#condestables

[kaelula-sungwis]

CATEDRAL DE BURGOS - España by Javier Gallego Via Flickr: Cúpula de la Capilla de los Condestables, una catedral dentro de otra catedral. Al fondo de la nave principal de la Catedral de Burgos e injertada en el templo se construye esta capilla a finales del siglo XV. Lleva el nombre de los benefactores y de quienes la mandaron construir, don Pedro Fernández de Velasco y su esposa doña Mencía de Mendoza, Condestables de Castilla. Es obra de Simón de Colonia, hijo de Juan de Colonia, que la termina en 1496 y de su hijo Francisco de Colonia, que también puso su firma en la construcción de la sacristía en 1517. Esta capilla tiene planta hexagonal en su base y octogonal en la parte alta, sobre la que se construye una deslumbrante bóveda calada y acristalada en forma de estrella. Toda ella es de filigrana gótica multiplicando el prodigio de la propia estancia. El autor de esta bóveda de estrella, Simón de Colonia, creó esta fábula de piedra calada –expresión suma del gótico flamígero – entre los años 1482 y 1496. Dome of the Chapel of the Constables, a cathedral within another cathedral. At the bottom of the main nave of Burgos Cathedral and grafted onto the temple, this chapel was built at the end of the 15th century. It bears the name of its benefactors and of those who ordered it to be built, Mr. Pedro Fernández de Velasco and his wife Mrs. Mencía de Mendoza, Constables of Castilla. It is the work of Simón de Colonia, son of Juan de Colonia, who finished it in 1496 and his son Francisco de Colonia, who also put his signature on the construction of the sacristy in 1517. This chapel has a hexagonal floor plan at its base and an octagonal one at the top, on which a dazzling star-shaped openwork and glazed vault is built. All of it is of Gothic filigree multiplying the prodigy of the room itself. The author of this star vault, Simón de Colonia, created this openwork stone fable – the highest expression of flaming Gothic – between 1482 and 1496.

[truhanthings]

[tietarteve]

Siempre Tunos en Arenas de San Pedro

Actuación de "Siempre Tunos" el viernes 19 de julio de 2024 desde las 22:00h en el Castillo del Condestable Dávalos de #ArenasDeSanPedro.

Actuación de “Siempre Tunos” el viernes 19 de julio de 2024 desde las 22:00h en el Castillo del Condestable Dávalos de Arenas de San Pedro.

[marianadecarlos]

The Birth of Philip Prospero Fanart

Philip Prospero was born on November 28, 1657, in the Royal Alcazar of Madrid. He was the first son of Philip IV of Spain and Mariana of Austria. His birth brought joy to the kingdom, but his delivery caused his mother to have childbed fever, which most did not notice because of their joy. Queen Mariana was bedridden for days after the birth and she survived.

On the day of the birth, not a bench nor a table was left unbroken in the palace, nor a single pastry-cook’s nor tavern that was not sacked. Tomorrow [December 6] they say that his Majesty will go on horseback to the Atocha to give thanks to the Mother of God… They say the prince is a pretty little chap, and that the King wishes him to be baptized at once, before the extreme cold comes on… There are to be masquerades, bull-fights and cane-tourneys as soon as the Queen stands up to see them, as well as plays with machinery invented by an engineer, a servant of the Nuncio, to be represented at the theatre of Retiro, and the saloon of the palace… The municipality, following the lead of the Councils, have gone to congratulate the King… and no gentleman, great or small, has failed to do the like.

His baptism was described to have some mishaps, starting with the Ceremonial Napkin carried by Condestable de Castilla, an unpopular military officer, He made a scene at Prospero's baptism in the following matter:

