Iberian
Simon Courtauld
A Stranger in Spain H.V. Morton (Methuen £5.95) Driving north last month from Andalusia to Estremadura, I stopped for the night in Zafra at the Parador de Hernan Cortes. It is so called because the great conquistador stayed there for a while before he went off to conquer Mexico. His host, and mentor, was the Duke of Feria, who built an Italianate palazzo within the mediaeval castle walls. This information 1.s provided for visitors to the parador; but it was not until I opened A Stranger in Spain that I learned that the next Duke was Spanish ambassador in London when Elizabeth became Queen and that his Duchess was born Jane Dormer. She was a great friend of Mary Tudor (the second wife of Philip II), and lived on at the castle for many years after her husband's death. It is facts such as these which make H.V.; Morton's book, first published in 1955 and
now reissued in paperback, such a i delightful companion for the traveller n Spain, whether or not a stranger to the country. Wherever Mr Morton goes -- often concerned lest his car may break down on the rough mountain roads, ex- asperated that he has to wait to dine until the hour when he would normally retire to
bed — he is able to recall an inciden. t ifl wishes
Spanish history. 'The stranger who
to approach Spain with sympathy and ap preciation,' Mr Morton writes, 'must do so, through its history.' How right he is, aael how often that history is linked with ours.: Catherine of Aragon and Drake and Well ington and Moore we know about; but In these pages we also learn — or, at least, I learn — of the associations with Spain of John of Gaunt, the Black Prince, Titus Oates, and Charles I. As Prince of Wales, Charles travelled to Madrid in 1623 with the Duke of Buckingham, both in disguise, in order to woo the Infanta. He did not get the girl, but instead returned to England with a Correggio, a Titian, an elephant and five camels. One of Charles's companions in this adventure was Endymion Porter, a relative of the Figueroa family, who rebuilt the castle at Zafra after the Moors had left.
When the Earl of Buckinghamshire died the other day, it was reported in the Spanish press as the death of `the Duke of Buck- ingham'; it would be nice to think that the error occurred because of someone's memory of the duke who turned up in Madrid with the Prince of Wales 360 years ago. Such connections between the two countries are well remembered, at a time of strained relations over Gibraltar. And they Persist still, in odd ways: on the day, last month, when the Spanish government was protesting at the arrival of the British ar- mada in Gibraltar, the Grand National was being shown live on Spanish television. (The Oxford-Cambridge boat race is also televised in Spain every year.) One wonders what H.V. Morton would have made of Spain today. In his book he seldom refers to the Civil War or to the (then) government of Franco, but one gets the impression that, while not supporting the regime, Mr Morton nevertheless ad- mires the values of an authoritarian dic- tatorship backed by the Catholic Church. It is impossible to ignore the superficial Changes in Spanish life of the past eight Years; and I was glad that Mr Morton was not in Guernica last week to see, on the door of the church of Santa Maria (un- touched by the bombs of the Condor Legion in 1937), a notice announcing that the film being shown at the local cinema, render Cousins, was erotica. A few miles away, however, in Durango (the first defenceless town to be bombed by the Ger- mans), a graffito on the church wall refers 'El A borto' (abortion) as 'El Holocaust° del Siglo XX'. Thirty years on, there is no doubt that Mr Morton's perception of Spain. is still generally valid today. For his Spain is not th.e. costa country of the east and south, that he wisely avoids — though it is a pity teliat he never visited Aragon or Murcia or, except for a trip by air to Barcelona, interior Mr Morton's journey is to the , to the capital cities of the old 8ngdmns, to the heart of Spain. It is .Inarkable how well he has observed and absorbed the character of the Spanish peo- pb ,1ee. And yet, following Mr Morton's exam- rls. it is not so hard, as a traveller, to share thatPereeption and appreciation, provided • You are not in a hurry and that, in the .hwns and villages, you do plenty of walk- ing and looking and listening.
s There
Pent k is a delightful story of the night -Y Mr Morton in the monastery at Guadalupe. It is the middle of June and he longs to go out and attend the pagan fiesta of Midsummer's Eve in the village. But the monastery doors are locked for the night, and Mr Morton cannot bring himself to ask permission of the padre to go to such a festival. So he sits by his bedroom window, in the moonlight, listening to the barking of dogs and the distant music of pipes and drums. Mr Morton also has a sensitive ear to the beauty of the language, musing on the pleasure of owning a grocer's shop (ultramarinos) in Madrigal de las Altas Tor- res. It is a language of greater depth, of so much more emociOn, than Italian.
If only Mr Morton had returned to write more books on Spain, he would have been a worthy successor to Ford and Borrow. (He died only four years ago, within a few weeks of the death of his unrelated namesake, J.B. `Beachcomber' Morton, with whom he had worked at the Daily Ex- press in the Twenties.) H.V. could have written a fascinating book on a train journey through Spain, which has probably the most extensive, and certainly the slowest, railway service in Europe. It is, for instance, possible to go by train, without changing, from Seville to Gijon on the north coast; between Bilbao and Santander (a distance of 65 miles) there are 29 stations.
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