CHAPTER VII
THE KINGDOM OF MURCIA
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."