It seems that the crush of the people was so great that a staircase gave way; this disarranged the procession as it left the chapel, and in particular prevented the Duque de Bejar from taking his place and bearing away the "mazapan". The "mazapan" was not a sweet meat, but a lump of breadcrumb on which the officiating ecclesiastic wiped his fingers after anointing the child with holy oil. The bread was enclosed in a highly decorated reptacle made of marzipan and carried on a richly worked piece of needlework. It seems to be a object which evoked singular curiosity through little relevance. As the Duque de Bejar was unable to be its barrier, Philip was asked what should be done, he was told master of ceremonies to ask the Condestable De Castilla to substitute, This gentleman replied that he was sorry but he had an injured arm. Philip IV, furious, repeated his order, whereupon he replied, "The Condestable De Castilla are too exalted to fill the gaps and voids left by others. The Duque de Alburquerque carried the ewer, the Duque of Terranova, the salt sellar. Last came the Duque of Pastrana carrying on this occasion the famous mazapan. It was made in the shape of a castle with gold and silver ornamentation. The chrism is a mixture of oil and balm used to anoint the infant. Owing to its Sacrosanct Character, It was those days covered much coveted by ill-intentioned persons; hence the drops of chrism deposited on the bread crumb with the Mazapan might be stolen. The infant was naked at this baptism, At the baptism, the infant was unclothed, prompting the Infanta Maria Theresa to ask why she had to present her brother in this manner. It was explained that this tradition was a way to demonstrate his gender.

Source:

Carlos, A king who would not die by John Langdon Davis

[deseopolis]

Restauración del Palacio del Condestable. Pamplona, España. 2002-2008. Tabuenca-Leache.

[happyk44]

"I think I'm in love with you."

Annabeth paused for a breath. Then immediately started laughing - a high pitched shriek of a laugh that had Nico startling in his seat across from her. His eyes went wide, then narrowed.

"It's not funny," he grit out when her laughter died down to subtle giggles.

She covered her face with both hands. "No," she breathed. She pulled her hands back to her cheeks. "No, I know. I'm sorry, it's just-" She gestured loosely with one hand. "You know - before, everyone thought..."

Everyone thought he was attracted to her. That he wanted her, not Percy. She heard the musings after that first war, when her and Percy's relationship was new. Nico wasn't avoidant or mean to Percy, not at that point. But he was definitely warmer to her when Percy wasn't around. And seemed a little disgruntled, bothered, when Percy would pop up and sling his arm around her.

Everyone thought it was because he had a crush on her. Not the other way around.

And now...

She leaned back and shook her head. "Why do you think-"

"It's the same," he cuts in. She arches an eyebrow. He glares at the table. "Like with Percy. Before. I... You..."

She let him breathe. Find his words.

Nico usually spoke clear, deliberate. He wasn't ever really without words. If he didn't have anything to say, he wouldn't speak. If he did, he got his point across as cleanly as possible. The few times he did trip up, people tried to help him through it and it only sought to agitate him. Though he tried not to show it, feigning politeness.

Hazel, Jason and Percy were the few people who didn't try to figure out what he was getting at before he could.

Sometimes she wondered if he practiced his words in his head in advance. Or if it was just situations like these, sudden, emotional, that caught him off guard no matter how much he recited. Either way she understood - he knew what he wanted to say. He just couldn't get it out.

When she was younger, she felt like that a lot too. Especially in the early days of living with her dad and step-mom. When everything she said always went wrong and people got mad. Eventually the words got stuck. Especially the more frustrated or upset she was.

It was hard work to come across as someone smart and capable, logical and driven - not some silly emotional girl who had nightmares of spiders biting at her in the night and an evil step-mom who got angry when she cried and mocked her for stumbling over her words.

She wouldn't push Nico to explain himself. They could spend all night in this cafe if he needed to find himself.

"Thank you," she said quietly as the waitress dropped off her iced coffee and Nico's piping hot espresso. Nico mumbled a similar remark. His eyes remained trained on the table. She watched the waitress walk off then breathed shallowly. "She's pretty."

"It's not-" Nico closed his eyes. "I don't find other girls attractive, Annabeth. It's just you."

She sipped at her drink. Sweet caramel - too sweet. Percy always kissed her after she took her first sip. He didn't like overly sweet things, but he always joked that he liked them on her.

"I-" Nico's elbows dropped onto the table. His head hung in his hands. His shoulders rose up to his ears and didn't drop. "It's weird." His voice was but a whisper. "I don't understand it."

The ice clinked in her glass. Condestation dewed against her palms. She chewed her lip. "You know, aesthetic attraction-"

"It's not-" He exhaled shakily. Then slowly slid up and back.

