills to the colonies abroad, for example, to Havana and Veracruz (Torrejón Chaves, 1995). To service the needs of the military and naval authorities, a costly and inspiring infrastructure was erected at Cádiz and around parts of its Bahía. One of the transcendental decisions of the Bourbons was to locate a major arsenal and shipbuilding centre at La Carraca sited deep in the Bahía de Cádiz for its own protection (see Figure 4.1). Cádiz’s isolated location obviated the cost involved in erecting additional defences to protect it, but it hastened the onset of other difficulties (Barros Caneda, 1989). Given that La Carraca was itself sited at some distance from Cádiz, the office of La Intendente de la Marina was moved to the Isla de León in 1769, and in 1813, this island now connected to the shore was re-baptised with the name that it now bears, San Fernando (see Figure 4.1). Over the same period, other sections of the Intendencia were moved to Puerto Real, as, ironically, its headquarters at San Fernando had no harbour. The three innovative docks at La Carraca were constructed between 1784 and 1788; an extra one was added in the next century and a testament to their success was that they were in use until quite recently. Nearby, on the Trocadero channel, merchant marine outfitters and repair installations were sited (Castro, 1896). La Carraca never was the success that it was designed to be; it has acted, for centuries, as one of Spain’s key naval repair stations (Barros Caneda, 1989). Docks, moles, piers and other harbour improvements, especially after 1750, became even a more urgent priority after many of the fortifications had been strengthened. Despite their general

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absence, it was the premier port on the peninsula for more than a century. Notwithstanding endless plans and much cartography, Cádiz remained, at the dawn of a new century, dismally provided with port facilities. Only a handful of boats could dock simultaneously on its sole confined pier and most cargoes had to be off-loaded to lighters, which ferried them to the quay. It was only towards the end of the nineteenth century that these deficiencies came to be resolutely addressed.

Commercial hierarchy Most of the peninsular commercial elite active at Cádiz between 1743 and 1778 came from Andalusia, totalling to 42 per cent of the matriculated merchants (Ruiz Rivera, 1988). These were the individuals licensed by the Consulado to trade with the colonies. Of that number, 29 per cent originated in the province of Cádiz. The Basque Provinces supplied 15 per cent and from Old Castile came a further 14 per cent. These estimates remain provisional and have been severely challenged (García Baquero González, 1990). Research has confirmed that there were smaller numbers of cargadores trading with the colonies without holding any such licenses (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004). We know much about many of Cádiz’s merchants, so it is possible to establish how meaningful gradations may be recognised within the more influential merchant group: Los cargadores de Indias. In Castilian Spanish, we have to deal with three categories: un comerciante, un mercader and un cargador (Ruiz Rivera, 1992). However, any one of these could discharge all three functions and also own (a) warehouse(s) or merchandise, or ships or all, or several, of these elements. Some also invested in the outfitting of ships so that they could reap rewards on their safe return. One authority has asserted that the most effective means to classify this awkward group is on the basis of volume of trade handled by them, the exact type of trade managed by them, whether they employed others or, acted themselves as intermediaries between the buyers and the sellers of the commodities that they handled (Bustos Rodríguez, 1995). An inventory of goods shipped by one merchant from Cádiz in the early eighteenth century is revealing in this regard. Blas de Madrona shipped out, 8,636 boxes of general merchandise, 121 cwt of wire, 95 cwt of pepper, 52 barrels of aguardiente, 72 arrobas of wax, 200 dozen pieces of lace and 65 special items (García Baquero González, 1976). Other ship’s manifests are identical. All the evidence rotundly confirms that most of these people were general merchants who combined this kind of operation with whatever other activity they could finance at a given moment. The hallmark of this heterogeneous group was their lack of specialisation. Indeed, agent or cosignatory might be a more apt label for them. Nevertheless, in reality, they were more than mere intermediaries. Foreigners were absolutely prohibited to trade directly out of Spain with the colonies, as were foreign companies (Domínguez Ortiz, 1946). As always, the law and reality were two different elements. Consequently, it appears that many members of the merchant class were trading ‘on commission’ for foreign interests and some business records that have survived seem to confirm such a stance. Barred from colonial trading, external merchants could be major players behind local ‘straw men’ [hombres de paja]. Deceit and obfuscation in trading practises in the past are difficult to recognise: today they are equally impossible to unearth; consequently, it is not feasible to measure accurately the scale of foreign involvement ‘from behind’. The leading members of this transoceanic trading group, both foreign and national, were a class apart. Middle class would not be a suitable categorisation for them. Many of their numbers were both very rich and highly educated. Others might prefer the term commercial bourgeoisie, but again, this is a term that does not capture their essence or ethos. Many made fortunes. Once

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achieved, they often opted out of commercial activities and invested in rural or urban properties. They often aped the lifestyles of the nobles and sought marriage alliances with them for their offspring. They decorated their residences luxuriously, more often with a patent lack of style and taste. Contemporary observers noted these developments; they lamented the absence, within this group, of consistent entrepreneurship and dedicated risk-taking. For these reasons, it is evident, that they were short on cohesiveness as a class and carried little political influence. The foreign merchants were different. Many eventually assimilated, others fled even before it was evident that economic contraction was going to be a long-term fact of life (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004). Cádiz’s resident group of foreigners increased significantly during the eighteenth century. In 1709, it topped 9 per cent of the total population, while in 1714, it exceeded 13 per cent. By 1773, it reached its centurion apogee at 15 per cent, falling afterwards to 11 per cent in 1787, yet rising again to an all time high of 17 per cent in 1801. However, migratory behaviour varied among the different naciones or different ethnic elements. The Irish element, for example, reached its crest by 1773 and fell thereafter, both numerically and as a proportion of the total number of foreign traders. By any account, these figures are very high and they must represent the greatest number of foreigners resident in any Spanish city of the day – a figure not exceeded until our own day by resident sun-seeking expatriates. What proportion of these foreign residents were merchants? In 1762, there were 153 foreign merchants and 218 Spanish ones; the figures for foreigners for 1773 were 386 and for 1791, it was 510 (Ruiz Rivera, 1988; Bustos Rodríguez, 1995). A major increase of foreign merchant inmigration happened in the second half of the eighteenth century. Research appears to seriously underestimate the numbers arriving if the sole example of the large numbers of Dutch and Flemish arrivals is taken into account (Crespo Solana, 2001). The even larger inward migration flows of foreigners and nationals associated with other occupational groups remains to be explored. Four different ethnic elements were critical here, the French, the Irish, the Italians, and the Dutch and Flemish. Of these, the French were dominant. They were the most numerous and they stayed at the top of the league for a long time in terms of the amount of trade they controlled (Ozanam, 1968). They were followed closely by Italians, the longest established trading element settled in Cádiz. Most of them could trace their origins to Genoa (Sancho de Sopranis, 1939). Then there were a solid group of Irish refugees and just a few English. The Irish were gathered into the English nación; nevertheless, they controlled it (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004). In spite of numerically trailing the French and Italians, the per capita income of the matriculated Irish merchants headed the league (Lario de Oñate, 2000). For the purpose of trading, foreigners were grouped into naciones, each of which elected its own consul (Collado Villata, 1991). He was the link with the Consulado, which issued commercial matrículas or licences to trade (Ruiz Rivera, 1988). There were other nations represented, including Danish, Portuguese and German, their total never summing to more than 10 per cent of the resident foreign merchants. Cádiz was the premier south Atlantic European hub for a range of foreign groups, especially the French, Genoese and Irish. Smaller numbers of Irish traders were scattered around the ports of the Bahía, chiefly at El Puerto and especially at Sanlúcar. There were also small but significant communities located further afield, at Huelva and Lisbon, as well as at Gibraltar and Málaga and on the Canaries, outports of Cádiz (Guimerá Ravina, 1985). In turn they were connected to other Irish collectives in many French ports (Cullen, 2000). From the 1720s, there was a gradual increase in the number of inmigrants arriving at Cádiz. The majority of these new arrivals came from elsewhere in Spain and principally from Andalusia. Many foreigners arrived as well (Crespo Solana, 2001). Most of the French and Italian inmigrants were poorly skilled; many worked as cooks and servants, and some worked as independent artisans. The Irish and to a lesser extend the Flemish were different – many were bookkeepers and scribes. They

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were recorded as dependientes in local censuses or padrones (AHMC, 1773). An elite element counted some of the most prestigious and wealthiest houses at Cádiz. None of the Irish residents in 1773 acted as servants. This was not the case with members of other naciones. The households and residences of the merchant elites were often spacious. Many founded their own limited trading companies. As noted already, because of the shortage of space and inflated property prices, both servants, the slaves – if any – and those working in commercial administration all lived under the one roof. In this way, office and residence was combined, sometimes producing household complements, in extreme instances, of more than 16 inhabitants (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004). Profession, occupation, or its absence, was a discriminating filter of residential location preference in eighteenth-century Cádiz. The cusp of the Irish merchant elite, for instance, lived in the comisarias of Angustias, Candelaría and Pilar. Others lived in Ave María and Rosario, which were located deeper in the city, near the port (see Figure 4.5). Most of the Irish and other foreign artisans lived in so-called casas de cuerpos, where Spaniards were also resident (this colloquialism refers to bodily congestion: houses of bodies). The destitute members of foreign inmigrant groups, especially sailors and soldiers, lived in run-down housing, especially in the zone around Las Puertas de Tierra (see Figure 4.3). It is evident that the merchant elite was a group apart; marriage and trade alliance allowed them to build up and extend their family and trading networks. Most of the children of the Irishborn merchants, for instance, initially either married people of Irish descent, or more recent Irish arrivals. Otherwise, they married Spaniards or foreigners who had become naturalised. Why did they make these kinds of marriage choices? It is difficult to be certain, but it appears that in order to obtain licenses to trade and particularly to engage with the colonies, applicants would be best served by being matriculated by the Consulado. For entry, naturalisation was a prerequisite. Many followed this course (Ruiz Rivera, 1988). A minimum of 220 and a maximum of some 500 individuals belonged, over most of the century, to this matriculated group. It has been confirmed that the roll of membership needs to be interpreted with caution as some matriculated individuals at Cádiz, especially Spaniards, lived and worked out of other settlements (García Baquero González, 1992). For that reason, it appears that the identification procedures followed by some authors do not accord with the realities of the tally of resident members (Ruiz Rivera, 1988; Ringrose, 1996). Other Irish residents attempted to be admitted to a Spanish title because of their backgrounds and the designations they had held in Ireland. Proofs of their religious devotion and their benevolence were also vital tools to ensure rite of passage. Marriage of their children to native born also assisted them in their quest. Designed by the Spanish authorities as a means to prohibit undesirables from participating in colonial trade, these filters also accelerated the process of assimilation. Thus, in the early decades of the following century, as in the case of the Irish households, few casas or companies survived and even fewer retained close links with their homes and families. Yet, in their heyday in the 1770s, some of these ‘family’ companies maintained a global reach. In one instance, they traded with resident family members in the Canaries and Bilbao and further afield to Mexico (Guimerá Ravina, 1985). Others worked though other family members in England, France and Ireland and some maintained agents in Veracruz in Mexico and in Havana (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004). Where, then, did the Spanish merchant traders and cargadores de Indias fit in? It is a fact that they were the most numerous merchant group in 1773; there were almost 220 of them (AHMC, 1773; Bustos Rodríguez, 1995). However, their combined income was only slightly more than the total, accruing to some 40 Irish matriculated traders – let alone all the other foreign merchants. This means that foreigners handled most of the long-distance trade. Essentially, most of the Spanish

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comerciantes were wholesalers and retailers of local and regional origins and very few were involved in transoceanic trade. These divisions, however, were not so clear-cut. Some of those considered as foreigners by the authorities were in fact naturalised and others were the children of merchants who held Spanish citizenship. Whatever the case, it was this pivotal group of individuals who acted through the Consulado and the Casa de Contratación and whose activities and networks brought great prosperity to Cádiz. These people also controlled much of the shipping movements over the golden years; few of them, however, owned ships. In some instances, the origins of foreign merchant elements can be traced to their arrival as agents. Subsequently, they branched out as the owners of private companies. They seldom lost touch with the overseas companies who had initially installed them. In this way, the longestablished transoceanic circuits and networks were reinforced and extended. The Dutch and Flemish contingent at Cádiz certainly did not benefit from their ancient rivalries with Spain. However, this inheritance was balanced by the fact that they could link Spanish enterprise with one of the great financial capitals at Amsterdam (Crespo Solana, 2001). Also, Dutch and Flemish communities had been established for a long time in the major ports along Europe’s Atlantic and Mediterranean facades. Amsterdam, like Antwerp before, was a port city for all seasons (Emmer et al., 1992; Suykens and Asaert, 1986). Amsterdam was more than just an entrepôt. It was a centre of depositing, of warehousing; it was a centre for capital and finance and a centre of manufacturing, production and transformation. It was a hub for deals, loans and commercial savoir-faire. It was also a crucial shipping node as well as a place for purchasing or chartering vessels. No wonder that it was so well connected to Cádiz. As noted, textiles produced mainly in Holland and Flanders were shipped in torrents to Cádiz and most were then trans-shipped to the colonies. Spices, especially cinnamon and cumin from the Orient, made their way from Amsterdam in large quantities to the dining rooms of Cádiz (Emmer and Gaastra, 1996). The Dutch also manipulated trading regulations at Cádiz to their advantage; for instance, some Dutch merchants landed tobacco from the colonies, sold it and shipped it on to Amsterdam, despite that the crown theoretically controlled all aspects of the tobacco trade (Crespo Solana, 2001). At Cádiz, the Dutch ‘houses’ managed most of the importation of textiles from their own country. They also gathered products from the western Mediterranean, such as fruit, raisins and wine, and sent them northwards as far as Russia. In addition, they acted as conduits for commodities coming to Cádiz from all over the Baltic. Exotics of all kinds came from Amsterdam to Cádiz to be redistributed all over the peninsula, the Mediterranean and the colonial world (Crespo Solana, 2001) and the commodities on the move included, gum arabic, tar, mohair and camel hair, incense and ivory. From a Dutch perspective, Cádiz was a satellite for Amsterdam. It served as an ancillary financial centre and, even more crucially, as a place where commercial information about commodities and markets could be assembled and relayed back to Amsterdam so that merchants could make decisions about trading strategies (Crespo Solana, 2001). The Bank of Amsterdam, founded in 1609, soon became a formidable and influential institution and it often made decisions concerning which commercial enterprises deserved support.

Mid-eighteenth century Cádiz: What does the Catastro tell us? Here it is appropriate to consider briefly the nature of the occupational structures that emerged in mid-eighteenth-century Cádiz given the wealth of material available in the Catastro in 1753 and local municipal padrones (García Baquero González, 1990; O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004). There

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was also the valuable Censo de Ensenada of the same period (Grupo 77, 1977). Estimates of the population of Cádiz for mid-century were, 44,000 for 1750, rising quickly to 51,000 only five years later. El Vecindario de Ensenada, conducted in 1759, records 9,565 vecinos and 277 secular clergy. Of these, there were 7,650 vecinos útiles [able-bodied men], 44 jornaleros [day labourers], 124 pobres de solemnidad [humble poor], 998 poor widows and there were a further 749 residents born outside Cádiz. Local archival data generally tally with contemporaneous national censuses: the Censo de Aranda of 1768 records a population of some 65,000 while that of Floridablanca for 1787 returns 72,000 residents for Cádiz. A multiplier of five has been suggested as best fit in recognition of the presence of a substantial number or servants at Cádiz (García Baquero González, 1990). Not alone were they a symbol of large families; they were a sure testament to affluence. Is it possible to acquire from an analysis of the Catastro, the archives and other sources some insights into the class and occupational structures that prevailed in mid-century Cádiz? Employing a modified version of social categorisation, some observations can be provided on this subject. The categories chosen for this exercise are as follows: Nobles, Professional, Intermediate, Skilled, Semi-skilled and Unskilled. With this categorisation, as with any similar schemes, there are bound to be robust objections and demanding criticisms (Iglesias Rodríguez, 1992). An adapted version known as Respuestas Generales of the Catastro de la Ensenada for Cádiz, upon which this examination is based, carries some general and particular problems of interpretation; these include the number of nobles and the issue of occultation. Noble is a category mentioned by the Catastro and other sources, in Spain; it was an inflated group with some 800,000 in 1750 (Vilar, 1982). Nearly everybody noted in the census of the same time in the Montana – the province of Santander – was recorded as noble. In Cádiz, the situation is reversed. The nobles were an elusive and puzzling group. Their names were only related incidentally as patrons, leaseholders and owners of utilities. Their number is unknown. There were undoubtedly few, but they were disproportionately powerful. An explanation of their apparent absence derives from an analysis of the local cadastral archival documents where correspondence indicates that some of the census officials were effectively covering up or disguising the vast riches of the leading members of the commercial classes (García Baquero González, 1990). As in Seville, the nobles were utterly distinct from the richest merchants and their wealth derived from property, rents, leases and the sale of agricultural commodities. The 1759 Vecindario de Ensenada mentioned above, records some 30 nobles in Cádiz, which seems to be a reasonable number. The vast majority of the population were returned as estado general or percheros, that is people liable for tax assessment and collection. In the end, the primordial purpose of the Catastro was the precise establishment of a taxable head count.

Occupational structure Nobles, then, should occupy the first position in our classification; circumstances noted earlier dictate their omission. Starting our categorisation is the Professional group, which incorporated successful cargadores de Indias. The Intermediate group includes all clergy, excluding bishops, dignitaries, cannons, abbots and superiors. Many other professions and those discharging advanced full-time municipal administrative functions can also be allocated here. The Skilled group also presents inherent difficulties as both masters and apprentices were sometimes recorded without distinction, even thought the Catastro confirms that at times they commanded different monetary returns. Mercaderes y mercaderes al por menor – medium and small-scale merchants, street sellers

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and shopkeepers – could well be placed in the third category; because of their heterogeneity, however, they have been allocated into a specific group contingent on their yearly returns. For instance, olive oil stockists fall into the third category, while flower sellers are placed in the fourth. At the other end of the scale were the homeless and los pobres de solemnidad whom the enumerators did not record. Some groups call for particular scrutiny. The clergy summed to less than 2 per cent of the total population, some 1,005 individuals; this proportion was average for Iberian urban centres of that time. The secular clergy made up a third of the number; 10 per cent were nuns and the remaining regulars were dispersed around nine separate monasteries. Collectively, the clergy account for c.5 per cent of the total urban economic taxable returns; their money coming disproportionately from urban rented property. Excluding the clergy, the active labour force was c.13,000 people out of population of c.51,000. This was clearly an underestimate. The unemployed and part-timers are unrecorded. From a labour force viewpoint, there is another major lacuna: the remunerated activities of women were largely ignored. In addition, the excluded and marginalised were not enumerated. Their numbers could have run into thousands in a port society inured to fraud and occultation. Our classification only refers to the active population (see Table 4.3). Table 4.3

Cádiz: Occupational groups (male only), 1753 Number Nobles/Professional Intermediate: without clergy : with clergy Skilled artisans Semi-skilled artisans Unskilled artisans Total male labour force

876 571 1,602 5,318 3,769 2,301

Per cent 6 8 39 29 18

13,886

Source: Data adapted from García-Baquero González, 1990

The Professional group was composed of the acme of the city’s educated and qualified specialists, such as doctors, lawyers and chemists. In this group, a handful of clergy are included, such as the bishop. An indirect measure of their wealth allows each some 57,000 reales. The rump of this group comprised the extraordinarily well-to-do merchants. Again, this is not surprising because Cádiz had now replaced Seville as Spain’s colonial commercial hub. The merchant group was divided into three categories by the enumerators of the Catastro. Those who concern us were the Comericantes por mayor including the Cargadores de Indias, the chief representatives of the Consulado, Casa de Contratación and their main agents. In all, there were 529 individuals, viz: Spanish, 285; French, 108; Italian, 49; Irish, 44; Flemish, 20; Damascenes, 17; German, 6. In order of wealth, the sequence was different. The French were foremost, followed by the Irish and some way back the Flemish. The Spanish were a very noticeable last, despite being the most numerous, accounting for 54 per cent of the total number of traders. Put in context, this was Spain’s premier group of maritime merchants; they accounted for just under 50 per cent of the taxable income obtained from this group in Spain and two thirds of the equivalent figure for Andalusia alone. The other types of merchants have been allocated to different occupational groups. In all then, this upper echelon of merchants represents effectively,

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at least, two thirds of Cádiz’s most powerful citizen group, that is excluding an unknown and relatively minute number of nobles. The second group is labelled with the not very satisfactory title, Intermediate. On average, they were five times less well off than the premier group. This group was also quite a heterogeneous group. It included most of the mercaderes de tienda abierta, such as those involved in the sale of silks, gloves, fabrics and textiles. In general, they were well off. A further 100 warehouse owners and traders were in this group. Many participated desultorily in overseas trade supplying silk, wine and wood. Some of the major traders in the port belonged in this group, as did the most skilled sea people such as the pilots. Another element in the category was the key administrators at the port, those in port-located companies and institutions and in the civil service, both municipal and state. A further component inserted into the Intermediate group were the teachers, interpreters, musicians and senior scribes. Their monetary returns were inferior to those of some of the other group members, but group members were then ascribed a special status deriving from their education. The residue of the group was composed of clergy whose material circumstances are unclear. The third category overwhelmingly comprised artisans; 3,152 people out of its 5,000 plus membership were enumerated as such. Woodworkers, where carpenters tallied to 60 per cent alone and counted for a third, were followed by leather workers and textile producers. There were also decorative artisans, many no doubt devoted to embellishing the city’s 3,000 houses. There were also a very small number of highly skilled artisans, some of whom were of foreign origin, who were engaged in decorating the most sumptuous residences and public buildings. Their wealth and status triggered their allocation to a superior class. What kind of artisans were there and how were they organised? We know from the city’s archives that most were members of specific guilds. There were 667 master artisans and 1,664 apprentices or officials. Calibrating those figures and applying a ratio to only those crafts where there were both master craftsmen and apprentices, the resultant figure was 3.5 apprentices per master. Nevertheless, here is a further problem. The term ‘official’ does not necessarily equate with apprentice. It could be that they were not mentioned, or that they were not paid and thus were not enumerated. Whatever the case, artisanal organisation in mid-eighteenth-century Cádiz was small scale. Most also sold their wares from their workshops-cum-residences. In all, it was a preindustrial enterprise. Also regarded as artisans were those conducting specialised food production. Here, there were confectioners, bakers, pastry makers, and millers, noodle makers, wafer-makers and chocolatemakers supplying the needs of all the city’s residents and further afield. Those involved in the sale of drink, food and lodgings make up another category. Medium-salaried merchants are here, such as all of those who sold food as well as lower-ranking scribes and officials with permanent positions. The semi-skilled were the second largest group within the city. They counted almost a third of the entire active population. Within this category, ordinary seamen comprised nearly half of the total followed by another 1,000 people engaged in full-time land transportation. Flour and fish sellers represented Comercio al por menor [retailing]; also there were those involved with the sale of coal and used clothes. Our final group is most unsatisfactory. It obviously fails at mid-century to capture the thousands of unskilled at Cádiz and its vicinity. That there were only 130 farmers and fishermen should come as no surprise, as the city limits were abrupt. The rump of this group was composed of servants; it counted some 55 per cent plus. Regrettably, the census does not reveal their gender and it strongly hints that we are dealing with men only. All those enumerated seem to have held permanent positions; part-timers may not have been counted. There were 50 jornaleros who presented themselves for hire in the plaza mayor each day and some 450 peones or unskilled labourers. The vast bulk of the unemployed probably was not included. However, we are examining a city at the height of its

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economic vitality and, it may well be that there were labour shortages, which could account for the small proportion allocatable to this category. Towards the end of the eighteenth century, the population exceeded some 80,000 souls. That was to be its peak. Analysis of parish population data for the last quarter of that century suggests a considerable fall in fertility when, simultaneously, the port city’s population was still growing. What evidence there is suggests that inmigration strengthened in that period (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004; Pérez Serrano, 1989). In 1792, a survey conducted on the condition of the residences of Cádiz concluded that some 65 per cent were assigned as class one or two, and class four houses were rare and were only to be found in three districts (Ramos Santana, 1992). This report is a testament to the contemporary nature of well-being at Cádiz on the eve of its precipitous economic subsidence (Bustos Rodríguez, 1995).

Residence, lifestyle and society There was a considerable mixture of housing types, each of which had clear spatial preferences. At the cusp were the already noted casas-palacios. Many of these residences were built over the period between the mid-seventeenth century and the end of the following one. Many of them are flanked by white marble door facades, often with fluted Doric or Tuscan pillars. The 1773 padrón provides explicit information regarding three distinctive types of residences (AHMC, 1773). It recognises single family residences, multiple family residences and finally casas de vecindad where there were many inhabitants. Single family homes were associated with the minuscule elite. Their ground floors functioned as stores and warehouses arrayed around a decorative patio whose centrepiece was often a pleasant fountain. A floor above served as office space. Because of the general shortage of space and high rents, many clerks and scribes lived-in, usually with their families, on the auxiliary second floor (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004). The primary second floor was the domestic realm. Servants, domestics and slaves were located on the highest floor. More prosperous and elaborate residences boasted of some form of torre mirador (see Figure 4.6). Multiple residences could serve as the homes of the artisans or the shopocracy. They came to be called casas de cuerpos. Here two families resided on each floor and warehouses were common on the ground floor, often let out to different clients by the property owner. At the other end of the spectrum, the casas de vecindad housed the other extremes of society and one instance summed to 29 families in one run down palacio. Most of the residences were blockhouses and each floor housed one or, more often two, families. Three or four stories high, these houses were characterised by their uniformity expressed in their street entrances, their height and other dimensions and their neoclassical designs. Ground floors could be dedicated either to commercial or domestic purposes. On some of the urban margins, houses were smaller, single-storied and as always flat-roofed. The area around Las Puertas de Tierra boasted of the greatest variety of land uses and house types and more land here was devoted to productive activities than elsewhere in the settlement (see Figure 4.3). The military dwellings, chiefly the barracks, were also characterised by neo-classical design influences forming a textual chapter outside the remit of this work (Fernández Cano, 1973). The commercial accomplishments of many residents was transformed and represented as a vast suite of elegant, often fustian ecclesiastical structures, garish houses and public buildings enlivened by lavish baroque and neo-classical decoration. Architectural and decorative styles from many other areas, especially Italy, revealed a port city with a global reach. Most of the urban fabric was organised into blocks [manzanas] or islas, or parcels [parcelas] and streets [calles]. A recent municipal inventory noted that a typical block had an average width of 50 metres and an average

Cádiz and La Bahía de Cádiz

Figure 4.6

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Torres miradores in late eighteenth-century Cádiz. Adapted from Bustos Rodríguez, 1990

length varying between 60 and 80 metres. In the older barrios, average block size was c.0.20 hectares, while on the outskirts they were slightly larger (see Figure 4.3). Viewed from above, most of the urban fabric is arrayed in neat order and it acted as an integral part of the city’s defences. Given the armoury of census data, especially the padrones for 1709, 1769 and 1773, taken in conjunction with some of the excellent plans and surveys noted already, it is possible to identify both the leading demographic changes and detailed morphological extensions on a block-by-block and street-by-street basis (Ruiz Nieto-Guerrero, 1999). Over the period from 1680 to 1709, 19 hectares were urbanised and added to the earlier tally of 80 hectares. To gain even further control over building and to enhance surveillance, the Cabildo divided it into comisarias in 1763. These divisions remained in operation until 1773 and were used essentially for the purposes of enumeration, management and surveillance. They did not coincide with the already established cuarteles. In each one, a diputado was appointed to ensure that municipal regulations were expedited within the letter of the law. Diputados were directed to ensure, for instance, that no building exceed 17 varas in height. Even today, looking down over the port city from the Torre de Tavira, it is evident that most of these regulations were rigidly enforced. In 1771, the influence of the Cabildo was evident in the implantation of a novel domestic waste management system modelled on that of Madrid and devised in 1761 by Sabatini (Sambrico, 1982). Different disposal systems were in place depending on the height of the residences; gravity dealt with the higher areas. The influence of the Enlightenment prompted the monarch Carlos III to order that a series of models of all the cities in his empire were to be executed. Cádiz is the only one that was completed. Alfonso Ximénez assembled it between 1777 and 1779. Military considerations were to the fore. Set out on a scale of 1/250, it covers an area of 25 square metres and is housed in the local museum. It depicts all of the principal morphological elements of Cádiz, its streets, leading public buildings,

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

defences, plazas, statues and its 19 churches and nine convents and many of its spectacular ficus trees (Alonso de la Sierra, 1995). It indicates the main axis within the walls; it confirms that when assembled, there was little space left within the walls for new housing. Apart from the cathedral, some church spires and the many torres miradores, most of the roofs were flat and of similar height. Regularity, compactness and congestion might be some of the epithets invoked to describe late eighteenth-century Cádiz. Expansion considerably slowed and came to a halt in the early years of the next century for reasons identified elsewhere (Ramos Santana, 1998).

Sanlúcar and El Puerto de Santa María and colonial trade The only other significant port in the Guadalquivir complex was the anteport of Sanlúcar de Barrameda. It was where the fleets first anchored on their return from the Indies. A Dominican friar, Pedro Beltrán, aptly captured its role in 1612: ‘it was an opulent port’, ‘the neck of Spain through which enters all sustenance … to the stomach, which is spacious Seville’ (quoted in Campos Delgado and Camarero Bullón, 1995). In the mid-eighteenth century, Sanlúcar, long passed its prime, was in 22nd place in the Spanish urban league. This was a league in which Andalusia was unmistakably the regional leader with Seville (2nd), Granada (4th), Málaga (5th), Córdoba (6th), Cádiz (7th), Écija (8th), Jerez de la Frontera (9th), Antequera (12th), El Puerto de Santa María (17th). Corunna, one of the largest ports to the north could only muster 51st position, but bloated Santiago was 15th, while formerly, opulent Burgos had plummeted to 42nd place. Sanlúcar’s location has mutated; from acting as ‘top of the throat’, it became a cul-de-sac when Cádiz was in the ascendant as the Guadalquivir and Seville waned. It is located on the southern side of the debouchment to the sea of the leading channel of the Guadalquivir. To its north is located the extensive and untamed Coto de Doñana, the marches and swamps of the braided channel of the Guadalquivir through which even today no road passes (see Chapter 3 above, Figure 3.1). Our friar Pedro Beltrán also cavilled at the curse of the port ‘just a little further inland everyone [who sails in] must encounter the dreadful sandbar which has thrown so many bars of silver into the depths. That infernal quadrille of rocks that stretches across the mouth, from one side to the other’ (Beltrán, 1612). It acquired the designation city in 1579 and it became the locus of the Captaincy of the Seas and Oceans of Andalusia in 1588, making it responsible for the security of the entire southern coast of Atlantic Iberia from Gibraltar to Ayamonte. Given its hinge location, it is no wonder that its residents played out a formidable role in the conquest of the archipelagoes of the Canaries and they were active too across the Atlantic: Havana was founded by one Diego de Velázquez from Sanlúcar. Because of its pivotal coastal and strategic location, it was subject to the attentions of many travellers. The Flemish painter, Van den Wyngaerde, has left a vivid pictorial impression of Sanlúcar from 1567 (Kagan, 1986). It depicts a town, viewed from the sea, dominated by a castle and a church with streets sloping gently down to the seafront focused upon La Plaza Baja. This was the commercial focus and the site for most shops and the most opulent residences. Above it was the less extensive and partly walled Barrio Alto. An anonymous plan of Sanlúcar in 1752 distinctly illustrates all the leading buildings and distinguishes between the cramped and evolved street pattern, the densely occupied Barrio Alto and the planned and spacious streets below along the waterfront. A report from the same time, when fortunes had changed for the worse, indicated that there were still many fine houses in good repair, many of which had individual cellars and grain silos, and they were occupied by, ‘rich, industrious and intrepid residents’ (Campos Delgado and Camarero Bullón, 1995). Most of the streets were in excellent repair and most were cobbled. In 1752, however, some appearances were deceptive;

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several of the towns c.1,800 houses were ‘ruined’. It had a population of some 15,000 and also some foreign merchants trading directly with the colonies (Campos Delgado and Cameraro Bullón, 1995). In 1787, the more accurate census of Floridablanca provided a record of 14,463 residents. A century earlier, in 1647, there were some 17,171 inhabitants and some 2,662 vecinos (Domínguez Ortiz, 1946a, p. 143). A muster made in 1692 yields 2,845 men, which sums to c.15,000 residents. Why did it lose a fifth of its population so rapidly? The ascendancy of Cádiz was a major negative factor, as was the drain on the male population through war and service at sea. Powerless to resist the demands of recruiting officers and increasingly unable to find work in Sanlúcar, many young men opted for service at sea as a passport to the colonies, where they aspired to freedom and enterprise. With its maritime climate, the término of Sanlúcar has always been able to sustain a great variety of exotic plants and shrubs besides nutrifying a diverse agricultural pastiche. Salt production was an age-old pursuit at Sanlúcar and in the mid-eighteenth century, the census recorded six local sites. Salt was produced here for export all along the coast of Atlantic Europe. These were important enterprises and the largest ones, which belonged to the monarch, produced annually some 64 million litres of salt most of which was exported. There were several other rudimentary facilities in the settlement utilised for the transformation of various produce; these included, six olive presses, six grain mills and 42 wine presses. There were four hospitals for the sick, 14 monasteries and 3 convents besides many small chapels. Its prosperity increased when it was able to unhinge itself from the influence of Seville, which coincided with the transfer of the monopoly to Cádiz. As a consequence of the successful development of viticulture in its hinterland, it did not experience the same fate as Cádiz (Maldonado Rosso, 1999). It substituted its residual colonial trade for a growing export of fortified wines to northern Europe. The Bahía of Cádiz boasted of a necklace of smaller ports and fishing centres since the early middles ages. Of them, El Puerto Santa María was one of the most significant. As was the case with Cádiz, the ‘Golden Age’ of El Puerto was the eighteenth century. The transfer of the fleets of the Carrera to the Bahía from the 1680s was the catalyst for seismic changes in its economic, physical and social composition. The most critical of these was the evolution and consolidation of a minute merchant class there. In this way, it was somewhat like Cádiz. It differed from Cádiz in as much as it was favoured with an exceptionally fertile hinterland, many of whose products found eager markets in the colonies. There can be no doubt that agriculture received an immense stimulus following on from the growth of El Puerto as a port that traded, directly and indirectly, through Cádiz, with the Americas. At El Puerto, the Catastro confirms that there were some 1,950 houses with some 3,700 vecinos, which should sum to a population of 16,500 in 1752 (Campos Delgado and Camarero Bullón, 1995). Local ecclesiastical tax lists [padrones] are usually more accurate and a population of some 19,000 has been estimated from these sources (Iglesias Rodríguez, 1991). Its commercial elite struggled to retain their primacy by diversifying their trading activities, which allowed El Puerto to grasp a new, if short-lived, lease of life. Locally produced agricultural products were still shipped out of the port. The larger merchant houses attempted to orientate port functions towards the role of entrepôt, re-exporting goods from a variety of sources (Maldonado Rosso, 1999). Thus, goods, especially from northern Europe – from England, France, Germany, Holland and Sweden – were landed, stored and then re-shipped into the Mediterranean while merchandise from Genoa went in the other direction. While the colonial trade did not suddenly vanish, it increasingly came to be less significant, its vestigial components being redirected to other parts of Europe. However, unlike other ports in the region, excepting Sanlúcar, El Puerto became the natural outport for the burgeoning viticultural complex at Jerez. This underpinned its prosperity through the nineteenth century and beyond (Maldonado Rosso, 1999). Throughout the nineteenth

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

century, the economic vitality of San Fernando and Puerto Real were more dovetailed into the commercial conditions at Cádiz.

Cádiz: Free trade and aftermath Trade did not suddenly plummet after 1776 when the monopolio was abolished. Instead, it initially substantially intensified (Fisher, 1985). In fact, before the end of the first decade of the next century, trade volumes were actually on a par with, or even exceeded – as they did in 1792 – the best years of the monopoly. It was not always a rosy picture. There were other disastrous years such as 1794 and in 1797. Nelson’s blockade of Cádiz occasioned immense commercial losses; there was a 50 per cent reduction in goods being traded. The following two years witnessed recovery. Yet, in the immediate years after its final relaxation, trading trends were extremely positive. Using 100 as an index, it has been estimated that between 1778 and 1798, exports grew to a figure of 403 while imports rose to a staggering 1,111 (Fisher, 1985). Even as late 1796, Cádiz had retained its maritime primacy, as 96 per cent of all imports from the colonies entered Spain through this port. However, later there were violent ups-and-downs, which ultimately sapped commercial confidence. These abrupt changes were the general tonic of the last decade of the century and much of the first decade of the new one. The result was an increased number of bankruptcies among both commercial companies and financial and insurance houses (Bustos Rodríguez, 1990; García Baquero González, 1972). There were other benchmark developments too in these years, one of which was the opening of American colonial ports in 1797 to neutral ships. This represented official recognition that Spain was no longer able to guarantee supplies to her overseas possessions. In this way, the abolition of the monopolio cannot be cited as the catch-all responsible for the dramatic commercial decline of Cádiz. A further body blow was the near total destruction of the Spanish navy at Trafalgar in 1805, which finally eroded Spain’s capacity to sustain large-scale transoceanic trade, or to protect its ports or ships at sea. Colonial animosity towards Spain’s policies resulted ultimately in the emergence of a host of new states, further diluting Spanish hegemony and the commercial primacy of Cádiz (Prados de Escosura, 1988). The outcome for Cádiz was severe economic, demographic and commercial contraction, which began in 1812 relentlessly nosediving to reach a nadir in 1843. It may be convenient to cite a series of external events and decisions as being the fundamental causes of the commercial decline of Cádiz. There were also internal contradictions, which included the failure of an efficient and early modern financial system to emerge and the high taxes levied by the municipal authorities on the movement of ships and their cargoes. The absence of a varied transforming and manufacturing sector was also important. A token example illustrates these problems. Many incoming ships deserted to Gibraltar where tariff regimes were modest. It is unwise, therefore, to attribute the sudden commercial decline of Cádiz solely to external origins. In summary, the foreland and hinterland of Cádiz remained relatively stable throughout most of the eighteenth century. One major departure was the growing importance of trade with the River Plate ports It is clear, however, that at present we only have a sketch of the nature and volume of re-exports to other European ports. Likewise, much remains to be accomplished in relation to the inward flows of commodities from European ports.

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Economic and urban re-orientation The causes of the commercial decline of Cádiz in the early decades of the nineteenth century have been already outlined. One of the major consequences was a rapid slowdown in construction activity and, for some time, no large-scale additions or extensions were added to the urban fabric. Despite the downturn in commercial fortunes, an 1862 municipal report noted that some 25 per cent of Cádiz’s 3,000 houses were occupied by single families, 55 per cent were divided into large flats and a further 25 per cent were casas de vecindad or the least commodious or salubrious type of residence (Ramos Santana, 1992). These data seem too rounded to be easily accepted. The loss of commercial vitality, out-migration and several epidemics of yellow fever and typhus helped to lower the population of the port. It reached its nadir in the 1830s when 56,000 residents were recorded. By 1900, it had climbed again to just less than 69,000 (Ramos Santana, 1992). Shipping movements at the port dwindled up to the 1840s; henceforward, they slowly recovered, especially after the River Plate ports began exporting leather and skins, and cocoa also came from Peru in growing amounts to Europe via Cádiz. In this way, old networks were re- animated; the remaining colonies and newly independent states progressively sourced most of their imports from outside Spain. In the 1850s, for example, 87 per cent of all exports leaving Cádiz went to other European ports and 59 per cent of all imports came from the same source. In other words, Cádiz’s main maritime vocation lay increasingly within the peninsula and with the rest of Europe, in spite of a modest growth in transatlantic commerce to such traditional ports as Havana and Veracruz. Many small and some larger shipping, banking and other commercial companies were established mainly by local merchants after the mid-1840s reflecting renewed confidence in maritime activities. Some of the established transatlantic companies were designed to carry emigrants rather than merchandise, such as the Ybarra company founded in 1843 at Seville. This period of commercial improvement was short lived. Renewed international decline in the mid-1860s, cut departures from the port by 53 per cent and entries fell by 72 per cent (Frax Rosales and Matilla Quiza, 1994). In 1800, Cádiz province accounted for 31 per cent of the total national register of boats. By 1845, Cádiz only accounted for 10 per cent of the national tonnage, placing it in fourth place in the league. The pendulum had progressively swung in the direction of the Mediterranean; Barcelona followed by Málaga and Valencia now headed the league in terms of tonnage registered, number of vessel registrations and the number of steamships. To add to the burdens of the port, its role as a national deposit for tobacco was extinguished in 1865. In the final quarter of the century, there was a slow but not a startling growth of maritime trade; the loss of Cuba in 1898 added a new nail to the coffin (Sáenz Ridruejo and García Martín, 1986). Over the century, Cádiz had lost its position as one of Europe’s premier Atlantic ports, becoming for a while a maritime warehouse for the redistribution of American goods to other ports around the peninsula and, finally, simply acting as a major regional port (Sánchez Albornoz, 1985). The number of port movements tells another story. Over 2,000 vessels arrived in 1874; by 1890 the figure had risen to 3,493, which underlies the fact that, despite its meteoric decline, Cádiz still remained a port of national consequence at the end of the century (Frax Rosales and Matilla Quiza, 1994). It was no longer in the leader pack having being replaced by Barcelona and seven other ports. Bilbao gradually assumed the mantle of leading Atlantic port and its industrial success, towards the end of the century, made its position unassailable. It even took on the leadership in most maritime departments, starting with shipbuilding, through tonnage to amount of cargo handled (Alemany Llovera, 1991). In 1875, more than four-fifths of the Spanish merchant marine were sailing ships. Of the 23 ships that exceeded 1,000 tons in the same year, 18 were steamships and 11 of them were registered at Barcelona; none were registered at Cádiz. Unlike at some other

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

ports, again, little investment in port facilities was made at Cádiz, in order to handle and attract these new merchantmen. The linking of Cádiz in 1860 to the national rail network offered some respite to a port that had experienced many severe reverses. It certainly helped to consolidate the fortunes of the city’s frail and modest manufacturing sector. It also helped to compensate for the almost total absence of port infrastructure, which did not materialise until well into the twentieth century. Its two docks and piers were totally inadequate and none were satisfactorily protected from the elements. Up to the mid-1850s, the port was managed from a series of wooden huts on the quays. Despite many debates, plans and years of protests, a breakwater was constructed in 1878 and one of the docks was enlarged to accommodate more substantial vessels (Torrejón Chaves, 1995). It was, by all accounts, a poor closing balance. Indeed, only in 1902 was an official Junta de Obras del Puerto established to manage the port (Ramos Santana, 1992; Alemany Llovera, 1991). Despite the increasing number of steam vessels calling at Cádiz, no major efforts were made to provide docking accommodation for these larger ships. Perhaps because commerce was the economic engine of the port city for so long, manufacturing took up a more subsidiary position. In various contemporary reports, the vast majority of the production facilities were small scale, family run, few had more than a score of operatives, investment was low and the technologies employed were, at best, traditional; at worst, they were archaic. Little of what was produced was exported outside the provincial boundaries. In 1864, there was a total tally of some 4,247 operatives engaged in production; of these, some 220 were involved in furniture production, noodle production absorbed 180 people and hat-making had a tally of some 170 workers (Ramos Santana, 1992). Recession in 1870 had cut this number back to 3,252 workers with an average of 25 per facility. Textiles provided desultory levels of employment, but the largest single work-force was active in the state-controlled tobacco monopoly that briefly employed some 4,000 workers during its mid-1880s heyday in its attractive and centrally located facility. It was the largest and most successful industrial employer in the port city. By 1904, its labour force scarcely exceeded 1,000 operatives. It was housed in the old Alhóndiga in 1829 beside the harbour. This emblematic building was first constructed in 1694 and is one of the few older commercial buildings that have survived. Paradoxically, despite acting as one of Europe’s premier ports for more than a century, Cádiz surprisingly lacked even a basic stable banking and financial sector to support all its commerce. Many of the small-scale facilities opened during the course of the nineteenth century were forced, through insolvency, to shut within years of their foundation. The port city had to wait until 1874, when the Bank of Spain opened an office, for a modern banking sector to emerge. Many more small financial houses and even more cargo and shipping insurance companies were active in the latter half of the eighteenth century. However, the life-spans of these facilities became progressively shorter, as is reported in the municipal archives, by the growing number of bankruptcies in the 30- year period between 1790 and 1820 in line with the port city’s slide into recession (Bustos Rodríguez, 1990, 1995; Crespo Solana, 2001). As at Seville, and unlike Amsterdam and Genoa, a banking sector commensurate with the diversity, intensity and range of its commercial activities never emerged at Cádiz. Trade was handled, sometimes by agents of commercial companies, whose headquarters were in other European port cities. These agents organised and managed many financial aspects of trade and Amsterdam often played a pivotal role behind the scene (Crespo Solana, 2001). Otherwise, resident and naturalised foreign merchants, as well as their Spanish counterparts, were deeply involved in organising trade chiefly on account. With such a traditional character, its incipient financial sector could hardly help to stimulate the emergence of industry or manufacturing during the nineteenth century, let alone before that. One of the leading results of the decline in colonial trade was a closer

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orientation by the port towards trade with other European ports (Sánchez Albornoz, 1985). Many new shipping companies, drawing upon local capital, were established in the post-1860 period. They were mainly dedicated to European and peninsular trade (Torrejón Chaves, 1995). Most were small and even more were short lived. Again, the merchants of Cádiz played their role as intermediaries. They supplied manufactured goods from elsewhere in Europe to national, regional, provincial and local markets. In addition, in the early 1840s, a textile-manufacturing sector developed almost out of nothing. Protected by a state-imposed tariff of 1841, the number of active looms reached 500 in 1845 from a figure of nil five years previously (Ramos Santana, 1992). Attempts were made to modernise the sector with the installation of mechanical looms in factory settings. By 1869, the largest facility of this type failed, leaving some 240 people unemployed. Attempts at mid-century to stimulate naval construction and engineering were equally fruitless, despite docking improvements at Matagorda and Trocadero (Alemany Llovera, 1991). Ship repair remained the primary activity in a few small shipyards. Later in the century, the naval yards at La Carraca built some capital ships for the navy. Contracts were episodic, so it was impossible to maintain employment levels and retain a skilled workforce (Torrejón Chaves, 1995). The only moderately successful venture was state-sponsored tobacco production.

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Chapter 5

The Atlantic Archipelagos While none of the Atlantic archipelagos ever acquired metropole status, they acted as outports of the leading peninsular entrepôts. This chapter confirms their roles as essential elements in the monopoly. It validates their functions as indispensable staging posts on most outgoing and few incoming voyages. It starts by pinpointing their roles in the emerging colonial economy and it confirms the importance of the sugar economy on the Canaries. Clear product cycles emerged on all of the islands at different times and it is confirmed that the monopoly was imposed with varying intensities. Given that these islands were less easily policed and regulated by the peninsular monopoly institutions, they developed an unstable port and urban hierarchy that helped, in turn, to weaken economic conditions. Free trade left them more isolated and they developed strong trading relations with the peninsula and far weaker ones with the Americas. By contrast, the Azorean islands of Angra, Horta and São Miguel were vital stations for returning vessels, while Maderia was sometimes visited by outgoing Portuguese vessels. Like the Canaries, the Portuguese islands enjoyed early product cycle prosperity. It was short lived. The emergence of La Havana as Spain’s leading Atlantic ship marshalling centre gradually sidelined the Azorean contribution to the Spanish Carrera.

The Canaries: Settlement and port development The Canary Islands were discovered and partly occupied by the Portuguese in the early fifteenth century, although they soon passed under Spanish rule (Fernández-Armesto, 1982). Their strategic position made them the last home port of call on the outward voyages of Discovery and subsequently on the Carrera de India. Subject to the rigours of the monopoly, they were located far enough out in the Atlantic to often escape from the straightjacket of this policy (Verlinden, 1966). Consequently, early economic prosperity derived from the profitability of sugar production and their roles as essential victualling stations for vessels buttressed the development of a number of modest port towns on the islands (Magalhães Godinho, 1955). Fresh water for an Atlantic crossing was a sine qua non, as was fresh or salted fish and meat. These provisions were vital for both the Portuguese and Spanish fleets that underlie the collaboration and the interdependence of both maritime empires (Chaunu, 1955–60). They were also key centres for ship repairs, being as well, if not better, equipped, than the port of Seville. In essence, early urban growth was connected with the vitality of Seville and the health of the Carrera de India, sailing and sugar. Gomera and Lanzarote also were key bunkering centres (Chaunu, 1983). Two such centres, namely Las Palmas and Santa Cruz de Tenerife quickly emerged as the key maritime transatlantic staging nodes of the archipelago, although these islands were the last ones to be pacified and settled (Lobo Cabrera, 1998). (Hereafter, Santa Cruz refers to the port on Tenerife and not to Santa Cruz de La Palma.) Las Palmas, founded in 1478, owes its origins to an initial military base gradually accreting religious and administrative functions.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Essentially, the Canaries became the hub of a complex series of maritime networks of triangular trade straddling the oceans. The Canaries had assumed their role as a junction long before this (Rumeu de Armas, 1956). They had acted as a vital staging post for centuries, linking the peninsula and the Maghreb; this trade declined during the early sixteenth century (Chaunu, 1983). Later, they assumed the role of a staging post for trade with areas south of the Sahara, especially for gold and slaves (Magalhães Godinho, 1984). Strangely, connectivity within the archipelago was poor. Over the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, some islands were better linked with the Americas and the peninsula than with each other, which was a sure indication of their ‘colonial’ condition. Trade winds and currents made return links from the Americas well nigh impossible; in these circumstances, the Azores took on that mantle. On the Canaries, considerable inter-penetration between Castilian and Portuguese was a long-term reality (Rumeu de Armas, 1976). On the outward journeys, the Canaries were a vital provisioning stop and in recognition of the fact, Portuguese migration to the islands was a constant. As an outer secluded bastion of an empire, it attracted many marranos [Christianised Jews who were still practising Jews] and new Christians, a development that the Inquisition on the peninsula barely tolerated. A maritime hub may have a portfolio of advantages; it may also carry its burden of problems; its ports acted as active epidemiological relay centres. Consequently, plague was a regular visitor and royal cédulas frequently aver to the need for doctors, pharmacists and surgeons. Recognising the exposed nature of the islands, early sixteenth-century La Laguna could even boast of three separate hospitals.

Early ‘colonial’ economy Sugar production on Gran Canaria flourished during most of the sixteenth century and it was this activity that helped to release the island’s economy from simple dependence on provisioning ships. Early in that century, Las Palmas could brag of having a small and varied resident merchant community (Bergasa y Perdono and González Viéitez, 1969). Wood was also a resource of some considerable importance for shipping and packing, and the degree to which demands for wood provoked island-wide degradation and desertification remains to be established. It was soon severe and by the end of the sixteenth century most of the damage was done. Some of the islands had an infamous reputation as places to which undesirables were attracted because of their isolated location and frontier ambience. Piracy, privateering, fraud, contraband and smuggling were all epithets associated with the archipelago, while their ports provided security in menacing seas. Merchants from Genoa, Florence, Malta, England, France and Flanders, as well as from Portugal, Catalonia and Castile, and many Jews and even moriscos were active from the early sixteenth century. Major markets for sugar included the Antilles, the port cities of the Mediterranean and Flanders. However, the early loss of some of the Antilles provoked a brief and sharp crisis (Morales Lezcano, 1970). By 1510, there were 1,589 household heads rising to some 2,224 at Santa Cruz by 1540 and 3,150 in 1587. Santa Cruz had less than 500 residents in 1552, and in 1588, a visitor noted only 200 houses there (Sanchez Falcón, 1964). Outside competition plunged sugar production into decline, especially during the final quarter of the sixteenth century, and by the end of the century it was history (Fabrellas, 1952). At the same time, the islands became major suppliers of wines to the American colonies. This successful enterprise brought merchants and the island authorities increasingly into conflict with the officials of the Casa de Contratación, whose goal was to painstakingly implement the rules of the monopoly, perceived on the islands as a subterfuge to strangle their economic success (Pérez de Ayala, 1977).

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However, Canary Island wines also found a ready market in northern Europe, especially in England, and producers did not have to rely exclusively on colonial demands. The monopoly was a vital ingredient regulating, more often suffocating, the rhythms of islandgenerated trade. The Casa de Contratación at Seville always sought to protect its hard won privileges: furthering these goals meant constant rivalry with the mercantile interests of Cádiz and the Canaries. Received wisdom at Seville identified Cádiz as a mortal threat. This fear subsided after the sack of Cádiz in 1596. Thus, if competition from the Canaries was not regarded as subversive, it was at least tolerated by Seville for most of that century. Bonds were closest with Santo Domingo, where considerable numbers of Canarios had settled and a small merchant community had been established. It was an island-to-island movement where little effort was required by the Canarios to adapt to sub-tropical surroundings. When the Canary–Antilles trade prospered, as it did between 1550 and 1575, Seville’s Casa de Contratación attempted to asphyxiate it and this goal was finally achieved in 1627 (Chaunu, 1983). Evidently the prospects for the port at Las Palmas were propitious in the early seventeenth century. It had its plaza mayor, its casa del cabildo, a fine cathedral, a bishop’s palace, a market, convents and hermitages, an active small harbour with a hinterland that covered both inner Atlantic and transatlantic realms and it also extended into the Mediterranean. Intense competition from Madeiran and Andalusian wines rather than the strictures of the Casa de Contratación finally prompted the decline of the Canary wine trade in the 1670s. In turn, this plunged much of the archipelago into economic decline, especially Las Palmas de Gran Canaria. Another process that helped to weaken the port-town during the seventeenth century was the gradual erosion of administrative functions and their constant relocation to other centres on the archipelago. Indeed, one of the cardinal characteristics of the urban hierarchy on the archipelago over the centuries was its chronic instability. This condition was a product of complex processes; these included raw material product cycles, a boom or bust economy and variations in the manner in which this monopoly policy was implemented and frequent relocations of state and regional functions between the settlements on the islands (Pintor González, 1945; Martín Galán, 1984). Still, the larger islands were more urbanised than many peninsular regions. In 1688, for instance, more than a quarter of the population of the island of Las Palmas, some 6,114 people, were resident in the port capital. However, over the period 1587 to 1688, population growth was slow. Santa Cruz was far behind with 2,491 and La Laguna had 6,994 residents and thus topped the league of island settlements (Murcia Navarro, 1975). In 1769, positions were reversed yet again: some 9,435 residents were recorded at Las Palmas and Santa Cruz came in third with 7,399. Santa Cruz, however, was able to assume top position by the middle of the following century as it had the best harbour, with a properly constructed, well-protected dock. The destruction of the port of Garachico in 1706 by an eruption removed a potential competitor. Since 1765, it was the only port permitted to trade directly with the Americas. It also became the principal port for inter-insular trade (Calero, 1979). Its only island rival was Funchal (Morales Lezcano, 1970). It was not until 1833 that Santa Cruz was declared capital of the archipelago (Perdono y Padrón, 1982). In spite of its clear advantages in 1802, La Laguna headed the urban league (9,672), Las Palmas was third (8,096) and Santa Cruz fifth with 6,889 residents (see Table 5.1). From the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries, the principal port towns of the archipelago engaged in profitable transatlantic commerce. This involved the re-export of manufactured goods, the export of raw materials and wine from the islands and the receipt and re-export of colonial imports. Inner Atlantic trade and Mediterranean trade were also long-standing dimensions of island commerce (Guimerá Ravina, 1985). Up to the twentieth century, huge volumes of people left the islands for the New World and migration was good for island shipping businesses (Lobo Cabrera, 1998).

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Table 5.1

1755 1769 1787 1842

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Canary Islands: Port populations, 1755–1842 Santa Cruz

La Laguna

Orotava

Las Palmas

1,229 7,399 6,063 7,822

2,077 8,796 7,222 6,376

1,917 3,386 5,770 8,135

? 9,435 9,820 17,382

Source: Jiménez de Gregorio, 1968; Madoz, 1845–50

Given their strategic position in the Atlantic, the Canary Islands offered the crown great commercial advantages; if these assets were to be realised, strict surveillance and enforcement of the monopoly would be necessary (Morales Padrón, 1955). In addition, some elasticity would have to be available so as not to emasculate the economy of the islands and make them unattractive locales for resident merchants. For these reasons, the historiography of the protocols regulating commerce on the Canaries illustrates the tensions between these conflicting perspectives (Morales Padrón, 1955). Indeed, over the centuries, the dictates of the monopoly and Seville’s Casa de Contratación were enforced with enormous variability (Chaunu, 1955–60). From the mid-fifteenth century to 1649 alone, three distinctive phases of monopoly execution have been recognised, varying from almost free trade conditions to rigorous imposition of restrictive tenets (Lobo Cabrera, 1998). They represented distinctive attitudes of the Casa de Contratación at Seville, which sometimes tolerated the participation of the Canaries in American commerce and at other times, as in the 1640s, it successfully achieved interdiction (Chaunu, 1955–60).

Trade during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries More than 25,000 pipas of Canarian wines were shipped to the New World from the second half of the sixteenth century much to the consternation of Sevillian factors. Between 1559 and 1598, more than 150 boats carrying wines sailed to these overseas markets. Four types of individuals were involved in trade with the Indies; there were the cargadores, econmenderos, socios and consignatorios. What came in, then, to the ports in return? Dyes, hardwoods and bullion were the principal arrivals (Ladero Quesada, 1974). It has been estimated that between 1570 and 1571 alone some 2 million maravedis of gold coin and 9 million of silver arrived, much of it as contraband (Gentil da Silva, 1967). Some of this wealth came to pay for the islands exports, most of it arrived furtively (Torres Santana, 1989). The presence of so much wealth helped to drive the productive enterprises on the islands and to entice foreign merchants to settle in the most active port towns. The scale of American trade during the second half of the sixteenth century has been estimated as being 41 per cent of the total island commerce (Rodríguez Yanes, 1998). Finance to support the shipping of cargoes from the Canaries was often sourced at Seville (Bernal, 1993). There is also evidence of a nascent banking presence on the archipelago (Otte, 1982). A list of boats leaving the main island ports between 1506 and 1513 identifies Cádiz and its adjacent ports, Funchal, Lisbon and the other ports of the archipelago, as being the main trading centres for short-distance shipping movements out of Santa Cruz (Fernández-Armesto, 1982). By the early years of the sixteenth century, Flemish and Florentine merchants had expressly settled at Santa Cruz to trade exclusively with Antwerp and Bruges. They mainly dealt with a range of island-produced commodities such as orchil, sumac, wax, cereals and primarily sugar (Fernández-

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Armesto, 1982).Wood also left in large quantities. Cloths of all kinds were the most valuable imports handled by these merchants from northern Europe. Merchants were quite dextrous; they were involved in the slave trade, they were financiers and moneylenders, and some were rentiers. For these merchants the ports of the Canary Islands had wonderful attractions; they were the only areas within the Reino de Castilla open to foreign traders. Besides the lucrative sugar sector, they could also participate in transatlantic trade as the archipelago had quickly emerged as a vital entrepôt between Europe and the Americas (Ciorenescu, 1962). Many drew good profits from the victualling of ships. Nevertheless, major problems stemmed from the manner in which the outward fleets were marshalled and from how monopoly cannons were enforced. Merchants often bitterly complained that they were seldom given warning about the dates of arrival of the outgoing fleet from Seville. Consequently, they had to pay for boats and crews that were effectively idle. The foresighted Felipe II, however, adroitly addressed this issue (Morales Padrón, 1955). Over the centuries, there were various modifications to the conventions governing the port of call by the returning fleet. Santa Cruz acquired this exclusive brief for an extended period, much to the consternation of the merchants of competitor ports (Morales Padrón, 1955). The startling success of the sugar sector and the fact that plague and enslavement had helped to reduce the ranks of the indigenous population rapidly provoked a labour shortage (Marrero Rodríguez, 1966). Merchants derived good returns by selling slaves to labour-thirsty enterprises (Lothar y Barreto, 1974). It is evident that all this commercial activity contributed to energising the economies of some of the islands and especially the principal ports (Verlinden, 1970). For a while at least, prosperity attended many ports. It is clear that in early free trade conditions the archipelago made a distinctive contribution to the formation of a transatlantic economy. It was an economy that linked the island ports with Spain and Portugal, with Africa and the Americas, with Brazil and the Indies and, northwards, with many other ports of Atlantic Europe (Chaunu, 1955–60). In the early seventeenth century, most of these colonies were in reception of manufactured re-exports from England and France, thereby allowing European production to extend its tentacles to Brazil and on to Peru. Portuguese trade to Brazil involving and using the Canaries as a platform was difficult to control and it was of some benefit to the archipelago’s economy (Chaunu, 1955–60).

Eighteenth-entury commerce Throughout much the eighteenth century, the Canary Islands, through her ports, played a number of vital roles, to the extent that merchants were permitted or could exploit the circumstances by engaging in contraband. Much of what came from Europe to the archipelago went onwards to the Americas. Significant quantities of colonial exports to Spain were landed on the Canaries and went on to northern Europe or to Cádiz. They also supplied especially England and the Americas with fine wines and orchil (Bellencourt Mossieu, 1991). Researchers have taken up different views in relation to the consequences for the islands of certain monopoly practices. Some have argued that the impact of the monopoly was to smother commercial initiatives and arrest the growth of the port towns (Cioranescu, 1977). Others have claimed that this permitted the emergence of a kind of ‘enclave economy’ at particular favoured ports that was disconnected from other areas (Morales Lezcano, 1966). Taking exception to these assertions, Hernández Sánchez-Barba (1981) has contended that the freedoms given to merchants allowed them to achieve considerable prosperity. Reality lies between these extremes. It should be noted that the monopoly was often a blunt weapon and that its strictures were

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

evaded, fudged or circumvented. In addition, it was a suite of policies that were often modified, or seldom enforced over long periods. The islands owned fleet during most of the eighteenth century consisted of c.21 transatlantic vessels with an average dead weight of 273 tons. Other merchantmen provided extra capacity (Suárez Granan, 1993). Complex regulations were in force, which set out to control what ships could carry. To judge from ships’ manifests, these rules were not always obeyed (Morales Padrón, 1970). Expediency forced flexibility when shortages threatened on either side of the Atlantic (Pérez de Ayala, 1977). Over the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, fundamental alterations were made not only in the number of American ports open to trade with the ports of the Canaries; Seville, later Cádiz, also dictated what could, and how much, might be traded (Viera y Clavijo, 1967). From 1718, the Canary Islands traded with America under the rubric of the so-called regimen de excepción. This endowed the islands with indefinite permission to trade with the Americas; there were major limitations (Morales Padrón, 1955). Merchandise was reduced to 1,000 tons; open American ports numbered only six and only certain items could be traded. Wines could be traded, manufactured goods and textiles could not; the rationale behind the rules was to shelter Cádiz’s merchants (Cioranescu, 1977). In 1610, Sevillian officials of the Casa de Contratación and the Consejo de Indias declared the following ports to be open to trade with the Canary Islands: Cartegena, Havana, Honduras, Islas de Barlovento [the Windward Islands], La Guiara, Nueva España, Rio de la Hacha, Santa Marta and Yucatán (see Chapter 4, Figure 4.2). These rules were modified in 1626 and 1650, and amplified in 1718 and 1729 and especially in 1765, culminating in the free trade decree in 1786. Santa Cruz de Tenerife was declared the island entrepôt for all of these transactions. Over the same period, the various tariffs and tolls levied on goods in transit were often altered, frequently making for a turbulent fiscal climate for merchant endeavour (López Cantos, 1979). The main eighteenth-century staples arriving in the ports of the archipelago included cocoa, hides and skins, sugar, tobacco and by far the most valuable item, bullion, much of which was contraband. Tropical items came in too, such as palo campeche. Leather came from the Antilles via Havana. Cocoa came mainly from Venezuela and was shipped from La Guiara and volumes arriving grew steadily, although much was re-exported to Cádiz (Aricila Farias, 1946). Many ship’s manifests have survived and they reveal the kinds of goods landed and the number of merchants involved in the reception of just one cargo (Morales Padrón, 1955). The Nuestra Senora de la Encarnación arrived at Santa Cruz in 1685, under the orders of Captain de Riverol, having sailed from Puerto Rico and Havana laded with just under 1,000 hides. This cargo was split up between 22 merchants. The Santa Rosa de Viterbo and the San Francisco Solano arrived in the Canaries in 1682 from Campeche and Havana. They carried more mixed cargoes, which were composed of 1,000 quintales of palo campeche, wax and henequen, all of which were passed on to eight different merchants, including the captain, and much of what was landed on the Canaries from the Indies was sent on to Cádiz. Between 1718 and 1779, some 600 vessels made that journey. Most of the boats involved in the Canaries to Cádiz run were Danish, Dutch, English or French and many were naval boats offering excellent security for the transfer of bullion. Also, most of the trade, including bullion transfer, was organised and financed by resident foreigners, and several of the most important trading houses were managed by Irish merchants (Guimerá Ravina, 1985). As surveillance was more difficult to expedite on the islands, foreign traders were able to circumvent local and monopolistic obstacles to their activities. Indeed, since the transfer of the monopolies’ regulatory institutions to Cádiz in 1717, foreigners came to play an increasingly prominent role in Spanish maritime trade. Few in number, many acquired vast wealth and several held leading municipal positions and titles, and in 1787, 55 per cent of the total complement was resident at Santa Cruz. The ever-changing cannons of the monopoly more often suffocated native

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merchant enterprises. Many merchants were involved in fraud and contraband. Sometimes captains who obtained a licence only to sail to the Canaries called there, but then hired a pilot and sailed across the Atlantic. Merchants were adept at altering the arenas of their activities should better profits beckon or new circumstances demand. The Santa Cruz-based Colgan ‘house’ had 94 per cent of its actives connected to the peninsular market between 1743 and 1749. Over the years 1753 to 1764, Europe accounted for 73 per cent, the peninsula accounted for 10 per cent, Anglo-America was next with 8per cent and the Indies came in at the end with with 7 per cent (Guimerá Ravina, 1985). The circuits of letters of exchange of major Santa Cruz merchants rotundly confirm that Europe was centre stage for Canary Island-based merchants. Few merchants on the Canaries during the eighteenth century were major stakeholders in colonial trade. When they did participate, the scale of involvement was reduced and it was often more speculative.

Port forelands If a detailed examination is made of the activities of some of the leading trading ‘houses’ active in eighteenth-century Santa Cruz, it is possible to identify the leading characteristics of the port foreland. Four principal arenas can be recognised: Europe, the Indies, Anglo-America and the peninsula riveted on the port of Cádiz. For one such ‘house’ in the second decade of the century, the port trading order was Genoa, St Malo followed by London. The Genoa connection stems, in part, from the well-established Genoese resident merchant community at Cádiz (Bustos Rodríguez, 1990). Canary-resident Genoese received payment for manufactured goods in the form of cocoa and silver. Like the French, they made up one of the richest and most successful foreign merchant groups at Cádiz. Given their excellent connections with French Atlantic ports, especially St Malo, which was also a major fish re-exporting centre, direct contacts between Canary ports and French ones were frequent. Added impetus was given to this trade by St Malo’s prominence as an Atlanticwhaling hub. A decade or so later, London headed the table with over 80 per cent of all transactions, Ostende had only 5 per cent. By the 1760s, London’s tally had fallen to 57 per cent; now it was followed by Hamburg with 20 per cent and Amsterdam, its most vital competitor, had 8 per cent. Another means of establishing the configuration of a port foreland is to identify the departure sites of boats coming to the island ports. In 1759, 21 per cent of Santa Cruz’s arrivals came from Cádiz, 20 per cent from London and a further 17 per cent from Amsterdam, Bristol and Hamburg (Guimerá Ravina, 1985). At the end of the century, over the years 1796 to 1798, Cádiz held its position while numbers from London fell, although this loss was compensated by increases from other English ports. In addition, 14 per cent arrived from the Antilles and Berbéria respectively and some 5 per cent from America. Perhaps the most noteworthy change to materialise over the period was the emergence of Hamburg as a rival to Amsterdam and London. The colonial ports of Havana, Caracas and Campeche in that order acted as the Canary Islands’ main transatlantic hubs. Merchants at Santa Cruz were involved in trading with these ports and engaged in a wide range of transactions, including the re-export of European manufactured goods from the Canaries to the colonies. They imported foodstuffs from there and they financed the circulation of goods of all kinds from within the New World colonies through networks of agents and intermediaries. French Louisiana, New England and the Caribbean colonies became other markets of minor significance for the leading Canary Island merchants. Wine exports accounted for 80 per cent of this trade to Anglo-America, re-exports of manufactured goods accounted for the rest. Berbería became a minor market of growing importance during the century, but the monopoly hub, Cádiz, remained the constant premier peninsular port of reference.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

This should not surprise us, as it was first the monopoly hub and many trading houses on the islands had agents in the ‘houses’ of Cádiz (O’Flanagan and Walton, 2004). Many of these ‘houses’ were connected through strategic marriage alliances. Detailed analysis of the books of one major ‘house’ has shown that merchants were involved in a great variety of financial transactions and legal accords to sustain their commercial agreements. The spreading of risk simply meant less exposure to major failure. Profits varied enormously for different commodity transactions, both over time and at their sources and destinations. For example, an Irish ‘house’ at Santa Cruz derived an annual profit of 33 per cent from two boats with general cargoes, whereas bullion exports only yielded profits of between 1 and 12 per cent; European trade led to constant minor losses (Guimerá Ravina, 1985). Overall, it was common for merchants to make an average annual 25 per cent profit on all the commercial work. Cereals, meat, fish and other foodstuffs often had to be shipped into the islands from northern Atlantic Europe, especially England and Ireland. Bad harvests were often a feature of life on the islands and when they coincided with war, a severe subsistence crisis loomed. Merchants were cajoled by the islands’ administration on several occasions during the eighteenth century to assist in the localisation of potential wheat stocks. Even more profitable for the merchants was the import of manufactured goods. Many of these products were re-exported to the colonies; others were sold to the wealthier elements of island society. Heading the league in terms of value were textiles of all kinds, principally coming from Amsterdam, Brest, Hamburg and London, as well as Ayamonte and Huelva. Processed foodstuffs came from Ireland, metal implements and wool from England; wax arrived from Berbéria, spices from Holland, porcelain from Italy and metal objects from Germany. Anglo-America also began to supply a wide range of goods. The church sought many luxury items and merchants supplied wine producers with the wherewithal to mature and case their output. To date, students of the economic history and the trades of the archipelago have not been able to convincingly show the proportions of manufactured goods that ultimately found their way to the colonies or even elsewhere (Guimerá Ravina, 1985). Free trade, then, for the Canary Islands exposed many of the contradictions of its commercial framework. Protection, despite the restrictions, of the monopoly gave Canary merchants the edge over those operating out of most other Spanish ports. Free trade coincided with peace and Spanish merchandise flooded into the Americas, to markets that could only absorb limited quantities of goods. Exports grew; most went to warehouses instead of consumers and merchants often could not convert their assets into cash. Instead of a selected few ports trading with the colonies, many were now doing so and goods exported from elsewhere on the peninsula were of superior quality, and/or quantity, to what were or could be dispatched from the Canaries. The outcome was a trading double jeopardy for many Canary merchants. However, they also held some trump cards. Many merchants had well-established networks connected to agents in external markets; they could hedge risk by spreading their profits into property, or into ship construction. Nevertheless, their dependence on the vitality of foreign markets, a limited range of products and a restricted internal island market made them especially vulnerable. American bullion imports dried up with colonial independence in the early nineteenth century and a historic commercial deficit with European countries signalled the end of a trading conjuncture for the islands. It was a period when a small number of merchant ‘houses’ did well by making money essentially from commodity exports or imports or speculation. Few of them had invested their takings in production (Guimerá Ravina, 1985). Both the Azores and the Canaries have been ransomed to cycles of boom and stagnation in the commercialisation of their products (Fernández-Armesto, 1982; Marinho dos Santos, 1989). The market success of the orchil extended between c.1830 and 1870, in turn helping to revive

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the insular economy after the blows it experienced at the turn of the century. Banana production enjoyed ephemeral success at the end of the century. In 1812, Santa Cruz was declared as the administrative capital of the archipelago, recognising past achievement as the premier Atlantic port and its handling of more goods, by mid-century, than any other port. Its nearest rival, Las Palmas, however, was gaining ground at the same time. The designation of the major ports on the archipelago as toll-free [puertos francos] in 1852 was tantamount to official recognition of the general failure of the ports to re-establish their vitality. The net effect of this policy was to link the islands’ export trades almost exclusively to other Spanish peninsular ports and most imports came from outside Spain as re-exports. Nevertheless, it was not until 1890 that the economy of the islands attained some degree of buoyancy. From this date onwards, the port at Las Palmas grew more rapidly than that of Santa Cruz, due to better harbour provision. Works that were initiated in 1811 finished in 1854. A further more ambitious phase of harbour extension started in 1883 in an effort to provide enlarged capacity. The contribution of these works is reflected in a 630 per cent increase in the vessel tonnage handled at the port between 1860 and 1890. In 1860, only 19 boats entered the port of Las Palmas; by 1890 the figure was 1,441 (Buriel de Orueta, 1990). A year earlier, responsibility for Las Palmas’s port went to the Ministerio de Fomento [Ministry of Development].

