THE KINGDOM OF MURCIA
[Illustration: RONDA--ROMAN BRIDGES]
The province of Murcia resembles the home of the Arab race more closely
than does any other part of Europe. It is a wild, fierce region, hot and
tawny like a lion's hide, furrowed by deep winding ravines, intersected
by serrated mountains, on whose flanks, for the heat of the sun, no
green thing can grow. Much of the land is occupied by plateaux, bare and
rocky like great altars on which all that lives is offered to and
consumed by the sun. From these uplands you survey vast expanses of
sheer desert--fulvid, rocky, and scorching. Your gaze may travel far
before you descry any fitting resting-place for man. The mountains
afford no shade, even in the deepest cañons the streams are often
traceable only by a narrow path of sand and pebbles, yet here and there
has man successfully wrested from harsh Nature a secure foothold, an
oasis kept ever green by some more constant rivulet. The waters of the
Segura and the Sangonera are the life-blood of the province. Wayward and
Arethusa-like, the rivers have with infinite pains been coaxed into
conformity with the needs of man. To the science of irrigation the
province owes its existence. Water here is above all things prized and
sold like treasure to the highest bidder. Mr. Jean Brunhés in a lately
published work gives some most curious and interesting particulars
relating to the system of irrigation in force in Murcia and the
adjoining province of Alicante. The volume of the Monegre is divided
into old water and new water, the former belonging of right to the
ancient riparian proprietors, the latter to the owners of the locks and
reservoirs. A very vicious system prevails at Lorca. There a private
company is the owner of all the water of the Guadalentin, subject to the
condition of supplying the old proprietors of the adjoining lands with
500 litres per second every day. In consequence, in times of drought the
company is mistress of the situation and can force up prices to a figure
absolutely ruinous to the cultivators. Only in this way can it make good
the losses incurred in rainy seasons. The precious fluid being sold,
too, by public auction, the rich farmer is in a position to deprive his
poorer rivals of their means of subsistence. To palliate this evil to
some extent, the rule now obtains that the bidder who has bought the
first lot can buy as many of the lots following as he may desire at the
same figure. The price therefore is not forced up too rapidly. Moreover,
if the company's barrage at a certain point is swept away or broken
through by the current, the water which thus escapes becomes public
property. This accident occurs five or six times a year, and the
company is not allowed to make the barrage any stronger when it is
rebuilt. Notwithstanding these concessions, it seems that the principle
of private enterprise has been pushed too far in this part of the world.
Mr. Brunhés described the sale of water at Lorca in the following words:
"The sale takes place in a badly-lit hall with naked walls, on a level
with the street, with which it communicates by an immense door almost
its own breadth. This door remains open during the sale and the crowd of
bidders stand partly in the street. The hall has no floor--you stand on
the bare ground. Opposite the door at the end of the hall is a
railed-off dais entered by a side door, and without any direct
communication with the public side. On the dais the secretaries are
seated at a large table covered by a threadbare green cloth. Behind the
table are five arm-chairs. In one is seated the presiding officer (a
civil engineer who must own no land in the 'Vega'). On a stool is
stationed the crier.
"At eight o'clock in the morning, at a sign from the presiding officer,
the crier pronounces these words in a singing monotonous voice and
without any pause between the two phrases: 'In honour of the Holy
Sacrament of the altar, who buys the first lot of Sotellana?'
Immediately shouts go up 'Eight, nine, ten reals!' One voice overpowers
the other, wide-open mouths vociferate loudly, necks are strained,
muscles grow tense with excitement. The bidders press and crush
each other against the iron railing, for the one nearest has the best
chance of being heard. The presiding officer listens, and follows the
frantic shouting with sovereign calm. Suddenly, with a quick gesture, he
designates the highest bidder. At once the clamour ceases. Amid absolute
silence the man indicated calls out his name, which the clerks write
down.
"The men are hatless. Some wear black or dark-coloured handkerchiefs
bound round their heads, but all hold their broad-brimmed hats in their
hands. No one smokes or talks till the bidding recommences, and even
those in the street are silent and bare-headed. It is easy to see that
all are peasants. Heads are closely cropped; here are no beards or
moustaches, no one wears a collar, and most carry a cloak other than the
aristocratic 'Capa' on the shoulders or arm. It is a curious and
impressive sight enough, these bronzed physiognomies animated by one
desire to obtain possession as cheaply as may be of the supreme good,
water."
[Illustration: RONDA--AT THE FOUNTAIN]
Before the industry of man had harnessed the wayward streams this hot
land must have been little better than an arid wilderness, yet it has
been inhabited from the remotest times, and its possession was keenly
contested between the great powers of antiquity. The natives were known
to the ancients as the Mastiani, and are credited with the virtues which
were so long supposed to have been characteristic of primitive man. This
simple, blameless race fell an easy victim to the wily Phœnicians,
who scented the precious metals within these barren hills. Elche,
Guadix, and Jijona betray in their etymology a Semitic origin. Next came
the Greek Vikings from Samos and Rhodes and Phokaia, establishing
themselves at many points along the eastern shore of the Iberian land.
