Kitabı oku: «The Picturesque Antiquities of Spain», sayfa 8

A match, de convenance, had been arranged for her by her parents, on the accomplishment of which they insisted the more rigidly from her being known to entertain an attachment, the object of which was disapproved. No resistance being of any avail, the wedding-day was named; and she was taken to Toledo for the purpose of making the necessary purchases for the occasion. It so happened that she was received by a relative, a member of the community of Santiagistas; and whether she confided her pains to the bosom of this relative, and yielded to her persuasions—nuns being usually given to proselytism; or perhaps acting on the impulse of the moment; she declared on the morning after her arrival her resolution never to quit the convent; preferring, as she resolutely affirmed, an entire life of seclusion, to an union with a man she detested. Instead, therefore, of the wedding dresses, a manton capitular was the only ornament purchased.

The property of this establishment remaining for the most part in possession of the respective original possessors, and not forming a common stock, the conscientious scruples of the revolution made an exception in its favour, owing to which it is not reduced to so destitute a condition as that of the other unclosed convents. The nuns of San Clemente—the principal convent of Toledo, and of which the abbess alone possessed private property, are reduced to a life of much privation, as are also those of all the other convents. Some obtain presents in return for objects of manual industry, such as dolls' chairs, and other similar toys. Those of San Clemente had, and still have, a reputation for superior skill in confectionary. A specimen of their talent, of which I had an opportunity of judging in the house of a friend of the abbess, appeared to me to warrant the full extent of their culinary fame. They do not, however, exercise this art for gain. At San Clemente, and no doubt at all the others, the new government—besides the confiscation of all rents and possessions in money and land—seized the provisions of corn and fruits which they found on searching the attics of the building.

Immediately below the ruined modern Alcazar, and facing the Expositos, is seen a vast quadrangular building, each front of which presents from twenty to thirty windows on a floor. It is without ornament, and is entered by a square doorway, which leads to an interior court. It is now an inn, called Fonda de la Caridad, but was originally the residence of the Cid, who built it simultaneously with the erection of the Alcazar, by Alonzo the Sixth, shortly after the taking of the town; Ruy Diaz being at that time in high favour, and recently appointed first Alcalde of Toledo, and governor of the palace. It was on the occasion of the first cortez held in this town, that the hero demanded a formal audience of Alonzo, in which he claimed justice against his two sons-in-law, the counts of Carrion.

These were two brothers, who had married the two Countesses of Bivar. On the occasion of the double marriage, a brilliant party had assembled at the Cid's residence, where all sorts of festivities had succeeded each other. The two bridegrooms, finding themselves, during their presence in this knightly circle, in positions calculated to test their mettle, instead of proving themselves, by a display of unequalled valour and skill, to be worthy of the choice by which they had been distinguished, gave frequent proofs of deficiency in both qualities; and, long before the breaking up of the party, their cowardice had drawn upon them unequivocal signs of contempt from many of the company, including even their host. Obliged to dissimulate their vexation as long as they remained at the château of the Cid, they concerted a plan of vengeance to be put in execution on their departure.

They took formal leave, and departed with their brides for their estate, followed by a brilliant suite. No sooner, however, had they reached the first town, than, inventing a pretext, they despatched all the attendants by a different route, and proceeded on their journey, only accompanied by their wives. Towards evening the road brought them to a forest, which appeared to offer facilities for putting their project in execution. Here they quitted the highway, and sought a retired situation.

It happened that an attendant of the Countesses, surprised at the determination of the party to divide routes, had been led by curiosity to follow them unobserved. This follower, after having waited some time for their return to the high-road, penetrated into the midst of the wood, in order to discover the cause of the delay. He found the two brides lying on the ground, almost without clothing, and covered with blood, and learned that they had just been left by their husbands, who had been scourging them almost to death.

