TOLEDO, AND TALKS ABOUT SPAIN.
Toledo is about fifty–six miles from Madrid. As
the principal had laid out a large day’s work, it
became necessary to procure a special train, as the first
regular one did not reach Toledo till after eleven
o’clock. The special was to leave at six; and it was
still dark when the long line of small omnibuses that
conveyed the company to the station passed through
the streets.
“What is the matter with that man?” asked Sheridan,
attracted by the cries of a man on the sidewalk
with a sort of pole in his hand.
“That’s a watchman,” replied the doctor.
“What’s he yelling about?”
“‘_Las cinco y medio y sereno_’ is what he says,” added
the surgeon. “‘Half–past five and pleasant weather’ is
the translation of his cry. When it rains he calls the
hour, and adds ‘_fluvioso_;’ when there is a fire he
informs the people on his beat of the fact, and gives
the locality of the conflagration, which he gets from
the fire–alarm. In some of the southern cities, as in
Seville, the watchman indulges in some pious exclamations,
‘Twelve o’clock, and may the Virgin watch over
our good city!’ It used to be the fashion in some of
the cities of our country, for the guardian of the night
to indulge in these cries to keep himself awake; and I
have heard him shout, ‘One o’clock and all is well’ in
Pittsburg.”
“I have walked about the _Puerta del Sol_ in the evening;
but I have not seen a watchman,” added Sheridan.
“Probably they do not use the cry early in the night,
in the streets where the people are gathered; at least,
there seems to be no need of it,” replied the doctor.
“But I suppose there are a great many things yet in
Madrid that you have not seen. For instance, did you
notice the water–carriers?”
“I did,” answered Murray. “They carry the water
in copper vessels something like a soda–fountain, placed
upon a kind of saddle, like the porters in Constantinople.
“Some of them have donkeys, with panniers in which
they put kegs, jars, and glass vessels filled with water.
These men are called ‘_aguadors_,’ and their occupation
is considered mean business; the _caballero_ whose
house we visited would be too proud to be a water–carrier,
and would rather starve than engage in it.”
The tourists left the omnibuses, and took their
places in the cars. As soon as the train had started,
as it was still too dark to see the country, the doctor
and his friends resumed the conversation about the
sights of Madrid.
“Did you go to the _Calle de la Abada_?” asked Dr.
Winstock.
“I don’t know: I didn’t notice the name of any such
street,” replied Sheridan; and Murray was no wiser,
both of them declaring that the Spanish names were
too much for them.
“It is not unlike Market Street in Philadelphia,
twenty years ago, when the middle of the avenue was
filled with stalls in a wooden building.”
“I saw that,” added Sheridan. “The street led to
a market. All the men and women that had any
thing to sell were yelling with all their might. They
tackled every person that came near.”
“I saw the dirt–cart go along this same street,” said
Murray. “It was a wagon with broad wheels as
though it was to do duty in a swamp, with a bell fixed
on the forward part. At the ring of the bell, the
women came out of their houses, and threw baskets
of dirt into the vehicle, which a man in it emptied and
returned to them.”
“I was in the city in fruit time once, and saw large
watermelons sold for four and six _cuartos_ apiece, a
_cuarto_ being about a cent,” continued the doctor.
“The nicest grapes sold for six _cuartos_ a pound.
Meat is dear, and so is fish, which has to be brought
from ports on the Mediterranean and the Bay of Biscay.
Bread is very good and cheap; but the shops
you saw were not bakeries: these are off by themselves.”
“They don’t seem to have any objection to lotteries
in Madrid,” said Sheridan. “I couldn’t move in the
great streets without being pestered with the sellers
of lottery–tickets.”
“There are plenty of them; for the Spaniards wish
to make fortunes without working for them.”
“Many of the lottery–venders are boys,” added
Murray. “They called me Señorito.”
“They called me the same. The word is a title of
respect, which means master. The drawing of a lottery
is a great event in the city, and the newspaper is sometimes
filled with the premium numbers.”
“I did not see so many beggars as I expected, after
all I had read about them,” said Sheridan. “But I
could understand their lingo, when they said, ‘For the
love of God.’”
