The square

I have never seen the Plaça Reial like this. The main square of Barcelona’s old town, lined with restaurants and hostels, where if you drop a banana peel, three Japanese and two American tourists will slip on it, is now as peaceful and relaxed as the center of a Spanish small town on the way of depopulation. There is hardly anyone sitting on the terraces, prices have considerably fallen, and in the middle of the square, at the fountain, local families are talking, children playing. I sit down at a table for a glass of wine. From time to time, swarms of pigeons orbit the square like asteroids, green parrots chase each other, and occasionally a seagull sails through with dignity. Someone draws strings between the candelabra around the fountain, hanging on them foiled photographs of locals talking, sipping wine, playing on different squares of Barcelona. Large beer and wine cans are placed on a table, everyone can tap from them for free. A woman sets up a puppet stage out of cardboard boxes, the set is a single blue sheet that symbolizes the sea. He creates sea animals from various objects, and makes them float in front of the sheet. The seashore children stare in amazement. There is a treasure chest at the bottom of the sea, each water creature peeks into it. The little mermaid swims out among the kids, caressing everyone. Large, peaceful dogs walk up and down the rows. In the end, the woman carries the treasure chest around the spectators, so you can see the treasure. There is a mirror at the bottom of the empty chest. The title of the production is: Let’s take back the square.

Disolución: Revelaciones • Dissolving: Revelations

“Wanderer, come nearer to see, what hides in the shadow. For though he lies buried,
the letters indicated by the combination of numbers will clearly reveal
who rests in this coffin, who Memphis is preparing
a new celestial sphere for.” *

Lágrimas amantes de la excelentísima Ciudad de Barcelona [...] en las Magníficas Exequias que celebró a las Amadas y Venerables Memorias de su difunto Rey y Señor don Carlos II [...] Descríbelas Joseph Rocaberti. Barcelona: Juan Pablo Martí, 1701, p. 263. El texto debe completarse siguiendo la secuencia numérica. Para la muerte de Carlos II, sin descendencia y desencadenadora de la larga guerra mundial conocida como Guerra de Sucesión, la generalidad de las imprentas hispanas ofrecieron de manera exagerada —reveladora de una necesidad de saturar, de colmatar la superficie gráfica cuando tan poco bueno se podía augurar— todo tipo de muestras de poesía visual, enigmática o «metamétrica».

Tears of Love, shed by the eminent City of Barcelona […] in the magnificent mourning rituals dedicated to the beloved and venerated memory of her deceased King and Lord, don Carlos II […] Described by Joseph Rocaberti. Barcelona: Juan Pablo Martí, 1701, p. 263. The text is to be supplemented according to the numeric combinations. Charles II died without a heir, and his death ignitd the long world war known as the War of the Spanish Succession. Most of the Spanish printers paid a tribute to the memory of the deceased ruler with a variety of exaggerated visual, enigmatic and “metametric” poems, which clearly reveal, what an effort it was to fill the blank pages when there was so little good to say.

Letra A (alfa). Folio 6 del Comentario del Apocalipsis, encargado por el rey Fernando I al beato Facundo. Lo acabó en 1047 (Biblioteca Nacional de Madrid). Cristo, de pie bajo la inicial y apuntando hacia ella, tiene la letra Omega en la mano: «Yo soy el Alfa y Omega, el Principio y el Fin, dice el Señor» (Ap 1:8)

Initial A (alfa) on fol. 6 of the Commentary to John’s Revelations, illuminated by Beatus Facundus (see the history of these codex) for Ferdinand I of Castille and León (completed in 1047, Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional). Christ, standing under the initial and pointing to it, holds the letter omega in His hand: “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, says the Lord” (Rev 1:8)

New Barcelona (Hungary, 1735)

“The governor came to the New Barcelona. This name was demanded by the Spaniards, for whom the Turco-Serbian name of the ancient and uninhabited Beckerek was an unpronounceable word. With great hopes they came to the empire of their former king Charles. But these poor people could not stand the weather of this region. The canal towards Temesvar went through wetlands. Their place was surrounded by standing water, and after the flooding millions of fishes scattered over the fields were rotting in the sun. The stench filled the air of the zone.”

(Adam Müller-Guttenbrunn, Der Grosse Schwabenzug, Leipzig, 1931)

The town of Nagybecskerek (Hungarian), Bečkerek (Serbian), Großbetschkerek (German), Becicherecul Mare (Rumanian), that is, the current Zrenjanin in Serbia was surrounded by large swamps already in this detail of the Tabula Hungariae, of ca. 1528. In 1551 it was occupied by the Turks, until in 1716 it was incorporated into the Hapsburg monarchy, which made great efforts to improve and exploit the area, repopulating it mainly with Swabian settlers (this is the origin of the family of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2009 Herta Muller). The place was more or less like this in 1735, when the Spaniards arrived here to found the city of New Barcelona.