It was against the perpetrators of this outrage that the Cid pleaded for justice. A certain number of nobles were selected by Alonzo, and directed to give a decision after hearing the accusation and the defence. The offence being proved, the Counts had nothing to urge in extenuation, and judgment was pronounced. All the sums of money, treasures, gold and silver vases and goblets, and precious stones, given by the Cid with his daughters as their dowry, to be restored; and (at the request of Ruy Diaz) the two Counts of Carrion, and their uncle, who had advised them to commit the act, were condemned to enter the lists against three of the followers of the Cid. The last decision was momentarily evaded by the Counts; who urged, that, having come to Toledo to be present at the cortez, they were unprovided with the necessary accoutrements. The King, however, insisted that they should not escape so mild a punishment, and repaired himself to Carrion, where he witnessed the combat, in which, it is needless to add, the culprits came off second best. The marriages being, at the same time, declared null, the Cid's daughters were shortly afterwards married a second time; the eldest, Doña Elvira, to Don Ramiro, son of Sancho, King of Navarre; and the younger, Doña Sol, to Don Pedro, hereditary Prince of Aragon.

LETTER XI.
STREETS OF TOLEDO. EL AMA DE CASA. MONASTERY OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES. PALACE OF DON HURTADO DE MENDOZA

Toledo.

We will now hasten to the opposite extremity of the city, where the monastery of San Juan de los Reyes lays claim to especial interest. But I already hear you cry for mercy, and exclaim against these endless convents and monasteries; the staircases, courts, and corridors of which cause more fatigue to your imagination, than to the limbs of those who, however laboriously, explore their infinite details. Infinite they are, literally, in Toledo; where the churches, the greater number of which belong to convents, are not seen, as elsewhere, scattered singly among the masses of the habitations, but are frequently to be found in clusters of three or four, whether united by the same walls, or facing each other at the two sides of a street. It may, perhaps, afford you a short relief to pick your way over the somewhat rugged pavement of a few of the Toledo streets, and take a survey of the exterior town, which our present destination requires us to traverse in its entire extent. I must inform you that, for the success of this enterprise, the stranger stands in absolute need of a pilot, without whose assistance his embarrassments would be endless.

Toledo scarcely boasts a street in which two vehicles could meet and continue their route. Most are impassable for a single cart; and, in more than one, I have found it impossible to carry an open umbrella. Such being the prevailing width of the streets, their tortuous direction causes a more serious inconvenience. He who has attempted the task of Theseus, in the mazes of some modern garden labyrinth, will comprehend the almost inevitable consequence of relying on his own wits for finding his way about Toledo,—namely, the discovery that he has returned to his point of departure at the moment he imagined that half the town separated him from it. This result is the more favoured by the similarity of the streets and houses. No such thing as a land-mark. All the convents are alike. You recollect at a particular turning, having observed a Moorish tower; consequently, at the end of the day, the sight of the Moorish tower leads you on, buoyed up by doubly elevated spirits, in the required direction, most anxious to bring the tiring excursion to a close: but this tower leads you to the opposite extremity of the city to that you seek, for there are half a dozen Moorish towers, all alike, or with but a trifling difference in their construction.

Nor is this obstacle to solitary exploration unaccompanied by another inconvenience. I allude to the continual ascents and descents. The surface of the mountain on which Toledo is built, appears to have been ploughed by a hundred earthquakes, so cut and hacked is it, to the exclusion of the smallest extent of level ground. To carry a railroad across it, would require an uninterrupted succession of alternate viaducts and tunnels. In consequence of this peculiarity, the losing one's way occasions much fatigue. To do justice to the inhabitants, an almost universal cleanliness pervades the town,—an excellence the attainment of which is not easy in a city so constructed, and which gives a favourable impression of the population. It is one of the towns in which is proved the possibility of carrying on a successful war against the vermin for which the Peninsula has acquired so bad a reputation, by means of cleanliness maintained in the houses.

In the house I inhabited on my arrival, I had suspected for some days an unusual neglect in the duties of the housemaid, to whose department it belonged to sweep the esteras or matting, which serve for carpets, from the circumstance of my having been visited by one or two unwelcome tormentors. I ventured a gentle remonstrance to the ama (landlady), stating my reasons for the suspicion I entertained. It happened that on the previous day I had mentioned my having been shown over the Archbishop's palace. This she had not forgotten; for with a superb coolness, scarcely to be met with out of Spain, she replied, "Fleas! oh, no! sir! we have none here,—you must have brought them with you from the Palace." Satisfied, however, with having maintained her dignity of landlady, she took care to have the nuisance removed.