“That is their universal cry. You will see enough
in the south to make up the deficiency of the capital,”
laughed the doctor. “They swarm in Granada and
Malaga; and you can’t get rid of them. In Madrid,
as in the cities of Russia, you will find the most of the
beggars near the churches, relying more upon those
who are pious enough to attend divine service than
upon those in the busy part of the city. They come
out after dark, and station themselves at any blank
wall, where there are no doors and windows, and address
the passers–by. By the way, did you happen to
see a cow–house?” asked the doctor.
Neither of the two students knew what he meant.
“It is more properly a milk–shop. In the front you
will see cups, on a clean white cloth on the table, for
those who wish to drink milk on the spot. Behind a
barred petition in the rear you will notice a number of
cows, some with calves, which are milked in the presence
of the customers, that they may know they get the
genuine article.”
“Don’t they keep any pump–handle?” asked Murray.
“I never saw any,” laughed the surgeon. “The
customers are allowed to put in the water to their own
taste, which I think is the best arrangement.”
“I saw plenty of cook–shops, like those in Paris,”
said Sheridan. “In one a cook was frying something
like Yankee doughnuts.”
“If you got up early enough to visit the breakfast–stalls
of the poorer people, you would have been interested.
A cheap chocolate takes the place of coffee,
which with bread forms the staple of the diet. But the
shops are dirty and always full of tobacco–smoke. The
higher classes in Spain are not so much given to feasting
and dining out as the English and Americans.
They are too poor to do it, and perhaps have no taste
for such expensive luxuries. The _tertulia_ is a kind of
evening party that takes the place of the dinner to
some extent, and is a _cosa de España_. Ladies and gentlemen
are invited,—except to literary occasions, which
are attended only by men,—and the evening is passed
in card–playing and small talk. Lemonade, or something
of the kind, is the only refreshment furnished.
“They go home sober, then,” laughed Murray.
“Spaniards always go home sober; but they do not
even have wine at the _tertulia_.”
“I have heard a great deal said about the _siesta_ in
Spain; and I have read that the shops shut up, and
business ceased entirely, for two or three hours in the
middle of the day,” said Sheridan; “but I did not see
any signs of the suspension of business in Madrid.”
“Very many take their _siesta_, even in Madrid; and
in the hot weather you would find it almost as you
have described it,—as quiet as Sunday,” replied the
doctor.
“Sunday was about as noisy a day as any in Madrid,”
added Murray.
“I meant a Sunday at home or in London. When
I was here last, the thirty–first day of October came on
Sunday; and it was the liveliest day I ever saw in
Spain. The forenoon was quiet; for some of the
people went to church. At noon there was a cock–fight,
attended by some of the most noted men in
Spain; and I went to it, though I was thoroughly disgusted
both with the sacrilege and the barbarity of the
show. At three o’clock came a bull–fight, lasting till
dark, in which eight bulls and seven horses were killed.
In the evening was the opera, and a great time at all
the theatres. I confess that I was ashamed of myself
for visiting these places on the sabbath; but I was in
Spain to learn the manners and customs of the people,
and excused myself on this plea. Monday was the
first day of November, which is All Saints’ Day. Not
a shop was open. The streets were almost deserted;
and there was nothing like play to be seen, even among
the children. It was like Sunday at home or in
London, though perhaps even more silent and subdued.
On this day the people visit the cemeteries, and decorate
the tombs and graves of the dead with wreaths
of flowers and _immortelles_. I pointed out to you the
cemetery in the rear of the _Museo_. I visited it on
that day; and it was really a very solemn sight.”
“I wish I had visited the cemetery,” said Sheridan.
“I am sorry you did not; but I did not think of it
at the time we were near it. It is a garden surrounded
by high walls, like parts of those we saw in
Italy. In this wall are built a great many niches deep
enough to receive a coffin, the lid of which, in Spain,
as in Washington, is _dos d’âne_, or roof–shaped; and the
cell is made like it at the top. Besides these catacombs,
there are graves and tombs. As in Paris these
are often seen with flowers, the toys of children, portraits,
and other mementos of the departed, laid upon
them.”
“I saw a funeral in Geronimo Street yesterday,”
added the captain. “The hearse was an open one,
drawn by four horses covered with black velvet. I
followed it to a church, and saw the service, which was
not different from what I have seen at home. When
the procession started for the grave, it consisted mostly
of _berlinas_; and its length increased with every rod it
advanced.”
