The Price of a Full Belly
The lives of Spanish peasants are loose and pastoral. Since they receive nothing for their back-breaking labor, they see no reason to work themselves to the bone. If one is destined to starve regardless of whether they are diligent or lazy, wouldn't it be better to just lie down and starve in comfort?
"You! You lazy, good-for-nothing wretches!!!"
The village headman, who also served as the overseer, grabbed the back of his neck and flew into a rage. But the tenant farmers standing before him only groaned, "Aigoo, aigoo," putting on a show of misery while moving with agonizing slowness.
"Hey! What is the meaning of this! You did all of this last year! Look at the village next door! If anything, they worked even harder!"
"Aigoo, Master! Those folks are fed bread, chicken, and even sausage, so of course they’re full of energy! We’re so hungry our stomachs are sticking to our spines—where are we supposed to find the strength?"
"I give you bread! Right here! What you ate this morning!"
The headman fumed, shaking a bread basket. Inside lay black bread made of three parts rye and barely one part wheat flour.
"Aigoo, Master! The stuff you give us is just black 'stone-bread' made of rye that won't even let a tooth sink in! The stuff those other folks eat is fluffy, real wheat bread fit for humans, isn't it? How can people who have to chew on rocks like beasts compete with folks who eat well and have strength?"
"So you’re saying you won't do it? You don't want to till this land starting next year?"
When threatened with the loss of their tenancy, the farmer who had been crawling on the ground cried out, "Aigoo! Aigoo!"
"Master, just try feeding us greasy meat, plump chicken, and bread fit for humans until our bellies are warm! We wouldn't just do ten days of work—we'd finish a hundred days in the blink of an eye!"
"Are you throwing a tantrum for wheat bread now!"
"Master, did we ask for that snow-white bread the noble lords eat? Even if it's a bit coarse and scratches the roof of our mouths, you have to at least give us bread that's half wheat flour so we have the energy to work!"
"You insolent fools!"
The overseer couldn't take it anymore and raised his club. But the farmers didn't sit up; they simply lay down flat.
"Aigoo, go ahead and hit us! It's a hundred times better to get beaten and lie here than to dig the earth while clutching our starving guts. But Master, if we collapse from a beating because we have no strength, who’s going to farm the land next year?"
"There are plenty of people in this land who will work besides you!"
"We're human beings too! If you go to that Marquis's estate, they bake bread this big for them, let them raise chickens, and give them sausages in the winter! But what about here?"
The farmer continued to speak to the overseer while lying on the ground.
"Even the precious rye we get for our work is half-stolen by that wicked miller, and if we try to bake what's left, we have to pay for firewood, pay for this, pay for that... You're skinning us alive! Is this living, or is this just struggling to keep from dying?"
"Ugh! You! Argh!!!!"
The headman of the village near Palencia, serving as the lord's overseer, felt like his blood pressure would kill him as the tenant farmers openly engaged in a work slowdown during the critical planting season.
The stewards and lords in this vicinity were facing an unexpected crisis following the bumper harvest. The tenant farmers, who had been docile during the years of famine, were now clamoring for a larger share, using the standards of Marquis Juan's peasants as their benchmark.
"Listen up, because we're going to say this clearly! Just like the children of that household, we need to eat! We need at least 50, no, at least 40 panegas of bread per household a year! Shouldn't we be eating 100 libras of sausage and salted pork fat? If you don't provide 400 libras of beans on top of that, we're putting down our tools, so keep that in mind!"
The amount of grain and meat Marquis Juan distributed to his six-person households was already legendary. With a bit of exaggeration, they said he gave nearly double the bread and meat; it sounded unbelievable, but seeing the chubby cheeks of the village children, it was likely true.
"Why wouldn't I give it to you if you farmed as well as they do! Have you forgotten that you ruined the harvest last year and emptied the granaries?"
"I don't care about last year right now; this year, our harvest is just as good as theirs! So why do you keep making excuses! If we worked that hard, you should give us what we're owed!"
At least this year, they hadn't fallen behind. They had nothing to say about last year or the years before, but this year they had reaped a bountiful harvest. In terms of pure wheat, they had certainly harvested twice as much as the people on the Marquis's estate. That was why the tenant farmer Juan made his demand with confidence.
"Do you think you'd survive if you went there? You know it as well as I do! The people living there have to work all year round!"
"Aha, even if we have to work like oxen in the scorching sun all day, it's better than a cow that's full of pride dying of starvation!"
The overseer shouted, "There are plenty of people who will work besides you!" but in truth, it was a bluff. The harvest season had passed, but if the farmers lay down during the planting season saying, "Aigoo, I'm too hungry to work," it wasn't the tenant farmers who would be ruined—it would be the profits of the lord he served, and his own neck on the line.
"Haa... alright, what is it you want to eat so badly?"
"Aha, brother! Can we really say it?"
The farmer who had been idling on the ground jumped up. His mouth was full of a sly smile.
"Speak! You rascals! You said you need to eat to work!"
At the overseer's command, the farmers who had been lying down stood up one by one and said:
"I heard the beef at that Marquis's estate is so delicious~"
"I heard that if you boil Olla Podrida with it, it’s very rich and tasty?"
The meat of cows that had been raised for 12 years and then rested for three months while being fed barley was legendary in the region. Among the farmers who lamented that they lived worse than the Marquis's cows, the rumor that the Marquis's beef was delicious was accepted as fact.
They couldn't even dream of the tender tenderloin that went to the nobles' tables, but the leftover beef was boiled thoroughly with beans to make Olla Podrida, and it was said to be incredibly delicious, with the fat glistening from the three months of barley feeding.
"Hey!!!!"
The overseer shouted in disbelief at the farmers' request for beef.
"Aha, did we ask for the tenderloin the noble lords eat? We just want to taste a beef broth that’s tough as leather, that’s all!"
"Geez, you told us to say what we wanted to eat! Why are you getting angry again?"
"Do you have no conscience!"
When the overseer shouted, the tenant farmer Juan replied:
"The ones without a conscience are you and the master. God has granted us a bumper harvest and wheat is rotting away, so does it make sense to give us rye bread instead of wheat bread?"
There were those who had gone bankrupt trying to raise 'Don Quixote' wheat, but there were also many who had copied the wheat and earned silver coins. They had been trembling in fear after the official ruling in Madrid and the religious circles that the rights to the 'Don Quixote' seeds belonged formally to Marquis Juan, and using them without his permission would not receive the Church's blessing.
However, when Marquis Juan told them, "The people below might have made a mistake. But Don Quixote is a seed that is very picky about the soil, so you must examine the land well before planting," everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Those who had been full of plans to insist that their wheat wasn't Don Quixote if anyone demanded the profits they’d made from it praised the Marquis's magnanimity and hid their seeds well.
Ahead of the October planting, the landowners of the Valladolid region gathered at Marquis Juan's estate. Because he had sent word, "If you want to raise Don Quixote, there are points you must be careful about, so send your staff to hear what is necessary," the landowners who wanted to copy the wheat one more time sent their staff or came themselves.
"Well, thank you all for coming. The spread is modest, but please, eat your fill. Had I known such distinguished guests would come, I wouldn't have prepared such a rustic meal."
"It’s grain grown by Marquis Juan himself; it’s not a rustic meal, but a refined one! Isn't that right, everyone?"
"Marquis. I didn't know the Marquis would welcome us like this."
Even those who had been badmouthing Juan gathered, curious about what kind of secret tips he was going to pass on to make them send their staff.
The meal was abundant but rustic. The banquet, featuring Olla Podrida—which was closer to a stew than a soup, packed with grain, vegetables, and beef—felt more like the bounty of the harvest than aristocratic flair.
The Marquis's banquet, where both wine and beer were prepared, showed the strange sight of guests drinking beer when the Marquis drank beer, and wine when he drank wine.
"I brought people from Bavaria because they say they brew beer well, but I think it’s still lacking."
"Hahahaha, isn't that just how those Germans are?"
The drinks flowed and the bountiful table continued. Then, a man sitting alone at the head table spoke.
"Aren't you treating your tenant farmers too well, Marquis?"
Juan Francisco Pimentel, the 9th Count of Benavente. He was the head of the Pimentel family, a Grandee even without being a Duke.
A massive family estate stretching from Leon to Zamora. The center, the Duchy of Benavente, was located where three rivers met. That land, which monopolized the water resources of the Esla River, Tera River, and Órbigo River on this arid Castilian plateau, was the most fertile land in Castile.
The fertile alluvial deposits left by the three rivers, the river water coming from eternal snows that didn't dry up even in droughts, and the low river flow variability made it perfect for building watermills and utilizing the power of water.
With the title of "Shield of Castile," guarding the border with Portugal—which was a foreign country, even if currently in a dynastic union—and a formally held private army, it was truly the pinnacle of a traditional noble family.
"By nature, one must treat peasants so that they do not die, but also so that they cannot live, in order for them to harbor respect for the masters who sustain their wretched lives."
Castile was already experiencing population decline. Labor was precious. But there was no intention to pay the price for it. The Count believed that managing peasants through hunger and fear was more economical.
As he said that and stood up, the atmosphere of the banquet turned cold.
"Since you do not set foot in Madrid or high society, I have come to say a word."
"I will speak directly. Do not break the rules of this land, and feed them rye bread and bones. I can understand your wretched circumstances, serving such rustic dishes without venison or spices at a banquet, but it would be better to properly prepare a banquet for nobles with the silver coins you use to feed the lowly."
He only touched the wine to his lips and did not touch any of the other food at all.
A group of nobles who had been in the banquet hall followed him as he stood up. The Count of Benavente, leading his followers out of the banquet hall, looked at me and said:
"I will take my leave first. No need to see me out, so take my words to heart."
"Oh my! How can this be! How can a guest treat the host's hospitality this way!"
"Even if it is the House of Benavente, this is ignoring the law too much!"
"To ignore the customs of hospitality! Does that man not even know bread and salt?"
Those hostile to me all left together, and those who remained were either favorable to me or under my influence. They defended me and criticized the Count of Benavente.
-Clap, clap
"Now! It’s alright. Since things have turned out this way, let’s talk about work!"
I gathered their attention with a clap and handed out a booklet to each of the nobles, or their representatives.
Written by Herrera. 1628 Juan Manuel Revised Edition.
I tried my best to spread agricultural knowledge to them. Surely they had understood at least crop rotation, green manure, and fertilizer application methods, right?
Author's Note
Thank you to Gong-sang-ga-nim, Dol-chung-nim, and SilverWalker-nim for the support! Alright! Another chapter goes up!
It's Juan again, seriously... How are the names of all the real historical figures Juan...
"One must collect taxes from the people (peasants) so that they do not die, but also so that they cannot live (so that they have neither surplus nor lack of property)." I referenced the maxims of Tokugawa Ieyasu. In reality, this figure accomplished that during his time as Viceroy of Naples, causing Naples to participate in a rebellion. However, he was a trusted figure to the Shogun because he was incredibly good at collecting taxes.
He may be called a Count, but he is one of the strongest 7 Grandees. He did not let go of real power until the end. The entire border with Portugal, stretching from Leon to Zamora, was his estate.