So far, our quest to demystify this hidden hamlet has led us from its halcyon days of Moorish prosperity, through the lean years of medieval feudalism, and right up to the threshold of the Early Modern period. 

To continue our journey, let us take the year 1500 as a point of departure. By this time, the rebirth of art and culture that we call the Renaissance had radiated outward from its Italian origins, ushering in an era of progress all over Europe. Ibiza, despite its insularity, was not impervious to this influence and experienced its very own revival, most noticeably in Dalt Vila. As examples of Renaissance renewal we may cite the rebuilding of the city walls in 1554 as well as a heightening and refining of musical expression under the influence of the Church. At Jesús, the magnificent Osona altarpiece, technically Late Gothic but clearly influenced by the Cinquecento, was installed in 1500. On the rest of the island, however, the spirit of the age was expressed not in the arts but rather in increased agrarian productivity. Considered in this light, we might say that the little settlement of Balàfia stood at the vanguard of Ibicenco renaissance culture – ‘agri-culture’ being the more exact term.

 

Rural Cornucopia

As feudal bonds were replaced by family-owned freeholds and sharecropping contracts, Balàfia steadily regained its old prominence as a hub of agrarian enterprise. This inland domain comprised one of the island’s most diverse pockets of fertility, bountiful in every type of fruit and resource the Mediterranean ecosystem could provide. The tillage nearest the hamlet was fed by two fresh-water springs, thus enabling the cultivation of irrigated crops such as fruit and vegetables. At a short remove from the hamlet lay non-irrigated fields, where the important dry-land staples of olives, carobs, almonds, grain, figs and grapes furnished non-perishable harvests that could either be consumed or used as mediums of exchange. Farther out, thick forests supplied firewood, timber, charcoal and pitch tar, all gainful industries of the pre-industrial age. 

This fortunate combination of natural resources made Balàfia one of the island’s most successful farming communities. Proof of its prosperity is evidenced by the existence of two ‘trulls’, or oil presses (still intact at their original locations) that powered a lucrative micro-economy based on the olive harvest. We may safely assume that neighbouring farmers also brought their olives to Balàfia for processing inasmuch as it was quite exceptional for two oil presses to exist in such close proximity. Payment for this service was customarily rendered in kind, by giving either a portion of the expressed oil or, alternately, a few sacks of whole olives.

 

Pirates

The flip side to this happy picture is that Balàfia became a recurrent target for pirate raids. Because the major attacks were recorded in the annals of the Town Hall, we have a good idea of what experiencing such an event must have been like. Translated from the original Catalan, the following excerpts describe two raids on Balàfia. The first, a locus classicus of pirate brutality, dates back to 1538:

 

"Today, XVIII of July, Friday morning, there arrived from the island of Formentera 25 ships, galleons and galleasses. Said Moors set off from Vila and set fire to all of Salinas or part of them, which is to say, bundles of wheat on the threshing ground, houses, towers and anything in their path. The next day they set off toward Santa Eulària and there set fire to the whole parish and then reached Balàfia, setting fire to the towers. And from there, after a few days, they went back to Formentera. " 

 

A second account from 1543 states that:

 

"On the day of XII October there arrived 20 galleons and 3 galleasses of Moors; they reached the river of Santa Eulària and there many Turks disembarked and they went to Balàfia and Arabí . . .”

 

It was sheer, desperate self-defence that propelled the farmers to build not one but two towers, which – like their trulls – stood in uncommonly close proximity to one another. Thus, in answer to our original query, we may conclude that Balàfia’s aggregation into a fortified multiple residence responded to the ongoing threat of predatory pillage. 

 

Watch Towers and Refuge Towers 

Let us take a moment to consider the two types of towers that existed in Ibiza, both now emblematic of the island’s architectural landscape. On the one hand, watch towers were defensive structures raised at intervals along the coastline by military engineers commissioned by the island’s temporal authorities. Refuge towers, on the other hand, were non-subsidized inland structures, usually attached to a farmhouse, and built by peasants for the purpose of self-protection during pirate raids.  

Eduardo Posadas, author of Torres y Piratas en las Pitiusas, supplies a helpful overview of the territorial instability under which the Pityuses laboured for centuries: 

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“With the conquest of 1235 now a fait accompli and the euphoria of victory gone, the new lords had to face the very same problems of defence their predecessors had, for which reason their immediate concern was that of preparing against a possible retaliation on the part of the Arabs[Moors] to try to recover the islands. As time went on, while no large-scale disembarkation ever took place, the seeds had been sown for a chronic state of alarm arising from a continual series of small actions by Turkish-Berber ships…. The string of towers along the coasts of Ibiza and Formentera…responds to a coordinated concept of territorial defence….”