His eyes were somber, sullen. Sad. It made her want to reach out and stroke his head like a frightened kitten, soothe him into her arms and assure him that all was okay. Take him home, clean him up, and make him warm.

"I want you. And it's terrifying."

An alarm blared at the back of her head. A visceral reminder - hubris. Don't be prideful about this.

Still she couldn't help but lean closer and whisper, "How do you want me?"

There was something intoxicating about the way his eyes seemed to darken as he stared at her. They were already obsidian black, but now they'd graduated to a heated void. That he couldn't care about any other woman in the world but her. Gay as the day was long, and she was the night that broke him.

She needed to know. It was as imperative to her life as it was dangerous to her ego.

He was silent. All noise ceased to exist around them as they stared at her each other. Then he leaned forward, his breath cold as it puffed across her face.

"I want you naked. I want to touch every bit of your skin. I want to eat you out until you're soaked down my chin." Heat slid from his lips and burned across her skin. "I want to feel what it's like when you come on my fingers. I want to know what you feel like on my dick." His voice cracked. "And I want to know what it feels like to kiss you. To wake up beside you, to hold you, to have-"

He pulled to a harsh stop. Words still lingered on his tongue, in the back of his throat, she could feel it.

And it made her nearly delirious with a heady sense of power.

"Lots of people have those feelings," she said. "It's normal, nothing to be scared of, Nico. You're not the type of person to force your emotions on everyone else."

At least not willing, she thought. The nightmare episode just a few days after the second war - Nico fallen asleep in the sun and grass, Hazel and Frank beside him. A few kids playing nearby. One of them tripped over him in their haste to grab a ball that had gone over their head.

It had only lasted a few seconds. Just moments between Nico being startled awake and realizing he was safe, but the things he expressed left everyone feeling nauseous and on edge for days. It was so vague - no real memory or sensation behind it. But the power, the strength, the misery...

He dragged a hand through his shaggy curls. Then sighed. His bag - a black messenger with a lavender logo embroidered on the front - plonked onto the table. He opened it up and tilted it towards her.

It was organized for a messenger bag. A notebook in on pocket, some pencils, a granola bar, a baggie of ambrosia squares, his wallet. She frowned, leaning in closer. Then swallowed dry when she noticed a set of vials in a small boxed container in the center of the bag,

Dark blood-red liquid swirled inside each one. She could almost taste the bitter tang on her tongue.

She liked the taste of pomegranate. She didn't care much for the whole chewing spitting thing, and didn't like to swallow the raw pulpy seeds. But she did like drinking it.

The first time she'd tried it, she'd been eight, holding her goblet and wondering how sweet it must've been to be worth burying yourself for six months with the man that stole you. The sour earthy taste caught her by surprise. This, she had wondered, is what Persephone was so willing to consume in her hunger?

It didn't really make sense at the time. The story she'd been told made it clear that Persephone had caved to her self-imposed hunger. Surely there were other things to eat - if she was starving, why would she choose this one? Why would she choose this acrid difficult thing to seal her fate?

If Annabeth was going to cave to her starvation and eat something that would imprison her some place for half the year, she'd go with a lamb dinner. Not a sour fruit that made her gag when it first crossed her tongue.

Later on she considered the story again. Persephone was a goddess eternal. Eating was not a necessity, it was a pleasure. Why would she eat if she didn't have to and she knew better? She must've been tricked then. But tricked into eating a pomegranate of all things? Was that even something that could happen? Did she not know how it tasted? Did she think it was sweet?

Or did she know it was acidic? Did she slice the fruit in half and scoop out its seeds, feeling the sticky red juice trail down her thumb and know she was going to bite into something that would make most people gag and frown?

Did she choose her descent? Her, the goddess of nature, biting into a bitterness she always longed for?

Annabeth had poured into books on nature after that - she had been maybe 10 or 11. She wanted to know what it was that would captivate a goddess of spring to go below. Agriculture and grain were her mother's ideals, but nature and simple vegetation - those were all her own choices.

So what was the difference?