Azores and Madeira port complexes It has been noted that the Azores were a critical early Castilian maritime resource and were deeply inscribed in Spanish maritime enterprise, just as the Canaries served Portuguese maritime interests (Chaunu, 1955–60). In effect, the Azores were a vital strategic base for the Castilian Carrera. They discharged a similar role on inward journeys as the Canaries did on outward ones. Here, for some time, the networks of both maritime empires were deeply intertwined. Located further out in the Atlantic than the Canaries, they were ideally positioned for the requirements of returning vessels (Borges de Macedo, 1989). Outgoing and returning ships had to voyage though a relatively constricted area: to the north were the Azores, to the south the Canaries and to the east the coastal zone extending from Tarifa to Lisbon. Like the Canaries, the waters of the Azores were infested with privateers and individual ships had to run the gauntlet to safely reach the islands (Lobo Cabrera, 1982). Consequently, many damaged ships arrived and for this reason, if no other, the main ports became important depositories for bullion and treasure. Convoys could regroup and travel the final run with their re-provisioned escorts. Later on, Havana replaced Angra as the pivotal plaza fuerte and simultaneously the main theatre of maritime conflict moved to the Caribbean. The climax of Azorean participation in the Castilian Carrera coincided with the mid-sixteenth century. With the union of the crowns, Lisbon after 1580 usurped Angra’s role (Matos, 1985). Instructions, news and orders from El Consejo de Indias or La Casa de Contratación in Seville were communicated to Angra via caravels departing from either Lisbon or Lagos on the Algarve (Chaunu, 1955–60; Iria, 1974). After 1640, when Luso-Hispanic relations were at a nadir, the Azores, and especially Angra, lost their strategic importance for the Castilians and Havana became the replacement as a marshalling centre for the fleets (Soeiro de Brito, 1987). Madeira remained essentially an exclusive Portuguese platform. The Atlantic archipelagos of Portugal and Spain were also places where blending of all kinds took place and the port of Angra (later with Heroísmo added to its title after its resistance to Phillip’s troops) on the Azorean island of Terciera was one such venue for this fusion (Alfonso, 1983).

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

The Azores and Madeira had been colonised and settled from the mid-fifteenth century and the centres that were to become leading port settlements only had their charters confirmed somewhat later (Campos, 1983; Freitas Ferraz, 1971). Funchal on Madeira was first in 1508; Ribeira Grande (São Miguel) obtained one in 1533, Angra in 1534, and Ponta Delgada in 1546 followed. Recently formed volcanic and still seismically active islands rarely offer good harbour sites hence, choices for the building of ports have always been extremely limited. The salient Atlantic locations attracted migrants from other countries (Ferreira de Serpa, 1929). Rapidly, Angra, with its sheltered site and pivotal location, emerged as a major hub for incoming Portuguese and Spanish ships returning from both the Atlantic and the Pacific. After all, this archipelago was 1,500 km west of the Portuguese coast and some 4,000 km from the shores of the Americas (Matos, 1983). The Azores also were located in a zone that had favourable winds for incoming ships and, in this way, they offered shelter, the opportunity for ships to replenish supplies, unload, break the bulk of their cargoes and seek protection from English and Dutch privateers (Verlinden, 1983). Spanish boats returning especially from the Caribbean often foundered, or were damaged. In October 1589, for instance, only 12 out of a convoy of 50 made it to Angra; the remainder were lost without trace in a hurricane (Marinho dos Santos, 1989). Angra became the principal island port in the 1520s when the crown established a shipping control office there. Known as Provedoria das Armas e Naus da Índia, it levied tolls on all passing goods, much to the annoyance of the Spanish authorities who sent an agent from Seville’s Casa de Contratación to the port to ensure fair play (Fructuoso, c.1591 [1967]). In this way, Angra emerged as a classic entrepôt, especially from c.1520 to the early decades of the following century, and customs inventories of the period emphasise the variety and the extraordinary value of the goods in transit (Marinho dos Santos, 1989). Not surprisingly, it was during this period that Angra acquired most of its morphological features and its impressive architectural register. Three clear phases of development can easily be recognised at Angra. To begin with the early settlement was laid out perpendicular to the sea and streets connected the local hilltop with the rudimentary quays (Do Amaral, 1987). These streets were irregular in design, as they had to contend with extremely steep slopes. As in continental Portugal, the location of the key public buildings underscored a subtle pecking order of importance. At the summit was a fort, below it the principal Franciscan church, then the house of the governor [capitão], still lower down was the town hall [casa da cámara] and on the quays a hospital and the customs house were erected and the latter also acted as the maritime administrative centre (Fernandes, 1989a). Later on, during the sixteenth century, as the port continued to prosper, growth extended along the waterfront around its sheltered bay. The final phase of expansion dates to the later part of that century and again relates to its role as a port. Most of its prestigious buildings were constructed, such as a new customs house, an alameda [tree-lined planned walkway], a major charitable institution and hospital [misericordia]. Several new squares and intersecting streets were laid out, endowing this additional sector of the settlement with an aura of having being rigorously planned (Barata Salguiero, 1992; Oliviera Martins, 1983). Indeed, the representation of Linschoten sketched in 1589 and published in 1595 overstresses the planned nature of the port settlement, as it appears to ‘straighten out’ the older parts of the town (Fernandes, 1989a).This tantalising sketch also emphasises that excellent quays had been constructed, that its defences were spared no expense, especially during the Spanish occupation and their enormity and complexities compared well with those of Cartegena de las Indias and Havana (Cámara Muñoz, 1998). Portugal had regained her independence in 1640 but at a price; her maritime capacity had been greatly weakened and it now faced much sharper competition from her European rivals. Ships too were more efficient and most sailed directly to Lisbon. Angra was then relegated to a position of a local and regional centre, a focus between a weakly connected and

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developed archipelago and its distant metropolitan core. This cleared the way for the growth of Ponta Delgada (De Sousa, 1989). Madeira was positioned outside the orbit of the Sevillian Carrera and it discharged a vital role in Luso-Brazilian maritime relations as a provisioning centre for outward sailings (Cortesão, 1973). Sugar acted as the kick-starter for the early Madeiran economy, as also subsequently happened in the Azores, northern Europe being its principal market (Alvarez Delgado, 1961; Rau and Macedo, 1962). Cereal production also was export driven. Indeed, the early success of the Madeiran economy is confirmed by the spectacular growth of the population of Funchal. By the early sixteenth century, 10,000 residents were recorded (Mauro, 1960). The islands are mentioned constantly in the context of the Carrera up to the 1580s; after that silence ensued (Chaunu, 1955– 60). Copious exports of wine replaced the sugar exports of Madeira in the seventeenth century (Silbert, 1954). Before 1660, Brazil was the leading export zone, as Madeiran wines improved with maritime transport and thrived in hot temperatures, unlike those from continental Portugal. After that date, the British Caribbean and especially Jamaica became the key export focus for the wines shipped out of Funchal. It was only after c.1750 that England began to supplant the New World as the leading market for the fortified wines of Madeira (Bentley Duncan, 1972). A small community of mainly English Protestant merchants handled this trade out of Funchal (Hanson, 1981). The archipelagos derived different benefits from the monopoly; some islands did not profit all; only some ports and nearby hinterlands prospered from product booms such as sugar. In the main, the sixteenth century conferred returns. Some of the ports of the Canaries managed to prolong their participation in the Carrera, yet an unsure administration that could not make up its mind on a permanent locale for several administrative institutions undermined growth of several port towns. Free trade closed off the Americas, as many peninsular ports preferred to trade directly with the newly independent states and the trading orbits of Canarian merchants pivoted increasingly towards the peninsula during the nineteenth century.

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Chapter 6

Another Metropole: Lisbon The formation of the identity of Portugal as a sovereign nation state was a protracted and tortuous process and not rapid as some scholars have suggested given its regular shape and small size. Although it is one of the most ancient and durable nation states in Europe, the integration of all its national territory and its population into a market economy was a prolonged transformation and some would argue that this process has yet to be completed (Justino, 1986). The expansion of the activities of its port cities and the enlargement of their hinterlands have, over time, worked as the principal catalysts which, so to speak, helped to sew the state together (Mattoso, 1988). By way of almost total contrast with Atlantic Spain, river transport in Portugal offered many inland areas direct access to the sea via the principal ports. Since pre-medieval times up to as recently as the mid-twentieth century, large rivers such as the Douro, the Tagus and the Guadiana were vital corridors of contact between the coast and the interior (Gaspar,1970). Even rivers such as the Minho, Cavado and the Vouga carried waterborne traffic. Ancient north-to-south overland links connected the Minho to the Sado estuary (De Matos, 1980). Rivers also provided a good means of reach inland for many of the coastal port towns (Loureiro, 1902–06). After all, littoral Portugal has always been highly urbanised and most densely occupied (Ribeiro, 1945). Even in the mid-nineteenth century, a visitor wrote, ‘at present, each of these cities is isolated (Coimbra, Lisbon and Oporto) and almost unacquainted with the others’ (Forrester, 1853). This observation relates to the atrocious condition of the roads and the almost insuperable problems relating to the overland transport of bulk goods. The building of railways in the latter half of the nineteenth century, the improvement of many roads, state investment in harbours and ports considerably ameliorated these kinds of circumstances. Mediocre investments were allocated to only a few major ports, and railways enabled comparative advantages to become even more concentrated at a handful of key centres such as Lisbon and Oporto (see Figure 6.1). This policy not only deepened the gulf between these two ports and everywhere else in Portugal; it prompted the widening and consolidation of regional disparities within the state thus undermining the capacities of many other ports lacking the means to service bulk cargoes and larger ships (Justino, 1986). This chapter commences with a consideration of the relationships between recognised trading conjunctures, port and urban expansion. The nature of the early Portuguese monopoly and its institutions is then addressed. The composition of Lisbon’s trade is analysed with special attention being given to bullion, spices and precious stones. It is argued that metropole status and the trade it engendered facilitated Lisbon’s dramatic expansion. The impact of the mid-eighteenth century earthquake and Pombal’s contribution to reconstruction is then assessed. It is contended that a new Luso-Atlantic trading system and efforts to evade the restraints of growing English ‘dependence’ underwrote another phase of urban expansion and prosperity. Loss of metropole status for Lisbon did not have such devastating consequences, as the capital was able to re-invent itself as an industrial and service hub. Finally, the differing fortunes of Portugal’s two leading port cities are reviewed.

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Figure 6.1

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Economic integration of late nineteenth-century Portugal. Adapted from Justino, 1986

Another Metropole: Lisbon

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Phases of trade, port evolution and urban growth The relationship between national and international economic conditions and the careers and structures of the port cities in any state is axiomatic. Over lengthy time periods and extending over enormous geographical scales, such as the one chosen in this work, it is difficult, if not impossible, to establish clear-cut links, at precise instances, between commercial conditions and the careers of individual ports. A further complication is that between 1580 and 1640, the impacts of the Portuguese monopoly and that of the ‘Spanish captivity’ on port change remain obscure. Some regional and local studies confirm that by the early seventeenth century, and perhaps before that date, the monopoly had become more porous. This departure is confirmed by the entry of massive quantities of Brazilian sugar to smaller ports, as in the case of Viana do Castelo (Moreira, 1984). As explained elsewhere, the impacts of the Discoveries and the trading colonial framework that was erected around the Portuguese state nutrified the emergence of an extraordinarily prosperous port-based economy whose historiography conveniently enters a new phase during the Spanish captivity between 1580 and 1640. Later on in that century, and well into the following one, the Brazilian trade, the intensification of English commercial relations and the growth of state-inspired manufacturing, after the calamities of the mid-century earthquake, made that century a period of unprecedented prosperity for many in Portugal’s two great port centres (Hanson, 1981). European Napoleonic hostilities and the loss of Brazil unravelled many of these significant earlier gains. New circumstances later in the nineteenth century unleashed conditions that promoted restructuring to occur, again benefiting the larger port cities. The consolidation of the state’s decision-making authority and its amplification to most of the state’s territory, the massive growth in the banking and financial sector, the impact of the railways, among other changes, led to the emergence of a more inclusive and integrated national economic surface that was increasingly focused on its major ports (Justino, 1986). In a recent study of Portuguese urbanism, three key phase of growth were identified largely on the basis of diagnostic morphological characteristics (Barata Salgueiro, 1992). A medieval and renaissance period beginning with the reconquest and ending in the mid-seventeenth century is the first concrete era recognised. A post-1775 earthquake period is evident when urban initiatives and planning were so pervasively influenced by the Marques de Pombal (Maxwell, 1995). Implicitly recognised by Barata Salgueiro is another clear phase covering the century extending between 1650 and 1750, when gold from Brazil and English commercial interests unleashed strong urban expansion especially in Lisbon and Oporto. It will be suggested that the scale of this phase of urban growth has been underestimated as has the hybridisation of architectural styles that resulted from the collision of Portuguese urbanism and fashions in vogue in the Orient and Brazil, some of which were also implanted in the archipelagos of the Atlantic (Do Amaral, 1987; Rossa, 1997). A final, though less easily, categorisible phase has been proposed for the post-Napoleonic reconstruction and expansion during most of the nineteenth century (Barata Salgueiro, 1992). Portuguese urban forms also crossed many oceans, hybridised with other urban civilisations and some of these new models found their way back to Portugal where yet another process of blending took place as in the civic architecture of Faro (Fernandes, 1987). Our task is to establish whether this basic model also can help us to account for the development of Portugal’s port cities, especially its premier examples, namely, Lisbon and Oporto.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Monopoly, metropole and its institutions On a broader canvas, the Portuguese developed or encouraged the formation of a series of colonial institutions that contributed to the configuration of a globalised economy (Barreto, 1983). Directly promoted by the crown, some of these agencies were profit driven. The crown was then, in effect, a vast commercial agency. In another manifestation, it confirmed resource exploitation contracts and endowed major trading permits to merchant adventurers (Diffie and Winius, 1977). Both of these instruments of development and management were simultaneously in operation representing a phase in the evolution of a distinctive Portuguese political economy, which helped to shape the contours of their disparate maritime empire (Nunes Dias, 1963–64). It was a political economy whose embryonic features predate the so-called era of Discoveries. By the end of the fourteenth century, Flanders and Bruges, in particular, had become Portugal’s principal hubs for supplying its exports to northern Europe. An uneasy monarch sought to influence the growing independence of the Portuguese traders through the allocation of a crown agent to Bruges. Three principal roles were allocated to his office, known in Portuguese as feitor [factor]. First and foremost, he was an ambassador, he was charged to act as the overseer of the locally installed Portuguese merchant community and, finally, he was the monarch’s business agent. The merchant fraternity in which the feitor monitored and arbitrated was called a feitoria and it often had an exclusive parish church and a private cemetery (Oliviera Marquês, 1965). Both of these organisational instruments were subsequently transferred to the Portuguese overseas empire where they were modified to suit their new circumstances (Rossa, 1997). The feitor was the individual embodiment of the crown’s commercial monopoly and, in this crucial way, he differed from the Italian fondachi who, as ‘factors’, only represented the interests of trading houses or banks (Oliviera Marques, 1965). Bruges was Portugal’s first premier north European trading centre. By 1520, mercurial Antwerp had taken up pole position as the continent’s leading commercial hub (Suykens and Asaert, 1986). By 1586, its population was close on 100,000 with hordes of constantly networking resident foreign traders (Rich and Wilson, 1967). In 1549, pepper deliveries to Antwerp were diverted to Lisbon and buyers were invited there, a departure that marked a new stage in the spatial and structural architecture of the Portuguese monopoly. In the heel of the hunt, the monopoly was tantamount to a set of exclusive trading rights reserved for the king and his own selected subjects. The king, Sabastião I, declared a freer trade policy, providing all ships were not loaded and due compliant at Lisbon; he introduced in 1570 a further profound modification of its structural content while maintaining a tight hold on Indian transactions. He appointed a hierarchy of officials to expedite his directives through his far-flung possessions. This amendment was a device intended to increase shipments in order to generate additional state revenue by channelling goods and ships exclusively to Lisbon. Yet another institution, El Consulado, was mandated to organise protection for shipping against pirates, privateers and hostile states at war with Portugal. By 1602, it had marshalled some 900 sailors and more than 1,600 soldiers and taxes levied on merchants and boat owners helped pay its way. It also was responsible for the organisation of convoys. Convoys were not so suited to the rhythms of the Portuguese Atlantic. Unlike the Spaniards, Portuguese ships called at ports of all sizes and sea passages were influenced by trading conditions as much as the weather. Trade management was another pillar of the monopoly, as were customs. At Lisbon, the prime office was located on the western edge of Terreiro do Paço. The customs [alfândega] were separated into three treasuries, one of which dealt with spices, another with silver and the last one was responsible for everything else. In 1591, Phillip II reorganised the Casas. They were divided into four bureaux: one dealt with spices, another with tolls due from the throughput of slaves, another registered ships’ complements and the last one arranged the pay of servicemen.

Another Metropole: Lisbon

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As Armazems were responsible for the management of many maritime issues; they were concerned with, for instance, boat design and construction, the training of captains and pilots, the production of sea charts and maps, the management of shipyards and an arsenal at Ribeira de Naus (Cortesão, 1953; Teixeira, 1960). The municipality of Lisbon also played a vital role in the management of the port. It formulated and implemented various bye-laws, such as those to limit the time ships docked thus preventing sailors from suspect ships from landing, in an effort to interdict the arrival of plagues. It is unclear what investments were made in port infrastructures. The nature of the Portuguese monopoly policy and its changing spatial and structural architecture remains difficult to disentangle. Lisbon certainly was a metropole, but what was its status during the Spanish occupation from 1580 to 1640? Before and after those dates, many vessels sailed from, or returned to, Portugal’s other ports. Over time, the execution of Portuguese monopoly policy was inconsistent, making it much more difficult to connect phases of trade with urban change. Certain goods could be traded only at Lisbon and here there was a host of regulatory ‘houses’, each discharging its peculiar surveillance remit. Teams of officials worked in the principal colonial regulatory houses whose activities were linked to the Casa Reis. One feitor was responsible for managing [feitoriza] a number of the Casas and, according to Brandão de Buarcos writing in 1552, not only lists all the officials, but also mentions all their assistants, and provides details of their salaries and all the other associated costs. The manager of the Casa da Índia also had four assistants, two slaves and two book-keepers for the ships plying the rivers of the Guiné coast. Also, there was a treasurer responsible for the throughput of all merchandise and especially spices, and he had two assistants and one slave. Another treasurer was responsible for financial affairs and he had one assistant and one slave. An accountant [juiz de balança] assisted the senior officers. There were seven other scribes and their slaves. A warden who had a scribe working under his direction and a porter were also present. Forty-eight other people kept boats under surveillance. An archivist and 24 general operatives worked for both institutions. A clerk of works supervised the operatives. At the Casa da Mina/Guiné, a treasurer managed the arrival of all the merchandise from both Castile and Flanders. He also procured whatever had to be sent to Mina, India, Guiné and São Tomé. Ten assistants supported this individual, as well as several clerks, and some slaves, besides several scribes, one of whom calculated the taxes of sailors and travellers who died coming home from India. Another vital component of the institutions created by the crown to sustain their political economy was a port-specific trade monopoly. The regulatory authority devised to buttress it was the Casa da Guiné, Mina e Índia. It was originally established at Lagos on the Algarve’s coast. In 1482, it moved to Lisbon, where it was referred to as the Casa da Índia. In effect, it was a kind of ‘royal corporation’, which at the same time acted as a procurement agency, a counting and tax assessment office, a price-regulating organisation, especially for spices, and it also operated as a post office. Its chief agent who was a crown appointment was also known as a feitor, later called provedor. Other key responsibilities of this office were the administration and marshalling of the departing convoys, acting as their artificer and as reception agent for inward fleets (Diffie and Winius, 1977). A change in the monarchy often signalled alteration in the nature of the monopoly. Public-privatetrading partnerships also came into vogue. For a short time, another agency, the Casa dos Escravos, handled the procurement and movement of slaves (Heleno, 1933). Another ‘house’, the Casa do Armazém das Armas, acted as the principal state arsenal and Brandão asserted proudly that it was the largest and most complex of its kind in the world. Its role involved the making, maintenance and repair of artillery and guns of all kinds for the army and navy. The metals were largely imported from the foundries of Bizkaia. Some 20 full-time officials and master craftspeople were employed there. Linked to it and the preceding offices was

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

the Casa dos Armazéns da Guiné e Índia. It was involved in chandelling ships, supplying them with arms and powder, delivering sails and packing and loading merchandise onto the ships. It was managed by a provedor [treasurer]. There was a team of accountants, clerks and operatives who were directed by a manager. The Casa dos Mantimentos [Public Works] was involved in the management of La Ribeira das Naos where there were five artillery foundries and two gunpowder mills under royal authority. A state treasury acted as a further, superior tier, managing the fiscal and political economy. The administration of the customs was a central function – the Tribunal da Alfândega – and was reorganised in 1587 into seven sections, Las Sete Casas, all which were overseen by a provedor. These sections included a Casa do Paço da Madeira, which was detailed to levy charges on cod, dried fruits, wood, hides and skins (Mauro, 1960). There was also a department that calibrated tolls on all goods entering the country overland known as the Mesa dos Portos Secos. A Mesa das Entradas levied tolls on all ships and their cargoes. Another Mesa managed salt tolls while a further one known as Mesa dos Pesos set weight thresholds for specific commodities. An impressive warehouse also stored all confiscated merchandise to be later sold on. All the ships that docked at Lisbon with colonial cargoes, were obliged to put them through the customs. Failure to declare or deception could lead to confiscation of vessel or cargo or both (Mauro, 1960, p. 480). Unsurprisingly, the estuary was bristling with fortifications of all kinds. Even the entrance bar had an impressive battery. Built in c.1556, the Torre de São Julião controlled all shipping movements (Cámara Muñoz, 1998). During the Spanish occupation, these defences were radically improved and this was especially the case at the mouth of the estuary (Loureiro, 1902–06). By the late sixteenth century, there were several additions to the state’s administrative apparatus. The council of state was the supreme tier. The Conselho da Índia was founded in 1604 and it was responsible with the Conselho de Fazenda for the organisation of the fleets, the selling of pepper and the retrieval of royal revenues. The Mesa da Consciência e Ordens managed the administration of the property of the military orders both in Portugal and abroad. Another tribunal known as Desembargo do Paço managed economic and justice matters and advised the king on fiscal policies. The Conselho da Fazenda was established in 1591 by Philip II and one of its four sections was charged with the administration of the colonies. Long-haul trading routes In the sixteenth century, the most vital long haul sea routes linking Lisbon to her distant trading stations, their forts and port settlements was known as the Carreira da Índia (Russell-Wood, 1997). It linked Portugal with the ports of East Africa and those of the Indian sub-continent and the East Indies (Marchant, 1941). It later also extended its reach to Japan. It has been argued that, in all, some 900-plus boats embarked, usually in small fleets, from Lisbon to these ports over the years from 1500 to 1635 (Russell-Wood, 1997). Another source suggests that in 1555, the Portuguese merchant marine and the navy consisted of some 500 navios and some 2,000 caravelas. These numbers seem highly inflated (Bebiano, 1960). Very large heavy vessels were usually involved in the India run. The Carreira da Brasil, which also involved looping to the African coast, marked the other long haul route. On this route, ships tended to be smaller (Mauro, 1977). As a result of losses at sea, the Brazil Company (1649–1720) was founded in 1649 as an agency responsible for marshalling convoys (Freitas, 1951). During the early 1700s, as many as 100 vessels were gathered into enormous fleets. Sometimes the ships on this run sailed first to Africa loaded with cheap goods from northern Europe, which they exchanged there for slaves. They were, in turn, brought on

Another Metropole: Lisbon

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to Brazil, sometimes directly or via Lisbon, where the slaves were disembarked and then Brazil staples were transported to Lisbon. Also significant were sailings to the west coast of Africa and from there, items such as gold, jewels, ivory, wood and ‘medicines’ came back to Europe (RussellWood, 1997). The archipelagos of the Azores and Madeira were early hubs of importance and cereals, dyes and sugar came from them to Lisbon (Fructuoso, 1987). Good marine transport contrasted with woeful terrestrial communications, which made it easier to supply Lisbon by sea with foodstuffs. Berbería, or North Africa and the Mediterranean, also became a trading source of significance for cereals and other raw materials, especially until the mid-sixteenth century; it became a significant source zone again in the late eighteenth century. Finally, ships sailed from, and arrived at, Lisbon from the ports of northern Europe mainly carrying raw materials and manufactured goods. The latter came for the African barter trade. In the early sixteenth century, for instance, two fleets each year connected Lisbon with Antwerp. Times for the arrival and departure of the fleets at Lisbon were largely contingent on the most advantageous winds from the port of origin. This meant that the port at Lisbon could be quiet for extended periods while there were other times of almost convulsive activities (Russell-Wood, 1997).The rhythms of arrival and departure of Carreira fleets were also linked to the possibilities of receiving or dispatching goods to other ports in Europe. Ships connected with the movement of goods across the deserts of Africa or with the transit of vessels in the East Indies. Going to Brazil, for example, ships left Lisbon in mid-October and arrived by mid-December, or they left in March or April, but schedules varied according to the transatlantic destination. Returning vessels from Brazil docked at Lisbon throughout the year. There was one outstanding peak of arrival in October. India was a far more taxing route and it demanded much more from boats and sailors. Thus, vessels leaving Lisbon for the east departed mainly during March or April to avail of the winds of the monsoon to reach ports such as Goa anytime between August and October. The return voyage was started usually in January, sailing an identical homeward route in the Indian Ocean. Rounding the Cape, boats often docked at a Brazilian port and/or the Azores before reaching Lisbon (Marchant, 1941). Trading company foundation and sea route organisation were also vital elements for commercial promotion. Over the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, various trading companies were established in an effort to stimulate trade with specific areas (Diffie and Winius, 1977). The ones that flourished included La Companhia Geral do Grão Pará e Maranhão (1755–78) and the Companhia Geral de Pernambuco e Paraíba (1759–80); these were active in the eighteenth century (Carreira, 1983; Mendes da Cunha Saraiva, 1938; Ribeiro Junior, 1976). They replaced the Companhia Geral do Comércio do Brasil (1649–1720) (Freitas, 1951). Pombal revived this company in the 1750s. Other companies were a lot less successful, including: the Companhia do Comércio da Índia Oriental (1628–33), the Companhia de Cachéu e Rios de Guiné (1676) and the Companhia de Cabo Verde e Cachéu (1696–1703).

Trade: Imports, exports and re-exports The range of goods involved in these movements was staggering and each network of movement sparked off the appearance and consolidation of many others, as noted by recent works (Bethencourt and Chaudhuri, 1989; Magalhães Godinho, 1984). Macau acted as a hub of a series of route networks centred on Malacca, Manila and Nagasaki and commodities from these centres were forwarded on to Lisbon (see Table 6.1). While those items listed above relate to objects moving directly into, or out of, Lisbon, it must not be forgotten that many of these different zones also traded with each other, usually by means

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Table 6.1

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Lisbon: Commodity flows, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries

To Portugal East Africa–Portugal West Africa–Portugal India–Portugal

North Europe–Portugal Germany–Portugal Berbéria–Portugal Bizkaia–Portugal Italy–Portugal Flanders– Portugal Brazil–Portugal Madeira– Portugal Azores– Portugal England Ireland– Portugal Spain–Lisbon (by land or sea)

Coral, ivory, gold, hardwoods Spices, pepper, slaves, gold Aromatic shrubs, diamonds, jade, carpets, jewels, incense, ivory, perfumes, medicinal plants and herbs and lacquer, Japanese objects, textiles, porcelain, cotton, silk, spices, aloes, wax, [goods from the East Indies, India, Japan and China] Amber, jet, cereals and munitions Arms and munitions, metals, glass and instruments Cereals, ivory, textiles, and carpets and coral Iron, metal products, gun powder Glass, paper Silver, copper, wood, textiles, cloths, steel, canvas Diamonds, silver, timber, gold, sugar, hides, oils, plants, medicinal plants, cotton, tobacco, hides Sugar, wines, and fish Dyes, cereals and cotton Calf and cowhides, fish, textiles, cloths, and cereals, tin, lead, linen Saffron, silks, wool, blankets and dried herbs From Portugal

Portugal– India and beyond Portugal– Brazil Portugal–East Africa Portugal–West Africa Portugal–Berbéria Portugal–Ireland, England, Germany Portugal– Northern Europe

Bullion, metal products, dyes, textiles, cloths, instruments and linens Textiles, food products, metal products, wines and implements Textiles, cloths and glass items Gold, silver, hides, glass products, shells, metal products, cereals and horses Textiles, bullion, lacquers Wines, salt, fish, cereals, dyes, sugar, spices, ivory, wood, silks and tobacco Salt, wines

Sources: Bebiano, 1960; Magalhães Godinho, 1984; Mauro, 1960; Russell-Wood, 1997; Brandão, [1552]1990

of Portuguese ships. These conditions contrast with much more restrictive circumstances in the Spanish Caribbean. These trades were often organised by Portuguese merchants, for instance, the routes connecting Goa with Japan/Manila and Hormuz with Goa. Among the principal traded items, in terms of value and volume, moving in and out of Lisbon were sugar, slaves, cod and whale products, wheat, dyes and other organic products, especially spices of all kinds. ‘Drugs’, bullion and metal products were amongst the most valuable imports. Each of these commodities was implicated in networks of movement that linked Europe with Africa, the Americas, Asia and the Middle East (Magalhães Godinho, 1984; Mauro, 1960). In addition, each of these items generated many additional flows and movements, each one having immense cultural and economic implications, between and within each continent. Writing in 1552, João Brandão confirms the variety and scale of the commerce drawn in and out of Lisbon (Brandão de Buarcos, [1552] 1990). Let us briefly examine the spatial architecture of the trades of key

Another Metropole: Lisbon

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commodities in order to delineate the incredible reach that Lisbon had appropriated in such a short space of time. Fish, especially cod and also sardines, were a cheap and reliable source of nutrition (Mountinho, 1985). Many of Portugal’s northern ports, such as Aveiro, Oporto and Viana were home to sizeable cod fleets that crossed the Atlantic to the Grand Banks and Newfoundland in search of these fish (Ellis, 1969). Others hunted whales there and in Brazilian waters (Alden, 1996; Phillibrick, 2000). Portugal increasingly failed to grow enough cereals to feed all its inhabitants and, worse still, terrestrial transport was beset with the problems of horrendous roads. By the middle of the seventeenth century, half of Lisbon’s annual cereal supply had to be brought in by sea; most of it was from abroad. The scale of the role of Lisbon as a salt redistribution centre remains to be investigated; it is evident that buyers mainly from England made up deficits as demand appears to have often exceeded the catching capacity of the Portuguese cod fleets (Mauro, 1960). In addition, it is clear that cod were re-exported to Brazil from Lisbon and even more were sent directly to Brazil from the north Atlantic fishing grounds (Innis, 1940). As many as 60 English boats were involved in this trade. By the later seventeenth century, the Portuguese fishing fleet was in serious decline and the Treaty of Utrecht in 1703 transformed the political geography of the Atlantic sea fisheries (Walford, 1940). Nevertheless, Portuguese whalers visited Brazilian waters until late in the century (Phillbrick, 2000). Many captains had to turn to the more lucrative tramping trade. Other ships were lost to pirates from North Africa. In fact, cod were considered so strategic that they were one of the four main commodities regulated in the monopoly by the Companhia Geral do Comércio from 1649. Other goods which this company held exclusive dispatch rights for were Brasilwood, wines and olive oil. Wines, olive oil, animal products, also flowed out of Lisbon to colonial ports. Salt is one of the easiest forgotten trades, yet it has remained as one of the most ancient, durable, stable and most profitable enterprises (Kurlansky, 2002). A measure of its national strategic significance was the degree of its regulation. In 1576, the then king declared the selling of salt to be a royal monopoly and vested trading in the Casa de Contratação do Sal. It was instituted so as to fix prices, to regulate the supply to the market and to prevent too much of the product leaving the state thereby creating shortages of such a vital commodity. Bonded state warehouses were established at other ports and they were supplied with the product. Much of the redistribution was conducted via Lisbon. Without a detailed study, it is indeed difficult to assess the spatial structure of this ancient and enduring trade, still it is clear that it was gradually weakened by the imposition of a litany of tariffs and many other fiscal burdens. One suspects that contraband and fraud prospered in these circumstances. Flotillas of boats came with silver from Holland, exchanged it for salt at Lisbon or Setúbal, sailed on to the Baltic, exchanged the salt for wheat, then embarked for Holland and some of this wheat eventually reached Lisbon. Bullion and metal products True, Lisbon quickly became Europe’s spice emporium in the early sixteenth century, but what price did that city and Portugal pay for this spectacular dispensation? Bullion and more bullion flowed out, in the opposite direction, and so enduring and relentless was the haemorrhage, that it dealt ultimately a mortal blow to the Portuguese economy (Magalhães Godinho, 1984). For some it was a disaster; for others as we shall note, it was an unrivalled opportunity. Metals of all types were on their way east and each of them came from distinctive origins to Lisbon: lead, copper, tin, gold, silver and even mercury left in torrents to pay for the pepper and the spices. The feitor at Cochin noted that between 1516 and 1518 nearly 8 kilograms of gold and some 3,697 kilograms of pepper had passed through his hands (Magalhães Godinho, 1984). Much of the

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

early gold coming into Lisbon originated in West Africa. Most of it passed through the Casa de Guiné, one of whose stipulations was that such merchandise could only be disembarked at Lisbon (Mauro, 1960). The amount of gold coming in from Mina per annum varied between seven and 233 times more than what came in from Sofala. In the year 1523, for instance, c.2,555 grams of gold came from Sofala and some 697,559 from Mina. After it had passed through the Casa de Guiné, some it went on to the Casa de Moeda. Copper, for instance, was bought at Antwerp by the feitor, from the great merchant houses such as the Affaitati, who had in turn procured it from the Fuggers. They then sent it on to Lisbon, from where it was later dispatched to the East Indies. Where did the copper originate? Most of it came from central and eastern Europe and between c.1504 and c.1545, some 6,000 quintals left Lisbon for the Indies. Most interestingly, payments in the east were expedited often through letters of exchange. Profits made by most of the Portuguese merchants abroad were invariably repatriated, allowing the state to notch up a positive balance of payments in spite of the immense flows of metals outwards. Why, then, were metals such a popular form of payment? The simple answer is that in the east, they were much more valuable. Towards the end of the century foreign, mostly Spanish, silver coinage was used to pay for spices and by then too profits from a voyage had quadrupled. Gold, which became the most popular form of payment in the seventeenth century, was transferred to Lisbon from West Africa, more came from the Maghreb and Egypt, and some arrived even from Nubia and the Sudan (Magalhães Godinho, 1956; Braudel, 1972). In addition, quantities of America gold were landed mainly at Lisbon. Some of these cargoes were sold off there, as quantities noted on ships’ manifests were not always accurate and thus excesses were effectively contraband. Most of these cargoes were ultimately brought to Seville by land. Spanish naos and navios in the sixteenth century often opted to set anchor at the Azores. To finish their journeys, they could sail, under naval escort, or in convoy, to Lisbon to avoid the depredations of pirates and privateers who lay in wait for them in the waters of Atlantic Andalusia and the Canaries (Magalhães Godinho, 1947). The account books of the Casas de Moeda, at both Lisbon and Oporto, furnish critical information regarding all aspects of the gold and silver trades. They record both the origins of what came in and the destinations of what went out. Even wheat produced in Alentejo and exported to Spain was paid for in gold and transactions of these kinds were supervised by the Casa de Moeda. Trade often broke down established barriers. There are constant reports of Portuguese merchandise being carried in vessels sailing under the Castilian flag and vice versa (Gracia, 1982). More critically, many complaints were proffered by Spanish authorities claiming that boats from the Algarve and Lisbon were trading out of Mexican and Antillean ports. Worse still, so Phillip II protested, Castilian boats were disembarking their cargoes illegally at a host of Portuguese ports (Magalhães Godinho, 1984) Silver also arrived at Lisbon in large quantities from other unlikely sources. Antwerp in the sixteenth century was one of the most consistent suppliers and some came from elsewhere (Castanheira Maia Nabais and Oliveira Ramos, 1987; Soares da Veiga Garcia, 1982). West African Malagueta pepper [Capsicum frutesens], sugar from other sources and later even larger quantities of Asiatic spices began to flood into Antwerp from Lisbon (Galloway, 1989). These goods were paid for in metals, chiefly silver and often copper. Also, large fleets of urcas [wide flat-bottomed Dutch freight boats] moved from Flanders to Setúbal to load enormous quantities of salt, which was invariably paid for in silver, and whose entry and exit were carefully registered by fiscal authorities. Commercial gain was one of the principal reasons why many Portuguese merchants wished to see a union of the two crowns. Support for this union was especially prevalent amongst those

Another Metropole: Lisbon

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involved in the slave trade. The foolhardy and ultimately tragic campaign by the Portuguese monarch in North Africa further buoyed up the demand for Phillip II of Spain to assume the vacancy in Portugal. Phillip’s most ardent supporters were individuals who were aware of the insatiable demand for labour in the American silver mines and, likewise, were conscious of the vast reservoirs of labour available in West Africa (Gilroy, 1993). In a word, the rounding of the Cape by the Portuguese had repercussions in all of the major continents. It stimulated metal mining in the Americas and Europe; it generated waves of voluntary and involuntary migration from Europe and Africa to the Americas. As the spice trade intensified, it engendered economic growth in the main supply zones and distribution hubs of Asia. It brought African gold to the Spice Islands. Lisbon was the platform that now linked all of these disparate areas together. Lisbon too, as has been noted, was to experience a phase of unprecedented physical transformation. Other commodities Brazilwood [pão do Brazil] was one of the most famous products carried back to Portugal from Brazil. It was a term that included a whole range of hardwoods of different types and even incorporated many kinds of dyes (Mauro, 1977). Given the high prices that these items could command and the massive volumes on the move, it is no wonder that the state, through the Casa da Índia, attempted to regulate the activities of the merchants involved in the trade. Mounting fraud and growing contraband and conflicts between the suppliers, the shippers and the merchants culminated in the foundation in 1649 of the Companhia do Comércio de Brasil. It was a monopolistic agency charged with standardising trade and regulating tariffs, tolls and transport arrangements as well as merchandise costs. Between 1611 and 1647, 87 boats left the New World for Portugal with mixed cargoes of mainly Brazilwood and sugar (Mauro, 1977). Most of these cargoes were disembarked at Lisbon under the ever-keen surveillance of officials from the Casa da Índia. Corsairs and bad weather forced some boats to land their precious cargoes at Oporto or Viana. The trade was conducted through the medium of letters of exchange certified by a royal treasury official who was allocated a fixed portion once the buying and selling had been successfully completed. Then, most was re-exported to various European ports. Significant quantities were dispatched to Livorno and some went even on to India to be exchanged for coral. Amsterdam, in the north, took the lion’s share of the dyewoods except, of course, during the period c.1630–50, when the Dutch occupied extensive swathes of Brazil. Of all the goods coming into Lisbon, the trade in these organic products was extraordinarily risky. Until the wood had been cut, it was always difficult to assess quality. Immense profits could equally be translated into huge losses and hence the allure of profits made some few millionaires and many others bankrupt. Sugar quickly became one of the great prizes for the Portuguese (Galloway, 1989). Imported previously from the east overland, the Portuguese installed sugar production first on the Atlantic arcipelagoes. On the Canaries and Madeira, Portuguese expertise in milling and refining, Genoese finance and Castilian organisation and the sweat of African and Guanche slaves combined to promote the evolution of a short-lived, highly profitable plantation-like economy (FernándezArmesto, 1982). On the Azores, São Tome, Madeira and the Cape Verdes, the Portuguese set up less intense types of sugar production (Fructuoso, 1934, p. 159; Marinho dos Santos, 1989). Here, too, it was an ephemeral story, less so, though, on Madeira, where sugar became an economically viable showpiece for at least a century. In 1627, the total Brazilian export tally was some two million arrobas; the figure for Madeira was some 300,000 arrobas (Bebiano, 1960). Even in the final quarter of the sixteenth-century, Madeiran sugar commanded extraordinarily high prices at such ports as Viana and cheaper Brazilian products could not compete, despite inflated transport

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

costs (Mauro, 1977). Brazil stole the show in the end; the Madeiran rout was not completed until after 1650 (Marinho dos Santos, 1989). The scale of the trade to northern Europe is confirmed by exports from Lisbon to Antwerp, where over a 12-month period in 1553, some 16,961 cases (2,000 tons) and 281 barrels were landed (Bebiano, 1960). From this port, sugar and other Portuguese exports were forwarded to the ports of the Baltic, down the Elbe from Hamburg, and along the Vistula to Warsaw and Krakow. Added value was critical for Antwerp because it was here that most of the sugar refineries were sited (Deerr, 1949–50). Often smothered by strict monopolistic laws, captains and merchants landed sugar at ports in the Canaries or Asturias or Galicia where tariffs could be avoided. The product was then sent on to Amsterdam or Antwerp to be refined and then redistributed all over Europe. Amsterdam became the sugar hub of Europe for a brief period after 1630, with huge amounts of money being invested in the lucrative trade. Up to the 1670s, Brazilian sugar provided Portugal with a rich source of income (Azevedo, 1947). The voyage from Brazil to Portugal was much less hazardous than the interminable journey from the east. But there were other perils, chief among them being Dutch depredations. One source asserted that between 1647 and 1648 more than 80 per cent of the fleet was lost; this was clearly an exaggerated claim. Still, there were earlier successes. In 1657, for instance, an enormous squadron of more than 100 ships sailed into Lisbon, via the Azores, from Brazil. It had gathered off the coast of Brazil from the ports of Bahía, Pernambuco and Rio do Janeiro (Freitas, 1951). In that convoy, 50 ships originated from Bahía alone. Eleven years later, only 11 ships came from Bahía and they made up the entire flotilla. Therefore, the 1650s were troubled years for the sugar trade and, by implication, for the state treasury. In fact, these kinds of vicissitudes were behind the state’s attempts to found the Companhia do Comércio do Brasil in 1649. This company was essentially formed to provide naval protection to ships crossing the Atlantic and especially for the surveillance of the sugar trade. Merchant capital was procured to pay for escort ships, 36 of which were initially envisaged, but only 18 sailed out on the first venture (Freitas, 1951). The rewards for its first backers were substantial. The company acquired a monopoly for the supply of certain goods to Brazil, which became a constant bone of contention there. Since most investors were New Christians, for their trouble they were exempt from the rigours of the Inquisition and they escaped the confiscation of their property. In its short active career (1649–63), the accomplishments of the Companhia do Comércio do Brasil were significant. It provided enough finance for Portugal to firmly re-establish its commercial, cultural and military grip on Brazil. In the 1660s, its role was confined to supplying naval protection and it became known as the Junta do Comércio, which was finally shut down in 1720, only to be resuscitated in another form by Pombal (Hanson, 1981). Sugar production required thousands of slaves and the slaving networks set up by the Portuguese along the West African coast initially to supply labour for sugar production on its Atlantic islands quickly extended to Brazil (Galloway, 1989). The Spanish occupation, war with the Dutch, the temporary loss of territories in Africa and America often deflected, or curtailed, this trade in human misery. Redirection often meant the opening up of new slaving catchment areas such as Mozambique after the Dutch had occupied Angola (Deerr, 1949–50). The trade itself was complex (Mauro, 1977). How many sailed directly from Africa to the Americas or elsewhere? One estimate suggests that during the seventeenth century some 560,000 reached Brazil from Africa (Blackburn, 1997; Curtin, 1964). How many passed through Lisbon, and how many stayed there, or went elsewhere in Portugal or Europe? We know that for most of the period between 1500 and 1650 a least a tenth of the port city’s population was made up of slaves. Somewhere in the region of 200,000 African slaves landed in Brazil during the first half of the seventeenth century, with

Another Metropole: Lisbon

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c.4,000 crossing each year, and in total between 1570 and 1670 the figure was 400,000 (Mauro, 1977; Gilroy, 1993). Most sailed directly without landing in Portugal. This trade was buffeted by unfavourable circumstances in the seventeenth century. The Dutch captured and briefly held some of the most copious African slave reservoirs. In 1640, the Spanish asiento (a contract given by Spain to Portuguese merchants for the supply of slaves to the American mines) was not renewed. What was the balance sheet of this forced migration? It enriched merchants and captains, it contributed massively to the success of the Brazilian sugar sector, it helped to reduce labour shortfalls at Lisbon and elsewhere and it diversified Brazilian culture and society. The Spanish asiento brought much needed silver to Lisbon and made fortunes for contractors and shippers. It created huge labour shortages in West Africa, however, and intensified that region’s economic impoverishment; its human consequences cannot even be imagined. Spices Pepper from the Indies had been one of the great sixteenth-century commercial success stories for Lisbon; restrictions had to be put in place to protect it in the following century, from cheaper African malagueta products – sometimes known as grão de paraíso (Magalhães Godinho, 1984). In addition, exploration in Brazil confirmed the presence of other types of spices more typically associated with India, such as cinnamon, cloves and ginger. There were constant attempts by the government to curtail any exports from Brazil and even their development as cash crops there. Before the arrival of African and Asiatic spices in large quantities, they had commanded massive prices and were rarely available. Spices were not necessarily a luxury item. They had immense practical applications. In pre-industrial economies where stock had to be killed in battue, rather than carried over winter, they could help preserve meat and fish besides imparting a pleasant taste. The first documented arrival of malagueta by sea to Lisbon was in 1454 and no doubt soon afterwards it reached Antwerp (Magalhães Godinho, 1984). The first half of the sixteenth century was effectively an era of pepper, whose arrival and departure was meticulously recorded by the treasurer of either of the two great trading houses, that of Guiné, or that of India. It was registered in 1502 for the first time (Disney, 1973). Most of the cargoes, which arrived at Lisbon from either Africa or Asia, were later dispatched on to Antwerp. During the best years, some 20,000 quintals of pepper were landed at Lisbon. Nevertheless, there were better landing years, such as 1552 and 1582 with 40,000 quintals, and 1508 with 23,000 (Azevedo, 1947). In 1470, the crown confirmed the establishment of a monopoly in pepper, which also covered gold, slaves and ivory. Two years later, the monopoly was rented out to Fernão Gomes for 100,000 reis, and soon afterwards to the Florentine, Machione, for 40,000 cruzados – gold being excluded from this deal. In 1512, contracts again became the flavour of the day and different individuals negotiated an annual agreement. In this way, the royal monopoly must not be regarded as an immutable instrument, as its contours frequently changed, recognising new commercial circumstances or problems associated with its maintenance (Hamilton, 1948). Learning with great alacrity from the experiences of his sailors, the king turned his back on the creation of a territorial empire. What was achieved was the formation of an extensive maritime domain, which was confirmed by the appointment of Vasco da Gama as admiral of all of the eastern seas in 1502. The king’s prescience was quickly rewarded. In October 1503, Gama and his fleet arrived at Belém with some 30,000 quintals of spices, 15 times more than the quantity that returned with Cabral only two years beforehand. By rapid and impressive demonstrations of firepower, Portugal assumed control of the Indian Ocean from the Cape to Comorin. With a resident viceroy, whose presence betokened the control of the state, and its spheres of interest

142

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

represented by officials from the treasury, justice and the church, Portuguese power must have appeared unassailable. This vast territory was controlled by a network of fortresses on its land edges. A fleet blocked Arab egress from the Red Sea and another reminded any waiverers who exercised military control in the Indies. Unlike the Spanish elsewhere excepting the Philippines, Portuguese settlement was sparse in the east. Dyes, primarily those based on plants, were another major import. Early on, the Azores supplied huge amounts of woad, but New World dyes undercut them long before the end of the sixteenth century (Bentley Duncan, 1972). Gunpowder, saltpetre and soap were also critical imports for a militarised empire; fish were another critical element (Innis, 1940). Resident English merchants at Lisbon played a major role in the distribution of fish especially within the inner Atlantic sectors of the Portuguese empire (Walford, 1940). They were a flexible commodity; once salted they had long shelf lives. Food supply was critical for a state that often had difficulty feeding its people. Always a significant element in the colonial portfolio of goods, tobacco emerged as an essential source of revenue for the state in the last quarter of the seventeenth century (Lugar, 1996). Earlier it had been regarded as a medicinal plant. By the end of that century, it has been claimed, nearly 1 million people in Portugal were smoking, that is, half the population (Azevedo, 1947). A state monopoly was established in the early 1600s, but its remit was constantly being revised. By the 1650s, large quantities were arriving at Lisbon from Brazil. In 1666, for instance, the fleet arrived with 20,000 quintals of tobacco (Bonaccorsi, 1935). Data from the records of the Junta do Tobaco show that between 1680 and 1700, on average, 20,000 rolls of Brazilian tobacco were landed in Portugal; most came ashore at Lisbon and huge quantities were sent on to France (Hanson, 1981). It was one of the steadiest and most lucrative trades for the best part of three centuries (Magalhães Godinho, 1969). Cotton, too, came in from Brazil, but a boom did not transpire until the nineteenth century. Diamonds and precious stones Diamond exports appear to be the trickiest item to estimate given that so much of what was produced in Brazil and much of what reached Europe simply vanished. Diamonds were an ideal mobile asset, as they could be concealed easily and, unlike cotton, sugar or tobacco, they could escape the surveillance of the customs (Shaw, 1998). In Brazil, the diamond cycle extended between c.1728 beginning with their discovery at Cerro Frio and ending c.1800. The 1750s were probably the best years. Even if they eluded official inspection, they made fortunes for some of Lisbon’s merchant families (Mauro, 1977). The influences and sequence of most of the great natural resource cycles of exploitation that have been identified in Brazil also left their mark on the trading cycles of the port of Lisbon (Simonsen, 1978). They contributed to shaping the contours of the so-called Luso-Atlantic system (Jobson de Arruda, 1980). They helped to fashion a series of trading conjunctures in all of Portugal’s principal ports, especially Lisbon, and also in her foreland ports (Shaw, 1998). Briefly then, these phases may be summarised shown in Table 6.2. State-promoted trading companies were thus deeply engaged in all aspects of commerce. What did private bankers do? In the sixteenth century, there were several agents acting for the best-known German and Italian banking firms (Mauro, 1960). In the next century, most of those involved in the banking sector were New Christians and several were active in shipping insurance, which was also available at Oporto and Viana. One da Silva had, in 1640, a company that supplied sugar and tobacco to Livorno, Rome, Venice, London, Antwerp and Hamburg, and an Irishman, called Preston, established a bank at Lisbon in 1652 (Mauro, 1960; Walford, 1940). The scale of

Plate 1 Seville, c.1557, Hoefnagel

Plate 2 Seville, 1617, Anonymous

Plate 3 Plano geométrico de la ciudad de Sevilla, 1778, Tomás López

Plate 4 Vista de Cádiz, 1513, Anonymous

Plate 5 Cádiz, 1567, Anton Van Wyngaerde

Plate 6 Lisboa, 1571, De la fabrica que falece ha cidade de Lisboa

Plate 7 Vista de la ciudad de Lisboa [Olisippo Lisabona, c.1550], G. Braun

Plate 8 Planta Topografico de Lisboa, 1650, Tinoco

Plate 9

Planta Topografica da Cidade de Lisboa arruinada, e tambem Segundo o novo alinhamneto do architetos, c.1758, dos Santos Carvalho and Carlos Mardel, Vieira da Silva+

Plate 10 Plano geral da cidade de Lisboa em 1785, D. Millicent

Plate 11 Cidade do Porto, 1813

Plate 12 Plano de la ciudad y Pescadería de La Coruña, 1725, F. de Montaigu

Plate 13 Plano de la Plaza de La Coruña con su nuebo proyecto, 1755, M. Marín

Plate 14 Plano topográfico de la Ciudad Alta de La Coruña, capital del Reyno 1819, Felipe Guianzo

Plate 15 Santander, c.1582, Hoefnagel

Plate 16 Bilbao, 1572

Another Metropole: Lisbon

Table 6.2

143

Brazil: Export phases, 1500–1860 Phase c.1500–c.1550 c.1600–c.1770 c.1600–1800s c.1690–c.1770 1720–1770 c.1725 c.1750 c.1860

Export Brazilwood Sugar Tobacco Gold Diamonds Coffee Cotton Rubber

Source: Bebiano, 1960

the sector remains to be determined, as do the individual careers of its promoters. As at Seville, banking does not seem to have struck deep roots. Vessels and trade Over a nine-year period starting in 1641, some 550 boats disembarked cargoes at Lisbon (Rau, 1954). Nearly half of the total (229 boats) arrived with food, and half of these carried wheat, which testifies to the scale of this cereal trade. Many of the boats disembarking wheat sailed from the ports of Andalucía, the Azores and Berbéria, which often acted as a major supply zone in times of hostilities to the north (Bebiano, 1960). Cod, hake, rye, barley and butter also were common imports, confirming the fact that most great Atlantic ports retained a vital inner Atlantic commercial role as entrepôts. Between 1641 and 1685, the registered home ports of the 1,115 boats docking at Lisbon, included some 44 per cent from Holland, 38 per cent from England, 14 per cent from Germany and only 2 per cent from France. Interestingly, it was the Office of the Inquisition that recorded these figures. Over the same period, the ships of some nations did not appear at all. French vessels for instance, were not recorded for almost 30 years after 1633. Port records confirm that roughly over the same period, 29 per cent of vessels originated at Dutch ports, 23 per cent at English ports, 11 per cent came from German ports, and 2 per cent had Italian registration. What is abundantly clear is that few Portuguese ships were involved in the re-export of goods from Lisbon. Similarly, imports from other parts of Europe rarely arrived in Portuguese ships. Dutch vessels maintained almost exclusive control of the salt trade out of Lisbon and Setúbal. Over the same period, the chief ports of origin for ships docking at Lisbon comprised Amsterdam (20%), London (8%), Terra Nova (8%), Hamburg (6%), Lubeck (5%), Bergen (5%), Rotterdam (5%), Cádiz (5%), Yarmouth (5%), Bristol (4%), and there were many other ports with smaller percentages (Rau, 1954).

Lisbon: Locale and context In c.1400, Portugal’s population exceeded 1 million. At the time of the Restoration in 1640, it has been calculated to have been 2 million and a century later only a half million was added. Today, the state counts a population of more than 9 million After decades of sluggish growth, the metropolitan area of Lisbon has only risen to c.2.5 million inhabitants. The proportion of the population living in urban settlements in Portugal remained low for many centuries after the foundation of the state.

144

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

By 1527, Lisbon with 50,040 and Oporto with 12,024 residents were significantly ahead in every way of the rest (Galego and Daveau, 1986). Ports such as Tavira (6,188), Lagos (5,240), Viana do Castelo (3,848), Setúbal (4,880) and Aveiro (3,569) were not far behind Oporto. In many instances, a combination of shifting sandbanks and the extension of sandbars at port entrances combined with increases in vessel draughts precipitated their decline. The classic case is that of the port of Aveiro, which lost most of its trade for this reason at the end of the sixteenth century (Barata Salgueiro, 1992). For a while, this weakness was seized by Figueira da Foz on the Mondego, which enjoyed considerable prosperity as the outport of Coimbra (Aboim Borges, 1991). On the coast of the Algarve, in the same century, the ports of Silves and Tavira experienced similar difficulties and both met the same inevitable fate. Substitute ports developed in all these instances and Portimão and Olhão enjoyed substantial affluence during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (Mateus Ventura and Maia Marquês, 1993). At the mouth of the Guadiana, the port of São António de Arenilha was left stranded by the sudden appearance of a series of sandbars in the early 1600s. More than a century and a half later, the brilliant and ever restless Marques de Pombal ordered the construction of a new port at Vila Real de São António which has the distinction of being the earliest and one of the very few Portuguese planned port towns (see Figure 6.1). This departure was part of a wider policy of promoting regional development in southern Portugal and the initiative was considered part of a portfolio of measures attendant on the foundation of the Companhia Geral das Reais Pescas do Reino do Algarve in 1773 (Mandroux- França,1984). Leaping forward, again by approximately the same time interval, the most audacious but imperative development was the foundation of a new port at Leixões (1864–92). It is sited just to the north of the mouth of the Douro, whose ancient port was being choked by a sandbar that was extending from Lavadores, opposite Foz, on the southern side of the river (see Chapter 8, Figure 8.1). However, Lisbon’s expansion was breathtaking in the aftermath of the Discoveries (Galega and Daveau, 1986). One of the reasons for early slow growth was the loss of c.3, 000 to 4,000 emigrants per year in the sixteenth century; by the mid seventeenth, the figure had doubled. Nevertheless, Portuguese native-born presence abroad always remained slight. These figures, however, do not explain the general pattern of slow urban growth, nor the distinctive and lopsided type of urban hierarchy that emerged in Portugal with its two dynamic port cities at the crest and a yawning gap between them and third-placed Coimbra (Mattoso, 1998). Portugal is one of Europe’s oldest and most stable nation states, characterised by a very high degree of long-standing cultural, linguistic and political uniformity. Economic integration came unexpectedly late despite these formidable assets (Justino, 1988). It is also one of Europe’s smallest independent nation states and many scholars have noted that its maritime achievements have scarcely been equalled by even the larger states (Blaut, 1993; Brotton, 1997; Ferro, 1984; RussellWood, 1987). Holland was unable to control a scattered empire, Spain’s was largely confined to the Americas, and only England’s much later achievements exceeded those of Portugal (Rich and Wilson, 1967). The national identity of Portugal and its varied images has been profoundly shaped by its spectacular maritime engagement, which was and is associated with the fortunes of its premier port, Lisbon (Mattoso, 1988). Of all Atlantic Iberia’s leading port cities, Lisbon can collect most stars to place in the apex of any league of port towns. It has acted as a capital city of an enormous extra-European maritime empire, much of which remained intact until the early years of the nineteenth century. It was also the state’s premier river port – some 150 km of the Tagus is navigable (Gaspar, 1970). Soon after its designation as Portugal’s capital, it became the hub of the state’s terrestrial communications (Birot, 1960; Mauro, 1960). It is located in one of Portugal’s most productive agricultural regions.

Another Metropole: Lisbon

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In addition, for close on a millennium, it has been Portugal’s most populous settlement. For more than two centuries, it was Atlantic Europe’s most dynamic entrepôt and one of its largest ports. Over the same period, it was a major centre of innovation excelling in – to name a few arenas – all aspects of shipbuilding, the production and adaptation of navigational instruments, innovative cartography, the collection of all sorts of intelligence regarding foreign areas and in various aspects of commercial organisation, trade management and goods handling (Brotton, 1997). Nevertheless, a bar at its seaward end proved often to be a major obstacle for secure navigation, while the presence of a vast area of sheltered estuarine waters has been an enormous compensation that endowed Lisbon with unrivalled conditions for a safe and secure anchorage (see Figure 6.2).

Figure 6.2

Tejo and Sado estuaries

What, then, were the circumstances that prompted this most attractively located port city to acquire such an impressive list of apparently superlative characteristics? Can distinctive phases be identified in its career as a port city? How were they represented in the urban fabric? As a commercial metropole, how effectively did it sustain its overseas commercial network? Colonial trade in the post-Discoveries period was a crucial factor for success, as were the advantages that accrued to it, by its designation as the exclusive hub of a complex and vast sea-borne trade monopoly (Hamilton, 1948). In this way, it became a rival of Amsterdam and Antwerp (Suykens et al., 1986). Like Seville, it was both the prototype and epitome of what an Atlantic port city was and might become. So its initial major blossoming can be associated with all that the Discoveries entailed for Portugal (De Vries, 1984). Portugal’s occupation by Spain in 1580, restoration in 1640 and the arduous re-assembly of much of its empire, over a period marked by stagnant economic conditions, constitute a lengthy but impressive, if less coherent phase of development (Azevedo, 1947). The revival, especially of the Brazil trade and its spectacular expansion, was cruelly truncated by gold-field exhaustion

146

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

soon after the great 1755 earthquake. The Pombaline rehabilitation of Lisbon and the national and imperial political economy implemented by this incredibly innovative minister were to have resonances at Lisbon and throughout Portugal long after his death. Negative factors such as the loss of Brazil, the Napoleonic invasion and the failure to consolidate early industrial gains were, in part, counterbalanced, by the improvement of land communications, harbour infrastructures and the initiation of sustained industrial development (Coelho, 1924).

Discovery port city: Early legacies A glance at the paltry published research bibliographies that relate to Lisbon confirms that despite being the most dynamic port city in Atlantic Iberia, only a few scholars have attempted to deal with the complexities of its extended development (Barata Salgueiro, 1992; GEO/CNIG, 1993; França, [1977] 1983; Guàrdia et al., 1994 ). Vast fissures are evident in the literature concerning key topics such as monopoly, merchants and social change. Some of the potential for Lisbon’s meteoric growth was supplied by legacies from earlier times and the extraordinary opportunities afforded by its spectacular location, its sheltered site and its enormous well-protected roadstead in the lower estuary of the Tagus. Many marine related activities also spilled over across the water from Lisbon to Almada, Seixal, Bareiro, Montijo and Alcochete (see Figure 6.2). In turn, these settlements were all connected with both the military order, fortified town at Palmela and, further to the south, with the port of Setúbal, on the estuary of the Sado (see Figure 6.1). Its maritime potential and key functions were eloquently described in c.1601 by one of Portugal’s best known early urban cartographers Pedro Teixeira Albernas in a famous tract dealing with the ports of Iberia (Teixeira Albernas, [1622] 1910). By the early thirteenth century, Lisbon was the capital and chief port of a small and weakly organised nation state. Greeks, Phoenicians, Celts, Romans and Visigoths had all settled in the vicinity of the prominent Monte Castelo and the waterfront, which was protected by a defensive wall (see Figure 6.3). By that time, the main lines of development within the settlement and between it and its immediate hinterland were established (see Figure 6.4). Most were to serve as tension lines to which much subsequent expansion was to adhere. This process of growth was well underway during the Arab/Islamic occupation, which extended between the eighth and the twelfth centuries. During this period, two foci emerged: Alcazba, which coincided with much of Monte Castelo, and La Medina, which included some of the lower slopes and the waterfront, part of which today conserves its ancient street morphology known as Alfama (see Figure 6.4). Essentially, Lisbon’s early development took advantage of seven low hills separated by several valleys. A low sector with a north-to-south strike is separated in its northern area by a hill into two lesser valleys. Known as Baixa, the core of the settlement later moved onto this wet lowland flanked by the Castelo de São Jorge on one side and to the west by the Colina de São Francisco (see Figure 6.4). ‘Reconquered’ in 1147 with the aid of an English expeditionary crusader force, whose leaders were allocated nearby Vila Franca de Xira in appreciation, Lisbon was declared state capital a century afterwards. The city wall then acted for some time as a major fixation belt. General expansion ensued as a consequence of its acquisition of new administrative, ecclesiastical military and political functions. This early growth was concentrated in three distinctive areas, first, to the east of Alfama, then on the waterfront and later around several western hilltops where large religious institutions were installed as at Mártires (see Figure 6.4). Critically, the lower area below Monte Castelo, known as Baixa, saw some hesitant building on some of its marshes, which were then being systematically drained. Further sustained expansion

Another Metropole: Lisbon

Figure 6.3

147

Medieval Lisbon. Adapted from GEO/CNIG, 1993, Figure 52

in the next century witnessed the materialisation of a compact and well-defended, often cramped, medieval port settlement. A new wall (see Figure 6.3) was laid out between 1373–75 that enclosed the existing early nucleus and included most of the former peripheral suburbs (Vieira de Silva, 1919). Many streets manifested occupational exclusivity and some of the less appreciated elements were concentrated into three juderías and a sole mourería. Little change in street structure was evident in the old core. The availability of reclaimed land at Baixa witnessed the emergence of a more regular street morphology (Freire, 1933). Here, Rua Nova de los Mercadores was built parallel to the waterfront. This street was connected to the market zone and soon acquired its lasting designation as Rossio (see Figure 6.4). These were developments of lasting structural importance, as these areas became the platforms around which the great Discoveries city fused. By 1424, as maritime exploration began to accelerate, Lisbon already counted a population of some 65,000 residents occupying some 23 parishes making it Atlantic Iberia’s and Atlantic Europe’s largest port city (Guàrdia et al., 1994 ). A century later, a tally was not far off 80,000 souls (Vieira da Silva, 1919). A series of major natural catastrophes reduced the pace of increase including a series of earthquakes in 1531, 1551 and 1597, several outbreaks of plague, notably in 1569 (it was exaggeratedly asserted that it claimed a harvest of 60,000 people) and the famous fin de siéclè, Atlantic plague, which must have arrested short term growth (Morineau, 1985). By 1580, it counted 120,000 souls, a fifth of whom were slaves (Heleno, 1933). In a wider context, Venice (1560) had 170,000, London (1600) tallied 200,000 and ‘inland’ Paris coincided with London. Still a reliable measure of growth was the expansion in the number of urban parishes from 24 in 1551 to 34 in 1593 (França, [1977] 1983). By 1639, a count showed that the population total was c.165,000. In 1717, the Pope was informed that there were 300,000 residents alone in the

148

Figure 6.4

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Lisbon: Discovery city. Adapted from GEO/CNIG, 1993, Figure 60

western part of the city. This was a local clerical ruse in an effort to establish two dioceses within Lisbon. A more realistic estimate of 200,000 for 1729 stems from a fiscal census. On the eve of the earthquake, a further 50,000 was added to the last cited tally, when the population of the port city accounted for 10 per cent of the national total (França, [1977] 1983). Two recent synoptic visions of the key phases of evolution of the port city of Lisbon, noted above, share some major contrasts, and they add considerably more substance to the particular phases of Portuguese urbanisation recently itemised by another author (Barata Salgueiro, 1992). One conjuncture where there is agreement is that of the Discoveries (Azevedo, 1947). An early eminent chronicler of the Portuguese inner Atlantic also has left us a vivid account of this then thriving city and the Tejo estuary, then buzzing with maritime related activities (Fructuoso, 1934, ii). Indeed, during this century Lisbon was accurately represented by several prescient draughtsmen and artists (GEO/CNIG, 1993). See also Table 6.3. Fortunately, a remarkable number of discerning chroniclers have also bequeathed to us some amazing word pictures of the city, for instance, Oliveira ([1551] 1620); Brandão de Buarcos (1552), Leão (1610) and Damião de Góis ([1554] 1998) (Feist Hirst, 1967). It was a period of considerable population growth, physical expansion and functional diversification, during which Table 6.3

Lisbon: Phases of growth

Atlas de Lisboa (GEO/CNIG, 1993)

Guàrdia et al. (1994)

Cidade Antiga/Cidade Medieval Cidade dos Descubrimentos Cidade Barroca Cidade Pombalina

Ciudad Romana/ Ciudad Medieval Ciudad de los Descubrimientos

Cidade Romântica/Burguesa Sources: GEO/CNIG, 1993; Guàrdia et al., 1994

Terremoto e Ilustración Modelo Pombalino Liberalismo/Burguesía/Barrios

Another Metropole: Lisbon

149

state consolidation witnessed the establishment of a series of regulatory institutions. Their activities were to have profound effects on Lisbon, especially on the supervision and configuration of its trade and the manner in which it extended and exercised control over its maritime assets (RussellWood, 1997). Charles V of Spain sent spies there to report on them and some of the institutions that shortly afterwards appeared at Seville may well have been based on these Portuguese models. Of these, the Casa de Mina and the Casa da Índia were by far the most influential state-gatekeeping institutions. The deliberately conceived and planned development of the western side of the port was one of the leading morphological legacies of this period (Freire, 1933). The building process was symbolised in the appearance of the now famous and regularly organised Barrio Alto district. Building started in 1513 on the waterfront outside the walls and relentlessly moved upwards. This zone was initially the home of many sea-people and small-scale spice merchants (França, [1977] 1983). A severe earthquake in 1531 prompted many rich people to move out from the cramped core and settle in this area (Barata Salgueiro, 1992). Early building contracts stipulated that fines would be levied on developers if their building work was not finished within three years of commencement. These agreements reveal some degree of municipal superintendence of expansion. A further earthquake in 1597 encouraged even more people to take up residence in this systematically developed zone, which then had a combination of rectilinear or orthogonal dimensions (see Figure 6.4).The geometric structure of large sections of the Barrio Alto suggests very modern origins; the later involvement of the Jesuits in its layout may well explain its curiously ordered and regularly built outline (see Plate, 6.1). Merchants, master-craftsmen and administrators were among the privileged groups who occupied the higher reaches of this area and according to a contemporary observer, their houses were ‘grandiose’ and ‘very noble’ (Teles, 1645). On the lower slopes, closer to the waterfront, many residents maintained their maritime-related occupations (see Figure 6.4 and Plate 6). Indeed, by the end of the century, the newer, western sectors of the city, outside the walls, were now the most populous parts of the town. In addition, many of the principal functional additions to the port city were located on the waterfront (see Figure 6.4). To the east of the city, the Atarazanas Reales were sited and, not far from them, were the Alfândega and the Varandas da Ribeira. The great emblem of Lisbon, the Terreiro do Paço was, at this time, endowed with some of its most outstanding and imposing buildings (Plate 7). As early as 1500, work commenced on the Paço da Ribeira [waterfront palace], which was much more than a symbolic locational gesture (Branco, 1957). Now the pivot of royal power was sited on the waterfront, and not far from it was one of the liveliest trading streets, namely, the Rua Nova. Here also were sited the Casa de Índia, and the Casa de Mina, which had been transferred in 1481 to Lisbon from Lagos in the Algarve. The Terreiro de Trigo [wheat market] was housed here too, making this area both a commercial and administrative command centre and the locus of state power. It soon came to act as the main outdoor, civic ceremonial space (Fernandes, 1989). To its north, the famous Rossio was constructed, soon becoming the most popular and extensive open area. Further on, to the west, the main quays were located at Ribeira de Naus and the more residential district of Poço dos Negros was positioned below the Barrio Alto. West again, a most famous suite of monumental buildings was erected including the Mosterio de Jerónimos started in 1502, and the Convento de Madre de Déus. The prominent waterfront Torre de Belém (1515-19) was erected in front of the excellent roadstead at Restelo. The commercial dynamism of the city also attracted other religious institutions; many positioned themselves on some of the prominent hills outside the walls, such as Graça, Carmo, São Vicente and Trinidade. Many charitable institutions also became a part of the urban fabric, the most renowned of which was the Hospital Real de Tudos-os-Santos sited

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

beside the Rossio. This area and Terreiro do Paço were the only extensive urban open spaces and the latter one also served as the site of a major market (Teixeira Albernas, [1622] 1910). Its wharfs were used for the discharge of colonial goods stored in the warehouses of the Casa da Índia. The built outlines of the city during the sixteenth century were an expression of delicate social gradations (Leão, 1610). Beside the quays was the Paço da Ribeira, representing royal prerogative. Contiguous to the regal presence were the built insignia of the regulatory agencies of commerce and maritime enterprise around the Terreiro do Paço. Vying with these was the spiritual eminence of the church, vested in the monumental cathedral and the impressive suite of convents and monasteries maintaining surveillance from prominent adjacent hilltops. With a population of some 120,000 people in c.1600, Lisbon was still the largest and most dynamic port city in Atlantic Iberia with a peninsular hinterland that included most of the state and sections of Castile and Extremadura. At least a tenth of the total population were slaves (Oliveira, 1620). Even by 1555, huge shifts in the population of Lisbon were evident. The ancient walled core now counted only c.7,000 residents; the eastern outskirts had some 14,000. It was the western outskirts that had, by then, emerged as the fulcrum of activity with some c.75, 000 citizens. Overall, there were some 10,000 houses located in some 400 streets and alleys (Brandão de Buarcos, [1552] 1990). Essentially, the core of the settlement had transferred from its cramped medieval locale in a double arc-like structure at right angles to the river during the sixteenth century. The waterfront was one of these with all its prime institutions. Behind it was the Rua Nova dos Mercadores, with a hub on the Rossio and several extensions to the north (Castillo Oreja, 2000). Sea-borne trade propelled expansion and its urban form. Phillip II appears to have been directly involved in the redesigning of the waterfront palace, the construction of a new quay on the Terreiro do Paço and the embellishment of the state offices (Bustamente, 1998). Close to the port, but on both sides of the estuary, shipyards, watermills and ship provisions production centres were located. At Valdezbro, a large facility made biscuit for the navy, as well as náus for the India run. Many of these facilities were labour intensive. At the arsenal of the Ribeira das Naus in 1551, for instance, the following personnel were employed (see Figure 6.4): a general procurement manager, an accountant with his four clerks and six operatives, a master sailmaker with four workers and eight women who made lateen sails, and a works manager and his assistant with six full-time workers. There was also a maintenance manager with one scribe, a wood procurement official with one scribe and two alcaides do mar, one officer and two yard men responsible for munitions and all rope materials. In addition, there was one surveyor for caravels and 227 carpenters, 100 caulkers, eight sawyers and some 25 general operatives (Oliveira, 1620). A general inventory of occupations for c.1551–52, covering the entire designations of some 169 separate offices, 75 were interestingly the exclusive responsibility of women. A very high proportion of these offices were linked with all kinds of maritime activity (Brandão de Buarcos, [1552] 1990).

