previous next

[223] where it is settled with great accuracy, on account of what Montesinos says to Durandarte, in the cave.1

The 16th, early in the morning, I came through Sta. Cruz, the splendid fief of the Marquis, who is son-in-law to the Duchess of Ossuna, and soon afterwards came to the famous passage of the Sierra Morena which divides La Mancha from Andalusia, and which I traversed, at the point where Don Quixote gave their liberty to the galley slaves. It is a long range of dark mountains, which have little striking in their forms;. . . . one of the gorges is, however, fine; and the great number of eagles with which it abounds, and which sail over your head at a height that hardly permits you to hear their cries, strike the imagination like poetry, and announce to you that you are in one of the original, undisturbed solitudes of nature. . . . .

At the foot of the mountains I entered La Carolina, the chief place of a colony of Germans, brought here by Charles III., and distributed through about twenty neat little villages he here built for them. They are in a delicious situation, well built, and in a flourishing condition; full of an industrious population, that furnishes a great quantity of articles in the common arts, such as wooden clocks, coarse earthenware, etc., etc., to all Spain. Carolina is really a beautiful town, with fine buildings, spacious walks, and all the marks of wealth and comfort in the population; and the whole colony, extending from the foot of the Sierra Morena to near Baylen, forms a singular contrast, by its neatness and industry, with the squalid poverty that marks the villages of La Mancha and Castile.

It was in this delightful spot that I first observed the change of climate that might be expected on passing so considerable a chain of mountains. The balmy mildness of the evening air, just such as I had felt it a year ago on descending the Alps; the reappearance of large groves of olives, which are so rare and meagre in Castile; and the hedges of aloes, which I had not seen since I left the coast of Catalonia,—all proved that I had come into what may, without impropriety, be called the Italy of Spain.

In the morning [of the 17th] I rode along, still through the same delicious country, and came at last upon the banks of the Guadalquivir,


1 The passage here mentioned is as follows: ‘Your squire, Guadiana, lamenting his hard fate, was, in like manner, metamorphosed into a river that bears his name; yet still so sensible of your disaster, that when he first arose out of the bowels of the earth, to flow along its surface, and saw the sun in a strange hemisphere, he plunged again under ground, striving to hide his melting sorrows from the world.’—Don Quixote, Part II. Chap. XXIII.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.

An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.

hide Places (automatically extracted)

View a map of the most frequently mentioned places in this document.

Sort places alphabetically, as they appear on the page, by frequency
Click on a place to search for it in this document.
Sierra Morena (Spain) (2)
Castile, N. Y. (New York, United States) (2)

Visualize the most frequently mentioned Pleiades ancient places in this text.

Download Pleiades ancient places geospacial dataset for this text.

hide People (automatically extracted)
Sort people alphabetically, as they appear on the page, by frequency
Click on a person to search for him/her in this document.
Don Quixote (2)
Marchioness Sta (1)
Ossuna (1)
hide Display Preferences
Greek Display:
Arabic Display:
View by Default:
Browse Bar: