CHAPTER XIV.
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.