And in the dead of the forest, in the middle of capture the flag, she found her answer. It was a lush patch of grass. It didn't fit the usual nymph spots. Not to mention the nymphs tended to live around the edges of where the games would play. Neither they nor the satyrs enjoyed having bothersome demigods running back and forth across their homes, carrying swords and arrows and loudly swearing captured "enemies".

Naturally she approached. This area of was typically overrun. The grass was mostly downtrodden, but here in this little patch it was standing tall. Curiousity got the best of her, as it always did, so she dug it up. Maybe one of the Demeter kids had planted a trap there.

But no. It was just the decaying body of a fallen bird. Being consumed by the earth it landed on.

It hit her hard then. How life worked before people, before farming. Animals died and the earth ate them. Then produced the very things that those animals needed. So they came back and ate and died and ate and died. Each time they'd fall and take their last breaths. The bugs would come and pull them apart. The grass would spread across their bones. The plants would flourish from the nutrients left behind.

Wasn't that the point of manure and tilling the soil? To renew what had been taken away? That didn't happen in the wild. So it had to be cultivate by nature.

By death.

And in that moment, she understood why the goddess of nature would allow herself to bite into the bitterness of the fruit of the dead, and why the king of the underworld would be so taken with her at first sight, he just had to steal her away.

She stared at the vials. Then up to Nico's utterly distressed face.

He would never do that to her, to anyone. She knew that. He'd rather die than bound someone to him without a reason to force his hand.

But he wanted to. He wanted to bind them together, pierce her soul to his beckoning, make her obey him while she was living, as if she were dead.

She wondered if he'd ever wanted to do that with Percy.

"You know," she said slowly, "I wouldn't technically belong to you if you dosed me those."

He snorted and closed the bag. "I grew them myself." He was quiet as he tucked the bag into his lap, and folded his arms across it, gripping it tight like he was afraid if he didn't, the vials would jump out and fall down her throat. "So you would."

"Ah."

"I didn't..." He closed his eyes. "I thought about it once. With Percy. But I never got close because he was with you and I couldn't... I couldn't take him from you. Not like that. It wouldn't be fair. But now..."

When he didn't finish his trail of thought, looking off to the side instead, she crossed her arms over the table and gently prompted, "But now?"

His smile was sad, a little quirked thing she never liked seeing on his face. "I still want him, Annabeth," he said. He tilted his face ever so slightly towards her. "I always have. I probably always will. And now I want you. So there's nothing to stop me from taking you both, except my own morals."

"Morals are good."

He caught her eyes. "They're breaking."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Oh."

"That's why I wanted to tell you," he stressed, "in public. Where someone would notice if I..." He glanced down at her forgotten iced coffee. "If I did something to your drink."

"Okay, well." She bit her lip. "We just won't accept any drinks from you."

"No."

She frowned. She did not like that word when it came from someone else. "No?"

"No," he repeated. "I'm not risking it. I just wanted to tell you so I could explain why I won't be coming around anymore." She stiffened. "If you could tell him - Percy." His Adam's apple bobbed. "I didn't want him here for it because I didn't want to make him-" His face pinched inwards. "-mad at me."

Never, she thought. Percy's anger could stick around like the shattered remnants of life after a storm, but not with Nico. In the moment, distress and anger, but it would quickly fall away with the misery on Nico's face.

"My father never kidnapped my step-mom," he said. "People think she was stolen or that she sauntered down of her own free will, but truth be told, they just met." He sighed, frustrated and fisted the canvas of his bag. "He brought her home because he loved her and she followed him because she loved him. She doesn't even have to stay below if she doesn't want to."

"And you think you'd keep us prisoner?" She laughed. "Nico, you would never do that."

His eyes glistened. "My father told her not to eat it. He knows who he is, but having power over another person that way... it's always a risk." A wispy breath and he leaned back. "I know I wouldn't. I can't even fathom it, but if something happened and I changed..." He shook his head. "Why risk it?"

He stood up sharply before she could say anything else. A handful of bills fell on the table in a neat little pile. The price of their drinks, plus tip.

"Bye Annabeth."

She jerked backwards. Her chairs skidded against the tile, loud, as she hopped to her feet. "Wait!" she called out, but he was already gone. She held still for a second, thinking maybe he heard her, maybe he'd come back.

But he didn't.

Deflated she slowly withdrew back to her seat, pulling up forward to the table. Her drink - too sweet caramel - sat in front of her. Nico's espresso in a dainty white teacup sat further across, completely untouched. She wondered if he would chase the sweetness off her tongue like Percy did. She wondered if she would chase the bitterness off his tongue, like Persephone biting into the seeds. Would Percy?

If he had given them the choice to fall below, in the depths of darkness and dirt, would they have taken it as willing as nature took to the dead?

[docpiplup]

A century of the Order of thuggish and drunken knights: Lorca, Dalí and Buñuel partying in Toledo

Federico García Lorca was wrapped in a sheet stolen from the Posada de la Sangre – which disappeared in the Civil War and was the scene of Miguel de Cervantes's The Illustrious Mop –, drunk as a thief and with the desire to wander alone through the narrow streets of the old town of Toledo. Around him, some young hooligans laughed with the poet with noise and hubbub. This is how a Toledo man named Eduardo met the playwright from Granada during a Toledo night in the 1920s. At that moment, this kind man, seeing the panorama, tried to take Lorca to the relief house on Barco Street, but He flatly refused to accompany him. The poor man, of course, did not understand anything.

What this Toledoan, grandfather of the author of the space Toledo Olvidado, who is the one who told this anecdote, did not know is that Lorca was complying with one of the strict rules of the well-known Order of Toledo, a brotherhood of artists and writers related to the Generation of '27 and the Madrid Student Residence created by Luis Buñuel – calling himself Condestable – in the Venta de Aires de Toledo restaurant in March 1923.

This is how a century ago the streets of Toledo could not believe what was happening on its cobblestones. One hundred years since Buñuel, with his idea, managed to revolutionize the students of the Residence and the silent alleys of the old town of Toledo. Despite such famous components, the truth is that little or very little is known about this Order of Toledo. There is not much documentation available, beyond the stories of the protagonists themselves. Buñuel, the architect of this mischievous and intellectual action, dedicates an entire chapter to the Order in My Last Sigh, his autobiography written in his exile in Mexico.

A religious revelation and the smell of wine

«I am walking through the cloister of the cathedral, completely drunk, when, suddenly, I hear thousands of birds singing and something tells me that I must immediately enter the Carmelites, not to become a friar, but to steal the convent's treasury. The doorman opens the door for me and a friar comes. I tell him about my sudden and fervent desire to become a Carmelite. He, who has undoubtedly noticed the smell of wine, walks me to the door. The next day I made the decision to found the Order of Toledo," explains Buñuel in the aforementioned autobiography.

The rules of the Order of Toledo are strict and taken very seriously by its members. So much so that some of them even had a little problem or another in 1936, as the poet José Moreno Villa told us from Mexico, after the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War. "This order is a bit communist," thought some "men alien to letters and much more alien to irony"; although the truth is that there was only a hint of provocation in this crazy association. A normal thing among extravagant artists, somewhat dadaist, somewhat surrealist. «The starting point was to have fun, have a good time and get drunk. But it is true that, personally, I have always related what these young people did in Toledo with the historical avant-garde of the moment. I see it as the performances that the Dadaists did in Paris and Zurich, which were things that didn't make much sense, as Surrealism later adopted. In fact, it is worth noting that some members of this Order of Toledo were part of the Paris surrealist group, like Buñuel or Dalí himself,” explains Juan Carlos Pantoja, author of The Order of Toledo: imaginary avant-garde walks*.

Pantoja also details that, possibly, there were some precedents to Buñuel's Order of Toledo because "there was already a group of great intellectuals, among whom were Américo Castro, Alfonso Reyes, Antonio García Solalinde or Moreno Villa, who met in Toledo to walk at night and drink wine from 1917 onwards. He details that "they stayed in a rented house on Cárcel del Vicario street, in front of the Cathedral, and they became known as the gathering of El Ventanillo, due to the existence of a small window with views of the Valley. Buñuel says that he got to know Toledo accompanying Solalinde, so we can think that perhaps the Aragonese was at some point in these gatherings and that, from there, the idea of ​​doing something similar arose. Pepín Bello – who left no work, but was a friend to everyone, as gallery owner Guillermo de Osma once commented –, Rafael Alberti, Dalí, María Teresa León and Federico García Lorca and his brother, among others, were part of the Brotherhood created by way improvised by Buñuel that had something of a "poetic act", according to the poet from Cádiz. And the students of the Residence were lovers of Toledo, according to Bello in an interview in 2000:« We took the train from Madrid to Toledo, we traveled in third class and it took us two hours to arrive. We went up from the station and went to drink in the taverns of Zocodover, which was very close to the Posada de la Sangre, to get into the mood a little »