Josephinische Landesaufnahme, 1763-87. The detail of the area of Becskerek, where the New Barcelona was founded. Click for the full map in high resolution (35 mb)

A few days ago we told about the creation of the Republic of the Angel around Vilnius, beyond the river. However, the story of this foundation beyond another river, the Danube, on the banks of the river Béga, is darker and more poignant, and it ended badly. Its protagonists are a group of Spaniards, mainly Catalans, whose fate was caught between two intricate plots: the exile of the defeated Hapsburg party during the War of the Spanish Succession on the one hand, and on the other hand the territorial policy of the Hapsburgs along the Turkish borders, particularly in the Banat region around Temesvár (today Timișoara in Romania).

The Bourbon repression in Catalonia was very hard after 11 September 1714, when the troops of the new king Philip V occupied Barcelona after a siege which lasted more than a year. The exile of the Catalans started already in 1713, but there was still an active guerilla resistance as late as 1718-20. However, it was also gradually diluted, and one of its most active captains, the bullet-proof and picturesque Pere Joan Barceló, alias Carrasquet (see a modern drawing of his figure) was also there at the foundation of the New Barcelona in the Banat, only to die along the Rhine, by fighting in the fortress of Brisach in 1743.

Some of the most exalted exiles hatched utopian plans to found a new country far away from Spain. The gorgeous Brera Library of Milan, founded by Archduchess Maria Theresa in 1773, preserves a curious manuscript whose author, Josep Plantí, apart to compare Barcelona with Troy in flames and the exiles leaving it to found a new and better country under the patronage of Charles VI with Aeneas and his companions, describes in detail the rules and the organization of an ideal city where the Spaniards should live together in harmony and peace in the Hungarian lands.

Urbem, quam statuo, vestra est, subducite rebus experti revocatae animos maestumque timorem mittite forsan, et haec meminisse juvabit. Tendimus Ungariam, sedes ubi fata quietas ostendunt, illic fac regna resurgere Ibericae. Durate et vosmet rebus servate secundis. […]

The town I’m telling about, is yours: let us go, start the work, and with your experience put every fear aside, and remember: we are going to Hungary, where our fate offers a peaceful seat to us: there we shall resurrect the Iberian kingdom. Resist and be steadfast in adverse fate.

Josep Plantí: Exhortation to Emperor Charles VI, in Hemistichia ex Virgiio lib. 1 Aeneidos (after 1725).

There is no evidence that the manuscript came to the hands of any minister. The fact is that time was passing. The Spanish exiles, generously hosted in Vienna and Buda, where they received various pensions, begin to be financially too burdensome to their hosts, while there were large and potentially fertile lands to the south-east, recently recovered from the Turks, which called for new residents. They were resettled to the Banat, an area of harsh conditions for the Spaniards who were no longer young, and were not accustomed to the farm works that awaited them there.

Plant of New Barcelona, earlier and later Nagybecskerek, today Zrenjanin, in the Banat around Temesvár, 1766 (ÖStA/Finanz und Hoffkamerarchiv, Viena)

As a result, from the over eight hundred persons who arrived there in three batches, three years later, at the end of the adventure returned to Buda and Pest (from where most of them went to Vienna) only 347, according to the most reliable estimates. The plague and other diseases were their worst enemies. Maria Theresa of Austria, in an act of generosity, offered two years of pension in advance to those exiles who wanted to return to Spain. The adventure lasted from 1735 to 1738, when the New Barcelona project was definitely abandoned. The Fourth Turkish War (1737-1739) turned the Banat into a front line again. The eventful lives of the protagonists of this story remains largely in the dark. Recently, the historian Agustí Alcoberro published an excellent summary of what is known about these events: La «Nova Barcelona» del Danubi (1735-1738). La ciutat dels exiliats de la Guerra de Successió, Barcelona, 2011, but there is certainly a lot of documents waiting to be discovered in the archives of Vienna and Budapest.

Nagybecskerek was always ready to host visitors from the most impossible parts of the world, as it is attested by this photo representing Buffalo Bill and his Indians in the city in 1906. Here you can see more vintage pictures of the city.

Nueva Barcelona (Hungría, 1735)

El gobernador vino hasta la Nueva Barcelona. Los españoles, que predominaban en gran número, habían exigido este nombre. El nombre turcoserbio de la antigua e inhabitada Beckerek era una palabra impronunciable para ellos. Con orgullosas esperanzas habían marchado al imperio de su antiguo rey Carlos. Pero esta pobre gente tampoco pudo soportar el clima de aquí. El canal que iba de Temesvar hasta donde ellos se encontraban discurría a través de tierras pantanosas; su agua estancada rodeaba el lugar y millones de peces que a causa de las crecidas quedaban esparcidos en tierra se pudrían al sol. La pestilencia inundaba el aire de la zona.

