Throughout the centuries, one of the recurrent features of European expansion has been the founding of urban settlements that would repeat the toponymy of familiar place names, often adding the qualifying adjective ‘New’ as a means to differentiate the more recent settlement from its original namesake. In this respect, the vast New World territories proved to be particularly fertile grounds for the reproduction of Iberian Peninsula urban references. There are, at present, 18 American towns that bear the name ‘Santiago’, 12 that bear the name ‘Toledo’ and five each that ensure the presence in the Western hemisphere of Cadiz, Granada and Guadalupe de Cáceres. Outside of Spain, there are now four ‘Méridas’, four ‘Guadalajaras’, four ‘Mendozas’ and four ‘Trujillos’ ; as well as three ‘Zaragozas’, three ‘Cordobas’ and three ‘Salamancas’.Reference García Yebra and Rubio Chávarri y Alcalá-Zamora 1 Many of these New World towns managed to achieve a notoriety of their own, sometimes even greater than that of their original name source. As one would have expected, Castilla-La Mancha, Andalucía, Extremadura and, to a lesser degree, Galicia or the Basque provinces were the main regional contributors for this eagerness to reproduce, in hitherto unknown surroundings, the reassuring references of a familiar geography.
Catalonia, on the other hand, has been sorely neglected. There are, at present, only two ‘American’ Barcelonas. One, located, in Río Grande do Norte, Brazil, originally known since the mid-19th century as ‘Salgado’ because of the high salt content of its surrounding soil, was renamed ‘Barcelona’ in 1928 by the local municipal prefect, supposedly not because of any reference to Catalonia’s capital, but because it was the name of a rubber plantation (seringal) where the prefect himself had once worked. Raised to municipality status in 1958, Brazil’s Barcelona lists agriculture, essentially cattle-raising, as its main activity and hosts around 4000 inhabitants according to the latest census (2010), including the members of Quadrilha Junina Sertão Alegre, a local folk music and dance group, reported to have achieved a certain notoriety in Nordestine Sertão festivals. 2
A totally different story is that of Venezuela’s Barcelona, today the thriving regional capital of the Anzoátegui State, with a population of nearly half a million inhabitants (465,989) and which, together with its neighbouring coastal urban zones of Puerto La Cruz, Lechería and Guanta, forms one of the more important urban areas in all of Venezuela with a total population of over 800,000 inhabitants. 3
Located on both sides of the Neverí River, at about 7 km south of the Caribbean coastline, Barcelona lies near the foothills of the eastern cordillera region. The historical importance of this particular section of eastern Tierra Firme surged, at first, from the oyster pearl cycle of the neighbouring islands of Margarita and Cubagua where the town settlement of Nueva Cádiz was mentioned as early as 1528.Reference Otte 4 But the presence of fierce indian tribes on the mainland thwarted most of the attempts for a permanent settlement. Despite its claim to be the first settlement founded by Europeans in mainland America, tracing its origins as far back as 1501, the town of Cumaná had to be refounded several times, even after its ‘official’ founding date of 1521. Once the pearl cycle declined, the presence of what proved to be the largest salt plains in the Caribbean area, on the Araya peninsula located right in front of the Cumaná coastline, proved to be a tempting bounty for Dutch, English and French privateers.Reference Armas Alonzo 5
Even though they had been aware of the presence of these salt plains since the early days of the conquest, it was only in the later years of the 16th century that the Spaniards became truly aware of their importance and of the need to ensure a permanent control and defence of the area against English and, particularly, Dutch incursions. Projects were even devised to poison the salt plains altogether, but the idea proved impractical. However, with the resumption of the war with the Dutch provinces in 1621, new plans were drawn up in Spain to provide an adequate protection for Araya’s ‘white gold’. The construction of a fortress at the tip of the Araya peninsula was ordered in 1622, but its actual building took time – actually nearly half a century – and required money. Thus, in the meantime, in April 1623, it was hastily decided to send a small fleet to defend Araya and to man the expedition with ‘volunteer’ recruits initially drafted on the fleet bound for Veracruz. Among these ‘volunteers’, there was one who had actually boarded the Veracruz fleet without showing the necessary authorization and who, technically, should have been prevented from going anywhere; but there was too urgent a need for presumably able soldiers to bother with excessive administrative red tape. The name initially given by this man was Gregorio Izquierdo, which sounded Castillian enough but proved to be false.Reference Vila 6
His real name was actually Joan Orpí del Pou. His family, originally from the hamlet of Orpí in the Barcelona province, had moved at the beginning of the 16th century to the neighbouring town of Piera (about 38 km northwest of Barcelona) where his descendants had prospered in trade to the extent of finding themselves at the head of an entailed estate in both land and urban real estate and being able to add to their surname the word del Pou (the ‘well’) to differentiate themselves from other, presumably less fortunate, branches. Born in 1593, Joan, or Juan, in 1609, upon reaching the age of 16, went to study law at the Estudio General University in Barcelona. The death of his father two years later forced him to momentarily interrupt his studies, but after consulting with his family, it was agreed he would be given the necessary financial aid to complete his courses and, consequently, to obtain his law degree in 1620. He was thus a letrado, a status that would prove of considerable help in his future American career (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 71–84).