Order of Toledo: drink wine and do not shower

Courtyard of the Blood Inn

Among the rules of the Order of Toledo, and which Buñuel said with his Calanda crudeness, was that of not washing or showering "while the visit in this Holy City lasted." They had to go to Toledo once a year, watch over Cardinal Tavera's tomb, love Toledo above all and, of course, "wander, especially at night, through the wonderful and magical city of the Tagus," according to Alberti. "Those who preferred to go to bed early could not qualify for the rank of knight, little more than the title of squire," explains Buñuel in his autobiography. Furthermore, Pantoja details, "each of the members had to contribute ten pesetas to the common fund for accommodation and food and to go to Toledo as frequently as possible and put themselves in a position to live the most unforgettable experiences." Bello points out, recalling Toledo's adventures in an interview, that "we stayed at the Posada de la Sangre because we were students and it was difficult for us to sleep for just one peseta. Of course, it was a place of dubious cleanliness, where mainly muleteers stopped with their animals. The poet María Teresa León, in her book Memory of Melancholy, also remembered that this inn “had little rooms with just one bed. There, Rafael [Alberti], that night we didn't talk about El Greco, but we did talk about bedbugs. Toledo bedbugs! Toledoan night! I turned on the light. How well Rafael slept with his chest crossed by hundreds of little animals frantically searching for the hiding place of poetry!

Alberti precisely explains in The Lost Grove that "the brothers left the inn when the cathedral clock struck one, a time when all of Toledo seems to narrow, become even more complicated in its ghostly and silent labyrinth" and also relates in detail how He experienced firsthand his initiation into the Order of Toledo, with some fear at not knowing anything about the labyrinthine streets of Toledo.

«We went out into the street, carrying all the brothers, except me, hidden under the jacket, the sleeping sheets, taken out quietly. The poetic act was going to consist of bringing to life an entire theory of ghosts in the atrium and plaza of Santo Domingo el Real. After weaving and unweaving steps between the deep crevices of sleeping Toledo, we ended up at the convent at a moment when its defended windows lit up, filling them with veiled songs and monkish prayers. While the monotonous prayers went on, the brothers, who had left me alone at one end of the square, covered themselves with the sheets, seeming slow and distanced, white and real ghosts from another time. The suggestion and fear that I began to feel were increasing, when suddenly, the dressed visions appeared, shouting at me: 'This way, this way!', sinking into the narrow alleys, leaving me - one of the worst tests I have ever faced. the novices were subjected – abandoned, alone, lost in that frightening winding of Toledo, without knowing where I was and without the possibility of someone showing me the way to the inn, in addition to not finding a single passerby at that point in the night, in Toledo, if they don't inform someone every 30 meters, you can consider yourself lost definitively. At dawn I found the Posada de la Sangre, and I went to sleep, happy with my first adventure as an initiate into the mysteries of the Toledo order,” Alberti recalled years later. Food and comedy at Venta de Aires

Members of the Order of Toledo, at the Venta de Aires

In Toledo, the members of this order ate, explains Buñuel, "almost always in taverns, such as Venta de Aires, on the outskirts, where we always ordered tortilla on horseback - with pork -, a partridge and white wine from Yepes." . There, in this sale, the friends performed for the first time Don Juan Tenorio, by José Zorrilla, dressed in improvised costumes, where we see that Buñuel is dressed as a parish priest, an irreverence with respect to the church and the double standards of its members that We will always see them reflected in their films. «With regard to this, this relationship between artists and religion, Max Aub told the anecdote that while walking through Toledo they found a Virgin in a niche on the street, it could be the one still located on Alfileritos Street, although it is not documented, that Dalí began to pray in a devout and tender manner, but suddenly began spitting at her angrily and insulting her. He went from one thing to another in an incomprehensible way, once again showing off his surrealist thinking," explains Pantoja.