“I was told, that, when a person dies in Spain, the
friends of the family send in a supply of cooked food,
on the supposition that the bereaved are in no condition
to attend to such matters,” continued the doctor.
“But it is light enough now for us to see the scenery.”
The country was flat and devoid of interest at first;
but it began to improve as the train approached Aranjuez,
where the kings have a royal residence, which
the party were to visit on the return from Toledo.
“What river is that, Dr. Winstock?” asked Murray.
“_El Tajo_,” replied the doctor, with a smile.
“Never heard of it,” added Murray.
“There you labor under one of the disadvantages of
a person who does not understand the language of the
country in which he is travelling; for you are as
familiar with the English name of this river as you are
with that of the Rhine,” replied the doctor.
“It is the Tagus,” added Sheridan. “I know that
Toledo is on this river.”
“Who could suspect that _El Tah–hoe_ was the Tagus?”
queried Murray.
“You would if you knew Spanish.”
“There is a Spanish _caballero_, mounted on a mule,”
said Murray, calling the attention of the party to a
peasant who was sitting sideways on his steed.
“All of them ride that way,” added Sheridan.
“Not all of them do, for there is a fellow straddling
his donkey behind two big panniers,” interposed the
surgeon.
The train continued to follow the river till it reached
Toledo. The students got out of the cars, and were
directed to assemble near the station in full view of the
ancient city. The day was clear and mild, so that it
was no hardship to stand in the open air, and listen to
the description of the city given by Professor Mapps.
“Toledo, as you can see for yourselves, is situated on a hill, or a
series of hills, which rise to a considerable height above the rest of
the country. Some of the old Spanish historians say that the city was
founded soon after the creation of the world; but better authorities
say it was begun by the Romans in the year B.C. 126, which makes it old
enough to satisfy the reasonable vanity of the citizens of the place. Of
course it was captured by the Moors, and recaptured by the Spaniards;
and many of the buildings, and the bridge you see are the work of the
Romans and the Moors. Under the Goths, in the seventh century, Toledo
became very wealthy and prosperous, and in its best days is said to have
had a population of a quarter of a million. It was made the capital of
Spain in 567. Early in the eighth century the Moors obtained possession
of the city, and made many improvements. In 1085, after a terrible
siege, Alfonso VI. of Castile took it from the Moors, and it was again
made the capital. The historians who carry the founding of Toledo almost
back to the flood say that the Jews fled from Jerusalem, when it was
captured by Nebuchadnezzar, to this city. Be this as it may, there were
a great many Hebrews in Toledo in ancient days. They were an industrious
people, and they became very wealthy. This people have been the butt
of the Christians in many lands, and they were so here. They were
persecuted, and their property confiscated; and it is said that the Jews
avenged their wrongs by opening the gates of the city to the Moors; and
then when the Moors served them in the same way, and despoiled them of
their wealth, they admitted the army of Alfonso VI. by the same means.
It has since been retained by the Christians. It was the capital and
the ecclesiastic head of the nation. The archbishops of Toledo were
immensely wealthy and influential.
“One of them was Ximenes, afterward cardinal, the Richelieu of Spain,
and one of the most famous characters of history. He was the powerful
minister of Ferdinand the Catholic, and the regent of the kingdom in
the absence of Charles V. He was a priest who continually mortified his
body, and at the same time a statesman of the highest order. He was the
confessor of Isabella I. When he was made archbishop of Toledo and head
of the Church in Spain, he refused to accept the high honor till he was
compelled to do so by the direct command of the pope. When he appeared
at court in his monkish robes, looking more like a half–starved hermit
than the primate of Spain, the courtiers laughed at him; but he meekly
bore the sneers and the scoffs of the light–hearted. He was required
by the pope to change his style of living, and make it conform to his
high position. He obeyed the order; but he wore the haircloth shirt
and frock of the order to which he belonged under his robes of purple.
In the elegant apartments of his palace, he slept on the floor with a
log of wood for a pillow. He led an expedition against the Moors into
Africa, and captured Oran. As regent he maintained the authority of the
king against the grandees, and told them they were to obey the king and
not to deliberate over his command. By his personal will he subdued the
great nobles.