In the meantime, he began seeking a royal appointment and travelled for such purposes to Seville. Even though there is a void in the documentary evidence on his life between 1620 and 1623, it does appear that Orpí (or Orpín in the castillianized form of his surname which we will use henceforth) did not obtain the appointment he wanted. Despite his being a letrado, as a Catalan, he was still considered a foreigner in the lands of the Crown of Castille and León and therefore at an obvious disadvantage for any kind of public office. It was probably then that he decided to seek his fortune in the New World, but had to do so under an assumed ‘Castillian sounding’ name since, in the early 17th century, Catalans were not allowed to travel to – not to mention settle in – the overseas possessions that also bore the seal of Castille and León.
The expedition he thus joined, partly through unforeseen circumstances, left Seville at the end of April 1623, but was immobilized for several months at Sanlucar de Barrameda and finally set sail in September 1623, arriving at Cumaná by the end of the year. Orpín, by all eyewitness accounts, is said to have possessed an endearing and persuasive personality, as well as to have been cultured well above the level of the common man of his time. He was able to present convincing arguments to defend his case when the need came to do so. It is also mentioned that he spoke Castillian Spanish almost without any accent that would betray his Catalan origins. Upon arriving in Cumaná, he managed to ingratiate himself with the provincial Governor, Diego de Arroyo y Daza, who appointed him Lieutenant-General in charge of military matters. Even though Orpín had no experience in this particular field, he nonetheless succeeded in carrying out the inland patrol missions he was entrusted with. When his true identity was finally revealed, the Governor merely suggested that he travel to the Santo Domingo Audiencia, by the end of the year 1624, to legalize his situation. Orpín managed to convince the judges of the Audiencia: his identity situation was duly set straight and he obtained not only permission to remain in the New World but also revalidated his Law degree – a definite credit to his natural charm and powers of persuasion (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 91–102).
Having returned to the mainland, Orpín lived for four years in Cumaná and served governor Arroyo in various capacities. He explored the adjacent region, particularly in the area of the Neverí river valley and was able to assess the strength of the various indigenous tribes that, up to then, had been able to resist, with a large measure of success, the attempts of permanent territorial settlement on the part of the Spanish conquistadores. In January 1628, he was sent by the Santo Domingo Audiencia on a mission to Caracas to press the municipal authorities for a large sum of money. He gained the confidence of the Governor of the Province of Venezuela, Juan de Meneses y Padilla, who acknowledged him as a ‘persona de calidad, letras y cristiandad’, appointed him Lieutenant-General and entrusted him, among other things, with the task of capturing bands of runaway slaves in the mountainous regions surrounding Caracas. It is at this time that Orpín reportedly became the owner of a cattle estate in Macaira, near the town of San Sebastián de los Reyes (about 110 km to the Southwest of Caracas) (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 113–124).
However, Juan de Orpín’s relatively good fortunes in the New World were soon to come to an end. Governor Juan de Meneses ended his term of office in 1630 and his replacement, Francisco Núñez Meleán, simply did not get along with his predecessor’s Lieutenant-General. Orpín was summarily dismissed and preferred to return to Santo Domingo where, so he had learned, the Audiencia was opening a contest for the conquest and pacification of the fierce Cumanagoto populations who had effectively blocked Spanish penetration into a large region to the West of Cumaná, including the Neverí River Valley. The contest was open to all those who had the military abilities and financial means to achieve the intended goal. Orpín could readily argue that he satisfied at least the first of the two conditions. It is fully to the credit of his powers of persuasion that, despite a total lack of financial backing and the barely veiled hostility of the Crown authorities in Caracas, he managed to obtain, albeit after two full years of negotiations between Santo Domingo and Madrid, a royal provision to go ahead with his conquest proposal. He was granted a large territory for which he would receive the title of Governor and Captain-General, extending to the East of Cape Codera (the limit of the Caracas Province), South to the Orinoco and Guarapiche rivers and to the Northeast with the new boundaries set for the Province of Nueva Andalucía, which his own enterprise would considerably reduce as an administrative unit (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 130–141).
