THE COURT
During the reign of Don Alfonso XII., except during the interval when
the melancholy death of his first beloved Queen, Mercédes, plunged King,
Court, and people into mourning, Madrid was gayer than perhaps it has
ever been. No one loved amusement better than the young King, who was
only seventeen when the military _pronunciamiento_ of Martinez Campo
called him to the throne from which his mother had been driven seven
years previously. He had taken his people, and indeed all the world, by
storm, for from the first moment he had shown all the qualities which
make a ruler popular, and Spain has never had a young monarch of so much
promise. He had the royal gift of memory, and an extraordinary facility
in speaking foreign languages; it was said that the Russian and the
Turkish envoys were the only ones with whom he was unable to converse as
freely in their languages as in his own. He was an excellent speaker,
always knew the right thing to say, the best thing to do to gain the
hearts of his people, and to make himself agreeable to all parties and
all nationalities alike. He was the first King of Spain to address his
people _de usted_ in place of _de tu_, a mark of respect which they were
not slow to appreciate; he was a modern, in that he would go out alone,
either on foot or riding, allowed applause in his presence at the
theatres, unknown before, and himself would salute those he knew from
his box. He gave audience to all who asked, was an early riser, devoted
to business when it had to be performed, was an enthusiast in all
military matters, and, perhaps better than all in the eyes of his
people, he was devoted to the bull-ring. Extremely active, resolute,
firm, fond of all kinds of active sports, such as hunting and shooting,
equally fond of society, picnics, dances, and all kinds of
entertainments, he seemed destined to become the idol of his people, and
to lead his beloved country back to its place in Europe. His death, when
only twenty-seven, changed all this. Queen Maria Cristina has been a
model wife, widow, mother, and Regent. She was devoted to her husband,
and though it was said at first to be a political marriage, contracted
to please the people, it was undoubtedly a happy one. The Queen has
scarcely taken more part in public life during her sad widowhood than
Queen Victoria did. She has devoted herself to her public duties as
Regent and to the education and care of her children.
Alfonso XIII., born a king after his father's death, has always been
rather a delicate boy; his mother has determined that his health and his
education shall be the first and chief care of her life, and nothing
turns her from this purpose. If she has never been exactly popular, she
has at least the unbounded respect and admiration of the people. She
does not love the "bulls," and, therefore, she is not _Española_ enough
to awaken enthusiasm; she keeps the boy King too much out of sight, so
that his people scarcely know him, even in Madrid; but this is the very
utmost that anyone has to say against her, while all shades of
politicians, even to declared Republicans, speak of her with respect and
with real admiration of her qualities of heart and mind.
All Court gaieties are, however, at an end. Once a year or so a ball at
the palace, a formal dinner, or reception, when it cannot be
avoided--that is all, and for the rest the Queen is rarely seen except
at religious ceremonies or state functions, and the King, never. He is
supposed to take his amusements and exercise in the Casa de Campo, and
rarely crosses Madrid.
Numerous stories used to be told of his precocity as a child, and of his
smart sayings; sometimes of his generosity and sympathy with the poor
and suffering. Now one is told he is somewhat of a pickle, but fables
about royalty may always be received with more than a grain of salt. One
of the stories told of him, which ought to be true, since it has the
ring of childhood about it, is well known. When a small boy, his
Austrian governess, of whom he was very fond, reproved him for using his
knife in place of a fork. "Gentlemen never do so," she said. "But I am a
King," he replied. "Kings, still less, eat with their knives," said the
governess. "_This_ King does," was the composed reply of the child.
The etiquette of the Spanish Court, although it was much modified by
Alfonso XII., is still very formal. A perfectly infinite number of
_mayordomos, caballerizos, gentiles hombres de casa y boca, ujieres,
alabarderos, monteros_, aides-de-camp, _Grandes de España de servicio_,
ladies-in-waiting, lackeys, servants, and attendants of every possible
description abound. A man going to an audience with royalty uncovers as
he enters the Palace. First, he will find the _alabardero de servicio_
placed at the entrance of the vestibule; farther on, more _alabarderos_.
Whenever a Grande de España, a prelate, a grand cross, or a title of
Castile passes, these guards strike the marble floor with their arms--a
noise which may well cause the uninitiated to start. Three halls are
used for grouping, according to their rank, those who are about to be
presented: first, the _saleta_, where ordinary people--all the world, in
fact--wait; next, the _cámara_, for those who have titles or wear the
grand cross; third, the _antecámara_, reserved for the Grandes of Spain,
and _gentiles hombres en ejercio_. The Grandes of Spain, chamberlains
of the King, share between them the service of his Majesty. They are
called in rotation, one day's notice being given before they are
expected to attend in the Palace. In the ante-chamber of the King there
is always the _Grande_ in waiting, the lady-in-waiting on the Queen, two
aides-de-camp, and a _gentil hombre del interior_ (the last must not be
confounded with the _gentiles hombres en ejercicio_, who have the right to
enter the ante-chamber). There are, of course, equerries
(_caballerizos_) who attend, as ours do, on horseback, when the King or
Queen goes out; but the most essentially Spanish attendants are the
Monteros de Espinosa, who have the exclusive right to watch while
Royalty sleeps. These attendants must all be born in Espinosa; it is an
hereditary honour, and the wives of the existing Monteros are careful to
go to Espinosa when they expect an addition to their family, as no one
not actually born there can hold the office. At the present time this
guard is recruited from captains or lieutenants on the retired list.
In the ante-chamber of each member of the Royal Family two of these take
their place at eleven o'clock; they never speak, never sit down, but
pass the whole night pacing the room, crossing each other as they go,
until morning relieves them from what must be rather a trying watch. At
eleven o'clock each evening there is a solemn procession of servants and
officials in imposing uniforms down the grand staircase of the Palace;
every door is closed and locked by a gentleman wearing an antique
costume and a three-cornered hat, and having an enormous bunch of keys.
From that time the Palace remains under the exclusive charge of the
Monteros de Espinosa. Although this is the official programme, it is to
be hoped the hour is not a fixed one. It would be a little cruel to put
the Royal Family to bed so early, without regard to their feelings;
especially as Madrid is essentially a city of late hours, and the
various members of it would have to scamper away from opera, or in fact
any entertainment, as if some malignant fairy were wanting to cast a
spell at the witching hour of midnight. There are some curious
superstitions, however, about being abroad when the clocks strike
twelve, which we must suppose do not now affect the Madrileño.
While the old church of Atocha was still standing, the Court, with a
royal escort, or what is called _escadron de salut_, all the dignitaries
of the Palace in attendance, guards, outriders, etc., in gorgeous array,
drove in half state (_media gala_) across Madrid and the _paseos_ to
hear the _salut "sa'nt"_ on Saturday. The Queen Regent and her
daughters, but not often the King, now visit in turn some of the
churches, but without the old state or regularity.
Since the death of Alfonso XII., many of the purely Spanish customs of
the Court have been modified or discontinued. Although the late King was
credited with a desire to reduce the civil list, and to adopt more
English customs, he was to some extent in the hands of the
Conservatives, who had been the means of his restoration, and when he
went forth to put an end to the Carlist insurrection and finish the
civil war, which had laid desolate the Northern provinces and ruined
commerce and industry for some seven years, it was at the head of a
personal following of over five hundred people. Nor was the Court much,
if any, less numerous when the Royal Family removed in the summer to the
lovely Palace of St. Ildefonso at La Granja--that castle in the air,
which has no equal in Europe, hanging, as it does, among gardens,
forests, rivers, and lakes, three thousand eight hundred and forty feet
above the level of the sea.
The Queen is Austrian, and she has never gone out of her way to
conciliate the people by making herself really Spanish. This she has
left to the Infanta Isabel, the eldest sister of Alfonso XII. For many
years before the birth of her brother, the Infanta Isabel was Princess
of Asturias, as heiress apparent of the Crown. With the advent of a boy,
she became, of course, only Infanta, losing the rank which she had held
up to this time. Being but a child at the time, she perhaps knew or
cared little for any difference it may have made in her surroundings.