This ama, as may be already judged, was a curiosity. In the first place, she was a dwarf. The Spaniards are not, generally speaking, a more diminutive race than the other inhabitants of Southern Europe: but when a Spaniard, especially a woman, takes it into her head to be small, they go beyond other nations. Nowhere are seen such prodigies of exiguity. The lady was, moreover, deformed, one of her legs describing a triangle, which compelled her in walking to imitate the sidelong progress of a crab. Possessed of these peculiarities she had attained, as spinster, that very uncertain age called by some "certain," but agreed by all to be nearer the end than the commencement of life.

Although not an exception, with regard to temper, to the generality of those whose fate it is to endure such a complication of ills, she nevertheless on frequent occasions gave way to much amiability, and especially to much volubility of discourse. She was not without a tinge of sentimentality; and when seated, fan in hand, and the mantilla puesta, on one of the chairs shorn of almost their entire legs, which were to be found in all parts of the house,—she made by no means a bad half-length representation of a fine lady.

She had apparently experienced some of the sorrows and disappointments incident to humanity; and on such occasions had frequently, no doubt, formed the resolution of increasing, although in a trifling degree, some religious sisterhood, of which establishments she had so plentiful a choice in her native city; but, whether on a nearer approach, she had considered the veil an unbecoming costume, or her resolution had failed her on the brink of the living tomb, the project had not as yet taken effect. The turn, however, thus given to her reflections and inquiries, had perfected in her a branch of knowledge highly useful to strangers who might be thrown in her way. She was a limping encyclopedia of the convents and monasteries of Toledo; and could announce each morning, with the precision of an almanack, the name of the saint of the day,—in what church or convent he was especially fêted, and at what hour the ceremony would take place. She was likewise au fait of the foundation, ancient and modern annals, and peculiarities of every sort which belong to every religious establishment of the many scores existing in Toledo. Her administration of the household affairs was admirably organized owing to her energetic activity. Her love of cleanliness would frequently induce her to take the sweeping department into her own hands—a circumstance which was sure to render the operation doubly successful, for the brooms, which in Toledo are not provided with handles or broomsticks, were exactly of a length suited to her stature. Before we take leave of her, here is one more of her original replies.

I complained to her at breakfast that the eggs were not as fresh as usual; and, suiting the action to the word, approached the egg-cup containing the opened one so near to her, that the organs of sight and smell could not but testify to the justice of my reclamation. Shrugging her shoulders, until they almost reached the level of the table—and with much contempt depicted on her countenance: "How could it be otherwise?" she exclaimed, "the egg was taken a quarter of an hour ago from under the hen; but you have broken it at the wrong end."

The monastery called San Juan de los Reyes, was founded by Ferdinand and Isabella, on their return from the conquest of Granada, and given to a fraternity of Franciscan friars. An inscription to this effect in gothic characters runs round the cloister walls, where it forms a sort of frieze, in a line with the capitals of the semi-columns. The inhabited part of the establishment is in a state of complete ruin, having been destroyed by the French during the Peninsular War. The cloisters are, likewise, in a semi-ruinous state: the part best preserved being the church; although that was not entirely spared, as may be supposed from its having been used as cavalry stables.

The choice of a situation for the erection of this convent was perfect in the then flourishing state of Toledo; and, even now, its picturesque position lends a charm to the melancholy and deserted remains still visible of its grandeur and beauty. It stands on the brow of the cliff, commanding the termination of the chasm already described as commencing at the bridge of Alcantara. It commands, therefore, the ruins of Roderick's palace, placed a few hundred yards further on, and on a lower level; still lower the picturesque bridge of St. Martin, striding to the opposite cliff, over arches of ninety feet elevation, and the lovely vega which stretches to the west.

CHURCH OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES.