Achieving such an enterprise did not prove an easy task. Apart from the opposition on the part of the Caracas authorities, the recently appointed governor of Nueva Andalucía, Benito Arias Montano, certainly did not look favourably on a project that would deprive him of nearly two-thirds of his territorial jurisdiction. Upon returning to Caracas, Orpín, therefore, was confronted with the utmost difficulties in preparing for his expedition and was eventually imprisoned by the angry Núñez Meleán. He managed to escape in December 1632 and left Caracas by land, with a small party, rejoining San Sebastián de los Reyes which became the starting point for the march to the East. In April 1633, a first settlement was founded, Santa María de Manapire, opening the way into Cumanagoto territory. A few months later, the banks of the Unare River were reached and a small fort, San Pedro Mártir de Unare, was erected. But in December, news arrived that a conspiracy, led by the Caracas and Nueva Andalucía provincial governors, had succeeded in having Orpín’s royal provision revoked (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 161–179).
He decided, first, to return to Santo Domingo, where he arrived in March 1634 to appeal his case but, in view of the hesitations he was confronted with on the part of his Audiencia lawyer colleagues, he resolved to fight out the issue directly with the Council of Indies in Madrid. His case was officially introduced in August 1635, but it took over seven months of heated discussions before the Council, finally, in March 1636, granted him the renewal of his provision and prerogatives. During that time, Orpín returned to his native town of Piera where the sale of part of his family estate, with the expectation of substantial gains from his endeavours in the Indies, ensured him a small financial backing for the pursuit of his project (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 182–202).
In July 1636, he was back in the island of Margarita and, from there, landed in Cumaná where governor Arias Montano received him coldly and refused him any assistance. Hardly discouraged, Orpín then sailed for La Guaira and marched to Caracas. Given his reconfirmed official status, governor Núñez Meleán could not openly challenge him and thus, following the same southern route as in his previous expedition, with a small party of about 150 men and 13 horses, Orpín arrived at Santa María de Manapire in January 1637 and continued moving eastwards, successfully withstanding several attacks from bands of Cumanagoto indians. Following the Caribbean coastline, the expedition by mid-May finally reached the valley of the Neverí River. A practical problem was soon to arise: there had been a small Spanish settlement, established since 1586 on the right bank of the Neverí by conquistador Cristóbal Cobos who had named it San Cristóbal de la Nueva Ecija de los Cumanagotos. It was little more than a hamlet, subject to constant attacks from hostile tribes, but it had managed to survive. Orpín believed its location was not appropriate and, furthermore, in order to assert his own authority, considered it was better to claim a settlement foundation from scratch. Having failed to convince all the inhabitants of San Cristóbal to move, he decided on a location also on the right bank of the river but closer to a mountainous ridge which, he believed, offered better protection against indian attacks. There, on 12 February 1638, the formal foundation ceremony was enacted, giving birth to the new settlement of Nueva Barcelona del Cerro Santo. The date had been carefully chosen: 12 February was the calendar day of Saint Eulalia, the patron saint of the peninsular Barcelona and to whom its New World namesake was also dedicated. A little over a hundred vecinos constituted the original population of Nueva Barcelona: some did come from neighbouring San Cristóbal, others from Santa María de Manapire. Ironically, for what Orpín intended would be the capital of the newly created province of Nueva Cataluña, there seemed to be, aside from its founder, no Catalans among the rest of its inhabitants, at least for the time being (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 241–267).Reference Martínez-Mendoza 7
Encouraged by this initial success, Orpín pursued his exploration of the Caribbean coastline to the west, which led, in June 1638, to the creation of yet another settlement at the mouth of the Uchire River (some 100 km west of Nueva Barcelona) which was given the name of Nueva Tarragona, intended as another landmark of Catalan presence on the Spanish Main. A reconnaissance expedition was sent to the south, while Orpín began facing the everyday administrative problems of the territory he had been granted. The task did not prove easy, due to indian attacks and Dutch privateer raids, but mainly due to the ill-will demonstrated by the existing local authorities. Despite the favourable report written at the end of the year 1638 by Francisco de Alarcón Coronado, the inspector sent by the Santo Domingo Audiencia to evaluate the prospects opened by the foundation of Nueva Barcelona, Orpín had to face the hardly veiled opposition of Cumaná governor Arias Montano, to which was now added the opposition of the inhabitants of San Cristóbal, who simply refused to belong to any other administrative authority than that of the Province of Nueva Andalucía (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 286–309).