She shared in the flight of the Royal Family to France in 1868, and her
education was completed in Paris. When the whirligig of Spanish politics
called her brother Alfonso, who at the time was a military student at
Sandhurst, to the throne from which his mother had been driven, Princess
Isabel returned with him to Madrid, and was once more installed in the
Palace, above the Manzanares, as Princess of Asturias. This rank
remained hers during the short episode of her brother's marriage to his
cousin Mercédes, and the melancholy death of the girl Queen at the
moment when a direct heir to the throne was expected. Once more, when
the daughter of Alfonso's second wife, the present Queen Regent, was
born, the Infanta Isabel became her title, and she took again the lower
rank.
Nothing in history is more pathetic than this first marriage of Alfonso
XII. and its unhappy termination. The children of Queen Isabel and those
of her sister, the Duquesa de Montpensier, had been brought up together,
and there was a boy-and-girl attachment between the Prince of Asturias
and his cousin Mercédes. When Alfonso became King, almost as it seemed
by accident, and it was thought necessary that he should marry, the boy
gravely assured his Ministers that he was quite willing to do so, and in
fact intended to marry his cousin. Nothing could be more inopportune,
nothing more contrary to the welfare of the distracted country! From the
time that the notorious "Spanish marriages" had become facts, the Duke
of Montpensier had been an intriguer. The birth of heirs to the throne
of Spain (it is useless to go back to those long-past scandals) had
completely upset the machinations of Louis Philippe and his Ministers.
So long as Don Francisco de Assis and the Spanish nation chose to
acknowledge the children as legitimate, there was nothing to be done.
The direct hope of seeing his sons Kings of Spain faded from the view of
the French husband of the sister of Isabel II., but he never for one
moment ceased to intrigue. Although loaded with benefits and kindness by
the Queen, Montpensier took no small part in the revolution which drove
her from the country. Topete, and Serrano--who had once been what the
Spaniards called _Pollo Real_ himself--were bound in honour to uphold
his candidature for the vacant throne; their promise had been given long
before the _pronunciamiento_ at Cadiz had made successful revolution
possible. Prim alone stood firm: "_Jamas, jamas!_" (Never, never!) he
replied to every suggestion to bring Montpensier forward. In those words
he signed his own death-warrant. His actual murderers were never brought
to justice, ostensibly were never found; but there never was a Spaniard
who doubted that the foul deed was the result of instigation.
[Illustration: IN THE WOODS AT LA GRANJA]
To have Mercédes as Queen Consort, was to bring her father once more
within the limits of practical interference with national politics. To
all remonstrance, however, the young King had one answer: "I have
promised," and the nation, recognising that as a perfectly valid
argument, acquiesced, though with many forebodings. The marriage took
place, and within a few months the girl Queen was carried with her
unborn child to the melancholy Pantéon de los Principes at the Escorial.
The marriage of the Infanta Isabel with Count Girgenti, a Neapolitan
Bourbon, was an unhappy one, and she obtained a legal separation from
him after a very short matrimonial life. Spaniards have a perfect genius
for giving apt nicknames. Scarcely was the arrangement for the marriage
made known when the Count's name was changed to that of _Indecente_. He
fought, however, for Isabel II. at Alcoléa, which was at any rate acting
more decently than did Montpensier, who had furnished large sums of
money to promote the rising against his confiding sister-in-law, and, in
fact, never ceased his machinations against every person and every thing
that stood in his way, until death fortunately removed him from the
arena of Spanish politics, his one overmastering ambition unfulfilled.
He had neither managed to ascend the throne himself, nor see any of his
children seated there, except for the few months that Mercédes, "beloved
of the King and of the nation," shared the throne of Alfonso XII.
