inhabited by Philip. Within them all is austerity and simplicity--as
befitted a king who was a monk at heart. The walls are whitewashed, the
flooring of brick. The footstools remind us of the gout from which the
sad king suffered--certainly not from over-indulgence in the good things
of life. In this room he worked from four in the morning till midnight,
his labours interrupted only by his fervent devotions. The adjoining
chamber is the oratorio, of which I have already spoken, where he could
assist at the celebration of Mass. Here, at the end of a two months’
illness, patiently borne, he died, grasping the very crucifix with which
his father had been consoled during his last moments. His death, at any
rate, was happier and more dignified than that of his victorious rival,
Elizabeth, writhing out her life at Richmond in an ecstasy of remorse
and chagrin.
Adjacent to the Escorial are several blocks of buildings, such as the
Campaña, containing the domestic offices, and the Casa del Principe, the
Petit Trianon of the palace, surrounded by gardens. In these may be seen
the cross marking the spot where the baker’s boy was burnt at the stake
in Philip’s reign. A queer site for a palace dedicated to the “menus
plaisirs”!
The Escorial has been the scene of some important historical events,
notably of the arrest and imprisonment of the Infante Ferdinand, on the
charge of high treason against his father in 1807. He was afterwards
Ferdinand VII. The prince was confined in the Prior’s cell and managed
to communicate with his friends by the aid of a fishing line. Charles
IV. had no option but to pardon his son, whose intrigues resulted
indirectly in the spoliation of the palace which had been his prison, by
the French a year or two later.
Not without relief will the visitor leave these interminable halls and
corridors over which broods the presence of death, and seek the little
Silla del Rey, or King’s Chair, a mile and a half from the pile. It is a
natural seat, formed of granite rocks, where Philip used to watch the
progress of the building operations. It is worth visiting as affording
one of the pretty views to be obtained in the midst of a generally
uninviting district.
After a visit to the Escorial, the Palace of La Granja will seem what it
was intended to be--the house of life and gaiety. At any other time it
would seem a rather dull and depressing imitation of Versailles. It is
called the Grange or Farm and appropriately enough is in the midst of
charming scenery. Trees afford a shade not too often to be found in
barren, scorched Castile. And in the background the snowy Guadarrama
lift their heads above the pine forests. On the whole one does not
blame Philip V. for his choice of a royal domain, or wonder why the
present King’s father and mother spent much of their time here, soon
after their marriage. Yet at this height of 4000 feet above the sea, it
must be an Arctic spot at all seasons except summer. La Granja--or San
Ildefonso, to give it its official name--is the residence of the Court
in summer. If the Escorial expresses in stone the character of its
founder, the same cannot be said of this palace, for the fifth Philip
was of almost as gloomy a temper as the first. He spent very little time
at the pleasaunce he had decreed, for he died a few months after its
completion in 1746. Here in 1724 he abdicated the throne in favour of
his son, Don Luis, on whose death eight months later he was constrained
to resume the royal authority.
The palace itself is not a very interesting structure. The principal
façade dates from 1737, and is buttressed by columns and pilasters,
supporting an entablature and balustrade. Over the middle rises an attic
story, also surmounted with a balustrade, supported by four Caryatides
representing the seasons, between them being the coat-of-arms of Spain
and the Bourbons. This front was designed by Juvarra, and is the most
tasteful portion of the building, to which additions have been made at
different epochs with little regard to harmony or good taste. The
interior, however, reflects the taste of the present august occupants.
Much of the heavy rubbish accumulated in preceding centuries has been
relegated to the lumber room, and the vast halls and corridors have been
refurnished throughout. Rich tapestries cover the walls, and the palace
still contains upwards of 300 pictures, though the finest works of art
have gone to fill the galleries of Madrid. The chapel is only worth
visiting for the tombs of Philip V. and his Italian Queen.
But if the Palace of San Ildefonso hardly rewards the visitor for his
journey from Madrid, the park is a thing of beauty and a joy at least
during a long day. Here flourish the elm, the lime, the pine, and the
chestnut, forming delicious woods. In the ornamental gardens exists the
very finest system of fountains the world has seen. Philip V. far
surpassed the achievements of the Roi Soleil in this direction. The
first visit is naturally to the lake, a beautiful expanse of water on
the bank of which is situated the important piscicultural establishment,
founded in 1867 by the King-Consort Francisco.