To make matters even worse, the outbreak of the Catalan rebellion in 1640 served as a convenient pretext to remind Madrid that Orpín was, after all, a Catalan and might harbour subversive second intentions with his conquest and colonization project. To start with, the intended name of Nueva Cataluña was no longer considered suitable. Furthermore, the lengthy Memoriales Orpín sent to the king in 1639, 1641, 1642 and 1643 seemed unable to stem the tide of negative rumours and accusations that originated in Cumaná. Even initiatives such as the building of a canal on the delta of the Unare River, thereby flooding the salt plains between Nueva Tarragona and Nueva Barcelona and depriving the Dutch of a coveted salt supply, was criticized because of the expense involved (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 330–395).
Faced with such a deteriorating situation, Orpín decided, once again, to defend his cause in person in front of the Audiencia and travelled to Santo Domingo at the end of 1642, but had to rush back after a few months, in early 1643, because of an indian uprising in Nueva Tarragona, which – as was later found out – was probably instigated and abetted by his own enemies. Further expeditions organized by Orpín to the southeast only served to fuel further conflicts with governor Arias Montano. In 1644, he was formally denounced and accused of trading smuggled goods with English privateers. The accusation later proved to be unfounded (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 400–432).
Whereas Nueva Tarragona had to be dismantled after the 1643 uprising, Nueva Barcelona seemed to thrive, both in terms of its surrounding land being put to use for agriculture and cattle raising and in terms of its capacity to trade as a fluvial port. As such, it became a coveted prey for the Caribbean Dutch fleet, which staged an attack on the settlement in April 1645. Orpín was virtually left alone to take over the defence, but successfully managed to drive out the Dutch, despite his being wounded in the fight. With his health already weakened by the years of constant worry and continuous effort, Juan de Orpín did not survive this final blow and died in Nueva Barcelona on 1 July 1645. The location of his grave remains unknown (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 435–445).
Posterity has recorded Orpín as one of the last conquistadors of the northern Spanish main, with his actions, set as late in time as the first half of the 17th century, highlighting the difficulties encountered in pacifying the native indian populations and extending the control of the Crown of Castille and León over the vast territories of Tierra Firme. That Orpín himself was a Catalan and that his ambition was to bestow the name of Nueva Cataluña upon the administrative unit he would manage to place under his control were not issues readily taken into account. This is particularly so, since the governorship he had insisted in creating only survived him by less than a decade. Indeed, in 1654, following the initiative of Cumaná’s governor Pedro de Brizuela, the territory of Nueva Cataluña was incorporated into that of Nueva Andalucía. Along the same lines, the constant rivalry and bickering between San Cristóbal de Cumanagoto and Nueva Barcelona, particularly on the question of their respective borderlands, finally led to the Salomonic decision, taken in 1671 by Cumaná’s governor Sancho Fernández de Angulo Sandoval, to simply merge the two settlements and move them both to a new location, on the left bank of the Neverí River and a few kilometres upstream, thus less exposed to the incursions from Dutch or English privateers. Referred to, without distinction at first, as either Nueva Barcelona or as San Cristóbal, the new settlement, numbering around 500 inhabitants, was divided into two parishes that retained the names of their respective patron saints – San Cristóbal and Santa Eulalia. But soon, probably out of convenience to avoid confusion with other towns bearing the name of San Cristóbal, Nueva Barcelona, or simply ‘Barcelona’, prevailed as its common denomination. Orpín’s initiative to stamp the mark of Catalonia in the New World had succeeded after all. And even though, once she was informed of the matter, the queen regent Mariana de Austria protested, in September 1673, that such a decision to move had been taken without her approval, the fait accompli was not altered and Venezuela’s Barcelona, to this very day, remains in its new location (Ref. Reference Martínez-Mendoza7, pp. 80–72).
