From Carthagena I came to the capital of the old kingdom of Murcia by diligence, a distance of about thirty miles, and arrived in time to witness the principal ceremony of the Holy Week. The road passed through a dull and uninteresting country, traversing a grey volcanic region for a considerable distance across the mountain, without vegetation, when the fruitful valley of Murcia appeared of a sudden, not unlike an oasis in the desert. The irrigated valley is prolific in orange, lemon, mulberry, and other trees. The city contains forty thousand inhabitants; it is very quiet, being the residence of many aristocratic families, as may be seen from the armorial bearings on the fronts of the houses. The streets are narrow, and the buildings fancifully painted. There is an air of ease and comfort about the male peasantry, with their gay striped mantles, and the fancy embroidered drapery of the women, in groups on festival occasions, fills up the picture. The public walks, here, are very agreeable. The view of the Vega, or valley, from the Cathedral dome, and the circular city, with its blue flat roofs and cane pigeon-houses, is charming, as also the prospect of the country in the distance, with its drooping palm trees and flowery fields and gardens. The cathedral rises in divisions not unlike a spyglass drawn out, and surmounted by a dome.
The Holy Week has just drawn to a close. Having passed several of these festivals in Jerusalem, Rome, Havana, and Lima, I was anxious to witness the religious ceremonies, here, and compare them with those of the countries I have named. I find they outstrip the latter in the detail, but are less grand and impressive. The people pride themselves on the rich wood carvings of one Francisco Larcillo, who lived in the last century, and whose work is found in the churches, also in the figures which form part of the procession, and which are admirably executed. It was curious to watch the country people, of both sexes, in their gay Spanish costumes, crowding the streets to see the figures personifying the acts and sufferings of Christ; the Saviour being represented to the life, supporting the weight of a heavy cross, the wood-work of which was covered with tortoise-shell, and tipped with gold, his hair streaming at full length, and the blood trickling from the wounds of the golden crown of thorns. The platform rested upon the shoulders of twelve men, who were provided with crutches with which to rest themselves at the stations. The figures of Mary, the mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalen, and St. Peter, with the keys, were upon similar platforms, covered with silks and satins, tinsel and gold, with a profusion of artificial and natural flowers. Among the number is Christ and the Twelve Apostles surrounding the table of the last supper, which is abundantly supplied with meats, fruits, and confectionery, very tastefully arranged. The almost naked and bleeding form of Christ submitting to the flagellation, is represented by the hideous figure of a monster who has fallen from exhaustion, while others are drawn to take the cords that bind him to the stake. The immense procession is headed by bands of music, the priesthood in full regalia, the military and civil officers, followed by a company of Nazarenes in armor, with lances, who go through a sham fight, the whole succeeded by the military, and as many as five hundred persons, bare-footed, of all ages and sizes, dressed in white cotton cloth hoods and skirts, their loins girded with cords. The hoods or masks contain two holes for sight. The persons who wear these masks support a black crucifix of some weight upon their shoulders. The streets are crowded to excess, and the balconies are filled with sparkling-eyed senoritas and groups of friends. The anxiety of the crowd to get a peep at the procession, with the confusion, made it more a festival or jubilee than a religious ceremony. The night procession with torches, after the crucifixion, with the lifeless and mutilated body of Christ, surrounded by his weeping mother and the attending groups, was more quiet, and more solemn and imposing. High mass was numerously attended in the Cathedral on the morning of the Resurrection, when at ten o’clock the bells of the city churches thundered forth the glad tidings that the Saviour had risen, and induced many to huzza it. I had to take refuge in a shop for a half hour from the merciless peltings of those on the house-tops and in the balconies, who threw ashes, sand, and earthen missiles, not unlike the Brazilian wax-balls of lemon size, filled with water, only more difficult to dispose of. It was a temporary diversion, and was taken in good part: but some funny scenes and dirty faces were the consequence.
Having visited on a former occasion all the southern cities of Spain, and having now completed the eastern coast on the Mediterranean, I must turn my face towards Madrid, and have a fatiguing ride for upwards of two hundred miles, in heavy lumbering diligences, over rough roads, with miserable Posadas, or inns. The roads are now considered tolerably safe, being protected by civil guards, who have arrested and shot many of the highwaymen.
I shall take Aranjuez, the Versailles of the Spanish court, en route to Madrid.
LXXXVI.
Madrid, April 15, 1853.
Ensconced in the bedina, or front compartment of a huge lumbering diligence, at two o’clock in the morning, I left Murcia, behind eight mules, a postillion, and two drivers, with the prospect of a hard ride, over a very uninteresting country, of sixty Spanish leagues—which are unlike any other for length—the “Camino Real,” or royal road, being neglected, and in consequence of the winter rains, in horrible order. The wheel mules are attached to the pole, and guided without bits; the others draw by long straggling ropes; the coachman sits in the box with his long whip, and his assistant, who jumps down from time to time and pelts the animals with sticks, stones, and mud. The postillion rides a horse beside the first led mule; he is required where the roads are the worst, and he keeps the track. The mules all have their titles, and seem to understand the incessant cries, from the India-rubber lungs of the driver, of Carpintero, Zapetero, Carbonero, and the whole catalogue of names. The long ears of the animal named, are pricked up, and his best efforts are made under the cut of the lash, or the whizzing of a stone past his head.
We pushed through a dreary and uninteresting country some twenty leagues, with occasional fertile valleys and indifferent villages, to the Sheffield of Spain, the town of Albacete, where we passed the night. It is noted in Spain for the manufacture of arms. Population ten thousand. We were soon surrounded by venders of poniards, stilettos, and small punalicos, or knives, which the women are said to conceal in their garters. The Spaniard is very expert in the use of the knife, and with it concealed under his capa, or cloak, is a dangerous enemy. The inns are generally great, barn-like stone buildings, with open patios, or courts, for the entrance of animals and vehicles. The rooms are generally dirty, with no furniture except cot-beds; and after an oily garlicky supper, the fleas, and kicking and thrashing of the mules all night, one is prepared for a comfortable nap in the diligence over a rough road. The bread is generally excellent throughout Spain, and chocolate can always be procured.
We made long, tiresome distances, over barren treeless plains, with no water for irrigation, and no signs of birds or animal life, when we would suddenly strike a fertile valley, tolerably cultivated by the scratching process of rude ploughs, but without hedges or landmarks, to denote proprietorship.
At break of day, and late sunset, the peasants may be seen mounted on donkeys, or carrying their implements of husbandry, after the hard toils of the day, returning to their mud or stone hovels, comfortless and cheerless, not unlike the country people in the interior of Sicily, who congregate in villages in like manner, and for a motive similar to the one which actuates them here—safety from the hordes of bandits which the wars of the Peninsula have produced. The guardias civiles, whom we met from time to time, have made sad havoc with the Ladrons, shooting several, and taking many prisoners, so we came through in safety.