(Adam Müller-Guttenbrunn, Der Grosse Schwabenzug
–La gran emigración de los suabos–, Leipzig, 1931)

Por entonces rodeada de pantanos, Nagybecskerek (húngaro), Bečkerek (en serbio), Großbetschkerek (alemán), Becicherecul Mare (rumano), es decir, la actual Zrenjanin serbia puede verse en este detalle de la Tabula Hungariae, c. 1528. En este mapa, la ciudad aún pertenecía al Reino de Hungría. En 1551 la ocuparían los turcos hasta que en 1716 fue incorporada a la monarquía habsbúrgica, que puso gran empeño en mejorarla y explotar toda la zona, repoblándola principalmente con colonos suabos (este es el origen de la premio nobel de literatura en 2009 Herta Muller). Más o menos así estaba el lugar cuando llegaron los españoles para fundar la Nueva Barcelona en 1735.

Josephinische Landesaufnahme, 1763-87. Detalle de la zona del distrito de Becskerek, donde se fundó Nueva Barcelona. Puede obtenerse el mapa completo en alta resolución (35 Mb). Otros mapas de interés.

Contábamos hace unos días la creación de la República del Ángel cerca de la ciudad de Vilnius, cruzando el río. Pero la historia de esta otra fundación más allá del Danubio, a orillas del Bega, tiene tintes más sombríos, es más conmovedora y acabó mal. Habla de un grupo de españoles, la mayoría catalanes, cuya vida quedó atrapada entre dos complicadas circunstancias: por una parte el exilio de los austracistas derrotados en la Guerra de Sucesión española y, por otra, la política territorial de los Habsburgo en la frontera con los turcos, concretamente en el Banato, alrededor de Temesvar (hoy la Timisoara rumana).

La represión borbónica en tierras catalanas fue durísima desde el once de septiembre de 1714, cuando las tropas del nuevo rey Felipe V doblegaron Barcelona tras un asedio de algo más de un año. El exilio catalán había empezado ya en 1713, así como una resistencia guerrillera especialmente activa durante los años 1718-20. Pero la resistencia también fue diluyéndose y hasta a uno de sus capitanes más activos, el incombustible y pintoresco Pere Joan Barceló, alias Carrasquet, lo encontraremos también por la Nueva Barcelona transdanubiana, para acabar muriendo en el Rin, luchando en la fortaleza de Brisach en 1743 (ver un dibujo actual de su figura).

Algunos de los exiliados de espíritu ilustrado hacían planes utópicos para una nueva vida lejos de España. La magnífica Biblioteca de Brera, en Milán, abierta por la archiduquesa María Teresa en 1773, guarda un curioso manuscrito donde su autor, Josep Plantí, aparte de comparar Barcelona con una Troya en llamas de la que salen los exiliados para fundar una nueva y superior patria al amparo de Carlos VI, describe en detalle las normas y la organización de una ciudad ideal donde han de convivir en paz y armonía los españoles en tierras húngaras.

Urbem, quam statuo, vestra est, subducite rebus experti revocatae animos maestumque timorem mittite forsan, et haec meminisse juvabit. Tendimus Ungariam, sedes ubi fata quietas ostendunt, illic fac regna resurgere Ibericae. Durate et vosmet rebus servate secundis. […]

La ciudad de que hablo es vuestra: vamos, manos a la obra y, con la experiencia que tenéis levantad los ánimos y apartad el triste temor. Os ayudará tener esto presente: nos dirigimos a Hungría, donde el destino nos muestra una sede tranquila y allí resurgirán los reinos ibéricos. Resistid y protegeos con esta situación favorable.

Josep Plantí: Exhortación del Emperador Carlos VI, en Hemistichia ex Virgiio lib. 1 Aeneidos (d. 1725).

No hay constancia de que el manuscrito llegara a manos de algún ministro. Lo cierto es que el tiempo fue pasando. Los exiliados españoles, acogidos con generosidad en Viena y Buda, cobrando pensiones de diversa cuantía, empezaban a pesar demasiado económicamente y había grandes tierras al este, potencialmente fértiles, recién recuperadas a los turcos, que exigían nuevos pobladores. Se eligió el Banato, una zona de condiciones muy duras para unos españoles que en su mayoría ya no eran jóvenes y que no estaban acostumbrados a las tareas del campo que allí les aguardaban.