The gardens are filled with statues of mythological characters, grouped
with great skill among the foliage. Those most admired are the Lucretia,
Daphne, Phœbus, and America. Especially beautiful is the group of Diana
and her nymphs surprised by Actæon, in the centre of a magnificent
fountain. Contemplating the play of the waters Philip V. is said to have
exclaimed “This has amused me three minutes and cost me three millions.”
A still finer and taller column of water issues from the Trumpet of
Fame, breaking in a shower of crystalline drops 130 feet above the water
level; while miniature rainbows interlace and form an aureole round the
head of the figure. In the centre of another lake, Latona is seen,
embracing her children, while her enemies, transformed into frogs, vomit
forth jets of water in impotent rage, which cross and recross, forming
arches in bewildering variety.
There is nothing equal to this to be seen elsewhere. The achievements of
the immortal Mr Brock with fire have been eclipsed by Renato Firmin with
the conflicting element. Spain can boast the finest display of
hydrotechnics in the world.
Before we leave this favourite home of His Catholic Majesty it is worth
while to recall a few of the events of which it has been the theatre.
On the 17th September 1832, Ferdinand VII. lay here dying. All those
round him--his family, his ministers, even the garrison--were devoted to
the interests of Don Carlos, and even his confessor ceased not to
importune the dying king to revoke the Pragmatic Sanction and to decree
the exclusion of his own infant daughter from the throne. Queen
Cristina, in the face of such pressure, remained inactive and
despairing. With his hand guided, it is said, by the Bishop of Leon,
Ferdinand at last traced his feeble signature to the decree which
disinherited his child. The triumph of the Carlist faction seemed
complete. Suddenly at the doors of the palace appeared the Queen’s
sister, Doña Luisa Carlota, a woman of such spirit that no one
there--minister or officer or prelate--dared bar her way to the King’s
bedside. The court presently resounded with her shrill denunciations of
the Queen’s want of courage, of the King’s weakness. She summoned to her
presence the trembling minister, Calomarde, and when he offered his
hand, struck him on the face. “White hands do not wound” stammered the
statesman and fled from the presence of the royal mænad. Before such a
tempest of righteous indignation, intriguers and schemers retired. Force
at the last can always break through the meshes of treachery. Many of
those who witnessed the memorable scene must have thought of the furious
bull at Madrid which bore down before it the most dexterous of
banderilleros, the bravest of espadas, and breaking over the barriers,
dispersed a whole population. Before nightfall the decree was revoked
and the succession of the Infanta Isabella confirmed anew by royal
decree. Bravo Luisa Carlota!
Four years later, Cristina, now regent, had to face alone and
unprotected, a mob headed by the palace guard, which broke into her
room, loudly demanding the re-establishment of the Constitution of 1812.
The Queen, unmoved and tactful, asked the deputation if they knew what
the constitution was. According to the Honourable John Hay (see his
“Castilian Days”) they replied, “No, but we hear it is a good thing, and
will make salt cheaper.” The story like most good ones, is certainly
untrue, and may be classed with the legend that in 1893 when there was
an agitation in Belgium for an extended franchise, some peasant women
presented themselves at the Town Hall with buckets to carry away their
share of the “Suffrage!”
The only other royal residence which can form the goal of an excursion
from Madrid is El Pardo, a shooting-box on a large scale, six miles
from the capital. The hunting seat built here by Enrique III. was
replaced by a palace in 1543. The building is very simple, and contains
but a single court. The walls in the interior are hung with tapestries
after the designs of Goya (made in Madrid) and Teniers (made at Les
Gobelins). Students of Spanish art should visit this palace for a sight
of the best of the very few remaining works of Gaspar Becerra--the
Legend of Perseus and Andromeda. The chapel contains a copy of Ribalta’s
altar-piece in Magdalen Chapel, Oxford. Over the staircase is a fine
equestrian portrait of Don John of Austria, attributed to Ribera. These
works of art having been inspected, there is little to detain you at El
Pardo. The shooting in the adjacent covers is excellent, but few of my
readers will have the time or opportunity to prove this for themselves.