“The Moors brought to Toledo, from Damascus, the art of tempering
steel for sword–blades; and weapons from either of these cities have
a reputation all over the world. There is a manufactory of swords and
other similar wares; and, while some contend that the blades made here
are superior to any others, more insist that those made in England are
just as good. When the capital was removed to Valladolid, Toledo began
to decline; and now it has only fifteen thousand inhabitants. In the
days that are past, the Jews and the Moors have been driven out of Spain
to a degree that has retarded the prosperity of the country; for both
the Hebrews and the Moslems were industrious and thriving races, and
added greatly to the wealth of the nation. In religion Ferdinand and
Isabella would be considered bigots and fanatics in our time; and their
statesmanship would confound the modern student of political economy.
But they did not live in our time; and we are grateful to them for the
good they did, regardless of their religious or political views.
“The large square structure which crowns the hill is the _Alcazar_, or
palace. It is in ruins, but what remains of it is what was rebuilt for
the fourth time. It was occupied by the Moorish and Gothic kings, as
well as by those of Castile and Leon. The principal sight of the city
is the cathedral. It is three hundred and seventy–three feet long, and
a little less than two hundred in width. The first church on the spot
was begun in the year 587. Among the relics you saw in the Escurial was
the entire skeleton of St. Eugenius, the first Archbishop of Toledo, who
was buried at St. Denis; and his remains were given to Philip II. by the
King of France. He presided at a council held in the original cathedral,
which was also visited, Dec. 18, 666, by the Virgin (the hour of the
day is not given); and it appears that she made one or more visits at
other times. The present church was begun in 1227, and completed in
1493, the year after the discovery of America. One of its chapels is
called the Capilla Mosarabe; and perhaps a word about it may interest
you. When the Moors captured the city, certain Christians remained, and
were allowed to enjoy their own religion; and, being separated from
those of the faith, they had a ritual which was peculiarly their own.
When the city was restored to the Christians, these people preferred
to retain the prayer–book, the customs and traditions, which had come
down to them from their own past. The clergy objected, and all efforts
to make them adopt the Roman forms were useless. A violent dispute
arose, which threatened serious consequences. It was finally decided to
settle the question after the manner of the times, by single combat;
and each party selected its champion. They fought, and the victory was
with the Mosarabic side. But the king Alfonso VI. and the clergy were
not satisfied, and, declaring that the means of deciding the case had
been cruel and impious, proposed another trial. This time it was to be
the ordeal by fire. A heap of fagots was lighted in the _Zocodover_,—the
public square near the cathedral,—and the Roman and the Mosarabic
prayer–books were committed to the flames. The Roman book was burned to
ashes, while the Toledan version remained unconsumed in the fire. There
was no way to get around this miraculous decision; and the people of the
city retained their ritual. When Ximenes became archbishop he seems to
have had more regard than his predecessors for the old ritual, called
the Apostolic Mass; and he not only ordained an order of priests for
this especial service, but built the chapel I have mentioned. I will
not detain you any longer, though there is much more that might be said
about this interesting city.”
Though the walk was rather long, the omnibuses were
scarce, and most of the students were obliged to foot it
into the city. The doctor and his travelling pupils preferred
this, because they wished to look at the bridge
and the towers on the way. They spent some time on
the former in looking down into the rapid river, and
in studying the structures at either end. The original
bridge was built by the Romans, rebuilt by the Moors,
and repaired by the Spaniards.
“You have been in the East enough to know that the
Orientals are fond of baths and other water luxuries.
The Jews brought to Toledo some knowledge of the
hydraulics of the Moslems; and they built an immense
water–wheel in the river, which Murray says was ninety
cubits—at least one hundred and thirty–five feet—high,
to force the water up the hill to the city through
pipes,” said the doctor, as he pointed out the ruins of
a building used for this purpose.
“I said it was ninety cubits high?” exclaimed Murray.
“I ought to have said ‘Ford,’ since he prepared the
hand–book of Spain that goes under your name.”
“I accept the amendment,” laughed Murray,
“And now there are no water–works in Toledo,
except such as you see crossing the bridge before us,”
added the surgeon, as he indicated a donkey with one
keg fixed in a saddle, like a saw–horse, and two others
slung on each side.