 

Addressing the problem of the poor peasant on his farm, Posadas observes that, “[Pirate] attacks were so frequent, so bold and so bloody that the profound terror they produced in the islanders spurred private initiative…” Herein lies the mainspring behind the many refuge towers that dotted the Ibicenco landscape between the 15th and 18th centuries. 

Ibiza’s property register references 114 praedial towers (a term used to designate a rural tower attached to a farm, as opposed to a coastal tower), although only sixty-nine still exist. Those found at Balàfia are among the earliest examples of this type of structure – consequent from the swift resurgence of prosperity there – and, as we shall see, present several unique features that differentiate them from the general typology found elsewhere on the island. 

 

Balàfia’s Particularities

First, let us formally identify Balàfia’s towers. One stands at Can Fornàs, about 100 metres away from a second tower at Can Pere de na Bet, both located in the seven-house complex that today bears the name Balàfia. A third tower, at Can Pere Mosson, stands less than half a kilometre down the track, just outside the Balàfia complex but still part of the 'venda' or parochial district that bore the same name. 

The first singularity we observe, present in all three towers, is the existence of three storeys rather than two. Given that the two-storey arrangement will arise later as a constant in Ibicenco coastal towers (all of which date to the 18th century), the three-storey design is thought to be a medieval usage, subsequently modified owing to the influence of military engineers, whose methods and techniques the peasants no doubt scrutinized and copied. If this reasoning is correct, Balàfia’s towers would predate the majority of rural refuge towers in Ibiza. 

Another anomaly found in the Balàfia triad is the presence of raised entrances, located on the first rather than the ground floor and accessed by climbing up a wooden ladder, which was then retracted inside the tower to prevent pursuers from gaining entry. We may assume that the pirates did give chase to the fleeing peasants, based on the presence of loopholes (apertures in the upper exterior wall) and parapets on the roof, elements that vouch for the retaliatory use of firearms on the part of the defenders. What these firearms may have been remains conjectural, but, based on the weaponry of the age, the islanders would have had access to rifles or other types of hand-held guns, as well as to gunpowder, from which they would have confected homemade bombs. 

Whether the peasants’ attempts at retaliation were successful or not is hard to say, but one is inclined to think that often they were not. Prayer was probably as useful an arm as any against the fury of assault, and there is ample reason to believe that peasants resorted to religious imploration to stave off attacks. One of Balàfia’s towers, (Can Pere de na Bet) displays an unusual graffito whitewashed onto its exterior wall: a comet or shooting star, depicted by a cross with a descending tail. This drawing, maintained to the present day, originated during the tower’s heyday and, according to architect and author Joan Josep Serra, this type of figure conveys “an evident meaning of symbolic protection.” Thus, when all else failed, a simple plea sent heavenward was the Balafians’ last resort.

Balàfia’s final departure from standard defence architecture is evidenced by the chamber ceilings. Of the towers’ three interior chambers, only one has a vaulted ceiling, while the other two have flat ceilings. In coastal towers and most other rural towers, the ceilings on both floors are vaulted, so, once again, we may conclude that flat ceilings were probably a holdover from an earlier age. Serra reflects on the significance of these features

 

“Perhaps [Balafia’s] differences derive from their chronology, presumably older than the majority of refuge towers that have been conserved. It would not be unrealistic to consider the possibility – although we do not have enough facts at our disposal to draw any firm conclusions – that the origin of these towers is medieval, perhaps Islamic, and that the presence of three floors was a characteristic trait of the island’s earliest praedial towers.”

 

Parish Rights Granted

As the sands of time elapsed, the cycles of sowing and reaping continued down the centuries. Through them all, Balàfia endured its mixed blessing of prosperity and piracy. Eventually, in 1785, it was decided that a fortified church would be built less than a kilometre away from the hamlet. The decree was handed down by Ibiza’s new bishop, Abad y Lasierra, who, after touring the island on the back of a mule, wrote these words: 

 

"In the interior of the island there is a pleasant and fertile territory, bathed by streams, called Balàfia . . . The graciousness of the spot as well as the spiritual needs of its inhabitants advocate the erection of a newly created parish under the patronage of Saint Lawrence the Martyr. There is a population of close to 100 families . . .”

 

When the church was raised, the new name of Sant Llorenç came to be applied to the whole of the parochial district with only the cluster of houses and towers retaining its former designation. And so it should be, for this was the very heart of Balàfia, a heart that, deep in the folds of history, is still beating.