The Infanta Isabel, except for the episode of her exile in France, has
always lived in the Royal Palace of Madrid, having her own quarters, and
her little court about her. At times she has been the butt of much
popular criticism, and even dislike, but she has outlived it all, and is
now the most popular woman in Spain. It must have required no common
qualities to have lived without discord--as a separated wife--with her
brother and her younger sisters; then with Queen Mercédes, her cousin as
well as sister-in-law; again, during the time of the King's widowhood
and her own elevation to the rank of Princess of Asturias, and, finally,
since the second marriage of her brother, and his untimely death, with
Maria Cristina and her young nephew and nieces.
One thing is to be said in favour of Isabel II. Deprived of all ordinary
education herself, as a part of the evil policy of her mother, she was
careful that her own children should not have to complain of the same
neglect. One and all have been thoroughly educated: the Infanta Paz, now
married to a Bavarian Archduke, has shown considerable talent as a
poetess; and the Infanta Isabel is universally acknowledged to be a
clever and a cultivated woman, inheriting much of her mother's charm of
manner, and noted for ready wit and quick repartee. Her popularity, as I
have said, is great, for she is careful to keep up all the Spanish
customs. She is constantly to be seen in public, and, above and beyond
all things, she never fails in attendance at the bull-fight, wearing the
white mantilla. This alone would cover a multitude of sins, supposing
the Infanta to be credited with them; but there has never been a breath
of scandal connected with her. She is very devout, and never fails in
the correct religious duties and public appearances. At the fair, and on
_Noche buena_, she fills her carriage with the cheap toys and sweetmeats
which mean so much to Spanish children, and she must be a veritable
fairy godmother to those who come within her circle. She takes a close
personal interest in many sisterhoods and societies for the help of the
poor. In a word, she is _muy simpática_ and _muy Española_. What could
one say more?
A gala procession in Madrid is something to be remembered, if it be only
for the wealth of magnificent embroideries and fabrics displayed. The
royal carriages are drawn by eight horses, having immense plumes of
ostrich feathers, of the royal colours, yellow and red, on their heads,
and gorgeous hangings of velvet, with massive gold embroideries reaching
almost to the ground; the whole of the harness and trappings glitter
with gold and silk. The grooms, leading each horse, are equally
magnificently attired, their dresses being also one mass of needlework
of gold on velvet. Equerries, outriders, and military guards precede and
surround the royal carriages, and the cavalcade is lengthened by having
a _coche de respecto_, caparisoned with equal splendour, following each
one in which a royal person is being conveyed. Behind come the carriages
of the Grandes, according to rank, all drawn by at least six horses,
with trappings little, if at all, inferior to those of the Court, and
each with its enormous plume of gaily-coloured ostrich feathers, showing
the livery of its owner. In addition to all this grandeur, the balconies
of the great houses lining the route of the processions display
priceless heirlooms of embroideries, hanging before each window from
basement to roof. If these ancient decorations could speak, what a
strange story they might tell of the processions they have seen pass! In
honour of the victories over the Moors; of the heroes of the New World;
of the miserable murders of the _Autos-da-fé_; of the entry of the _Rey
absoluto_, to inaugurate the "Terror," on to the contemptible "galas" of
Isabel II., supposed to keep the people quiet; and, almost the last, the
entry of Alfonso XII., after he had put an end to the Carlist war! On
the day of rejoicing for "La Gloriosa" there was no such display,
although all Madrid was _en fête_. It was the triumph of the people, and
their heirlooms do not take the form of priceless embroideries.
In former days the receptions at the Palace were known as _besamanos_
(to kiss hand). On Holy Thursday the Royal Family and all the Court
visit seven churches on foot--at least, that is the correct number,
though sometimes not strictly adhered to. As no vehicular traffic is
allowed on that day or on Good Friday, the streets where the royal
procession pass are swept and laid with fresh sand. The ladies are in
gala costume, and drag their trains behind them, all wearing the
national mantilla. All Madrid also visits its seven or less number of
churches, passing without obeisance before the high altars, on which
there is no Host,--as the people will tell you _su Majestad_ is
dead,--and after the _funcion_ is over there is a general parade in the
Puerta del Sol and the Carrera de San Geronimo, to show off the smart
costumes of the ladies, while the officers sit in chairs outside the
Government offices and smoke, admiring the prospect.