Madrid: an historical description and handbook of the Spanish capital

by Albert Frederick Calvert

To say that Madrid is an attempted replica of Paris is scarcely a fair description of the city. Madrid has an aspect and a character of its own. Its gaieties are tempered with Castilian restraint. The business of the city is conducted without bustle; the diversions are matters of importance, and they are keenly enjoyed; but the Madrileño is not so vivacious and hilarious as the Parisian. Even here, in the hub of modern Spain, the Spaniard exhibits his placidity and patience. He is not given to hurry. The express train, which travels at a speed of twenty-five miles an hour, is fast enough for him, and he will get up in the early morning to catch it. Yet life in Madrid is decidedly animated, even if it is the pursuit of pleasure and not of wealth that occupies its inhabitants.

And yet there is trading and speculating in the city, and merchants contrive to build up businesses, and shopkeepers thrive, and occasionally make large fortunes. But the aim is rather to enjoy life than to “push” and “hustle” in the hope of accumulating dollars by middle age. In fine, the art of contented enjoyment is discreetly cultivated in Madrid by all classes. Valdés, in his novel “Froth,” tells us how the “smart set” and the fashionable idlers of the city pass their days, and the picture is not unlike the life of our own West End society. But sentiment is a luxury for which the rich are prepared to pay a high price. You may see beautifully furnished houses deserted and allowed to fall into ruin by the owner, because his loved wife or child drew their last breath there, perhaps years ago.

No, despite the tramcars, the modern air of the streets, and the London and Parisian fashions in dress, you cannot fail to realise that this is a Spanish city. Look at the workman, in his canvas blouse and drill trousers, with the boina on his head and hemp-soled canvas shoes upon his feet; or the work-girl, with a rose in her hair and a fan in her hand. These are types of Spain, distinctive in their social ideals, their garb, and their physiognomy. Now and then, a peasant from the provinces is seen rubbing shoulders with a grandee, clad in the costume of Piccadilly. The contrast is sharp; the man about town and the field-toiler might be natives of two different countries, for the wear of the peasant is more African than European. His feet are in sandals, his legs bound with linen, his head tied up in a kerchief, and his body clothed with white cotton. And around his waist is a broad, gay silk sash, in whose voluminous folds he conceals his money and his keen-edged, long-bladed navaja.

How antiquated, too, in British eyes is the ox-cart, heavy and ramshackle, with its squeaking wheels, and pair of bullocks under the carved wooden yoke! And the mule-teams—the gaunt, bony beasts, in Moorish-looking harness, with jangling bells around their necks, and the quaint devices of the clipper upon their coats, attended by swarthy men in knee-breeches and short jackets, with the peaked Castilian hat upon their cropped heads—these surely are of the days when Don Quixote rode on the great grey wastes of La Mancha, accompanied by his loyal Sancho.

Old Madrid is rapidly disappearing. One of its confines was formerly the Puerta del Sol, which is now almost in the centre of the city. The gate is no longer in existence, but the place in which it stood still bears its name, and is the focus of the city’s life. Ancient purlieus were situated to the east of the royal palace; to-day scarcely any of the alleys and small squares remain, though here and there you may note a quaint corner or an old house.

From the Puerta del Sol the chief thoroughfares of Madrid radiate. The Calle de Alcalá, the Calle del Arenal, the Calle Mayor, and the fashionable Carrera de San Jerónimo branch from this central square. In the Puerta del Sol stands the Ministerio de la Gobernación, a large, but not architecturally notable, edifice. Here also are the chief hotels, cafés, and restaurants. In the Calle de San Jerónimo are the best shops. Every one comes to stroll, lounge, and “to take the sun” in this bright, busy space in the heart of the city. It is the Piccadilly Circus of Madrid. All the types of Madrid’s population may be seen here from the bull-fighter to the great legislator. American and English tourists mingle with the throng; German commercial travellers talk business to their customers on the seats outside the cafés; and one hears several languages spoken in the hotels.

In the Buen Retiro and the Parque de Madrid you may study the beau monde of the city from the shade of the trees during the afternoon parade. Here there are over two hundred acres of pleasure grounds, more or less unkempt, but containing a fine avenue, paths, and umbrageous trees. The upper classes of the city delight in riding and driving. It is necessary to own a carriage and pair in order to figure in Madrid society, and the hobby of motoring is on the increase here as elsewhere in Europe. In former times the Buen Retiro was a royal demesne. Kings of Spain from Philip II. to Charles III. resorted to this pleasaunce, and a palace stood in the gardens. Nowadays, the Parque is a public pleasure resort, used by high and low, and often merry with a carnival or a battle of flowers. The Royal Palace overlooks the Manzanares, and dominates the city. It is in form a huge quadrangle, designed by Sachetti. The views from its windows are wide and impressive, and an idea of their beauty may be gained from the balcony near the Royal Armoury. Behind the palace is the Campo del Moro, a lovely garden on the spot where Ibn Yusuf besieged the old Alcázar. Only the privileged are permitted to enter this verdant sanctuary.

In an interesting book, “A Year in Spain,” written by a young American in 1831, there is a picture of the daily life of Madrid which may serve to illustrate the day’s round among the leisured in the city of to-day: “The first thing in the morning was to arrange and order everything for the day. Then each took the little higada of chocolate and panecillo, or small roll, of the delightful bread of Madrid. This meal is not taken at a table but sitting, standing, or walking from room to room, and not unfrequently in bed. This over, each went to his peculiar occupations; the old woman, with her Diarios and Gacetas, to open her reading-room in the entry; Florencia to ply her needle; and Don Valentin to play tinker overhead, having first taken out his flint and steel, and cigar and paper, to prepare his brief cigarillo, which he would smoke, with a sigh between each puff, after those days of liberty when a cigar cost two cuartos instead of four. Towards noon he would roll himself in his capa parda—cloak of brown—and go down into the Puerta del Sol, to learn the thousand rumours which there find daily circulation. If it were a feast day, the Mass being over, he would go with his daughter to the Prado. At two the family took its mid-day meal, consisting, beside some simple dessert, of soup and puchero, well-seasoned with pepper, saffron, and garlic. If it had been summer, the siesta would have passed in sleep; but it being winter, Don Valentin took advantage of the short-lived heat to wander forth with a friend, and in the evening went to his tertulia, or friendly reunion. In summer, one, or even two o’clock, is the hour of retiring; but in winter it is eleven. Always the last thing before going to bed was to take a supper of stewed meat and tomatoes, prepared in oil, to sleep upon.”

Although this is a fair account of the inactive life of Madrid, it must not be supposed that no business is done in the city. There are comparatively few manufactures; but there are many shops, and a great share of the produce of Spain is brought into the capital. Tobacco and metal ware are the principal manufactures, and there are a large number of craftsmen who work independently at various trades. Madrid is more a centre of merchants and shopkeepers than of manufacturers.

George Borrow came to Madrid, on his Bible-distributing mission, and lodged in the Calle de la Zarza, “a dark, dirty street, which, however, was close to the Puerta del Sol, the most central point of Madrid.” Borrow went to see two criminals strangled, and gathered some vivid and lurid impressions of the life among the manolos, “the rabble of Madrid.” He declares that the walls of the city enclose “the most extraordinary vital mass to be found in the entire world,” and claims Madrid as essentially Spanish. This is true only if we have regard for the fact that the metropolis of Spain has still a character of its own, and is in many respects more “European” and modern than Seville, Cadiz, Malaga, and Granada. In Cordova and Toledo we are reminded at every step of the influence of the Morisco, but in Madrid we recall the Spain of Charles V. and of the Bourbons.