Planta de Nueva Barcelona, hoy Zrejanin, en el Banat de Temesvar, 1766 (ÖStA/Finanz und Hoffkamerarchiv, Viena)

El resultado fue que de las más de ochocientas personas que llegaron hasta allí en tres tandas, volvieron a Buda y a Pest (y luego muchos pasaron a Viena), según los cálculos más fiables, solo 347 personas. La peste y otras enfermedades fueron sus peores enemigos. La aventura había durado de 1735 a 1738 y el proyecto de la Nueva Barcelona se abandonó. En un acto de generosidad, María Teresa de Austria ofreció dos años de pensión por adelantado a aquellos exiliados que quisieran regresar a España. El Banat, al encenderse la Cuarta Guerra Turca (1737-1739) volvió a su condición de primera línea de fuego durante decenios. Las vidas azarosas de los protagonistas de esta historia en gran parte permanecen en la oscuridad. Recientemente, el historiador Agustí Alcoberro ha publicado un magnífico resumen de cuanto se sabe de los acontecimientos: La «Nova Barcelona» del Danubi (1735-1738). La ciutat dels exiliats de la Guerra de Successió, Barcelona, 2011, pero es seguro que aún queda mucha documentación esperando en los archivos de Viena y Budapest.

Una prueba de la buena disposición de Nagybecskerek / Zrenjanin para hospedar a gentes venidas de los lugares más imposibles es este recibimiento que dispensaron a Buffalo Bill y su circo en 1906. Aquí se guardan otras imágenes de la memoria histórica de la ciudad.

Singing is forbidden,

prohibido el cante, this was written in several suburban pubs in the Franco era. And this is the title of the exhibition which the Centro Andaluz de Arte Contemporáneo of Seville dedicated in 2009 to the forbidden song, the flamenco.

The exhibition presented in more than two hundred pictures how the anonymous photographers and the big names saw the flamenco from the 19th century, the discovery of the exotic South, through the great masters of the 20th century to today’s sophisticated fashion photographers. I have not seen the catalog, only those seventeen images which have just been published from it by one-way. By searching on the Spanish web I have found quite a few more pictures of it, but these only showed how brilliantly one-way picked out those seventeen which, by leaving out every exotism and anecdotism, convey the power of the dance, the humanity of the artists, and how unimaginably this dance increases them. This selection is a work of art in itself. I also publish it without any change or addition.


Pedro and Inés Bacán: Nana. From the CD De viva voz, 1995

Antoñita La Singla, Barcelona, 1962 (Xavier Miserachs)

Jerez-de-la-Frontera, 1989

Gypsy dancer, 1956

Mario Maya, 1983 (Guilles Larrain)

Granada, 1950

Man Ray, 1934

Castagnets – Antonio y Rosita Segovia (Juan Gyenes), 1960s

1957

Habana, 1995

El Farruco and Carmen Segura, Sevilla, 1983 (Guilles Larrain)

In the fair of Seville, 1967

Farruco and Farruquito, 1964 (David George)

Anatolia, 1964

Barcelona, 1955

Paris, 1963

Joaquín Cortés, 1995

Snail's house

The little Gothic courtyard opening from the alley of Carrer dels Lledó is a jewel box not only in a metaphoric sense. But the jewel shop and exhibition room Atelier Hàbit is just as hidden within it as the house itself: a pearl within a shell. I also get to know only from an invitation to an exhibition that the 13th-century building is today called Palacio/Palau Pallejà. Somewhere inside the house there are also frescoes hiding from the first great 14th-century workshop of Catalan Gothic art.







Around the house, as in the light of a street lamp, the fabric of the medieval city slowly begins to unfold. Suddenly this today somewhat neglected corner of the Barri Gòtic, like an old Spanish manor house, reveals the traces of a much more glorious past. The little square of Saint Justus and Pastor around the corner – today just one of Barcelona’s many lovely medieval squares – used to be the main square of the Roman soldier’s town Barcino in the protection of the crossing of the town’s two main streets, and later royal seat of the Visigothic Hispania. And the Just y Pastor basilica – today the center of the Sant’ Egidio community already known to us from Rome and Moscow – was the seat of the bishop of Barcelona until the Gothic cathedral was built at the northern gate of the city. Here are some of the oldest noble families’ palaces, such as the Palau Moxó at the corner of the square, or at the end of the little street starting from the square the Palau Requesens, formerly seat of the governor of Catalonia and since 1902 that of the Literary Academy of Barcelona. They also include the Pallejà palace, on whose wall towards the square the earliest public fountain of Barcelona with the representation of the first Catalan rulers was established at the time when the palace still bore the name of the ancient Catalan family of the Fivellers.