Lisbon, 1580–1755 An exciting map produced by Tinoco in 1650 presents the first opportunity for a detailed analysis of the urban fabric (Plate 6.3). It was a major advance on Braun’s pictograms of 1572 and 1593 (França, [1977] 1983). An earlier representation of 1352 has been lost but Braun’s depiction was anticipated by F. de Hollanda (Plate 6.1; Bury, 1979; d’Hollanda, 1984). All of these portrayals of Lisbon were produced from the perspective of a ship anchored in the middle of the Tejo estuary, so that scale and topography have been liberally modified to deal with the exigencies of that perspective (see Figure 6.2). Braun’s portrayal of the port city is refreshing, as it introduces

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both movements of people on land and of ships in the harbour. All the major public buildings are depicted and identified by numbers, such as the majestic cathedral whose construction began in 1147, the year of ‘reconquest’. The impressive Convento do Carmo is shown on a hill below Monte Castelo. In addition, all of the extensive squares and other major public spaces are easily recognisable, including the Terreiro do Paço and Rossio. A warren of buildings extended between these squares which then acted as the principal commercial hub. Streets such as Rua dos Ouvrives built originally in 1466 are also evident. The Paço da Ribeira, built between 1500 and 1510, crowns Braun’s waterfront. Within this area were Damião de Góis’s seven monumental edifices sited within the walls, such as the Miserecórdia. Many of these were embellished in the distinctive Manueline style (Carita, 1999; Feist Hirst, 1967). This was a limited suite of emblematic buildings for a settlement, which had enjoyed so much recent growth, prosperity and earned such popular renown (Damião de Góis, [1554] 1988). It was evident that some of the land within the walls was not urbanised. When Braun’s plan was completed in the 1570s, the development of the Barrio Alto and much of the western side of the city was well under way (Plate 8). Tinoco’s Planta da Cidade de Lisbon, produced in 1650 may lack the urgency of the previously mentioned representation (Plate, 6.3). It makes up for this omission by its precision and the delicate procedures employed for representing information. Numbers indicate un-named streets organised on the key according to their parish location. Most of the major public buildings are depicted, as are the principal gates and posterns. The geometric characteristics of the Barrio Alto endow it with an aura of having being planned as a military suburb (Braga Santos et al., 1987). The Philippine period (1580–1640) was one of architectural embellishment and some physical expansion also transpired, suggesting a further surge of prosperity. A new royal palace was erected on the Terreiro do Paço. It was completed in 1619. Phillip II’s architect Terzi designed it with the notion of creating a miniature Escorial on the banks of the Tejo (França, [1977] 1983). Many nobles connected to Indian commerce built large, yet often unimpressive residences on the urban fringe, which was an additional testament to continuing prosperity under Spanish tutelage. By way of contrast, for almost a century starting in the 1580s, many fine churches and other ecclesiastical buildings were completed. The famous architect Terzi designed several of the early ones, such as, São Vicente da Fora (Soromenho, 1995). Philip II introduced a retinue of Italian, Portuguese and Spanish engineers who embarked on a varied range of public works that included defence, water supply and other vital infrastructures (Morales, 1998). By the 1800s, the new monarch, João V (1707–50) introduced more classical baroque styles, and they made their appearance in some major public buildings such as in the Teatro da Ópera and in many churches, such as, Santa Engrácia. Another testament to propitious economic times was the construction of several major palaces on the urban fringe such as at Alcântara, Belém, Bemposta and Necessidades and several merchants also developed fine country residences in adjacent areas. One of the most critical technical achievements during this period was the successful completion in 1748 of the vast aqueduct of Águas Livres over the valley of Alcântara under construction since 1729 (França, [1977] 1983). A sustainable water supply had been for centuries a major headache for municipal authorities and the erection of this commanding structure marked a critical event. Indeed it was to act as an important fringe line for many decades. The period from 1450 to the third quarter of the following century marked a ‘Golden Age’ for this dynamic port city and state capital. It was also a period of reverses: casualties from plagues, failure of the fleet to arrive, fluctuating commodity prices, vagaries of supply and demand; differential monopoly impacts that individually and collectively arrested many aspects of port life. The processes promoting the growth of Lisbon within national, Atlantic European and imperial contexts have already been outlined, as has the formulation and implementation of a distinctively Portuguese political economy in which a monopoly was a leading instrument (Hamilton, 1948).

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

This massive expansion transformed its morphology, fastening it to the vitality of the port. By all accounts, aspects of the Portuguese monopoly were quite different from the Spanish one. For example, boats could dock at a series of major Portuguese ports. However, the goods eventually had to pass through the houses of Lisbon. Few of the other ports could mount any re-export trade. In addition, boats leaving Portuguese America did not always congregate at a series of predetermined ports; they sailed from wherever their captains elected (Mauro, 1960). Even during Spanish occupation, Portuguese boats followed the traditional routes. Economies of scale meant that few Portuguese ports other than Lisbon, Oporto, Setúbal and Viana had foreign resident merchants whose presence was an imperative yardstick and a requisite for extensive maritime trade. The changing spatial and structural architecture of the Portuguese political economy remains to be clarified. The degree to which Lisbon retained its status as a monopoly port is also unclear. It is patently obvious that crown and state exerted profound influences over many aspects of trade (Magalhães Godinho, 1984). The trade regulation ‘houses’ operating from Lisbon, the customs practices, the organisation of foreign traders into feitorias such as the English and French (Rosario, 1977), the imposition of monopoly controls on certain goods, the regulations relating to the movement of bullion and precious metals, the marshalling of ships within the Carreira embodied state involvement and they consolidated Lisbon’s position as the hub and monopoly metropole.

Trade, economy and the carreira: Late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries One of the major consequences of the enforced union with Spain was the triggering of remorseless hostilities with the Dutch, leading to enormous permanent and temporary commercial and territorial losses. However, the fundamental cause of the decline of the eastern territories was Portuguese indifference (Boxer, 1965, 1969). Various measures were taken to redress these challenges. In 1601, for instance, Dutch resident merchants in Portugal were ordered to reside not closer than a dozen leagues from the coast. Attempts were made to build up the navy to mount a serious military challenge against the Dutch. A combination of poor organisation, the use of inferior shipbuilding materials, the activities of pirates, shipwrecks and huge losses of life through sickness at sea quickly reduced the military capacity of what was left of the Portuguese marine. The final decades of the seventeenth century brought some respite to the Indies trade. Mixed large colonial cargoes arrived in bigger ships and cargoes included porcelain, specie, dyes, pepper, silks, diamonds and carpets. Going in the opposite direction were tobacco, paper textiles and coral. Compared to the previous century, the eastern trade was enormously reduced. Between 1500 and 1519, some 234 ships sailed out of Lisbon for the east. In the following century, only a handful was the annual norm and, in some years, no vessels departed. Sailing outwards from Portugal on the Carreira vessels followed the traditional route around the Cape. The activities of the Dutch and the loss of St Helena and later Mombassa made a difficult trip even more hazardous. Not surprisingly therefore, ships returning more frequently stopped at Bahía (Marchant, 1941). Here they landed the sick, took on provisions and sailed on in larger convoys to Lisbon (Hanson, 1981). Frowned upon by the authorities, this practice was soon legitimised. Some ships took five months to reach Bahía from Goa and, in one instance, 100 men had perished on the journey (Viera, quoted in Hanson, 1981, p.215,). Given all its reverses during the seventeenth century, it was astonishing that Portugal managed to cling on to the remnants of its eastern emporiums. This eastern trade, while minuscule in relation to Atlantic commerce, provided the treasury with much needed funds. Blaming the Dutch for reverses is a simplistic response. Weak Portuguese determination and poor organisation also help to explain failures (Boxer, 1997). However, other processes also had

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important impacts not least the growth and success of the Caribbean sugar sector fostered by the Dutch, English and the French. By the 1670s, huge surpluses built up in Lisbon’s warehouses. northern Europe could now buy cheaper Caribbean sugar making Portuguese supplies of sugar unattractive because of the imposition of protective tariffs. The pain from these developments was experienced through all sectors of the economy, by the treasury and especially in the sugarproducing areas of Brazil. Salvation for the Portuguese colonial economy and the port of Lisbon and its merchants came in the shape of major gold strikes in Minas Gerais, Brazil in the early 1690s. This new wealth helped to transform the flagging colonial economy from sliding deeply into decline. Whatever the estimates, huge quantities of gold crossed the Atlantic to Portugal. In 1699, the figure was c.700 kilograms, by 1705 it was c.7,000 kilograms (Mauro, 1977). Most cargoes ultimately reached Amsterdam or London. Exports of other commodities from Brazil rose steadily. Hides and skins, tobacco and whale products came in and even sugar production revived (Hanson, 1981). Increased quantities of Brazilwood, dyes and tobacco also crossed over to Lisbon. An estimate of the value of goods being landed c.1700, chiefly at Lisbon, confirms that sugar accounted for 67 per cent of their value followed by gold at 21 per cent, tobacco at 6 per cent and hides at 4 per cent (Antonil, [1711] (1950)). Indeed, the arrival of a convoy of 87 ships at Lisbon in 1703 underlines the extraordinary value of the goods being disembarked. It confirms the degree to which the port city had recovered much of its former vitality. It carried some 40,000 boxes of sugar, 21 kilograms of gold and 30,000 rolls of tobacco (Silva, 1933). Lisbon in 1703 was beginning to be re-established as a major entrepôt. Since 1632, rigid rules had been decreed regarding the timing of sailings of the fleets in, and out, of Lisbon: they were often not fulfilled. Later, when the monopolistic companies were disbanded at the end of Pombal’s tenure, fleet transport was also relaxed and boats could dock at Lisbon at any time. Continuous shipping movement information for long periods is not available detailing arrivals at Lisbon. The 1730s and early 1740s were excellent with the average touching 100 vessels arriving. Fleet size rarely exceeded 30 ships and was, in poor years, often smaller. All depended on whether fleets from various Brazilian ports sailed across the Atlantic together. Cargo specialisation was related to the origin of the various components of the united fleets, which chiefly involved Rio de Janeiro, Bahía, Pernambuco and São Salvador. In addition, fleet size attributable to particular ports varied over time. Most ports sent out distinctive product suites. Research has confirmed that coming from Rio de Janeiro, for instance, were gold, jewels, sugar and products derived from whaling (Chaudhuri and Bettancourt, 1998; Jobson de Arruda, 1980; Nizza de Silva, 1986). After 1769, source quality and range radically improved, which allows a clearer picture to emerge (Fructuoso et al., 2001). Recent work on these data confirms that there were three clear periods of growth in the number of vessels docking at Lisbon. The years of crises were 1797, 1808 and 1822–23 and the best years were 1784–94, 1798–1807 and 1814–22 (Fructoso et al., 2001). The busiest years were between 1798 and 1807 when the yearly average reached some 162 vessels docking. A clear connection also is evident between the number of ships arriving at Lisbon and the weight of cargo unloaded. High points evident were: the years between 1794 and 1797, 1808 and the final years of the third decade of the new century (Fructuoso et al., 2001). Despite the political turmoil in Portugal and the independence of Brazil in 1822, trading intensified until the 1830s. Over much of the period, Bahía was the dominant transatlantic port for bulk cargoes and this port rarely dispatched less than 70 per cent of all the goods from Brazil landed at Lisbon. The Brazil trade was the dominant one over the period, sailings still arrived from the Orient, usually from Goa. Most of these boats stopped at Bahía and then sailed on to Lisbon (Fructuoso et al., 2001; Socolow, 1996).

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Much of the gold and many of the other products landed at Portuguese ports went northwards at this time, when Portugal became more closely tied with England through the agency of a commercial agreement known as the Methuen Treaty of 1703 (Fisher, 1971). It provided England with access for its manufactured products throughout Portugal and via the port of Lisbon, with Portugal’s colonial possessions (Francis, 1966). Effectively, English interests succeeded achieving a monopoly in these markets. It led to the creation of a web of dependency in which Portugal had to purchase her political independence by pawning her commercial freedom (Schneider, 1980). These unfavourable economic conditions also undermined Portugal’s capacity to subsequently establish sustainable port-based industries supplying her and her often cash-rich colonies (Maxwell, 1995). In fact, an earlier 1654 treaty between these two states anticipated much of the content of the later Methuen arrangements confirming, at a much earlier time, that this unequal relationship was already evident. The conjunctural implications of this treaty and earlier trading practice had been apparent for centuries in Portuguese trading patterns, shipping statistics and incoming and outgoing flows of goods and capital (Shaw, 1998). One of the consequences of the treaty was to divert even more gold away from Amsterdam towards London (Fisher, 1988). Growth in the volume and value of incoming merchandise in the first of half of the eighteenth century certainly restored much vitality to the port city of Lisbon. Exactly how much is a moot question, as this period of the city’s career remains chronically under-researched. Yet a French visitor recalled that in 1730, the port of ‘Lisboa’ was one of the largest in the world (Anon, 1735). Maps, paintings and plans of the port city in the first half of the eighteenth century confirm that riverine Terreiro do Paço still acted as its fulcrum. Depictions by Schenk (1702), the Ottens brothers (1730s) and a 1752 ‘View of the Royal Palace’, identify in this area the palace, the Casa da Índia, the Alfândega, the Casa dos Contos and a mint (Dias and Ferreira Botelho, 1999). An inadequate and undependable public water supply and the country’s inability to supply its capital with enough grain were perennial difficulties, which concentrated the minds of city managers and the government. The city only relied on six months’ supply of grain from elsewhere on the peninsula or further afield. It had to import the deficit. Often overlooked is the scale of the supply trades to other Portuguese port cities. This type of maritime commerce can generate many shipping movements and good profits, besides entailing complex financial arrangements. Strategic necessity, then, dictated that Portugal had to maintain a reliable ‘grain-shed’ foreland, as imports from Spain were undependable and this bulky item could not be moved easily overland. Wheat, rye, rice and maize came in large quantities from Italian, French and Spanish Mediterranean ports. Similar goods also came, though more sporadically from North African ports. Nearly all of Portugal’s trade with the Mediterranean was dispatched from Lisbon (Fisher, 1981). Most of what went in the other direction consisted of Brazilian re-exports and goods from Asia. Sugar, spices, drugs, pepper, coffee, cotton, Brazilwood and tobacco were among the chief exports from Portugal, but bullion was outstandingly the most valuable item that helped to balance the national accounts (Mercator, 1754). Maritime trade also could involve a lot more than shipping, embarking and discharging of goods. Significant profits could accrue to those involved in the financial sector and the British were deeply involved in these lucrative activities (Walford, 1940). Some English merchants, such as Wingfield, were shipping bullion abroad, often using large naval vessels. It was an illegal activity, but nonetheless was usually tolerated (Fisher, 1981). Being able to avail of this kind of security made the British key bullion laders, as they were perceived to be the most dependable and most secure (Shaw, 1998). These merchants also sold bills of exchange to other merchants, often acted as urban rentiers and some of the most successful held county estates.

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Earthquake and reconstruction One of the periods of Lisbon’s morphological development that has received almost no systematic attention extends from the Spanish presence (1580–1640) to the earthquake of 1755. Only one recent survey recognises part of this extended period as a distinctive phase (see Table 6.4 below). Neither source indicates any rationale for selection of finite phases (GEO/CNIG, 1993; Guàrdia et al., 1994 ). Contrary to Portuguese nationalist perceptions, the under-researched Philippine era was one of initial prosperity, punctuated by wars with especially the Dutch and the English (Barata Salgueiro, 1992). After all, it was the merchant class who facilitated Phillip II’s usurpation of the throne. The late seventeenth century was also a period of growing commercial vitality, despite a reduction of Portuguese activities in the Indian Ocean. Diamonds and gold from Africa and the Americas arrived in great quantities, as did sugar from Brazil as a result of a significant revival in the fortunes of this trade (Bebiano, 1960). Clearly, the only feature that makes this period different from others is its length and its apparent lack of internal coherence. What then were the impacts on Lisbon of these commercial and imperial achievements? The earthquake of 1 November 1755 created a calamity of unimaginable proportions. The commercial heart of the city was destroyed, the port was wrecked and the country’s capacity to engage in maritime trade was seriously weakened given that so much of it went through the port of Lisbon. The personal determination of the first minister, Pombal, and a devoted team that he assembled to address the enormous crisis was expressed in the design of a new national political economy linked to an ambitious plan to reconstruct those parts of the city most grievously damaged (Borges de Macedo, 1982). So far reaching were the consequences of his work that now it is possible to recognise it as the start of a new urban conjuncture. His zeal was reflected in its physical reconstruction and rehabilitation and in the role that it assumed as state capital and premier port (Borges de Macedo, 1951, 1990). When closure of this conjuncture occurred is debatable; it broadly coincides with the loss of Brazil and the final defeat of Napoleon. For some, it began with the Restoration in 1640. The earthquake certainly provides a convenient date for ushering in a new period (Falcon, 1982). Other processes, much less evident than the physical repercussions of a seismic event, also helped to shape the contours of this period. Not least of these was a momentous recession in the early 1760s initiated by a dramatic fall-off in Brazilian gold production and all the trades it engendered within and outside of Lisbon (Azevedo, 1947). The Pombaline response to this decline was the creation of indigenous manufactories whose often successful activities impacted positively on the port (Maxwell, 1995).He also founded and revived several maritime trading companies. He is best known, for his contribution to the reconstruction of Lisbon. Despite the revival in maritime trade, growing merchant prosperity and population increase before the earthquake, Lisbon remained emasculated in its medieval carapace. Most of its walls and medieval gates were intact as depicted on contemporary maps and illustrations. Only the outline and condition of the Barrio Alto struck a discordant note against a backdrop of poorly maintained contorted medieval streets. Many houses had collapsed onto the narrow streets and the town hall with its scarce resources lacked the money – and the resolve – to tackle these and many other issues, such as its general unsanitary nature. No major edifice of architectural merit had been added to the stock of the city’s building portfolio except the great aqueduct (1729–48) built during the reign of Dom Joao V (1706–50), which for a time ameliorated the city’s chronic water shortages.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Pombaline Lisbon The extent of destruction wrought by the seismic event, the subsequent tidal wave and fire meant that both a new port and urban core had to be inserted. Some went as far as proposing that these essential elements should be reconstructed in green-field sites. In the end, pragmatism won the day and a much-scaled down version of the original proposal was finally implemented in the ancient core area. It envisaged reconstruction in situ (Matias Ferreira, 1987). It has been asserted that Pombal’s strategies of redevelopment, reconstruction, as well as his economic policies, transformed Lisbon, from having one of the oldest built fabrics of all port settlements in Atlantic Iberia, to one with the most modern (França, [1977] 1983). Closer inspection of his legacy must be more qualified. The formulation and management of the port city’s reconstruction and its economic resuscitation was entrusted to a newly founded agency called the Casa do Risco das Obras Públicas. It was itself answerable to the Junta do Comércio. Architects, artists and military engineers were recruited as a team to implement the plan. Many of these were transferred from secondary work at Mafra which was still ongoing, the main work being finished in 1735 (França, [1977] 1983). To pay for such an enormous undertaking, land and buildings were valued and sometimes expropriated. Special tolls were levied on goods landed at the port. The delivery of the plan was marked by many innovations in construction techniques selected for seismically active zones. Workshops were founded to deliver highly standardised building materials. Structured along factory-like assembly line arrangements, their command and control system had military resonances. A major innovation was the use of the wooden gaiola in house construction as a means of withstanding seismic shocks (Murphy, 1797). Other impressive departures involved in the rebuilding included the insertion of firebreaks and the placement of durable effluent disposal systems. Standardisation too became evident in the plan for the Baixa which was radically transformed by the work of Manuel de Maia and his associates, all of whom were driven, like Pombal, by idealism and models rooted in the Enlightenment. Both ends of the quadrilateral mesh-like plan were focused on major public open spaces (Plate 9). To the north was Rossio. On the waterfront, the Terreiro do Paço was replaced by an even more sumptuous and monumental square namely Praça do Comércio. These squares were linked to each other by a series of major axes, each of which was divided into blocks (Plate 9). Every aspect of the design was standardised. The power of the court and government was expressed in the militaristic order of the blocks of houses. Many of the streets were exclusively assigned particular functions. One of them was the reserve of goldsmiths, another was the locale of silversmiths. Silk drapers occupied one of these streets and linen mercers were a pronounced majority in another. There were incongruities too. The new Baixa was never carefully integrated into the existing built terrain of contiguous areas, although such an outcome was intended. On its eastern side, for instance, no meaningful attempt was made to meld the Baixa with Alfama. The interface between these districts is still marked by a major design unconformity. A more creative departure was initiated, aiming to link the districts on the western side, where the Chiado connects the Baixa, with the Barrio Alto (Plate 6.4). The principal docks and wharves were reconstructed. The headquarters of most of the principal state agencies involved with maritime trade were located in, or near, the Praça do Comércio. This phase of building and rehabilitation continued until the early years of the following century. However, two clear phases are evident, the first of which ended in 1775 during which the pace of implementation was frenetic (Borges de Macedo, 1951). The new monarch, Maria I (1777–99), however, was not so deeply concerned with the pace of building programme and it slackened off considerably. This period came to a close in 1807 when French troops invaded Portugal.

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Standardisation was even more evident in the design, construction and especially in the appearance of the new residences. Initially most were three storied; growing demand led to the addition of a fourth story often before buildings were completed. Austerity was the handmaid of economy and simplicity was the insignia of the façades, many of which were painted ochre. Retail and wholesale activities dominated at street level and the first floor had small balconies protected by cast-iron railings. Above, cast-iron shutters protected even more minute windows. Many also had double fronted Germanic-style roofs with sky windows, a feature that was probably introduced by the Hungarian architect Mardel (1695–1763). Likewise, the interiors of these residences were simple, straightforward and of small dimensions, especially their entrances; their stairs and kitchens had minute widows only allowing a little sunlight to enter (França, [1977] 1983). The planning of the reconstruction of the port was timely, as the docks were inadequate for the volume of goods that they then handled. The implementation of the programme for rehabilitation was not expedited everywhere with an equal singularity of purpose, and piecemeal developments were the outcome in the harbour. Plans had already been drawn up for port improvement in 1730, 1742 and another just before the 1755 catastrophe, by the famous engineer Mardel (Loureiro, 1902–06). However, the earthquake was the catalyst for change. In 1755, one of the earliest plans for reconstruction aimed to address the problems of the port. Its author, Santos Carvalho, adapted Mardel’s plan, which envisaged major changes at the Ribeira dos Naus. Before the earthquake, the port was congested: poor quays and lack of dredging work precluded large ships from docking. Instead, they anchored in the bay and goods were then tediously unloaded and brought by lighters to quayside warehouses. Sixteen years before the earthquake, the permanent workforce in these arsenals and yards only numbered some 1,400 (Borges de Macedo, 1951). The new plan envisaged two large interconnected basins fronted by impressive piers with a larger labour compliment. How rapidly these works were completed is unclear. By 1788, 2,830 people were fully employed there: 1,086 were caulkers, there were 850 carpenters de machado and a further 83 carpenters de branco, 226 were sailmakers, 103 ropemakers, 94 bleachers, and 181 sailors. The rest worked as general labourers. Pombal encouraged many of the most skilled artisans to move to Portugal from abroad. These figures confirm a healthy revival of shipbuilding and ship repair work, which again can be credited to the efforts of Pombal (Borges de Macedo, 1990). A new customs house and a suite of enormous warehouses were built and a massive rope manufactory was located nearby. The spectacular achievements accomplished by Pombal and his very dedicated, loyal committed retinue of managers have been considerably exaggerated. In fact, most of the city was not radically altered. Many districts were reinstated effectively to the status quo ante. The views of a visitor in 1788 carry a ring of truth. He claimed that ‘this town was always remarkable …, for being at once sumptuous and nasty’ (Anon, 1735). For Pombal, economy, efficiency and order were fundamental principles of organisation for change and these values were in evidence in the management of the army and navy. During his time, only 23 ships of the line protected the convoys; at any one time, nearly 20 of these were in service. Even if the army was small, it was well trained, equipped and led. Less than 50,000 men were in the service; it often deterred Spain from invading. His legacy to parts of Lisbon, its port and trade was enormous. An observer noted during the later years of Pombal’s’ superintendence, that it was like ‘a bloated spider which had drawn to itself so much food [capital], that its spindly legs could no longer support it’ (Costigan, 1787). He ‘invented’ a class, namely the merchant factors that played such a decisive role in the economic life of the country. An educated elite whose sympathies lay with the new tenets of the Enlightenment also supported him. Pombal was bitterly opposed by the landed aristocracy, the church and especially the Jesuits whose privileges and the canons that nurtured them were all

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

antithetical to his political economy. Portugal had survived and prospered by being dependent on the extraction, shipping and sale of the riches of Brazil for the first half of the eighteenth century, while at the same time developing a growing reliance on the importation of a variety of goods from England (Schneider, 1980). In essence, this was a double dependence whose persistence could only ultimately damage the economic sovereignty of Portugal. Pombal’s political economy was devised as an antidote to this growing ineluctable dependence. To bring order to the colonial context, he founded or revived a series of trading companies and developed both the merchant fleet and the navy. He tried to manage these diverse sectors of the economy through the Junta do Comércio. De facto primacy was allocated to the port of Lisbon and its new merchant cadres to act as its engine for re-energising maritime commerce. At home, his sponsorship of the company dedicated to port wine production proportioned new economic growth to Oporto and testified to the success of his policies of developing natural resources for a burgeoning export markets. More significantly, his foundation of a series of manufactories that were located in the greater Lisbon area was a response to the exhaustion of bullion from Brazil. The personnel who managed these centres, the state officials who superintended them and the merchants who handled shipping were a class fraction whom Pombal had created and whose very survival depended on him. Many of these facilities foundered after 1770. Pombal lured many foreigners to Lisbon, in an effort to achieve a transfer of expertise and technology to Portugal, so as to ensure economic success. This was part of his quest to loosen the English commercial stranglehold. Pombal exercised great influence on the destiny of his capital port city and the entire state for only a quarter of a century. Not only did his efforts represent a milestone in the career of the city; it was a period with a distinctive political economy that further buttressed all aspects of Lisbon’s primacy. It also witnessed profound morphological change. For Pombal, urban exegesis was a political necessity, part of a wider global vision that linked the cultural and ecological together with the social and economic (França, [1977] 1983, p. 283). His recruitment of a number of devoted and loyal architects and engineers to implement the rehabilitation plan devised for the city is an affirmation of his organisational skills. Piecemeal must be the verdict relating to the port city’s restructuring and ephemeral might better describe the social transformation of urban society. After his fall from power, his economic policies were assailed and subverted, his supporters lost power: many retained their influence. His quarter century rule did mark a period of highly focused policy implementation, probably never been witnessed, before or since. It allowed Lisbon quickly to reassert its national eminence as capital and premier port city and enabled it to consolidate what soon became an unassailable position. One of the most enabling supports were the monopolies granted to the Brazilian trading companies that employed Lisbon as their European hub. Pombal’s fall, their gradual suppression and the subsequent independence of Brazil helped to dismantle the Luso-Atlantic trading system and diminish the activities of the port of Lisbon. His period of office also witnessed the arrival from outside of Enlightenment ideas relating to maritime technology and port organisation that were part of a wider revolution in aspirations and tastes. While Pombal’s achievements in physical rehabilitation are undeniable, it is much more difficult to account for the port’s almost immediate, spectacular commercial revival. A visitor noted that by 1758 Lisbon had ‘more foreign traffic than any in Europe, save Amsterdam and London’ (quoted in Fisher, 1988, p. 15). Pombal’s determination to rebuild the port had paid important dividends for the merchants and contributed massively to the economic revival of city and state. He also promoted large-scale tobacco processing, textile production and silk weaving in an early effort to attain added-value benefits.

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The prosperity that was evident in late eighteenth-century Lisbon, besides attracting skilled inmigrants, was a perceived honey-pot for the unskilled. As elsewhere on the peninsula, Gallegos filled both real and perceived voids in the labour force, favouring especially domestic work, labouring, portering and street cleaning. One source credibly asserted that in the 1770s some 40,000 Gallegos had made Lisbon their temporary home (Anon, 1809). Another calculated that together Gallegos and slaves accounted for some 70,000 residents in the 1780s (Braga Santos et al., 1987, p. 47; Millar, 1991). Gallegos were regarded as indispensable. An attempt to repatriate them was considered in 1801, as some believed them to be politically suspect in wartime conditions. Reality set in quickly when it was appreciated that the city could not function without them.

Manufactories In the early 1760s, gold production in Brazil declined precipitously. Brazilian sugar producers faced keen competition from other European colonies. This sudden economic irruption saw shipping movements at Lisbon drastically reduced. There were many bankruptcies and some foreign merchants left Lisbon (Borges de Macedo, 1951, 1990). English exports moving though Lisbon also fell drastically (Fisher, 1988). These sudden economic changes threatened most sectors of the economy and even the stability of the Portuguese empire, as gold had become the bedrock of its sustainability (Maxwell, 1995). In this way, the unexpectedly catastrophic cooling of the commercial climate posed a far more serious long-term danger than the recent earthquake with all its implications. The economic chill, however, did not affect all sectors of the Luso-Brazilian economy (Mauro, 1991). Wine exports thrived, further fuelling the growing ascendancy of Oporto. The state tobacco sector, centred at Lisbon, blossomed, as did the increasingly profitable re-export of cotton (Lugar, 1996). As with other commodities, the state had a clear view. It attempted to direct the best tobaccos to Europe as re-exports, ensuring that only poorer quality ones went to Africa in part payment for slaves. Pombal’s policy was interventionist; he set out to assist and support Portuguese contractors, rather than superintend them. His economic rationale asserted that too much of the transatlantic trade was in foreign hands. In spite of these efforts at improvement, little change materialised. In 1798, for instance, Italian ports took 71 per cent of re-exports, Hamburg landed 13 per cent and the bulk of the remainder went to Spain (Lugar, 1996). Between 1764 and 1803, anywhere between 100,000 and 234,000 arrobas of tobacco were re-exported from Lisbon and the best years were at the close of the century. A trip across the Atlantic saw the price of an arroba of tobacco quadruple. In 1808, ‘free trade’ and the opening of the Brazilian ports did not signal a significant change in Brazil to Portugal trade, in fact exports even increased for a short time (Magalhães Godinho, 1995). Progressively, the Portuguese lost the ability to manipulate this trade by regulating growers, contractors and prices; open trading and competition from elsewhere gradually undermined Lisbon’s role as a re-exporter. In this way, Lisbon’s function as a major entrepôt progressively diminished during the nineteenth century as the instance of tobacco has illustrated (Magalhães Godinho, 1955). By themselves, these trades could not, in the long term, stave off insolvency. Through the aegis of the Junta do Comércio, from the mid-1760s onwards, Pombal established a series of manufactories. They were designed to offset the weaker purchasing power of the state and to protect Portuguese-made products while simultaneously encouraging exports of high added value goods. Policies were also designed to exploit raw materials and boost employment. Where possible, this policy would help to subvert English penetration of the Portuguese market, then so liberally

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

facilitated by the provisions of the Methuen Treaty. Most of these new production facilities were established in, or around, Lisbon and much of what they produced went outwards through its port. One of the great successes of this policy was the establishment of a series of cotton textile making facilities which produced goods for export and undercut the prices of incoming English woollen textiles. This clever stratagem allowed Pombal to escape from the strictures of the Methuen Treaty, which favoured English woollens (Francis, 1966). It was silent on cotton (Maxwell, 1995). At the heart of the policy was a rationale of import substitution and export promotion. Many of the new facilities produced luxury items made from local raw materials such as porcelain, tapestries, cotton and silk textiles. Funds to establish them often came from private sources. The state cosseted them by shielding them with protective tariffs. This state policy was further in evidence in terms of its involvement in the financing and in the management of these companies. Money and personnel from the state Treasury, the Junta do Comércio and the Royal Silk Factory circulated between many of the newly established manufactories in such a way that all could draw from a pool of capital and skills. Pombal aimed, through the initiation of a manufacturing base, at endowing the state with the expertise necessary to develop an independent economic foundation. For some time, success attended these worthy goals represented in a booming economy and an intensification of Lisbon’s exports (Maxwell, 1995). After the death of the king, Dom José I (1750–77) in 1777, Pombal soon lost power and died. The new monarch Dona Maria I was weak. Influence and power quickly passed to a heterogeneous constituency of his enemies. One of the first moves of the new administration was to liberalise much of the state apparatus by dismantling all the monopolies and the manufactories sustained by them. The Junta do Comércio was downsized and responsibility for the administration of the manufactories was passed on to the Junta da Administração das Fabricas e Aguas Livres. Paradoxically for its supporters, the move backfired. Companies whose activities straddled the Atlantic such as the Companhía de Grão Pará e Maranhão were abolished. It and some other companies continued to trade under the auspices of its former senior employees. Elsewhere, other directors acquired control of former state manufactories, so that liberalisation mainly benefited a privileged elite whose ascendancy Pombal had initiated and helped to consolidate. The fabric of this edifice and the Atlantic commercial system that it supported was shattered by the French occupation.

Merchants and ‘dependence’ Since the restoration in 1640, more and more goods leaving and reaching Portugal were carried by foreign ships (Fisher, 1988). In the eighteenth century, foreign merchants played a leading, if not a decisive role, in the management of trade at Lisbon (Shaw, 1998). In the absence of research, the balance of influence between Portuguese and non-Portuguese merchants is difficult to disentangle (Davies, 1973). There was a significant foreign merchant community resident in Lisbon, as scholars have confirmed, and members of this community came from England, France, German areas, Holland and Ireland (Davies, 1962; Fisher, 1988; Labourdette, 1988). Given the close and contractual relationship between England and Portugal, merchants from that country had a disproportionate influence (Walford, 1940). This was a manifestation of dependence for the Portuguese that Pombal tried to curtail (Sideri, 1978). His efforts were not successful (Shaw, 1998). Some recent scholarship has benignly argued that dependence was inevitable. ‘The great expansion of Lisbon’s trade that then ensued for many decades, linked to Brazilian developments, could not have been handled efficiently by the Portuguese merchants, shipping and capital alone’ (Fisher, 1988). Hyperbole then was a trademark of some older and even some more modern English perceptions relating to Anglo-Portuguese trade. A more telling explanation is that the stipulations

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of the Methuen Treaty made dependence of some kind inevitable (Lains, 1986; Noya Pinto, 1979; Schneider, 1980). This kind of perspective was ingrained in the representations of Portugal made by some of the foreigners in the eighteenth century such as Beckford (1957), Dalrymple (1776), Costigan (1787), Mercator (1754), Murphy (1797), Southey (1978), Tyrawly (1760), Baretti (1850), Gorani (1945) and Dumouriez (1775). Mercator was especially disparaging: The Portuguese themselves carry out no commerce of consequence with any other European dominions: the British, French, Dutch, … Danes, Swedes, Spaniards and most of the states of Italy, having factories and consuls settled in Lisbon … of these people the Portuguese merchants purchase the necessary commodities for India, Guine and Brazil commerce; as the town and country dealers, do those for their home consumption. At the same time merchants purchase of the natives, or take in barter, the several products of their dominions, which they export to their countries proper for their Sale (Mercator, 1754).

One of the reasons for the presence of so many outside merchants lay in Pombal’s policy to encourage both foreign capital and merchants to play an active role in reconstruction. Political realities of the era were enshrined in the Treaty of Methuen (1703), which meant that English commerce acquired preference and privilege (Shaw, 1998). This helps to explain the eclipse of the French merchant community by that of the English one in the early 1800s, and even the French themselves recognised the change as soon as it had happened (Fisher, 1971). Dumouriez noted that ‘they [the English], were the most influential and wealthy foreign “nation” in Lisbon’ (1775). This prescient author, who was also a spy, stated that English influence was very pervasive and he claimed that virtually all the goods re-exported to other European ports were carried in British ships and were handled by their merchants. Much of the capital used in the African and Brazilian trades was also from the same source. A sensible Portuguese writer compares, not inaptly, their whole Kingdom to one of that sort of spider which has a large body (the capital) with extremely long, thin, feeble legs, reaching to a great distance, but are of no use to it, and which it is hardly able to move (Costigan, 1787, Vol. 1, p. 285).

Another more sanguine visitor noted that there were three types of English ‘houses’ or trading companies. Only four were ‘opulent’ and could call on very large funds. A dozen ‘houses’ were ‘in easy circumstances’ and many others ‘maintain themselves with difficulty’ (Walford, 1940). As at Cádiz, there were many Italian ‘houses’ and a church. Associated with the English factory house at Lisbon, as was evident at its sister house at Cádiz, were English, Irish and Scots merchants. The last group were always a small minority. There, it seems, similarities ended. At Lisbon, English merchants were much more numerous than the Irish and their relationship was characterised by trading concessions enshrining social ascendancy (O’Connell, 2001). British–Portuguese commercial relations were legally defined in a 1654 treaty, which influenced all subsequent commercial agreements. No date can be identified indicating when the so called ‘English Factory’ (often called a ‘house’), at Lisbon was first established. Documents confirm that it was functioning by 1666 (Walford, 1940). As at Cádiz, not every English merchant sought membership. The eighteenth century was the period of greatest opulence. Research has shown that the number of members of the ‘English house’ at any one time was linked to the overall well-being of the Portuguese economy (Shaw, 1998). In 1711, a report confirmed the existence of some 40 ‘factory’ members. By 1776, the number had fallen to 36 and by 1794 the number had risen to nearly 60 (Fisher, 1981). Whatever the size of this community, many observers such as Costigan (1787) and Murphy (1797) agreed that they remained a small and isolated minority, few dug any roots and even fewer spoke Portuguese (Braga Santos et al., 1987).

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

The English were only part of the story. There were many extremely active and opulent Portuguese merchants. The Quintella family was one such instance. They acquired an exclusive salt gabelle for 13 years from 1788 for Brazil. It was this family and others, such as the Bandeiras and Braamcamps who had built ‘magnificent houses’ (Southey, 1978). Many of these residences were redolent of a ‘glaring display of false taste and ill-judged magnificence’ (Beckford, 1957, quoted in Maxwell, 1995). British merchant houses were especially active in Mediterranean commerce and many had agents in different ports. Much of the trade they organised was financed by them and much of it was carried on ships of their nation. One observer noted that: Portugal in her own shipping has but little trade with other European nations … the principal use she makes being the carrying of great quantities of negroes as there is constant demand for them from her noble colony Brazil [and East India] … now of small importance to her (Anderson, 1764).

A French survey noted that in 1775, English commerce was dominant and that the British Factory had more active members than the equivalent ones of other nations (Anon, 1775). During a century when English shipping was on an ascendant curve, vessels in transit, to or from English or other ports found Lisbon a convenient stop (Davies, 1962). Volumes of goods carried and numbers of ships on the run between Portugal and the Mediterranean ports varied according to prices, demand and supply, and military considerations. Between 1772 and 1773, 643 English vessels arrived at Lisbon and some 14 per cent of the total came from Mediterranean ports, making England the leading shippers. Most were involved in the grain trade. Cereals were usually paid for in bullion and, acknowledging England’s growing supremacy, London had emerged as Europe’s chief bullion centre in the eighteenth century thus replacing Amsterdam (Shaw, 1998). England occupied pole position in terms of vessels clearing Lisbon. Venetian vessels and Swedish ones were respectively second and third in this trade.

Eighteenth-century port throughput With what kinds of goods were these departing ships laded? In 1773, most of them carried items such as sugar, cocoa, oils and wine. However, the number of English ships clearing Lisbon for Mediterranean ports only represented a mere 8 per cent of the total number of English ships in transit. Most of these vessels moved to northern Europe. The evidence points then to a tripartite structure of shipping arriving at Lisbon. Brazilian goods and ships embarking for Brazil and Africa south of the Sahara were mainly Portuguese and increasingly Brazilian after 1822. Ships from chiefly England, Holland and Germany plied between Lisbon and northern and western Europe. The mail boat service, which began in 1703, linking Lisbon to Falmouth, was also conducted by English boats. Finally, most ships carrying grain from Atlantic and Mediterranean ports to Lisbon were English. It has not been possible to identify the ‘nationalities’ of the ships involved in the residual India trade; it is likely that most were Portuguese. Within Europe, at the end of the eighteenth century most of Portugal’s maritime trade was linked to the countries and ports of northern Europe; again most of what was on the move was carried by ships registered outside Portugal. In terms of gross tonnage on the Brazil run, the average was c.300 tons over the period 1769–1836 (see Table 6.4). There was a trade surplus in Portugal’s favour of c 20 per cent in 1796; there was a commercial deficit of the same scale, not of the same value, with Brazil. Detailed information has recently been analysed relating to the number of vessels arriving at Lisbon throughout the eighteenth century and in the early decades of the nineteenth century (Fructuoso et al., 2001). It confirms the broad trends established by other writers (Borges de

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Another Metropole: Lisbon

Table 6.4

Brazil: Export phases, 1500–1800

England Holland Hamburg Spain Italy Russia Berbería Other Areas

Imports (%)

Exports (%)

41 7 14 4 9 13 6 6

33 2 33 1 16 0.5 7 7.5

Sources: Adapted from Balbi (1822) and Bebiano (1960), calculated in réis.

Macedo, 1982; Labourdette, 1988). It verifies significant increases from the 1730s, when more than 1,000 vessels a year arrived. The next 30 years register a slight but not a disastrous drop. In the early 1780s, again, the curve of arrivals is ascendant and this phase closed in 1805. Indeed, there was one difficult period extending from 1793 to 1795. Again in 1805, there was another first, as it was the year when a historic total for colonial goods were landed at Lisbon: some 267,231 tons were discharged. Thirty years earlier, the annual total landed was in the order 106,943 tons and this figure gradually rose towards the 200,000 ton mark by the end of the century. After 1805, it began to fall dramatically and only 72,000 tons were recorded in 1835. Foreign boats carried the lion’s share of goods in and out of the port of Lisbon with the exception of the Brazil and the Orient trades. Information for the year 1831 highlights the scale of their involvement (Fructuoso et al., 2001). In that year, 418 boats sailed and of these, 300 were foreign; the figures for Oporto were 289 vessels with 226 being foreign; for Setúbal, of the 420 arrivals, 225 were foreign registered. In some years, 1799 for instance, more than half of all Portugal’s maritime trade was carried on English vessels. The ships of competitor nations never carried more than one-tenth of the cargoes on the move; that figure was the exception rather than the rule. On several occasions, the number of English vessels was inflated by the arrival of naval supply vessels. However, the larger vessels arriving at Lisbon from European waters were those from the Baltic, Prussia and Holland (Fructuoso et al., 2001). Lisbon handled from two-thirds to three-quarters of all of the state’s general export and import trades. It rarely handled less than 60 per cent of all cargoes on the move. Lisbon after all sustained its superlative curriculum. Its hegemony in maritime affairs was related to its role as an imperial and state capital. It was an entrepôt and redistributor of goods of all kinds, the most significant internal market in the state and the principal hub for maritime and terrestrial communications. It had the most extensive and varied hinterland of any port on the peninsula, adding another vital if underrated dimension to its activities. Oporto and Setúbal were firmly in the second rank and each of these depended, almost exclusively, on trade in a specific commodity; for the former, fortified wines and, for the latter, salt. Viana, the ports of the Algarve and Figuiera da Foz were almost totally concerned with local and regional shipping movements from the mid-eighteenth century onwards. Their maritime traffic was largely directed to the nearest major port or to Lisbon. In spite of the fruits of much recent scholarship, it has been argued that because of major gaps in data reporting maritime activity, it is not possible to recognise unambiguously continuous shipping trends, external trade and port-trade conjunctures (Fructuoso et al., 2001). For that reason, it is also difficult, at present, to connect the port activities with the wider economic conjunctures associated

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

with the commercial performance of the state. Despite these entrenched difficulties, comparative data for several years are available confirming again the dominance of Lisbon. Interestingly, it also shows that between 1796 and 1799, Setúbal and Oporto accounted for c.15 per cent of maritime traffic and for three out of those four years, Setúbal led Oporto. The three larger ports remained dedicated to distinctive activities, for most of the eighteenth century and well into the following one. It has been shown that, in times of crises or recession, there was little, if any, interdependence, between them. Complementarities were evident certainly in their exclusivity (Pedreira, 1994). Another facet of distinctiveness is revealed by the data concerning the ‘nationalities’ of the ships calling at Portugal’s leading ports. At Oporto, English ships rarely accounted for less that 60 per cent of the total; by contrast at Setúbal, Danish and Swedish boats carried out most of the salt.

Lisbon’s foreland On average, 20 per cent of eighteenth-century national exports went through Oporto. Compared with earlier in the century, it is abundantly clear that Lisbon had even further consolidated its position at the head of the league of ports. Oporto’s position in terms of the throughput declined slightly. Most noticeable was the savage erosion of port traffic at most of the state’s other smaller ports. There were some exceptions; Lisbon, for instance, handled 99 per cent of all the transactions with the ports of Berbéria, while Oporto landed 53 per cent of all imports from Russian ports. Remarkably, Lisbon handled 96 per cent of all imports from Spain and over 80 per cent of all exports. In this way, trade with Portugal’s nearest neighbour, was almost exclusively conducted by sea. Portugal’s exports to England accounted for only c.6 per cent of all England’s imports between 1700 and 1777. However, that proportion grew as more bullion arrived. Indeed, over the same period, Portugal became England’s chief source of bullion. It is not easy to account for Lisbon’s enhanced position in the late eighteenth century as the country’s premier port matched against the relative and absolute decline of many ports. Terrestrial connections between Lisbon and many inland centres and even other ports were weak until quite late into the nineteenth century (Alegria, 1985). Certainly, many facets of Pombal’s political economy strongly favoured Lisbon, not least the manufactories, which he encouraged, and the monopolistic Luso-Atlantic trading arrangements. What it does confirm is the rapid recovery of the port of Lisbon after the earthquake. Even Oporto’s overall share of maritime transactions diminished during this period. Most of the Portuguese-produced goods, except for wine, leaving Lisbon for the ports of northern Europe consisted of unprocessed, mainly agricultural goods, such as fruits for which there was such a relentless demand in many armies and navies (Bebiano, 1960). Re-exports of colonial products, chiefly coming from Brazil, were also a singular feature of trade and included old staples and cotton, rice, rubber, and, of course, tobacco. There was much more variety in the range of incoming goods and different clusters of specialisation are evident. Moreover, a significant proportion of the manufactured, or processed, goods, were re-exported to Portugal’s colonies, to Berbéria and to other ports of the Mediterranean, especially those of Italy. Cereals and biscuit were fundamental ingredients of incoming cargoes from nearly every European port, including those of Russia. Otherwise, different northern Atlantic European ports dispatched to Lisbon a variety of manufactured goods, raw materials and food products, including fish and butter, great quantities of which went on to Brazil. The presence in Lisbon of Junot’s troops in 1807 and the imposition of an English naval blockade immediately afterwards, prompted the commercial fortunes of the port of Lisbon to

Another Metropole: Lisbon

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take a nosedive. The emergence of an independent Brazil dealt a terminal blow to Portuguese transatlantic commerce. No longer, then, could Portugal play the role as a supplier of colonial goods across Europe. American and English interests rapidly appropriated Portugal’s former commercial position. The port of Lisbon witnessed its more profitable functions simply evaporate and henceforth it managed to only import Brazilian commodities for domestic consumption.

Reconstruction and re-orientation during the nineteenth century Unlike the Spanish monopoly ports of Seville and later Cádiz, Lisbon was a capital city. Despite losing its privileged Pombaline commercial security bolstered by the Luso-Atlantic monopolistic trading system formerly vested in oceanic companies, Lisbon could still call on many resources. It did not become a ghost town like Cádiz, nor did it become ‘marooned’ like Seville. Throughout the nineteenth century, Lisbon had to adjust to new circumstances. Its maritime trade with the ports of western and northern Atlantic strengthened, while simultaneously diminishing with its remaining colonies. Growing industrialisation, the consolidation of a financial sector made up of banks, insurance and shipping companies helped to support commerce. The railways opened new markets for, and in, the interior and they quickly contributed to the amplification of Lisbon’s hinterland (Alegria, 1983). The laying-out of the railways and the improvement of the primary terrestrial routes had profound consequences for the leading port-cities (Alegria, 1983). The earliest lines constructed in the 1860s were built not simply to satisfy the ambitions of the merchant-exporters (see Figure 6.1 above). Rather, the political economy promoting them attempted to solve one of Lisbon’s perennial difficulties, namely the transport to that city of a reliable food supply, especially from the wheatlands of the south and east (Justino, 1986). Simultaneously, this same line connected Lisbon with Europe overland through Spain. Even more significantly, Lisbon was deliberately made the pivot of the Portuguese railway system. Soon afterwards, Oporto was connected to Lisbon and a series of lines were constructed inland that initially competed with existing river transport practices. Railways were, in the end, responsible for the demise of the key rivers as commercial arteries (Barata Salgueiro, 1987). The period extending between the 1870s and the 1890s saw most railway construction take place and, by 1902, some 2,386 km of line had been built (Justino, 1986). The consequences of this early period of railway construction for the ports, for the spread of market economy, or for the intensification or internal region disparities are unclear. Many of the agricultural products grown in railway accessible zones, such as oats, could not bear the transport tariffs and remain attractively priced at more distant destinations. Now foreign exports, coming in from the ports, could be dispatched to most corners of the country and these, often-cheaper products frequently undermined traditional products or manufactured items. Most of the goods produced in the countryside in nineteenth-century Portugal were consumed locally or regionally and only a small proportion was carried by rail to the ports, where they were either consumed or exported. Imports behaved in a different way: they fanned outwards to the countryside mainly from the two key ports by river and later by rail. Three phases of railway construction have been identified between 1844 and 1910 (Alegria, 1990). The first of these covered the period between 1844 and 1876, when private interests initiated often over-zealous projects. There followed a period, between 1877 and 1890, when private/public railway construction projects came more into vogue. The final phase extended between 1891 and 1910 and was one during which the state was compelled to frequently rescue bankrupt companies to deliver what were then believed to be strategic requirements.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

In this way, the railways added a new and vital dimension to the transport system while, at the same time, they further consolidated the roles of the chief ports that acted as their principal termini. The railways cannot be cited as the sole agents responsible for the demise of smaller port settlement. Nor can they be declared as exclusive catalysts that were accountable for the re-ordering of the port hierarchy, as ranking at the upper end of the hierarchy was already well established before they were laid out. These successes also facilitated the physical expansion of Lisbon and led to a steady rise in its population. An outcome of these transformations was to focus the minds of the state and the urban authority on the delivery of infrastructures that would enhance efficiency and free up congestion in both city and port. Thus, some major new arteries were laid out which contributed to decisive morphological change (see Figure 6.5).

Figure 6.5

Lisbon: Late nineteenth-century boulevards and avenues. After Barata Salguiero and García (1998) and Guàrdia et al. (1994), p. 109

Industrialisation began to develop steadily during the second half of the nineteenth century. Soon, Lisbon’s industrial structure acquired a number of distinctive features. It had the greatest concentration of large plants, it was composed of the most varied industrial ensemble and it had more workers engaged in production than in any other centre and more people occupied in state supported facilities. Finally, much of what was produced in these centres was exported through Lisbon’s port. In the city, at mid-century, a number of industrial foci had emerged, the two most important of which were sited to the north at Sacavém and around Alcântara with smaller nodes close to the city centre at Campo Grande and Lumiar. In 1852, a nation-wide industrial census reported that some of the largest factories at Lisbon were highly mechanised textile units with large labour forces. Three factories alone had a combined workforce of 1,138 people (Justino, 1986). At the same time, some

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5,657 operatives were involved in industrial production at Lisbon. Nevertheless, at that time some 5,007 people were similarly employed at Oporto. The key distinction in particularly industrial employment structures between the two port cities rested in the much larger workforces per facility at Lisbon. Iron and steel production associated with ship construction formed another important sector at Lisbon. State-owned plants also accounted for many workers such as the mint, the national print works and the chief arsenal. One of the last vestiges of colonial commerce was the national tobacco works with 1,324 sited at Xabegas. During the 1840s and the 1850s, a small number of banks were founded, the three largest of which, including the Banco de Portugal, had their headquarters at Lisbon (Justino, 1986). Two major insurance companies had their chief offices there; three others were located at Oporto and, at the same time, a series of industrial holding companies were founded, only one of which had Lisbon as its centre of operations (Lains, 1986). This growing and diversifying financial sector developed at Lisbon more as a consequence of the success of the commerce and the tertiary sector of the economy than as an outcome of rapid and profitable industrialisation (Justino, 1986). As a prescient nineteenth-century observer recorded, only two economic regions existed in Portugal, each riveted around its port city, but the economic transactions between them were tenuous (Forrester, 1853). Railway construction in the mid 1860s, besides linking Oporto and Lisbon, allowed the latter to extend its hinterland to Coimbra (Melo, 1881). The most important result was that the wines of Bairrada destined for Brazil, which used to be sent via Oporto or Figuiera da Foz, now went to Lisbon for shipment. As has already been noted, the chronology and the sequence of the development of the railways further entrenched, especially after 1860, the pivotal roles of Lisbon and Oporto in the national circulation of goods and it also contributed to solving Lisbon’s chronic cereal supply shortages (Alegria, 1983). However, low prices for the cereals did not help the railways. It remained cheaper to ship cereals to Lisbon for at least another 50 years, even from external sources, as railway transport tariffs inflated their costs (Justino, 1986). Better roads and new roads were perceived from early on as indispensable for progress; huge delays attended their construction. Enhanced connectivity, by means of new or improved arteries of communications during the second half of the nineteenth century, was not tantamount to the attraction of more traffic or the stimulation of regional economic development. If anything, it helped Lisbon, and especially its port, to assert nationally its economic primacy. In the second half of the nineteenth century, a number of factors must be taken into consideration in relation to Lisbon’s growing pre-eminence as the premier port city. First, overland traffic, by rail and road, was increasingly diverted towards Lisbon, as most investments were made in routes that were linked with it (Alegria, 1985). Second, government came to the realisation that national economic progress was dependent on efficient, well-funded and provisioned ports. This policy was, in part, realised by the construction of the new port at Leixões and heavy investment in port infrastructures at Lisbon. Third, there were the implications of changes in ship types, supply and demand for staples such as cereals and new distinctions between short-distance, mainly tramping routes and long-distance trades. These were other vital ingredients contributing to Lisbon’s growth (Alegria, 1985). Even the presence of five additional rail overland connections with Spain, in the last quarter of the nineteenth century, did not erode the position of Lisbon. More than 80 per cent of the goods sent by Portugal to Spain still went by sea. Research has confirmed that between 1848 and 1910, Lisbon’s share of the total growth of the internal tramping trade significantly grew, while trends elsewhere were of decline, except in the larger ports of the Algarve and at Oporto where expansion was faltering and unimpressive (Alegria, 1985).

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Another interesting alteration was the gradual replacement of sailing vessels by steamships. Here Oporto was anomalous, in that after recording an earlier major decrease in sailing ship traffic, between 1901 and 1910, these ships accounted for three quarters of all vessels at that port. In contrast, long-haul shipping traffic was almost exclusively associated with Lisbon and to a lesser extent with Oporto throughout the nineteenth century. The growth in this trade, measured in tonnage or value, far exceeded coastal, mainly national, shipping movements (Alegria, 1985). Lisbon’s maritime trading relationships in the nineteenth century entailed three dimensions. England constituted Portugal’s major source of manufactured imports, followed at some distance by France. Portugal’s ex-colony, Brazil stayed as a major market and the remaining colonies, chiefly those of Africa, were increasingly a source of valuable raw materials. Between 1865 and 1879, anywhere between a half and two-thirds of all Portugal’s exports found their way to England and the composition of the trade changed little from the previous century. This was the case earlier in the same century (Bebiano, 1960). Out of Portugal went fortified wines and raw materials. Coming in the other direction were textiles, implements and machines. In terms of value, Lisbon disembarked more imports while Oporto’s wine trade accounted for most exports. Over this second half of the century, the trade balance was always in England’s favour sometimes by a factor of two to one (Halpern Pereira, 1983). American, French and German cereals also were landed, again mainly at Lisbon, and terms of trade with these countries were never in Portugal’s favour. Brazil served as Portugal’s second trading partner over the same period and, once again, most of the goods moving in either direction passed through Lisbon. About one-fifth of Portugal’s exports and re-exports went to Brazil and the value and range of Brazilian goods coming back to Portugal steadily diminished as the century progressed. This allowed Portugal to sustain an increasingly favourable balance of trade with that state. Slave transfer to Brazil from Portugal’s African possessions finally petered out in the 1850s and merchants in Africa were obliged to adapt to new circumstances with some degree of success. Exotic items soon came to reflect that considerable diversification had taken place in African exports, which, in turn, often became re-exports out of Lisbon. So robust was the growth of this trade that, at the end of the century, African imports were equal in value to Portugal’s principal export, namely wines (Halpern Pereira, 1983). Nearly all of these trades were focused on the port of Lisbon. Tinned fish products became a major Portuguese export by the close of the century and much of the output of canning factories, which developed at ports, were ultimately assembled and exported abroad from Lisbon (De Aboim Borges, 1991). During the early part of the nineteenth century, Oporto’s growing manufacturing prowess robustly challenged Lisbon’s economic pre-eminence. It was, however, a short-lived threat. Various factors contributed to Lisbon’s success. Among these was the fact that its port retained almost exclusive control of most of the long-distance trade; most of the re-exports also left this port and most imports arrived there. In addition, Lisbon was the leading redistributor of imports across nearly all of Portugal. The railway system had Lisbon as its national hub and this was the outcome of government intervention (Alegria, 1983). Also, industry was more diversified at Lisbon, there were more large-scale units and their products had easier access to markets than rival Oporto throughout its foreland and hinterland. In banking and finance, Lisbon emerged as the national centre after 1876, and, by 1892, its position in this respect was almost unassailable (De Sousa, 1970). It is pertinent also to recall that, especially during the last quarter of the nineteenth century, the maritime activities at Oporto had become massively constrained by an entrance bar. Conflicts still simmered for a protracted time between opponents and supporters of the plan to build an entirely new port at Leixões (Justino, 1986). Over the same period, and particularly after 1880, the government and the municipal authorities

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at Lisbon funded an ambitious series of extensive infrastructural improvements at Lisbon’s port, which endowed it with colossal handling advantages (Maia Nabais et al., 1987).

A new city emerges How did the physical and social structure of the port city change over the long nineteenth century? Population increase offers a crude template of transformation as do rates of population growth. Slower increases were recorded before the 1850s; after that, acceleration was brisk. In 1864, there were some 197,000 residents, this climbed to 243,000 in 1886 and, by the close of the century, the total was not far off half a million. Prior to mid-century, notable morphological changes were fewer and less perceptible. As in Spain, many religious properties were confiscated by the state. Only wealthy investors with capital were able to purchase many of the smaller properties. Public ownership of religious estates allowed for some subsequent significant redevelopments such as the laying-out of some of the great avenues (see Figure 6.5). Modest economic growth is confirmed by a blossoming of the tertiary sector in the districts of Baixa and Chiado. In these areas, many shipping lines had offices and there was an expansion in the numbers of new warehouses, shops, libraries and a host of other cultural and retail outlets. The initiation of railway transport, linking Lisbon in 1856 with other parts of the state, witnessed profound expansion, regeneration and reorientation of the city’s layout. Indeed the construction of a major ring road around the city in 1852 was another benchmark date as it established, what was in effect, a new fixation line (Barata Salgueiro and García, 1988). The outer limit of this route quickly became an aspirational limit for infill. The line skirted along the edge of the estuary before entering the city. It was in this area that some of the early larger industries were installed, such as a tobacco factory, grain mills, textile production and an energy producing facility. The provision of an inter-urban tramway also facilitated the physical expansion of the city and made the central area more accessible from its outskirts. It was an era when both the state and urban authority often played a decisive interventionist role just as had transpired during Pombal’s ascendancy. Early on in the period, the city limits were expanded, acknowledging the fact that many outlying centres were, by then, functionally linked to the city. The promoters of municipal planning quickly recognised that the insertion of new infrastructures would have to be economically sustained and these requisites were evident in an 1864 plan (Maia Nabais et al., 1987). Only partially implemented, it was not until 1904, that it won final approval. The laying-out of a number of broad and extensive boulevards in the latter half of the century made a fundamental contribution to the morphological transformation of the port city. The most important axes were the Avenida da Libertade, which was opened in 1879, and to its east the corridor that became known as the Avenida Almirante Reis (see Figure 6.5). The extension to former boulevards was structured around a series of majestic rotundas, out of which a further series of streets extended. The vacant zones between these impressive thoroughfares were shortly urbanised. Many state offices moved to these more accessible locations. The result was that for the first time in nearly a millennium, the seaside hub at the Baixa lost many of its core functions; it retained its symbolic pre-eminence as the city moved inland. This led to the partial abandonment of age old links with the port. This transformation was also a testament to the reduced role of the port in the overall urban economy. Industry, services and burgeoning employment in municipal and state administration furnished the city with a more complex functional structure that represented a huge rupture with the past.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Again, appearances can be deceptive. The Baixa retained a very strong productive capacity until well after mid-century. Not only could it claim to still have a large labour force employed in situ, it could also correctly assert that it was the most representative industrial sector in the city, because more types of industry were present there in 1881 than in any other part of the city (Barata Salgueiro and García, 1988). In addition, the areas with the largest number of people returned as employed in industry were located close to the estuary where marine and railway transport were vital and where space was available for production and residential construction. Late nineteenth-century Lisbon became a major inward migratory honey-pot and thousands sought to participate in the new employment opportunities. It was in this way that some of the great industrial residential suburbs emerged on the fringes of the city, sometimes in areas that had been formerly the favoured zones of the merchants and the nobility. Known as vilas, these were often cramped and insalubrious additions to the urban fabric. They were exactly similar to the ilhas that developed at the same time, and in similar circumstances, at Oporto (Teixeira, 1985). These types of extremely modest residences were built by factory owners who wanted to have their workforce close at hand and many were able to top-up their bank balances by charging inflated rents for miserable accommodation. Figure 6.6 confirms the association between these types of residences and industrial establishments in several parts of the city.

Figure 6.6

Lisbon: Vilas, housing and industry. Adapted from Guàrdia et al., 1994, p. 111, Figure 33

Oporto and Lisbon: Contrasts and correspondences There were distinctions evident in relation to shipping movements out of Lisbon and Oporto. More ships left Lisbon with cargoes meaning than many arrived in ballast; conditions were reversed at Oporto (Mappas Gerais do Comércio de Portugal, 1852). Lisbon enjoyed much trading interaction with all the minor ports along the coastline of Portugal. Oporto did not. In fact, there were more shipping movements between Lisbon and a number of smaller ports north of Oporto

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such as Caminha and Viana do Castelo, but even here Oporto trailed behind (Mappas Gerais do Comércio de Portugal, 1852). Lisbon supplied goods produced within its port and hinterland besides redistributing colonial goods and commodities arriving from the smaller ports, though Oporto hardly engaged in these kinds of trades at all. The scale of dominance exercised by both Lisbon and Oporto and on all aspects of external trade is highlighted by the fact that in 1856, between them they accounted for 98 per cent of all imports and 90 per cent of all exports (Mappas Gerais do Comércio de Portugal, 1855). How can this ascendancy be accounted for? For the most part it was a legacy of Pombal’s rigid political economy, which, in 1774, reduced the privileges of, and investments in, ports such as Aveiro, Caminha, Esposende, Viana do Castelo and Vila do Conde and barred them from engaging in certain maritime trading activities. Oporto benefited enormously from this prohibition and a contemporary observer noted that the trades of the ports mentioned above were, almost in their entirety, transferred to Oporto (Rebelo da Costa, 1954). Both Oporto and Lisbon also held exclusive rights regarding the importation of most colonial goods and, as some of these items, such as cotton and silk, were basic raw materials for textile production, it meant that these ports held comparative cost advantages as both producers and redistributors. The pre-eminence of these ports, both as exporters and importers, in the midnineteenth century is revealed by the fact that all the other ports combined only accounted for 2 per cent of all imports. Apart from major differences in the value and volume of goods noted above, which were sent out from Lisbon and Oporto respectively, there were also major distinctions in the nature of the cargoes dispatched. In 1854, the cargo breakdown for Lisbon was as follows: 32 per cent was accounted for by wines, cereals of all kinds tallied to 16 per cent, a miscellaneous category made up of fruits, salt and metals of all kinds came to 23 per cent. Eighty per cent of Oporto’s exports were wine-based and the rest were composed of small amounts of agricultural raw materials and salt (Justino, 1986). The role of these two ports as redistributors to smaller ports along the coast is also relevant. Raw materials from minor ports were assembled at the prime ports and then exported. Going in the opposite direction were manufactured goods and colonial imports. How, then, did these deeply ingrained patterns of interaction evolve? First and foremost, the inheritance of the Pombaline portspecific political economy, described above, must be reckoned with. In addition, powerful and well-connected merchant houses thrived in these two larger ports and their agents often organised shipments out of other ports. The export of citrus fruits from Setúbal was organised by merchant houses at Lisbon and most of the dried fruits and nuts sent abroad from Lisbon originated in the Algarve (Faits, 1867). Consequently, other ports were bereft of the ‘informatic’ infrastructures required to sustain the constant movement of goods and disdained as residential centres by merchants; they therefore could not compete with Lisbon or Oporto.