This monastery was one of the most favoured amongst the numerous royal endowments of that period. It is said that its foundation was the result of a vow pronounced by Ferdinand and the Queen before the taking of Granada. In addition to the scale of magnificence adopted throughout the entire plan, the royal founders, on its completion, bestowed a highly venerated donation—the collection of chains taken from the limbs of the Christian captives, rescued by them from the dungeons of the Alhambra. They are suspended on the outside walls of the two sides of the north-eastern angle of the church, and are made to form a frieze, being placed in couples crossing each other at an acute angle; while those that remained are suspended vertically in rows by fours or fives, in the intervals of the pilastres.

The interior of the church is still sufficiently entire to give some idea of its original splendour. Its dimensions are rather more than two hundred feet in length, by eighty in width, and as many in height—excepting over the intersection of the nave and transept, where the ceiling rises to a hundred and eight feet. These dimensions are exclusive of three recesses on either side, forming chapels open to the nave, there being no lateral naves or aisles. The style of the whole is very ornamental; but the east end is adorned with an unusual profusion of sculpture. The transept is separated from the eastern extremity of the building, by a space no greater than would suffice for one of the arches; and its ends form the lines, which being prolonged, constitute the backs of the chapels. The royal arms, supported by spread eagles, are repeated five times on each end-wall; separated respectively by statues of saints in their niches, and surmounted by a profusion of rich tracery. These subjects entirely cover the walls to a height of about forty feet, at which elevation another inscription in honour of the founders runs round the whole interior. The transepts not being formed by open arches, the sides afford space for a repetition of the same ornament, until at their junction with the nave they are terminated by two half-piers covered with tracery, and surmounted by semi-octagonal balconies, beneath which the initials of Ferdinand and Isabella, made to assume a fancy shape, and surmounted by coronets, are introduced with singularly graceful effect.

But the chief attraction of this ruin is the cloister. A small quadrangle is surrounded by an ogival or pointed arcade, enriched with all the ornament that style is capable of receiving. It encloses a garden, which, seen through the airy-web of the surrounding tracery, must have produced in this sunny region a charming effect. At present, one side being in ruins and unroofed, its communication with the other three has been interrupted; and, whether or not in the idea of preserving the other sides from the infection, their arches have been closed nearly to the top by thin plaister walls. Whatever may have been the motive of this arrangement, it answers the useful purpose of concealing from the view a gallery which surmounts the cloister, the arches of which would neutralize the souvenirs created by the rest of the scene, since they announce a far different epoch of art, by the grievous backsliding of taste evinced in their angular form and uncouth proportions.

CLOISTER OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES, TOLEDO.

Until the destruction of the monastery by the French, the number of monks was very considerable; and in consequence of the unusual privileges accorded to their body, had become the objects of especial veneration. A curious proof of this still exists in the form of a printed paper, pasted on one of the doors in the interior of the church, and no doubt preserved carefully by the fifteen or sixteen brothers, who continued after the dispersion of the rest to inhabit the few apartments, which, by their situation over the cloister, had escaped the flames; and who were only finally compelled to evacuate their retreat on the occasion of the general convent crusade of the late revolution. It is an announcement of indulgences, of which the following is the opening paragraph:—

"Indulgence and days of pardon to be gained by kissing the robe of the brothers of San Francisco.

"All the faithful gain, for each time that they kiss the aforesaid holy robe with devotion of heart, two thousand and seventy-five days of Indulgence. Further than this, whosoever of the faithful shall kiss the aforesaid holy robe devoutly, gains each time eight thousand one hundred days of pardon. The which urges to the exercise of this devotion the Princes, Kings, Emperors, Bishops, and highest dignitaries of the Church, and the monks of other religious orders; and even those of the same order gain the same, according to the doctrine of Lantusca, who writes, 'Videant religiosi quantum thesaurum portent secum.' Since those who with hearts filled with lowliness and love, bend the knees to kiss the precious garment, which opens to so many souls the entrance to Heaven, leading them aside from the paths of perdition, with trembling and terror of the entire hosts of hell, are doubtless those who gain the above-mentioned Indulgences, &c."