The rivalry between the Phœnician and Hellenic colonies precipitated
a contest between their respective allies, the Carthaginians and the
Romans. Hasdrubal founded the port of New Carthage, the name of which is
still preserved in Cartagena, whence, with a host of 90,000 foot and
12,000 horse, Hannibal started on his famous march to Rome. The fall of
the city, which was bravely defended by Mago against Scipio, entailed
the destruction of the Punic power in Spain.
Under the Roman yoke Carthago Nova became the capital of the vast
province of Tarraconensis, and the adjoining district in consequence
felt the full force of all the attacks made by rebels and barbarians on
the tottering empire. Under the Visigoths it was erected into a duchy by
the name of Aurariola. The Duke Theodomir, unlike most of his peers,
offered a strenuous resistance to the Moslem arms, and when defeated in
battle and besieged in Orihuela, succeeded by a stratagem in preserving
his territory. By disguising all the women as warriors and parading them
on the walls, he so deceived the Moors as to the strength of the
garrison as to obtain from them a recognition of the independence of the
duchy, subject to the suzerainty of the khalifa.
The province became known after its chief by the name of Todmir. It
endured as an autonomous state for some sixty-eight years, its final
absorption in the Moslem empire being brought about by the last dukes
espousing the cause of Charlemagne or his Moorish allies. Arabic
colonists poured in and soon out-numbered the Christian inhabitants. The
last province of Spain to bow before the Crescent became rapidly the
most Moorish of any.
Cartagena and Orihuela, the old Visigothic centres, declined, and
Murcia, practically a Mohammedan foundation, took their place. The city
rivalled Toledo and Cordova as a manufactory of arms and munitions of
war. It underwent the usual vicissitudes of Moorish states, forming now
part of one kingdom, now of another, at times independent, more often
subject to Valencia, Granada, or Cordova. Finally, in 1243, Abu Bekr,
the titular amir of Murcia, acknowledged the suzerainty of Castile, only
to repudiate it in 1252. The war lasted some time, but the desertion of
Al Ahmar of Granada left Abu Bekr at the mercy of the Christians. Murcia
was taken in 1266 by Don Jaime of Aragon, who immediately handed over
his conquest to his son-in-law, Alfonso of Castile. The step, though
probably not dictated by motives of policy, was a wise one, for it left
a sort of buffer state between Aragon and Granada, and preserved the
frontiers of the former kingdom from molestation by the Moors for the
next two centuries.
The town of Murcia has completely rid itself of all outward evidences of
its erstwhile subjection to Islam. Gone is the Alcazar, where the amirs
mimicked the state of Cordova and Toledo, gone is the wall which kept
the Christian out, gone is the mosque wherein thousands of turbaned
heads were bowed daily towards Mecca. Yet in the narrow dark streets
like the Sierpes of Seville, across which awnings are stretched, we
might recognize something of the East, were not such thoroughfares
equally characteristic of the Christian South. The Calles de la Traperia
and de la Plateria, however, irresistibly recall Smyrna. They lead into
one of those dazzling white, dusty squares which every Southern and
Eastern city boasts, and which is always named in Spain after the
Constitution, in Italy after Victor Emmanuel, and in France after the
Republic. Murcia is hotter than Seville, and the passage of this plaza
between eleven in the forenoon and five in the afternoon requires the
courage of a Mutius Scævola. In the evening you may join the citizens in
their promenade upon the Malecon, which affords a charming view of the
rich "huerta" or vale of the Segura. This is described by Mr. Brunhés as
"an admirable zone of model agricultural establishments. The soil is
levelled and prepared for irrigation with geometrical precision. To each
particular crop corresponds a design with little shelving beds of
special forms." Not an inch of ground is wasted; on the summit of the
slopes, for instance, sweet potatoes are planted at regular
intervals. The cereals and vegetables are tended with special care,
almost individually. The melons are protected by coverings. No one can
visit the environs of Murcia without being impressed by the
extraordinary industry and thriftiness of its people. And field labour
in this climate must be arduous in the extreme. But no doubt the
mythical "dolce far niente" Spaniard will continue for many years to
haunt the back streets of literature in company with the big-toothed
English girl, her red-whiskered parent, and other creations of ignorance
and prejudice.
[Illustration: RONDA--A MOORISH GATEWAY]
Murcia cannot be called an interesting town. It has only one
"sight"--and that not of first-class interest--the Cathedral. This
occupies, as usual, the site of the mosque, and dates in its oldest part
from 1368. The west front was restored in the seventeenth century,
fortunately before the decay of Spanish art had become too conspicuous.