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Chapter 7

Castile and the Atlantic In the sixteenth century, excluded by the monopoly from colonial commerce, several Basque and Cantabrican ports developed a measure of vitality from trading networks founded upon the commerce of the export of raw materials to northern and western Europe. Many have considered the Asturian, Cantabrican and Basque ports merely as outports of a vast and complex region; this is a false assumption. It is no easy task because entwined in this drama are some of the not fully understood processes that first precipitated the rise, then the rapid decline of Spanish imperial economic and political hegemony (Gentil da Silva,1967). On the other hand, to understand the rise of Castile and particularly its ports in the earlier part of the same century, one has to grapple with processes including the consolidation of Spain as a powerful multinational state and the evolution of Spanish national identity (García Fernández, 1985). That is not all. Much has been written about the Spanish wool trade, which was Castile’s early engine of growth (Phillips and Phillips, 1997). While not subject to a colonial monopoly, the wool trade was operating under the aegis of cartel regulations of the Mesta, a sheep-owner’s guild, which was a monopoly in itself (Klein, 1920). It was also administered by the Consulado at Burgos upon which its later Sevillian counterpart was modelled. Spanish merchants resident outside the peninsula acquired commercial expertise later put to better effect in the New World. It was, at least for some, a training ground put to good use later at the Sevillian metropole. For these reasons, it is pertinent to assess the contribution of the settlements and ports of this complex region to Spain’s Atlantic commercial endeavour. It starts with a consideration of the Atlantic wool trade and its contribution to urban growth and port development. There is then an assessment of the dynamic relationships that emerged between the ploughmen, cowmen, shepherds of Castile and the Atlantic. The focus is then set on the rise and demise of the chief urban centres involved in the trade and concludes by examining the implications of the declaration of Madrid in 1561 as capital of Castile and the Atlantic. After all, Castile was a major producer of raw materials; wheat, wine wool and wood exports underpinned the evolution of many ports and here the tone is set for the later consideration of the contributions of two specific ports namely Santander and Bilbao. Neither the waters of the Atlantic nor those of the Mediterranean wash the shores of ‘inland’ Castile. However, for some time, it depended on the vitality of the Atlantic (Kamen, 2003). Indeed, the Atlantic was the conduit for Spain’s most important export, namely the Castilian language and the culture complex associated with it. In Islamic times, Castile was riveted to Al Andalus in the south; since the completion of the reconquest, apart from its relationship with Seville, it has never again looked in that direction. How the can this extensive and complex inland Mesetan realm be considered as an ingredient of the Atlantic world? First, long before the end of the ‘reconquest’, its exports, mainly consisting of raw materials, were sent northwards to other Atlantic ports, and vital imports such as fish, furs, ships and wood moved southwards to Islamic Spain. Resident Spanish merchant communities were ingrained elements of the social topography of ports such as Bruges and later Antwerp. Lest we forget, the Spanish Netherlands was a leading constituent of a disparate European empire whose

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capital was located on the Meseta. All in all, it was a dynamic connection that thrived during most of the sixteenth century. The spatial and economic articulation of the peninsular Spanish state was, to say the least, awkward in the sixteenth century. Its most dynamic area was Andalusia, focused upon energetic Seville. Its capital was in Castile. This was somewhat mobile, having moved from Valladolid and finally anchored at Madrid. The peninsular Corona de Castilla then consisted of Andalusia, the two Castiles, Extremadura and Galicia. It was a custom union entered through a number of inland customs posts [puertos secos] from other parts of the same state such as the Basque lands (Lapeyre, 1981). Connectivity overland between, and even within, Castile was appalling. Recent overviews have perhaps over-stressed the economic uniformity of Castile and remain oblivious to the centrifugal forces at work before, during and beyond the sixteenth century (Kamen, 1993). True, Castile was a unitary region in political terms; it was characterised by only a modicum of cultural and economic uniformity. It produced many excellent raw materials, notably cereals and wool, and its major towns had, for a while, resident foreign merchant communities who animated a well-oiled trading infrastructure. First and foremost, it is impossible to give credence to the notion of the Corona de Castilla as a uniform economic zone. Lower Andalusia was virtually autonomous, as were some ports and their hinterlands on the northern coast of the peninsula. There were other areas that were effectively marginalised by being physically cut off from the rest of Spain, such as much of Extremadura and almost the entire border region with Portugal and Galicia. Also, the startling growth of newly designated state capital Madrid from 1561 undermined many of the inter-urban and interior-coastal relationships that had solidified in northern Atlantic Iberia and indeed within the entire peninsula and even beyond (Ringrose, 1983). The rapid flowering of Castile and its equally dramatic demise took place in the context of these internal contradictions and a host of external pressures (Molinas and Prados de Ecsosura, 1989). The extraordinary economic and volatile demographic behaviour of Castile’s leading urban centres in the sixteenth century is a testament to these difficulties and incongruities. Economic decline in lower Andalusia in the seventeenth century occurred for different reasons, and its manifestations and outcomes were not a carbon copy of what transpired in what we now call Old Castile. As Rahn Phillips correctly asserts, too much credence has been allocated to viewing ‘... the economy of Spain as a dependant variable reacting to’ many of the pressures detailed above; ‘… but there were really several regional economies active at this time’ (1982, p. 531). Old Castile did indeed carry more economic clout than contemporary Aragón. It did not share with Andalusia such an intense degree of urbanisation or urban economic integration and, in addition, its tenuous and poorly maintained overland connections with the Guadalquivir valley were often ruptured. It is then any wonder that when recession set in, its leading towns withered so dramatically? It would take a greater stretch of the imagination to envisage all of New Castile as part of the same economic reality. In the sixteenth century, most of the processed products from Old Castile went north, often out of its ports, such as Bilbao, Castro Urdiales and Santander, as did a smaller proportion of production from the larger towns of New Castile. Castile, especially Old Castile, was, economically at least, locked into a northern inner Atlantic world. It was not then a simple question of ‘... wide differences in climate and geography that created several economic units in the county rather than one’ (Kamen, 1993, p. 15). Distances, settlement patterns and the absence of proper overland communications were more critical. The ancient tortuous and overlapping cañadas reales [royal recognised pastoral routeways] and veredas [pastoral routeways] used by the Mesta for moving sheep were probably the most important axial communications between Castile and Andalusia or Extremadura until the eighteenth century or later (Saenz Ridruejo and García Martín, 1986). There can be no doubt that Castile could stand up alone as a distinctive region. Somewhat later between 1750 and 1756, data from El Catastro

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de la Ensenada show that the majority of its rural population – with the exception of the province of Avila and La Montana – were classified as labradores or hortelanos [gardeners]. Many indeed were owner-occupiers. In Andalusia, Extremadura and the provinces of New Castile, the Catastro confirms that most were landless jornaleros (Vilar, 1982, p. 71). For our purposes, the hinterlands of the then small, but vigorous Basque and Cantabrican ports on the coast, including most of the wool-producing centres of New Castile and the great fair sites where the wool was gathered, such as Medina del Campo and Burgos, made up this world. The unique role of Burgos as an ‘inland’ anteport was also involved, as were the source areas in the Basque provinces for the iron ore that was shipped northwards. Also included were the textile producing towns of both Old and New Castile, including Cuenca, Segovia and Toledo (Reher, 1990). They configure a spatial reality that effectively accounts for the sixteenth-century emergence and growth of the port town complexes of Cantabrican and Basque Spain. In economic terms, what sewed this vast region together was a combination of inertia and default. It consisted of the towns and their hinterlands and whatever areas of north central Spain were ‘left over’ and did not fit into, or belong to, any other economic region or system. It was held together by national strategic necessity, through religious and royal administration and precious little else. Until the arrival of the railways from the mid-nineteenth century onwards it defies reality to designate it as an urban system. We can fully endorse Ringrose’s view that there was no graded urban hierarchy; with Madrid towering at the top, the next largest town was nearly five times smaller (Ringrose, 1996, pp. 24950). Indeed, his otherwise excellent analysis seems marred by his confusion of urban systems with urban networks. In essence, Castile consisted of several necklaces of inland towns and their immediate sheep-producing hinterlands sharing overlapping overland communications with the ports of the Basque provinces and Cantabria. An instance of such was Medina del Campo, linked to Burgos and from then either to Santander or Bilbao. To appreciate the stunning oscillations in the economic structure of the region and its larger settlements and, in addition, to explain the evolution of the Cantabrican and Basque ports, a preliminary requirement obliges us to examine why, and how, Castile quickly blossomed and suddenly wilted. The underlying reasons for the economic growth in Castile remain obscure. Some critical processes of promotion were undoubtedly the startling rise of wool production (Rahn Phillips, 1982), the intensification of grazing (Ruiz Martín and García Sanz, 1998), the growth of population, the influx of American money, the intensification of agricultural production, the expansion of improved land and especially the area under crops, and increases in commercialisation of the rural surplus and trade. There were urban-based stimuli as well; these included astonishing urban population growth and physical expansion in a limited number of centres, the intensification of textile production, the strengthening of artesanal production, a construction boom resulting in the building of many elaborate secular edifices, churches and cathedrals, as well as the embellishment of many municipal buildings, such as town halls and plazas mayores as, for example, at Astorga, León and Palencia (Calderón Quijano, 1953).

Atlantic wool trade Too often historians have sought to ‘explain’ or prove that the problems of Castile were simply related to its (physical) ‘geography’, as the earlier quote from Kamen neatly illustrates (Kamen, 1993, p. 15). A contemporary explanation of its recent decline illustrates how complex a region we are dealing with (García Fernández, 1981). Indeed Kamen, in part, seems to adduce the decline of Castile on the basis of the over-exploitation of its tenuous physical assets. Others too have

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summoned crude deterministic physical variables to account for economic failures. One such invocation stresses ‘dry Spain’, which covers two-thirds of the country and forms a vast area, little of which, it is incorrectly claimed, is suitable for cultivation (Houston, 1964; Lautensach, 1967; Rahn Phillips, 1982, p. 533). Few have invoked the possibility of climate change as an independent variable! In fact, from the viewpoint of production, lower slope angles, often better soils and high irrigation potential makes many parts of Castile superior for production than the precipitous slopes of Asturias, Cantabria, Galicia and Páis Vasco [Basque Country]. The problems of forging and especially maintaining all weather roads between the northern coastlands and the Castilian Meseta lie not in the physical insuperability of the mountains. They reside in the failure to devise and implement a strategy for the building and maintenance of such infrastructures. Physical features alone cannot be held responsible for developmental failures and economic deficits (Rahn Phillips, 1982, p. 533) For a 150 years, between 1500 and 1650, encompassing a lot more than the region’s ‘Golden Age’, Castile remained a source region for raw materials such as wool, iron ore, timber and wine (Bilbao and Fernández del Piñedo, 1995). It never went the extra mile in colder economic times. Returns from these products were not enough to protect the region from decline. True, many larger towns reinvented themselves, in as much as they became important major textile producing centres; apart from textiles, little else was made (Iradiel Murugarren, 1974). Of them all, wool was the most critical product (Rahn Phillips, 1982). Contrary to the claims of a recent review, which asserts that sheep herding was associated with the moving frontier as it pushed southwards, the nature and the origins of wool production and sheep raising are more complex (Ruiz Martín, 1998). First, the frontier was not always ‘moving’ (Glick, 1979). Cattle ranching developed initially closer to the frontier in most areas and especially in the south of Old Castile (Bishko, 1963). Most critically, sheep farming usually developed within settled communities in concert with ‘dry farming’ of cereals or other land uses, such as olive production. Apart from the major annual migrations, the sheep remained in small flocks within pueblos or parish-based village communities (Vassberg, 1984). They could not be managed, for obvious reasons, in large flocks in the same area for extended periods. Also ‘Golden Age’ Castile was a region of villages and it had many medium and small owner occupiers (Molinié-Bertrand, 1985). How sheep herding and wool production came to dominate the region are issues that lie outside the scope of this work. Undoubtedly, the rise of the Mesta was a fundamental step in its evolution. Its initial privileges go back as far as 1273; how and why it emerged to enjoy such success and rapidly transform into a national institution remains obscure (Ruiz Martín, 1988). It was one of the first institutions of early modern Spain to be seriously and critically assessed (Klein, 1920). Even today, the scale of its role as a moulder and transformer of landscapes and societies is hardly understood (García Sanz, 1988). What is incontrovertible is that before the ‘Golden Age’ proper, that is the sixteenth century, the wool trade was well established in Castile, as was its leading promoter, the Mesta (Ruiz Martín and García Sanz, 1998). Great fairs flourished at Medina del Campo, Burgos and Medina del Rioseco; it was Medina del Campo, however, that emerged as the pre-eminent selling centre with resident merchants and financial facilities. The ‘infrastructure’ that wool depended upon was ambulant and dispersed throughout the production zone in many towns and villages. Wool washers were concentrated for instance in Melgar de Fermental in the province of Burgos and at Nájera in Logroño. Elsewhere, there were concentrations of combers, assay-masters and carriers, besides the merchants and their agents. Sorters divided wool into two basic classes: fine and ordinary. Throughout the century, numbers of both people and sheep increased. The consequences of these developments are not entirely clear. Common lands were enclosed or deployed to act as grazing zones, often against the wishes of local communities. It may also be a fact that the surviving

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woods of the region were also removed to furnish more space for grazing and for episodic tillage (Bauer, 1980; Hopfner, 1954). Wool, as recorded by many scholars, then came to link a series of communities across Atlantic Europe (Basas Fernández, 1963; Rahn Phillips, 1982, 1983: Bilbao, 1988; Phillips and Phillips, 1997). The fluctuations in the volume of wool exports did not simply represent vicissitudes in the Castilian economy. They signified more complex relationships. Three broad leading phases have been recognised in the vitality of the trade represented by the intensity of wool exports: an initial climax is apparent in the early 1550s to be followed by a trough that continued through most of the seventeenth century and that, in turn, was superseded by a phase of growth that continued well into the subsequent century (Rahn Phillips, 1982, p. 777). Bruges was initially the principal northern entry point. It is also clear that enormous quantities of Spanish wool went to Italy and especially Florence. The high point of this Bruges trade coincided with mid-century. After that, it declined and this diminution seems to be related to a series of disparate, though sometimes inter-related factors that included differential demands for food and wool production in Castile as the rural population rose inexorably. More wool was also being retained in Spain to support the burgeoning cloth manufacturers. War with France and changing tastes for cloths and textiles in northern Europe also took their toll on the trade. Bruges had a significant resident Spanish merchant community who had founded their own Consulado to deal with the management of the trade (Marechal, 1953). Given the value and the volume of wool movements, it is not surprising to learn that the Spanish merchants were the leading and predominant foreign merchant group at Bruges. They were also represented at Antwerp. Because this city discharged more diverse trading activities, no single group of foreign resident merchants could even hope to maintain supremacy. Antwerp was, after all, one of the most dynamic hubs of European trade; for this reason, it had attracted very influential and wealthy German and Italian merchants. It has been estimated that, by mid-century, there were some 300 resident Spanish merchant families at Antwerp (Phillips and Phillips, 1997). From the 1570s, Spaniards literally melted away as a distinctive group. Smaller volumes of wool reaching Antwerp, the bankruptcy of the crown and the intensifying political turmoil in the Netherlands combined to erode their activities and well-being. In France, at Nantes and at Rouen, there were also resident Spanish merchant communities with many Burgalés amongst their ranks (Jeulin, 1929; Tanguay, 1956). How and from where was the wool shipped? Elsewhere in this work (see pp. 231–83), the wider roles of the Castilian ports are the subject of scrutiny. Bilbao was its principal port; it exercised no monopoly. Santander, Laredo, Castro Urdiales and smaller ports such as Deva shipped smaller quotas (see Figure 7.1). The process of shipping wool was a complex and often a protracted process. Increasingly, it became the concern of the Consulado at Burgos to send the wool northwards protected by two convoys in March and October (Smith, 1972). The wool had to be stored, then loaded on to the ships, insured, shipped and safeguarded, unloaded onto lighters, dispatched to Bruges, unloaded, warehoused and finally sold on. An army of agents and attendants were required for all of these manoeuvres and a horde of scribes recorded the passages of the merchandise. With so many movements, an equivalent range of problems could undo each shipment of wool and make any enterprise a disaster. Increasingly, from the 1580s, the flow of wool northwards diminished. The foreign resident Spanish merchant communities began to turn their skills to other trades and gradually faded away as a distinctive group as they intermarried within their host communities. The Consulado at Burgos declined in importance and Burgos itself experienced catastrophic population loss (Hiltpold, 1980). The network that supported the wool trade in northern Europe broke down; one of its vital elements, the Consulado, ceased to function. On the ground, wool production continued, albeit at a reduced rhythm, to supply the textile production centres within the country. In the end, the

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Figure 7.1

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Northern Atlantic Iberia: Mid-eighteenth-century urban populations. Adapted from Fortea Pérez, 1997

producers, the merchants and even the state were overtaken by events whose outcomes they could neither individually, nor collectively, decisively influence. The changing geopolitical topography in the relationships between Spain, the Low Countries and France in the last quarter of the sixteenth century witnessed an ephemeral flowing of Spanish commerce at Rouen. It was especially associated with the decades of the 1570s and the 1580s. Wool was the leitmotif and several critical cultural transfers were made that included cloth finishing and sugar refining. French business practice was also enhanced by the introduction from Spain of maritime insurance underwriting and other new business norms (Rahn Phillips, 1983, p. 270).

Ploughmen, cowmen and shepherds Outside most specialist monocultural agricultural systems, nobody should be surprised to encounter tensions between proponents of different rural enterprises. So it was in sixteenth-century Castile, where there were, on the one hand, those associated with the Mesta and all it stood for and, on the other, a constituency that included landowners and rentiers dedicated to tillage and most urban interest groups. The constant collisions of interest between these groups did not produce ‘an agropastoral balance’ (Vassberg, 1984, p. 151); they engendered unstable asymmetrical relationships where advantage between the opposing forces was always changing to judge from frequent legal depositions and demands for arbitration. In the sixteenth century, the tillage lobby gradually gained the upper hand in the court. There were some geographical issues here. Originally, mestas had emerged adjacent to the frontiers in reconquest times in areas that were invariably experiencing severe population deficits and labour shortages (Bishko, 1963). Ecological conditions in these areas favoured extensive pastoral activities combined with arboriculture and cereal production. Conversely, in Old Castile, opportunities for tillage were superior and the only extensive areas that could accommodate some pastoral activities were the parámos [dry, open upland tablelands]. There were grazing possibilities on common lands. Cleared lowland woodland offered opportunities for cereal farming. If tillage was to prosper, it could only accommodate limited numbers of animals even for short periods. This conundrum allied with rapidly population growth proved to be an explosive issue as the century wore on.

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Most of the towns and rural areas of Castile grew often quite spectacularly. Persistent agricultural surpluses sustained by favourable weather conditions and the absence of severe epidemics have been cited to account for these increases. The region was lightly populated, so these early demographic gains went largely unnoticed. Initially, increase was slow and hesitant so that the cumulative result was a moderate rise (Bennassar, 1983). Growth must be viewed within the perspective that between 1480 and 1580, the population of Spain doubled. It happened despite the exodus of many young men to the colonies and to the armies and navies of Spain, and the allure, for many others, of the benefits of holy orders and celibacy. Population increase was patchy, in time and space. If a generalisation could be made, it would be as follows: slow to moderate population increase began in Castile; it was higher in the larger towns and cities. In the south, growth came later; here it was more sustained and dramatic. Meticulous analysis has demonstrated that by the 1560s, in many parts of Castile, growth had levelled out, or had finished (Brumont, 1978). The towns were of a different order; they grew faster and then displayed increasingly opposing tendencies of growth and decline towards the end of the sixteenth century. In the next century, there was a demographic and an economic nose-dive from which recovery took centuries (García Fernández, 1981). As growth continued, gathering food demands ensured more lands were put to the plough and often common lands were enclosed as a consequence of these pressures. It is also possible that there was a knock-on effect from the overall growth in agricultural commodity prices resulting from intense colonial demands. These pressures were especially felt in Andalusia, where between 1511 and 1559, the price of wheat doubled, the price of olives tripled and value of wine increased by a multiple of eight (Vassberg, 1984, p. 164). In this way, some of the Castilian agricultural surplus found its way to Andalusia via the northern ports from where some was shipped on the colonies. The appetite of Castile’s larger settlements also was a spur, lifting commodity prices as well as the value of land. Viticulture also thrived (Huetz de Lemps, 1967).

Cities, towns and villages Reher (1990), taking a cue from De Vries (1984), claims that ‘Golden Age’ Castile was characterised and almost defined by an urban system. This may well be a premature categorisation. There was a scattering of towns and smaller settlements. Quantifying, even in the crudest manner, the intensities of interactions between them is a real problem. The same author is correct when he notes that different towns in Castile specialised in different functions almost to the exclusion of all others, giving them a ‘modern’ hue. Other activities varied in importance and meticulous case studies have shown that iron works, metal production, papermaking and tanning were practised (Vassberg, 1984). The evidence at the moment suggests that trading towns of the Castilian Meseta were linked to a few coastal ports in necklace-like fashion rather than acting as some form of regional urban system. Initially, it can be argued that there were two loosely linked nascent groups of towns (see Figure 7.1). In the south, Toledo (Weisser, 1973; Ringrose, 1983; Montemayor, 1987) was the commercial and artesanal linchpin. Cuenca (Reher, 1990), Avila and Segovia (Barrio Gonzalo et al., 1987; García Sanz, 1977) and Talavera were vibrant textile-producing centres (González Muñoz, 1975). Valladolid (Bennasser, 1968; Molinié-Bertrand, 1985) was the seat of administration in the north and Burgos acted as the chief trading centre, the two Medinas (Marcos Martín, 1978; Moraleja Pinilla, 1971) were ephemeral fair and financial centres and towns such as Salamanca and Zamora were pulsating artesanal centres (see Figure 7.1). Madrid’s designation as capital in 1561 put the cat among the pigeons in that it created new stresses. To claim this was a well-‘integrated system’ (Ringrose, 1983) must remain an excessive assertion; there is little evidence of a constant or

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sustained interaction between the cities. Most of the interaction appears to have been one way. Trade was directed to the northern ports and onwards to ports of Atlantic Europe, especially Antwerp. Old Castile was, since its reconquest at least, a region of villages often anchored around a castle and church and elasticised along a main road. Castrogeriz, in the province of Burgos is a good instance of such a linear settlement. This village structure remained remarkably stable in the extended period between 1600 and 1850, when the numbers residing in these kinds of settlements only rose from 11.94 to 11.96 per cent (Gelabert, 1995, p. 282). Cloth production became the economic cornerstone of most of the larger Castilian towns; wool preparation was a more widely scattered activity involving both large and smaller settlements. It was an enterprise conducted in scattered workshops where many cloths were ‘put out’ to looms elsewhere, often outside the towns. The designation of these activities by many scholars as an industry given its actual characteristics seems premature and unwarranted (Reher, 1990). In the early part of the sixteenth century, many of the conditions demanded by the modern concept of proto-industrialisation were evident in Castile’s towns; labour was abundant and cheap, raw materials (wool) were plentiful and there were strong demands from external markets for goods.

Three sets of towns Effectively, two sets of towns were involved in wool: the first set was in the north Burgos was essentially an inland anteport dispatching wool to the coastal ports, principally Bilbao (see Figure 7.1). The establishment there in 1494 of a state-sponsored merchant/trader guild, El Consulado – a forerunner of, and model for, the larger Sevillian one – consolidated its position as the chief commercial centre and nodal point in the skein of communications that linked the Meseta with the northern coastal ports. The sheep and wool from the great fairs at Medina del Campo and elsewhere went on to Burgos and from there to the coastal ports. The towns involved in the wool-processing sector were the more firmly established of southern Old Castile and of New Castile/La Mancha and they made up the second set. The cloths produced in these centres were dispatched northwards to Burgos and onwards to northern Atlantic ports, or to France, or southwards to Genoa. Antwerp and Genoa were then Europe’s capitals of capitalism. Little investment was made in enhancing productive capacity or infrastructure in Castile, so when colder economic winds began to blow in the early seventeenth century, Castile’s nascent economic boom withered as rapidly as it had bloomed (Kamen, 1993, p. 171). It is worth briefly examining some the fortunes of some of these centres in so far as their activities and experiences related to the careers of northern port towns. There were also a third set of towns such as Valladolid, Palencia and Salamanca sustained by other mainly administrative or educational functions. Viticultural activities were critical in many smaller settlements along the Duero valley and its products were traded chiefly to northern Europe (Huetz de Lemps, 1967). Medina del Campo High state tax-takes and a resident merchant population are discriminating, yet indirect, indices of trade intensity. In the middle years of the sixteenth century, Medina del Campo was a clear leader of the pack in terms of tax-take with 2.4 million maravedis. Burgos was second with a total take equal only to half that of Medina’s and, far behind in third place (González, 1958), was Valladolid whose total was five times smaller that that of Medina (Lapeyre, 1981). In relation to the size of the resident merchant group, we should not be surprised to see that Medina, with 14 individuals, headed this league. These leading merchants or hombres de negocios were those who

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paid a contribution of 50,000 plus maravedis. There were only eight residents at Burgos and a mere three at Valladolid. Other large centres such as León, Salamanca and Zamora had no such august residents (Bennassar, 1983). Medina was at the top of this hierarchy in the early 1560s with 47 merchants, four factor/agents of foreign companies, and 29 cloth and textile merchants. The vast majority of these people were Castilian and there were a handful of outsiders that included five from France, two Italians and two Flemish merchants. While wool went outwards, many of these hombres de negocios imported goods such as wax, copper, cloths, paper, playing cards and tin chiefly from the Low Countries, England and France. Most of these trades ebbed and flowed through the port of Laredo. Simon Ruiz, one of Medina’s best known merchants, however, relied on the port of Bilbao for his imports, much coming from Nantes (Lapeyre, 1953). In this way, Medina was essentially a commercial and mercantile centre. It quickly evolved into a major financial exchange node whose activities had regional, national and international reverberations. It’s throughput of sheep and wool in the sixteenth century was a barometer of Castile’s well-being. It also matured into a critical national centre for the sale and redistribution of imports acquired by its wealthy merchants. Its fairs, whose origins remain unclear, were the touchstone of its success and every aspect of the settlement from its physical and social fabric, from its plaza to its occupational structure, were pervaded by commercial exchange. In spite of its achievements, it was never designated a ciudad, it stayed a villa (Marcos Martín, 1994). Nearly a quarter of a century later, Medina had maintained its position at the crest of the hierarchy in terms of several diagnostic indices. This was no mean achievement in the face of severe economic, political and social reverses (Lapeyre, 1953). How did Medina sustain this position? First of all, it was the locale for the largest sheep/wool fairs on the peninsula and it attracted a host of elements involved in this trade. The most critical element was bankers and financiers, who initiated the import of goods from external sources for a society in which some of its members had become increasingly wealthy. It had a population of c.12,500 in the mid-sixteenth century. While it may have headed the league of Old Castillian settlements in terms of the indices outlined above, it was the demographic understudy of both Burgos and Valladolid. One suspects that it had a more footloose population than most other large settlements swelled by the vigour of the fairs easily denuded under inclement conditions. The presence of so many labradores in its sixteenth-century population suggests such a characterisation. At the start of the same century, with a population of some 20,000 people, it may well have led the demographic league. This high watermark coincided with the most active dynamic and energetic phase of marketing activity. In 1561, its recorded total was just below 15,000, which represented an early phase of gentle decline. In 1597, a resident population of less than 9,000 records a more calamitous phase of weakness. The increasing tally of houses returned as ruined and uninhabited was also an ominous testimony of the collapse of trade (Bennassar, 1961). Several authorities have managed to successfully link the momentous decline in Medina’s residential fabric to the onset of changed economic circumstances (Marcos Martín, 1994). The insolvency of the state whose fiscal activities had once bolstered Medina had, by the mid-sixteenth century, begun to undo its prosperity. Higher taxes, imposed by an empire drained by military expenditure and bankruptcies provoked by its overseas military adventures, have been recognised as a critical subverter of trade. Many contemporaries refer to economic disarray and, in the final quarter of the century to chaotic conditions at Medina, so much so, that foreign traders, were ordered by their respective authorities to avoid any credit transactions. By 1683, Medina had lost its marketing privileges. This reflected the assumption by both Alcalá and Madrid of trading and financial functions making them serious competitors. Sustained migration, recorded by various censuses and eyewitnesses, may account for the lower plague fatalities there at the end of the

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century (Vincent, 1976). Medina never regained what it lost. It grew slightly, but most hesitantly in the latter half of the seventeenth century and only the arrival of the railway rescued it from utter oblivion in the 1860s. There was also the other important fair centre of Medina del Ruyseco (Rioseco). Over most of the sixteenth century, it occupied third placed in that province’s urban league with a population of some 2,242 vecinos or 7,000 plus in 1587 and its decline mirrors that of its rival Medina. Not too far distant was Villalón de Campos with some 3,000 residents in 1528; it never threatened its rival Medina and it also lost population in the first decade of the seventeenth century. Burgos ‘city of wool’ Burgos had nearly 70 hombres de negocios, and of these, four had fortunes exceeding 100,000 maravedis, much of it related to the importation of woad, which was used as a dye, via the ports of Bilbao and Santander. The woad seems to have originated in French Atlantic ports, having been carried there from the Azores. Fine stuffs came in from Rouen where there was an active Spanish trading community. Burgos also maintained active trading links with the Low Countries and various types of semi-finished metal goods counted for most of this trade (Basas Fernández, 1963). It also held on to its runner-up position in the hierarchy despite enormous setbacks, especially in its commerce with England and the Low Counties. This achievement was facilitated by expansion in its trade with neutral France, chiefly through the port of Rouen. Much of the wool was dispatched to northern Europe via Burgos whose early commercial role was consolidated by the foundation of a merchant Consulado, a formal guild, in 1494 or possibly at an earlier date. It had evolved out of a Universidad de Mercaderes. The merchants of Castile who traded from Flanders had their guild in operation by 1336 (Smith, 1972). Urban Ordinanzas confirmed its functions in 1538 and rules specified that its members must be residents of Burgos and involved in trade. The vicissitudes of the Consulado at Burgos came to be inextricably linked with the fortunes of its rival port rival centre, Bilbao (Guiard y Larrauri, 1913–14). Burgos was essentially a wool depot. The wool came from the fairs at Medina and Villalón, was packed and graded there and then sent to the coastal ports, chiefly Bilbao. To service this complex of movements, there was an army of brokers, bankers, insurers, wool merchants, shipowners, captains and carriers. Eight thousand mules carried the wool in sacks to the ports. In the best years, up to 80,000 sacks of wool were marched over the sierra to the coastal ports. The Consulado then served as a regulator for all of these complex arrangements. Burgos then rose to prominence in the fifteenth century and its merchant/factors could pick and chose the Cantabrican ports at will by simply playing one off against the other. Several factors conspired to allow Bilbao to emerge as the chief locale for wool exports and the principal port of northern Iberia. Among these was its distance from Burgos, possession of a fine sheltered harbour, growth of iron extraction, shipbuilding and munitions production, which provided it with a tradition of enterprise (see pp. 258–61). The enlargement of the commercial and productive capacity of Bilbao sharpened the rivalry between it and Santander. The policy of the Burgos Consulado was clear; it sought to acquire and sustain monopoly in wool trade. Consuladopromulgated ordinanzas in 1594 allowed the Burgos merchants to export wool on ships chartered by it from any port in northern Spain. The royal decree of 1511 established by the Consulado of Bilbao ensured that the merchants of Burgos never achieved their desired monopoly despite constant attempts by Castilian merchants to thwart the shipowners of Bilbao. This Castilian cartel devised many ruses to undermine their rivals at Bilbao including the use of other ports for shipping and especially the selection of Portugalete, lower down the river Nervión as a transhipment centre

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(see Chapter 11, Figure 11.2). Economic decline, which affected Castile, gradually loosened Bilbao from the shadow of Burgos and by the late sixteenth century, it was Bilbao that called the tune. A token measure of the decay is revealed by the fact that in 1535, 119 merchants attended a Burgos guild meeting, but only eight assembled in 1661. One thousand marine insurances were issued between 1567 and 1569; from 1594 to 1619, there was only one incomplete register. A mere tally of 823 households, which included clerics and widows, mirrored the demographic slump (Smith, 1972, p. 71). Despite its shortcomings and its acute rivalry with Bilbao, the presence of the Consulado was a fundamental cog that, by resolving disputes and ensuring quality control, chartering ships, contacting foreign and Spanish merchants, ultimately facilitated the prosperity of the wool trade and the communities of Castile who depended on it for their survival. Population growth at Burgos was meteoric in the early years of the sixteenth century: in 1560 it was 24,000; in 1591 it only reached half that total – a 39 per cent decrease (Molinié-Bertrand, 1985, p. 135). In 1631, the tally was less than 7,000 residents. These figures are misleading, however, as population growth was positive, for the most part, in the first decade of the seventeenth century. Burgos, like many others in the region, had to wait until the nineteenth century to witness its early population peak exceeded. Another vital sector of the Burgalese economy was a vigorous tanning and leather sector. In 1561, there were some c.280 skilled artisans working in allied trades. The presence of many skilled artists employed by the wealthy merchants and the church is further testimony of its wellbeing. It was also an important military centre and it produced munitions especially for artillery. Segovia With a population of 27,563 in 1591, Segovia came to occupy one of Castile’s top three positions. It was the principal ‘making’ settlement of Old Castile where textile production reigned supreme (Le Flem, 1972). Of the active population, 77 per cent was committed to this work. Paper production occupied a significant auxiliary position. The primacy of production is especially emphasised by the fact that it boasted the largest active population in the region (Bennassar, 1968). The precocious decline of Burgos was a key factor that contributed to a ‘Golden Era’ at Segovia, especially between 1570 and 1590, and its 133 major resident merchants reflect this specialisation (Ruiz Martín, 1998). No other major settlement in Old Castile was so exclusively linked with wool production. The development of urbanisation in ‘inland’ Castile owes much to the role of institutions such as the church during the reconquest and also the emergence of pilgrimage routes to Santiago along the Duero valley (Glick, 1979). León and Valladolid are typical examples of the types of urbanisation that evolved in this area where routeways, good land and water for irrigation were always basic requisites. Initially, most of these settlements were modest in size and they served as episcopal and secular administrative centres. They also discharged important marketing and fair functions and boasted of a considerable artesanal population (Bennassar, 1967). Most too were well defended by stout walls that were often extended and rebuilt. Valladolid was different. Up to 1561, it was both state (here kingdom) and regional capital. Madrid assumed this role in that year. A severe fire in the same year led to a unique early planned reconstruction by architect De Salamanca, who designed a magnificent plaza mayor as its centrepiece (Guàrdia et al., 1994, p. 270). Undoubtedly, the early part of the sixteenth century marked Valladolid’s most explosive phase of growth, one of whose chief characteristics was the emplacement of many convents and new suburbs outside the walls. Prior to the transfer of the court to Madrid, Valladolid was the seat of a number of influential and prestigious state institutions. The most important of these was the Real Cancillería, which acted as one of the primary organs of the state. Several thousand people were involved in its activities and those of the court. Politics and administration were thus amongst the principal economic anchors

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of the settlement. Here too were located a portfolio of imposing and impressive convents and monasteries. Valladolid’s ‘boom’ can be located between 1540 and 1560, and during these years, it experienced considerable physical expansion. Outside its municipal limits and walls, huertas and fields were urbanised, and soon these open spaces and gardens were also replaced by buildings (Bennassar, 1967, pp. 41–144). Was Valladolid in the mid-sixteenth century a city or a town? The presence of most of the state’s apparatus, the court, tied in with its ancillary functions, its large population and its complex occupational structure are all discriminating elements that favour city classification. Its occupational structure was discrete, mirroring its principal functions. Its ‘making’ sector was extremely weak. In 1561, only 19 percent of the active population was attributable both to the primary and secondary sectors, as against 48 and 57 percent for Medina and Segovia respectively. Its bloated tertiary sector was complex, it was not solely composed of categories of administrators, but also had a large rentier group. These sectors nourished those involved in other occupations within the settlement and little of what they made was traded outside Valladolid. This claim is further endorsed in its elegant buildings and morphology represented by the presence of its magnificent public spaces, notably its plaza mayor, its impressive public buildings including a cancillería, ayuntamiento, a university, prisons, its many colleges, churches, monasteries and convents, its thoroughfares and bridges. Another dimension that enhanced its urbanity was many elaborate and majestic and monumental secular residences. It was not an inland anteport, but one of Spain’s chief settlements. Could it be regarded as an Atlantic city, at least in the sixteenth century? Some confirmation of this is supplied by the court’s constant intervention in matters of trade and commerce with the north and with Flanders, in particular in the settling of disputes between erstwhile rival consulados and ports, and by patterns of inmigration where they can be traced. One signpost here for the orientation of the city is evident from a study of the movement of apprentices into Valladolid. Virtually 50 percent came from the north, including Old Castile and only a handful came from south of the city and elsewhere in inland Spain (Bennassar, 1967, p. 234). Its population profile exhibits a series of dramatic, often violent swings. The loss of the state organs and the destructive fire of 1561 together brought catastrophic consequences and brutally ended the ‘boom’. This conflagration also destroyed those few sectors of the settlement engaged in productive activities. A census for 1561 counted some 6,572 houses, nearly 800 of which were declared vacant: there were some 6,644 vecinos; by 1570, the tally had fallen to some 5,587; by 1591 it had risen again to 8,112 (Bennassar, 1967, p.166). In the first decade of the next century, it had risen to c.65,000 when it acquired, for a very brief period, its capital function again. By 1631, it had slumped to 21,000; in 1787, it registered almost the same total, but by 1860, it had doubled to c.40,000. It only exceeded its seventeenth-century tally in the early years of the nineteenth century (Benassar, 1967). It is difficult to explain the significant growth of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, as Valladolid’s outstanding biographer Bennassar (1967) leaves this issue far from resolved. Madrid’s elevation was certainly decisive, as was the shake-out that transpired in so many other Castilian settlements. A sure measure of the vitality of the Castilian economy was the growth of Palencia, a mere 50 km from the regional and state capital Valladolid. By 1530, it had a population of just over 7,000. Its demographic high water-mark of 11,526 occurred in the year 1587. Between 1591 and 1599, there was a nose-dive and only 5,143 people remained (Herrero Martínez de Azcoitia, 1958). By 1602, another 2,000 were added to the total but after that it fell again. Salamanca was different. It was almost exclusively a university centre. It was not a serious player in the wool trade. By 1528, it notched up a population of just below 20,000, some 6,000 of whom were students. The year 1571 marked its demographic high tide with 26,000 residents; there were in addition 8,000 students. By 1591, it had lost at least a fifth of its population and this

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continuing decline is confirmed by the census of 1598. The outer limits of the system of Castilian settlements on the north-west were made up of villages, with the exception of the capital León, whose population rose from 152 pecheros in 1528 to 1,264 vecinos in 1561 and fell modestly to a total of 1,034 in 1597.

The decline of Castile Litanies of causes have been paraded to account for the undoing of Castile and her major urban settlements. The downward descent began in the early 1580s and it had many manifestations. Growing weaknesses were represented by dramatic falls, especially in urban and rural population totals; there were marked declines in the production of textiles and in numbers at work in processing (Yun Casalilla, 1987). There were fewer imports and exports moving through the ports, a huge falloff in the number of sheep at the critical fairs, a collapse in prices (Pérez Moreda, 1980). There was a return to harvest failures, food shortages and local and subsistence crises. An epidemic came ashore in 1596 and especially ravaged Castile over a total of six years (Bennassar, 1969). There was a huge reduction in well-being. What processes triggered such a set of catastrophes? Can it be accounted for in a Malthusian framework of excessive population growth drawing on limited resources whose end result was plague, famine and destitution (Rahn Phillips, 1982)? Was it the outcome of an unequal battle between population increase and higher sheep stocking densities matched by the need to produce more food (Lovett, 1989)? Or was it the consequence of excessive seigniorial exactions or higher taxation or inappropriate landholding structures (Kriedte, 1993)? There can be no doubt that we must be dealing with a context of multiple causation where some scholarly rationalisation has erroneously so far put more stress on internal failures, such as ‘geography’, rather than external pressures, or combinations of both. Monocausal explanations of such precipitous decline are inadequate for such an extensive and complex region and, evidently, a conjuncture of process and events coalesced to gradually weaken and slowly unravel many of Castile’s remarkable successes. Problems were manifested first in rural areas and considerably later in the larger towns, which, in many cases, continued to grow long after rural declines were evident. Harvest failures were important and, as yet, it is unclear what provoked them. Scholarship, through meticulous regional studies, may well reveal that the intensification of tillage, perhaps combined with its extension into less productive soils and climatic change played a contributory role. Maybe the shepherds and the Mesta were right; after all, it was they who railed against the loss of pasturage privileges and warned of severe ecological consequences (Llopis Agelan, 1986). Food production fell and deficits had to come from elsewhere, as agriculture locally became more self-sufficient. The production and dispatch of wool also underwent modification. Wool exports declined, as did throughput of animals at the major fairs because of diminished flock sizes (Ruiz Martín and García Sanz, 1998). Wholesale and forwarding arrangements for wool also mutated and foreign merchants at the main ports came more and more to dominate the process (Rahn Phillips, 1983). Prices for basic victuals consistently rose and attempts have been made to link this inflation with the insertion of American bullion into the economy (Hamilton, 1934). The degree to which incoming ‘treasure’ sparked inflation and contributed to decline is still unclear. Both internal and external factors conspired to bring about Spain’s decline in the seventeenth century. Our purpose here is to focus on the implications of these difficulties for Castile’s settlements and their links with the Atlantic world. Before the decline took hold, there was a considerable consolidation in the incidence of fair; by 1567 those at Medina del Rioseco and Villalón had been

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relocated to Medina del Campo and banking activities also went in the same direction. We have already noted how weaker external demands for wool, state insolvency, population pressure, war and overdependence of one product, namely wool, contributed to a rapid and catastrophic series of problems for wool production and export. These developments were patently manifest in the dramatic losses of population in the towns and villages. Catastrophic mortality was not the prime cause of such a decantation of humanity; it was mainly brought about by internal migration and emigration, which was a popular reaction to changed economic fortunes (Pérez Moreda, 1980). Plagues also harvested enormous quotas of humanity (Bennassar, 1969; Pérez Moreda, 1994; Vincent, 1976). Medina’s fair was moved to Burgos in 1602 as a forlorn attempt to shore up its deteriorating condition. By 1604, it was evident that policy was a failure. Madrid’s confirmation as capital upset delicately poised relationships within Old Castile and helped to erode the commercial attractiveness of both Burgos and Valladolid. Spectacular declines were apparent in the cloth-producing towns in the south of the region such as at Cuenca, Segovia and Toledo. At Cuenca, prescient observers noted that in 17 years, cloth production was only running at 7 per cent of its former output in the year 1600 (Reher, 1990). Cuenca, like so many other centres, was devastated. Why did manufacturing activity so suddenly disintegrate in Castile? To date, a plethora of explanations have been offered, though none appears to have won general acceptance. One authority has posited a three-way process of urban de-industrialisation, rural industrialisation and urban ruralisation (Gelabert, 1995). While these notions may attract some semantic appeal, they have little merit, as has been earlier argued. Industrialisation is hardly the most felicitous manner to describe a manufacturing process and in this context, ruralisation is devoid of meaning as this authority explains the process as the transfer of productive capacity from the larger urban centres ‘to small towns and villages’, and a growth in the share of those working in agriculture and resident in cities (Gelabert, 1995, p. 286). The scale and suddenness of the decline still require comprehensive explanation. The demographic facts rehearsed here tell a tale of decline. As Molinié-Bertrand (1985) confirmed, contemporary arbitristas or social commentators of the day who ventured into print were also acutely aware of the economic problems and their demographic consequences. In their writings, they sought to identify a mixture of causative processes and scapegoats, besides offering remedies for the difficulties within which conspiracy theory was often prominent. The scale of the difficulties exercised the minds of writers such as Tirso de Molina in his La Joya de las Montanas: Dinos, ¿en qué tierra estamos, qué rey gobierna estos reinos y cómo tan despoblados tiene todos estos pueblos?

There were other dimensions of decline. One of the most discriminating was the number of despoplados in 1591 which are mentioned in the Relaciones históricos of Phillip II (Viñas and Mey, 1949). The interpretation of these data pose consummate problems, the most acute of which is that they do not differentiate clearly between urban settlements, chiefly villages, and dispersed rural settlements – a distinction that regrettably has not been grasped by researchers (Molinié-Bertrand, 1985, pp. 32–33). Curiously, the province of Salamanca records by far the highest number of despoplados in 1591, and several of these were simply large farms and not nucleated settlements. The area around Ledesma was especially scourged by abandonment. Why and how? A closer inspection of available evidence reveals an even more complicated framework because it confirms that abandonment was also evident at the start of the century. This rules out the most appealing explanation, namely that marginal parts of the province of Salamanca were, because of its location,

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more deeply pervaded by the repercussions of economic decline. In areas such as Burgos, where we might expect more severe decline in the late sixteenth century, few despoplados were reported. Tenurial conditions rather than general economic deterioration may be a more likely explanation (Molinié-Bertrand, 1985, p.35). Indeed, few insider and local explanations for the despoplados are telling. Among some of the most frequent explanations are plague, poor sanitary conditions, lack of water and, interestingly, not enough land for survival, losses of communal lands or baldíos, the fact that the well-off and the church had often corralled the best lands for their exclusive use and left only the poorer lands for the masses, soon becoming rapidly exhausted (MoliniéBertrand, 1985, p. 40). Lurking behind these explanations are all the signs of decline, precipitated by economic success and population pressure. Other studies stress the salience of degradation in many areas (Hopfner, 1954; Bauer, 1991). No attempt is being made to minimise the impact of external pressures promoting decline. There were issues related to the ineptitude of the state in managing its fiscal policies, the war–defence of empire syndrome, repatriation of merchant wealth, expulsion of the moriscos, the siphoning by the church of its enormous wealth into buildings and property, external pressures on the wool trade, the burgeoning growth of Madrid – the list is encyclopaedic! What is clear from the perspective of the countryside is the complex and contorted relationships that existed between society, settlement and the economy within Old Castile. Population pressure created all sorts of stresses, not least, in terms of land management. This was evident in the reduction of communally worked territories, the few remaining woods, and the question of local water supply and the absence of markets for isolated communities. Also, apart from Bennassar (1967), Ruiz Martín (1998), Molonié Bertrand (1985) and Vassberg (1984), there has been little investigation of the relationships between towns, villages and countryside. This makes the employment by some scholars of terms such as de-urbanisation and peripheralisation to explain the transformation of Castile a most uncertain explanation. True, it depends on how these terms are defined, contextualised and conceptualised – tasks in which few who have promoted these terms have bothered to engage.

Madrid as capital: Implications for Castile and the Atlantic world Did the declaration of Madrid in 1561 as capital of Spain suddenly produce an implosion in the sense of short-circuiting existing economic urban networks? The response to this query is affirmative; the difficulty relates to how the long-term fall-out from this event can be separated from the effects of other contemporary processes at work. Specifically, Valladolid experienced a sea change. New lines of communication emerged linking Madrid to its burgeoning hinterland (Ringrose, 1983). The problem is quantifying the degree and scale of deflection of goods and trade towards Madrid and away from the coastal ports. How long then did it take Madrid to erode the Atlantic orientation and vocation of the towns and trading patterns of Old Castile and why did it happen? Within the northern Meseta and between it and the surrounding world, there were various trade circuits that were ‘disturbed’ by the wool trades’ loss of vitality and the confirmation of Madrid as state capital. After the demise of the wool trade, Castile’s commercial links with the wider, and especially the north Atlantic world became significantly reduced. The flows generated by trading included moderate movements of goods in both directions between the coastlands, the mountains and the Meseta; this was often direct traffic of goods between Madrid and the northern ports and involved the supply to Madrid itself. There was also trade traffic between the various towns and villages and the larger centres; comarcal (regional) trade focused on local markets and interaction between Castile, more often by sea and other regions on the peninsula (O’Flanagan,1996).

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One might then draw an analogy from physical geography and compare the trade flows in Castile with the direction of water flow in an internal drainage basin. Madrid increasingly became the hub for commercial interactions. Internal, often one-way, flows to Madrid greatly outnumbered inter-regional or external interactions. This helps to explain one recent characterisation of Spanish ‘modernisation’ between 1700 to 1900 as ‘involution’ in circumstances where, it has been claimed that, inertia stifled innovation (Sánchez-Albornoz, 1985). Others have been more positive in their analysis and have argued that extensive cereal production was indeed an optimum response and solution (Gómez Mendoza, 1982). The general crisis and disarticulation of much of Castile in recent times so arrestingly and cogently reviewed by García Fernández (1985) strongly supports the latter view. Madrid’s arrival on Castile’s urban scene had seismic implications. It coincided with the rupturing of Castile’s connections with northern Atlantic Europe and it even contributed to the fracturing of that relationship. Between 1560 and 1630, Madrid added 145,000 to its population, making it tower above any of its Castilian rivals. Increasingly, Madrid became a major internal market for a range of life-sustaining commodities such as grain, meat and firewood. The strength of this market gradually intensified and it simultaneously undermined the drawing power of other settlements in the region. In the eighteenth century, as overland transport improved, the Madrid market further eroded the vitality of other regional markets and sapped their capacity to expand both demographically and economically (Ringrose, 1983). Madrid’s voracious appetite for these commodities impinged on every recess in both Castiles. In sum, Madrid’s grip on its expanding supply zone was enhanced and emboldened from the early years of the seventeenth century. It by no means smothered existing trading circuits. One can thus concur with the recent judgement that what came to be one of the most sensitive criteria defining the outlines of Castile was as the economic supply zone of Madrid (Ringrose, 1996, p. 252). It was a zone clearly not neatly coincident with the administrative boundaries of the Castiles. Madrid also established itself as the administrative hub of this region. Except for the wine trade of the Duero valley, Castile in the early seventeenth century had largely lost its Atlantic orientation, which was not replaced to any significant extent by commerce with any other major external markets. Comparing the mid-sixteenth century market-based Castile with the same area in the eighteenth century and beyond emphasises the changes that had transpired and that Madrid itself helped to shape. In the former period, Castile was a region of small and medium sized towns often interconnected by trading and further animated by a vibrant cloth trade. By the end of the first decade of the seventeenth century, these arrangements were in serious decline and many of the urban elites had departed the towns to Madrid. Castile became a tenuously integrated ‘region’ where administrative prerogatives rather than economic activities held it together until at least until the coming of the railways (Gómez Mendoza, 1982; Ringrose, 1996, pp. 252–253). The key question is when did economic resurgence replace administrative convenience? While some may not consider Madrid a city with strong Atlantic connections, as state capital it was linked to the Atlantic by Spain’s two critical maritime trading hubs. They were, first, the Guadalquivir valley and the Bahía de Cádiz and, second, a more diffuse necklace of port towns scattered along the Cantabrican coast (see Figure 7.1). Madrid was one of Europe’s ‘inland’ capital cities with no direct access to water transport. So different to Lisbon or Barcelona, the city drew towards it not only the wealth of its immediate Mesetan hinterland, but also many of the fruits of its colonial empire. In the seventeenth century, Madrid was a colossus: several times larger that it’s nearest rival, it dwarfed all its competitors. Madrid was a capital city and it was also sometime capital of the Hapsburg empire, whose kings, leaders and ministers operated on an imperial basis. This endowed Madrid with an imperial role, not simply confined to the political boundaries of peninsular Spain.

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In this way, it was different from Amsterdam, London or Paris. The curious relationship between Madrid and its immediate Meseta hinterland reveal some of these profound contradictions: Madrid grew explosively, its hinterland precipitously declined economically in the early years of the seventeenth century. This has happened again in our own day on the peninsula through the implementation of growth-pole policy. It experienced massive growth in its national central-placed functions and its role as a consumption centre long after the decline had set in Castile and long after the seventeenth century deterioration in the Indies trade. Madrid was a spectacular consumption capital; although its relationship with its hinterland was complex, it was by no means invariably negative. True, its urban rivals, such as Toledo and Valladolid, withered. As recent scholarship has emphasised, it drew inwards vast amounts of agricultural products, and energy in the form of charcoal and wood. Capital came in the form of the resources of the colonies and this insatiable appetite slowly lifted agricultural production and economic well-being in its Mesetan hinterland during the eighteenth century. Madrid then sent out little in return. Is it not a classic example of an economist’s nightmare? The backwash effect cascading down the hierarchy appears to have been negligible. There was another obvious relationship. There was a subtle connection between the well-being of the imperial capital and that of its colonies (Ringrose, 1983, p. 316). Improved political stability and enhanced flows of colonial silver during the first half of the eighteenth century were reflected in renewed growth (Prados de la Escosura, 1988). Population trends in the later eighteenth century illustrate this connection. In the 1750s, it had quickly risen to 150,000 from a stable figure of some 30,000 below that. By the late 1780s, it was 180,000, and it nearly topped the 200,000 mark at the end of that century. Ringrose’s categorisation of the coastlands as a periphery in relation to the ‘interior’ and Madrid as the ‘centre’ calls for critical comment (1983, p. 309). Until the seventeenth century, Mesetan Spain, especially Old Castile, was the demographic fulcrum of the state (Molinié-Bertrand, 1985). The Castilian collapse, matched with explosive demographic growth, particularly from the eighteenth century onwards on the coastlands, saw roles reversed. The Atlantic coastlands consolidated as Spain’s and one of Europe’s, most densely occupied zones, capable of supporting a vast rural population, without subsistence crises over a lengthy period. Admittedly, the swift acceptance of maize and potatoes facilitated this change. Political subservience and distance from Madrid created obstacles to development. Internal regional difficulties, such as those related to land tenure in Galicia, were more critical in arresting growth there than the dictates of the capital. Clearly, the situation was more complex. Accordingly, the notion of a core-periphery articulation may not be suitable here. From the mid-eighteenth century onwards, as noted earlier, the ports of Corunna, Bilbao and Santander were beginning to carve out careers of their own once freed from the manacles of the monopoly. Madrid was an imperial city that managed the affairs of a diffuse global empire that was as fragmented as its European possessions. Its demographic growth mirrors its incremental assumption of administrative responsibilities. It was not a major centre of production; it was a rapacious centre of consumption. It was a political city; others would claim that it was a parasitical settlement, as it devoured and dissipated the wealth it came to control (Ringrose, 1983). It was so unlike port cities and even the inland anteports of northern Old Castile. Spain’s then political homogeneity stood out in stark contrast to its economic heterogeneity, characterised by a discrete series of city hinterland relationships that even included both Lisbon and Oporto between 1580 and 1640. Contrary to the thesis of Ringrose (1983, 1996), Spain consisted of a multiplicity of economic regions rather than, as he asserts, a simple dual structure. For a while, the wool trade sharpened up and defined a pattern of interactions in northern Castile. With its demise in the early seventeenth century, the ports broke away from the tutelage of Burgos and Castile and each major one cut out its tributary territory. It is possible, however, to agree with Ringrose (1983, pp. 6–7) when he states:

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900 The peninsula is best seen as a large mosaic of self-sufficient local economies buttressed by short-range exchange of local commodities. The mosaic was criss-crossed by a web of economic connections. Occasionally, a few strands joined where a market, bishop, or governor or court dispensed services. Near the coast, the web was denser as the port towns provided the mercantile functions. The striking feature of this overlay of long-distance economic contact was its orientation to Madrid.

In the seventeenth century, the pull of Madrid was growing, it strengthened in the following century, yet it only exercised real primacy in parts of the Castiles. Madrid had to wait for the railways and better roads to achieve significant penetration to the coasts and, even then, it rarely established primacy over local ports. Decisions made in Madrid in relation to the regulation of prices for agricultural staples permeated throughout the state. It was the state’s financial capital as well as its social centre. It attracted immense inward flows of capital and spurred its physical development. It was in this way that Madrid overlaid all the state’s constantly changing economic circuits. Our concerns with Madrid are strictly confined to a consideration of its contribution to Iberia’s Atlantic economy, to the urban structures of Castile, as well as to the ports that supported it. Rapid growth as one of Europe’s largest inland cities transpired over a period when northern Old Castile was assailed by a series of difficulties that have already been detailed. Madrid’s growth, if anything, accentuated these difficulties; it helped to create new disparities. Specifically, it undermined the vitality of two centres, namely Toledo and Valladolid (see Figure 7.1). As a centre of consumption, its relationship with northern Castile and its settlements has been regarded as most negative in the seventeenth century, in as much as it consumed the surplus without investing anything in return. This line of argument contends that Madrid made or assisted in making Castile a periphery (Yun Casalilla, 1987). Close inspection of the impact of the processes afflicting Castile reveals that decline in its wool trade was well underway. Madrid’s ascent may well have exacerbated the situation; it did not provoke it. The demise of the wool trade, in a sense, ‘stranded’ northern old Castile by cutting it off from the coast and northern Europe. Its surplus then was diverted to be consumed, not by its elites, but by those of Madrid. Nor should we be surprised by the apparent paradox of Madrid: ‘discouraging economic development in its surrounding region’ (Ringrose, 1983, p. 13). In a peculiar fashion, the ascent of Madrid accelerated the concentration and the consolidation of higher order urban functions that was already well underway in Castile. The decline of trade, of wool-related activities, of financial functions, of productive capacities and administrative offices and the loss of the court removed a nexus of activities that had sustained a varied portfolio of settlements and exposed the weakness of all these centres, both individually and collectively. Madrid’s links with the ports of the Bahía de Cádiz and Seville had been ruptured early in the seventeenth century. Even after the recovery of this southern complex of ports from the last quarter of that century, much trade escaped taxation by the practice of various frauds. Still the government raised both revenue from taxes there and sometimes even credit. These were the principal financial links between Madrid and the south-west (Ringrose, 1983, p. 225). Earlier, in the late sixteenth century, domestic manufacturing in such centres as Córdoba, Granada and Málaga lost out to foreign competition long before the inward colonial trade declined (Ringrose, 1983, p. 227). In the latter part of the eighteenth century, revival of Castile’s economy was linked to cereals, which in turn, helped to reinvent a career for Santander and initially bolster the re-emergence of Bilbao.

Part III A Second Tier of Ports

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Chapter 8

Oporto: Fortified Wine and Colonial Commerce The established realities of the metropoles, with their large and varied merchant communities, their commercial networks, the presence of a host of regulatory institutions and their functionaries certainly acted to restrain the vitality and growth of other ports on the peninsula. With the close of the eighteenth century, colonial trade was soon to become a memory and all of these ports developed on the back of locally available raw materials, manufactured products or both, as in the case of Bilbao. Monopoly practices during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries effectively emasculated all of the other ports. Their main role was to supply the metropole of the time with raw materials. Santander supplied cereals and wood. By contrast, Bilbao furnished iron ore, cod (a re-export), wood and later manufactured items. Oporto was distinctive; its trade was largely driven by the export of fortified wines to northern Europe. Prior to the end of the eighteenth century, these ports received colonial and imported manufactured goods in return from their respective metropole. Whatever the case, the full rigours of the political economy, especially in the case of Spain, as expressed in the dictum ‘all trade, one port’, had devastating effects on the remaining ports. Some ports such as Corunna and Santander shrank and actually lost population and many smaller ports never breached a threshold of regional trading. Freedom to trade became a very gradual reality after the 1760s. Inertia may explain why so few of the other Atlantic ports engaged in any meaningful sense in colonial trade. Many suffered from years of stagnation, they were not large enough to sustain this kind of commercial dimension; few had the necessary business, financial or port infrastructure, they had no resident foreign merchants and their harbours could not service many of the ships involved. Four leading Atlantic port settlements have been chosen for analysis so as to illustrate their painful progress and the dilemmas faced by their merchants and shippers before, during and after the suspension of the monopoly. They are Oporto, Corunna, Santander and Bilbao and they have been titled the second tier. Over most of the period under scrutiny, they mainly acted as raw material suppliers for the metropoles and redistribution centres for colonial goods. The only exception was Oporto, considered in this chapter. There were many other smaller ports in the zone; none of them was able to sustain any significant commercial activities nor large populations nor resident merchant communities over the period which is our concern.

Trade and traffic prior to the eighteenth century In the twelfth century, 14 of Portugal’s 21 chief towns were ports (Ribeiro, 1963). Viana, north of Oporto, was the most dynamic northern centre (Sampaio, 1979). With a fleet of c.600 pinasses [small fishing craft], it was many leagues ahead of Oporto, which in 1258 only counted six at its Foz (Gonçalves Fernandes, 1992). By then, there was a settled group of Portuguese merchants at Bruges who subsequently, as has been noted, moved to Antwerp. They were traffickers of textiles

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and a variety of primary materials, especially fruit and wood. Viana merchants also traded with England, Ireland and the ports of southern Portugal and Spain, through the Mediterranean and North Africa, and more than 70 ships were registered there. By the end of the fifteenth century, Oporto had overtaken Viana as the most dynamic northern port and it counted as residents several foreign merchants (Sampaio, 1979). Studies of customs receipts confirm an extraordinary range of merchandise being then traded and they also register the amplification of its foreland to cover all of Europe (Guichard, 1992). Oporto also acted as an important redistribution centre for salt, so critical for the preservation of food products, and major quantities arrived especially from Aveiro (Kurlansky, 2002). This port in the sixteenth century had the largest cod-fishing fleet in Portugal. Soon afterwards, Oporto and Viana emerged as the most important cod landing and exporting centres in Portugal (Mountinho, 1985). Viana then became the location, in 1654, for Portugal’s third English feitoria, an acknowledgement of its prime trading role. Most of its resident merchants were involved in the exportation of Grand Banks cod. Many boats returning from overseas called to Viana and/or Oporto, where they exchanged slaves for wine that was then sold on at English ports. By the end of the seventeenth century, the activities of Viana’s English feitoria were progressively transferred to Oporto conceding to it an enhanced pivotal role as Portugal’s premier northern Atlantic port. During the seventeenth century at Oporto, there was a sustained, if slow, increase in port traffic. There were also some major variations in throughput of commodities and consequently there were several variations in the structure of both foreland and hinterland as reflected in the volume and directions of shipping movements (Pinto Ferreira, 1977). In addition, the growing prominence of commercial viticulture helped to transform the economy of the Douro valley and solidify its connections with Oporto (Guerra Tenreiro, 1942–44). Throughout the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, shipping movements were relatively stable. Towards the close of the latter century, they noticeably grew. Up to the 1670s, on average, 48 boats crossed the Douro sandbar. At the decade’s end, figures had doubled and 120 boats per year crossed, signifying a period of sustained growth (Rau, 1958). In the years immediately prior to the Spanish hegemony, Oporto’s import foreland was geographically restricted; it essentially consisted of four principal zones. Most goods came from nearby Galicia, Asturias and also through these ports indirectly from Castile came textiles, metal products, leather and fruits. From England and mainly from London, clothes and textiles arrived. Pernambuco in Brazil supplied cotton, and from France, cereals and textiles left the ports of Brittany, Flanders and Normandy. During the years of Spanish occupation, the components of Oporto’s foreland did not change drastically. Later on, the ports of north Germany, chiefly Hamburg, replaced those in England. Most exotic products that were imported had been redirected from either Lisbon or Seville. Changes that were more substantial became evident in the period after c.1660, as goods from England, France, Holland and Hamburg replaced those items that had been traditionally sourced from Atlantic Spain. From England came textiles, cod, metal products and paper and these goods were largely dispatched from London, Dartmouth, Weymouth and Plymouth. Imports of all kinds came from France and Holland chiefly through the ports of Bayonne (wool), Bordeaux (flax) and La Rochelle (brai), as well as cereals from many French Atlantic ports. The Brazil trade was weak at the time because of political turmoil. Wood for furniture and boat building came from Hamburg or Holland. A visitor to the port in 1669 recorded that its activities were relatively modest and noted that large quantities of locally produced goods, including cloths and re-exported wheat, were sent out to Brazil and most of the sugar that came in from the same colony was redirected on to Spain (Magalhães Basto, 1962–65). He also stated that very few slave boats arrived from Angola and that

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it had no direct maritime links with the Pacific. London stood out as the centre to which both gold and silver were often illicitly dispatched and this port too received the lion’s share of the 30,000 pipes of wine that were shipped down the Douro valley (Brito, 1993). This visitor observed that the London trade was very much a two-way exchange, with large quantities of textiles of all kinds coming in, and manufactured goods, metals and drugs going in the opposite direction. Handling most of these transactions were one Dutch, one French and nine English merchants. The most dramatic changes in Oporto’s trade foreland became evident during the last decade of the century, during which both the range of commodities on the move and the number of ports with which it traded expanded (Pinto Ferreira, 1977). For geopolitical reasons, London acted as Oporto’s principal overseas supplier and importer of goods, followed by Amsterdam, Hamburg and Rotterdam. Also, the number of English and Irish ports trading with Oporto noticeably diversified and its hinterland now extended northwards to include ports from the Baltic and Norway. Across the Atlantic, the Brazil trade began to intensify involving the ports of Bahía, Paraiba, Para, Rio de Janeiro and Pernambuco; cod also came from Newfoundland, the Grand Banks and New England. French and Italian Mediterranean ports were also in continuous contact and an inner foreland was composed of French, Portuguese and Spanish Atlantic ports including those of the Atlantic archipelagos. Primary products and manufactured goods went in both directions, as did large volumes of food. Many of the incoming goods were redirected to adjacent Portuguese ports, or dispatched around its hinterland. The few colonial products landed, chiefly sugar and exotic wood, were moved on to other European Atlantic ports.

Commercial success during the eighteenth century A profound transformation of the Oporto’s foreland, its hinterland and especially of the port city, which, as has been noted, began towards the close of the seventeenth century, gathered momentum throughout the following century (Pinto Ferreira, 1983). Contributing to its growth were a brisker trade with Brazil, the consolidation of the port wine business, the opportunities presented by the aftermath of the great earthquake at Lisbon and the innovative and spirited economic policies instigated by Pombal. Once again, detailed analysis of shipping movements, cargo contents and volumes helps our understanding of the growth of the port. There was no major additional area added to the port’s foreland during the eighteenth century; rather, intensification of trading transpired within the pre-existing contact zones, whose ranking, however, altered dramatically. The foreland now had three primary constituents. Brazil formed the most profitable one and, later, trade with that area was conducted by via state companies developed by Pombal. England formed another key zone and resident English merchants handled most of this trade. The third zone was composed of various ports located in north-western Europe. Over two key decades, a study of shipping movements reveals the scale of expansion at the port (Rau, 1958). The decades in question were 1733–43 and 1764–74 during which some 6,346 vessels entered giving an average monthly tally of 26 boats. A century earlier, in 1661, port records confirm that the monthly average was seven boats, so this represents a fourfold increase. An analysis of the home registrations of the boats reveals much regarding how the trade was managed. Slightly more than two-thirds were English, one-tenth Dutch and only one-sixteenth were Portuguese (Rau, 1958). Where did these boats ply from and what kind of cargoes did they sail with? Rau has shown that two-fifths came from English ports and one-third of these plied out from London. Textiles, manufactured metal products, staves and other wood products such as charcoal, cod and agricultural raw materials came from these ports. One-sixth of the boats came from Anglo-North America and its principal fishing zones. One-tenth originated at Bremen, Danzig, Hamburg or Lübeck and boats

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sailing out from these centres mainly carried traditional raw materials. In fourth place, vessels trading from Irish ports carried such items as leather, fish and food products. These were followed closely by ports in Holland, Russia and France. The Dutch supplied instruments of all kinds as well as paper, cereals and cheeses. Only one-twentieth of the boats arriving at Oporto over these decades came from other Portuguese ports and the vast bulk of these had set out from Lisbon. Ships coming from Spanish ports counted for less than one-hundredth of the total, no doubt reflecting long-standing strained relationships between the two states and the fact that Lisbon captured most of the Spanish trade. From Brazil came a wide assortment of goods, such as large quantities of sugar and cotton, coffee, spices, whale oil, hardwoods, fish, rice and cocoa. Precious metals and tobacco from Brazil could be off-loaded only at Lisbon. Later in the century, much of the Brazil trade was carried exclusively on a line belonging to a company established by Pombal to promote Portuguese trade and manufacturing. More than 80 of its vessels registered Oporto as their home-port. What did the boats carry on their outward journeys? Fortified wines and popular brandies left in enormous quantities for northern Europe and England, as did a host of re-exported colonial products mainly from Brazil. In addition, fruits, nuts and salt were dispatched in large quantities. In 1768 alone, 28,000 pipes of wine went to England while a mere 2,000 was directed to all the Baltic ports (Guichard, 1992). To other ports in Portugal, of which Lisbon was the main reception centre, went food products produced within Oporto’s hinterland, and some colonial re-exports. The startlingly rapid development and success of commercial viticulture in the Douro valley, especially in the early years of the eighteenth century, gave further impetus to the growth of city and port (Bennett, 1990). The English market was the consumer par excellence of the products of the Douro valley and end-of-the-century hostilities between England and France further accentuated English demands for Douro wine products, since French wines were scarce. At this time, these products became in value and volume Portugal’s most critical home-produced export and they retained this position for a very protracted period (Loureiro, 1903). What of the balance of trade between Portugal and her trading partners? Work has shown that despite the enormous volumes of viticultural products that were exported northwards to Europe, Portugal remained in fiscal deficit on account of the enormous volumes of goods coming in from these areas (Rebelo da Costa, 1954). The Brazil trade was the opposite. Whatever the case, the commercial success of port-wine left an indelible mark on Oporto and its expanding hinterland, within and beyond the Douro valley. Viticultural intensification, it is true, opened up new areas such as the incised gorges of the Douro and its tributaries, hitherto effectively commercially unproductive. In other areas, however, traditional, often subsistence agricultural practices and land uses, such as cereal production, were replaced by viticulture, which arguably left many communities unable to produce sufficient food to feed themsleves. This type of modification helps to account for the region’s growing food shortages and contributed to making Portugal a food-deficient producer (Schneider, 1980). Success, prosperity and growth are all epithets used by some authors to celebrate the apogee of Duoro viticulture, which made fortunes for some and, at times, encouraged considerable inward investment, and also led to the massive demographic and structural expansion of the city and its hinterland (Perreira, 1990). Simultaneously, it has been argued that all this growth disturbed long-standing port–hinterland relationships by marginalising large sections of rural society from a cereal-based cash-crop economy (Schnieder, 1980). Taking this type of argument further, it has been asserted that over-specialisation created new dependencies and that Oporto was transformed into a quasi-colonial city where export rhythms were the outcome of controls imposed by a resident fraternity of foreign merchants and/or the vagaries of English demand (Guichard, 1992). In other

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words, the success of viticulture subverted both city and hinterland to the capriciousness of foreign capital, thereby laying early foundations for many of its great structural problems in more recent times.