VII
ALCALÁ DE HENARES
Twenty-one miles from Madrid, on a plain two thousand feet above
sea-level, is the little town of Alcalá de Henares, whose annals are so
intimately associated with the history of Spain that it deserves more
than passing mention. In 1510, Alcalá was a famous University town,
esteemed equally with Salamanca, and frequented by the most learned
professors, doctors, and students of that age. Here, it is claimed, was
born the great Miguel Cervantes, and in the church of Santa Maria he was
baptised in 1547. Catharine of Aragon, first of the wives of Henry VIII.
of England, was a native of the place. But long before the sixteenth
century, Alcalá de Henares was a town of importance, for the Romans
settled here, and named the centre Complutum, while the Moors, at a
later date, fortified the Roman station and called it the “stronghold”
or “castle.”
Until the University, founded here by Cardinal Ximenez, was removed to
Madrid, Alcalá de Henares was a town of note, populated by over ten
thousand students. As early as the thirteenth century the Court
frequently sat here to administer the _fueros_, and Alcalá was one of
the first bishoprics founded in Spain. Cervantes speaks of the town of
his birth as “the famous Complutum”; and Erasmus, in a letter to Vives,
relates that “the cultivation of languages and polite letters has given
celebrity to the University of Alcalá, whose principal ornament is that
illustrious and truly worthy old man, Anthony de Nebrija, who has
outstripped many Nestors.”
The students of the Alcalá University were a very merry community. Many
are the tales repeated of their frolics, their escapades, and their
Bohemianism. They prided themselves upon the carelessness of their
dress, and at holiday time sang to the guitar for chance coppers thrown
from the windows. Yet there were many serious students in the colleges,
which numbered about twenty, and many youths sat at the feet of the sage
teachers and learned lecturers who were retained by Cardinal Ximenez for
the instruction of the pupils. Cervantes was among the students of
Alcalá before he went to Madrid; but we read that he was not much
inclined to follow the academic course, preferring poetry and romance to
the dry tomes of theology and philosophy.
The ancient University was first established on the site of the present
Colegio de San Ildefonso, which was built in 1583. Two celebrated
architects, Gumiel and Gil de Hontañon, designed the building, and
showed great taste in planning the front and the patios. The
amphitheatre, in which the honours of the college were bestowed upon
diligent students, and the chapel, are fairly preserved, and contain
some interesting memorials of the days of prosperity and culture at
Alcalá. In design the chapel is a curious mixture of the Renaissance and
Morisco styles of architecture.
Ximenez, more correctly called Cisneros, is one of the most impressive
figures in Spanish history. He was a shrewd politician, a profound
pietist, a promoter of learning, an ascetic, and an exemplar in works of
charity. He was, however, tainted with fanaticism, and at his direction
many hundreds of ancient Arabic books were burned, a step the wisdom of
which is still a matter of controversy. From 1516 till his death in
1518, the Cardinal held the regency of Castile, an office which provoked
the resentment of many old and noble houses in the kingdom, for, though
Ximenez was of high birth, he came of an impoverished family. Upon being
challenged by the grandees for his authority, the Cardinal led a
deputation to the window of his palace, and pointing to a body of armed
men in the courtyard, said: “By these powers I govern Castile until
Prince Carlos shall arrive or shall supersede me.”
The worsting of the French invaders in Navarre was due to the militant
Cardinal’s tactics. He dismantled the forts, except Pamplona, which he
rendered almost unassailable, and having garrisoned the capital of the
kingdom, he defied the troops of France. To him also Spain owed the
establishment of a militia, or citizen army, though the institution
found little favour with the populace. Although Ximenez undoubtedly
checked the study of Hebrew and Arabic in Spain, it must be remembered
that his energy and his zeal secured the University of Alcalá de
Henares, and that he produced here the great Polyglot Bible hence called
the Complutensian. The books which this censor permitted to be used were
“Catechisms, solid and simple explanations of Christian doctrine, and
other writings calculated to enlighten the minds of the people.”
A noteworthy figure connected with the history of Alcalá de Henares was
the learned and liberal-minded Nebrija, a reformer of a very different
cast of intellect from that of Cardinal Ximenez who proved, however, his
generous protector. Antonio de Nebrija was the Erasmus of Spain. He
spent ten years of study in Italy, and returned to lecture at the
University of Alcalá and to encourage learning among his countrymen.