The interior produces a good effect, though robbed of much of its
interest by a fire some sixty years ago. The choir stalls are good, as
they generally are in this country of clever wood-carvers, and came from
a suppressed monastery in the neighbourhood. The reredos is modern and
poor. With a glance at the urn containing the internal organs of Alfonso
the Learned, we pass on to the beautiful and interesting Junteron
Chapel. This was founded in 1515 by the Archdeacon of Lorca, Don Gil
Junteron, and is in the most exuberant Renaissance style. It is
astonishing that where the figures and designs are so numerous, so
intermingled, and so complicated, each should be sculptured with such
exquisite skill and correctness. The Velez Chapel is a little earlier,
and was evidently modelled on the Constable's Chapel at Burgos. The
style, as might be expected, reminds one also of the Chapel Royal at
Granada. Parts of it, says Don Rodrigo Amador de los Rios, evidence the
painful caprices and aberrations which announce the death agony of a
powerful art in its decline. It would be dangerous to express such an
opinion in Murcia, where the chapel is accounted the eighth and greatest
wonder of the world. In somewhat more restrained terms the sacristan
will call your attention to the panelling and lockers in the Sacristy,
which occupies the centre of the graceful steeple, and certainly
deserves the epithet of sumptuous, so liberally bestowed in Spain.
Much older than Murcia, Cartagena has preserved even fewer monuments of
antiquity, though it has not lost the military character first impressed
upon it by its founder Hasdrubal. For this is the first arsenal of
Spain, and perhaps its strongest fortress. Its splendid sheltered
harbour is defended by powerful forts and formidable batteries. Their
fire has not always been directed upon the enemies of Spain. For many
months in the year 1873 over them waved the red flag of the
"Intransigentes," the extreme communistic republicans, who,
simultaneously with the Carlists of the north, threatened ruin to
Castelar's government at Madrid. The acquisition of the great national
arsenal without firing a shot was, of course, of the utmost
advantage to these determined revolutionaries. They disposed of 583
pieces of ordnance, including twenty-eight Krupp guns, with 180,000
shells and 4,332 quintals of powder. In addition they were supported by
the ironclad frigates Numancia, Vittoria, Tetuan, and Mendez Nuñez. The
garrison, in addition to the enthusiastic population, included several
revolted battalions of regular troops under the command of General
Contreras. The communist Junta was presided over by Don Antonio Gálvez.
[Illustration: RONDA--A STREET SCENE]
Against this terrible stronghold of the revolution, General Martinez
Campos advanced with an army from Madrid with orders to reduce the place
with the utmost despatch. This was easier said than done. Supplies were
lacking; the advantage in artillery lay entirely with the besieged. The
Carlists effected diversions in favour of the Intransigentes--an odd
coalition. Meantime, three of the revolutionary vessels were seized by
the Prussian squadron as pirates--an utterly unjustifiable interference
with the domestic affairs of another State. We might as reasonably have
seized the vessels of the Confederate States in 1864. The Prussians and
Italians exacted, moreover, a war indemnity of 50,000 pesetas from the
Cantonal Junta, which body became a prey to internal dissensions. One of
its members was assassinated. Taking advantage of these embarrassments
of the besieged, the republican troops redoubled their efforts. Señor
Castelar came down from Madrid to assume the supreme command, and
Martinez Campos was superseded by General Lopéz Dominguez. An incessant
bombardment was kept up, the besieged responding shell by shell. In
January the frigate Tetuan was burnt to the water's edge, and a day or
two later the explosion of the gun park destroyed hundreds of the
garrison. The end was near. The city had for half a year defied almost
the whole kingdom, and withstood the covert attacks of foreign Powers.
Among the revolutionaries were men who burned to emulate the Numantians,
and to make of themselves, the whole population, and the city, one vast
blazing hecatomb. Before this desperate resolution could be executed,
the Government troops forced their way into wretched, blood-drenched
Cartagena. Gálvez, Contreras, and the leaders of the cantonal movement
escaped by sea in the ironclad Numancia, which far exceeded the
Government vessels in speed, and took refuge in Algeria. Thus collapsed
a movement which was, after the Commune of Paris, the most determined
organized attempt ever made to subvert the existing constitution of
European society.
I have given at some length this chapter in the history of Cartagena,
partly because the town has little interest in itself, and partly
because these events, though so recent and so significant, are never so
much as alluded to by most writers of travel books. Out of so much evil
good came at last, for these wellnigh fatal disorders opened the eyes of
the Spaniards to the instability of the Madrid Government, and
formed the prelude to the reign of peace inaugurated by the accession to
the throne of King Alfonso XII.
[Illustration: RONDA--THE MARKET]
Apart from its historical associations, Murcia repays the attention of
the traveller less than any other province of Spain. Fortunately, almost
the only places of interest it contains--the ones I have mentioned--lie
on or close to the direct route from Granada into the old kingdom of
Valencia.