Ironically, it was only after any pretence at creating an autonomous ‘Catalan-identified’ administrative unit had effectively vanished that Barcelona – as we will henceforth refer to it – and its surrounding region acquired, for nearly a century and a half, the potential characteristics of a Catalan enclave in the New World. The first manifestation of this new situation came from the development of missionary activities.
By the middle of the 17th century, the indigenous populations located between the mouths of the Neverí River and the Orinoco lowlands, labelled as indios salvajes, were estimated at between 20 and 30,000 individuals. The Christianizing efforts attempted since the early days of the conquest had generally been unsuccessful due to the lack of a properly organized missionary process. But, following Juan de Orpín’s initiatives and the favourable reports emanating from various Church authorities, a renewed interest with regard to evangelization soon materialized by the late 1650s. As in most of Venezuela, such a task essentially fell upon the Franciscan order in its various denominations: the Aragonese Capuchins took over the region East and South of Cumaná; the Franciscans themselves were assigned the area of Barcelona and its neighbouring hinterland; while the Catalan Capuchins settled both in the Guayana region, South of the Orinoco, and in the islands of Margarita and Trinidad. Even though the Catalans were not formally assigned to Barcelona proper, the differences in peninsular origin between these various members of the Franciscan order were somewhat blurred and most, if not all of them, seem to have come from the territories under the nominal jurisdiction of the kingdom of Aragon. Given the importance of the coastal mission of Píritu and of the interior missions around Clarines and Cantaura, Barcelona – probably even more so than Cumaná – operated as a major base for missionary expansion. Even though their numbers remained small, around 150 at any given time for the entire Eastern Venezuela region, the Franciscan and Capuchin friars were quite successful in their pastoral endeavours.Reference de Carrocera 8 By 1799, the Prussian naturalist and traveller Alexander von Humboldt evaluated the total indigenous population of the area at about 60,000 souls and could write that there were no more indios salvajes to be found.Reference de Humboldt 9
Apart from the power of the cross, the second element that contributed to the Catalan identity of Barcelona and its neighbouring region was trade, particularly after 1745, when Catalan ports – basically peninsular Barcelona – were allowed to trade with the Spanish Indies. It did take, however, over a decade for this new disposition to materialize in the creation, at the initiative of a group of distinguished Catalan merchants and by royal charter in April 1756, of the Real Compañía de Comercio de Barcelona. Unlike other mercantilist trading companies of the period, the Compañía de Barcelona did not operate under a monopoly or with the granting of exclusive rights. It was merely given a number of tax exemptions, granting it privileged trading activities ‘in hitherto uncoveted markets so as not to provoke resentments’. These markets included the Province of Cumaná, including the Barcelona coastline, as well as the island of Margarita. The presence of Catalan missionaries in the area was, indeed, mentioned as an encouraging incentive, as well as the fact that Venezuelan Barcelona’s founder had Catalan origins.Reference Oliva Melgar 10
The establishment of the Compañía de Barcelona not only boosted trade between Eastern Venezuela and the peninsula, but also led the way to the establishment in the area, particularly in Cumaná and Barcelona, of a permanent and relatively important Catalan colony. Apart from company agents, it included a number of merchants who virtually took over the wholesale trade and the operation of most of the area’s general grocery stores (pulperías). For Barcelona, the names of Ignaci Llort, Marçal Gibert or Josep Guinart are mentioned for the 1760s and that of Francesc Vargas in the early 1780s (Ref. Reference Oliva Melgar10, pp. 80–137). Some newcomers to Barcelona had projects directly derived from trading activities. Thus, one Jaume Planchart, from Sant Vicenç de Castellet, arrived in 1762 with the intention, which proved to be unsuccessful, of opening a bank, probably on the model of the British merchant banks. Others dedicated themselves to agriculture and cattle raising: Cristóbal Coll, for instance, owned a cotton plantation near San Mateo (about 70 km to the southeast of Barcelona) which included several ginning machines.Reference Cunill Grau 11
Even though the Compañía de Barcelona never achieved the importance reached in central and western Venezuela by the Real Compañía Guipuzcoana, its powerful Basque rival, it nonetheless maintained an acceptable level of operations through its small frigate fleet. Its trade with the Indies consisted primarily of cloth, bohemian crystal, wine, hard liquor and flour imports. The exports bound for the Peninsula, on the other hand, registered large amounts of payments in Mexican silver bullion, as well as large quantities of hides; but over 60% of the freight boarded consisted of an agricultural product, the cultivation of which had been successfully developed and introduced by the Trinidad-based Catalan Capuchin friars: a hybrid cocoa-bean variety still known today as trinitario. According to Humboldt, at the turn of the 19th century over one million of these trinitario cocoa trees were grown in all of Eastern Venezuela (Ref. Reference de Humboldt9, pp. 135–140). It was cocoa that provided the Compañía de Barcelona with its best financial returns on investment, but even cocoa was not enough to ensure the company’s overall survival. After a decade and a half of uninterrupted expansion, the consequences in the Caribbean of the war between Spain and Britain over the insurgent American colonies, from 1779 onwards, led to an inevitable decline. The Compañía de Barcelona was liquidated in 1784 and its assets, together with those of the Guipuzcoana, were merged to form a new corporate entity, the Compañía de Filipinas, now placed under the direct control of the Spanish crown (Ref. Reference Vila6, pp. 323–330).