The party passed through the _Puerta del Sol_, which
is an old and gloomy tower, with a gateway through it.
It is a Moorish structure; and, after examining it, they
continued up the slope which winds around the hill to
the top, and reached the square to which the professor
had alluded. To the students the city presented a dull,
deserted, desolate, and inhospitable appearance. It
looked as though the people had got enough of the
place, and had moved out of town. Though full of
treasures for the student of architecture and of antiquity,
it had but little interest to progressive Young
America.
The party went at once to the cathedral. There is
no outside view of it except over the tops of the
houses, though portions of it may be seen in different
places. The interior was grand to look upon, but too
grand to describe; and we shall report only some of
Dr. Winstock’s talks to his pupils.
“This is the _Puerta del Niño Perdido_, or the Gate of
the Lost Child,” said he as they entered the church.
“The story is the foundation of many a romance of
the olden time. The clergy accused the wealthy Hebrews
of crucifying, as they did the Saviour, a Christian
boy, in order to use his heart in the passover service
as a charm against the Inquisition. The gate takes
the name from a fresco near it, representing the scene
when the lost child was missed. The Jews were charged
with the terrible deed, and plundered of their wealth,
which was the whole object of the persecution.”
The party walked through the grand structure,
looked into the choir in the middle, where a service
was in progress, and passed through several chapels,
stopping a considerable time in the _Capilla Mayor_,
where are monuments of some of the ancient kings
and other great men.
“This is the tomb of Cardinal Mendoza,” said the
doctor. “He was an historian, a scholar, and, like
Ximenes, a statesman and a warrior. The marble–work
in the rear of the altar cost two hundred thousand
ducats, or six times as many dollars.”
“One hundred and twenty schoolhouses at ten
thousand dollars apiece packed into that thing!”
exclaimed Murray.
“And Mr. Ford calls it a fricassee of marble!”
laughed the doctor, as they walked into the next chapel.
“This is the _Capilla de Santiago_. Do you know who he
was?”
“Of course we do. He was the patron saint of
Spain,—St. James, one of the apostles,” replied Sheridan.
“Do you remember what became of him?”
“He suffered martyrdom under Herod Agrippa,”
answered the captain.
“The Spaniards carry his history somewhat farther
than that event. As they wanted a distinguished
patron, and Rome had appropriated Peter and Paul,
they contented themselves with James the Elder, the son
of Zebedee, and the brother of John. When he was
dead, his body was conveyed by some miraculous agency
to Jaffa, where it embarked in a boat for Barcelona,
the legend informs us. Instead of going on shore, like
a peaceable corpse, it continued on its voyage, following
the coast of Spain, through the Strait of Gibraltar,
to the shore of Galicia, where it made a landing at
a place called Padron; or rather the dead–boat got
aground there. The body was found by some fishermen,
who had the grace to carry it to a cave, where, as
if satisfied with its long voyage made in seven days,
beating the P. and O. Steamers by a week, it rested
peaceably for eight hundred years. At the end of this
long period, it seems to have become restless again,
and to have caused certain telegraphic lights to be
exhibited over the cave. They were seen by a monk,
who informed the bishop of the circumstance. He
appears to have understood the meaning of the lights,
and examined the cave. He found the body, and knew
it to be that of St. James; but he has wisely failed to
put on record the means by which he identified it. A
church was built to contain the tomb of the patron
saint; but it was afterwards removed to the church of
Santiago, twelve miles distant.”
The party crossed the church, and entered the
Chapel of San Ildefonso. This saint, a primate of
Toledo, was an especial champion of the Virgin, and
so won her favor, that she came down from heaven,
and seated herself in his chair. She remained during
matins, chanting the service, and at its close placed
the church robes on his shoulders. The primate’s successor
undertook to sit down in this chair, but was
driven out by angels, which was rather an imputation
upon his sanctity. The Virgin repeated the visit several
times. St. Ildefonso’s body was stolen by the
Moors, but it was recovered by a miracle. The sacred
vestment the Virgin had placed upon his back was
taken away at the same time; but no miracle seems to
have been interposed to restore it, though it is said to
be in Oviedo, invisible to mortal eyes. In another
part of the edifice is the very stone on which the
Virgin stepped when she came first to the church. It
is enclosed by small iron bars, but the fingers may be
inserted so as to press it; and holes are worn into it
from the frequent touchings of the pilgrims to this
shrine.