Locale and context Oporto must be the icon of all the ports of Atlantic Iberia given that its name [Oporto-puerto] relates to all that a port embodies. Its present name is a sobriquet for its crucial and long-standing maritime functions. Formerly, it was one of the many minute ports located along the northern littoral of Portugal extending from Caminha on the Minho estuary to the mouth of the Mondego at Figuiera da Foz. In medieval times, two sets of settlements confronted each other at the east-end of the estuary of the river Douro. Penaventoso was located to the north and it was the seat of the bishop and his retinue. Below it was Miragaia or Ribeira, one of whose names connoted freer conditions. When these settlements merged they were simply known as Oporto [cale]. Directly opposite was Vila Nova do Rei, later on it acquiring its well-known name, Vila Nova de Gaia or simply Gaia. The port settlement grew fitfully; several clear stages of its economic structural development are patently evident in its plan. It is a city with a very pronounced self-identity expressed in a suite of monumental and stately buildings, its ancient core, its emblematic steel bridge and hectares of now empty wharfs and warehouses making its port zone today a ghost of its former self (see Figure 8.1). Its site, on the edge of an incised estuary, was unsuitable for many non-maritime activities. It evolved at a location that was both a maritime and terrestrial route junction. As in its nearest neighbour, Spain, a monopoly policy was implemented in Portugal endowing Lisbon for many years with exclusive trading privileges with its colonial empire (Russell-Wood, 1997). This policy suffocated maritime activities at many other ports and their respective hinterlands. In many respects, Oporto was capable of overcoming these obstacles and it carved out a distinctive career in a context where the Portuguese state monopoly policy was not as emasculating as the Spanish one. The spectacular growth of traffic based on port wine during the eighteenth century and the Brazil trade provided its merchant community with a special kind of leverage, allowing Oporto to often evade the manacles of the monopoly. Oporto’s triumph, then, occurred during the eighteenth century. It was based on English thirst and, initially, on Portuguese determination to exploit and invest in the incredibly underestimated viticultural potential of the lower Douro valley. These, coupled with an an extremely well-protected harbour location acting as a breakpoint between river and ocean (Rebelo da Costa, 1954), conspired to promote a successful vocation for this port settlement (see Figure 8.1). Like in many other instances along the coastline of Atlantic Iberia, Oporto’s location offered considerable advantages for harbour development, although it was also bedevilled by some major restrictions. It was located in a sheltered tidal zone of the estuary of one of the peninsula’s great rivers, the Douro, which is deeply incised through much of its course in Portugal. A sand-spit at Aforado, immediately to the south, was a constant hazard for shipping and its enlargement and extension in the nineteenth century was to seal the obituary of Oporto’s maritime activities and promote the erection of a new port, at Leixões, some few kilometres to the north. Work began there in 1864 and the first phase of development was completed in 1892. Originally conceived only as a shelter, a decision was taken in 1908 to promote it to act as a major commercial port. . The earliest known map of the city is an amazingly late military plan printed in London in 1813 (see Plate 11). Popularly called the ‘planta redonda’ [round map], it clearly distinguishes the earliest part of the settlement from later additions. It stresses that the old core, on the waterfront, still remained intact. Medieval Oporto took its early shape after 1120 when the then queen, Teresa, had been granted its lands. The defences of the cathedral were reinforced and a market place was

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Figure 8.1

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Ports of northern Portugal

licensed. In reality, the walled area was minute, enclosing somewhat less than 4 hectares of what was more of a border post than a port. During the last quarter of the following century, Oporto was massively enlarged. A new, much more elaborate wall encircling nearly 50 hectares, known as, cerca Fernandina (1336–76), was erected and several new entrances opened onto the waterfront, each of these being dedicated to a specific function. One gate served for the unloading of fish and another was involved in the carbon and wood trade. Overlooking the port and waterfront – Ribeira – perched on two hills were the cathedral – Sé – and the church of São Bento separated by a river cut into a ravine. They symbolised the pivots of power (Marquês and Martins, 1988). Its unpromising site no doubt meant that most its streets were narrow and winding, several of them climbing to the churches from Ribeira. Growing regal intervention in the port’s affairs in the late fourteenth century was marked by the erection of some key regulatory institutions such as the Casa da Moeda and Bolsa do Comércio, and numerous warehouses were constructed beside

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the wharfs. Here, too, a new street, Rua Nova, was built parallel to the river and merchants eager to participate in the ports expanding trade occupied elaborate houses (see Figure 8.2). Navigational aids in the form of two lighthouses, Farol de Anjó (1527) and the Torre da Marca (1536) were built reflecting growth in maritime traffic. Only in 1813, most of the wall was demolished (Mandroux-Franca, 1984). During the Spanish captivity (1580–1640), the impressive fort at São João da Foz was erected and coastal defences to the north-west at Leça da Palmeira were also expanded (see Figure 8.1). Population growth was reflected in physical expansion outside the medieval walls and new streets were laid to connect the older part of the town with some of the new extensive extramural convents and monasteries, of these Santa Catarina de Froles (built 1525) was the most ambitious. The increased economic vitality of the port city was especially manifested by the appearance of several major religious foundations within the walls and close to the cathedral, such as the Colegio de São Lorenço (1577), and the Convento de São João Novo (1592). The convent of São Bento da Victória (1597) was sited on land in the then rebuilt Jewish quarter (Leal and Tavares, 1987). The establishment of a Tribunal de Relação (1582) confirmed Oporto’s enhanced regional administrative status, whose ambit covered everything north of the Rio Mondego to the Minho. In the same decade, the quays were extended and improved and a properly functioning customs house [alfândega] was established (see Figure 8.2). Also, during the Spanish occupation, often mistakenly believed to be a period of decay, development began outside the walls and this new centrifugal tendency was first represented by the erection of the Convento das Carmelitas (1619).

Figure 8.2

Medieval and eighteenth-century Oporto. Adapted from Guàrdia et al., 1994, p. 131, Figure 8

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Urban expansion in a century of prosperity The limited and extremely profitable Brazil trade with its attendant re-exports and the flourishing wine trade brought increasing prosperity to Oporto from the late seventeenth century onwards (Pinto Ferreira, 1983). These departures were reflected in various ways: marked increases in population and growing complexity in the city’s occupational structures, urban expansion and economic diversification, especially in the immediate hinterland (Taylor, 1961). A series of recognisable phases of change are evident. The first one covers the period from the departure of the Spanish in 1640 to c.1690 (Mandroux-Franca, 1984; Leal and Tavares, 1987). It was followed by a period lasting until c.1750 during which the secular clergy’s governing authority [cabido] played a major role in the town’s development, represented in no small measure by the accomplishments of architect Nasoni (Smith, 1966). A third phase, extending until the end of the century, was marked by more municipal and state intervention in physical organisation and regulation of the city. This was a departure instigated by the influential minister Pombal (Schneider, 1980). The commercial problems provoked particularly by colonial wars after the restoration left a legacy of dislocation throughout Portugal. The consequences of these events remain poorly understood, especially in relation to economic and urban change. Perhaps, for these reasons, there appears to be little coherence in relation to processes driving urban change during most of the second half of the seventeenth century. The painstaking reassembly of Portugal’s overseas possessions was expressed in the intensification of overseas trade and in turn reflected in improvements to waterfront at Ribeira, the rebuilding of the alfândega in 1677 and the re-launching of the Casa da Moeda in 1688. This renewed prosperity was also represented by the erection of several new churches, such as São Nicolau in 1671, sponsored by the prosperous goldsmiths’ guild (Guàrdia et al., 1994). Perhaps the register of boats entering the port supplies the most telling barometer of change during this period. Only 34 crossed in 1657. In 1698, the tally was 2,523 vessels representing an increase of 700 per cent and this count marked Oporto’s emergence as a major player in inner Atlantic maritime commerce. In an effort to deal with this rapid upsurge in economic growth, the local ecclesiastical and municipal authorities combined their influence, powers and resources in various initiatives to map out the expansion of the settlement, redevelop blighted areas and erect suites of buildings commensurate with the port’s enhanced status. Given that the church owned an extensive property portfolio, its cabido often acted as the catalyst for urban change by hiring architects to devise plans, providing some of the resources and land and also insisting on the laying out of imposing squares such as the Praça das Hortas. This authority became involved in all aspects of urban promotion extending from the macro scale of district regeneration to the consideration of minor decorative details, such the selection of building materials and suitable colours. One of its leading members was also responsible for inviting an Italian decorator and architect, Nicolas Nasoni (1691–1773), who arrived in 1725 and whose contribution to the built fabric and the skyline of Oporto remains unrivalled (Smith, 1966). Originally contracted to rebuild the cathedral, Nasoni was responsible for ‘italianising’ the monumental architecture of the city and adding to its character by designing, and ‘baroquefying’ it. This task was accomplished by encrusting structures with elaborate façades, the building of some new impressive churches, none more striking than the Torre dos Clérigos (1732-49), renovating the venerable Sé and erecting a church and extensive offices for the Miserecórdia. He also was active in designing headquarters for several religious confraternities, palaces for some of the leading religious and secular notables and country houses on the outskirts of the settlements for the wealthy merchants whose activities had drawn in much wealth (Pinto Ferreira, 1983). Most of the investments in the built fabric were channelled towards

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embellishment rather than into port infrastructure, or into freeing up the now congested streets of the walled urban core and its port. Little agreement is evident in relation to population tallies for the port city during the second half of the eighteenth century. Most concur, however, that rates of increase accelerated to a level never experienced before. With a total population of 60,000 plus in 1790 and 43,000, inside the walled area in 1801, Oporto’s dramatic transformation was even further underwritten by the success of the port wine trade (Leal and Tavares, 1987). This, too, was a trade subject to sudden changes (Bennett, 1992–93). It was also the period during which both its social and morphological structures were most profoundly transformed. How can these substantial alterations be accounted for other than simply citing the positive economic implications of port wine trade? Indubitably, without the prosperity stemming from its dynamic port and its prolific hinterland, massive growth could not have transpired. A series of related events and decisions resulting from them had profound consequences. Of these, the most significant were the great Lisbon earthquake (1755) and the subsequent interventions of the chief minister, Pombal, who devised and implemented a most innovative political economy so as to rescue the state from economic ruin. Other central elements of this conjuncture include the appointment of an inventive and incisive military governor at Oporto charged with implementing state policies, and finally the establishment of a series of companies and institutions to further underpin the attainment of economic freedom, and infrastructural and social change. Pombal created four monopolistic companies that were designed to improve trading conditions in the Atlantic and with the east. Two further entities were founded that were intended to commercialise production in Portugal. Of these, the Companhia de Agricultura das Vinhas do Alto Douro was conceived as a vehicle to assure quality control and improve the reliability. Founded in 1756, its remit extended to nearly all aspects of life in the port city where it had its headquarters. The Junta das Obras Públicas do Porto, founded between 1757 and 1762, was charged with the development of a prosperous, attractive and sustainable port city. Its first director of the former agency was João de Almada, Pombal’s cousin, whom he had also appointed as civil and military governor of the region. The French engineer, Oudinot, and English architect, Whitehead (b. 1726) ably assisted Almada who died in 1786 (Delaforce, 1983). Almada’s son, Francisco, succeeded him. So pervasive was the contribution of these two individuals that their tenure is popularly known as ‘Oporto de las Almadas’. The Junta das Obras Públicas was an agency that linked the policies of the state to municipal interests and its role was to act as a promoter of trade, urban development and infrastructure provision. As such, the fortunes of both companies were inextricably linked. Conceived in the immediate aftermath of the Lisbon earthquake, even by modern standards, the powers and faculties of this agency were considerable and far reaching. It had its own headquarters and staff of specialists, including military engineers and architects, and its own budget raised from excise placed on wine products. This endowed it with considerable independence of action and prestige, making it difficult for opponents to subvert its plans. Its rationale was almost revolutionary as, in Pombal’s view; its actions were premised on the common good. No wonder that the Catholic church was its most implacable opponent as, through its secular and ordered clergy, it held vast portfolios of urban land. The new story line that emerged out of the destruction of Lisbon, was as follows. Country and capital were grievously compromised by the great earthquake; hence, exceptional measures had, according to Pombal, to be taken to overcome the crisis. Lisbon was in ruins while Oporto was emasculated by its medieval heritage, its deficient port, its narrow winding streets and inadequate connections with its poorly developed hinterland. The exceptional measures then adopted by Pombal had national implications, namely the establishment of the trading companies that have

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been noted. Also, on a regional level, the founding of the Companhia da Agricultura das Vinhas do Alto Douro was devised to develop Oporto’s hinterland (Bennett, 1992–93), while the Junta das Obras Públicas do Oporto was designed to modernise the port city so it would be able to act as an engine of economic growth. In this context, Pombal was driven by the notion that, in this great national emergency, the public good should prevail over individual, corporate rights and institutional privileges. His idealism and that of his governor general, Almada, were driven by influences from the Portuguese enlightenment (Mandroux-França, 1984). In a sense, what Pombal wanted was a re-urbanisation of Oporto to allow its mixed English and Portuguese merchant fraternity to capitalise on the new opportunities then available for the greater good of all its citizens, the region and ultimately the state. The port and the city were thus redesigned along pragmatic lines to achieve these goals by freeing up the port city to allow better circulation within and between it and its dynamic hinterland. For this reason, the Junta devised a strategy of change on two fronts, outlined in plans dating to 1761 and 1763. The first of these was aimed at revitalisation by the freeing up of the medieval core, and the second was focused on the extra-mural area (Beretas Junior, 1990). Together, they envisaged the creation of a radio-centric morphology with spacious thoroughfares striking into Ribeira (the port), which was massively extended and improved, by a French military engineer. This new union was accomplished by cutting up the core and widening and straightening some of its streets. The acme of these initiatives was the construction of the spacious Rua da Boavista (see Figure 8.3).

Figure 8.3

Oporto, c.1820–72. Adapted from Guàrdia et al., 1994, p. 136, Figure 22

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In the main, these plans were expedited quite rapidly and a series of new residential districts were erected outside the walls to cope with the rapid expansion of the settlement and the people who had to be relocated. This transformation was by no means a colourless achievement: new public spaces, mainly in the form of attractive squares, were inserted into the built fabric. New buildings were also added, such as the monumental Palacio de Feitoria Inglesa [English Factory House], started in 1786, the Relação, the Miséricórdia and even some novel churches (Taylor, 1961). The Palacio da Feitoria Inglesa, which replaced an earlier building, was an enormous and lavish building, emblematic of the port’s vocation and its most potent group of foreign merchants, the English, who were mainly involved in the wine trade (Delaforce, 1983). Its architect, Whitehead, chiefly through this building, introduced English Palladian styles to Oporto, which were to have a major influence, with those of another architect named Carr, on the designs of later buildings such as the stock exchange and the university (Taylor, 1961). The demolition of the walls was started in 1788, allowing enormous improvements to be executed along the quays involving building new squares, markets, warehouses and customs houses, and the erection of carefully designed and highly embellished residential units. The net result of the initiatives, so far as the port was concerned, was its monumentalisation, endowing parts of it with suites of commanding buildings, such as the colossal customs house and several of its ornate warehouses. Many of these edifices boasted of classical ostentatious façades on a par with contemporary Bordeaux or Nantes (Mandroux-França, 1984).

Asphyxiation and re-orientation In the nineteenth century, a series of major problems faced those responsible for the management of the port the city. First and foremost, the population of Oporto doubled between 1838 and 1890 when some 138,860 residents were recorded and the city itself expanded enormously (Leal and Tavares, 1987). Considerable physical expansion occurred on the southern side of the river at Villa Nova de Gaia and between it and Lavadores (see Figure 8.3). In addition, as boats became larger and had greater draughts, the entrance bar continued to pose even more insuperable problems for the entry and exit of vessels. Also, no suitable solution had been devised to connect the settlements of both sides of the river. During the French siege, a very inadequate pontoon collapsed and hundreds perished. This tragic event further drove home to the municipal authorities the inadequacies of the port’s infrastructures. The building of a new port at Leixões was the most daring and startling departure. When it opened as a commercial port in the first decade of the twentieth century, it quickly triggered the demise of Oporto’s remaining shipping functions. Oporto continued to discharge most of its traditional banking and other commercial activities. In 1879, it was asserted that vessels could not cross the harbour bar for 61 days because of unfavourable conditions (Diário, 1879). Worse still, between 1873 and 1902, 152 boats foundered on it and hundreds of sailors perished (Loureiro, 1902–06). Originally conceived as an auxiliary port and protected roadstead, Leixões’s development was vigorously opposed by most of Oporto’s leading merchant constituencies (Capela, 1975). It was initially argued that the new port, in whatever form it emerged, should be financed and managed by the state. Contrary to local expectations, its management was entrusted in 1889 to a special company known as Companhia das Docas do Porto e dos Caminhos de Ferro Peninsulares (Alegria, 1985). The company, effectively a cartel of seven local banks that had also invested in a new railway line extending from Salamanca to Leixões, was on the verge of failure. The state intervened and took over the construction of both port and railway, even though neither was completed. Strategic

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necessity was the catalyst for state intervention: the requirements of importing Castilian wheat was judged to be imperative, as was the need to rescue the railways investors and the banks from collapse in order to avoid a wider economic meltdown (Alegria, 1985). These kinds of problems and the opposition of Oporto’s major merchants were expressed by the retention of the customs house on the Douro waterfront. The inordinate delay in the construction of the port at Leixões and linkage to the national rail network allowed Lisbon to further consolidate its commercial primacy as Portugal’s premier Atlantic port. Another outcome of the failure to decisively select Leixões as a substitute for the increasingly encumbered river port is further revealed by data that relate to shipping movements. In 1855, 44 per cent of all Portuguese port entries were attributable to Lisbon, the equivalent figure for Oporto was 29 per cent. By 1890, the figure for Lisbon had almost doubled, being some 86 per cent, while Oporto’s fell to only 9 per cent. By 1910, when Leixões had replaced Oporto it recorded 18 per cent of arrivals and Lisbon had declined to 72 per cent. It was an imbalance that, once established, was never reversed. A further feature also evident from the shipping data was the general decline of most of the smaller ports during the latter half of nineteenth century. Only Aveiro and Figuiera da Foz registered shipping movements of note but these were significantly inferior to those of Oporto. Figures from other ports mainly indicate low and declining intensities of coastal trade.

Structuring change during the nineteenth century New national political circumstances in the 1830s, where greater state centralisation was favoured, witnessed as one of their casualties the suppression in 1833 of the Junta das Obras Públicas. Successor agencies attempted to grapple with the development of the city and the port. Bereft of financial autonomy, their activities ground down to becoming simply aspirational and they were unable to implement city-wide policies of improvement. For example, the urban council [câmara municipal] was reduced to simply issuing and enforcing basic regulations concerned with the proportions of new buildings and streets. The absence of an institution with a city-wide development remit meant that when the leading religious buildings, properties and urban landbanks were expropriated in 1834, piecemeal redevelopment was the order of the day. A series of new public buildings was constructed and they were scattered around Oporto and, in 1839, a major public library and museum were installed in the shell of the convent of São António. The first covered public market was erected in the same year in the grounds of the demolished Recolhimiento do Anjo. Founded in 1833 and endowed with considerable new faculties and finance by the state in the early 1840s, a new institution known as the Associação Comercial set about implementing a number of major initiatives, the most important of which was the building in 1840 of a stock exchange in the convent of São Francisco (Capela, 1975). Known as the Palácio da Bolsa e Tribunal do Comércio, it was, with the new town-hall erected in 1864, one of the most novel additions to the port city’s built fabric. The same agency also improved the Rua da Boavista, which was to serve as a magnet of urban expansion linking the old core to Matosinhos and subsequently to Leixões. For centuries, success in the provision of an adequate bridge across the river Douro at Oporto had eluded all its promoters (Marquês and Martins, 1988). A less than satisfactory low hanging structure was installed in 1843. The national ministry of public works [Obras Públicas], founded in 1852, was responsible for hiring the engineer Eiffel to design and erect a much more complex bridge carrying two roads and a railway at various levels in 1877 (Alegria, 1983). The railway that had terminated at Vila Nova da Gaia now finally linked Lisbon with Vigo in Galicia (Barata

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Salgueiro, 1987). More than any other feature, this exquisite piece of engineering must be the most expressive icon of this Atlantic port city. This phase of railway construction ended with the erection in 1900 of the emblematic station of São Bento at the heart of the city. New streets were laid at both levels: the most noteworthy of which were Rua Mousinho da Silviera (1870) and Rua Nova da Alfândega (1864), which linked the Baixa and Ribiera with higher parts of the city. By 1875, tramlines also connected the waterfront areas of Foz de Douro and Ribeira with the upper levels and the core of the city. From before mid-century, the riverfront at Gaia was provisioned with better wharfs that were in part financed by foreign companies. They now allowed a massive extension to the scale of the port-wine operations. It was over this period that some of the leading port-wine companies built their extensive warehouses behind the waterfront. Despite the major improvements in infrastructure, there was little coherence to these developments by contrast to those attributable to the final half of the preceding century. A banking and insurance sector only became firmly established at Oporto at mid-century; the first bank there only opened its doors in 1835, some ten years later than Lisbon (Pery, 1875). There were no less than 16 financial agencies in operation in 1875, falling to ten at the end of the century. While massive disparities existed between Lisbon and Oporto relative to the volume of goods moving through the ports, the number of banks in each port remained on a par, while several operating out of Lisbon had affiliates scattered throughout the state; those with headquarters at Oporto tended only to have branches in northern towns (Guichard, 1992). Manufacturing and industrialisation were inserted as late as the second half of the nineteenth century into the fabric of the city. Initially small-scale workshop units developed within the ancient core area. Soon afterwards, larger units were created on its outskirts, invariably close to the waterfront because of its potential for cheap labour, land and transport. In 1852, 496 manufacturing units were recorded, in which 6,090 people worked (Justino, 1986). Most of these factories were involved in textile production – some 4,058 workers in 47 per cent of all the manufacturing units – but 48 other activities were noted. Forty three per cent of these units employed fewer than five operatives and only 14 per cent counted more than 20 workers, all tallying to some, 3,433 souls (Allegro de Magalhães, 1988). These workforces invariably lived beside the workshops in extensive blocks of residences known as ilhas. Some had densities that exceeded 1,000 people per hectare. Most of these residences were of diminutive proportions, measuring on average 5 by 5 metres and their inhabitants, at that time, were recently arrived migrants. At the close of the century, the inner river waterfront was in terminal decline as an Atlantic port. Nevertheless, more than 50 per cent of its residents remained in its old urban core zone. Spread around it in a huge arc, now extending across the river, but tilting north-westwards towards Leixões was a mosaic of mixed residential and industrial quarters. By 1911, 200,000 inhabitants were recorded and many lived cramped together in appalling conditions (Leal and Tavares, 1987). Most of this demographic growth can only be accounted for by high rates of in-migration. All of these increases transpired when the river port was in serious decline, and it cannot be explained by the continuing success story of port wine (Stanislawski, 1970). Manufacturing and industrialisation helped to diversify the long-standing narrowly focused urban economy from one where the export of raw materials remained paramount to one where production became more significant. Lisbon excelled as a centre of importation and redistribution whose inner foreland covered all of Portugal. By contrast, Oporto was essentially an exporting centre subjugated by its dependence on the sale of wines. While it also was a port involved in re-exportation and redistribution, the remit of these activities was mainly confined to the ports to the north and as far south as Aveiro. The break point of Oporto’s influence was just north of Coimbra, where it collided with Lisbon’s zone of supremacy. Clearly Oporto did not live off wine alone. Its manufacturing base, focused on textiles, was expanding and, besides animating a large zone from which it drew in its viticultural prize, part of its

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hinterland was a zone which it supplied with a range of goods. Indeed, goods coming from this port, such as colonial items, metal products, textiles and remittances reached all corners of Minho, Trasos-Montes and Beira Alta and infiltrated over the Spanish border, usually as contraband (Justino, 1986). In spite of the precipitous decline of the venerable river port and the growing success of Leixões, the new port’s commercial infrastructure and what would be called today its movers and shakers, stayed firmly anchored in the old town of Oporto. It is certain that the apparently simple cause–effect relationship between Oporto and fortified wines equalling growth has been greatly overemphasised. The importance and scale of the Oporto–Brazil trade remains unknown; likewise its role as a colonial re-exporting centre is a further void. In these circumstances, the exclusive adscription of physical expansion to the prosperity and trading cycles of the wine trade hardly tells us the full story.

Chapter 9

Corunna: A Provincial Port Ports can be classified into different types by employing an incisive range of criteria to establish differences and similarities between them. The coupling attributes of a port’s hinterland and its foreland are obvious contenders as measures of port vitality. Nevertheless, like the ports themselves, these characteristics change over time, thereby endowing any classification simply with a timespecific currency. At the time of the Discoveries, there were droves of smaller localised ports strung out along the coastline of northern Atlantic Iberia. It is possible to recognise two types of ports by employing the criteria mentioned already. There were ports whose activities had only achieved a regional or provincial resonance with hinterlands confined to Asturias or Cantabria or Galicia. Other ports had transactions with national and international implications and their forelands and hinterlands were very extensive. Our attention is confined to the latter. The origins, nature and volume of goods moving through them must be discriminating indicies of vitality; some may derive from the hinterland of the port or from throughout the national territory or even further afield. Also, resulting from policy decisions, specific ports might exclusively import or export goods of national importance, as was the case with the salt in late medieval Spain. Otherwise, a port might play a key role in national defence, as in the instance of the locations of Spain’s chief arsenals Spain (Casado Soto, 1996b). These kinds of variations in port characteristics are recognisable along the northern Atlantic littoral of Spain and even beyond. Bilbao and Santander. for different reasons, and by no means continuously, have acted as ports of international consequence for this extensive region. For hundreds of years, west of Santander, indeed as far as Oporto, the key regional or provincial ports have managed only to carve out minute hinterlands that had extremely limited inland penetration even within their immediate province. Complex factors and processes may be cited for the failure of any major port to emerge before the late nineteenth century in the extensive area stretching between Santander and Oporto. Spanish fiscal policies enshrined in the monopolio certainly disadvantaged ports such as Corunna, Pontevedra, Santander, Bilbao and possibly Vigo.

Regional context Historically, Galicia has always displayed weak and unstable urban characteristics (O’Flanagan, 1996). By 1787, the urban pecking order had again dramatically altered (see Chapter 7, Figure 7.1). In 1760, two ports, Corunna and El Ferrol, headed the urban league and Santiago had been relegated to third place, in spite of its population growing five-fold to a total of nearly 16,000, from less than 3,000. Indeed, it is only since 1787 that Galicia’s port cities established urban league leadership. By the late eighteenth century, it has been calculated that c.6 per cent of the total active population was connected to the sea as professional fishermen (O’Flanagan, 1996). The numbers of gallegos who served in the navy and in merchant ships at the same time is unknown; the figure must have been considerable given the propensity of many gallegos to engage in all forms of

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migration. No coastal zone has been favoured by its physical geography as has Galicia (Pérez Iglesias, 1983). Paradoxically, it is a region whose port towns only dramatically expanded in the late nineteenth century. It is the most indented section of the entire Iberian coastline characterised by a series of sinuous rías [estuaries] (see Figure 9.1). Internal constraints were also powerful factors arresting development and, over time, there were many contradictory processes at work (Villares Paz, 1982). The spectacular early career of inland Santiago de Compostela as a major international pilgrimage focus drew into Galicia some of the most scrupulously organised and territorially aggressive ecclesiastical institutions. Many of them established extensive fiefdoms centred on large monasteries that developed into urban settlements or even ports in their own right (O’Flanagan, 1996). Also, a small number of major secular land magnates carved out huge landed properties. The vast bulk of the region’s rural population became small-scale tenant farmers by as early as the twelfth century, which robbed the region of its capacity to produce large food surpluses (Portela, 1981). Urbanisation in Galicia remained at a low ebb until well into the twentieth century. Before the mid-eighteenth century, less than 8 per cent of the population were urban residents and

Figure 9.1

Principal eighteenth-century roads within and between Galicia and Castile

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less than 6 per cent of the residents lived in settlements counting more than 2,000 residents (Eiras Roel, 1990). It was a rural region par excellence. Despite being Spain’s most Atlantic region with an extensive coastline, it was the least urbanised with an inland capital at Santiago de Compostela. Three major internal axes of roads connected Galicia with Castile (Escribano, 1775). The first of them ran from León, through to Astorga, after which it crossed the Sierra de Ancares and went on to Lugo, Santiago, Padron and it ended at Pontevedra (see Figure 9.1), often impassable for months in winter its puertos [passes] were blocked by snow. Another road also left Astorga, followed the deeply incised valley of the river Sil, reached Ourense and then turned west to Redondela and went on again to Pontevedra. The southern route left Benavente in the Castilian province of Zamora and continued on to Ourense and then it ran near the international frontier with Portugal to reach Tuy (see Figure 9.1). Internal communications within the region were no better and no doubt the absence of basic infrastructure arrested commercial growth (García Lombardero, 1973). Significant additions to the network were constructed from the mid-eighteenth century onwards. The road connecting Pontevedra with Corunna, completed in 1778, provided all-weather north–south links for the first time (Larruga, 1787–1800). In spite of these modifications, Laborde (1808), lamented the poor conditions of communications throughout the region (see Figure 9.1).

Early modern maritime hub: Pontevedra With few exceptions, notably El Ferrol, most of Galicia’s key port towns were in existence by the late middle ages, indeed in many cases much earlier (López Alsina, 1987). The final phase in the process of their hierarchialisation began in the latter half of the nineteenth century. This meant that most of the older centres are characterised by some distinctive, if spatially modest, medieval cores and such is the case at Corunna, Pontevedra and Vigo and even more incipient medieval endowments are evident at some of the smaller ports such as Bayona, Noya, Padrón, Ribadeo and Vivero (Méndez Martínez, 1988). Pontevedra became the most dynamic port town of the region. The period extending between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries can be recognised as one of rapid physical expansion and economic growth for Pontevedra. During this period, Pontevedra obtained a comprehensive portfolio of essential medieval urban functional, morphological and juridical characteristics. Besides performing as a port, Pontevedra became a very significant regional market, a noted consumption and redistribution centre with overland connections with Santiago, the Ribeira viticultural region of Ourense and onwards to Castile and finally with Portugal via Tuy (Huetz de Lemps, 1967). Essentially, the port exported agricultural raw materials, such as, fish, wine and wood. Pontevedra seems to have acted as a kind of breakpoint for goods between the ports of the Mediterranean and the North Atlantic. The Mediterranean ports of Barcelona and Valencia were its key maritime commercial partners and the balance of trade remained in favour of the latter port for a very protracted period. Other indications confirm the bias of trade in favour of these southern ports, for instance, most Pontevedran registered boats were involved and its major merchants were engaged in these trades. By contrast, Corunna’s foreland was focused on the ports to the north. A famous ‘view’ of the port town dating to the mid-sixteenth century provides an excellent summation of the characteristics of a mature late medieval settlement. It shows a well-built and defended settlement, mainly located south of the river Lerez, linked by a solid bridge to a lightly urbanised northern side, titled El Burgo by the unknown cartographer. The initial rationale for the settlement was protection of a bridge on the road that went north to south from Corunna to Tuy and on to Oporto.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

The principal urban component was then the walled area, known as La Villa, which had several large residential and defensive buildings, including an impressive gatehouse as well as its church and cemetery. It was threaded together by a half-kilometre long, east-to-west axial street broken up into a series of separate sectors, each of which had its own distinctive name. Its leading features can be derived from documentary sources in the late fifteenth century. It provides an interesting counterpoint to the slightly later plan by depicting its interior built-up outline. This street-line ran parallel to the river and most of the other streets ran perpendicular linking it to the riverside. The Moreyra [Moureira, or Moorish quarter] was sited outside the walls, on the same side of the river. A more compact area, it consisted of similarly built single-storied houses almost exclusively occupied by fishermen and seamen. Here the streetscape was less formally structured, yet most of the streets ran parallel to the waterfront. Circumstances, however, conspired to arrest its further growth. Increasing vessel draught, silting of its harbour, competition from the adjacent ports of Baiona and Vigo and the region’s loss of economic vitality show that when mapped in the course of the execution of the 1752 Catastro, it had hardly physically expanded from its medieval carapace (Fernández Mosquera, 1963). Pontevedra’s failure to grasp new opportunities opened the way for Corunna to take its place as the region’s premier port settlement.

Corunna: Early forelands The selection of conjunctures that may facilitate the structuring of any study of urban change is a tempting spectre for geographers and historians. Geographers might hope to identify distinctive morphological patterns, or the impact of several processes on the urban fabric; historians might elect to use the dates of battles or trading partnerships as a means of providing a neat chronological periodisation. In reality, clear breaks or sudden changes over short periods of time are the exception. The period extending from the declaration of the monopolio in 1503 in favour of Seville to its abolition in 1776 barred Corunna from engagement in colonial trade. This embargo was slightly diluted when Carlos III nominated it to be the principal peninsular mail depot for dispatches from the Caribbean. The period in between stands out as a distinctive, though extended, stage in its demographic, economic and morphological development. Initially, the prospects for Corunna must have appeared to be unparalleled. Its salient Atlantic location might have seemed to be ideal trump card in its efforts to play a prominent role in the burgeoning maritime economy. In recognition, in 1552, Carlos V established a specialised Casa de Contratación de las Especierías [spices] there (Rodríguez Valera, 1975). This was the same year that Juan Sebastián Elcano had returned with only one boat after having been at sea for 37 months. He had circumnavigated the world and packed the boat with spices from the Moluccas. Seville had already been granted exclusive trading rights with the Indies; Corunna was left with a trading permit that included the Moluccas and a otras partes donde huviese especieria – anywhere else with spices! It never prospered as an institution; indeed, the rationale behind its foundation differed from its larger and more potent rival ‘house’ at Seville. It was used as a device to encourage landed magnates, or rich merchants, to mount shipping expeditions to the Spice Islands (formerly the Moluccas) as a means of opening up new trade routes. All of the four expeditions that sailed out to find a secure route to the Spice Islands failed. Seven years after its creation, the institution was closed down once Spain sold its rights to these islands to the Portuguese monarch in 1529 for 350,000 ducados (Parrilla, 1996). Andalusia, Portugal and the ports of the Basque Country and Cantabria formed the most critical elements in Corunna’s Atlantic maritime foreland (Saavedra Vázquez, 1989). Fruit, fish, wood and

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wine were the principal items leaving the port at that time (Parrilla, 1996). Textiles and pilgrims came southwards (Barreiro Fernández, 1986). A royal inventory of ships berthed at Corunna at mid-sixteenth century also confirms that links with northern European ports were maintained: there were two German vessels loaded with hemp, tar, rye and wax, un navío vasco that had brought provisions for the army from Seville, two zabras, one from Bilbao and the other from Ribadeo carrying Basque iron and there were two locally owned ships being loaded (Saavedra Vázquez, 1994). It acted as a centre for the re-export of Mediterranean products to the ports of northern Europe and was the only Galician port to be allocated an enabling institution for merchants, namely a consulado that was active c.1480 (Ferreira Priegue, 1988). A new foundry for artillery and a shipyard at Oza were other royal initiatives designed to broaden the economic base of the port in the sixteenth century. Corunna was then also a major viticultural production zone (Bouhier, 1979; Huetz de Lemps, 1967). Enlightenment and commercial expansion When the pervious monopolio was diluted, Corunna could trade from 1766 onwards with the Antilles. The population of the town grew dramatically from mid-century, a range of new institutions were established and port and settlement experienced appreciable physical expansion (Barreiro Fernández, 1986). Amongst the most critical departures were the foundation of the Correos Marítimos in 1764, and the opening of the Real Consulado de Comercio in 1785. This service had begun some long time before with the creation of a postal service to Falmouth in England in 1689 (Meijide Pardo, 1966). It was also a time when new ideas and people came in. They were to be marshalled into a success story by new classes who contributed to reshape the appearance of the physical fabric of port and town. Between 1752 and 1786, the population had nearly doubled to a total of 13,575, even allowing for under-representation by the 1752 Catastro (Barreiro, 1990). The growing commercial success of the port led to the foundation of a number of Enlightenmentinspired institutions, for instance, the Real Consulado as has already been noted. This intitution was designed to promote maritime trade, to function as a kind of merchant guild and to devise and implement a series of plans to improve the port’s infrastructure. Charged with gathering a group of savants dedicated to the improvement of all aspects of Galicia’s economic promotion, it was directed to conduct scientific evaluations of conditions in the countryside and towns. Also founded under its auspices was a well-attended Escuela de Náutica (1790); this patronised an Escuela de Comercio and an Escuela de Dibujo and a small Escuela de Hilazas. Shortly after its foundation in 1785, El Consulado acquired other important functions, notably several involving the planning and delivery of public works especially related to the betterment of the harbour and its facilities. As such, it was the first Junta de Obras del Puerto, effectively the port’s harbour commissioners, as it also accrued fiscal and legal functions related to the collection and the enforcement of bye-laws. It was transmuted into the Tribunal y Junta de Comercio in 1829. In spite of being the premier port of Galicia and one of the most important naval/ military settlements of northern Spain, Corunna had no proper docks or piers in the early nineteenth century. Lighters had to be employed to transport goods and people from boats anchored in El Puerto to La Pescadería. In 1795, after seemingly interminable disputes, an impressive pier was completed against the wishes of the business interests of La Ciudad Alta residents where both the Aduana and the Consulado were still sited (González López, 1987). With its largest and most densely populated district called La Pescadería, fishing was always one of the key functions of the settlement. In 1759, according to a register of seamen, it was the second most important fishing port in the entire region. Strangely, Muros was then the foremost

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

centre with 20 boats and 176 registered fishermen. By the start of the last quarter of the same century, catches of sardines had grown substantially reflecting the pervasive influence of the Catalans on all aspects of the fishing sector (O’Flanagan, 1996). The arrival and settlement of Catalan fish curerscum-merchants at mid-century was to lay the basis for the transformation of the port, helping it to emerge as a major fishing centre. Their efforts helped to consolidate the sardine fishery at a restricted range of fixed centres in the subsequent century, and Corunna was one of these. In the latter part of the eighteenth century, large quantities of cod were imported to Spain as then the English controlled the Grand Banks. Bilbao was the chief port where these fish were landed and most were transported to Madrid where they were consumed or redistributed. Significant quantities were landed at several Galician ports, often coming from Bilbao; about two-thirds of this trade was funnelled through Corunna and most of the ships involved in this trade were English (Meijide Pardo, 1961b). In the eighteenth century, most of the boats registered had been bought by the local owners outside Spain chiefly in French Atlantic ports. Foreigners captained many of these boats; they were often employed as troop transporters to other ports around the peninsula and the islands when not involved in commerce (Meijide Pardo, 1984). Nevertheless, most of the manufactured goods carried by these craft originated outside the region! Colonial maritime trade Libre comercio and Correos marítimos are frequently invoked as the by-words to account for mid-eighteenth century Corunna’s animation. It endowed a novel colonial flavour to its overseas trade by grafting a transatlantic dimension to its foreland. This re-orientation happened after the establishment a new type of monopoly dispensation within the ambit of more liberal overseas trading protocols. It helped to facilitate the amplification of Corunna’s foreign partner-port realm and it was expected that it would be a means of contributing to revitalising Galicia’s stagnant economy. Initially, these new departures were to be accomplished by permitting mail boats to connect Galicia, especially between the years 1764 and 1778, with a restricted group of Caribbean and, more critically, some River Plate ports. Merchants were also permitted to outfit boats in this state-run maritime transport company. These boats were required by statute to make the return journey via Cádiz. Another statute established the so-called Compañía de Campeche y Yucatán, otherwise known as the Compañía de Galicia. Galician participation in the Carrera de Indias was well established long before Corunna’s addition to this élite group of pampered ports. Merchants from there were active elsewhere on the peninsula; nearly 5 per cent of the merchant houses [casas] trading out of Cádiz between 1743 and 1778 can be recognised as being of Galician provenance (García Baquero González, 1990). All of a sudden, Corunna was thrust into contact with a range of overseas ports that included Santiago and Trinidad in Cuba, San Juan in Puerto Rico, Montecristi, Ocoa and Santo Domingo on Española (Hispaniola), Acapulco, Campeche and Veracruz in Nueva España with connections onwards to the Philippines, to Portobello in Nueva Granada, to Panamá and on to Callao and to Cartagena with its connections to Bogotá, Caracas, Maracaibo, La Guayra and Cumaná (see Figure 9.2). With the stoke of a pen, Corunna had been exalted, almost to the same position as Cádiz and it was to share with it exclusive trading privileges with some of these ports until 1789. This was no Libre Comercio; it was simply a revised monopolio where Corunna was no longer statutorily excluded. Few, if any, of its merchants, however, possessed the capital, or vessels, or access to transatlantic trading networks to permit them to rapidly engage with the unprecedented opportunities offered by colonial trade and thus to compete with Cádiz. In the medium term, it was the River Plate that was to yield the most staggering rewards for the merchants of Corunna (see Figure 9.2) (Bannon, 1970).

Corunna: A Provincial Port

Figure 9.2

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Corunna: Routes and overseas port forelands, 1778–1818. Adapted from Alonso Alvarez, 1986

The secretary of the Consulado noted that only one boat sailed monthly to Havana and that the trade with that port was minuscule compared with the frenetic interaction with Buenos Aires (Lucas Labrada, [1804] 1971). However, it is important to stress that Corunna participated between 1764 and 1778 in a new, if restricted, conjuncture of state protected monopolistic trade. For Corunna, real, rather than virtual, free trade began after that date. In those circumstances, was it this new monopolistic era or its aftermath that acted to revitalise Corunna as an Atlantic port? Exports and re-exports: Textiles and regional development Were there major differences in the nature, origin and volume of goods shipped out of Corunna during these two profoundly contrasting periods? During the earlier monopolistic phase, unfinished textiles sourced either in Galicia or in other parts of Spain were overwhelmingly the principal items dispatched. They accounted for at least 90 per cent of the total exports. Mainly produced in a state-protected market these goods were carried out from Corunna in mostly state-owned ships. Undoubtedly, these conditions helped to promote textile production within Galicia. The proportion of Galician produced and exported textiles fell sharply following the 1778 declaration of free

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

trade. Garments made elsewhere in Spain replaced them. Indeed, the processes that arrested textile production in Galicia were complex and obscure (García Lombardero, 1973). They remain objects of unresolved debate (Alonso Alvarez, 1976; Carmona Badía, 1990). What is clear, is that once the restricted trade monopoly was broken, Corunna began to enjoy more profitable contacts with River Plate ports though the export of poor-quality textiles. Galicia’s’ potential to emerge as a significant textile production centre was dashed as these locally produced items were soon to be replaced by better quality mass-produced goods from northern Europe. Most farmers were tenants immersed in subsistence agriculture and could not generate the capital required to animate regional demand for locally mass-produced textiles. From 1778 onwards, many Spanish ports were allowed to trade freely with most IberoAmerican ports. This was a crude departure. It led to the later subversion of Cádiz’s paramount role while also simultaneously undermining Galicia’s growing trading prominence. Locally, ports such as Vigo, El Ferrol and even diminutive Carril now traded across the Atlantic (Carril was only endowed with this privilege for one year). A further, though somewhat later, blow to the prestige of Corunna was the transfer in 1802 of the maritime mail service to its better-defended, more sheltered sister port and arsenal of El Ferrol. More often than not, in popular perception, the promulgation of free commerce [libre comercio] in 1778 signalled the start of an era of unfettered economic opportunities for the aggrieved merchants of so many of Atlantic Iberia’s long stagnant ports. Free trade for Corunna was tantamount to a new form of vigorous competition and the immediate result was a downturn in colonial trade (Alonso Alvarez, 1986). The loss of exclusive trading prerogatives along the River Plate was a mortal blow for Corunna and for those parts of Galicia then active in textile production. These areas had become overdependent on a few overseas markets and their hinterlands. Most of the goods exported from Galicia to the colonies were carried in state-owned boats participating in the Correo Marítimo [martime postal service] (Lelo Bello, 1971). The most favoured vessel type was unquestionably the fragata. With its three masts, it was light, modest in size, very rapid and its cargo capacity was surprisingly extensive for a ship of its proportions. However, in 1802, Galician home port registrations only accounted for 10 per cent of the then national merchant marine. Not unexpectedly, 40 per cent of the boats involved in this trade were registered at Andalusian ports and the Basque tonnage total was substantially higher than the local one.

Three carreras The period of libre comercio which extended between 1778 and the early decades of the following century confirmed that the spatial architecture of Corunna’s colonial foreland was composed of three distinctive carreras: La Carrera de La Habana or Nueva España, La Carrera de Tierra Firme or Cartagena de Las Indias and finally La Carrera de Buenos Aires. All of them had taken their form at the end of the monopolistic period. These segments of Corunna’s foreland were also distinctive in terms of the volumes and types of goods that arrived from Galicia. Out on their own in this respect were the River Plate ports, taking more than two-thirds of the outgoing merchandise. Havana and Veracruz took another quarter and the minuscule remainder went to Cartagena (see Figure 9.2). Textiles made up the preponderance of exported goods; most noteworthy in this respect was the fact that re-exports made up the bulk of the items; they represented often more than 70 per cent of the value of all textiles. This meant that a much expected and aspired-to textile production revolution in Galicia never developed durable roots. Where did re-exports originate? How did they enter Galicia and who was responsible for this trade? To what extent did the externally fabricated textiles undermine and prevent the emergence of

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a vibrant textile sector in Galicia as a response to the impressive scale of external demand? These are just a selection of the leading queries posed by the sustained passage across Galicia of such immense volumes of textiles. Essentially, the principal re-exports entered Galicia along one of the three braided routes connecting Corunna with a litany of ports across Europe and they included a northern Atlantic route, a Mediterranean route and, finally, a series of overland routes linking Galicia with the rest of the peninsula (see Figure 9.1). In the case of the so-called Atlantic route, goods, predominantly textiles, were first despatched from such northern ports as St Petersburg and Riga, or Kiel, Lübeck, Trondheim or Bergen, and sent to a series of intermediate ports, such as Antwerp, Amsterdam, or Hamburg or London, Dublin and Southampton. Sometimes the goods were finished off, or dyed, in these locations. Then goods from these northern ports could either cross the Atlantic to Anglo-America or go to the Anglo-Caribbean world, or they could move southwards to the leading French ports. Alternatively, during the period of Spanish libre comercio, they could travel on to ports in Spain that were allowed to trade with Ibero-America. This was an old and durable braided oceanic corridor of contacts, which extended to the entire Iberian Peninsula for the first time only after 1788, and yet it was to have an initial lifespan of less than two decades. This was the key entry conduit for Galician re-exports and it accounted for more than 40 per cent of them. Another 10 per cent of them came from other parts of Spain arriving at Corunna via a series of overland routes (see Figure 9.1). Overland, a coarse road network counted three distinctive crossings over the high sierras in the east of Galicia, all of which were very poorly maintained and often impassable for months. Carriers and carters from the Leonese comarca of La Margaretaría, known as maragatos, brought the two Castiles and Extremadura into contact with Galicia and especially with its maritime colonial foreland (see Figure 9.1). Out from these areas and into Galicia went high-quality textiles, books, ornaments, ordinance and jewellery. Because of the poor condition of the roads and the long distances involved, the volume of goods travelling in the opposite direction was infinitesimal, as carriers preferred the shorter routes leading inland from such ports as Bilbao or Santander. From the Mediterranean came only about 10 per cent of the re-exports leaving Galicia and items included textiles, paper, wines and more especially spirits. There was also a host of other luxury items in minute quantities; Catalan ports and factories supplied most of these goods. Most of these re-exports were in fact destined for Atlantic Iberian urban markets: it seems that unsold surpluses were despatched back across the Atlantic. During this brief initial period of libre comercio, it is worth noting the minute quantities of manufactured goods produced in other regions of Spain that crossed the Atlantic as re-exports from Galicia’s ports. Basque iron products of all kinds made up the lion’s share of this trade both in value and volume, and cereal products were a distant second (Lucas Labrada, 1804). Silk goods, which are recorded as passing through Galicia, were also sometimes important, especially in value, but their ultimate origin remains unclear as it is likely that they were produced in, or near, Barcelona (Alonso Alvarez, 1986). The post-1778 period was one of marked export growth. It was also a period of many contradictions reflecting the inability of many of Galicia’s resident merchants to participate in, or to derive benefits from, the surge in exports. It is valuable to again recall that most exports were produced outside the region. It did not trigger any growth in Galicia’s productive capacity, notably in its textile sector. Curiously, the reverse transpired: after 1778, the proportion of Galician produced exports fell sharply, actually halving from the previous 20-year average (Carmona Badía, 1990) (see Figure 9.3). These and other contradictions were evident in the structure of the port town’s expanding commercial community over the period in question. An analysis of the principal traders involved in the commerce of the ‘Indies’ reveals some telling features. In 1778, only 14 individuals are listed as major participants; by 1792, the number had risen to 322 individuals, and during the first decade of the new century, the average number never

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Figure 9.3

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Value of total exports from Galicia to Buenos Aires and Montevideo, 1767–1816. Data from Alonso Alvarez, 1986

exceeded a double-digit tally (Alonso Alvarez, 1986). One of the key characteristics of the sudden appearance of a respectable numerical merchant cadre at Corunna was the fact than less than a fifth of the total were gallegos, again confirming the low regional participation in this export trade. The major players came in nearly equal proportions from the Basque Country (iron), Castile and La Rioja (textiles), Asturias, Catalonia (textiles) and silk. There was also a minute but formidable group of resident, foreign-born traders, including Patricio Murrogh whose roots were in Cork, Ireland. A further telling yardstick of the weak Galician pre-1800 transatlantic trade penetration is evident from a list of the top 15 traders operating from Corunna: only one Galician trader was in evidence and he was only ranked as number ten (Alonso Alvarez, 1986) The final few years of the eighteenth century witnessed a rapid slackening off of the colonial trade. War with England starting in 1797 allowed North American boats to supply Cuba with essentials. Independence for many South American states ruptured established colonial trade connections with Spain. The final blow was the transfer of the hub of the colonial postal line to a new base at Ferrol in what was then believed to be a securer centre. Corunna’s participation in this colonial trade went literally into free fall and many merchants were ruined and forced into bankruptcy. A discriminating measure of these deteriorating conditions was the sudden fall in the number of licensed merchants operating at Corunna. It has already been noted that in 1792, 322 merchants were working out of that port; by 1815, the number had fallen to only 44. Nevertheless, this startling diminution in numbers concealed other important modifications in the structure of the port’s commercial community. Many of the venerable surnames so prominent throughout the preceding century, such as the Galician Genaro Fontenla, or the Basque López Sagastizqabal, were then only distant memories. They had been replaced by a new group of smaller-scale local operators.

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Privateering and slaving – a final resort Seldom able to trade directly with Cuba and the other islands, many of these individuals were game to turn their attention to any profit-making enterprise. In this way, privateering offered one such outlet, as did slaving in more peaceful times (Torres Ramírez, 1973). Nearly all of these ‘merchants’ turned to contraband activities with foreign-produced commodities to bolster their precarious and unstable financial conditions (Alonso Alvarez, 1986). The excellent archives that meticulously record the number of active privateers confirm that Corunna was far and away the leading centre for these kinds of activities in the first two decades of the nineteenth century. It accounted for twothirds of all the sanctioned regional personnel [total c.73] and a similar proportion of operations at sea – each individual notched two on average. Slaving was an activity telescoped into a much shorter period. The years extending between 1816 and 1820 witnessed most activity. This corresponded to Spain’s brief advantage stemming from prohibition in England and Europe’s insatiable demand for more and more sugar (Moreno Fraginals, 1978). Most slavers were known colloquially as negreros. In fact, some 80 per cent plus were gallegos from Corunna. If the criteria employed are certified slaving expeditions, the proportion attributable to this port rises to over 90 per cent. Merchant outlays for slaving expeditions from Corunna during the high water mark of this trade was little different from the costs incurred by merchants on La Carrera de Indias. The contrast was that the profits deriving from a successful slaving venture were astronomically superior to those accruing to outfitters of normal trade. Officially history after 1820, slaving was a murky business that continued on a clandestine basis for many years with furtive landings, especially into Cuba. Old forelands and new migration fields Prescribed migration out of Corunna also began towards the end of the eighteenth century and it mainly involved gallegos and leoneses. They were encouraged by Carlos III from 1773 onwards to settle for strategic reasons in and around the River Plate and particularly in Patagonia and on the Islas Malvinas. This trickle of people was a prelude, in the following century, to a massive permissive movement of people, especially from Galicia, to southern regions of South America. The initial operation was a well-planned enterprise with skilled married craftspeople being carefully recruited. Attractive inducements offered to would-be migrants included the supply of cattle and sometimes other stock; where appropriate, tools were also provided to the skilled for craft production and for farming. On the other side of the Atlantic, the implementation of these colonial goals quickly became too relaxed. It also proved difficult to sustain the delivery of supplies to scattered and remote settler groups in southern Patagonia. Many were to give up the struggle and moved northwards to the more promising Pampas around the River Plate. Although the numbers involved were small, and despite its brittle footing, this movement was to serve as a foundation that attracted thousands who were to leave in freer times during the following century. To cater for the growing number of migrants moving overseas, parts of Corunna’s cantones were transformed by the opening of ticket and shipping offices and this was a prelude to its more active role as a port for transatlantic migration traffic.

Locale and context The so-called Golf de Atribato marks an important physical boundary; here the coast of Galicia turns towards the Cornisa Cantabrica and the northern zone of the Rias Altas begins (see Figure 9.1).

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Three magnificent rias in this area converge onto the open sea and two of these have witnessed the spectacular port development, first and foremost, at Corunna and also much more recently at the excellently sheltered arsenal of Ferrol (see Figure 9.1). Separating these two rias is the narrower and slowly silting-up Ría de Betanzos, whose chief urban centre, of the same name and former provincial capital, never developed a sustained maritime vocation as ships requiring a deep draught could not reach it. Modern Corunna was founded by Alfonso IX in 1208 and it was quickly to emerge as a port of considerable vitality no doubt due in part to its focal location on the coastline. (Barral Rivadulla, 1997). The foundation charter [fuero] endowed the settlement with liberties that extended for a two-mile radius from the centre. It also provided a patriarchate of local merchants with the juridical instruments to administer the settlement. By the fourteenth century, municipal documents confirm that it had an increasingly influential merchant faction composed of ships outfitters, traders and skilled artisans. Even by 1256, they were powerful enough to extract from the then king, Alfonso X (1221–84), an exemption from being obliged to fund the royal coffers and in so doing, experience the loss of their savings (Barreiro Fernández, 1986). Why then did the monarchy stake so much on the development of Corunna? The response is simple: it was the only port in Galicia, apart from Bayonna, that belonged to the crown.

Early modern endowment Corunna, not unlike Cádiz, is sited on a magnificent tombolo that has provided an excellent location for a sheltered harbour to develop (see Figure 9.1). However, by the early fourteenth century, its basic urban topography was well established. Protected by a poorly built wall, what is known as La Ciudad Alta or Vieja, was sited on a prominence near the famous lighthouse – Torre de Hércules. It acted as the administrative, ceremonial and defensive heart of the settlement over the entire medieval period (Soraluce Blond, 1985). The wall was easily breached during the English siege in 1589 and this incident served as the catalyst to amplify and enhance the town’s defences. The zone itself was composed of a series of small plazas, most of which were fronted by a modest parish church, and they were connected to each other by attractively paved streets as is evident from a reconstruction of the town from the end of the fifteenth century. Outside these inadequately fortified walls there were a redoubt beside two religious houses and (ruins?) of a prominent lighthouse. The most famous of its extramural suburbs was known as La Pescadería. There was also the smaller Barrio de San Tomás, both of whose names appear for the first time in municipal documents towards the end of the fourteenth century. Effectively, the former of these two suburbs functioned as the commercial heart of the town. Known always as La Pescadería, it was positioned almost parallel to the waterside on the southern more sheltered part of the tombolo (see Figure 9.4). Its three main thoroughfares had a similar disposition and its few short connecting streets ran at right-angles to the sea-shore. Physically separated from the main urban nucleus of La Ciudad Alta, it was partially protected, on one side only, by extremely flimsy defences. Nevertheless, La Pescadería was the port – El Puerto –and it was the commercial centre of the settlement; it soon became the preferred residential zone for all of those people who depended on the sea for their livelihoods. Towards the end of the fifteenth and especially during the sixteenth century, there are constant written allusions to the rivalry between the principal component parts of the settlement and it was a contest that La Pescadería nearly always won (Estrada Gallardo, 1969–70). There are frequent royal decrees [reales cédulas] certified by various monarchs obliging residents and all householders of La Ciudad Alta to remain there and not to move to the port – La Pescadería. These edicts failed, however, to prevent human haemorrhage from intensifying

Corunna: A Provincial Port

Figure 9.4

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Marín’s 1755 plan of Corunna. Drawn from plan

(Saavedra Vázquez, 1994). By 1504, the competition was all but resolved. A contemporary document noted that if the Pescadería was to be transposed inside the Ciudad Alta, only half of its area could have been accommodated there (Barral Rivadulla, 1997). In that same year, the Pescadería could count some 900 vecinos as well as ‘better houses’ and ‘many more impressive palacios’; by contrast there were only some 200 vecinos recorded as residents in La Ciudad Alta. To redress this balance, the key institution regulating the regional civil government, La Audencia del Reino de Galicia was established within La Ciudad Alta as an antidote to its continuing depopulation and abandonment. Together with the municipal cabildo also located there, the establishment of La Audencia drew in a clatter of functionaries such as lawyers, solicitors, scribes, reporters, actuaries, accountants, nobles, bailiffs and many more lowly officials. This attempt to reconstitute La Ciudad Alta as the superior sector of the settlement was not realised; however, it breathed new life into the area by diversifying its functions, attracting new occupations and broadening its class structures. It was also designated as military command centre for all of Galicia – La Capitanía General de Galicia – further consolidating its administrative functions. The establishment of various military structures, such as barracks and arsenals, endowed it with martial qualities that it still retains (Bonet Correa, 1991). As a result of its fortress-like ambience, a vecindario for the late sixteenth century confirms that 40 per cent of its residents were high net-tax contributors; the equivalent figure for La Pescadería was 20 per cent.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

During the sixteenth century, Corunna’s population total was quite unstable for reasons that are, as yet, unclear. At the start and at the end of the century in question, the total was c.2,000 residents, while in 1571, it was nearly three times that number. A vecindario for 1588 indicates that a quarter of the then heads of households were seamen, less than 4 per cent of the population being returned as merchants. At the time of the English assault in 1589, the port and its barrio, La Pescadería, had emerged as the most populous and economically most active part of the settlement. Still, there were many contradictions in the spatial organisation of the settlement. La Ciudad Alta remained the administrative, military and religious hub and it could count on the best defences including its wall and several forts (Cámara Muñoz, 1991). The meagre defensive capacity of La Pescadería no doubt contributed to the ease with which, in 1589, Drake sacked and burnt it. Immediately thereafter, the authorities resolved to not only protect the entire settlement as a unit, but also to erect defences and strengthen the entire coastline, and especially the three immediately adjacent rias (Soraluce Blond, 1985). The failure of the Gran Armada (1588) to achieve its objectives and the 1589 attack ushered in a period when scarce resources were allocated towards the further militarisation of Corunna. They were devoted to the consolidation of its walled fortifications and of its detached defences, particularly the fort of Santo Tomás and its contiguous coastal settlements (Soraluce Blond, 1985). The result of these royal solicitudes was the production of a plethora of plans by a series of military engineers culminating in the making in 1639 of the earliest surviving plan of Corunna by Santans y Tapia (1639 reproduced in González-Cebrián Tello, 1984). Comparing this plan especially with two other contrasting plans of Corunna made during the seventeenth century – namely de Zuñiga, 1667 and Renau, 1702 – confirm the degree to which the settlement had now become militarised (Chavert Díaz, 1978). The earliest of the three plans drawn by Santans y Tapia allows us reconstruct the broad sinews of Corunna’s urban morphology. It stresses the rather chaotic nature of the settlement, which was cut up into two major sectors, each with its own defences, and between them were the lighthouse, a large and elaborate star-shaped fort, a convent and a monastery. Rather than being even an impressionistic plan, the work of Santans y Tapia is really a painted image of a complicated settlement that contrasts the more geometrically structured streetscape of La Pescadería with much more cluttered arrangements in La Ciudad Alta. This so-called Plano de La Coruña is a representation drawn to scale (10 pasos (steps) to 5 pies (feet)) and it plainly exaggerates the settlement’s peninsular location, its extent and the nature of the defences (Soraluce Blond, 1985). The cartographer deploys colours exquisitely to indicate elevation, land use and the variations in depth of the adjacent sea both in El Puerto and the more open Ensenada de Orzán. A request by the king, Phillip IV, in 1625 for an accurate inventory of Galicia’s maritime defences led to the production of a detailed vecindario for Corunna. It confirms that, with a population of c.7,000, only modest growth had occurred since the start of the seventeenth century (Ciudad Rodrigo, 1600–09). There were some 872 houses occupied in La Pescadería and there were 340 in La Ciudad Alta. More houses were located outside the principal urban defences. It is impossible to estimate their total and the nature of the connections between their residents and the town.

Becoming a provincial port settlement Until the mid-eighteenth century, Corunna’s population growth was slow. There were periods of negative change promoted by a high incidence of infant mortality, economic decline and the frequent outbreaks of plague. An early peak was notched up c.1580, when c.1,000 vecinos were counted, giving a total population of c.5,000 souls. By the time of the famous 1597 census,

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the number of vecinos had fallen too less than 350. When the splendid mid-eighteenth-century Catastro was conducted, slightly more than 2,000 vecinos were noted confirming that the rate of population growth over the preceding century and a half had been most sluggish. The birth rate was unspectacular and a significant proportion of population growth can be accounted for by immigration. Many unmarried were members of the defence forces (Barreiro Mallón, 1990). Linked indelibly to the presence of many military ‘celibates’ were a persistently high number of illegitimate births. Another deeply curious feature of the port’s demographic ensemble was the extraordinary imbalance in its 1787 age structure in the 16–25 cohort; 63 per cent were female and only 37 per cent male. These conditions may relate to many young males being conscripted for naval service; strangely, the equivalent provincial total was 43 to 57 per cent. The occupational structure of the settlement in 1752 can crudely be assigned almost in equal proportions to three major sectors. To begin with, there was an administrative and shopocracy where some of the sellers also acted as tradespeople. There was an artesanal sector and here one of the most notable groups was those working for the Real Maestranza de Mantelería, many of whom were combers and spinners (Enciso Recio, 1963). The final censal tranche was made up of the unskilled, the poor and ‘women’ heads of households. The urban elite was part of the first group. It must have summed to only a small proportion of the total population of the town, probably to less than eight per cent. They represented the quintessential dedication of the town: regional and local urban administration. Regrettably, for unknown reasons, data from the 1752 Catastro for Corunna are more inadequate than for many other centres (Barreiro Mallón, 1990). There are few mentions of housing conditions and no attempt to link them with identified individuals. A person’s recorded incoming capital only related to assets originating only within the urban municipal boundary. This form of calibration omitted substantial agricultural and rental income, rendering it difficult to achieve statistical precision in the allocation of individuals to different putative classes. It might be that the enumerators shared the reputed Galician characteristic of evasiveness! On the positive side, this census yields discriminating information relating the number of servants, the principal occupations and the scale of the locally generated income for heads of households. No more than a score of regidores (aldermen) were at the pinnacle of the social hierarchy, however not every regidor was a member of this influential coterie. Their prominence rested on property ownership and the rents derived from these assets. The fact that Corunna was both a key military (and for a time a naval) administrative centre meant that the regidores were a cabal of individuals who held exemplary offices in some of its institutions such as La Real Audencia, La Capitanía General, El Intendente General del Ejército and finally El Intendente General de la Marina. High office was not always tantamount to bloated salaries and many of these office-holders were by no means exceedingly rich, although it is clear that most of them enjoyed extra incomes from ‘ honorific’ offices and cargos that they discharged. Their rank had much to do with the prestige of their office. The rentier class was composed of some 30 hidalgo families, that is, just less than 8 per cent of this group who counted together as 18 per cent of the total number of recorded residents. Members of this genteel group owned and leased houses and holdings within, and without, the urban limits. The cusp element of society marshalled a tally of some 4 per cent of the total. However, these notables were an unusual group; they were attracted to the port town as office-holders in its leading institutions and came mainly from outside Galicia. The real dedication of mid-eighteenth century Corunna is manifest from the censal data that yield critical evidence regarding the composition of the town’s commercial elements and the nature and number of locally owned and registered trading vessels (Martínez Barreiro, 1981). The massive preponderance of street-traders underlines the centre’s extremely restricted spatial reach. Only 16

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members of this group were merchant-traders. A further yardstick of the feeble condition of the port was the fact that the largest locally registered vessel slightly exceeded 50 tons and there was a score of smaller boats, seven of which were ‘minute’ (AGS, 1763–80). While not members of this bundle of related occupations, the paltry number of locally registered sailors was additional corroboration of the lack of commercial vitality. This group tallied up to about a fifth of the resident population. The craftspeople summed together accounted for slightly less than a third of the population. It was an assemblage of great diversity. It included most of the skilled operatives working with La Real Maestranza de Mantelería, which was the largest employer. Founded in 1685, its golden years coincided with the final quarter of the subsequent century. Many of its artisans worked from their homes where they frequently employed a few skilled hands, while some items were often put out to be finished (Enciso Recio, 1963). For whatever reasons, the returns of the 1752 Catastro massively underscored slightly later estimates by such authorities as Larruga in 1799 (Larruga, 1787–1800) and Labrada (1804) who assigned 500 spinners to the facility. True, there were other small textile production units, few employed more than 25 permanent staff members (Barreiro Fernández, 1986). Within the urban area, 2,400 ferrados [a land measure from Galicia; 1 ferrado = 4.2 to 6.3 áreas] of land were registered, yet none of the 73 people who worked these holdings owned them. Likewise, the vast mass of recorded women was poor and property less. Demographically and socially, Corunna was a town of social contrasts sharpening increasingly during the second half of the eighteenth century. The port was becoming more active; there were more immigrants; however, there was an antecedent class structure where the presence of administrative and military sectors weighed heavily against sudden change.

Libre comercio and urban morphology: What relationships? A number of key characteristics are associated with the evolving morphology of the port town of Corunna during the eighteenth century. Perhaps the principal element was the almost paranoid concerns of military and naval authorities to provide security in the form of a bulwark of stout defences and for which a veritable plethora of plans were produced during the century by a host of military engineers, a fraction of which were translated into bricks and mortar (Soraluce Blond, 1985). The degree to which the town was militarised was also expressed in the number of barracks, arsenals, prisons, military hospitals and administrative buildings making up what would no doubt be now called a command and control centre. This pervasive militarisation, as has already been noted, was also keenly engraved in the port’s social structure (Bonet Correa, 1991). Fortunately for us today, some of the plans incorporated accurate and exquisite contemporary maps and surveys of the town (González-Cebrián Tello, 1984). They also furnish an excellent base for assisting in unravelling its morphological evolution during the eighteenth century (Estrada Gallardo, 1969–70). As the art of urban defence, design and emplacement rapidly took quantum leaps of progress in the early part of the eighteenth century, there were persistent attempts at expanding Corunna’s defences. One of the essential aims of the promoters of these improvements was to enhance the gravely deteriorated conditions of the town walls and synchronise the defences of La Ciudad Alta and La Pescadería. Most of the key administrative buildings, all of which were located in La Ciudad Alta, were too small, in a bad state of repair or inadequately staffed in the first half of the century. They were soon being repaired, rebuilt or reconstructed. Here we are referring to La Real Audencia, El Hospital Real, El Ayuntamiento – Casa de Harina, La Veeduría, La Casa de la Moneda, El Almacén de la Torre. Their upgrading was a central element of the overall strategic rehabilitation of the town.