Although Nebrija encountered strong opposition in certain quarters, he
strove till his old age to improve education in Spain, and contrived to
gain the countenance of many persons of high position. Queen Isabella
the Catholic was herself amongst his pupils.
The surroundings of Alcalá de Henares are austere and bleak; and if it
were not for the hills that screen the town from the north, it would be
considerably colder and more wind-swept than it is. A stream meanders by
the town, and elms and poplars grow on this green upland of the sierras;
but the environs of Alcalá cannot be called sylvan. Towards Meco, at one
time a Moorish settlement, the country is of a softer and more pastoral
character, enlivened by numerous mountain rivulets. This village is
about four miles from Alcalá.
The Archbishop’s Palace is one of the monuments of the place, and it is
now used as a repository for historical archives. Berruguete and other
celebrated architects planned the building, which has some interesting
patios and a fine staircase, showing the ornate tendency of the age in
which the palace was designed.
The Colegiata has been restored. Its chief object of interest is the
beautiful monument to Cardinal Ximenez, by Fancelli, an Italian
sculptor. Juan Francés executed the reja, or screen, of the chapel in
this edifice, and the saints Justo and Pastor, to whom the Colegiata is
dedicated, were buried in the vault.
In Santa Maria, an unimposing church, Cervantes was christened; and upon
the house where he was born we shall find an inscription containing a
tribute to his genius. Several towns in Spain claim to be the birthplace
of the author of “Don Quixote,” and it is not absolutely proved that he
was born at Alcalá de Henares. There is, however, scarcely any doubt
that he was baptised here, for the registers contain an entry of his
baptism, and, as children in Spain were christened almost immediately
after their birth, there is perhaps the strongest claim to be set forth
by the townspeople, who aver that Alcalá is “the real birthplace of the
immortal Cervantes.”
Still following the windings of the river Henares, we may reach
Guadalajara in a rail journey of about fourteen miles from Alcalá. Here
the Castilian landscape is of a less severe aspect, and the Roman and
Moorish associations of the town tempt the traveller to linger for a
while. The situation of Guadalajara is elevated, and the Romans made it
a fortified place, and built an aqueduct from the hills.
The Palace of the Duke del Infantado is the most interesting building in
the town. It is in the blended styles of the Goths and the reconciled
Moors, and the patios are beautifully decorated, though much of the
ornamentation of the interior has suffered the impairment of age and
neglect.
On our way from Madrid to these fascinating towns of Castile we gain a
glimpse of the stern order of the natural surroundings amongst which
Cervantes was reared. This is not “the sunny Spain” of the south, but
the Spain of the hardy Castilians, and the country of wind-searched
highlands, where vegetation is thin, and whole districts are without
foliage and shade. The towns and villages are often in green oases of
the dreary table-land, but some of them are among the rocks of this
sterile region, and exposed to snowstorms and hurricanes. Were it not
for the system of irrigation which the Spaniards learned from the Moors,
the plight of the farmer upon these table-lands would be melancholy
indeed; but even in the bleakest territory the system of artificially
watering the parched, sun-baked soil works wonders, and grain crops
smile here and there among the savage hill-slopes of the despoblados or
wastes, and almost everywhere flocks gain pasturage in the summer.
VIII
THE BULL-FIGHT
The origin and antiquity of bull-fighting in Spain is a subject that has
engaged the minds of many writers, and led to much research and
interminable discussion. It is most probable that those who incline to
the opinion that this pastime was instituted by the Romans are in the
right, though there is undoubted evidence that the Moors, if they did
not introduce the _corrida_, or _lidia_, adopted it, and carried
bull-fighting to perfection. The sport, however, seems to accord more
with the character of the Roman than the Moorish conquerors of Spain,
for the Romans possessed a passion for scenes of combat in the arena
between gladiators and fierce animals, whereas there is no such strong
testimony to show that the Moors took an equal delight in these feats of
the circus.