“Here are the portraits of all the cardinals, from St.
Eugenio down to the present time,” said the doctor as
they entered the Chapter House. “Cardinal Albornez
died in Rome, and the pope desired to send his remains
to Toledo. As this was in 1364, there was no regular
line of steamers, or an express company, to attend to
the transportation: so he offered plenary indulgences
to those who would undertake the mission of conveying
the body to its distant resting–place. There were
plenty of poor people who could not purchase such
favors for their souls; and they were glad of the job
to bear the cardinal on their shoulders from town to
town till they arrived here.”
“Where is the chapel the professor told us about?”
asked Sheridan.
“We will go to that now.”
This chapel, though very rich in church treasures,
and one of the most venerated in the cathedral as
built to preserve the ancient ritual, contained nothing
that engaged the attention of the students, and Mr.
Mapps had already told its story. They hardly looked
at the image of the Virgin, which is dressed in magnificent
costume, covered with gold and jewels, when
it is borne in procession on Corpus Christi Day.
“I have seen enough of it,” said Murray, as they
left the cathedral, and walked to the _Alcazar_.
The old palace was only a reminder of what had
been; but the view from its crumbling walls was the
best thing about it. The party decided not to visit the
sword–factory, which is two miles out of the city; and
they went next to the church of _San Juan de los Reyes_.
It was a court chapel, and was erected by the Catholic
king to commemorate a victory. It is Gothic; but the
chains that are hung over the outside of it were all that
challenged the interest of the students.
“Those chains were the votive offerings of captives
who were released when Granada was taken by Ferdinand
and Isabella,” said the doctor, when his pupils
began to express their wonder. “There are some very
fine carvings and frescos in this church.”
“I don’t care for them,” yawned Murray: “I will
wait here while you and Sheridan go in.” But the
captain did not care to go in; and they continued their
walk to _Santa Maria la Blanca_ and _El Transito_, two
churches which had formerly been synagogues. They
were very highly ornamented; but by this time the students
wanted their dinner more than to see the elaborate
workmanship of the Jews or the Moors. They
were tired too; for Toledo with its up and down streets
is not an easy place to get about in. Some of the boys
said it reminded them of Genoa; but it is more like
parts of Constantinople, with its steep hills and Moorish
houses.
The party dined in various places in the city; and at
two o’clock they took the train for Aranjuez, and
arrived there in an hour.
“The late queen used to live here three months of
the year,” said the doctor, as they walked from the
station to the palace. “The town is at the junction of
the Jarama and the Tagus, and it is really a very pretty
place. There is plenty of water. Charles V. was the
first of the kings of Spain to make his residence at
Aranjuez. A great deal of work has been done here
since his time, by his successors.”
The students walked through the gardens, and went
through the palace. Perhaps the camels kept here
were more interesting to the young gentlemen, gorged
with six months’ sight–seeing in all the countries of
Europe, than any thing else they saw at the summer
residence of the kings of Spain.
At the station there is a very fair hotel with restaurant,
where the party had supper. But they had four
hours of weary waiting before the train for _Ciudad Real_
would arrive; and most of them tried to sleep, for it
had been a long day.
“Better be here than at the junction of this road
with that to Toledo,” said the doctor, as he fixed himself
for a nap. “The last time I was here I did not
understand it; and, when I came from Toledo, I got off
the train at the junction, which is Castillejo, ten miles
from Aranjuez.”
“I noticed the place when we went down this morning,”
replied Sheridan. “The station is little better
than a shed, and there is no town there.”
“The train was late; and I had to wait there without
my supper from eight o’clock till after midnight. It
was cold, and there was no fire. I was never more uncomfortable
for four hours in my life. The stations in
Spain are built to save money, and not for the comfort
of the passengers, at least in the smaller places. But
we had better go to sleep if we can; for we have to
keep moving for nearly twenty–four hours at the next
stretch.”
Not many of the party could sleep, tired as they
were, till they took the train at eleven o’clock. The
compartments were heated with hot–water vessels, or
rather the feet were heated by them. The students
stowed themselves away as well as they could; and
soon, without much encouragement to do so, they were
buried in slumber.