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It was only with the appointment of a most innovative engineer in 1770, Martín Cermeno, that attention was extended to La Pescadería and several key new buildings were erected, for instance, La Aduana, Las Casa de Paredes and El Real Consulado. The erection of a new fortress where an older fuerte had been demolished at the entrance to the harbour – the so-called Castillo de San Antón – in 1779, marked a culmination of a phase of massive deployment of new fortifications (Vedia y Goossens, [1845]1972). Apart from the military plans, several excellent maps of the city were produced (Méndez Martínez, 1994). Three separate plans allow us to piece together the principal structural characteristics of the settlement and they have been reproduced by GonzálezCebrián Tello (1984) and include the ones by Montaigu (1726; see Plate 12), Marín (1755; see Plate 13) and finally the plan by Gianzo (c.1819 ; see Plate 14). All of them coincide in depicting La Pescadería and La Ciudad Alta as almost two discrete entities. Collectively, they powerfully highlight the principal fortifications and most of the buildings of military significance. They also reveal the weaknesses of the seaward defences of La Pescadería especially around El Orzán while simultaneously exaggerating their scale on the landward edge. Comparing the contents of the plans of Montaigu and Marín, it is evident that little, if any, physical expansion took place in the first half of the eighteenth century (see Plates 12 and 13). Indeed, matching these plans with the already cited 1639 depiction, there is a strong suggestion of physical stagnation over a much longer period, as the only district within the principal defences capable of considerable expansion was La Pescadería. Even the growth that occurred there was insubstantial. Little change is evident between 1726 and 1755, particularly in and around La Ciudad Alta. By then, it was a fossilised medieval core organised internally as a suite of small squares integrated by a series of parish churches, convents and monasteries, connected to each other by short, but attractive, residential streets (see Figure 9.4). La Ciudad Alta remained the principal administrative, ecclesiastical and military hub, as all the leading public and leading military buildings remained located there. It was rudely separated from La Pescadería by massive star-shaped defences (see Figure 9.4 and Plates 12 and 13). Likewise, little modification is evident over the same period in and around La Pescadería. It appeared as if it was almost an urban annex to a more venerable core. Its auxiliary nature was expressed in the fact that neither did it house any public building of any significance, nor was it the locus for any key administrative function. It acted as the parish centre for five of the settlement’s sixteen parishes. La Pescadería’s axial form consisted of two elongated streets separated aligned at right angles to the southern shore at El Puerto. Its appearance was in no small measure influenced by the fact that it was constructed on the neck of a tombolo. The area between these thoroughfares was divided up into majestic and very extensive blocks [manzanas], some of which were further subdivided. They were occupied by a mixture of warehouses, workshops and residences (see Figure 9.4). Both the buildings and the blocks facing south at El Puerto were imposing and often very extensive. Here, after all, was the commercial core of the settlements, the docks, the wharfs, the port and the houses of those who depended on the vitality of the coming and goings of ships and their cargoes. To the north, looking out to El Orzán, the buildings were of more humble dimensions and there were more warehouses in this area. Given La Pescadería’s enhanced functional assets, it too began to acquire higher order roles and its morphology began to display subtle alterations. The buildings on the waterfront were gradually collected into blocks, the prices of buildings and sites there became inflated and a handful of public buildings appeared (Chavert Díaz, 1978). Most crucially, a series of miniature open spaces and small plazas developed within the fabric of the settlement, usually at crossroads where some space could be won for public use. Open space has remained a perennial problem for this congested port centre. Even today, as technology has permitted many buildings to rise upwards, city authorities have not demanded any compensation in the form the provision of extensive internal open spaces.

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

In the closing years of the century, new suburbs made their appearance, such as Santa Lucía outside the walls, and the older established district of Santo Tomás expanded. The growth of these particular suburbs is most strikingly confirmed on the Gianzo’s c.1819 map; in fact they are the only zones of the town that recorded significant physical enlargement in the period since 1755, the date of Marín’s magnificent plan noted above (see Plate 13). Also noteworthy are the consummate skills deployed by its cartographer to depict altitudes, slope direction and the nature of the coastline (see Figure 9.4 and Plate 13). Indeed, the representation of all other prominent physical features, notably beaches and even cultural elements, such as agras [small areas of open fields], at the perimeter of the settlement are expedited with accuracy and elegance; military considerations were no doubt paramount. The condition of the harbour was a disaster; much of it remained neglected. It covers a sea area equivalent to 150 hecaters and much of this area can confidently yield of a draught of more than 11 metres, making it an asset of exceptional quality, especially given its sheltered location. Yet this fine spacious harbour had only a mediocre pier and poor wharfs until very late into the next century. Vessels had to anchor offshore, unload onto lighters and dispatch the goods by cart over a beach to adjacent warehouses. Minimal harbour facilities were available and only small-scale improvements were effected to the physical capabilities of the port until well into the nineteenth century (González-Cebrián Tello, 1984). Surprisingly, in fact, it was one of the last components of the urban fabric to be subjected to rigorous planning, which was only implemented after 1865 in a most piecemeal way. Then a series of docks, quays and wharfs were built. The port also became an emigrant departure point after 1853. Prior to that date, external migration was carefully controlled. As always in Galician life, there were those only too well disposed to work on the black market who were content to divert this trade in human misery out of Portugal and on to the New World. The radical departure of 1853 initiated a number of major changes such as the gradual elimination of clandestine slavery. In Cuba, slaves were replaced by the arrival from 1847 of Chinese indentured labourers. Their arrival at the rate of 10,000 a year was not enough to reduce the labour shortage on the sugar estates (Guerra y Sánchez, 1964; Rodríguez Galdo and Dopico, 1981). A series of subsistence crises in the 1850s in Galicia provided the catalyst to sanction the legal flow of migrants to Cuba. Numbers leaving were small, rarely exceeding a 1,000 a year, the flow was erratic and the few local shippers invested in the movement of migrants were soon replaced by major international passenger companies. From then on, as in the case of Santander, they were simply local agents and ticket sellers for these companies.

Reorientation and expansion The fabric of the port city experienced a sea change in the subsequent century. Defences suddenly ceased to be a relevant consideration, suggesting that change could be considered for the entire settlement. Not only that, it meant that the existing defences could be removed and, in addition, the sale of church property offered further exciting possibilities for infill and expansion. The walls of La Ciudad Alta were demolished in 1840 and those of La Pescadería in 1869. These dates marked important benchmarks in the settlement’s morphological development. A most daring departure was the construction of a new plaza, first known as La Plaza del Derribo [demolition], later as La Plaza de Alenson and more durably as La Plaza de María Pita, which was fronted by an outstanding town hall physically uniting the leading constituent parts of the settlement (Chavert Díaz, 1978). It drew in the district of Santo Tomás as part of the urban fabric.

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Within La Ciudad Alta many small residential blocks were melded together. In addition, the military sector of the zone came to be concentrated in one area. Likewise, in 1869, similar possibilities for growth attended the demolition of the walls of La Pescadería allowing this zone physically to connect with its surrounding districts and in particular with the medieval core. Even in the first half of the nineteenth century, La Ciudad Alta experienced difficult times, as in 1837, when Borrow passed through and noted that ‘the old town is a desolate ruinous place’ the new town was’a much more agreeable place, separated from the old town by a wide moat. The modern town is a much more agreeable spot, and contains one magnificent street, La Calle Real, where the principal merchants reside’ (Borrow, 1842). He also asserted that the town’s once considerable commerce had recently departed to Santander. More than in any other Spanish Atlantic port city, the two principal thoroughfares of Corunna fronting El Puerto along La Pescadería are exquisite architectural masterpieces (Castro Airenes, 1975). Known since the sixteenth century as the Los Cantones, these very long, partially seafronting streets, acted as the stage for the appearance of some of Galicia’s most attractive and often spectacularly luxurious vernacular architecture expressed in the so-called galerías- [façade] fronted residences (Bonet Correa, 1990; Borzal, 1991). These houses became especially a feature of the principal cantones (Martínez, 1975). They consist often of four to five stories, made of decorated timber framed large glass windows (Martínez Suárez, 1987). Some of these protrude out as balconies and are often embellished by fine wrought-iron work. The arc-like curve of these exquisitely finished buildings fronting the port is one of the most refreshing streetscapes to be found at the heart of any Atlantic Iberian port city. The most stunning series of these buildings is known as La Marina (Martínez Suárez, 1987). Most were built as residences mainly for merchants by architect Domínguez between 1869 and 1884 (Bonet Correa, 1990). It no wonder that popular memory in Galicia identifies Corunna as the leading propagator and supporter of the enlightenment. These buildings and the manner in which they were assembled on the cantones represent an illustration of those times and the aspirations of those who made them (González Cebrián, 1999). For some contemporary polemicists, such as Madoz (1845–50) or Vedia y Goosens (1845), Corunna was a liberal town pervaded by a mercantile ethos; Santiago and other inland settlements were prisoners of their aristocratic, rentier and symbolic pasts (Tettamacy, 1900).

Inmigration, industry and mail port With a population of some 33,739, Corunna in 1877 remained a moderately sized port town. It now had become the largest town in Galicia. Its growth had accelerated since 1857 when it recorded a population of 27,000, and reached a crest in 1897 when there were some 43,000 residents. In the second half of the nineteenth century, it was the fastest-growing large town in the region. In 1897, no other town could challenge its primacy in numbers. In 1857, it was only 1,000 residents ahead of Santiago; by 1897, Santiago had fallen into fourth position in the regional hierarchy with a population of 24,000, having been overtaken by both Lugo (27,000) and Ferrol (25,000). Corunna’s ascendancy signals the end of a protracted period of urban instability. Approximately 80 per cent of its 1877 population resided in some 5,125 houses sited in La Pescadería and the remainder in some 1,139 houses in La Ciudad Alta. The port-town’s first major ensanche [planned expansion] was implemented between 1875 and 1878 (Gallego Jorreto and González Cebrián, 1975). It involved the provision of some social housing within what had been part of the former walled area. What then provoked and sustained the rehabilitation of the port-town’s fortunes and furnished the dynamic for its growth? Undoubtedly, inward migration was a major subscriber. The diversification and expansion of a production base within the settlement were key sponsors of

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growth. Increased employment in lace and textile-making units (est. 1870, 1872, 1877), a major tobacco facility (est. 1804), iron and glass (1870) production units, the managerial and the utter technological transformation of fish capturing, conservation and marketing led to the foundation of many canning units (est. 1863, 1870). Match production (est. 1875) and at least a half a dozen food processing units, as well as, the foundation and prospering of a number of educational establishments collectively made a robust donation to growth, as did the new residential possibilities offered by the town’s earlier ensanche. It has been suggested that some 4,000 operatives made the workforce of the tobacco factory at the other end of the century; but this seems to be an exaggerated claim (Barreiro Fernández, 1986). Several financial institutions were also established after mid-century, including two banks, some lending agencies and several insurance houses. The leading bank in the state set up a branch in 1875. In the 1890s, there were also 16 companies acting as houses of exchange for foreign currencies (Faginas Arcuaz, 1890). These companies provided basic financial services for the new dynamic, indigenous, largely export-dependent, productive sector. Some of these developments also contributed to the revitalisation of the port, whose energy was increasingly export led (Frax Rosales, 1981). How different were conditions after the elapse of a century! In 1800, war, the independence of the American colonies and the transfer of the state-driven mail operation to Ferrol in 1804 all had contributed to sap the port’s import–export-led vitality. These and other processes provided an impetus for the growth of other port settlements. Corunna’s emergence as a major Atlantic fishing centre at the end of the nineteenth century also galvanised its development (O’Flanagan, 1996).

More Galician and Asturian ports The treaty of Utrecht (1713) left Spain with its disparate, vast and immensely resource-rich overseas land empires virtually intact. Its leaders at this time were acutely cognisant of the urgent need to protect their empire, especially its lines of communication with its overseas territories. The reconstitution of the navy and merchant marine came quickly to be one of the principal priorities of Philip V and his ministers. Their penetrating reforms affected all aspects of maritime enterprise extending, for instance, from the training of personnel, the introduction of more advanced boatbuilding techniques including superior outfitting, to the growing militarisation of the coastline and the key ports through the erection of new or enhanced fortifications. The promulgation in 1748 of new laws relating to woodland management ensured sustained production and supply on demand (Bauer, 1991; Goodman, 1997; Urteaga, 1987). Critically, the coastline was also carved into a series of naval departments, key arsenals and shipbuilding yards (Casado Soto, 1996b). In 1726, Cádiz, Cartagena and Ferrol in Galicia were designated as the principal centres of the respective maritime departments. The dockyards at Havana and Guarnizo, beside Santander, were the principal shipbuilding centres. This administrative purge culminated in the creation in 1737 of the admiralty [El Almirantazgo]. Other important innovations included the introduction of a sort of maritime personnel registration procedure in 1751 [matrículas del mar], as well as the establishment of a permanent corps of Marine Engineers. Among the principal reasons for the selection of Ferrol to act as a major naval installation were the supposedly inexhaustible supply of wood within easy reach of the port and its growing scarcity further to the east (see Chapter 7, Figure 7.1). After all, more than 80 per cent of the boats operating out of sixteenth-century Seville had been built at yards between Santander and Pasajes (Chaunu, 1955–60). Weak maritime defensive capacity was also another marked consideration for the choice of a Galician site. Unlike other designated centres, Ferrol was essentially a new town, built up on

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a green-field site located in a magnificent natural harbour that could be inexpensively fortified, at least, against maritime assault. However, sustainable wood production practices were never put into place and wood shortages soon afflicted the new yards (Urteaga, 1987). At the southern tip of Galicia, the port city of Vigo only emerged as a serious competitor for Corunna during the twentieth century as a consequence of the explosive industrialisation of its fishing sector (O’Flanagan, 1996). Vigo handled a growing number of emigrants in the latter end of the nineteenth century. Even in this arena, it never mounted a real challenge against Corunna (Souto González, 1990).To the east, for different reasons, the ports of Asturias,were never a threat to either Corunna or Santander and despite the successful extraction of mineral resources, the Asturian ports never enjoyed the achievements of Bilbao. Within and between both Asturias and Galicia, again up to very recently, terrestrial communications have been woefully inadequate, arresting economic growth for centuries (Carmona Badía, 1990; Peribáñez Cavada, 1990). Here the Cordillera Cantábrica often extends over 90 km north to south, and peaks of more than 2,000 metres are not more than 30 km distant from the coastline (Murcia Navarro, 1981; San Miguel, 1789). Even more interestingly, in the 1750s, both Asturias and Galicia had, ‘inland’ capitals at Oviedo and Santiago de Compostela respectively. This kind of dedication was utterly at variance with Cantabria and the Basque provinces. Overland, matters were not much better (Anes, 1988). The post from Madrid to Asturias in 1761 had to travel by horse all the way from La Bañeza in León, such was the dreadful condition of the roads (Rodríguez Campomanes, 1761). By the end of the eighteenth century, Asturias was linked by road with Castile (Ocampo, 1987). It took another century to link Asturias with its neighbouring provinces of Lugo to the west and Santander to the east. As late as 1877, there were only 22 km of road in Asturias for every 10,000 residents (Gazeta del Constructor, 1877, p. xiv). Railway construction was also late and inadequate. Mineral extraction here, as in Bizkaia, was also the catalyst for its initiation. The first line linked Langreo with Xixón in 1852 and a Mesetan line connecting Xixón with León was not completed until 1884 (Adaro Ruiz, 1976). Low levels of provincial urbanisation until the late nineteenth century mining boom (Lanza García, 1991), a weak manufacturing base and a farming sector that was small scale and weakly commercialised (Maruri Villanueva, 1990) helped to arrest the development of ports in Asturias (García Fernández, 1976). Xixón became the premier coal-exporting centre in Asturias and it accounted for between 70 and 80 per cent of all exports of coal between 1845 and 1850 (Peribáñez Cavada, 1990). It was also the region’s principal port and re-exporting centre, weighted in terms of the number of boats entering and leaving. Nearly a third of all goods traffic from all the ports of Asturias sailed into, or out of, the port of Xixón. Its nearest rival in 1846, Avilés, could only muster 12 per cent of the provincial seaborne trade (Madoz, 1845–50). The volumes of coal exports were small, as there was a huge imbalance between the easily extractable amounts of coal and the volumes that could be transported to, and shipped from, the ports. Most of the maritime trade originating in the leading Asturian ports was short distance, though extra-regional tramping in generally small locally owned vessels was frequent and the coal trade progressively was carried by foreign-owned larger boats. Reflecting the needs for additional port facilities at Xixón, works commenced in 1858 to build an improved pier and these changes culminated in the construction, starting in 1893, of a new port at El Musel that was only finally completed in 1935. The initiative for the new port grew out of the deliberations of a development company founded by commercial interests in 1881 to rescue the port-town from stagnation (Ojeada, 1975). By the end of the nineteenth century, Xixón was well connected by rail with the principal coal producing centres in Asturias, as well as with Oviedo, the provincial capital (see Figure 9.5). With the arrival at Xixón of enormous volumes of coal, once the railways were established, manufacturing activities began to appear especially after 1870. Glass, china production and canning

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Figure 9.5

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Late nineteenth-century links between Asturian ports and Castile

came early followed by gas (1869), steel (1879), a petrol refinery (1890), mining implements and machinery (1892); a major brewery and a large sugar mill were erected in the same year (1893). There were significant outside capital inputs (Alvargonzález et al., 1985). A final phase of industrial expansion, with much higher degrees of foreign capital investment began in the mid-90s and continued into the very early years of the next century. It managed to notch up a respectable population increase during the last quarter of the nineteenth century leaving it with a population of slightly below 30,000 residents (Alvargonzález, 1986).

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Avilés, the nearby sister port of Xixón was clearly the leading Asturian port in late medieval times. It was a member of the so-called Hermandad de Las Ocho Villas, which was a federation of the following ports: Bayonne (in France), Fuentearrabia, Bilbao, Santander, Ribadeo and Corunna and Bayona in today’s province of Pontevedra. It was the only Asturian port licensed by Philip II to carry Mesetan wool northwards. The growth in size of ships with larger draughts, especially during the sixteenth century, helped to further marginalise Avilés (Uría Ríu, 1967). The earlier connection of Xixón by rail with the coalfields had, however, given it a head start that it managed to sustain and never lose. Nevertheless, Avilés also witnessed the emergence of a portfolio of manufacturing facilities that complemented those of its sister port. By 1900, a vibrant triangle of settlements had emerged in central coastal Asturias, with Oviedo as the administrative focus and two minor industrial port cities at Avilés and Xixón (see Figure 9.5). This triangle was to remain the engine of regional growth for decades, although it never developed the same rhythms of expansion as happened at Bilbao. The ports of Asturias and Galicia never developed critical mass to sustain involvement in transatlantic trade. A stagnant regional economy of Galicia and its general isolation undoubtedly arrested growth. Once again, a clear relationship can be established between port prosperity, throughput, urban expansion and demographic growth. Merchant success was brief and was achieved by outsiders who soon fled with the onset of colder economic conditions.

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Chapter 10

Santander: Wheat and Wool Emporium Locale and context The coastline of northern Atlantic Iberia, by comparison with Ireland, Norway or Scotland is relatively unindented. That fact should not delude anybody into believing that physical geography has been unkind, as there are a number of excellent inlets, drowned bays and extensive rias, which have offered splendid conditions for the evolution of ports. In was in these kinds of situations that the ports of Bilbao, Xixón, Santander and Pasajes evolved. A chain of parallel sierras running at right angles to the coast has been one of the main obstacles arresting the expansion of port hinterlands in northern Atlantic Spain. It is a theme we will have cause to return to later in this chapter (Madrazo, 1984). The coastal lowlands rarely extend in excess of 50 kilometres leaving the ports with limited agricultural hinterlands (Caro Baroja, 1977). What is clear is that between 1500 and 1750, most of the goods leaving Castile for the Atlantic, via Burgos, went in the direction of Bilbao. Indeed before 1700, there is little consensus amongst scholars concerning exactly which trajectories acted as the principal routes that linked Burgos with Santander (Lapeyre, 1981). Until then, movement of goods, especially of bulk items, was by sea. For these reasons, once a particular port had established its local pre-eminence, the next phase in its growth often involved the consolidation of its position by emerging as a regional communications hub. This is exactly what happened at Santander in the context of Los Cuatro Villas [the largest medieval port-towns]; it was, however, a protracted accomplishment. Of all the ports along the northern section of Atlantic Iberia, Santander is distinctive in a number of features. Most of the settlements on the northern coast of Spain face north. Santander was built, so to speak, behind a peninsula facing south providing it and much of its harbour with excellent shelter (see Figure 10.1). Effectively, La Bahía de Santander is an expansive drowned valley possessing a number of small rias (see Chapter 7, Figure 7.1 and Figure 10.1). Each of these fingers of the sea were harbours in their own right (Ureña Francés and Gómez Portilla, 1984). Indeed, the bay has always offered an excellent roadstead for ships. Problems related to sedimentation have long been a hindrance for ships. The incidence of sandbanks at the entrance to some of the rias, for instance La Ría de Cubas, has curtailed, or even ended, their maritime functions. Culturally, Santander and its province today, the autonomous region of Cantabria, belong to Castile. Its most enduring economic ties have always been with that region. After all, the town of Santander formed part of an administrative unit once known as El Corregimiento de las Cuatro Villas de la Costa de la Mar de Castilla. Other coastal settlements in this quartet were Castro Urdiales, Laredo and San Vicente de la Barquera. Together, they were the principal ports in the province of Cantabria. In the past, the entire area was known as La Montaña reflecting a time when the resources of the uplands were deemed more valuable than those of the coast. As a leading second-tier port whose vitality was severely curtailed by the monopoly, this chapter begins with a consideration of Santander’s early trading vocation and the evolution of its foreland and hinterland. The opening of an all-weather road to Castile via Reinosa unlocked new opportunities for wheat and wool producers and exporters of Castile products. It precipitated

232

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Figure 10. 1 Santander Bay in the seventeenth century a wheat boom. The consequences of Santander’s early commercial triumphs are considered in relation to the town’s morphological and social progress. This is followed by an evaluation of the contribution of the colonial and wheat trading boom to the physical and societal fabric, with special reference to the role of the merchant faction’s efforts to construct a custom-made residential district. This chapter concludes with an identification and analysis of the processes that eroded Santander’s trading career.

Early trading vocation The dates chosen to address this well-marked period in the evolution of the port start with the general decline of Burgos as a wool redistribution centre and finish with the completion of an excellent road across the Cantabrican sierras linking Santander with Castile. The embargo on direct trade with the colonies stunted commercial maritime expansion of all the ports of the northern littoral. It was not the only constraint (Zabala Uriarte, 1983). Overland transport routes have previously been alluded to as problematical. The ever-changing state of Spain’s commercial and military

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relations with her enemies and partners was not always an enabling factor spurring trade. National fiscal policies might be subject to sudden change with either positive or negative repercussions for particular ports. In addition, the capacity of a port’s merchant fraternity to expand or sustain their trading activities might also be relevant. When the wool ‘capital’ of Spain at Burgos went into terminal decline towards the end of the sixteenth century, it left a void at a port so dependent on wool as an export. Making a difficult situation worse, between 1545 and 1551, nearly 103,000 sacks of wool left the port of Santander in 137 recorded voyages; 37 per cent of the vessels came from Basque ports and only 15 per cent of the vessels were then registered at the wool’s departure port (Maza Solano, 1957). Peace and war then offered benefits and drawbacks for a port like Santander. Given its spacious harbour and its regional and international connections, it acted as a prime setting for mustering naval craft and troops. War posed its own difficulties. That ships might be requisitioned as a review of the participating vessels in the Gran Armada confirms this practice (Casado Soto, 1979–80). Worse still, skilled mariners levied for naval service created critical labour shortages. Port blockades, pirate and privateering activities could also damage trading practice. Like some other northern Atlantic Iberian ports, Santander depended on the export of goods produced elsewhere in its wider hinterland. It this sense, it acted as a primary assembly and redistribution node. It is convenient to separate exported merchandise into two categories; items like wood originating within Cantabria and goods produced outside the region. It also acted as a land based redistributive centre; raw materials produced in the region were gathered at Santander and sent overland to Castile, which was a wood-deficient region. The range and scale of these movements remain unknown. Finally, Santander acted as a military and naval marshalling centre; its shipbuilding and ancillary iron and wood production units was sporadically energised by naval requirements.

Foreland and hinterland evolution Apart from bullion, wool production and its commercialisation has attracted much scholarly attention and the work of Bilbao Bilbao (1984, 1986), Lapeyre (1981), Israel (1980), Maza Solano (1957), Palacio Atard (1960), Phillips and Phillips (1997) and Ulloa (1977) stand out. Specifically for Santander there is the research of Echeverría Alonso (1995). By the middle of the sixteenth century, Santander had emerged as the premier Cantabrican wool exporting port. At the end of that century, all of the main wool exporting ports reveal a dramatic drop in exports, the causes of which have been explained elsewhere (Lapeyre, 1981). Customs data for the following century show a period of punctuated growth. In the first quarter of the seventeenth century, annual wool exports out of Santander ran at about c.12,000 arrobas, in the second quarter the figure was some c.40,000 arrobas (Echeverría Alonso, 1995). From the 1650s onwards, a sharp decrease in the export of wool from Santander was recorded; totals attained in the earlier part of the century never were surpassed. How can this apparently abrupt reversal be accounted for? Clearly, it was not sudden at all. Volumes had already been falling and from the 1650s onwards, the decline became precipitous. The explanation for Santander’s inability to adapt to the fall-off is complex. It may relate to the fragile and weak structure of Santander’s mercantile capacity, its over-dependence on wool and its then frail commercial and financial infrastructure. The failure of Burgos seems to have most benefited Bilbao, as the operational management of the wool trade transferred to the latter settlement (Bilbao Bilbao, 1984). After 1650, foreign resident merchants with widespread Atlantic networks directed most aspects of the wool trade from that port. Before that, Burgalese merchants conducted the trade;

234

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

from 1626 onwards, most of the people who administered the trade were resident in Madrid and with surnames such as Méndes, Péres and Pereira, it is clear that most were Portuguese ‘new Christians’ whose orbits of business were especially strong in Amsterdam (Schama, 1988). At Santander, their agents looked after the wool when it finished its overland journey and arranged for its dispatch by sea. In reality, only a handful of merchants/agents were involved. This meant that effectively Santander acted as a maritime despatch depot. The only benefits accruing locally were wages for those involved in its movement, storage and dispatch. Rouen was the destination for sporadic shipments of wool up to 1635; then it was the turn of St Jean de Luz and almost without exception, most wool leaving Santander after that date was landed at Dover and London and finally from the late 1640s, at Amsterdam. Overland transport to Bilbao from Burgos was shorter and less arduous for wool movement and this may help to explain fluctuations in the quantities of wool exported from Santander. Also exported were cereals, though volumes, quality and frequencies were low. Most of the grains exported were wheat and 10 per cent was made up of barley. Virtually all came from Castile, whose record of production was extremely unstable; in some years, cereals had to be imported (Yun Casalilla, 1986). By 1657, wool exports ceased to leave Santander. Six years later, the same was true for cereals. Cereal went either to other northern Spanish ports or, in larger quantities, to serve the needs of the Spanish military on campaign, in their garrisons or on their ships. For instance, cargoes of wheat were often dispatched to the military at the presidios at Fuentearrabia and San Sebastián. In only one decade, the 1650s, were volumes considerable; for example, 32,000 fanegas of wheat were landed between 1653 and 1654. From what is the province of Cantabria today, wood and wood products formed the bulk of indigenous exports and the basis of most artesanal activities. The northern flanks of the Cantabrican sierras were well wooded because of the influence of the damp Atlantic climate and moreover these conditions facilitated the growth of some mixed deciduous woodlands (Aedo, 1990; Bauer, 1991; Maiso González, 1992; Goodman, 1997). No wonder the crown chose Guarnizo in 1582 as the site (see Figure 10.1) for a major shipyard on the ria (Castanedo Galán, 1993). As on the Nervión, shipbuilding was episodic and there were extended periods of inactivity. Consequently, installations had to be frequently rehabilitated. Still many ships were built at these yards (Casado Soto, 1988–98). Wood also supported a varied suite of iron works, notably one of the most enduring sites known as Los Altos Hornos de Liérganes y La Cavada (Alcalá Zamora y Queipo de Llano, 1974; Mercapide Compains, 1977). In operation since 1622, this forge produced cast iron and made artillery pieces and munitions besides producing more mundane items, such as farm implements. It was sited at the southern end of the Ría of Tejero. Beside it, a small port was established so that the products could be easily transferred in lighters to Santander and then shipped to Spain’s principal arsenals and shipyards. Because of its national significance, it obtained sporadic state support and for many years it was the only northern foundry to make good-quality cast iron. While data are unclear regarding the volume of munitions exported, sources agree that amounts were considerable and given that all kinds of ships were built and repaired in the ria, it was ideal to have such a major plant so adjacent (Maiso González, 1988). Finished and partly finished iron ingots and other products were sporadically exported; it was rare for these items to be exclusive cargo. The value of iron products was, of course, higher than most of the raw materials exported from Cantabria. This complex of production facilities linked to naval and commercial interests endowed Santander with a productive capacity in the seventeenth century found nowhere else to the west of this port. Wood products of all kinds were the most significant local raw material on ship’s inventories; oars and pipe staves were the centrepieces of this enterprise. Beach and oak were the most commercialised timbers; chestnut, poplar and walnut were also sent out in large amounts (Bauer,

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1991). Much of it was ultimately destined for shipbuilding (Artinaño, 1920). Wood remained a staple export during most of the seventeenth century and mid-century witnessed the most intense period of exports (González Echeverría, 1973). Many of the wood products that were exported from Santander were sourced from a diverse range of wood rich areas in the province and sent to local ports from where they were shipped to Santander (see Figure 10.2). Often local woodworkers from these areas were contracted in written agreements by merchants in the presence of a lawyer to produce a certain quantity of implements over a specific time period. These documents allow us to build up a picture of the principal source locations (see Figure 10.2). Once brought to Santander, the merchants, most of whom were members of the ports’ small business fraternity, then proceeded to charter a vessel, or a certain proportion of its cargo capacity and then contract its owner/captain to sail to certain destination(s) to sell or deliver its cargo (Echeverría Alonso, 1995). Fish, strangely, were also perennial imports to this magnificent ria. This apparent paradox may relate to the failure of the merchants of Santander to rupture the stranglehold held by their rivals at Bilbao, on that most lucrative of all trades, namely bacalao [cod]. Much of its trade relied on the arrival of bacalao landed at Bilbao. Effectively, Bilbao acted as a key focus for the trade out of Santander. It acted as its financial centre and its merchants in the seventeenth century controlled most of the trades. It supplied fish, small amounts of iron, textiles, finance and expertise to its smaller sister port and her dependencies to the west.

Figure 10.2

Origins of wood exported from Santander during the seventeenth century. Data from Goodman, 1997

236

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Reorientation and growth, c.1750 to c.1900 First and foremost, the initial relaxation of the colonial trading monopoly in the 1760s set off a new conjuncture. Second, the decision to revive the wool trade from Castile and channel it through the port of Santander animated commerce. Third, the implementation of a plan to construct a much improved road linking Santander to the Meseta, via Reinosa, provided a conduit for the movements of an amplified range of goods outwards and connected Santander to a wider ambit of settlements to the south (Madrazo, 1984). Together these initiatives had the effect of resuscitating Santander and transforming it commercially and physically, though not to the extent of substituting its raison d’étre. It remained as an entrepôt, redistributing goods produced in other regions. Nevertheless, a plethora of new plans produced for enhancing the port, especially in the hundred years after 1788, are indicative of the perceptions from within of the needs to adapt to accommodate the new opportunities and their attendant pressures. The definitive rupture of Cádiz’s monopoly endowed ports such as Santander with startling new trading opportunities and finally sundered its subordinate relationship with Burgos. This happened as a consequence of the establishment in 1785 of an independent Consulado and the initiation of new trading contacts with other parts of Castile connected with the evolution of trade in grain (Maza Solano, 1959). Even worse fortune was to befall Burgos as, in 1787, responsibility for the management of the new road fell within the orbit of the new Consulado at Santander. Almost anticipating these changes, civil government at Santander embarked on an initially piecemeal programme of port and urban enhancement projects, thus laying the foundations for the settlement to emerge as a major port. These improvements commenced in 1758 and later involved the removal of the walls, the extension of the piers, the provision of street paving and lighting and improvements in the supply of water (Simón Cabarga, 1979). Other complementary roles were allocated to Santander. In 1754, it was declared the seat of a new independent diocese and during the following year, the bestowal of the rank of ‘city’ was confirmed and some years later it had acquired it’s very own Consulado (Martínez Vara, 1983). All of these developments set the stage for Cantabria to emerge subsequently as a province in its own right.

The road to Reinosa Santander and Cantabria had been effectively isolated from Castile because of the absence of an adequate all weather link. The construction of this vital connection proved to be one of the most radical engines responsible for change in both regions. The road was under construction precisely when the Catastro del Marques de Ensenada was being executed (Camarero Bullón, 1991). Obviously projects of such scale and vision were years in the making and coincidence was by no means accidental. As one contemporary noted, such a new road would allow sugar to be carried inland and wheat to flow to the coast. There were many bridges to be crossed before such an audacious and controversial undertaking could be executed (Casado Soto, 1980). Different stakeholders held resolute notions concerning the probity of such an endeavour. It was the realisation of a dream for the then subservient and weak commercial interests of Santander and supported too by the flagging merchants of Burgos, who wanted to reinvent their previous ‘Golden Age’. More significantly, a link between Castile and the sea was the goal of a new breed of ambitious merchants from other parts of that region who were more interested in making money than reinventing themselves by reclaiming lost glories. At centre stage, at Madrid, it was a scheme much favoured by enlightened ministers such as the famous instigator of the Catastro. It was opposed by the resolute activities of the merchants

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of Bilbao and those interests that wished to maintain all the fiscal privileges of the Provincias Exentas. Their closest ally was physical geography: enormous investments of expertise would be required to construct and maintain a road crossing the sierras. It was into this context of contested ambitions, notions of former grandeur and a constituency eager to protect its fiscal prerogatives that a government anxious to spread development, advised by a series of men of vision decisively intervened and provided what was necessary for the building of a road whose completion had regional and national repercussions (Palacio Atard, 1960). The consequences of the construction of this new lifeline into Castile were by no means as expected (Ringrose, 1972). Santander boomed, while Burgos experienced further economic decline. The wool constituency lost out to the grain fraction. Wheat became the most valuable commodity to move to the sea and it was the villages, towns and cities of western Castile that prospered most from this traffic. The collapse in 1773 of the Burgos-based, Real Compañía de San Carlos, which fostered woollen enterprises, mirrored the overall failure of the wool constituency and its capital to reassert themselves. The making of this road produced a seismic shift in regional specialisation within Castile. It facilitated the emergence of a new caste of merchants, the so-called harinocratas – ‘wheatocrats’. It spurred off intensification of agricultural specialisation in areas such as Tierra de Campos. It also provided the wines of the Duero, the Ebro valleys and those of Navarra with an outlet to the Atlantic (Huetz des Lemps, 1967; Martínez Vara, 1983). Initiatives like these were essentially animated by state policies that created conditions to encourage the formation of new economic power blocks with marked spatial flavours. It also facilitated the convergence of interests between the Castilian grain producers, the region’s larger landowners, the grain millers, the carriers, the merchants and the shippers of Santander (Tortella Casares, 1975). It was a durable alliance propelling and underwriting long-term prosperity at Santander. It opened up immense opportunities for ports such as Santander and assisted in the expansion of its hinterland. These policies encouraged production, such as the construction of boats, the foundation of breweries and the establishment and expansion of settlements dependent on grain mills. The new economy that sustained Santander was highly specialised: more importantly, Santander was merely a bridgehead that bound a more extensive hinterland and foreland together.

A new political economy The dismantling of the monopoly held by Cádiz, as we have seen, gave Santander the opportunity to participate in trade with the New World and to carve out for itself a specific genre of commerce that has been labelled mercantile-colonial. Powerful enlightened interests after years of effort finally persuaded crown and government to abandon the confines of restriction and the decree of 1765 finally allowed seven other ports and Santander to trade with several parts of the New World. By 1778, the number of ‘open’ external ports had been further augmented. Bilbao excluded for some time from this dispensation saw many of its canny merchants move to Santander, following the example of their colleagues who had previously gone to Cádiz. The realities of this new political economy, which had freed up trade were institutionalised by the foundation of Santander’s own Consulado in 1785. The transfers to it of certain competencies allowed it to discharge its responsibilities more efficiently. Over these years, it is feasible to recognise three well-defined trade cycles: up to the 1750s there was a protracted era of low-intensity interregional trade; then a transitional phase ensued, in which international trading became more prominent, and from at least the 1830s, a mature phase that combined interregional, inter-European and international trade can be recognised.

238

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

The balancing of trading relationships between coast and interior in Spain in the second half of the nineteenth century was complex. Madrid and some of the other large inland settlements relied on the coastal ports for some items, particularly cereals in times of scarcity or low prices (Ringrose, 1970). Another feature of this economy in the eighteenth century, according to Fontana, was that more than half of the exports were in fact re-exports. The immediate hinterland of Santander, namely La Montaña, benefited little from Santander’s success except that many of its mainly subsistence farmers became pluriactivists by engaging in artisanal activities; many were porters or even acted as fishermen (Maiso González, 1990). Wheat, however, was the main crop produced in Castile and there were still major grain deficits in the attenuating Spanish colonial empire during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Sugar and other cash crops took precedence over grain production overseas and a neat synergy developed between the colonies and their imperial core, leading to a growing exchange of these commodities. Wheat also was dispatched from the newly independent United States – which itself was for a time a major market – it quickly became a serious competitor (Barreda y Ferrer de la Vega, 1950). However, protective tariffs soon acted to copper-fasten the Spanish interest. Other grains such as barley and rye came too; in terms of volume, it was wheat from Castile that topped the league. It was not all plain sailing. There were years when harvests failed and Santander would have faced ruin had it depended exclusively on wheat exports. While millers may have prospered in the good years, the smaller growers derived few benefits and it did not unleash a new Golden Age in Castile. Flour too was exported and cereals were imported, to honour orders from abroad in years of scarcity (see Figure 10.3). In this way, the mill wheels were kept in motion. In the

Figure 10.3

Exports of flour and wheat from Santander, 1746–1892. Adapted from Terán, 1974

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more marginal areas of La Montaña, coopering and wood production were expanded to furnish the barrels required for the transport of cereals, thereby diversifying pluriactive pursuits. The new road via Reinosa served as the key conduit for movement of grains; near it were abundant wood supplies and water power for milling in an area that previously had been a backwater (Aedo, 1990). The growing importance of wheat led to further commercialisation as seen in the establishment of several breweries and the not insignificant quantities of beer exported, especially to the colonies.

Revival of wool exports Significant quantities of wool were exported from Santander during the 1770s. Most headed to its traditional customers in England, France and Holland. Wool and grain exports were the bedrock of the nationally produced commodities of Santander’s late eighteenth-century trading conjuncture. Both of these items were sourced outside La Montaña. Wool remained a product dispatched to traditional European markets; grain exports were an innovation and they were a cardinal component of the newly opened colonial trade that also involved leathers and wines (Huetz de Lemps, 1967). By 1789, goods could be shipped to any part of the colonies. La Montaña’s 25 odd foundries sent out iron products to other parts of Spain, to the colonies and to England. Basque iron products often accompanied them. Moderate quantities of rope and rigging went to the same destinations. Later in the century, goods produced in Castile were well finished and were often quite sophisticated. Coming in from Santander’s foreland, chiefly Cuba and the Antilles and from as far afield as Columbia and Peru, were colonial goods including sugar, dyes, cocoa, bullion, spices, medicinal herbs and exotic timber (Martínez Vara, 1983). Initially, Havana acted as the external colonial focus for Santander; the network of partner ports steadily amplified to include Buenos Aires, Cartagena and Campeche with Montevideo becoming a secondary hub. A comprehensive analysis of the trade between Veracruz and Santander permits a better understanding of its scale (see Table 10.1). This research, taken in conjunction with a novel interpretation of some exciting documents, pinpoints precisely some of the leading features of the trade in the first years of the 1790s (Martínez Vara, 1983). The colonial trading framework that evolved at Santander was little more than an exchange of primary materials and the monetary balance was three to one to the advantage of the colonies. This situation largely tilted in their favour in as much as a third of the value of their exports derived from bullion and a further half came from colonial perishables. The Correo Mercantil de España y sus Indias for 11 August 1793 established that in 1793 the value of all imports totalled to a massive 30 million reales de vellón; exports leaving Spain were worth 25 million reales. Coming from Europe, England and Holland and to a lesser extent France were supplies of iron products, grains, fish – especially cod – hardware and, critically, textiles and linens. Most of the goods arriving from European destinations went inland to the cities and towns of the Meseta; a respectable segment was re-exported to the colonies. A much more significant proportion of the incoming colonial goods were re-exported. Most went on to Denmark, England, France, Germany, Holland, Sweden and even the United States. The volume and value of European re-exports from Santander gradually and progressively declined at the end of the century and were replaced by goods originating in the Meseta. That was the high water-mark. War, the loss of many colonies, the disruption of trading networks and internal social conflicts rapidly eroded, but did not entirely remove, all the conditions that had favoured Santander’s prosperity. This kind of trading structure persisted into the late 1790s, albeit at lower intensities. Given the extraordinary growth experienced by Santander, it might have been expected that the downstream consequences should be felt in its immediate hinterland – La Montaña. Ingrained

240

Table 10.1

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Exports from Santander to Veracruz, 1785–95 (reales de vellón) Years

Spanish goods

Foreign goods

Total value

1785 1786 1787 1788 1789 1790 1791 1792 1793 1794 1795

913,607 387,366 562,947 1,412,862 1,957,120 1,257,389 3,745,095 941,487 775,743

1,649,496 1,456,254 499,733 475,649 1,356,150 1,546,843 2,822,969 560,631 465,850

2,563,103 1,843,620 1,062,680 1,888,511 3,313,270 2,804,232 6,568,064 1,502,118 1,241,593

Source: Ortiz de la Tabla y Ducasse, 1978

tenurial practices and a tenantry without capital, virtually imprisoned on their small holdings were effectively sealed-off from contiguous parishes, let alone their comarca, which precluded most from exploiting the new contextualisation of Santander (Maruri Villanueva, 1990; Ortega Valcárcel, 1986). The newly constructed road converted Reinosa itself into a major storage depot and milling centre (Martínez Vara, 1983). In effect, it was as if the goods were flown from Santander to the Meseta, so insignificant were the effects of the boom on rural Cantabria (Maiso González, 1990). By the time this phase of commercial expansion was truncated by Napoleonic hostilities, Santander was responsible for some 6 per cent of the total of national colonial commerce. It was a trade full of contradictions, not only for the Spanish economy, but also for Santander. In spite of its more favourable potential as a regional animator, Santander was not unlike Cádiz. For many years, only a small fraction of its exports were of either national or regional origin (see Table 10.2). Table 10.2

Trade from the port of Santander, 1795–1804

Years

Imports

Per cent

Exports

Per cent

Total

1795 1796 1797 1798 1799 1800 1801 1802 1803 1804

16,218,902 29,177,785 8,838,660 11,964,348 87,480,567 12,943,087 14,294,170 117,929,486 94,624,800 86,176,800

57.8 59.3 46.0 67.0 85.6 45.9 58.3 67.0 73.3 74.5

11,793,994 19,956,785 10,350,819 5,888,454 14,612,889 15,245,884 10,190,646 57,924,648 33,448,080 29,416,400

42.2 40.7 24.0 33.0 14.4 24.1 41.7 33.0 26.2 25.5

28,012,896 49,134,569 19,189,479 17,852,802 102,093,456 28,188,927 24,484,846 175,854,184 128,072,880 115,593,200

Source: Martínez Vara, 1983

It had emerged as a classic colonial hub dependent on supply and demand factors totally outside the ambit of its influence, let alone control. This trading structure was, for a time, a source of great

241

Santander: Wheat and Wool Emporium

prosperity for some, so much so that merchants especially from other ports in northern Atlantic Iberia, Bilbao in particular, flocked to Santander. War and its all-attendant repercussions wiped out most of the port’s recent achievements. By 1796, the volume of goods leaving the port had fallen to less than 50 per cent of what it was four years earlier. In troubled times there were better years; overall the port’s import/export activities had declined almost to a third of what they were in the early 1790s (Martínez Vara, 1983) (see Table 10.3). Table 10.3 Ports

Value of trade with American colonies, 1778–93 (reales de vellón) Spanish goods

Colonial goods

Total goods

Total value

Cádiz Barcelona La Coruña Santander Málaga Tenerife Alicante

13,308,062 6,531,635 2,787,671 765,155 3,425,504 1,206,621 211,969

36,901,040 2,100,526 2,673,056 3,992,295 519,085 – 92,340

50,209,102 8,632,161 5,460,727 4,757,451 3,944,589 1,206,621 304,309

34,210,285 4,308,551 27,333,131 4,594,099 989,829 1,726,568 1,195,827

Total

28,236,617

46,278,342

74,514,960

74,358,290

Source: Martínez Vara, 1983

In spite of all the perturbations in the system, one factor remained constant and that was the durable coincidence of interests between the merchants and shippers of Santander and the wheat exporters, millers and also the brewers of Castile. More peaceful times, innovative legislation controlling the importation and distribution of cereals, technical advances facilitating higher levels of production and a shift in attitudes amongst many producers favouring the sale of their products at markets were amongst a cocktail of changes that saw Spain move from being a frequent deficit cereal producer to a country of more stable surplus production, even if the surpluses were regionally specific (Sánchez Albornoz, 1963). These new conditions, dating to the end of the first quarter of the nineteenth century, provided foundations for Santander to embark on a reinvigorated phase of wheat exports, with all the concomitant physical and social changes that entailed. By the mid-1820s, this trade of grain and flour with Santander as its lynchpin took a resolute ascendant curve and, as ever, colonial staples made up the prime ingredients of trade. Inward and later onward over the sierras came and went food products such as rice, olives, iron in various finished forms and textiles mainly from Catalonia. Of all of them, sugar was again the key; variations in the quantities being landed at Santander were related to volumes of wheat leaving. Cuba, the last jewel of the empire, was the favoured source because of fiscal policies. In the 1870s, the value of sugar imported represented nearly a third of the total worth of all other imports. American trade slowly revived both to and from colonial remnants in the Caribbean and newly independent states. The rulers may have changed; in both areas merchants networks were still in place (Jiménez Cordinach, 1991). To these areas went Basque iron, Castilian cereals and Catalan textiles; food products, led by sugar, went in the opposite direction (see Table 10.4). Using data from La Gaceta de Madrid, Martínez Vara (1983) has amply confirmed the explosive growth – in the order of 400 per cent plus in the 20-year period after 1825 – in the volumes of cereals and flour sent out of Santander. This turnaround began in the early 1820s; it really took off at the end of that decade. Demand from dramatically growing urban Cataluña and Valencia and cereal-deficient Andalusia stimulated the revival. The milling sector was re-kindled too in

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Table 10.4

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Colonial goods dispatched from Santander to the rest of Spain, 1843–48 (arrobas) Goods Sugar Cocoa Cod Cinnamon Pepper and cloves Aguardiente Pelts Dyes Quincalla Coffee Tools

Total arrobas 2,403,383 446,096 769,484 5,127 6,717 19,633 68,956 140,136 21,271 14,692 21,521

Source: Martínez Vara, 1983 La Montaña. Most of the mills were new and technologically advanced as the scale of the recent decline had totally undermined the older facilities. Protective legislation provided the required degree of shelter for this two-way trade to prosper and it extended to the interdiction of the usage of foreign ships as carriers. This latter instrument had the early consequence of reducing trade to Cuba. It ultimately led to the explosive growth in the number of boats registered at Santander and the resuscitation of ship-building at Guarnizo. In 1845, the local fleet consisted of sixty fragatas and bergantines with a dead weight of nearly 10,000 tons and some 800 seamen to man them (Terán, 1947). A local publication, El Despertador Montañes, noted that in 1803 some 280 boats loaded with wheat sailed out of Santander; the corresponding figure for 1877 was slightly less than 3,000 boats. Santander had effectively cornered for itself a monopoly of the Antillean wheat trade. Perhaps the most succinct barometer of the vitality of these transactions and the renewed prosperity of Castile was the condition of the sugar trade, which had grown from strength to strength (see Table 10.5). A coalition of merchants from Santander and producers from Castile were bestowed with the sobriquet harinocracia [flourocracy] in recognition of their central role that subsequently extended to the foundation of mills, lobbying the state to conduct public works such as La Canal Imperial de Castilla (1849) and the establishment of trading companies and banks, including the Bank of Santander, and also investing in railways (Simón Cabarga, 1979). Circumstances were more than benign to this coalition of interests and, taken with a protracted favourable external climate, the surge in wheat exports continued into the 1870s making the duration of this phase of expansion extend over nearly 50 years. Even over this period, there were sharply defined crests and troughs in the quantities of cereals leaving the port and staggering variations in volumes dispatched to different destinations were all too evident. The meteoric growth of tolls earned by the port over the period is further confirmation of this expansion (see Table 10.6). In spite of the prosperity and the confidence and optimism reflected in local and regional publications, little concrete progress had been attained as late as the 1870s in achieving sustained improvements in the number and capacity of the land routes that linked Santander to its major supply zones. Long before the completion of the Reinosa road, there was a clear recognition that Santander’s advantage was intimately linked to the presence of all weather overland connections with the wheatlands of Castile and the vineyards of La Rioja and the Duero. Santander’s Consulado had managed to improve sections of these routes (Izquierdo, 1986). It lost its responsibilities

Santander: Wheat and Wool Emporium

Table 10.5

Sugar imports to Santander, 1828–32 and 1844–48 Years

Arrobas

1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848

215,938½ 252,732 624,244 358,387 209,348 515,071 421,917 488,529 486,751 678,790

Source: Terán, 1947

Table 10.6

Tolls collected at the Port of Santander, 1846–68 Years

Reales de Vellón

1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868

13,708,873 15,413,770 12,812,283 12,266,562 19,283,187 17,921,019 23,297,840 20,081,434 18,195,123 18,404,726 19,386,307 19,372,000 25,488,561 15,196,090 21,987,695 25,331,314 27,154,122 26,848,226 26,848,226 16,974,287 16,019,891 17,493,797 20,544,740

Sources: Despertador Montañés, 1852–78; Martínez Vara, 1983

243

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

for roads in 1805, when this role was transferred to the Dirección General de Correos (Maza Solana, 1959). For more than 50 years after that date, they were to serve as the prime arteries of communications (Junta del Puerto, 1985). The volume of movement is highlighted by the fact that in 1853 some 108,000 carts arrived at Santander, carrying mainly grains and to a lesser extent barrels of wine. A railway line linking Santander to Castile was finally completed in 1866. It was initially designed to be a spur of the Canal de Castilla and it was envisaged that it would act to accelerate progress along its course and more critically to work as a dynamo of regional transformation on the northern Meseta. The absence of a plan to build feeder roads to the line along its course, high costs of construction, protracted delays in laying it out and high tariffs that the rail company at times was itself obliged to impose led to a swing back to traditional forms of road transport. The fact that the line of the then Ferrocarril de Alar was narrow gauge was a further impediment to the economics of bulk transport. Poor maintenance in its early years, against a background of severe technical difficulties posed by climate and terrain, meant that the railway was unable to carry the quantities of grain that its backers claimed it could. This eroded confidence in it as an instrument that was supposed to provide a remedy for almost every ill. Simply too much was expected of it. Paradoxically, in spite of the perceived advantages for Santander, it was the railways, as will be later confirmed, that were signally to contribute to its undoing before the end of the century. Nevertheless, the scale of grain exports over a prolonged period was most impressive. These movements no doubt oiled demands for the immense quantities of incoming goods. Martínez Vara (1983) reports that in the year 1861 – it was one of the outstanding years – custom receipts show the inward movement of the following: 2,783 quintales of yarn; nearly 50,000 machines; 571 quintales of linen garments; 727,667 varas of woollen fabrics; 95,226 libras of silk fabrics; 249,212 libras of sewn cotton; 70,000 libras of mixed fabrics; 9,171 libras of buttons; 271 quintales of steel and 235 quintales of wire. Sugar and cocoa were the most valuable incoming goods (see Table 10.5 above). In the late 1840s, over 100,000 arrobas of cacao were imported annually and in the 1870s, more than a half a million arrobas of sugar was landed before being sent onwards by land or by sea. An annual state statistical abstract for 1861 confirms that almost a million and a half quintales of goods were shipped out of Santander, 90 per cent of which originated on the peninsula and most consisted of cereals or flour. The lion’s share of these goods went to the Antilles and very significant quantities were dispatched to Spanish Levantine ports. Less than 10 per cent of the goods total leaving were redistributed colonial goods. In the decades around mid-century, iron ores and other mineral ores were also a noteworthy export; most came from La Montaña. The statistical abstract mentioned above confirms that in 1861, Santander’s 47 mines produced 85,000 metric quintales of iron ore and 180,000 of zinc ore. Most were exported, the iron mainly to England and the zinc went to Amsterdam. This ore trade was ephemeral; the works were too small and few could keep pace with technological progress. Also, many of the deposits were not extensive enough so this trade petered out in the 1870s. Failure to sustain supplies of wood and charcoal and competition from the more advanced and adjacent Basque regions quickly eroded the vitality of the mineral sector. Food provisions, at the height of the grain trade successes, were sometimes dispatched to the New World. Most came from La Montaña; collectively they rarely represented more than a minute fraction of the total volume and value of the outward trade, which was dominated by cereals. The few artisanal production units in the province did not adapt or prosper. Founded upon the state’s protective mantle for wheat and colonial goods, the recipe for Santander’s impressive achievements in the nineteenth century had not changed. The absence of a drive to modernise rural Cantabria was reinforced by the lack of interest in any kind of investment in farming from amongst those who had

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prospered most. For those who had surplus funds, railways, big houses and even hotels at fashionable Sardiñeiro were more attractive propositions. The immediate rural world fell further behind. It was not all doom and gloom. The sierra’s streams provided copious water to promote the revival of milling on a large scale from the 1840s onwards. In 1845, there were 26 mills producing flour and in 1874 there were only two fewer; many were large and some 130 mill wheels were capable of producing daily some 8,000 fanegas of flour. The revival of shipbuilding, as has already been noted, was another success story. It was short lived and the closure of the arms factory at La Cavada in the 1840s presaged the ultimate fate of the shipyard that closed in 1870. Its location is still recalled at the Ría del Astillero (see Figure 10.1). Outside these activities and the demands that the storage and transport required, Santander’s connections with its immediate hinterland remained tenuous. Custom receipts reveal the export of locally produced provisions; the quantities were small and the frequency of exports episodic. Mineral extraction also did not evolve into any form of large-scale local processing. Some manufacturing was active in units producing textiles, glass, beer, candles and soap. Nearly 1,000 people were employed in the 1860s in a tobacco factory. The fact that the vast bulk of the output of these facilities left the region reinforces the picture of Santander as a kind of enclave. Thousands of people must have been involved in the storage, distribution and transport of the enormous volumes of goods that moved in and out of the port. In 1853, more than 100,000 carts arrived there and most of the drivers were reported to be part-timers (Terán, 1947).

Early morphological legacies The original settlement nucleus emerged near a small collegiate church. The completion of this building phase witnessed the emergence of several convents, the evolution of a new district – La Puebla Nueva and the erection of a defensive wall collectively personifying the settlement’s newly acquired status. By the early twelfth century, the existence of a number of parallel streets trending east to west can be deduced from early documentation (see Figure 10.4). By following the contours, street layouts could avoid steep gradients. For this reason, many of the dozen-odd back-to-back streets belonging to the two small nuclei had the appearance of being planned. Soon after, this area was walled and with its nine gates it enclosed c.90,000 square metres (Arizaga Bolumburu y Fernández González, 1998). A redoubt, known as Castillo de San Felipe was its defensive centrepiece. Two towers at the entrance to the ria, where chains could be employed to secure the entrance and a series of impressive tower-houses completed the defence ensemble. Santander, then, it must be stressed, was regarded as the paramount obstacle for any seaborne invasion of Castile. Consequently, its defences had much more than regional significance (Camara Muñoz, 1998). No wonder that some of Spain’s most noteworthy defence specialists were involved in addressing the general deficiencies in the fortifications of the port towards the end of the sixteenth century. One of the results of their attentions was the erection of the monumental Castillo de San Martín at the entry to the ria (Aramburu Zabala and Alonso Ruiz, 1994). These costly investments acknowledged Santander’s growing naval prominence, as from 1572 it acted as the marshalling centre for a series of major armadas (Casado Soto, 1979–80). The early phases of Santander’s development, that is up to c.1400, are summarised in Figure 10.4 above. Contemporary sources indicate that most of the houses were two-storey buildings. Living quarters were upstairs. The street-level floor was dedicated to the line of work of the household and acted usually a workshop. It also often included housing for domestic animals and a store for farm or fishing implements, food and animal feed. Built of a mixture of wood and stone, most houses were tiled. Essentially, the designs of these kinds of houses were predicated

246

Figure 10.4

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Santander, c.1582. Source: Martínez Vara, 1983; VV.AA., 1998

on rural prototypes (Arizaga Bolumburu y Fernández González, 1998). Stone-built tower-houses were generally the abodes of the wealthier merchant families and gradually these residences began to take on decorative features, as they shed their defensive ones. Most had a very limited street frontage; this was compensated for by the fact that they possessed spacious, if narrow, backs, often used for domestic food production. Diverse, if patchy, local documentary evidence, confirms that the dockyards [ataranzas] were already functioning in 1396 (Simón Cabarga, 1985). Considerable functional specialisation was already evident within the port area, where there was a well-defined fishing quarter. There was a neighbourhood dedicated to the warehousing and despatching of wool, and defences protected even its crude quays. Outside the walls were recently built quays and docks, and here, too, was a breakwater. The designs and building techniques employed to erect some of these defences and quays were extremely advanced for their time (Guillerm, 1985). It is likely that trade with the Low Countries in particular had other important spin-offs, not least in relation to the diffusion of ideas relating to the design and elaboration of port infrastructures such as quays, docks, dykes, breakwaters, canals and shipyards and even more critically defences (Cámara Muñoz, 1998). The famous view of Santander prepared by Hoefnagel c.1582 indicates that it was a wellprotected small port (see Plate 15). This view of a well-fortified port with limited capacity for ships reflects the then received wisdom relating to port design: adequate protection for ships was paramount; capacity for ships was usually subordinate to that requirement (Aramburu Zabala and Alonso Ruiz, 1994). Coastal defences against turbulent weather were also a pre-eminent feature of port design on the Atlantic littoral of Iberia in the sixteenth century (Cámara Muñoz, 1998). Population change at Santander from the thirteenth to the seventeenth centuries was characterised by extreme volatility. When the Catastro del Marques de Ensenada was being conducted in 1753 Santander’s fortunes were at a turning point. At that time it was still small with all the demographic eccentricities of a stagnant seventeenth century port. It has been trenchantly asserted that before 1787, no reliable data exist to allow a precise estimation of the population (Martínez Vara, 1983).

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Nevertheless, public health problems and the port’s loss of vitality may account for repeated minor declines in numbers up to the middle of the eighteenth century. The mid-century Respuestas Generales confirm only 680 vecinos, while a padrón of 1752 tallies only 499 vecinos and 116 widows. Using an appropriate multiplier for the 680 figure gives us 2,211 residents. Despite the contradictory counts, most researchers agree that the population of Santander began to rise steadily and by 1768 it had doubled, largely because of high rates of in-migration. Post1750, there was a noticeable change in the employment structure. Comparing the results of the 1753 Catastro with a local padrón of 1829, those in the primary sector had dropped from 41 to 30 per cent; increases recorded in the secondary and tertiary sectors were from 19 to 23 per cent and 40 to 47 per cent respectively. By the century’s end, the population had tripled, and by 1856, it was just below 20,000; growth had not been continuous especially during the Napoleonic years. In spite of problems that afflicted the then traditional activities of the port from the last quarter of the of the nineteenth century, the population continued to grow as a result of return migration from overseas and rural-to-urban migration and it reached a crest of c.60,000 by c.1900. These returnees, known as Indianos often invested in housing and hotels, in manufacturing enterprises and in the railways, and several were generous philanthropists (O’Flanagan, 1996). There was a considerable coincidence between the trading vicissitudes of the port and the settlement’s demographic performance between the 1750s and the 1870s. This convergence effectively related to the heyday of the wheat/sugar colonial interchange finally came to an abrupt conclusion with the loss of the remaining colonies. The painting and decoration of private and public buildings was a further testament to a town’s growing prestige. ‘Golden Age’ Spain had two distinctive classes of decorative patrons: holders of prominent public offices and those who held senior clerical positions made a distinctive group; rich merchants formed the other group. Because Santander had become a major naval base, it attracted a number of major state functions. It discharged the following functions through its Pagaduría [treasury], a Procuraduría [attorney’s office], a Veeduría [inspector’s office] and a Proveedor General de las Armadas del Mar Océano. Their officers together with the local elites contracted well-known painters and sculptors to embellish many buildings. They also acted as patrons for the erection of a portfolio of churches, convents and monasteries, many of which occupied salient positions in the settlement, such as the Convent of San Francisco. Santander in the early seventeenth century was effectively an inner Atlantic port town dominated and dependent on the redistribution of one key product coming from Castile – wool (Bilbao Bilbao and Fernández Piñedo, 1986). Surprisingly, Cantabria was, at times, a food-deficit producing zone, as revealed in the significant volumes of food imports through Santander. Outgoing products of its immediate provincial hinterland were essentially low-value, high-volume raw materials, principally wood. Evidence confirms that in relation to certain trades such as cod, Santander acted as a major secondary relay port for Bilbao. The dramatic fall-off in the wool trade in the second half of the century left such a void that most maritime enterprises at the end of the century were a shadow of what they had been. Its naval and manufacturing functions remained significant; they depended, to a large extent, on state patronage and were thus only animated in short bursts of activity. Essentially, the boats registering Santander as their home port were always a small minority – indeed, most that entered its port from elsewhere, except those engaged in the wool trade, were modest in size. Exceptions were infrequent; the galeón of its leading merchant, Fernando de la Riva Herrera, made voyages that linked Santander with the Canary Islands, the West Indies, Seville, the Canaries again, then Angola and finally Brazil (Echeverría Alonso, 1995). Another telling dimension of Santander’s weakness as a port is evident in its failure to have seized the opportunity to head the regional hierarchy of ports. It did act as leading centre for the redistribution of salt. Other than that, its relationships with the other ports of the province and even beyond in Asturias

248

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

were weak. Santander accounted for about 50 per cent of all of Cantabria’s maritime trade in the 1720s (Zabala Uriarte, 1983). Bilbao was the source of most of the goods entering the port, including colonial re-exports and cereals then felicitously called pan de la mar (Maruri Villanueva, 1990). The proceedings of the local council for the period reveal that it was caught in some kind of time warp. Santander’s dependence on the Consulado de Burgos was, in a large measure, responsible for its prolonged commercial indolence. No major port modifications were even contemplated by the civic authorities. What was achieved were simply repairs and damage limitation to its existing meagre docks and quays. The preceding century’s more audacious plans for the port were a distant memory. There are constant allusions in the minutes of the cabildo to economic stagnation, unemployment, misery and the loss of population. Even before the wool trade diminished, a report in 1639 referred to ‘intense poverty’ and the population had fallen to an unacceptable figure of less than 1,000 residents, many of whom were naval personnel (Aranburu-Zabala y Alonso Ruiz, 1994). Santander for most of the second half of the seventeenth century was effectively a port without a vocation. Subsistence farming, a church that leached surplus wealth, and political dependence on Burgos and Madrid meant that Santander and La Montaña could not be easily freed from these ingrained obstacles to change. In this way, the transformation of Santander from the latter half of the eighteenth century, is a classic example of how exogenous influences stemming from a revised political economy created new possibilities in a context of prolonged stagnation.

Port and town during the wheat and colonial trading boom Little had changed to its physical outline in the century since Zuyer drew his impressionistic outline of the small port-town in 1660. Santander had the appearance of a neat minute spiders’ web, surrounded by its walls except at the entry to its harbour. The harbour crudely divided the settlement into upper and lower sectors joined together by a small bridge (see Figure 10.4). The ancient upper core remained for some time the locale for the traditional elements of society including fishermen and sailors. This was La Puebla Vieja, which had acted as the administrative, religious and social focus and it is clearly shown on the 1763 and 1765 maps (Autoridad Portuaria de Santander, 1998). Here were located some of the finest buildings, such as the cathedral and the principal castle (see Figure 10.4). As the town expanded and became more prosperous, conditions in this zone slowly disimproved. Immediately to the south, within the walls, was La Puebla Nueva. It was the town’s dynamo; here lived a majority of the merchants, professionals and artisans and it was far less cramped than elsewhere (see Figure 10.4). It is feasible to recognise the social groups associated with these areas through a careful analysis of an incomplete local 1710 vecindario. This confirms that slightly more than 50 per cent of heads of households lived in La Puebla Nueva. In the extra-mural suburbs were some 43 per cent of the population, the vast majority of whom were unskilled. Only a minute number lived in the oldest sector. It is evident that most of the elites, recognisable by the appellation, Don, lived in and around the main arteries of La Puebla Nueva and its plaza mayor. Sited here were the town hall, as well as a church, a famous town house and several inns. Evidence from the 1753 Catastro shows that little change in social housing dispositions had transpired since the early part of the century (see Figure 10.5). The settlement gradually expanded along the shore outside the walls and those social groups associated with its ‘take-off’ moved in, especially its trading fraternity. The 1760s was in effect, the pivotal decade. An excellent plan by Lloverts, patronised by the state, provided a scheme for Santander’s morphology to adapt to its rapidly changing economic circumstances (Autoridad Portuaria de Santander, 1998, p. 73). It was also a template for harbour and quay modification

Santander: Wheat and Wool Emporium

Figure 10.5

249

Santander, c.1750. Source: Maruri Villanueva, 1990, p. 81

so that larger ships could berth with ease. A section of the walls was removed in 1763, some years after a fire had razed much of La Calle del Mar and a new pier was constructed mainly to accommodate the expected surge in wool exports. Behind it a new street, La Riviera, was built and a second smaller dock was added. It was not fully implemented due to lack of funds; its unrealised goals were revived in the 1791 plan of Colosia (Autoridad Portuaría de Santander, 1998). Property price rises also signified the growing commodification of urban land and the emergence of a rentier class (Capel, 1983). There was also a growing realisation amongst the merchants, especially those from institutions governing towns, that future structural changes would have to be planned or, at least, controlled (Meer Lecha-Marzo and Ortega Valcárcel, 1985). The excellent series of eighteenth-century maps and plans of Santander are a testament to the sharpening of these kinds of concerns. Of especial value are those of c.1730 and 1763, Llovet’s plans for 1765, 1766 and 1769; Escofet’s and Ulloa’s plan for 1780; Colosia’s for 1791 and for the next century that of Madoz for 1861 and finally that of Rozas’s for 1865 (Autoridad Portuaría de Santander, 1998). Not coincidentally, some of the most detailed plans were prepared at mid-century when the settlement was embarking on a period of profound structural change (Pozueta Echvarri, 1984). Up to the end of the eighteenth century, most of Santander’s population still resided within what was the walled area (see Figure 10.6). For most sections of society, this led to intense crowding and a general deterioration in the living conditions. Municipal records show that in 1792, some 55 per cent of Santander’s residents were owner-occupiers and a further 30 per cent were renting. These data also establish that traditional rentier fractions such as the church and nobility had been joined by more than a score of merchants to form an expanded rentier group. As foreseen in Colosia’s plan, a plaza nueva had been constructed in the reclaimed sector to the west. Called La Nueva Población, it was mainly the residence of successful merchants. It was in essence a late eighteenth century ensanche or urban extension; here members of the rentier and trading fractions resided (Capel, 1975). After all, these were people who could afford the inflated prices demanded for these properties.

250

Figure 10.6

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Santander, c.1801. Source: Coello, 1861

In the early years of the next century, an Alameda was carved out to the west. Near it lived many of those associated with commerce and also artisans such as coopers and turners (see Figure 10.6). Simultaneously, on the eastern side and again along the water’s edge, there was further expansion and this new urban area was mainly populated by people working in the port. Growth occurred transversely in the sense that additional streets developed at right angles to the shore. A second phase of growth occurred in the 1840s, exemplified by the provision of a series of infrastructural improvements including lighting, water supply and waste disposal. In the previous century, received wisdom amongst the city fathers envisaged that the expansion of the settlement would be best achieved by the erection of a regular series of blocks of warehouses-cum-residences where there would be some degree of residential mixing (Maruri Villanueva, 1990). Their putative occupiers thought otherwise; they erected fine neo-classical houses for themselves and everything else remained unfulfilled aspirations.