These changes, however, did not affect the overall prosperity of Venezuela’s Barcelona and of its immediate hinterland. The town’s population, second only to that of Cumaná, numbered around 16,000 inhabitants in 1800, according to Humboldt (Ref. Reference de Humboldt9, pp. 48–49). The French agent François Depons, who visited the town just a few years later, added:
Half of the population is white, the other half is made up of coloured people. The latter, as in other parts, are useless for agriculture. Among the whites, there are a good number of Catalans who dedicate themselves exclusively to trade; their operations indifferently concern both licit and forbidden articles. In their frequent expeditions to Trinidad, they bring back only smuggled merchandise which they then store in Barcelona and later distribute to the other Provinces, either by sea or by land.Reference Depons 12
Recalling the period in his Memoirs, the royalist commissioner Pedro de Urquinaona commented:
Having flooded the entire province, these laborious and active tradesmen, usually devoid of any education or any other feelings than those inspired by the eagerness to hoard up riches, became, before the 1810 insurrection, the nearly exclusive owners of the Nueva Barcelona and Cumaná trade, as well as of most of the bullion generated by it. […] The majority of these men are sailors who began their business with only a few piasters and who, in a just few years, built up more or less considerable fortunes, through their frugality and industry.Reference de Urquinaona y Pardo 13
The importance achieved by Barcelona in terms of its dynamism, both demographic and economic, actually prompted the town municipal agents to put pressure on the peninsular authorities for the creation of an autonomous governorship, separated from Cumaná’s jurisdiction: a return to Juan de Orpín’s original proposal, which duly highlighted the important role now played by a Catalan community, active both with the organization of spiritual life in churches and missions and with the promotion primarily of commercial, but also of productive, activities in agriculture. ‘It is the Catalans who have taught the inhabitants of Cumaná and its neighbouring provinces to make the best out of various local products,’ particularly coconut to extract oil, or the fibre of a native variety of agave to make rope, noted the contemporary French traveller Jean-Joseph Dauxion-Lavaysse.Reference Dauxion-Lavaysse 14 Apart from their industrious dispositions, the Catalans truly constituted a self-conscious community. As Dauxion-Lavaysse further observed:
The Catalans are notoriously known for only hiring as employees individuals from their native province. When a man coming from that region lands without a cent in his pocket, the first Catalan he meets will take him home and will either offer him a job, or will recommend him to any other one of his compatriots. (Ref. Reference Dauxion-Lavaysse14, p. 252)
Often interpreted as the narrow manifestation of an enclave mentality, such an attitude – with time – came to be strongly resented by the rest of the region’s inhabitants, as the events of the Independence process soon showed.