Cardinal Ximenes had assumed the habit of this monastery before his nomination to the see of Toledo.

Among the numerous relics of the ancient prosperity of this ruinous corner of Toledo, are seen the walls of the palace of Don Juan Hurtado de Mendoza. To them were confided the secret murmurings of Charles the Fifth's vexation, when, elated with his Italian successes—lord of the greatest empire of Christendom, and flattered by the magnificent hospitality of the Genoese, he only resorted hither to be bearded by his Spanish vassals, and to hear his request for supplies unceremoniously refused. Although monarch of nearly half Europe, and, better still, of Mexico and Peru, that sovereign appears to have undergone the torments of a constantly defective exchequer.

His armies were not numerous for such an empire, and yet they were frequently in revolt for arrears of pay. Could at that time the inventor of a constitution on the modern principle have presented himself to Charles, with what treasures would he not have rewarded him? On his arrival in Spain, in the autumn of 1538, the emperor convoked the cortez in Toledo, "for the purpose of deliberation on the most grave and urgent causes, which obliged him to request of his faithful vassals an inconsiderable contribution, and of receiving the assurance of the desire with which he was animated, of diminishing their burdens as soon as circumstances should enable him to do so." All assembled on the appointed day—the prelates, the grandees, the knights, the deputies of cities and towns. The opening session took place in the great salon of the house of Don Juan Hurtado de Mendoza, Count of Melita, in which the emperor had taken up his abode; and two apartments in the convent of San Juan de los Reyes, were prepared for the remaining meetings—one for the ecclesiastical body, presided by the Cardinal de Tavera, archbishop of Toledo, accompanied by Fray Garcia de Loaysa, cardinal, and confessor of the emperor, afterwards Archbishop of Seville—the other for the lay members of the cortez.

Although an adept at dissimulation, what must have been the impatience of Charles, while under the necessity of listening, day after day, to reports of speeches pronounced by the independent members of his junta on the subject of his unwelcome proposition, without the consolation of foreseeing that the supplies would eventually be forthcoming. The orators did not spare him. The historian, Mariana, gives at full length the speech of the condestable Don Velasco, Duke of Frias, a grandee enjoying one of the highest dignities at the court, who commences by declaring that, "with respect to the Sisa," (tax on provisions, forming the principal subject of the emperor's demand,) "each of their lordships, being such persons as they were, would understand better than himself this business: but what he understood respecting it was, that nothing could be more contrary to God's service, and that of his Majesty, and to the good of these kingdoms of Castile, of which they were natives, and to their honour, than the Sisa;" and, further on, proposes that a request be made to his Majesty, that he would moderate his expenditure, which was greater than that of the Catholic kings.

On an address to this effect being presented to the emperor, he replied, that "he thanked them for their kind intentions; but that his request was for present aid, and not for advice respecting the future:" and finding, at length, that no Sisa was to be obtained, he ordered the archbishop to dissolve the junta, which he did in the following words:—"Gentlemen,—his Majesty says, that he convoked your lordships' assembly for the purpose of communicating to you his necessities, and those of these kingdoms, since it appeared to him that, as they were general, such also should be the remedy; but seeing all that has been done, it appears to him that there is no need of detaining your lordships, but that each of you may go to his house, or whither he may think proper."

It must be confessed that the grandees, who had on this occasion complained of Charles's foreign expeditions, and neglect of his Spanish dominions, did not pursue the system best calculated to reconcile him to a residence among them. Instead of taking advantage of the opportunities afforded by social intercourse, for making amends for the repulse he had suffered from the cortez, they appeared desirous of rendering the amount of humiliation which awaited him in Spain a counterpoise to his triumphs in his other dominions. On the close of the above-mentioned session, a tournament was celebrated in the vega of Toledo. On arriving at the lists, an alguacil of the court, whose duty it was to clear the way on the emperor's approach—seeing the Duke de l'Infantado in the way, requested him to move on, and on his refusal struck his horse with his staff. The duke drew his sword and cut open the officer's head. In the midst of the disturbance occasioned by the incident, the alcalde Ronquillo came up, and attempted to arrest the duke in the emperor's name—when the constable, Duke de Frias, who had just ridden to the scene of bustle, reining in his horse, exclaimed, "I, in virtue of my office, am chief minister of justice in these kingdoms, and the duke is, therefore, my prisoner;" and addressing himself to the alcalde: "know better another time, on what persons you may presume to exercise your authority." The duke left the ground in company of the last speaker, and was followed by all the nobles present, leaving the emperor entirely unaccompanied. It appears that no notice was taken by Charles of this insult; his manner towards the Duke of Infantado on the following day being marked by peculiar condescension, and all compensation to the wounded alguacil left to the duke's generosity.