Merchants and residence The evolution and consolidation of a resident merchant class contributed much to the economic and morphological transformation of Santander. As a result of its commercial decline in the seventeenth century, it could not retain any major merchants (Molas, 1985). However, an analysis of the 1753 Catastro throws some light on the nature of the resident merchants. They are recorded indifferently indicating that most were little more than shopkeepers (Eiras Roel, 1984). The classification of traders into distinctive classes solely on the basis of the annual monetary returns is not tenable in the case of the Catastro. Many owned properties, or held posts of responsibility, and often retained assets outside the urban precinct. In or about 1753, the Catastro reveals that there were sharply different trading elements. Within the town’s 11 leading businesses, it is possible to recognise the presence of a handful of recently

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arrived major international merchants, some of whom had representatives as far afield as the Baltic. One of them was a merchant and ship-owner, an archetype of the class, which helped to propel Santander’s subsequent commercial success. Some of the merchants who came to Santander were tempted by new opportunities; others came, especially in the 1780s, from the Basque area, as its ports still remained interdicted from trading across the Atlantic. The harinocrat was another merchant category that we encountered earlier. Documents from the Consulado mention the presence of hacendados [rich landowners], comerciantes por mayor [wholesalers], mercaderes [merchants] and fabricantes [manufacturers] as recognised traders. In the period c.1775 to 1829, these trading designations experienced some form of transmutation so they cannot be relied upon to furnish a durable, recognisable or stable hierarchy. By 1829, however, it is feasible to discern two principal categories of traders (Maruri Villanueva, 1990). The principal elements and the commercial elite were the comerciantes and mercaderes; corredores [brokers], quinquilleros [hardware vendors], tenderos [shop assistants] and tratantes [dealers] were the minor actors. To illustrate the geographical spread of the operations of one large merchant, an examination of a set of surviving letter books dating 1781–84, shows that Ignacio de Heras had family contacts installed at Veracruz. He helped to manage sailings from there on to La Guaira and Havana. Suppliers from Segovia, Madrid, Seville, Valencia, Amiens, Amsterdam, Hamburg, London, Nantes and St Malo were active in his trading orbits. They received a combination of mainly colonial goods or food staples from Spain. This individual also bought ships, and founded and invested in a marine insurance company whose headquarters were at Cádiz (Maruri Villanueva, 1990).The merchant contribution to the transformation of the city especially to its housing fabric was immense. In 1753, 75 per cent of the merchants lived in La Puebla Nueva. By 1829, most of the major merchants had transferred to La Nueva Población. In effect, the construction of the ensanche of La Nueva Población marked a major turning point in the evolution of Santander (see Figure 10.6). The high costs of building acted as a filter only allowing the richest members of society to reside there. In this way, it became a segregated zone; elsewhere promiscuity in terms of social mixing prevailed. Some of the most appealing aspects of many of Atlantic Iberia’s major port cities are the varied suites of domestic residences often located in specific districts that have survived down to our times. Apart from architectural surveys, little research has focused upon them. Excepting the actual port infrastructures, these residential districts must be their most iconographic features. One can immediately call to mind the cantones of Corunna, the Baixa of Oporto and the plaza fuerte of Cádiz. At Santander, La Nueva Población is intact. Fire destroyed much of La Puebla Vieja in 1941 and consequently few pre-eighteenth century domestic residences have survived. Over the period 1753 to 1829, a number of profound changes in the characteristics of housing at Santander can be recognised. Among the foremost perhaps is a trend towards multi-family residences. The Catastro shows that in 1753, nearly two-thirds of the housing units (716 in total) were occupied by single-family units. The corresponding figure for 1829 is the exact reverse. Higher housing costs, a shortage of dwellings and high rates of positive natural change fuelled this abrupt turnaround. By 1829, there were a significant number of housing units designated as cuartos, which may be crudely regarded as flats, and 222 units were distributed across some 55 buildings (Maruri Villanueva, 1990). They consisted of one main room, two bedrooms and a kitchen. The higher the cuarto, so the general rule was, the poorer were its residents. This, however, was not the case at Santander, where the lowest parts of buildings experienced dampness, poor ventilation and insufficient light. These units were often the residences of the underprivileged. The vast bulk were the homes of the then underclass, especially fishermen, although representatives of every class, except the nobility, lived in them. An impressive range of occupations was evident in the residents of cuartos in La Puebla Vieja. Taking number 8 in the Calle de San Francisco in 1829 as an example: here lived a trader [tratante],

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

a carpenter and a cook (Maruri Villanueva, 1990). By the mid eighteenth century, 31 houses were occupied by traders then described as comerciantes. Some of the richest people resided in large houses with three floors. The emblematic houses of merchants by 1829 were then referred to as a casa-tienda – a house-shop. Most were single-family residences with the living quarters separated, linked to the business cum-workspace. As a rule, these buildings had three stories. The ground floor acted as the business area and as an interface with a public space, frequently a small warehouse and cellar. Above were the domestic quarters and finally a loft or garret. Artisans’ quarters were the same, residence was invariably above the workspace and most had two stories. These casastiendas were already a salient feature of the housing stock by 1753. It is patently evident that these kinds of residences were perfunctory. They had two or three bedrooms, a kitchen, a workroom and another room usually converted into a bedroom. It was exceptional for these residences to boast of more than six rooms. There was a world of difference between the merchant’s casa-tienda and the housing enjoyed by the few noble families. The contrasts between them stress even more the functional nature of the former. First, many noble families occupied a palacio, a designation which conjures up visions of opulence. One of the most famous residences of this type was the palacio of Riva-Herrera sited in the urban core. Ranged around a central patio, it even had its own garden. The residential sector was principally on the ground floor; here a large room was connected to several other smaller ones. There was a reception room with its own bedroom, one smaller chamber, three further bedrooms, one of which was for a servant, a kitchen and toilets and on top an extensive attic (Lastra Villa, 1976). As the prosperity of some merchants blossomed, they were able to afford better housing. Novel house types proposed and designed by Llovert and Colosia to front the new dock within the ensanche, when completed, marked the introduction of new living conditions and a break with the styles of the past. These imposing four-storied residential blocks had much to do with models familiar already in France. The two lower floors were dedicated to the selling and storing of goods. At this time, new occupational roles and titles appear confirming not simply changes in the routines of work and its management, but also architectural responses. People now had the roles of clerks, cashiers, secretaries and storemen, reflecting the new types of workplaces that had emerged to accommodate them. The higher floors were organised as living quarters, but with a major difference. The third or fourth floor was for letting and those remaining served as the residence of whoever owned the building. Housing units were no longer designed for single families; rental culture had now been introduced and several families lived in the same building. In addition, work spaces had been substantially extended as had overall floor space. They were, in a word, elegant, if austere; they were very well-constructed houses that could have proudly fitted in as part of an ensemble of many other booming European port cities of that time. Several of the merchant families who resided in the older sectors of the settlement, could not afford the new more luxurious properties on the wharfs: they had to rehabilitate their traditional casas-tiendas. Important innovations were evident in exterior form and interior designs, and in the composition and diversity of the working personnel associated with these new buildings. Embellishments and even more importantly new furniture and decorations were acquired and the ‘dining room’ made its first recorded appearance in 1803. Its presence signified an important rearrangement of domestic space and it is probably no coincidence that one was incorporated first in the residence of a French resident merchant (Maruri Villanueva, 1990). It also marked a further convergence of Santander’s merchant housing styles towards those in vogue in more northern European port cities. Santander experienced a phase of profound transformation in the post-Catastro period, which lasted until the 1890s. Mutations became visible in the economic, physical and social fabrics of the town, mainly as a consequence of state fiscal policies. Frustrated with the monetary regime associated with the provincias exentas, the state decided to rupture this monopoly by designating

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Santander as the port of Castile. To that end, building a new overland link with the territories inland became a priority. An equally critical dimension of this policy was to animate regional development in Castile by promoting wool and later wheat exports to Europe. Free commerce with America from 1778 acted as a vital additional energising instrument for Santander. It facilitated the appearance of a new invigorated merchant class, physically represented by the eastern ensanche around El Muelle. Henceforth, many of the new merchants diversified their activities by buying boats, investing in manufacturing, founding insurance companies and engaging in short-lived trading alliances (González Echeverría, 1980). The upward mobility in the early decades of the nineteenth century of some of these merchants is attested to by the concession of noble titles to some of them. This hastened the displacement of some of the traditional elites from the organs of the town’s government. It meant that Santander could now boast of having a comparable elite to any major port city of that time. Fired by some of the ideas of the Enlightenment, this successful class of traders deployed institutions such as their Consulado to act as an economic and urban development agency. It was a time of action, optimism and opulence for those who were able to reap the benefits and brave the risks that maritime commerce provided. Santander could claim nearly 55,000 residents in 1900 when its peak of commercial prosperity had just passed: that reckoning still made it by far the most commanding port city in Cantabria (Ortega Valcárcel, 1986).Yet, only 20 per cent of the region’s population lived in its capital and most other urban centres were small and poorly connected with each other as well as with the capital. Nor did commercial accomplishment guarantee everybody a share in its success. A report in the local Boletín de Comercio, in September of 1886 estimated that a third of its population – some 12,000 souls – were deprived, having no access even to clean water.

What undid Santander? Santander’s shipping movements were clearly in decline by the 1880s and, after that decade, the slide accelerated alarmingly to only very briefly recuperate in the middle of the 1890s. Why? Without necessarily citing priority, a number of difficulties were now patently evident. There was an over-reliance on Castilian wheat; it became, in effect, a new ‘monopoly’. Spanish wheat gradually became uncompetitive on global markets. Larger volumes of wheat were now exported through the Mediterranean ports of Spain, especially because of the emergence of parts of La Mancha as significant wheat producers. The mentalities of the Castilian harinocrats and their merchant affiliates at Santander, as revealed in the discourses of El Boletín Commercial, shows that these two constituencies deemed their activities as a duty to fulfil a national destiny. Finally, for whatever reasons, the trading elites of Santander preferred to regard to the state as their saviour. Rather than attempt to innovate, or more critically invest or diversify in the face of more intense southern competition, they sought the state to intervene on their behalf and protect them. This of course, it did not do. The loss of the remaining colonies put another nail in the port’s flagging fortunes. Traditional boats, pinazas, acted until quite late in the century as the principal vessels for the wheat dispatch at a time when merchant ships were experiencing revolutionary changes, not least the incorporation of engines. The result of this reluctance to adapt was, as might be expected, that cargoes increasingly were carried in foreign-registered vessels. In the early 1880s, more than 50 per cent of the goods arriving from the Americas came in foreign-registered vessels and this proportion inexorably expanded. Increasingly, Santander was evolving into a depot for goods in transit, thereby shedding many of its market and financial service functions (González Echeverría, 1980). Worse still, the merchant fraternity did not initiate the construction of a planned deepwater berth to facilitate larger merchantmen until 1891(Ortega Valcárcel, 1986). Merchants whose

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predecessors had being clamouring for better overland connections, especially by rail, found their economic situation briefly buttressed, only later to be subverted by its arrival (Artola, 1978). Between 1860 and 1880, more efficient rail connections than those that linked Cantabria to the rest of the peninsula were built between Castile and Mediterranean Spain (Gómez Mendoza, 1982). All of a sudden, Mesetan grain could be expeditiously transported to the growing market at Barcelona. Swiftly, flour production was incorporated into the burgeoning Catalan industrial nexus where innovation and investment were synonymous. By the 1860s, Barcelona was emerging as the principal flour producing and exporting port on the peninsula and was even competing with Santander in its traditional Caribbean markets (Ortega Valcárcel, 1986). In 1893, Barcelona exported 75,000 tons of wheat, while Santander’s total was less than 30,000 tons (Nadal Oller, 1984). Santander’s merchant fraternity were, by contrast, almost exclusively focused on grain. They failed to create conditions for investment in larger more advanced boats, port infrastructure or durable and stable business alliances to enable them to modernise and compete with Barcelona. Perhaps they believed that the colonial trading apparatus would sustain them indefinitely. Passenger traffic perhaps might be an alternative. An analysis of goods moving through the port confirms that it had mainly become a receptor and distributor of colonial and European imports. The loss of the colonies and their trade in 1898 was minimally cushioned for only some shippers by an ephemeral burst of locally produced raw mineral exports, chiefly iron ore and zinc (Ortega Valcárcel, 1986). This also happened against a background of a steadily growing role for Santander as a transatlantic passenger port catering mainly for emigrants. This task had been grafted on to the port’s portfolio of functions from 1871 and passenger boats from lines representing England, France, Holland and Germany, as well as five national ones, were regular visitors. All of them opened offices at the port to manage their activities (González Echeverría, 1980). The cusp of this flow of humankind occurred in the 1890s and the early 1900s. Between 1890 and 1911, the annual average number of outgoing passengers tallied to slightly less than 10,000. The outbreak of European hostilities put an abrupt end to this particular phase of movement. A more sanguine estimation of the vitality of the port was provided by a source for the year 1909 noting that the only traffic (other than passengers) was limited to ‘the importation of coal, wood and other exiguous goods’(Estadística Comercial, 1909, p. xi). The physical transformation of the port of Santander from the 1750s onwards was underwritten by the evolution and consolidation of a merchant fraternity that has been the focus of exciting recent research (Martínez Vara, 1985). Emblematic of the symbioses between this social fraction and maritime activity was the emergence of El Muelle [the dockside] and its extension known as La Ribera as the functional hub of Santander (Pozueta Echavarri, 1999). Of the port’s 84 resident bankers and major merchants in 1892, exactly half of them lived and worked out of this area and many conducted several enterprises from their offices. Some acted as agents and brokers for ships, some specialised in customs activities, others acted as agents for the metal ore exporters and foreign smelting companies, or they owned or invested in flour mills and textile factories. Others were shipchandlers and outfitters. Several members of this commercial elite were also involved in the financial services sector: they were bankers and insurers in their own right or they represented leading foreign players. Their anxieties, concerns and achievements were revealed in their journal El Boletín de Comercio with its up-tothe-minute reports from their correspondents in a nexus of ports around the world. More than 20 years later, these indices of vitality were but a vague memory. Less than 30 resident merchants were evident and most of these were small-scale operators, many of the finance houses were now simply offices of major nationwide entities. The use of the term paseo to designate this formerly vibrant commercial maritime district marked a decisive and deeply symbolic break with the past when recreation substituted for business activities.

Chapter 11

Basque Maritime Heritage and Port Development Only one major port finally triumphed in the Basque Provinces, as the physical geography of the region only offered meagre possibilities for port emergence. Many other Basque fishing ports did indeed grow and prosper in spectacular sites. Few had any space to expand. Apart from the Nervión ports, the only major exceptions were the port complexes at Pasajes-Trincherpe including Fuentarrabía and San Sebastián. There were other Bizkaian ports strung out along this inhospitable coastline such as at Bermeo, which once rivalled Bilbao, and ports such as Lequeitio and Ondárroa (Ciriquiain Gaiztarro, [1961] 1979). The miracle has been that so many of them have thrived for so long in such unpromising circumstances (Caro Baroja, 1957). Before the twentieth century, most of the ports in adjacent Guipúzcoa could not boast of even rudimentary port facilities in such places as Mortrico, Deva, Zumaya and Orio. Nevertheless, individually and collectively these ports have played a significant role in Atlantic trade (Casado Soto, 1995; Zabala Uriarte, 1983a, 1983b). The chapter commences with a broad appreciation of Basque maritime heritage and it is followed by an evaluation of some of the key enabling factors that provided a basis for Bilbao to take off as a major port city. The contributions of indigenous and foreign finance to industrial expansion and expertise are then assessed. The chapter concludes with an analysis of the morphologicaland social consequences of commercial growth and particularly of industrial expansion. The coastline of Guipúzcoa acted as a nursery for important medieval ports. In the early modern period, four ports were locked in sharp competition namely Bilbao, Pasajes, Bermeo and San Sebastián (see Figure 11.1). Of all the ports of the northern littoral, Pasajes (Pasaia) has been blessed by fortune. A narrow entrance dominated by low hill opens out onto an extensive, if irregularly shaped bay, offering an extremely safe and well-protected anchorage (see Figure 11.1). In times of peace, it acquired many maritime trading functions; in times of war, it was too close to France. It acted as an anteport for San Sebastián and its maritime vitality was very dependent on the latter settlement. Some of the ships involved in the activities of the Caracas Company were built and outfitted in its ria. Some few kilometres to the west is the settlement and formerly important port of San Sebastián (Donostia). Its ancient settlement was located on a tombolo connected to Monte Urgel. Its port, called Santa Catalina after the small island, is often mentioned in medieval documents. Pedro de Medina writing in 1548 noted that at the port there was an impressive quay where naos loaded varied cargoes for such destinations as France, Flanders and England (CEHOPU, 1994, p. 244). Its major disadvantage was a bar at the entrance, which imposed severe draught limitations. All of these ports shared one other disadvantage; they were adjacent to France. Deep sea fishing also was an early function of this port, whose earliest quays date to the fifteenth century. Considerably extended and improved in the following century, these port works were financed by the levying of tolls on merchandise moving through the port (Medina, 1548 quoted in CEHOPU, 1994, p. 244). Even then, the quays simply could not cope with the volumes of trade. Two sections of the port were then recognised. El Puerto Mayor covered the bay and

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Figure 11. 1 Leading settlements in Basque coastal provinces El Puerto Chico acted as a small docking area beside the walls. San Sebastián owed its early, if modest, prosperity to the crown’s policies of commercial support, outlined in its charter statutes, which were jealously protected by La Cofradía de Mareantes, Maestros de Naos y Cargadores de Santa Catalina. This legislative buttress proved insufficient when wool exports from Castile were re-directed to both Bilbao and Santander. By the mid-seventeenth century, Bilbao’s expansion also cut into San Sebastián’s prime hinterland, namely the upper Ebro valley and northern Navarra. It seems that its role in this regard was already in decline towards the end of the reign of Phillip II. Medieval San Sebastián was a diminutive settlement. Because of its strategic significance, it shares with some other port settlements, such as Cádiz, the distinction of being mapped many times. Tucked in below fortified Monte Urgell, an early seventeenth-century map indicates a small well-walled settlement consisting of two, if not three, parallel streets flanked by walls and several impressive bastions where the main entry gate was situated on the tombolo (CEHOPU,1994, p. 244). Two other small fortified nuclei were located extra muros, one of which was the port on the river at Santa Catalina. Essentially, the early settlement drew cohesion and vitality from the success of its maritime trading. It was also a military redoubt and plaza fuerte. Even by the year 1200, it had an established military reputation (Gordejuela Sanz, 1955–56). Its circumference was walled; by the end of the thirteenth century, seven stout gates had been constructed. In the early sixteenth century, the defences had been attacked on three separate occasions by French armies. This prompted the monarchy to extend and strengthen the defences and erect a new citadel or fortress that held a barracks, warehouses, water tanks, towers and many batteries. These works were completed by mid-century. Over the next 200 years, these defences were further improved; they failed to resist three different sieges. Even by 1719, for instance, San Sebastián appears to have retained its key medieval ingredients. La Villa consisted of the walled old core already described then including an irregular chequerboard-

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like arrangement of streets in five-by-three layout; behind them towered Monte Urgell. Hemmed in by its walls, the sea and a hill, it was a congested town with a minute and well-defended port lying to the west. Two small suburbs were located outside the walls. Like Bilbao its streets were narrow, and there were no extensive public spaces and no major convents located at its core. A 1773 plan, devised by Lizardi, provides the same impression of congestion and suffocation; more significantly, it stresses that no expansion had happened, as the town was still enveloped by its defences (CEHOPU, 1994). However, in 1730, by royal decree, San Sebastián became the seat of a state-sponsored trading company whose prime purpose was to animate the then flagging fortunes of that port city and its hinterland. Trading mainly with the port of Guiara in Venezuela, boats left from both Pasaia and San Sebastián; on their return, they were only licensed to dock at Cádiz. Cocoa trading was the prime objective of the company; goods produced regionally were carried on outward journeys: that meant, for all concerned, the opening of new markets. After 1740, on average six boats a year made the return journey. A combination of royal indifference, hostilities, mainly with England, and the transfer of the headquarters of the Real Compañía to Madrid in 1751 quickly eroded the benefits it had engendered (Basterra, 1925). The loss of this headquarters function was almost coincident with the period during which free trade measures were being stealthily introduced. These developments left many merchants exposed. Their American trade was diluted and they were unprotected from increasing competition from the ports of Bilbao and more especially Bayonne – the company itself was wound up in 1785 (Basterra, 1925). Worse still, military conflagration at the end of the century often witnessed the settlement being in the cockpit of hostilities. It was under siege several times, occupied, sacked, set on fire and by the time of the final assault in 1813, it had lost its importance as a plaza fuerte. Even then, its walls were partially repaired, only to be finally removed in 1863. Despite the moving of customs function in 1841 to the port from inland puertos secos, San Sebastián had definitively lost its rationale as a port town by the late eighteenth century (Muñoz Pérez, 1955). The removal of the walls ushered in a critical phase of physical expansion and redevelopment as well as reorientation in its prime functions (Gordejuela Sanz, 1955–56). The San Sebastián that we know today took shape after 1863 and, unlike other older Iberian port cities, its medieval and early modern architectural and morphological inheritance was largely swept away as a new settlement was laid out. This new city developed rapidly as a holiday resort; the annual arrival of the monarchy confirmed new-won prestige. The city was linked to the national rail network in 1864 and to the main road from Madrid to France. Its port functions from then on became increasingly concentrated on leisure.

Bilbao: Unpromising beginnings Context and locale Bilbao’s site is dramatic. It is in a north-facing ria immediately overlooked by high hills and further cut off from easy access to the rest of the peninsula to the south by a chain of mountains. Its site and physical situation are not at all unlike those of Oporto, but the valley floor of the river Nervión is wider than the Douro. A similarity shared by both ports is that entry is obstructed by sand bars acting as major impediments for shipping. An aerial view of Bilbao today reveals a winding river Nervión and an urban development that tenaciously hugs the river for many kilometres. Viewed from the sea, the historic core of the city is barely visible and imposing hills cut up the view inland. The agglomeration has spread out, colonising many of the tributary valleys; the hills overlooking the city, which were the sources of minerals, remain, as yet, unconquered by urban expansion.

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True enough, elevation and isolation were not unimportant in Bilbao’s development. Vital connections existed, from late medieval times at least, between the larger settlements of the interior and those of the coast. Behind the port towns of Deva, San Sebastián and Zumaya in the province of Guipúzcoa, for instance, there was a first line of interaction involving such settlements as Eloisa, Bedua and Azpéitia (see Figure 11.1). Further back still there were other settlements that supplied timber to the coast, some of whose inhabitants from early times invested in fishing expeditions to Newfoundland and the North Sea or, in trading with Seville, the Indies and the Mediterranean. In other words, the coastal towns by themselves could not have sustained the Basque maritime and manufacturing achievements. Enabling factors The paradox was, some would have us believe, that Bilbao’s development happened against a background of an archaic and stagnant rural world. When Bilbao had emerged in the sixteenth century as a successful port, it could trumpet a portfolio of enormous advantages (Caro Baroja, 1981). It was sited in potentially the best harbour in the region. Immediately contiguous to the settlement were immensely rich deposits of iron ore; swift streams and immense stocks of wood from nearby hills offered a potentially inexhaustible supply of power. Landlocked Castile too was a resource. If its trade could be funnelled via Bilbao, it too could be a source of power and revenue. In addition, maritime resources and shipping offered a further range of possibilities. Finally, a series of long-established, albeit often small-scale, commercial and productive activities opened the Basques to a wider world for trade. These legacies may be regarded as decisive enabling factors. The Basque Provinces were rich in wood, fish, minerals and, at times, foodstuffs. Each of these commodities required processing, finance, warehousing, ships and shippers for transport and ultimate export. More than any other region in Atlantic Iberia, the Basque communities of Bizkaia and Guipúzcoa developed expertise in these activities, and forged trading networks and created favourable conditions for maritime commerce around the Bay of Biscay, throughout Atlantic Europe and into the Mediterranean, to Newfoundland and the Caribbean (Goyhenetche, 1996). However, ships had to be designed, built, fitted out and armed; arms had to be made, munitions had to be prepared, iron had to be extracted, transported, founded and crafted. The extraction, design, transformation, selling and trading of a wide range of items became embedded early in the Basque economy (Priotti, 1991). The extent to which these departures buttressed Bilbao’s late spectacular growth remains to be assessed. There can be no doubt that the construction of better roads linking the region to the rest of the peninsula in the second half of the nineteenth century was of especial importance (Larrea Sagarmínaga, 1974). Blocked for so long in conducting direct trade with the colonies, the Basques circumvented this and other obstacles by developing manufacturing trades, European trading networks and infrastructures to support them (Astiazrian, 1995). These enterprises left the region in a stronger position than any of its northern Iberian competitors. Cultural factors The maritime tradition of navigation, piloting and map making were also relevant, and they facilitated the early conquest of the Bay of Biscay by the Basques (Mollat du Jourdan, 1983; Suárez Fernández, 1959). An organised marine administration, a massive navy, a merchant marine and diverse fishing interests relied on many aspects of science for innovation and progress (Llombart et al., 1996). Little wonder then that cartographic endeavour was a central and critical support (Cerezo Martínez, 1994). The Basques being so deeply involved in all aspects of maritime activities made

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their own distinctive contribution to navigation (Casado Soto, 1996a), to cartography (Comellas, 1991; Llombart et al., 1998) and privateering also sustained commerce (Otero Lana, 1992). Fishing, perhaps above all other enterprises, copper-fastened the link between the Basques and the sea (Imaz, 1944). Various specialised activities emerged within this umbrella, such as cod and whale fishing (Ciriquiain Gaiztarro, [1961] 1979). Fishing expeditions involved a lot more than fish: trade was equally significant (Azpiazu Elorza, 1990; Barkham, 1990). It is a tradition that was already well established in early medieval times (Gracia Cárcamo et al., 1996). By the 1520s, Basque fishermen were off to the New World at Terranova, mainly seeking cod and soon they came to be involved in whaling (Laburu, 1991). It is no accident that the opening of these critical fishing grounds coincided with the time of Spanish hegemony at sea, and in ship production and the maintenance of long-distance sea routes when an era of a maritime world economy was a reality (Kurlansky, 1998, 2000). In the early sixteenth century, Vitoria/Gasteiz had emerged as a vital hub for the redistribution of cod across Castile and beyond and, not surprisingly, merchants from the same settlement were deeply involved in the financing of fishing expeditions from coastal ports (Apiazu Elorza, 1988). A fishing expedition to Terranova was full of risks; success, however, could yield massive profits. The volume of fish originating from Terranova that entered the Basque ports in the sixteenth century was spectacular. One large boat captained by Antonio de Iturribalzaga arrived in 1627 with 150,000 cod, and this catch was considered a below average cargo (Apiazu Elorza, 1988). Hundreds of people on land were seasonally employed, especially at San Sebastián, in all aspects of preparation, sale and transport of cod and of other fish that were largely consumed inland. Once landed, cod were dispatched to cabanas on the sea-shore – arenales – to be cleaned and cured. Fish were often released for sale there or brought to larger settlements to be warehoused before being transported to where they were ultimately consumed. Merchants often owned or leased these cabanas (Apiazu Elorza, 1990). During the height of the fishing campaigns in the first half of the sixteenth century, ships sailed out from the Basque ports via La Rochelle or, in times of conflict with France, their outward journey began after they had taken salt on from one of the ports of Andalusia. March to April marked the outward voyage, most of the boats returning in September or October. The ‘Golden Age of Terranova’ may have passed by the early years of the seventeenth century; decline was slow and it was as a result of a combination of competition with foreign fleets and over-fishing. It was in this way that Bilbao became the cod capital of Spain and the peninsula’s leading re-export centre. The 1713 Treaty of Utrecht represented a kind of fin-de-siècle and the great cod banks of Labrador and Newfoundland were incorporated as an English resource. Although the waters were fished afterwards by different Iberian nations, the overall tenor was one of long-term decline (Gracia Cárcamo, 1996). Various efforts were made to revive transatlantic fisheries through different means, from the leading ports in the eighteenth century though the aegis of mercantile associations such as La Compañía de Ballenas de San Sebastián (1732–49) and La Compañía Guipuzcoana de Caracas. They came to nothing (Gárate Ojanguren, 1990). The decline of long-distance fishing enterprise continued throughout most of the nineteenth century only to revive again at the end of the century with the advent of steam and steel. Shipbuilding, iron and wood procurement Ships of all kinds were constructed from early times, reflecting the diverse structures of the Basque maritime enterprise (ITSAS, 1998). Fishing boats were made for specific fishing grounds, whaling boats that could double as trading vessels, merchantmen of all kinds were often requisitioned for war (Merino Navarro, 1981; Serrano Mangas, 1985), warships (Rahn Phillips, 1986) and a host

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of smaller vessels were fitted out (Rubio Serrano, 1991). For such enterprises, a highly skilled workforce was essential, as were a litany of raw materials (Odriozola, 1996). Understandably, there were penetrating downstream consequences of these activities, especially near the major shipyards (Goodman, 1997). There was an anchor factory at Hernani near Pasajes – La Real Fábrica de Anclas (Carrión Arregui, 1998). However, this facility was part of a complex of production units that emerged to enable Basque maritime enterprise to prosper. Major shipbuilding centres were located at Zorroa in 1626 on the Nervión (Phillips, 1983), at Colindres in 1686 in Cantabria, at Pasajes (Odriozola Oyarbide, 1996, 1998) on the banks of the Orio and at Mundaka (see Figure 11.2). Smaller ports, such as Orio and Zumaya, counted well-established shipbuilding facilities by the early sixteenth century and many other centres are mentioned in the early work of Guiard Larrauri (1913–14) and Seoane y Ferrer (1985). Bilbao and ports nearby were the hub of sixteenthcentury shipbuilding as the archival extract below confirms (Rivera Medina, 1998). ... en este villa [Bilbao] y su comarca se hacen cada año muchas naos, algunas de ellas grandes y hermosas. Asimismo, se hacen gran copia de otras suertes de navios. Hay hombres que solo de su propio dinero hacen tres o cuatro naos en un año (Guiard Larrauri, 1917).

In 1586, it is estimated that Bilbao merchants had more than 200 large ships [de alto bordo] at work, more than 70 per cent of which were built locally in its magnificent ria. Most were involved in the Flanders wool trade and each one made, on average, one or two round voyages per year. The Basque proportion of the 300,000-ton Spanish marine capacity was significant. Spain, as estimated by Braudel, at the end of the sixteenth century, topped the European shipping league with a third of the total tonnage. The yard at Zorroa became both an arsenal and the royal shipyard [Real Astillero] where most boats were built by contract [asiento], and there was another major centre at Deusto. In the neighbouring province of Guipúzcoa, Pasajes and Oria acted as key hubs for a series of major shipyards. More than 1,000 major boats were laid down between the sixteenth and the eighteenth century (Odriozola Oyarbide, 1998). These yards had cyclical rates of output in the seventeenth century; they mainly concentrated on the building of galleons and 73 were built during this century. The yards of Bizkaia were more productive (Serrano Mangas, 1989). They were replaced by the yards of Guipúzcoa in the latter half of the century (Rivera Medina, 1998). This patchy performance in shipbuilding was not repeated in the eighteenth century. Brilliant and insightful state reformers were allowed considerable latitude by a monarchy dedicated to the intensification of trade (Rivera Medina, 1998). The end of the nineteenth and the early twentieth century witnessed a similar resurgence of shipbuilding. Most of the wood came from the contiguous hills and uplands and supplies were available up to the end of the eighteenth century (Bilbao Acedos, 2003). Only in times of intense building activity did wood have to be sourced from further afield or even outside the region (Odriozola Oyarbide, 1998). There were, however, problems linked to the supply and quality of wood (Vivas Pineda, 1998). Forges consumed vast quantities of timber and domestic requirements also cut into supply (Bilbao Acedos, 2003). At various times, management strategies were enacted to ensure some degree of equilibrium between demands and supply (Odriozola Oyarbide, 1998). The achievement of a balance between conservation and development of the woods remained an aspiration (Urteaga, 1987). Iron had to be extracted, smelted and forged and this mineral, either as ore or as finished items, was one of the principal long-term exports of the region (Fernández de Pinedo, 1974). Wood production was its close relative. Small forges were a feature of the region since medieval times (Díez de Salazar, 1980) and they remained a crucial support up to the mid-nineteenth century (Fernández de Pinedo, 1982). The tackle used for hulk fastening involved mainly nail production. Forges and foundries at Azpeitia and Rentería, beside Pasajes, specialised in these activities.

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However, iron working and forge production were ancient and very durable activities. They were dispersed throughout the coastal provinces. Many facilities were located near rivers to enable them to tap water as a source of power. Larger foundries tended to have rural locations where there were ample supplies of wood. Smaller ones were a feature of villages where both were found. Most of these smaller plants were effectively workshops, seldom with more than a handful of workers supplying local needs. Total volumes of iron produced by this almost minifundist productive system were minute. Even in the early years of the nineteenth century, visiting technical experts commented on the uncomplicated nature of the foundry processes, conditions due in no small way to undercapitalisation. Manifestations of this kind of backwardness were evident in the consumption of large amounts of wood, the low quality of some of the products and the high volume of waste in the production process. Scarcity of charcoal pushed up prices in the early nineteenth century to such an extent that English and Swedish products massively undercut local ones and forced the smiths to import coal to replace inflatedly priced wood. Merchants examined the possibilities offered by colonial demand for iron utensils; soon the colonies soon became history. The traditional wool trade also was in poor shape and merchants moved towards the iron as a substitute: it was too late. Demand on the peninsula for iron implements had increased sharply from the middle of the eighteenth century, which spurred on production; cheaper and often better quality imports reduced locational advantage (González Portilla, 1981). The result was a series of crises (Zabala Uriarte, 1988). Ships and troops had to be provided with weapons and ordnance (Larrañaga, 1981). Tolosa and Mondragón were major centres and these were linked to smaller foundries at Eibar, Elgoibar and Vergara (see Figure 11.2). Most of the production units for these items were located in Guipúzcoa. The most integrated production centre was Las Reales Fábricas de Placencia and, especially here, state contracts set the pace of production. In the eighteenth century, government control passed into the hands of La Compañía de Caracas (Odriozola Oyarbide, 1998). A touchstone of this energetic activity is revealed by the flowering of support facilitating shipbuilding, the proclamation of a plethora of laws relating to quality control and a series of riverine improvements initiated by the municipal authorities. Boats of all kinds were being contracted such as naos, galleons, barcos, balleneros and a multitude of smaller boats (Casado Soto, 1998). Over the century, it has been calculated that some 100 major vessels were built in Bizkaia and more that two-thirds of these were constructed along the ria of Bilbao. Before 1630, most of the boats built exceeded 200 tons. Boats that were fitted-out for the trade were armed and designed for the harbours of Atlantic Europe. After that date, when the harbour entrance was modified, the average size of the boats constructed on the ria was 700 tons; nearly all of them were built on contract for the navy. All of the ten massive galleons constructed for private commercial use were built on the ria. Large volumes of iron ore and many finished implements were exported. Spectacular export increases occurred from the early years of the century (Zabala Uriarte, 1983a). Much went north, to England and France; Portugal was another important customer. For England, in the early part of the eighteenth century, Basque iron represented some 10 per cent of its total import expenditure. Little wonder that the then Irish resident merchants in Bilbao such as Lynch and Power managed to play key roles as intermediaries in this trade (Zabala Uriarte, 1994, p. 143). It was a trade subject to sudden and serious price oscillations, which could leave any merchant’s holding seriously exposed. Sometimes, these uncertainties were triggered by the producers as a mechanism to control prices. Nearly 3 million sacks of wool were shipped out of Spain in 1714 and almost half this total moved northwards from Bilbao’s 45 registered wool stores (Zabala Uriarte, 1994, p. 68). This tally was frequently exceeded. At that time, specific wool export licenses were granted to particular

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Figure 11.2

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Bilbao and the Nervión. Adapted from Guàrdia et al., 1994, p. 212, Figure 2

merchants for named ports. Goods inventories of the ships involved reveal that permits were porous, being only partly adhered to. Many of the ships carried a much wider range of goods for the named merchants than that declared on their manifests. It was a logical form of personal insurance. Progressively during the eighteenth century, state policy, manifested in customs charges, regulated the sale and export of certain basic commodities. Tobacco was amongst the first, later wool and finally iron removing the former prerogatives of the producers, shippers and merchants. There were some benefits flowing from tighter monitoring. Wool of all kinds reached Bilbao and the export of ordinary wool [lanas bastas] was discouraged; only fine merino was shipped abroad. Figures for wool movements ideally should be exact. Movements were measured as it was carried northwards by land to Bilbao via the aduanas at the puertos secos of Orduña and Valmaseda and again out of Bilbao by sea. Volumes were tallied at Bilbao and discrepancies in the figures from the different sites reflect contraband, fraud, or at least bad bookkeeping (Zabala Uriarte, 1994, p. 270). What is clear is that there was a sustained by very variable flows of wool into Bilbao (Phillips and Phillips, 1997). This unevenness was also evident in relation to the volumes dispatched to the leading export markets of Holland, France and England and later on in the century, to Hamburg. It was Amsterdam that remained the great constant. In exceptional circumstances, it absorbed up to 98 per cent of all Bilbao’s wool; on average, amounts hovered around 60 per cent. A varying quantity

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of this product ultimately reached England. At times of poor relations, wool from Bilbao managed to arrive in England by the northern route and iron went to the same destination via Portugal. London, Bristol and Exeter were the principal English destinations for Basque shipped wool and 200 sacks, on average, were taken annually to Dublin. Le Harve acted as the chief French wool market and the principal destination for Basque exported wool; Bordeaux and Bayonne took it from the same source. Between 1750 and 1760, there was a significant growth in the export of wool from Bilbao. A priest who visited the city in 1750 noted: ... there were there some hundred wool merchants, most of whom were locals and small volume operators – in that year [1750], more than 8,000 more sacks of wool more than the year before had arrived and between the years of 1740 to 1750, an additional one hundred merchants could be counted in that port – that in that year an extra 8,000 sacks of wool had arrived, – as they had left the route [carrera] of Navarra for Pamplona and Bayonna as they had opted for the new entry for Bilbao at Valmeseda, with a great saving of leagues, because now the trade is increasing , and from I can observe now, the sacks are stacked wall-high on the same streets, as there is no room to house them; even the attic of the residence of the corregidor is packed with them ... ( Calatayud, [1750] quoted in Zabala Uriarte, 1994, p.275).

The transport of such immense quantities of wool from Castile required hosts of donkeys, ponies and carts, not to mention drivers. In the 1750s, up to 7,000 carts were on the move passing through Valmaseda. These years were high-volume export periods. There were major variations in the quantities passing along the three main routes into Bilbao, namely the passes of Orduña, Valmeseda and Altube/Vitoria. From mid-century onwards, the volumes of wool exported experienced a modest growth coming to a sudden halt because of renewed outbreaks of conflict at the end of the century. There was less money available to pay for imports and merchants both in Bilbao and throughout Castile lost out. France’s defeats in the next decade offered England almost global hegemony in the supply of cod [bacalao] and Bilbao’s massive imports from France almost dried up. The insatiable Basque appetite for bacalao led in the 1730s to merchants sourcing supplies from elsewhere. Even during open hostilities with England, re-exports from the then English-controlled grounds reached Bilbao and some of the other Basque ports. Rotterdam came to play a vital role in the redirection of cod supplies, as to a lesser extent did Lisbon. Cod came from other Dutch ports, from New England, Ireland and even Terranova, and enormous quantities of salmon and sardines came to Bilbao from Galicia. Privateering originating in England or France, even when Spain was a non-combatant, provoked constant changes in the source of cod and other merchandise, and more crucially in the actual supply routes. Tobacco was one of the few colonial [coloniales] products that came through Bilbao in large quantities, though it was sourced outside Spain’s overseas possessions (Petit, 1979). It was also a commodity that was jealously regulated by the state’s agent and the Corregidor was charged to stamp out widespread contraband dealings. As with other commodities, it came to Spain together with other items such as spices, sugar, dyes, cacao and timber (Brading, 1971). Tobacco, like wool, was subject to rigorous customs superintendence and state officials quickly realised that it could be a prime basis of revenue; the contraband trade would also always remain significant. Most of the tobacco came from French ports and in tranquil times as re-exports from Bristol and Liverpool. It came to the Nervión, which was the only northern port equipped with the requisite infrastructure of drying houses and presses. Most of Bilbao’s merchant fraternity were involved in tobacco as a sideline because it was as dependable as it was profitable. Pepper, cacao, sugar and cinnamon arrived mainly as re-exports from Cádiz, London, Amsterdam and Bordeaux. Trade in coloniales shows more variations in terms of the ports of origin perhaps simultaneously reflecting political turmoil.

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Bilbao always was involved in the redirecting and trading of goods around the north Atlantic. Wheat too was landed in times of shortage – which was a frequent occurrence in the Vascongadas – from all over Europe; in times of plenty the tide flowed in the opposite direction. In 1733, for instance, there were shipments from Cork, Dublin and Wexford in Ireland. Later, beans often outstripped wheat imports in terms of both price and volume. Items such as beans, maize, rice and flour featured on many incoming ship’s inventories, as did charcoal and textiles. No one source, port or region acted as dominant place of cereal supply. Re-exports from different Dutch ports was a recurrent feature; supplies reached Bilbao from Baltic ports and from the United States of America.

Movers and shakers An index of urban/port city vitality and refinement is gauged by the presence of merchants and especially resident foreign merchants. Volumes of trade and diversity of commodities acutely distinguished different merchant types. Foreign merchants did not always come solely motivated by profit; many were refugees from England, France, Ireland, Holland and Scotland (Guimerá Ravina, 1985). Religious oppression was as potent a cause of movement as was economic strangulation in their home ports. Many such merchants, on arrival, were able to re-animate older trading networks to their advantage and focus them on their new locales. Few enjoyed full civil rights in their adopted settlements; many could not achieve civic office (Bilbao Acedos, 2003). By the early 1730s, for instance, more than half of Bilbao’s external trade was in the hands of foreigners; in fact, six companies owned by outsiders controlled more than a third of all imports (Mauleón Isla, 1961). They were involved in all aspects of trade ranging from wool to letters of credit and ‘colonial’ goods. The Irishman Lynch, one of the town’s wealthiest merchants, traded in textiles, fabrics, sugar, iron, cod, sardines, cacao, rugs, sugar, cinnamon, vegetables, hardware, copper, tin, wax, cheese, hides flour, candles and hardwoods (Zabala Uriarte, 1994, p.153). It is true that his goods inventory was one of the most diverse in the early eighteenth century; he was fourth in the league of exporters and the second most important importer. Resident outsiders, whose annual tally was about 50 represented about a quarter of the value of the then average total port trade. Some were local representatives of foreign located firms. Others were involved in private trading, often on their own account. Basque merchants were also major players and they could rely on the Consulado and the crown to support them.

The dispersal of imports Inner foreland: Iberia Bilbao was locked in a sinuous ria behind which was the Meseta to the south. To reach this tableland and its many settlements, goods had to be painstakingly moved over several ranges of mountains through well-defined passes, each of which had its puerto seco. Here the state collected tolls. The Basque coastal provinces were exempt from certain levies; their fueros [rights] made them provincias exentas [toll exempt] (Bilbao Acedos, 2003). There were three passes: Altube, Orduña and Valmeseda. Bilbao also had competitors servicing the towns of the Meseta (see Figure 11.2 above). Due west and today only more than an hour’s drive was a complex of ports focused upon the ria of Santander whose merchants were ever anxious to capture the Castilian trade. Commercial pressure filtered through the Consulado de Bilbao ultimately led to the choice of upgrading the Orduña route, as it was financially impossible to maintain three separate extremely demanding routes for thousands of carts.

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Also, the improvement of the Santander route to Castile via Reinosa acted as a powerful stimulus for the upgrading of the Orduña connection. Foreign goods and especially textiles moved inland; wool moved in the opposite direction (Madrazo, 1984). It is by no means an easy task to ascertain exactly where the landward consigned goods were ultimately dispersed to. Many were stored in the larger settlements, such as Burgos, Miranda, Palencia and Valladolid, for subsequent redistribution. Tolls were exacted at the mountain passes; hence there is a record of merchandise on the move (Guiard Larrauri, 1913–14; Phillips, 1998). One late eighteenth-century visitor crudely sketched Bilbao’s hinterland, noting that imports, especially fish and coloniales were traded overland over both Castiles, Navarra, Asturias, even as far as Galicia and the western part of Aragón. Traditional calibrations of port forelands and hinterlands often exclusively rely upon the identification of origin imports and the destinations of exports. Many Atlantic Iberian port cities were entrepôts. The redirection of goods from a port such as Bilbao could either be overland or by sea in smaller boats. Most of the coasting trade from Bilbao was concerned with the redistribution of goods of overseas origin and, of course, with iron (Basas Fernández, 1967). Iron often made its way to Cádiz and then on to the colonies or the Mediterranean. As with all trading movements, statistical deficits are evident. The ports of origin are better known than their final destinations, the percentages being 73 to 57 for the period 1733 to 1768. Over this period, there were nearly a 1,000 movements between Bilbao and the main ports of Galicia, for instance, with little difference between inward and outward movements and volumes of goods. These data confirm that many of the coasters left Bilbao empty, to return mainly with fish. More boats left the Nervión for the ports of Asturias than went in the opposite direction; the reverse was the case in relation to the ports of Santander. The relaxation of the Monopolio and the establishment of the Galician mail service from mid-century onwards ‘disturbed’ the more closed structure of foreland circuits of the larger ports of northern Atlantic Iberia (Basurto Larrañaga, 1983). This type of coastal trading or tramping doubled in intensity in the second half of the eighteenth century, if calibrated by the number of ships arriving at Bilbao from Asturias, Cantabria, Galicia and other Basque ports. There were interesting variations in the trading circuits between Bilbao and her northern Atlantic homologue ports over the latter part of the eighteenth century. Only c.60 per cent of all the trading between Bilbao and Galicia centred on Corunna; many other small Galician ports were involved (Alonso Alvarez, 1986). In sharp contrast, nearly 90 per cent of all the vessel entries to Bilbao from Cantabria came from Santander. Outer foreland: Atlantic Europe The principal Atlantic ports serviced from Bilbao, or exporting to it, were located in France and England, followed by those of the North Sea and Holland, Portugal, Ireland and Norway. Seven ports, for most of the eighteenth century, formed Bilbao’s Atlantic trading realm. They were Amsterdam (23), Bayonne (4), Bordeaux (4), Hamburg (4), Lisbon (2), London (22) and Nantes (9), also on the peninsula, Cádiz (5) and some other cod ports (12). (The figures represent the percentage breakdown in 1752 of the volume of Bilbao’s imports.) London was the port through which a major proportion of Basque imports – on average 70 per cent – and exports moved (Roseveare, 1969, 1987). The significance of the Bilbao–London nexus was even stressed by Daniel Defoe in 1722 in his novel Robinson Crusoe. Bristol and Exeter were some considerable way back in the league. These centres remained key ports, interacting with England throughout the eighteenth century. Liverpool only makes a brief appearance towards the end of the century as a tobacco source. Basque iron products found a ready market in Ireland from where imports of salted beef, fish and leather originated (O’Flanagan, 1999). Western Scotland was added as a further source for

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bacalao. Towards the end of the century, war and the loosening of ties between the resident Irish merchant families at Bilbao and their kin in Ireland was manifested in a significant falling-off of trade with Ireland and especially with the ports of Waterford, Dungarvan, Dublin and Derry (Bilbao Acedos, 2003). Across the Atlantic, the newly emergent Untied States began to be mentioned in Basque customs records as a source for some of Bilbao’s imports. It took further advantage of its neutral status after 1793 when revolutionary conflicts set Europe on fire. Tobacco and cereals reached Bilbao sporadically from North America; Newfoundland, and St. Johns in particular, was a valuable source of cod, always dependent on Anglo-Spanish relationships, at the turn of the century (Mannion, 1992). Lisbon was regarded by Bilbao’s merchants as a minor port; its yearly take of Basque exports sometimes exceeded 10 per cent, although, on average, it ran to about 2 percent. It, after all, could act as a clandestine exit for goods to America. Hamburg sent large quantities of textiles from as far afield as Moscow to Bilbao as well as tin, copper and other metals; fish and wood also moved southwards. Bilbao rarely accounted for more than 5 per cent of the total of Hamburg’s trade. In the latter part of the century, Baltic trade increased in significance and the ports of Riga and St. Petersburg emerged as two key centres. One of the factors that attracted a handful of Spanish merchants to St Petersburg was the newly organised manner for contracting of wood for the building of naval ships in Spain (Urteaga, 1987). Bilbao, excluding Cádiz, acted as the main Iberian entry point for goods coming from Amsterdam, which itself has been described as the warehouse of Europe on account of the immense variety of goods that passed through it (Diederiks and Reeder, 1996). Not surprisingly, most of the goods that reached Bilbao from Amsterdam, apart from textiles, were re-exports and the range of imports reflected the diversity of Amsterdam’s trades (Burke, 1974). Cinnamon, for instance, flowed in massive quantities to Bilbao representing a whopping two-thirds of all Dutch cinnamon exports (Zabala Uriarte, 1994, p. 24). As the century progressed, Amsterdam’s pivotal position for some of Bilbao’s key trades contracted as a result of the growing importance of Rotterdam. Rivalry with Hamburg as a distributor of metals intensified. This further diminished its ascendancy as one of Europe’s premier spice emporia. Nonetheless, this critical port maintained and expanded its financial services sector and for this, if for no other reason, retained a vital position in Bilbao’s circuit of commercial relations (Diederiks and Reeder, 1996). The French ports of Bordeaux, Nantes and Bayonne, in that order, were consistent trading partners of Bilbao; occasionally, Dunkirk and St Malo were also important. Bordeaux was in the ascendant during the eighteenth century when its volume of trade expanded by a factor of 30 (Huetz de Lemps, 1967). Basque resources remained in demand at Bordeaux; increasingly this port had less to offer to Bilbao; wine and colonial goods could be more cheaply and easily acquired elsewhere. Bordeaux could, however, act as a conduit for re-exports during times of war with England. Inertia perhaps was a more potent element in the maintenance of trade networks in a nonelectronic world. Re-arranging credit, finance and warehousing in new ports were no easy tasks for merchants and shippers; hence, ports such as Bordeaux remained a feature in the trading orbit of Bilbao despite changed circumstances. Bordeaux remained a supplier for Bilbao of textiles, cloths, paper, flax, cereals and even books. Nantes, too, was a pivotal port for Bilbao. Many boats leaving Bilbao, if they were carrying re-exports, usually did not register their departure. Movement of local resources such as iron and wool were more rigorously recorded. This may help us to understand divergences; it by no means explains port-book discrepancies. One instance suffices to underline the point: in 1761, the port-books of Nantes identify 127 boats coming from Bilbao; the records of the same port only mention ten for the same year departing for Bilbao. These data raise a critical issue: how valid are records of inter-port movements as surrogates of trade intensity and if not, do they represent a reliable measure of anything? The problem is that a boat leaving from a particular

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port might cross the Atlantic twice before arriving as its declared destination in a wide-ranging trading circuit. It might involve a litany of ports and the movement of many types of goods, from butter to slaves. In summary, Bilbao’s foreland during the eighteenth century witnessed some important structural changes in composition; notwithstanding, the basic commodities which moved around its orbit did not alter substantially. At the start of the period, trade was riveted essentially to a seven-port foreland network: Amsterdam and London between then notched up almost half of the total trade. At the close of the century, although the volume of trade had grown only moderately, the number of port regions had expanded to nine. The dominance of Amsterdam and London had become whittled down by half and the opening up of new ports for trade created new challenges for Bilbao’s merchant community (Zabala Uriarte, 1994). Hamburg then had materialised as a major player linking it to the extended range of Baltic ports. Bilbao was thus a major exporter of raw materials, principally iron and wool, a redistributor of goods and an importer of a range of commodities chiefly consumed all over Castile and even beyond. It was a key importer of fish, especially cod, of cereals and other foodstuffs for a region frequented more often by chronic shortages and rare surpluses. It is possible to recognise Bilbao’s eighteenth century inner foreland consisting of the ports of the north coast of Spain and those of western France and southwards to Cádiz and Lisbon, where trading was most intense. After that, the rest of the European foreland mainly had a northern focus with hubs in the Baltic Sea, Hamburg, Amsterdam–Rotterdam and London. Beyond that rim, colonial products etched out an outer foreland and, finally, the cod trade had both inner and outer Atlantic characteristics. Africa and the Mediterranean scarcely figured at all in these trading realms. This issue of the non-recording of both goods and certain shipping movements is an intractable problem. It means that before the mid-nineteenth century, it is impossible to reconstruct with exactitude particular aspects of the coasting trades of the inner forelands. In addition, the domain of the hinterland also cannot be precisely pinpointed because of the potential of several dispersals of the incoming merchandise, except, of course, bulk items.

Port and settlement evolution The construction and improvement of port facilities, rendering them more accessible by land and by sea was also a vital dimension of the Basque connection with the sea (Azpiazu Elorza, 1990). In the sixteenth century, reports mention the inadequacy of such basic facilities as wharfs (Ciriquiain Gaiztarro, 1951, [1961] 1979). More systematic attention was afforded to the provision of port facilities by vested interests such as the Consulado in the next century (Smith, 1940). At its close, most of the wharfs were in place from Deusto extending in as far as the core, and even an auxiliary channel was constructed from Abando to relieve congestion (Zabala Uriarte, 1983a). Boats, displacing 200 tons, were then able to dock at the centre. Smaller wharfs were in place from Algorta to Portugalete and onwards to the outports such as Górliz (see Figure 11.2 above). Founded in the year 1400, Bilbao’s promoter Diego López de Haro could never have imagined that his small bastide settlement would eventually become one of Europe’s great Atlantic port cities, a thriving industrial centre and the hub of the administration’s political economy (García y Bellido, 1988). It needed an infrastructure to secure and sustain the movement of wool from Castile to France and to what became the Low Countries, which were its main finishing centres. Initially, the nascent bastide settlement was granted substantial liberties that extended for some 60 km (Guàrdia et al., 1994). The early loss of most of these liberties acted as a major constraint

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Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

to subsequent physical expansion. It also helped to congeal its urban centre and prevent powerful institutions from acquiring a presence at the core of the settlement. Bilbao did achieve spectacular success; within a little more than a century after its creation, it had become one of the leading ports on the Bay of Biscay. In fact, by the mid-sixteenth century, it was already the key port in a zone that extended between Bordeaux and Oporto. All of this was realised in a paired down area of only 8 hectares. Three short parallel streets joined by narrow alleys were the beginning of this settlement. Three new streets were added within a century and the then urban plan won the title siete calles [seven streets] and this remains today the designation of its initial core (see Figure 11.3). Hogenberg’s image of 1572 confirms that it was a small congested town (see Plate 16).

Figure 11.3

Bilbao in the early eighteenth century. Adapted from Guàrdia et al., 1994, p. 216, Figure 11

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Surrounded by a fragile and militarily ineffective wall, medieval Bilbao was indeed a cramped settlement. Unlike many contemporary bastides settlements in Spain and Portugal, there were no major urban open spaces and minute quays acted as the public fulcrum of the settlement where both markets and public spectacles were held (García y Bellido, 1988). Here too were located two significant buildings, the council chambers [ayuntamiento] and the Consulado, which was the personification of the settlement’s mercantile success (Smith, 1978). Its role was to unite diverse groups so that they could defend their rights, and to establish a tribunal that would mediate internal clashes of interest and facilitate connections with Basque merchants settled in other European ports (Guiard Larrauri, [1917] 1968). The population of the town had breached the 5,000 mark by 1492 and had added nearly a further thousand to its total within less than a score of years (García de Cortázar, 1966). Census data permit an estimation of street totals in this period. Most of the residences built originally for single families soon became multi-family residences and this process was further facilitated by building upwards. This departure marked the beginning of a trend to be continued into the nineteenth century. It involved high-density occupation and inflated house prices. The impact of a shortage of space on the settlement’s economic vitality is unknown.

Economy, population and expansion during the eighteenth century The scale of the town’s physical expansion during the seventeenth century is difficult to ascertain. There had been notable development towards the west of the core at El Arenal and docks and quays had been developed, extended and improved. A number of elegant public buildings had been constructed, notably the Ayuntamiento. By the end of the century, there was a small resident merchant community; many were foreigners or of foreign descent, including Flemish, French, Irish, Dutch and some English residents who together with their Iberian homologues traded from their warehouse-cum-residences (Bilbao Acedos, 2003). The seventeenth century witnessed some economic and population growth. So much so, that the population almost tripled. Infilling occurred of whatever few open spaces remained in an increasingly crowded core. The existing urban nucleus was stretched to its physical limits by the addition of several new streets, lengthening of existing streets, and their careful and successful integration into the existing urban fabric (see Figure 11.3). Sensitive planning was evident in this regard as the Consejo de la Villa bought up vacant plots in an effort to control physical expansion. In these circumstances, overflow was inevitable; nonetheless it was chaotic and uneven. A municipal hearth-tally conducted in 1704, when subject to a multiplier, reveals that Bilbao’s population was in the order of some 6,000 residents (Mauleón Isla, 1961). This figure is most likely a major underestimate, as it does not include its suburbs. The figure compares with a computation of some 5,000-plus for 1504. This 1704 figure represents a town, which, according to nearly all of its visitors, as well as its merchants had grown substantially in the preceding century. Curiously, this record also indicates that nearly one-tenth of the houses were then empty. By 1802, the population of the town had doubled; again, this figure seems to under-represent the total in a dynamic town with a thriving port. In 1797, 781 houses were recorded there, which represents on average three households per dwelling (Mauleón Isla, 1961). This modest demographic growth reflected both inmigration and positive natural change. All the representations of eighteenth-century Bilbao concur in revealing it as being physically packed with buildings and with no open spaces of note (see Figure 11.3 and Plate 16). A testimony to this intensifying congestion was the tripling of urban rents over the century (González Portilla, 1981). Nevertheless, our ever-reliable observer, Bowles ([1775] 1782) mentions that the houses

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there were tall, well-constructed and substantial. Interestingly, he notes that the settlement had all the appearances of being well-managed. Over the eighteenth century, Bilbao remained a town. The settlement’s trading fraternity was composed of a merchant core that tallied to nearly 400 individuals, making it, in 1797, nearly 10 per cent of the total (Guiard Larrauri, 1913–14). The makers, menders and suppliers, effectively the artisans, accounted for 40 per cent of household heads in the same year and a further 31 per cent were dovetailed to domestic service. Together, these three groups made up more than three-quarters of the then total employed. In 1827, Bilbao counted some 680 shops (many of which would have often been artisanal outlets), 581 warehouses, and some 2,500 residences with a population of c.10, 000 (Madoz, 1849). A description of the social content of its urban core [casco viejo] in 1775 reveals how it had grown in complexity: In Somera, people of importance are resident; there are some traders, some priests and lawyers: the merchants occupy the lower second floors; the others live on third floors. On the other side of the street, the inhabitants are mainly people engaged in obra prima [primary activities], as well as some [small] shop and tavern keepers. Artecalle was the residence of engravers, silversmiths and storekeepers. Tendería had milliners and a handful of merchants. Belosticalle was inhabited by various craft people with their workshops; here there were also three merchants and one landlord. Carnicería Vieja counted innkeepers, cutlers, chair makers, barbers and grain merchants. Along Barrencalle resided cod, tallow, olive oil and spirit merchants, as well as, a number of carters. Notable families especially merchants and ship-brokers lived in Arenal, Barrencalle, Barrena, Bidebarrieta and Correo. Cinturería was the location of most of the taverns and it also hosted the largest shambles. While carpenters, painters, sculptors, fitters, brass makers, coppersmiths, locksmiths, sack-makers, postmen and iron merchants were amongst the residents of Ascao (quoted in Zabala Uriarte,1994).

Formation and take-off of an industrial port city The production of large ships went into rapid decline at the end of the sixteenth century and only smaller boats were constructed (Guiard Larrauri, 1917). A few larger vessels were built for the Carrera de Indias and most of the yards had shrunk and were no longer capable of engaging in elaborate projects. Skilled shipwrights migrated to French ports and there was a general reduction in the proportion of people at the ports engaged in all maritime activities, from fishing to fish curing to shipbuilding. The number of mariners at sea was also much lower (Zabala Uriarte, 1983). After 1750, the crown took a more active interest in matters nautical, especially in the conditions of the merchant marine, the navy, its harbours and their defences (Cámara Muñoz, 1998). A flood of legislation was enacted directed to addressing these deficits. The Royal Shipyard at Zorroa was rehabilitated as a centre for the building of mail ships for the colonies and merchant ships of all kinds (Rahn Phillips, 1986). Most of the construction activities developed in the traditional sites. The municipal authorities were obliged to provide better facilities in what were often regarded as public spaces. Towards the end of the eighteenth century, three yards functioned at Zorroa, one of which was the Royal Dockyard. It was by then a sophisticated utility and was, in part, vertically integrated. Here boats of up to 600 tons were constructed and virtually all the items required for construction could be supplied by the yard (Rivera Medina, 1998). On the east side of the ria, a complex of ancillary works emerged to service the increased demand for ships, a reflection of which was the appearance of a diverse range of craft guilds. There were foundries, rope-walks, rig- and sail-making facilities, an anchor works and an oar-making facility; indeed almost anything needed for shipbuilding was locally available. Duesto also re-emerged even earlier in the same century as a key locale for shipbuilding. Here were some auxiliary plants and new shipyards had developed at Plencia, outside the ria

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(see Figure 11.2). As confirmed elsewhere, commercial activities intensified at Bilbao during the century; it was not matched by a similar growth in shipbuilding activities, which authenticates that shipbuilding must not be regarded as a key economic barometer. An added dimension to the equation soon became manifest (Odriozola Oyarbide, 1996). Bilbao became a significant centre for boat sales; this may have been related to a growth in officially sanctioned privateering. A measure of its importance in this regard is evident from the fact that for every boat constructed and sold at Bilbao, seven older boats changed hands (Guiard Larrauri, 1913–14). Policy changes in relation to free trade, political economy and the management of the colonies all came to have diverse impacts on the ports of the peninsula (Rivera Martín, 1998, pp. 69, 77). The creation in 1774 of the Correos Marítimos entre España e Indias placed Corunna at the fulcrum of a network from Spain to Buenos Aires and Havana (Mariluz Urquijo, 1981). Likewise, the foundation of La Real Compañía Guipuzcoana de Navegación de Caracas, operating out of San Sebastián, temporarily reduced the vitality of some maritime activities on the Nervión (Estornes Lasa, 1948). The then ailing yards of Zorroa, once again because of their size, propinquity and former reputation, were revived to produce fast ships for these new lines and an out-office of Renta de Correos (whose headquarters was located at Corunna), was opened at Bilbao to oversee vessel building and sales. Many of the vessels built there during these years were called fragatas and some were later converted into mail boats [paquebotes]. The processes that propelled Bilbao’s rise as a critical Atlantic European port city can be instructively compared to what happened in South Wales and Glasgow (Checkland, 1977). Very few areas of Atlantic Iberia with a potential to achieve this kind of growth based on raw material extraction at that time prospered, and a clear example is the lower Guadiana valley focused upon Huelva (García, 1987). Huelva never became a Glasgow in spite of Rio Tinto. Raw materials in abundance, a compliant labour force and a vast potential labour pool that sustained external demands for goods, a merchant elite willing to risk investments in industry, banking and infrastructure were some of Bilbao’s striking advantages. Added clout was afforded by the arrival of the railways, which led to the strengthening of Bilbao’s ties with its wider hinterland. Critically, the geographical extension of its hinterland and all its implications were amongst the chief enabling factors that helped Bilbao to emerge as Spain’s premier Atlantic port city. Exactly what turned the tide in the favour of Bilbao is unclear. What is correct, for sure, is that it was not a planned outcome of merchant or municipal prescience. There is, nevertheless, a major analytical deficit here regarding the role of agents and actors. There were powerful cultural foundations, institutions and resources, which may have endowed Bilbao with an edge over its rivals. Scholarship does not concur on the sequential inputs to growth by the different elements in the jigsaw (Fernández de Pinedo, 1982; Flinn, 1955–56; Glas, 1997; Harrison, 1983). On a broader canvass, Bilbao could call upon an extraordinary rich maritime tradition, including long established trading networks, an openness to the outside world, and an industrial and productivist ethos founded upon mining, iron fabrication and ship construction. The role of inward investment, the transfer of expertise and technology still remains poorly understood. These assets facilitated the forging of expertise with a mercantile heritage based on the financing of trade embodied in its Consulado. It also had a municipal authority that gradually took up the task of outfitting the ria for ships and trade (Guimerá and Romero, 1996). Mines, miners and mining Inertia and other obstacles did not make it all plain sailing. Von Humbolt complained that most of the miners were simply part-time farmers; few had mining skills and they dug anywhere. The reason for their success was basically the fact that ore was so plentiful (Humbolt, 1925).

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The mines were the backbone of Bilbao’s success story. Although considerable quantities of ore were exported, it rarely exceeded, even in the 1850s, more than a few per cent of the value and volume of all the goods leaving the ports. At mid-century, grain exports were unusually high. Once Bessemer techniques for steel production captured widespread acceptance, they contributed to revolutionise Basque mining and many aspects of ore production (Fernández de Pinedo, 1974). The golden years of exploitation of the mines extended from 1870 to the end of the century, as the following example illustrates. In 1860, ore production was 70,000 tons; in 1877, it topped one million and at the end of the century it oscillated annually between five and six million tons. More than 90 per cent of this total was exported: England, Wales and Scotland accounted for at least two-thirds of the exported ore. Most of the deposits were located on the hills immediately around the settlement, often tantalisingly too far for easy pre-rail transport to the harbour at a time when traditional internal Spanish demand was weak or even static (see Figure 11.2 above). Basque ore’s superior grade and suitability for steel-making rendered it an excellent commodity to fill titanic supply deficits in England. Once railways were built, markets were plentiful; there was no other known ore deposit in Europe that could be exploited so cheaply with open cast methods being most characteristic. In this way, mining experienced a remarkable period of growth from c.1870 until the end of the century. Many of the families who invested in these ventures were Basque; there were also a handful of investors from other parts of the peninsula and several external ones (Glas, 1997). The contribution of local merchants mainly in the guise of moneylenders was of immense significance in the oiling of the settlement’s economic engine. As the volume of ore exports grew, foreign capital was not unsurprisingly attracted and gradually the ambit of foreign investment extended to include mine ownership and investment in infrastructure of all kinds even in land and property (Glas, 1997). Mixed investment companies with local and overseas participation were frequently to be found (Harrison, 1983). In fact, two of the most powerful and profitable mining companies were multinationals: Societé Franco-Belge des Mines de Somorrostro (1876) and the Orconera Iron Ore Company, which started operations in 1873 (Flinn, 1955–56). Deeply divergent views are evident regarding any assessment of the contributions and the role of foreign involvement in the emergence of Bilbao as major port and industrial hub. Some have argued that foreign capital invested was a covert for economic colonialism that facilitated foreign asset stripping and profit-taking (González Portilla, 1981). In the opinion of another researcher, the entire Bizkaian complex became an English-controlled economic enclave, as vitality depended on English demands for its products and raw materials (Puerta Rueda, 1994). Escudero (1986), foremost amongst others, has contended that foreign participation was more benign and that without such involvement the region’s success could not have been assured. The more measured approach of Glas (1997), who has conducted some fine business family archive research, convincingly illustrates the prevalence of complex commonplace partnerships and leasing arrangements evolving to finance the extraction, movement, processing and shipping of the ore. What remains unclear is the extent and impacts of foreign technological transfer. Railways Railways were another fundamental element necessary for commercial success (O’Brien, 1983). Essentially transport was required to bring the ore to the harbour. Harbour industries and railways were necessary to link Bilbao with its immediate hinterland, the rest of the Basque Provinces, the Meseta and Madrid, and with France. Not unlike some of the other success stories of nineteenthcentury port industrialisation, public funds were often welded to private ones to redress the major infrastructural deficits in the region. This practice reflected municipal and private concurrence

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on a vision of change (see Figure 11.4). If Bilbao was to be successful, in the harnessing of all of the settlement’s diverse opportunities, capital would be needed. The Triano railway represented the earliest and most spectacularly successful venture that linked the mines to the wharfs of the Ría de Bilbao. It began to function in 1865 and, within a decade, three other mining companies had followed suit and erected their own lines. It has been calculated that this short Triano line alone carried more than a third of the ore mined to the docks during the period of most intense exploitation (González Portilla, 1981).

Figure 11.4

Old and new Bilbao and its nineteenth-century ensanche. Adapted from Guàrdia et al., 1994, p. 219, Figures, 22 and 23

Some might argue that the relative isolation of the Basque Provinces from the rest of the peninsula has been, and still is, reflected in the intense nature of many of its residents’ attitudes towards their ethnogenesis. The advent of the railways, linking Bilbao with the remainder of the peninsula, was to have long-term cultural, demographic and economic implications. Basque goods flowed out, while teeming numbers of inmigrants circulated in the opposite direction, many speaking different languages and coming from such diverse backgrounds as Andalusia, Extremadura, Galicia and Portugal. All were anxious to participate in the city’s prosperity and success. Despite having been perceived very early as a sine qua non for the economic transformation of Bilbao, railways linking the region with the outside world were constructed very late. The first line to be built linked the Nervión to Tudela; it opened in 1863 allowing Riojan wines to reach the Atlantic and it also connected to Barcelona and Madrid. It did not achieve the ideals of its founders and subscribers. Rail movement eastwards was even more problematical. Bilbao was linked directly to San Sebastián and on to France only in 1907. The three separate rail companies who controlled the lines did not merge until 1906. Bilbao was not coupled to it main rival to the west until 1899 and the narrow gauge railway that linked onwards to Oviedo was not suitable for the transport of bulk goods. The fact that such an inadequate railway net was constructed may have represented unwillingness, on the part of the merchants, to work more actively together. The need to have effective quays, a deep water harbour, proper warehouses, an efficient means to move coal and

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ore from deposit locations to ships, practical dredging machinery, facilities for ship repair and ballasting have been long recognised as being amongst the fundamental requisites necessary to sustain a port. Most of these features were not in place at Bilbao until very late, that is after the 1880s (see Figure 11.5).

