Though the land itself was ownerless, shadowy prescriptive rights gradually evolved, and under the title of _Mestas_ continued to be recognised by the pastoral nomads till abolished by Royal Decree in the sixteenth century. From that date commenced the subdivision of Estremadura into the present large private estates--again recalling the back-veld Boers, who hate to live one within sight of another, except that here owners are non-resident.
All this may explain superficially the existing desolation. The essential causes, however, are, we believe, (1) barrenness of soil; and (2) an enervating climate, fever-infected by stagnant waters, dead pools, and ubiquitous shallow swamps that poison the air and produce mosquitoes in millions.
Gazing in reflective mood upon those magnificent memorials of Roman rule at Merida, one is tempted to wonder whether, after all, the silent ruins (with a stork's nest on each parapet) do not yet point the true way to Estremenian prosperity--IRRIGATION (plus energy--a quality one misses in Estremadura).
Founded 2000 years back (by Augustus Caesar), this out-of-the-world city has a knack of periodically dropping out of history--skipping a few centuries at a time--meanwhile presumably dragging on its own dreamy unrecorded existence, "by the world forgot," till some fresh incident forces it on the stage once more. There were stirring times here while, for near a thousand years, the upland vegas were swept and ravaged by three successive waves of foreign invasion. Then Trujillo relapsed into trance, skipped the middle ages, and awoke to find at its gates another foreign foe--this time the French.
And the city reflects these vicissitudes. The Roman fortress, magnificent in extent and military strength, completely covers the rugged granite heights, imposing still in crumbling ruin. Forty-foot ramparts with inner and outer defences, bastions and flanking towers, machicolated and pierced for arrow fire, crown the whole circuit of the koppie. Signs of ancient grandeur everywhere meet one's eye; but contrasts pain at every turn. For filthy swine to-day defile palaces; donkeys are stalled in sculptured _patios_ whence armoured knight on Arab steed once rode forth to clatter along the stone-paved ravelins that led to the point of danger. From mullioned embrasures above, whence the Euterpes and Lalagés of old waved tender adieux, now peer slatternly peasants; crumbling battlements form homes for white owls and bats, kestrels, hoopoes, and a multitude of storks such as can nowhere else be seen congregated in a single city. The sense of desolation is accentuated by finding such feathered recluses as blue rock-thrush and blackchat actually nesting in the very citadel itself.