The personal qualities of this prince, as a monarch, appear to have been overrated in some degree in his own day; but far more so by subsequent writers. The brilliancy of his reign, and the homage which surrounded his person were due to the immense extent of his dominions; and would never have belonged to him, any more than the states of which he was in possession, had their attainment depended in any degree on the exercise of his individual energies. When in the prime of youth, possessed of repeated opportunities of distinguishing himself at the head of his armies, he kept aloof, leaving the entire conduct of the war to his generals. His rival, Francis the First, wounded at Pavia in endeavouring to rally his flying troops, and at length taken prisoner while half crushed beneath his dead horse, was greater—as he stood before the hostile general, his tall figure covered with earth and blood—than the absent emperor, who was waiting at Valladolid for the news of the war.

Nor were the qualities of the statesman more conspicuous than those of the warrior on this occasion. Having received the intelligence of his victory, and of the capture of his illustrious prisoner, he took no measures—gave no orders. To his general every thing was left; and when the captive King was, at his own request, conveyed some time after to Spain, the astonished emperor had received no previous notice of his coming. He allowed himself to be out-manœuvred in the treaty for the liberation of his prisoner; and when Francis broke the pledge he had given for the restitution of Burgundy, he took no steps to enforce the execution of the stipulations; and he ultimately gave up the two French princes, who remained in his power as hostages, in return for a sum of money.

Far from maintaining the superiority in European councils due to his extensive dominions, the Italian republics were only prevented with the greatest difficulty, and by the continual presence of armies, from repeatedly declaring for France: and even the popes, to whom he paid continual court, manifested the small estimation in which they held his influence by constantly deserting his cause in favour of Francis,—the cause of the champion of Christianity in favour of the ally of the Infidel, and that frequently in defiance of good faith; shewing how little they feared the consequences of the imperial displeasure.

If these facts fail in affording testimony to his energy and capacity, still less does his character shine in consistency. He professed an unceasing ardour in the cause of Christianity; offering to the French king the renunciation of his rights, and a release from that monarch's obligations to him, on condition of his joining him in an expedition against the Infidels; but when he found himself at the head of an immense army under the walls of Vienna, he sat still and allowed Solyman to carry off at his leisure the spoils of the principal towns of Hungary.

When at length he made up his mind to take the field, he selected, as most worthy of the exercise of his prowess, the triumph over the pirate Barbarossa and his African hordes: the most important result of the campaign being the occupation of Tunis, (where in his zealous burnings for Christianity he installed a Mahometan sovereign,) and the wanton destruction by his soldiers of a splendid library of valuable manuscripts.

We have seen how little his Spanish subjects allowed themselves to be dazzled by the splendours of his vast authority, and history informs us how far he was from conceiving the resolution of reducing them to obedience by any measures savouring of energetic demonstration. The irreverence to his person he calmly pocketed, and the deficiences in his exchequer were supplied by means of redoubled pressure on his less refractory Flemings. He submitted to the breach of faith of Francis of France, and to the disrespect of his Castilian vassals; but, on the burghers of the city of Ghent being heard to give utterance to expressions of discontent at the immoderate liberties taken with their purse-strings, he quits Madrid in a towering rage, crosses France at the risk of his liberty, and enters his helpless burg at the head of a German army, darting on all sides frowns of imperial wrath, each prophetic of a bloody execution.