Figure 11.5

Bilbao c.1900: Railways, roads and mines. Adapted from Guàrdia et al., 1994, p. 219, Figure 23

Banking and finance Bilbao was the inheritor of a long and venerable tradition of financial services. In the past, it boasted of its merchants, their agents and their ‘houses’ located in some northern Atlantic ports. It was only after the mid-nineteenth century that a type of banking emerged that was capable of providing the kind of financial products required by the merchants, the shipbuilders, the mine owners and new industrialists. The first critical institution to be founded was El Banco de Bilbao in 1857. Soon afterwards, flexible credit societies were founded to assist a wide range of innovative projects with some degree of risk such as the Sociedad de Crédito Vasco (1861) and Comapañía General Bilbaína de Crédito (1862). At the same time, marine insurance companies were founded, such as La Bilbaína, La Unión and El LLoyd Vascongado. In 1861, seven separate insurance companies were in operation at the port. These basic financial services companies provided some of the liquidity necessary to facilitate and promote a general acceleration of Bilbao’s subsequent commercial and industrial growth. The period from 1825 to almost 1875 remains relatively unexplored; it was the era when, however sporadically, the ingredients for greater Bilbao’s explosive growth fused (Basas Fernández, 1961, 1967). It has been asserted that ore mining intensity and financial services were important at this time. Bilbao’s role as an exporter of agricultural products was often significant during this period and these kinds of activities brought prosperity to port and settlement (Glas, 1997). Bilbao, however, had other significant resources. Its merchants depended on their own shipping; they built up a considerable independent fleet and this was an asset that no other Spanish Atlantic port could

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then boast about (Valdaliso Gago, 1991). On or about mid-century, Bilbao had some 740 vessels registered; more than 50 percent of this tally did not exceed 80 tons (Glas, 1997). These smaller vessels were dedicated to inner Atlantic trade; whereas the larger ships had multi-purpose roles and plied all the seas of the globe. In addition, Bilbao counted other forms of cultural capital that its main rival Santander could not emulate. Its merchants did their transactions on their own accounts, they did not operate or hire representatives in their major trading partner ports, and hence business could be done more efficaciously, rapidly and profitably and, most significantly, locally. Early industrialisation By the beginning of the 1830s, several small light production units had emerged round Bilbao. Many were no more than bloated workshops. Others, more exceptionally, employed larger workforces. Nomenclature and definitions are the problems here and this critical issue cannot be quickly resolved. Likewise, it is all too tempting to invoke a proto-industrial explanation for subsequent spectacular achievement and success; there is no evidence as yet to sustain such a perspective (Glas, 1997). What is clear is that there were many of them, that they were of vastly different sizes and that they produced mainly for markets outside the Basque Provinces. Most notable, there was considerable variety in the productive activities of different plants. Many deployed low-level technologies for energy, as most used water-power. One of the key sectors of the Basque manufacturing sector to experience a sea change was iron and steel production. Its stories of failure and success were to lay the foundations for the ‘take-off’ of the area in the final quarter of the century. The traditional ferrerías were labour intensive and costly, and productivity was limited. The adoption of new founding techniques elsewhere on the peninsula in the 1830s convinced some Basque ironmasters that a secure future only lay in heavy investment in blast furnaces and ultimately integrated mills. The erection of brand new production units such as Santa Ana de Bolueta (1841) and El Carmen de Baracaldo (1855) led the way (García Merino, 1987). These were plants whose production capacity massively exceeded actual and potential provincial consumption demands so that a greater proportion of what they produced was exported. The failure of the national market to absorb increased output was related to the slow rate of mechanisation in the Spanish agricultural sector even after the initial exegesis of the railway boom (Glas, 1997). Like pre-1840 Ireland, the Basque Provinces, and Bizkaia in particular, counted many grain mills, most of whose produce was exported. No other part of the peninsula had so many. Before midcentury, millers were amongst the richest merchants; many of them were also deeply involved in the promotion of railways so the goods they traded could be moved around expeditiously. Shipbuilding had also prospered between 1830 to 1870 (González Portilla, 2001). Between Bilbao and Zorroa, there were almost ten active shipyards. Their relative prosperity encouraged the appearance of a welter of downstream chandelling and manufacturing units. These were, in the main, traditional yards that built trading boats. Their prosperity ended abruptly in 1868 when state fiscal policies suddenly switched to favour the construction of iron boats (García Merino, 1987, p. 371). Many other smaller production units were located to the east of Bilbao beside the Nervión in order to be able to capture the power of its many tributaries. While many of these units may have been small, what was critical was their growing diversity. Paper, chocolate, glass, tobacco, textiles, sugar and confectionery were among the principal items produced. It has been claimed that the transfer of the customs station to Bilbao from Orduña in 1840 and of the tolls in 1841 helped to foster the emergence of these small production units. The paradox remains that the languid and sceptical estimations of the vitality of Bilbao by many of its visitors in the early years of the century hardly prepares the investigator for understanding the relative economic buoyancy that became increasingly evident from the 1830s onwards, when

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some of the fundamental constituents for the Nervión’s subsequent achievements were laid down (Basas Fernández, 1967). Evidence from other sources also pinpoints the intensification of port activities (Frax Rosales, 1981). Surprisingly, agricultural exports up to 1869 were the most valuable; thereafter, there was a general increase in cereal, flour and ore exports. Even in the 1860s, food products tallied more than 60 per cent of the value of all exports. After that, the rate of increase of most key exports accelerated (Puerta Rueda, 1994). Until the mid-1870s, most exports went to Europe and the rest to the Americas; the proportions were 2:1 in favour of the former, sometimes even more. Commodities dispatched there with their added-value, such as preserved foods, commanded high prices. This meant that, in total, these exports were more valuable than those sent to northern Europe. Santander still had the march on American trade. Bigger boats could dock there, as its harbour had no sandbar obstructing it. The exact opposite was the case in relation to the quantity and value of Bilbao’s main imports; they were more diverse in origin and type than its exports. Over the third quarter of the nineteenth century, there were significant variations in the range and types of imports. In the mid-1860s, for instance, the abrupt rise of imports relates to the establishment of the railway and the opening of Castile to a flood of new products. Cod remained a key import from Scandinavia, as did wood. Colonial products, yarns for textiles, elegant timber and coal came from England, as did machinery. Some yarns emanated from the Low Countries, as did chemicals. Old reliables, such as sugar and tobacco, came from Cuba, while cacao arrived from Ecuador and Venezuela. The coasting trade also remained a pivotal dimension of the Nervión port’s activities; it too had marked spatial and structural components. First of all, much of this trade serviced the ports to the west of Bilbao as far as Vigo. Connections with the ports of Portugal and the Mediterranean were quite weak. Outward movements of goods by ship significantly exceeded movements in the opposite direction. Many of the goods, already mentioned as originating in the ports of northern Europe, were re-exported to the ports of northern Spain. Large quantities of wheat went to the ports of Andalusia while flour was sent to the ports of Cantabria. Major quantities of cocoa came to Bilbao from the ports of Asturias; colonial re-exports and fresh fish and vegetables came from Santander. Once again, the arrival of the railway line in the early 1860s saw an increased volume of wines from La Rioja, ladened on ships sailing west and across the Atlantic (Frax Rosales, 1981). Until the mid 1870s, Bilbao was exporting a preponderance of raw materials; it also acted as an entrepôt for some merchandise, and its connection to the national railway net in the 1860s reinforced the primacy of the port in northern Atlantic Iberia (Basas Fernández, 1961). How economically independent was the complex of activities that was effectively nourished by mining activities? Was its vitality, as has been asserted, simply a function of the London Metal Exchange? Was all this production no more than a source of raw materials for more efficient industries in foreign countries?

City and port from the mid-nineteenth century Extreme variation is the one characteristic shared by estimates of the size of Bilbao’s population in the nineteenth century (García Merino, 1987, p. 407). One of the key difficulties is the drawing of an imaginary line around the functional entity of greater Bilbao and its hopelessly minute legally defined settlement almost coincident with the casco viejo. It has been calculated that the population of greater Bilbao grew from 25,000 in 1797 to a total of 40,159 in 1857 (González Portilla, 1981). A decade earlier, the resident population of the core of the settlement reached a total of than less 20,000. The age-old problems of high population densities, congestion and deterioration in the quality of the buildings remained ingrained features. The casco viejo still acted as the hub of the

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settlement and it was composed of los siete calles, Las Riberas and its ensanche [extension] where two-thirds of the urban population resided in an area covering somewhat less than 14 very packed hectares (see Figure 11.4 above). In its three adjacent districts, there were some 5,859 residents. Most of the houses still counted three floors and many had garrets. This meant that, on average, each building counted four separate dwellings and consequently residential densities were very bloated, the average number of people per building being 25. An intimation of claustrophobic conditions is revealed by a census indicating that the casco viejo in 1869 had 526 buildings, divided into 1996 residences; in addition, there were 15 garrets and 52 shops. Housing conditions in the inner fringe of the settlement, that is in Las Riberas, were better and urban densities were lower. Within the ensanche of the town, housing was also superior; the stock was younger (see Figure 11.4 above). Overall, it was the area that was most sought after as an address (Fernández de Pinedo, 1974). Here lived some of the wealthiest professionals. It was no paradise for all its inhabitants. In this area, some 75 per cent of all the female domestic servants and more than half the total of male servants resided (García Merino, 1987). The most opulent households were then able to contract as many as three servants, and for these reasons urban densities were high in this most salubrious part of town. The mining settlements further out did not experience major growth and the most significant extra core developments were the building of the railway station and a bull-ring. By the 1870s, Algorta had become a preferred location initially for grandiose villa-style summer residences and later for the castellated abodes of the captains of commerce and industry. Portugalete too became another summer venue for the wealthy: this was a function that it was soon to share with other activities.

Golden years, c.1875–1914 In the 1870s, Bilbao had emerged to become one of the premier Atlantic port cities on the Cantabrican coast; then it was by no means primus inter pares. By the end of the century, it was the most dynamic and second largest industrial port city on the Iberian Peninsula. A telling reminder of its new status was the size of the fleet registered there. Most of it was the property of Bizkaian owners (Valdaliso Gago, 1998). The enabling processes that equipped Bilbao to attain this incredible success were complex and the interplay between all the elements involved is, as yet, by no means clearly understood (Rivera Medina, 1998). The contribution of religion and culture to this complex evolution has hardly begun to be investigated. Perhaps it would be wise to clarify what this discussion is about. Our task is to explain, so far as it is now possible, what were the processes promoting, and the consequences of, the gigantic transformation of the physical and social fabric of the settlement. It is also an objective to elucidate the influences of these changes on the development of the port and the socio-spatial fabric of the city. To meet some of these challenges, it is necessary to identify not simply the outcomes of changes, but also the reasons and the mechanics through which Bilbao achieved such a rapid and startling transformation. Bilbao as a nascent industrial centre had several major difficulties. The most obvious was its lack of an abundant energy source such as coal. Nonetheless, as we shall note, improved technological capacity allowed the city’s industrialists to avoid the problem. This accomplishment became manifest with the establishment of Bilbao as a major producer and exporter of iron and steel, through its half a dozen integrated plants, chiefly at Altos Hornos, San Francisco and La Viscaya. Their quick adoption of the Bessamer process permitted major energy savings to be achieved; it also meant a better quality end product. As the ore or bars were exported, coal came from England

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in the opposite direction, thus markedly reducing the costs. This gave the lower Nervión valley the edge over Asturias; it had plenty of coal but its deposits were located in difficult and inaccessible situations. Besides, Asturias recorded no significant ore deposits. These circumstances helped Bilbao to emerge as the fulcrum of heavy industry on the peninsula. The decade of 1875 to 1885 was the time when Bilbao was consolidating as a highly successful industrial inner Atlantic port city whose energies were based on ore export and production. The iron industry itself took a complex turn to equip itself to achieve profitability. It changed from being technologically an unsophisticated complex to one, at least for a time, which in the 1880s, was as advanced as anywhere else. In the early 1880s, both banks of the Nervión were traversed by railways that facilitated the expansion of Bilbao in a northerly direction towards the sea (see Figure 11.5 above). Branch lines connected the city to some of the main manufacturing centres in the heart of the province of Bizkaia. Commercial links developed between the railways and the ore transformers and a veritable host of downstream manufactories emerged to prosper. Surprisingly, a small oil refinery was sited on the river and a range of chemical industries was established, chief among them being an explosives plant. Shipping too expanded dramatically and although the initial tonnage registered at Bilbao and owned by locals was low, by the mid-1880s, 50 per cent of the ore was transported by locally registered vessels. The decade between 1875 and 1885 was indeed a singular benchmark: it has been estimated that 74 million pesetas can be documented as being inwardly invested (Glas, 1997). It laid the basis of a further tranche of investment in the same decade whose consequences were manifested in the building of several new shipyards and metal plants (García Merino, 1987). A symbol of the scale of transformation was the growth of metal production: it expanded some 20 per cent between 1876 and 1880, and over the next two decades it recorded a 60 per cent expansion. Bilbao was now amongst the most dynamic industrial port cities in southern Atlantic Europe. Its main challengers to the south were Barcelona and Genoa. Glasgow, Liverpool and Manchester were rivals to the north, as were also the ports and centres of the Rhine valley and Hamburg. Basque industrialists, always concerned about the supply of coal, were involved in the financing of mines in such relatively distant provinces as León. They even paid for new rail links from these areas to Bilbao. Indeed, this period of investment was one in which rail construction was prominent. It endowed the province of Bizkaia with the then highest rail track density on the peninsula. It marked a second phase of growth lasting until the mid 1890s and saw Bilbao open its own stock exchange where investments helped to energise the expansion of industry, employment and the unleashing of an urban building boom. The establishment of a Chamber of Commerce in 1886 was a critical indicator and, in this case, it was the successor to its venerable Consulado (Smith, 1978). A third and more ephemeral investment and expansion phase extended between 1898 and the outbreak of the Great War. There was, however a stock exchange failure some three years after the start of this phase (Torrente Fortuno, 1996). This period was marked by a drastic expansion of the financial services sector through the foundation of new banks and insurance companies, a further extension in fleet size, in shipbuilding and in repair capacity. Some important amalgamations between manufacturing units, as in paper production, took place. The effects of the default of the stock exchange were fortunately short-lived; most of the plants along the ria had real substance – they were solvent and they provided a basis for continued prosperity until the outbreak of major civil strife in the 1930s. In fact, the city’s financial sector enjoyed its most intense growth ever over the first years of the new century (Basas Fernández, 1967). Explosive increases were evident in the export of ore and finished metal products. Even more decisively, growth occurred in a wide range of manufactured exports stressing the degree to which the Nervión valley was industrialising; simultaneously, there was a startling decline in food exports.

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There were other vital spatial characteristics connected with exports, as before the raw material went chiefly to England, the manufactured goods invariably left to transatlantic markets. Nearly all the key imports were sourced from European ports chiefly in England and France; most of the imports were vital components for the new industries of the ria and beyond. The volume and value of merchandise involved in the coasting trade also grew larger. Again, outward movements of goods predominated. Coal still checked in top of the league, employed especially in chemical processes. The inward movement of spices and delicacies from the Americas was a confirmation of a growth of discriminating and wealthy palates. Going outward were finished metal products and steel. Given all of these startling and dramatic changes, it now remains to explore the impact they had on the physical and social fabric of the city. How did the planned an unplanned expansion of the city and the port shape its new social topography? Did all of these complex transformations lead to the evolution of a distinctive type of port city? Most difficult of all, what were the causal relationships enmeshed in all the manifestations of growth and which actors and agencies helped to contribute to Bilbao’s spectacular successes (Fernández de Pinedo and Hernández Marco, 1988)? Many large Spanish urban settlements acquired their ensanche during the nineteenth century (Sola-Morales Rubio, 1982). There is no exact replication of this word in English; in practical terms it means an extension. In many instances, the expropriation of ecclesiastical urban properties by the state and their sale early in the century offered a singular unrepeatable opportunity for urban redevelopment. The desmotizaciones [expropriations of church land] had a major influence on the nature and shape of nineteenth-century urban growth across Spain (Reguera Rodríguez, 1987). Of all the great settlements, Bilbao needed to physically expand, as it was ‘contained’ by rigid jurisdictional boundaries and intensely congested. In the case of Bilbao, a new central business disctrict was planned and constructed from 1880 onwards. The Nervión and a new railway station separated this from the historic core. By 1915, the core counted a population of c.27,000. Urban growth was also diffused through a spectrum of Bilbao’s suburbs and in its industrial, mining and port settlements. Essentially, the ensanche was riveted around a long and elegant boulevard called the Gran Via, which was cut by a plaza. Latched onto it was a checkerboard of regular block-like streets (see Figure 11.5 above). Many of the new buildings exceeded six stories. Ground floors were often the locales for retail and workshop units and upper floors were mostly residential. One ingredient of the economy that was able to transfer to this impressive and salubrious area was the financial services sector. Similarly, hotels and the main offices of a great many commercial companies found a new home in the spacious ensanche (Follaondo, 1969). The building of this area was not completed for some decades and it too was a growth-promoting catalyst considering the numbers of people employed and the demands that construction made for so many locally produced inputs. The height of the buildings in the ensanche of Bilbao is visually deceptive: they manage to obscure the contiguous hill tops from view and give the false impression of a very extensive and imposing agglomeration. The original and crowded ensanche was deliberately expanded subsequently on several occasions, as is apparent from the attachment of a succession of rectilinear blocks to the initial nucleus. Bilbao’s ensanche was a template of industrial achievements where sensitive planning created an ordered central cityscape to be enjoyed by the individuals whom Bilbao’s success had made prosperous. In complete contrast, the proletarian settlements sited further out from the core were not subject to planning controls and hence their housing conditions were elementary. Worse still were all aspects of housing and living conditions that were evident in the also expanding industrial and mining centres further out from the urban core. Here and there were to be found graceful summer villa residences of the captains of finance and industry at such places as Algorta and Neguri almost

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beside El Abra (see Figure 11.2 above). At the other end of an imaginary housing continuum were the mining settlements. Physically removed from the rest of the conurbation, they were reserves of horror as La Pasionaria’s eloquent pen-picture confirms: At night, their dwelling took on Dantesque dimensions. They were full of the smoke of the bitter tobacco used by the miners and dimly lit … it was an atmosphere [laden] with pestilence where the body odours of the men mixed with sweat and fermenting food, and the smell of the ammonia from urine and faeces … The clothes of the men bathed in a mixture of mud and sweat hung from nails over their beds with the friendly company of herrings and sardines, rancid fat, garlic cloves, onions and peppers collectively offering their flavours and smells (Ibarruri, 1965).

Conditions, by comparison to these described above, in port settlements along the ria and in the industrial settlements were enviable. Less than a mile away, across the river perched on the dainty hills of Algorta and Neguri were the villa-palaces and tea-houses of the captains of progress, which were paradise compared to the torments of the places described by Dolores Ibarruri. Linked both by river and by railways, a miscellany of settlements focused on Bilbao, and extending above and below were a necklace of minor hubs effectively emerging into one of Atlantic Iberia’s rare instances of a conurbation – the other being the Oporto/Gaia zone. Bilbao’s historiography by comparison with other Iberian Atlantic port cities is comprehensive. It is one of the few port cities where pertinent research has addressed the evolution and structure of the town’s business classes (Glas, 1997). Industry and a massive expansion of the financial services sector were ingredients that profoundly transformed the class structure of the older more commercial and mercantile port city. There was no proletariat before industrial production became important, that is after mid-century. Towards the century’s end, stratification both within and between different classes had intensely sharpened and these structural divisions were replicated and deeply spatially embedded (García Merino, 1987). At the pinnacle of the social realm were the steel barons whose financial interests extended to many aspects of the urban engines of change such as banking, shipping and mining (González Portilla, 1981). These were a minute but extremely élite group who intermarried and whose financial ascendancy was so far ahead of the nearest merchant group that they were like a constellation vertiginously slipping outside the solar system. There was also another powerful merchant group who held vested interests in the mines or ships. Some of Bilbao’s outstanding professionals could also be included here. More numerous, but not by any means as wealthy, as the cusp of the merchant class, they still could wield considerable power and influence; they were deeply involved in the routine round of politics. The final élite group recognised by García Merino (1987) consisted of the major wholesalers, major retailers, minor merchants and a host of educated officials. Lack of capital meant that this diverse group could not live ostentatiously in villas outside the centre. They had to be content to reside in the higher stories of the dwellings of substance within the ensanche or in the more congested circumstances of the siete calles. Employees were the bedrock of the middle class. Paid poorly for their work, many lived beyond their means, often in the highest floors of the ensanche or in the casco viejo. Yet this class grew considerably during the best years of expansion, obliging many to settle in less convivial housing in the settlements on the outskirts of Bilbao. The makers and menders, or what was left of the traditional trades after technological innovation, still formed a recognisable group. The proletariat was the largest and newest group. True, before industrialisation there were porters, water carriers and peddlers; factory production demanded new sorting arrangements. Factory workers were often the sons of miners or, of inmigrants from other parts of the Basque Provinces or even further afield. Riven by internal divisions, their positions were the envy of most other members of this class and the miners were regarded with least esteem, largely because of

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their working conditions. Beyond them were the unemployed and unemployable, whose lifestyles and housing conditions are difficult to imagine. This effectively unskilled producer group was a key component of the new Bilbao. In the 1850s and the 1860s, the consistent rivalry between the ports of Bilbao and Santander intensified. Both shared a number of common characteristics; their divergences soon afterwards laid the basis for the eventual pre-eminence of Bilbao. Both ports vied for the extensive hinterland in Castile, Logroño and even as far west as the province of Lugo. Of the two, Santander counted superior physical advantages. It had a sheltered deep-water harbour that offered excellent shipping manoeuvrability. By comparison, at Bilbao, the sandbar at Portugalete remained a major obstacle for ships, the interior quays were poor, the channels were often badly maintained and ships were encumbered by problems linked to silting and space for turning. The railways, once established, made major impacts and turned the tide in favour of Bilbao. Conditions at the port were the key for a successful recipe for success. In 1872, a new agency was founded to more effectively and efficiently manage the port. It was formed at the behest of the bankers, industrialists, merchants, mine-owners, ship-owners and shipbuilders. Because of the intense movement of ships through the port, it was quickly mandated to initiate some of the works that had been both the dreams and nightmares of many, in an effort to remove or modify some of the principal navigational impediments. Under the expert tutelage of engineer Churruca, within three years, the so-called Junta de Obras del Puerto y Ría de Bilbao had finally solved the problem of the ancient sandbar at Portugalete. This Junta was a successor of the Consulado, founded in 1511, which had served the merchants so well during the ‘Golden Age’ and had contributed to the management of the harbour and the wool trade (Guiard Larrauri, 1913–14). It was finally dissolved in 1823. Given all its attributes, the Junta had a complex harbour to manage (Figure 11.2). It was 14 km long and composed of three discrete sectors, each of which, needless-to-say, had its own peculiarities. The upper part of the Nervión extending approximately 3 km on either side of the siete calles acted as the commercial port. The industrial port zone stretched from Portugalete inwards and finally, at the mouth of the ria, El Abra and El Puerto Exterior was little more than a dangerous roadstead for ships (Puerta Rueda, 1994). Once the outer pier was constructed, the significance of the El Abra diminished. The dangers of the deceptive Abra for ships are best appreciated today by the careful scrutiny of ship’s sonar while approaching the coast today. Within the space of a few hundred metres, the submarine contours suddenly rise. One has only to speculate on how these conditions would influence wave formation in the more relatively confined space of the El Abra. The Junta managed most aspects of the port’s development. Its interesting archives do not indicate that the different sectors of the port were administered separately, contrary to the implicit thrust of a recent publication (Puerta Rueda, 1994). Some researchers have asserted that welltimed bursts of provision of port facilities represent sure signals of prosperity and increased traffic throughput. That was not always an axiomatic connection. Infrastructure could often remain a white elephant. The Junta, however, was actively improving most aspects of the of the port’s facilities. In the commercial port, for instance, many quays were extended and cobbled, dredging allowed larger vessels further up the harbour, better and bigger cranes improved loading and unloading was also improved. New stores and sheds were built, the placing of buoys of all kinds, and especially the lighting of the port, made for more efficient and safer management. Despite all their efforts, conditions at the commercial and the industrial port could still be described as cluttered, even at the end of the century. Coal, for instance, was frequently stored on small barges until it could be carried to its local destination because space was at such a premium. Likewise, larger trading vessels had to be berthed to buoys on the river as quay space was insufficient. Worse still, items such as

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coal were regularly ferried by people, often women. Bilbao and its port may have experienced an economic transformation, but many of its residents derived few of its benefit.

Overview It would be impossible to furnish a comprehensive explanation of the transformation of this complex port city given the range and complexity of processes that orchestrated its exegesis. It is pertinent to note its long-term role as a key port of Castile. Its status as exento, tax-wise and the contribution of its Consulado were all important, especially in the early stages of its evolution. Confirmation that it remained congested and crowded is acknowledged by the cartographic record, the comments of its authorities and prescient visitors. It survived and often thrived as a traditional commercial and mercantile port city well into the nineteenth century. The processes responsible for, and all the implications of its later prosperity are less easily identifiable and considerable dispute revolves around how the changes ought to be interpreted (Fernández de Pinedo, 1974; Glas; 1997). Surprisingly, most of the interlocutors of Bilbao’s post-mid-nineteenth century growth – with few exceptions – mention its port and its Atlantic context (Puerta Rueda, 1994). Some argue that the Bilbao story is that of a peripheral enclave, ephemerally animated to serve the needs of an insatiable English market. Bilbao’s energies were not quickly dissipated like some remote resource-rich area. Its general demise is of more modern vintage. The crunch question for some is what fuelled the explosive changes, especially in the post-1875 period? Did mining pay for industrialisation or was mining a side-show in that most of the ore produced in the region continued to be exported? Can prior proto-industrialisation be invoked as a prerequisite for later events, as Glas (1997) proclaims? An insistence on such a chain of events fails to indicate why Bilbao’s industrial evolution was so late given that all the necessary conditions were in situ for such a long time. In what way did the culture of the elite Basque families contribute to what happened? Central to what did take place were the sea and the long-standing complex relationships that had evolved between this extraordinary nation and the wider world, which were mediated through its necklace of ports, their merchants and seafarers from early times (ITSAS, 1996, 1998). It is worth noting that the port of Bilbao, even at the end of the nineteenth century, had sustained and expanded many other functions that were neither linked to mining nor to ore-related industries. All together, it was this spectrum of activities, which had taken centuries to consolidate and subject to many vicissitudes that helped Bilbao to become and remain the largest seaport city between Bordeaux and Oporto, and Atlantic Spain’s only industrialised metropolitan port.

Conclusions The time period considered in this work stretches over five centuries. It engages with the fortunes of two very different states and the distinctive platforms they established to consolidate and sustain their commercial empires. It is a study of some essential elements of the Cis-Atlantic realm, namely port cities and the trading conjunctures and political economies that helped to shape their functional, morphological and social evolution. In attempting a comparative analysis, there is always the hazard of being swamped by the complexities and the details of change at individual sites or by the very uneven nature of what scholarship has already achieved. It has been necessary to deal with a vast edifice of interactions in order to establish how they have impacted on port locales. Even more has had to be omitted such as the insititutions and voices of the residents of these ports. At centre stage has been trade and the human and physical infrastructures that supported commercial enterprise. To examine the ports and the trade associated with them, it has been indispensable to probe the relationships that the ports maintained with the regions where they are located, and this has involved tracing the flows of luxury goods, raw materials and manufactured items to the ports for processing and packing for export or re-export. This has facilitated the identification of their changing hinterlands. In addition, it has been necessary to reveal and to unravel the transatlantic forelands of the goods moving in the opposite direction. The political economies constructed by both Portugal and Spain had deeply pervasive effects on all aspects of port development on the peninsula and even more so across Ibero-America and in discrete areas of the Indian and the Pacific Oceans. The administrations of both states were, from the early sixteenth century, besotted with the notion of monopolies. Trading monopolies were, of course, an ancient device to permit a state to control many aspects of human mobility and trade. They involved pre-empting of other states aspirations to open direct trading links with Iberian overseas possessions. The monopoly allowed states to tax goods at the exclusive point of entry, which was, of course, the designated metropole. Furthermore, monopoly policy authorised states to regulate, through their filtering institutions, the movement of not only goods such as bullion, salt, spices and tobacco, but also people. (Slaves, too, were part of a different monopoly – the asiento – an expression of a languid state administration.) As a transoceanic instrument, exclusive American ports, such as Havana and Veracruz, were designated as hubs and entrepôts and essentially they acted as metropoles. Early monopoly policy specified that transoceanic hubs could not trade directly with each other and could only do so via their American metropolitan hubs. Transoceanic hubs such as Havana also acquired significant defensive portfolios as bulwarks facing down the attentions of greedy competitors. Portugal and Spain’s land-based and oceanic empires differed enormously. For almost a century, Portugal imposed a hegemony of sorts on a series of sophisticated continental and islandbased trading nations. Naval supremacy underwrote their dominions; they never attempted to conquer these societies. Shortages of people ensured that there was no significant mass Portuguese settlement anywhere in the Indian Ocean. Spain conquered her main land-based rivals in the New World, many of whom were transformed into indentured mine-workers. Spain’s ability to impose her writ of conquest was seldom seriously disputed. Her land-based borders were always extremely porous and they were only seriously challenged in the Caribbean.

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Likewise, defending and sustaining the Carrera de Indias was a constant dilemma for Spain; it was, after all, the maritime embodiment of the monopoly. A convoy system achieved some successes between c.1550 and the early 1700s. A naval and military edifice was constructed to protect and sustain the Carrera. It involved a lot more than ships alone. It embraced the assembling of men and materiel and their dispatch from the metropole (Goodman, 1997). It involved the construction of arsenals and naval centres, the outfitting of ships, supplying garrisons on both sides of the Atlantic and the arrangement of convoys. The entire enterprise was almost a national endeavour; it was mainly concentrated amongst the Atlantic communities of Spain where these resources were available in profusion. There were other important elements to the monopoly: slaves, the intensification of colonial mining, shipping company foundation, and there were specific monopoly practices for mercury, salt and tobacco. There were the trading-cum-shipping companies mainly established in the first half of the eighteenth century. The government attempted to return the shipping of colonial Spanish goods and Spanish re-exports into Spanish hands. There were the textile factories that were designed to create employment on the peninsula and flood colonial markets with Spanish goods. There were hosts of interdictions on colonial-based merchants and consumers buying foreignproduced merchandise. In the end, these conventions only stoked the fires of colonial alienation. In Portugal, the contours of monopoly policies and their implications remain to be addressed by scholarship. The emergency measures expedited by Pombal to reinvigorate the economy and to side step the strictures of the Methuen Treaty endowed the monopoly with a new lease of life. His efforts brought, at least, a half-century of prosperity back to Lisbon. Some economic historians argue that like the Spanish colonial frontier, the monopoly was often very permeable and that, allied with fraud and concealment, much escaped the clutches of an avaricious state, especially bullion and jewels. It would be nonsensical to assert that the monopoly was imposed with standard vigour for over 250 years and we await a detailed study of its long career. Our primary concerns relate to monopoly impacts upon the port settlements of the peninsula and laterally its influence on the evolution of the Iberian urban hierarchy. It has been demonstrated that designation of exclusive trading metropoles has had seismic and durable implications for port settlements in both states and also on both sides of the Atlantic. Free trade did not usher in a sudden trading equalisation; old unconformities remained intact for several decades in Spain between metropole and its other peninsular Atlantic ports. These ports initially did not have the merchants, expertise or capital to fully engage in transatlantic trade. Colonial independence, the burgeoning commercial power of the United States coupled with political turmoil and economic decline on the peninsula combined to deal a major blow to Lisbon and a mortal wound to Cádiz. It also precipitated a reconfiguration of Spain’s port and urban hierarachy, especially in Atlantic Europe. In Portugal, Lisbon, as state capital and emerging national railway and manufacturing hub, managed to retain and consolidate its premier position. The Spain of Charles V was a very different country from that fashioned by his son Phillip II. It was part of an extensive and unwieldy European land-based empire. Charles’s designation of Seville as exclusive metropole was to have wide and unforeseen repercussions for Spain and especially for the evolution of its port and urban fabric. It led to the emergence of a skewed urban hierarachy that readjusted during the nineteenth century under free trade. Rapidly, over the early decades of the sixteenth century, Seville assumed pole position in the Spanish urban league, displacing more sedate and venerable settlements such as Toledo and Valladolid. The unambiguous relationship between its metrople status and startling urban growth has been demonstrated here. It held on to this position only to be overtaken in the early decades of the next century by the new capital Madrid. Still, Seville claimed second position for a further two centuries when Barcelona

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emerged as a major industrial centre and, later in the nineteenth century, it conceded its place in the Spanish urban league to the emerging ports such as Bilbao, Santander and Valencia. In crude demographic terms, there is a strong correlation between demographic expansion and exclusive metropole designation in the cases of the three Iberian metropoles. The metropoles also displayed a host of other similarities during their respective careers. All of the Iberian metropoles were in fact a series of port complexes, each of which was dominated by one major centre. Seville acted as the premier port on the Guadalquivir as far as Sanlucar de Barrameda and onwards to the Canaries. Likewise, the Bahía de Cádiz boasted of many small but not unimportant ports such as El Puerto de Santa María, Puerto Real and later San Fernando beside which there was the arsenal of La Carraca. Finally, Lisbon had a necklace of ports within its harbour, among them Almada, Barreiro and Seixal. Many of these anteports or outports could boast of the presence of small numbers of foreign merchant communities, some of whom traded directly with New World centres and this was especially the case around the Bahía de Cádiz. The forelands of the leading metropoles were truly global. They linked the mines of Mexico and Peru in the Pacific with Manila, Macau and Nagasaki and in the Atlantic with Brazil, North and West Africa, Atlantic Europe, the Mediterranean and beyond. This was the case during the sixteenth century, at times during the seventeenth and also during most of the eighteenth century. The Portuguese and Spanish carreras overlapped and intertwined during the sixteenth century on the leading Iberian-controlled European archipelagos. Indeed, the ports on these islands might well be considered as specialised anteports. The early spectacular development of the economies of these islands and the urban growth that ensued owes nearly everything to the emergence of a transatlantic economy. Economic decline on these islands reflects the enforcement of more inflexible monopoly rules as much as changes in ship types or modifications in convoy arrangements. Defensive investments at the metropoles were without precedent on the peninsula (Mas Hernández, 2003). The elaborate walls of Seville and the long approach up the Guadalquivir offered comforts not available at Cádiz or Lisbon. The English sack of Cádiz in 1596 was a reminder of its exposed situation and while it may have wounded Spanish pride, it served as a stimulus to the authorities to make heavy investments in defence. Soon, no other settlement on the peninsula was endowed with such a battery of defence capabilities that were able to deter serious assault for centuries. Lisbon was even more fortunate. Solid batteries at the harbour entrance were all that was required: they were erected on the orders of Philip II during Spanish occupation. Urban planning seems to have been adopted at all of the metropoles at an early stage in their careers, but the extent of district planning was extremely variable and usually small scale. Lisbon’s Barrio Alto was an early sixteenth-century instance, as was the colación of San Vicente at Seville. At Cádiz, planned expansion was pervasive in concert with defensive construction. The urbanisation of Cádiz was a unique achievement for its time on the peninsula. Military and naval authorities in tandem with civic institutions fashioned a carefully planned settlement. Interspersed with residential blocks were military positions, arsenals and barracks transforming the entire settlement into a fortress. The fruits of this successful collaboration were transferred to Havana, which became a transatlantic mirror of Cádiz. In this way, like Rome and Carthage before, Cádiz and Havana, at least during most of the eighteenth century, can be though of as ‘mirror cities’, in that they shared many features and functions that were reflected in their morphologies. Breakpoint, entrepôt and hub are all suitable epithets that can be applied to vital functions of the metropoles under consideration. They were the physical link between the foreland and hinterland, but there were subtle differences between them. Cádiz was an entrepôt par excellence as were the smaller ports of the Atlantic archipelagos. Most of the colonial merchandise and the bullion landed were re-exported. Cádiz’s local market was minute and it had no immediate hinterlands. By contrast, Seville and Lisbon were prime breakpoints and entrepôts in nested urban metropolitan

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areas. Both possessed extraordinarily rich and extensive hinterlands and they acted as hubs of regional, later national importance for terrestrial communications. These metropoles and their respective hinterlands acted as major markets for imported colonial goods. More importantly, they functioned as critical supply zones for many raw materials that were assembled at the ports to be dispatched later to the colonies and elsewhere. All of the metropoles shared the role of collection points for ship-delivered raw materials and manufactured goods sent from other ports on the peninsula or other northern European ports and less often Mediterranean ones. Over the centuries, these hinterland functions were a constant and never failed. Indeed, they cushioned the metropoles from the consequences of the erosion and loss of colonial trade. Apart from linking foreland and hinterland, these metropoles discharged another important role: they acted as the premier peninsular shipping hubs assembling raw materials and foreign manufactured items for export. They were assembly points for seamen and would-be migrants and redistribution centres for staples such as cod and olive oil. The Oporto–Lisbon relationship during the eighteenth century was more complex. Both ports were almost stand-alone commercial centres and the volume of trade between them was weak. Metropoles also acted as redistributive centres for all kinds of colonial goods that were dispatched around the peninsula and to other European ports. Substantial employment was afforded in the metropoles by these varied port functions. Lisbon differed from all the other metropoles and ports. From a very early date, it acted as state capital and this role undoubtedly added a major dimension to its diverse functional base. Briefly challenged for pole position by Oporto in the late eighteenth century, its capacity to attract manufacturing industry and act as a national hub for the rail network meant that it witnessed the emergence of a ‘modern’ financial sector. These functions collectively provided Lisbon with an edge that saw it outpace its rival, double in size and free itself from the threat of any further assault on its primacy. While Lisbon may have lost pre-eminence in the Brazil trade after colonial independence, it still acted as a leading conduit for that trade with Europe and it soon discovered the trading potential on offer from African colonies. In the latter half of the nineteenth century, it was evident that the port had lost its role as the most critical urban function. The growth of manufacturing and service sectors and their footloose nature witnessed many facilities spread out to new positions on the salubrious and spacious boulevards that now linked the centre with areas that were formerly outer suburbs. Unlike the other metropoles, Lisbon was able to defend its premier position largely on the basis of functional substitution and its role as state capital further solidified its position. How different were the societies that emerged in the metropoles from those that developed in the second tier and other settlements? It is clear that distinctive societies evolved in the metropoles and to a much lesser extent in other ports. Merchants of foreign origins were an outstanding element. They maintained extended transoceanic commercial networks across many ports in Europe and the Atlantic, and their family links were equally strategically dispersed. Many in these groups ran successful businesses from their home addresses and they also employed a host of foreign nationals (usually from their own country of origin), ranging from accountants, bookkeepers, cooks, majordomos, pages, scribes, servants, tellers and translators. Most of these people worked and slept under the same roof as their bosses. This group of service providers formed a small but highly distinctive element of society. There was also a more inflated group of indigenous merchants, many of whom were formerly artisan producers. A military, naval and engineering faction was another abundant group and it included people serving in all ranks, many of whom lived with their families in purpose-built accommodation. Large garrisons were a feature of the metropoles and there was also always a floating population of military personnel moving out to colonial service or returning from similar activities. The leading regulatory agencies also directly employed a host of both skilled and unskilled personnel and even

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more part-timers were contracted to these agencies, many of whom were highly educated and literate and often trained as lawyers. Many merchants also doubled as financial contractors, but the leading ports also counted a small but influential element that served as bankers and insurance agents. The seafarers and their families constituted another discrete faction and often lived in particular suburbs, as at Triana in Seville and Nuevo Mundo in Cádiz. There was also an extraordinary range of artisans. An elite element were foreign born, catering for the decorative requirements of the most opulent merchants, the military-naval edifice and extremely wealthy secular clergy. At the other end of the spectrum, there were a disproportionate number of semi-skilled artisans who were as often employed as unemployed. The numbers dedicated full-time to the service of God did not differ substantially from tallies in similar seized settlements. There were occasionally small communities of foreign-born monks and priests exclusively attached to particular parishes, as was the case with the Italian Dominicans at their parish church at Lisbon. People involved in all aspects of dispatch and transport formed another large element of society. Here, as elsewhere, the borderline between different occupational groups was often quite blurred, as many artisans were employed in packing and dispatch, for instance, those involved in coopering. Makers and sellers of luxury items were another feature of the metropoles and in many instances the same individual occupied both roles. Confectioners, embroiderers and textile producers were all active supplying the upper end of the market. Slaves were also an extremely numerous element in the populations of sixteenth-century Lisbon and Seville, perhaps counting as much as a fifth of the entire population. They were still an element in eighteenth-century Cádiz society, although their numbers were minute. There was a huge underbelly of unskilled and destitute people at the metropoles who had arrived to make their fortunes and whose totals were always extremely variable. Little light can be shed on the occupations of women, as they were excluded from the censuses and most official reports. A few were prominent in business and in some urban districts they were a majority, given their husbands were away at sea. It seems that in the case of both Seville and Cádiz, there were few nobles present and the situation at Lisbon is unclear. While many of the constituent fractions that have been discussed here were present in many other settlements, it was their larger proportions in the functional, social and structural configuration of the port cities that made their presence in the metropoles a distinctive attribute. Over the extended period under consideration, their proportions would have waxed and waned during times of prosperity or decline, but the etiquette of the monopoly always ensured that they would be a vital social ingredient in times of affluence. Another feature shared by the metropoles was their ability to act as transit points for people moving in both directions. Some, such as Columbus, took up residence at Seville or Lisbon. Enormous numbers of individuals passed through and an entire infrastructure sprung up to support them, such a suites of accommodation and those who passed them fit and suitable for travel. These movements involved much more than people alone, they encompassed ideas and idealisms that were diffused in both directions. Huge numbers congregated at the metroples from all over Iberia and beyond in search of their fortunes there or overseas. This helped to make the metropoles the most heterogeneous settlements on the peninsula as they drew in people from every region and all walks of life. There were also more foreign-born residents recorded in the metropoles than in any other type of settlement on the peninsula. They were centres of diffusion, reception and re-diffusion and they were amongst Europe’s leading epidemiological centres from what little we know about the historiography of plagues. The cultural roles of these settlements remains, as yet, almost totally unexplored. It was in this sense that these centres can be regarded as cosmopolitan. A dimension of cosmopolitanism is revealed by the importation of new architectural styles, decorative techniques and novel embellishments deployed in both public buildings, especially churches and private residences. Many of the materials involved originated outside the peninsula

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often in Holland or Italy. Precious timbers were often of colonial origin. Conversely, disaster as at Lisbon, inspired the import of Austro-Hungarian architectural prototypes through the aegis of the architect and designer Mardel. Private philanthropy usually provided the motor for these exotic borrowings. Lavish coats of arms or marble pillars often adorned exterior facades, and the sumptuous use of exotic wood for staircases and landings were commonplace amongst the wealthy merchants. Many also ‘imported’ master-craftsmen, artists, decorators and embellishers from France and especially Italy. We know a lot less about the actors, opera singers and musicians hired by the rich and famous to temper the monotony of routine life. We hardly comprehend anything about what the collisions of these diverse cultures fashioned in terms of dress, food and lifestyle. A 1773 census at Cádiz reveals the presence of cooks coming from at least ten national backgrounds as well as from all regions on the peninsula. In fact, the pecking order of the super-rich was manifested in the numbers and types of servants they employed and especially in the national origins of their cooks. The presence of a cadre of super-wealthy people facilitated the emergence of a raft of occupations that mainly satisfied their whims and excessive affluence. Collectively, the presence of these diverse ethnic and occupational elements provided the port metropoles with a cultural diversity not evident elsewhere on the peninsula. What has been established about the distinctive morphologies of these port metropoles? All are amongst the oldest urban settlements in Atlantic Europe and all may owe their origins to the Phoenicians, as they spread their commercial enterprise across the Mediterranean into the Atlantic. It is difficult to assign building cycles in the centres to particular products cycles or mix of product trading booms. Nevertheless, a strong case can be made for linking metropolitan status with massive physical and population growth. Up to at least the middle of the nineteenth century, most of the physical growth materialised in an uncoordinated and unplanned manner. Municipal management authorities chose many of the sites selected for major public buildings. Whatever planning occurred in the sixteenth or the seventeenth centuries was largely a product of ecclesiastical initiatives as at Lisbon’s Barrio Alto or Seville’s colación of San Vicente. Cádiz and Lisbon during the eighteenth century witnessed, for different reasons, close collaboration between the military and municipal authorities. At Cádiz, a fine-tuned and sequenced partnership between these authorities produced a series of ‘fixation-lines’ – los cordones, making it one of the finest, largest and most contained planned settlements on the peninsula. Here the pace of urban expansion was dictated by trading growth. After the earthquake of 1755, it was Lisbon’s turn to embark on a planned reconstruction once again involving very close cooperation between the military and municipal authorities. Their work effectively led to the insertion of a new urban core. It left a major unconformity between it and adjacent undamaged parts of the urban fabric. Originally the plan for reconstruction had been more ambitious and expansive; finance, however, quickly dried up. The immense cartobibliography of the metropoles, besides revealing stages in their morphological evolution, also illustrates what their sponsors wanted. Seville had to wait until 1778 for Lopez’s excellent detailed portrayal long after it had lost it metropole functions. The prints of Georg Braun (1541–1622), Anton van Wyngaerde (1525–71), Jan Linschoten (1562–1611) and Georg Hoefnagel (1535–90) depict a city bursting at the seems with activity. Lisbon was first mapped accurately by Tinoco in 1650 and his map provides us with a detailed impression of its morphology. By contrast, Cádiz must count as the most thoroughly mapped settlement on the peninsula and it is the only metropole where a dedicated attempt has been made to produce a scale model that provides an excellent overview of its urban contours. The state, in both Portugal and Spain, became quickly ‘fixated’ in its attempts to control, or at least manipulate, commerce, and it went to great pains to devise and implant a regulatory trading framework. Besides being an effort to control merchant enterprise, it was a means to fill the state coffers according to the principle of least effort. Over the study period, the state abdicated

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its responsibilities in relation to investing in the physical infrastructure needed to sustain trade. It left these kinds of initiatives to merchants and municipal authorities who did not have vast financial resources at their disposal nor the expertise to deliver them. Neglect accounts, then, for the shambolic conditions of the harbours and ports of the metropoles. Defence certainly saw active state investment, but that was it. Again, it is true that lighting, water provision, paving and waste disposal were left to the municipal authorities. Here there are many recorded failures, especially relating to sanitation, flooding and control of outbreaks of infectious diseases right up to the end of the nineteenth century. Notable successes were, however, notched up in relation to sanitation at Cádiz and at Lisbon when the viaduct at Alcântara was completed. Harbour approaches and their maintenance, by contrast, were abysmal. Representations of the Sevillian waterfront during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries depict chaotic scenes of congestion, and boats could only be turned with great difficulty. Seville counted no proper docks, no adequate port facilities, and crowding of all kinds were the order of the day. By the late sixteenth century, the Ribeira das Naus at Lisbon had taken on the aura of a teeming dockside with ships having to unload cargoes in the estuary, and lighters achieved their transfer to deficient wharfs. At Lisbon, the contradiction was even greater: sited beside the inadequate docks was a sumptuous royal palace, monumental maritime regulatory agency buildings and government ministries and the cities most recurred-to ceremonial civic space. Plans for the reconstruction of Lisbon after the earthquake likewise failed to address the port deficits, and even to this day, the port remains the great problematic of this fine port city. Likewise at Cádiz, where so much effort, expertise and investment was put into its urbanisation and defence, its port was a Cinderella. The state paid cartographers, engineers and architects handsomely for their efforts in the provision of defence improvements. It never really engaged in port provision despite the constant demands of the various trading constituencies. Only towards the mid-nineteenth century, long after the suppression of the metropole status for Seville and Cádiz, were local civic agencies confirmed with the authority to deliver major ports improvements. The most puzzling aspect of the commercial evolution of the metropoles was the slow and highly piecemeal appearance of a financial infrastructure (Bernal, 1993). Research has indicated important results relating to the finance of trade, much less has been accomplished on the nature of the financial infrastructure available in the ports. In this regard, so little is known about conditions, especially at Lisbon. In the sixteenth century, Italian financiers stole the march, especially at Seville, and the Genoese were by far the most prominent. It has been argued that, during the eighteenth century, Cádiz was a financial exclave of Amsterdam while Lisbon displayed a similar dependence in relation to London, even despite the efforts of Pombal. While complex trading instruments evolved over time at the ports, it was the merchant representatives of Dutch financial institutions that supplied much of the cash and underwrote many commercial transactions. Banks did exist, but it seems that few managed to remain liquid for more than a decade before the late eighteenth century. Banking and marine insurance only really emerged at these ports late into the nineteenth century and no doubt the emergence of mass travel from these ports was an important catalyst for this departure. What was distinctive about maritime commerce at the metropoles was the extraordinary intense level of public participation in the trading financial provision and the elevated amount of small-scale speculative investments. All of the activities created an entire bureaucratic class of accountants, public notaries, scribes, tellers and translators. Despite the contorted, restrictive and idiosyncratic nature of the financial sector that underpinned the American enterprise at the metropoles, several attributes mark out them out as distinctive. No other settlements on the peninsula gathered together so many foreigners involved in trade. There were also an enormous number of indigenous peninsular buyers and sellers outnumbering those at other settlements in Iberia. The metropoles witnessed significant evolution and innovation in the

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legal instruments and processes that governed colonial trade. Finally, rates of participation by all classes in colonial trade were much more intense than in other settlements on the peninsula. Metropoles, however, enjoyed poor terrestrial communications within their national territories until the mid-nineteenth century, and this was also true for Lisbon. Clearly, they exercised a hegemonic commercial role over their immediate hinterland. In the case of Seville, this immense area included most of the lower Guadalquivir River valley, and for Lisbon, a large area of Ribatejo and Alentejo. But that was all; Cádiz’s influence ended long before Jerez de la Frontera. Most of the interactions between the metroples and the rest of the peninsula were by sea. Indeed, two examples might suffice. The Lisbon–Algarve trade was by sea and Portugal’s trade with Spain was predominantly maritime. It was not until the arrival of the railways that from the 1850s onwards overland bulk transport could compete successfully with shipping. Lisbon quickly emerged as Portugal’s railway hub; Cádiz and Seville occupied peripheral locations on the emerging Spanish railway net. Before the mid-nineteenth century, terrestrial inter-regional communalisations in both Portugal and Spain were, as has been noted, dire to non-existent; the metropoles conducted the overwhelming bulk of their colonial re-export trade via the sea. They were also the assembly points where exports of raw materials, foreign sourced exports, migrants, soldiers and priests arrived by sea to embark on their transatlantic journeys. We are on looser terrain when it comes to addressing the productive activities of the metropoles. Artesanal and guild-based production was a feature of Lisbon and Seville, and besides supplying local and region urban requirements goods were diffused from Seville to all of Andalusia and beyond. It is difficult to draw a clean line between productive and service activities at the metropoles. Many individuals conducted both roles simultaneously. It may be tempting to label them as preindustrial centres and regard them as exclusively mercantile centres. It is true to confirm that there were few added-value lines of production. There was some sugar refining at Lisbon and Seville. Most went to Amsterdam to be refined. In the sixteenth century, the state supported some shipbuilding and ship-chandelling facilities, especially in the Basque Provinces of Spain. Most had short life spans. In the eighteenth century, monopoly legislation supported textile and tobacco production in Spain and cotton manufacture in Portugal. These innovations mark the debut of real industries at the metropoles. Largely conceived as counterweights to the increasing grip by foreign products in colonial and domestic markets, these Enlightenment-inspired facilities initially enjoyed considerable success especially in Portugal (Hanson, 1981). The removal of Pombal, the advent of free trade and the abolition of protective tariffs, and the growth of the North American economy, amongst other processes, quickly subverted what had been achieved, and the failure of the facilities, in most cases before 1800, closed what had been a successful chapter in the extended history of the monopoly. Only Lisbon, mainly on account of its role as state capital and the greater array of functions that it hosted, managed to attract a range of labour-intensive industries. With the exception of Barcelona and Madrid, no other large settlement on the peninsula grew as quickly as the metropoles. The metropoles shared many urban characteristics; they also shared many of the processes that made them what they were. Loss of metropole status had negative consequences for them and had especially crippling repercussions for Cádiz. Its cramped urban structure did not provide room for the addition of new functions. Lisbon managed to evade the dire consequences of the abolition of free trade. Its African commerce picked up and it was a capital city. It did industrialise and the railways firmed up its role as a national administrative, ecclesiastical, military and retailing centre. The relocation of many administrative functions away from a congested crowded port to more accessible urban locations signified, however, the demise of the port’s heretofore premier role in the urban economy. Seville’s and latterly Cádiz’s designation as metropoles certainly skewed the evolution of Spain’s port hierarchy. It smothered the growth especially of the leading Mediterranean and other

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Atlantic ports. The degree to which Spain’s hierarchy readjusted in the nineteenth century is surely a testament to the ‘artificial’ nature of the monopoly. The relationship between Spain’s active metropoles and its overall urban hierarchy was more complex and different from the experiences of other Atlantic states. Madrid’s designation as capital further complicated matters. The Spain of Charles V and Phillip II allowed Seville to assume pole position in the urban league. By the early decades of the seventeenth century, Madrid had by-passed a Seville in decline a mere 70 years after its foundation as state capital. Cádiz occupied the second rung of Spain’s hierarchy for some of the latter half of the eighteenth century; it was quickly side-stepped by Barcelona, Bilbao and Santander once free trade conditions were established. The degree to which the political economy based on the monopoly acted to accelerate or restrain national integration in Spain is a more difficult arena. Physical obstacles to transport were severe and not really modified until the late nineteenth century; by then the era of the metropoles was history. In Portugal matters were different. Capital and exclusive metropole coincided and still it was only in the latter half of the nineteenth century that the roll-out of the railways allowed Lisbon establish hegemonic connections with most of the state. There was no significant readjustment of Portugal’s urban hierarchy during that century. Each state could only possess one metropole, so most ports on the Iberian Peninsula were interdicted for a long period from trading with the colonies. Prior to the designation of Lisbon and Seville as prime metropoles, all of the other ports had theoretically rights to trade with whomsoever they liked. Monopoly legislation was quickly put into effect soon after the potential of the New World and the Indies was realised. It was, however, by no means the first monopoly in Europe or on the peninsula. Cádiz, for instance, had acquired monopolistic trading rights for de facto exclusive trading with Berbería. These privileges were soon rescinded. Corunna was also endowed briefly with monopoly rights for the spice trade with the East Indies; they were also quickly withdrawn. It seems that they were granted more as an aspiration for development than as recognition of commercial realities. For close on 300 years, while the monopoly was in vigour, all of the other peninsular ports were prevented from trading with the colonies. Under these inauspicious circumstances, how did their careers evolve and how can they be compared and contrasted with those of the metropoles? What is clear is that the other Atlantic ports did not experience the dramatic demographic or physical expansion until at least the end of the eighteenth century and during the course of the next one. Indeed, most only developed in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. All of these ports during the monopoly period were locked in to the supply of a multitude of raw materials to the metropoles and this included the supply of people for service or as settlers abroad. Most of them were colonial re-export reception and further redistribution centres. Only Bilbao acted as a primary hub for the cod trade, if this commodity could be considered as ‘colonial’. The scale of their secondary colonial trade was small and uncertain and a permanent foreign merchant presence was negligible. An early to mid-sixteenth century boom in the wool trade spurred on moderate development at Bilbao and to a lesser extent at Santander. Both also counted shipbuilding and outfitting functions but they were not self-sustaining and both ports declined during the seventeenth century. Bilbao’s expansion was further stultified by local and regional political and administrative difficulties. Having to cede control of its immediate surrounding locale, it lost its territorial imperative for expansion outwards, and upwards was the only alternative left. It was only in the mid-eighteenth century and afterwards that significant urban expansion occurred, allowing the settlement to break out of its medieval carapace. In effect, growth coincided with the beginnings of free trade. Most of these ports largely depended on the export of raw materials. Initially, it was wool; later on, wheat exports dominated the export inventories of Santander. Fortified wines became almost the exclusive export from Oporto and textiles were a prime ingredient of Corunna’s exports. Bilbao’s merchant shippers certainly had the most varied export manifests. It was the only port that

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witnessed the emergence of a formidable industrial base that was founded on the extraction and manufacture of locally occurring raw materials. It could also count on a durable manufacturing tradition within its extended hinterland. Here it shared an important attribute with Oporto and that is the clear contribution of foreign capital to the productive successes that it achieved. All of these ports shared a late eighteenth- and/or early nineteenth-century surge in expansion characterised by physical growth and population increase largely fuelled by inmigration. At this time, the former Spanish metropoles were stagnating or entering a phase of profound decline. By the mid-nineteenth century, expansion had come to an abrupt end and Corunna’s leading merchants had departed. Santander was progressively concentrating upon a dwindling export trade of migrants. Bilbao was the only exception: its diverse and often integrated industrial edifice was self-sustaining allowing it to emerge as a significant integrated industrial centre on the peninsula. In spite of all the successes that it enjoyed, it remained an inner Atlantic port. Its nineteenth century direct trade with the ex-colonies was vestigial, though the ships built in its shipyards carried Spanish merchandise around the world. While our four so-called second-tier ports all exported raw materials, their trade cycles and building cycles did not coincide. Certainly, all profited from the suppression of the monopoly and the hegemony exercised by their respective metropoles. Each of them benefited from very different enabling factors. In this regard, a critical dynamic was the presence or absence of natural resources and these included iron ore at Bilbao, wheat and wood at Santander, and ideal physical conditions for viticulture in the middle of the Douro Valley. In the end, the physical presence of resources was neutral. Human entrepreneurship and the investment of capital, both foreign and indigenous, a complaint and eager workforce, a work ethic second to none – at every level of the labour force these were all ingrained attributes of these centres over short or more extended periods of time. This was especially the case at Bilbao. In the instance of Oporto, the official ‘demarcation’ of the wine-growing region by Pombal’s agency facilitated the transformation of an extremely marginal rural area into an engine of growth that allowed it to drive the growth of Oporto and much of northwest Portugal. Not only did they differ from each other but also the ports in the second tier diverged in most crucial aspects from the growth type experiences of the metropoles. Their booms and expansions transpired in the aftermath of ‘free trade’. Coincidentally, Bilbao’s early transformation took place over the same period as the urban desmotizaciones, later prompting the building of its extensive ensanche. Urban planning at these centres varied in its remit, scale and timing. In some cases, plans were devised to reshape entire settlements; in no instance were they implemented. At Oporto, military planning was followed by municipal intervention. All that was achieved was to free-up access to a congested medieval core with the construction of a series of leading roads that soon became selfsustaining axes of urbanisation. At Corunna and Santander, the most emblematic extensions were driven by merchant idealism and investment. The establishment of port management institutions lagged far behind in time and it was only in the latter half of the nineteenth century that civic authorities had the expertise and finance to address the issues of port infrastructures and harbour improvement. By then, the state had withdrawn from these kinds of activities and had delegated them to local municipal authorities Over time, our metropoles experienced recognisable phases of growth, each of which was characterised by the presence of shared commercial, demographic, morphological and managerial characteristics. All of the ports began their careers as inner Atlantic trading centres with the exception of Cádiz, which connected trade between North Africa, the Atlantic and the Mediterranean and was already discharging a role as an entrepôt. This was followed when the ports of Seville and Lisbon were declared metropoles and monopoly institutions were founded to regulate commerce, migration and shipping with the New World.

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A more mature phase of expansion coincides with mid-sixteenth century. This was characterised by the arrival of large quantities of bullion and other valuable and diverse colonial trade, explosive population growth, sustained physical urban expansion including the appearance of new suburbs, the emergence of the metropoles as true entrepôts where colonial goods were re-directed over the peninsula and further afield in Europe, and men, raw materials and manufactured items being assembled for shipping to the colonies. An outbreak in the building of churches, convents, state offices and palaces also occurred. Complex occupational and social structures emerged. It also marked a period when early militerisation of the ports transpired with the erection of rudimentary defences and the debut of transatlantic convoy arrangements. In spite of all of the efforts, no adequate port infrastructures developed. The late seventeenth and most of the eighteenth centuries marked a new phase of expansion and growth coincident with the renewed surge in transatlantic trade. The degree to which the monopoly regulatory authorities actually influenced commerce remains unclear, especially in Portugal. Cádiz experienced exceptional growth, which was reflected in military-organised physical expansion and steady demographic growth, an outbreak of church and defensive buildings, the erection of many sumptuous domestic buildings and the attraction of hosts of foreign merchants, artisans and domestic servants in tandem with a tidal wave of people from elsewhere on the peninsula. The aftermath of the earthquake allowed Pombal rebuild sections of Lisbon along distinctive planned lines and the addition of new suburbs. Pombal also helped to facilitate the configuration of a Luso-Atlantic trading system in which Lisbon figured as the chief peninsular hub. His activities also entailed the building of several factories at Lisbon designed to serve the needs of Portugal’s overseas communities. Our three metropole port cities were distinctive in European terms. They were the urban embodiments of commercial monopoly policies unknown elsewhere Europe. Their merchantile successes drove their expansion. Bereft of protection, with the exception of Lisbon, they quickly foundered and port and urban hierarchy was rapidly re-ordered. In a sense, their careers correspond with some of the Asian port cities already alluded to. They were port cities in the sense that their prosperity depended on colonial commerce, yet they were never deeply involved in value-added production nor did they emerge like Amsterdam of London as primary financial nodes. The 300 years of monopoly implementation had disastrous consequences for non-metropole ports examined here and also for Mediterranean peninsular ports. Suspension of the monopoly gave them opportunities denied for centuries. In the end, the monopoly was device that spawned an artificial port hierarchy within a system of transatlantic commerce. Once the monopoly was suspended, port and urban hierarchy, particularly in Spain, quickly restructured. Its legacies, however, remain emblazoned in the urban form and architecture of all the major port cities on the Iberian Peninsula.

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Index

La Aduana 45, 58, 84 Alemán, Mateo 69 Alemany Llovera, J. 16 Alexandria 4 Alfonso IX of Spain 218 Alfonso X of Spain 218 Almada, Francisco de 201 Almada, João de 201−2 Amsterdam 10, 21−3, 27−8, 104, 114, 139−40, 262, 266−7, 289 Anderson, A. 162 Angra 125−7 Antwerp 6, 21−3, 27, 32, 132, 140, 177, 180, 193 Avilés 227, 229 Azores archipelago 125−6, 135 banking 53, 114, 274, 289 Barata Salgueiro, T. 131 Barcelona 72, 254, 284−5, 291 Barrett, W. 25 Batavia 27 Bayonne 257 Beckford, W. 162 Beirut 4 Beltrán, Pedro 110 Bennassar, B. 72, 184 Bilbao 3−5, 18, 113, 177, 180−83, 189−90, 193, 207, 212, 235, 237, 255−82, 291−2 in 18th century 269−70 in 19th century 276−82 port facilities 267−9 take-off in development 270−76 Bombay 9 Bordeaux 3, 29, 266 Bowles, W. 269−70 Brandão, João 136 Braudel, F. 11, 20, 22 Braun, Georg 59, 288 Bristol 21 Broeze, F. 6 Bruges 21−2, 32, 132, 193 Buarcos, Brandão de 133 Burgos 110, 173−7, 180−3, 186−7, 232−3, 236−7 Cádiz 4, 7, 9, 16, 18, 25−6, 30, 39, 42−7, 57, 61, 67, 73−7, 81−127, 161, 165, 214, 218, 284−5, 288−93

context and locale 82 early development 84−94 economic and urban reorientation 113−15 expansion and maturation 98−100 free trade regime 112 hierarchy of commerce 101−4 lifestyle and society 108−10 in mid-18th century 104−5 monopoly position 85−8 occupational structure 105−8 port area 100−101, 113−14 residence patterns 103, 108−9, 113 urban inheritance 94−8 Calcutta 9, 11 Cambay 10 Canary Islands 117−24 Carrera de Indias 47−9, 57, 68, 88−9, 92, 117, 134, 284 Carvalho, Santos 157 Casa de Contratación 42−8, 57−8, 71, 81, 87, 89, 118−22, 126 Castile decline of 185−7 ‘golden age’ of 179 Cermeno, Martín 223 Changan 10 Charles I of Spain 59, 67, 149, 284, 291 Charles III of Spain 7, 109, 210, 217 Chaunu, P. 58, 93 Clark, P. 6 Colombo 10 Columbus, Christopher 287 companies, establishment of 90−91, 103, 201−3 Consejo de Indias 30, 45, 122 Consulado institutions 47, 50, 57, 87, 90, 102−3, 132, 173, 177, 182, 210, 237, 242, 251, 253, 269, 282 convoy system 132−3, 140, 177, 284−5 Cork 10−11 Cornillon, J. 96 Cortés, Hernán 67 Corunna 5, 25, 44, 110, 189, 193, 207−29, 291−2 early development 210−14 locale 217−18 port 220−2 regional context 207−9 reorientation and expansion 224−5

330

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

urban morphology 222−4 Costigan, A.W. 157, 161 credit 56 Cuenca 186 cultural diversity 288 Davies, R. 21 De Vries, J. 18, 179 Defoe, Daniel 265 diamond shipments 142 Diu 10 Djakarta see Batavia Domínguez, Ortiz 67 Drake, Francis 220 Duesto 270 Dumouriez, F. 161 Dutch Atlantic 26−7 East India Company 28 Eiffel, Gustave 204 Elcano, Juan Sebastián 210 empires, management of 29−34 English Atlantic 28 ethnic diversity 288 Faro 6 Ferrol 216, 226−7 fishing 137, 194, 211−12 fleets, organisation of 47−8, 91, 93, 121, 153; see also convoy system Fontana, J. 31, 33, 238 Forrester, J.J. 129, 167 free trade 112, 124, 214, 284, 291 French Atlantic 28−9 Funchal 127 Gadir see Cádiz Gama, Vasco da 141 García Fernández, J. 188 García Merino, I.V. 280 Genoa and the Genoese 22, 68, 84−5, 100, 102, 111, 114, 123, 289 Gianzo, Felipe 223−4 Glas, E.J. 272 gold shipments 137−8, 153, 159, 195 Gomes, Fernão 141 González, García Baquero 93 González-Cebrian Tello, J. 223 Guipúzcoa 260−61 Gutkind, E.A. 15 La Habana Company 86 Hamburg 194

Hanseatic League 10 Heras, Ignacio de 251 Hernández, Sánchez-Barba 121 Hoefnagel, Georg 246, 288 Hollanda, F. de 150 Humbolt, W. von 271 Ibarruri, Dolores 280 inner Atlantic zone 20−22 insurance 57 Istanbul 4 Jiménez, Alfonso 7 João V of Portugal 151 Kamen, H. 174−5 Keyder, C.O. 11 Konvitz, J.F. 3, 6 Las Palmas 119, 125 Leixões 144, 203−6 Linschoten, Jan 288 Lisbon 4−5, 16, 18, 21−4, 32, 39, 58, 87, 129−71, 197, 204−5, 284−9, 292−3 dependence on England 160−62, 289 early development 146−50 earthquake (1755) and Pombaline reconstruction 155−8, 164, 201, 288, 293 in 18th and 19th centuries 152−71 institutions 132−4 locale and context 143−6 manufacturing 159−60 port facilities and through-put 132−3, 162−4 trade patterns 134−43, 171 London 22, 28, 123, 195 López, Tomás 71, 76 López de Haro, Diego 267 Macassar 25, 27 Macau 135 Madeira 125−7, 135, 139−40 Madoz, P. 78, 225 Madrid 12, 18, 72, 174−5, 179, 183, 186, 284, 291 as capital of Castile 187−90 Maia, Manuel de 156 Malacca 10 Maria I of Portugal 156, 160 Marín, M. 223−4 Medina del Campo 176, 180−86 Medina Sidonia, Dukes of 67 Mercator, Gerardus 161 merchant associations 57−8 merchant finance 55−7

Index merchants as a social group 67−9, 77−8, 101−7, 115, 124, 157, 160−61, 250−51, 254, 264, 269, 280, 286 Methuen Treaty (1703) 154, 159−61, 284 Molinié-Bertrand, A. 186 monopolies 42−5, 85−8, 133, 283−5, 291 Montaigu, F. de 223 Murrogh, Patricio 216 Nasoni, Nicolas 200 Nelson, Horatio 112 Nieto-Guerrero, Ruiz 95 noble families 105 Oporto 5, 16, 18, 21−2, 24, 28, 158, 163−71, 193−206, 286, 292 before 18th century 193−5 in 18th century 195−203 in 19th century 203−6 Oviedo 227, 229 Oyón, J.L. 16 Palencia 184 Patagonia 217 Phillip II of Spain 7, 32, 57, 59, 121, 134, 138−9, 150, 155, 186, 229, 284−5, 291 Phillip IV of Spain 220 plague and other epidemics 72, 76−7, 82−3, 113, 118, 186, 220, 287 Pombal, Marques of 18, 24, 32, 135, 140, 144, 146, 155−61, 164, 171, 195, 200−202, 284, 289, 292−3 Pontevedra 209−10 population statistics 11−12, 97, 105, 107, 111, 113, 119, 143−4, 147−8, 169, 179, 183−5, 189, 203, 207, 220−21, 228, 246−7, 269, 276 port cities classification of 207 as a generic type 3−4, 10−11 in literature 6−9, 16 theorisation of 9−13 urban evolution of 17 Portuguese Atlantic 22−5 Portuguese empire 31−3, 283 privateering 217 Quintella family 162 Rahn Phillips, C. 174 railway building 165−9, 203−5, 272−4, 278, 281, 291 Rau, V. 195 Reeves, P. 4

331

Reher, D.S. 179 Ringrose, D.R. 33, 175, 179, 189−90 river traffic 129 Ruiz, Simon 181 Sabastião I of Portugal 132 St Malo 123 Salamanca 184−5 salt trade 137−8, 194 San Sebastián 255−9 Sanlúcar 110−11 Santa Cruz 117−25 Santander 3−5, 18, 56, 189−90, 193, 207, 224, 231−54, 276, 281, 291−2 colonial boom 248−50 decline 253−4 residence patterns 251−2 trade patterns 239−45 urban morphology 245−8 Santans y Tapia, J. de 220 Santiago de Compostela 207−9, 227 Segovia 183−5 Setúbal 163−4, 171 Seville 3−4, 18, 21, 30, 39−79, 81−2, 87, 97, 106, 114, 121, 145, 165, 210, 284−5, 288−92 decline and stagnation 73−7 in the ‘golden age’ 59−66, 71−4 institutions 45−9 locale and context 39−42 monopoly position 42−5 port 58−61, 66, 77−9 residence patterns 64−6 society, class and ethnic diversity 66−71 trade patterns 49−53 urban economy 53−8 Shanghai 11 shipbuilding and boatbuilding 66, 92−3, 100, 259−61, 270−71 shipping 34−5, 48−51, 62, 143, 214 carrying capacity 122 crews for 94 management of 91−3 see also fleets silver trade 137−8, 195 Singapore 9 slavery and the slave trade 68−72, 84, 88−9, 121, 134, 140−41, 168, 194, 217, 224, 283 Spanish Atlantic 25−6 Spanish empire 29−32, 283 spice trade 141−2 sugar trade 139−41, 153 Syracuse 4

332

Port Cities of Atlantic Iberia, c. 1500–1900

Teixeira Albernas, Pedro 146 Tirso de Molina 186 Toledo 189−90, 284 Trafalgar, battle of 112 urbanisation, degrees of 17−18 Utrecht, Treaty of (1713) 226, 259 Valladolid 180−90, 284 Vance, J.R. 7−8 Vassberg, D. 178 Vedia y Gooseens, E. 225 Velázquez, Diego de 110 Venice 32 Vernet, Joseph 7 Vespucci, Amerigo 46

Viana 194 Vigo 227 Walford, A.R. 161 Wood, N. 6 wood, trade in 139, 234−5 wool, trade in 173−8 Wyngaerde, Anton van 83−4, 110, 288 Ximénez, Alfonso 98, 109 Xixón 227−9 Young, Arthur 3 Zorroa 260, 270−71