The _taurilia_ of the Romans resembled the fights with bulls that may be
witnessed to-day in every large town of Spain. Whatever may have been
the origin of these contests, it is certain that, since the days of the
Moors, the bull-fight has endured as the chief recreation of all classes
of the population. There is in no other country any sport that can be
compared with it in importance and in the sway of its fascination upon
the public. The passion for horse-racing in England is not general, and
the diversion owes its popularity in a large degree to the chances of
gambling which it offers. Eliminate betting from the turf, and you will
find that those who “follow racing” simply from an enthusiasm for
rearing and running horses, and those who enjoy the amusement from the
mere pleasure of watching competitions in speed between horses form an
almost insignificant minority. In this country where horse-racing is
regarded as a national pastime, the proportion of the populace that
takes any interest in the breeding of the horses, the technique of
riding, and racing _per se_ is greatly restricted. But this is not the
case with bull-fighting in Spain. Here every one from the noble to the
mule-driver is learned in all the rules of the game, keenly critical of
the exploits of the performers in the ring, and ever ready to talk with
fervour upon the absorbing topic.
The hold which this pastime has upon the Spanish imagination is so
strong that it is a part of the national character, as deep-seated as
the sentiments of piety and loyalty, and as powerful as the feeling of
patriotism. King or peasant, man or woman, every native of Spain is a
lover of the _corrida_; every child plays at bull-fighting as soon as he
can walk; and every youth, who would be thought manly and a true son of
Spain, yearns to emulate the courage and the dexterity of the _espada_.
Hundreds of volumes have been written in Spain upon the art of
bull-fighting, the history of the ring, the lives of eminent _toreros_,
and the records of famous arenas. Bull-fighting has produced an array of
ardent chroniclers, poets, and hosts of journalists, and it has
quickened the brush or pencil of artists from before the time of Goya
down to Zuloaga.
The breeding of bulls for the ring may be described as one of the
national industries of Spain. Noblemen endeavour to keep up the breed
and the fighting qualities of bulls, and the rearing of bulls is the
proper occupation of a gentleman. The beautiful Duchess of Alba, the
friend of Goya, was an enthusiastic admirer of the sport, and a breeder
of bulls. The _vacadas_ or breeding establishments of Andalusia produce
the finest fighting bulls. They are considered fit for the combat, or
warrantable, at the age of five years, when their value averages about
£50 each. Over a thousand of these highly-bred animals are killed in the
bull-rings of Spain annually, while the number of horses gored to death
is very much larger.
In the old days bull-fights were mimic representations of warfare, in
which the true caballero aspired to take part and to distinguish
himself. The _toreros_ were amateurs belonging to high families, and
several of the kings of Spain were expert exponents of the art of the
_espada_. Accidents and deaths in the arena were of common occurrence,
sometimes several knights were killed during a single performance. At
all royal _fêtes_ a bull-fight was part of the amusement provided. If a
prince was born, or married, the event was celebrated by a grand display
of bull-fighting, while the coronation of a sovereign was always made
the occasion for a brilliant spectacle in the ring. In Madrid these
fights were held in the Plaza Mayor, a big quadrangle in the centre of
the city. The plaza is surrounded by houses of several storeys high,
having balconies and an arcade. The Panaderia, or Royal Bakery, served
as a royal stand, and here the Court assembled in the balconies to
witness the feats of the grandees, who engaged the fierce bulls with
lances. No one of vulgar rank was permitted to take part in the
contest.
In the early days the torero sometimes encountered the bull with a
spear, on foot, as may be seen in old bull-fighting prints. The use of
horses in the ring came later. Dogs were often set upon the bulls, to
incense them, and up to the year 1840 bears and other animals were
introduced into the ring. These _combats_ have been abandoned. In the
old bull-fighting bills we read of “a grand fight between a big elephant
and two big bulls.” The dogs were of proven courage, and bred for
strength and endurance. They often succeeded in pinning the bull by the
nose, and holding his head down; but frequently they lost their lives on
the points of his horns. Théophile Gautier, in “Wanderings in Spain,”
describes this bull-baiting by dogs.
Despite the passion which the Spaniard has always exhibited for the
bull-fight, the amusement has been more than once condemned by the
Church and State. But such edicts and acts have been withdrawn, and the
crowd has once more thronged the amphitheatre. Pope Pius V. issued a
proclamation against bull-fighting in the year 1567, but in 1576 Pope
Clement VIII. revoked the measure. At a much later date the _corrida_
was interdicted by Godoy, but the sport was again revived, and
continues to flourish at the present time. The opponents of the ring
to-day are in a minority, but their number is slowly increasing, and
there seems to be something in the nature of a humanitarian crusade
against the sport. One or two publicists are certainly opposed to the
pastime.