In Barcelona, these events had already been preceded by a series of ominously repeated floods of the Neverí which, in turn, brought about a number of malignant epidemics and caused a first wave of population exodus to healthier grounds. But with the political upheaval caused by the events in Caracas and the discussions which, since the end of the year 1810, would eventually lead to Venezuela’s Declaration of Independence, in July 1811, the overall situation quickly deteriorated. The Catalan community, with very few exceptions, adamantly proclaimed its loyalty to the Spanish monarchy and either chose to emigrate to Puerto-Rico, Cuba and even to the territory of the United States, or decided to take up arms. As early as March 1811, a band of Catalan vecinos occupied the San Antonio fort overlooking Cumaná. In retaliation, the local militia captain threatened to arrest all the town’s Spanish ‘nationals’ if the insurgents did not give up their foolish attempt. The incident was resolved after only a few hours, but long-lasting mutual suspicions lingered on. 15
A similar opposition to the cause of independence was voiced by virtually all the peninsular representatives of the Church: in December 1811, the Capuchin prefect of the Aragonese missionaries denounced to the President of the Cadiz Cortes, how one of his brother friars was dragged by his beard after being repeatedly and brutally beaten by these ‘seditious elements’ (i.e. the supporters of independence), who did not fall short of ransacking property and imprisoning those who were not lucky enough to flee abroad (Ref. Reference de Carrocera8, p. 552).
Given the visible importance of the community, the local population promptly identified Catalans – whether lay or clerics – as defenders of the Crown. As the events of Venezuela’s the first republic (1811–1812) unfolded, the confiscation of land and urban property increased ‘the enervation of trade and agriculture’. But with the return of royalist rule in the second half of 1812 and the fluctuating military operations that swept through the region between 1813 and 1817, what was now an open civil war assumed practices of downright barbarity. Barcelona – with a population that, by 1819, had fallen to fewer than 2000 souls – was ransacked and evacuated several times, by patriot and royalist forces alike (Ref. Reference Cunill Grau11, p. 579).
Contemporary descriptions on either side denounced the savage crimes perpetrated. The key episode was undoubtedly that of the Casa Fuerte, Barcelona’s fortified Franciscan convent, where, in April 1817, royalist troops under the command of a coronel Juan Aldama, massacred all those patriots – civilian and military, roughly 1000 individuals – who had sought refuge within the convent’s walls, including women and children; and even ‘four missionaries who, being faithful to the King’s cause, were being kept there as prisoners’ and were thus slaughtered by mistake.Reference Landaeta Rosales 16
The Casa Fuerte episode to this day is recorded in Venezuela’s collective memory as a high point of royalist cruelty and repression. 17 By association, Eastern Venezuela’s Catalan community was viewed as one of the main responsible parties for such a turn of events. The Catalans were virtually hunted down and chased out and only those who, like Barcelona’s Planchart family, had clearly identified themselves from the start with the patriot cause, were allowed to stay. 18 Significantly, in 1904, Venezuelan historian Laureano Vallenilla Lanz was able to interview in Caracas a certain Josefita Salcedo, originally from Barcelona, who, at the age of 104, was probably at that time one of the few living witnesses of the wars of independence in Eastern Venezuela, if not the only one. According to Vallenilla:
My surprise was immense in front of such prodigious little old woman. […] Encouraged by the lucidity of her memory, I began asking her questions about those, among the inhabitants of Barcelona and Cumaná, who had fought in favour of Spain. […] Compelled by my questions, and transported by her recollections back to those mournful times, she was unable to repress the exclamation I already saw in her rugged features and in the opaque reflection of her grey eye pupils: ‘How evil they were, my son, how evil [¡ Qué malos eran, hijo, qué malos !]! […] And the Catalans, my son, the Catalans! […] They were even worse than the Spaniards themselves.’ This she almost whispered to my ear as if she feared being heard by all those dead people.Reference Vallenilla Lanz 19
Thus came to its untimely and sinister end the dream, once pursued by Juan de Orpín, to recreate a Catalan homeland beyond the seas. Barcelona survived and later thrived as a booming urban centre. Today, it is the gateway to some of the nicer beaches and tourist resorts in Eastern Venezuela. Because it is named ‘Barcelona’, everyone readily assumes that it may have a connection with its peninsular namesake; but what was the original nature of such connection is now part of a dimly remembered if not altogether forgotten past, or, as our admired colleague Norman Davies would have it, the mere remnant of one of those ‘vanished kingdoms’ of yore.
Nikita Harwich is professor of Latin American History and Civilization at the University of Paris-Nanterre. He holds degrees from Duke University and the London School of Economics and was awarded an Andrés Bello Visiting Fellowship at St. Antony’s College, Oxford University. His research and publications have focused on Latin American economic and fiscal history, commodity trade and foreign investments, as well as on the history of ideas and historiography in contemporary Latin America. He is also a specialist on the history of cocoa and chocolate.