Alberti says that also on the walls of the Venta de Aires, the brothers of the Order had left the mark of their art. «Under the arbor, the patio of our banquet, the main brothers were portrayed in pencil on the whitewash of the wall. Its author, Salvador Dalí, was also among them. Someone told the innkeepers not to whitewash them, that they were worthy works by a famous painter and that they were worth a lot of money. Despite the warning, years later they no longer existed. They had been erased by new owners of the sale," explains the poet. After eating, they returned to Zocodover, always on foot, making "an obligatory stop at the tomb of Cardinal Tavera, sculpted by Berruguete. A few minutes of contemplation in front of the recumbent statue of the cardinal, dead of alabaster, with pale and sunken cheeks, captured by the sculptor one or two hours before the putrefaction began," adds the filmmaker.

Fisticuffs with the cadets of the Military Academy

Upon returning to the old town, the Order even experienced some fights with the cadets of the Toledo Military Infantry Academy, after some of them rudely complimented María Teresa León, an anecdote that she herself tells. «At I don't know what time, just when we were visiting some taverns to balance with so much church, we came face to face with a group of uniformed boys, who turned to me and said: 'Blonde, I would eat you with suit and with everything'. Buñuel rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and when he saw him advance, the boys ran out so as not to commit themselves to Aragon, a region where the insults are harsher. They caught up with them and, after several punches, the cadets were defeated. A neighbor handed us a jug: 'Drink, drink. These cadets always making a fuss!' Meanwhile, she licked her lips with pleasure because the civilians had beaten the military, those boys are always on the hunt for Toledoan girls," León said.

Rafael Alberti and María Teresa León, poets of the Generation of '27 and members of the Order of Toledo

A confrontation with the military that Buñuel also remembers, although in a somewhat less refined way than the poet. The film director explains in his memoirs. «The cadets were really scary. One day we came across two of them and grabbing María Teresa, Alberti's wife, by the arm, they told her: 'How horny you are.' She protests, offended, I go to her defense and knock down the cadets with my fists. Pierre Unik comes to my aid and kicks one of them. There were seven of us and the two of them, we did not boast. We leave and two civil guards who had seen the fight from afar approach, instead of reprimanding us, they advise us to leave Toledo as soon as possible, to avoid the revenge of the cadets. We don't pay attention to them, and for once, nothing happens».

The Order of Toledo in Tristana

This entire Order of Toledo is reflected in Tristana, the film that Buñuel would shoot here in Toledo. Pantoja defends that "he winked at his youthful adventures, with Catherine Deneuve wandering the streets and visiting Cardinal Tavera, and bringing his face closer to him, which is one of the great images of the film." «That Order of Toledo laughed at everything, nothing was taken too seriously. They laughed at art, like the futurists did, who advocated burning museums and libraries, and they did everything, in addition, in a groundbreaking way. Their lives, without a doubt, were pure avant-garde," concludes Pantoja.

* I have scans of this book, I am planning to publish them here on Tumblr on a series of posts

[j-biedma-de-ubeda]

Manuel Muro García nació en Cazorla  el 12 de noviembre de 1867, pero fijó su residencia en Úbeda en la que casó con María Barrios Cuadra, ciudad de la que fue cronista sustituyendo al presbítero Francisco Moya Ramírez en 1921. 

Muro había cursado Derecho y Filosofía y Letras en Granada: diputado, juez, caballero, académico, técnico de Hacienda, concejal..., fue ante todo -dice Miguel Salas- literato. Falleció en julio de 1929. Luis Bello escribía en la revista nacional La Esfera su necrológica: “Úbeda está de luto; las letras está de duelo”.

Alfredo Cazabán definía su prosa como robusta y sólida y de su pluma escribió que fundía horquillas de luz en el recinto jaenero. No cabe duda de que supo robar secretos a las piedras con musgo, a las calles en penumbra, a las murallas profanadas y los arcos góticos de la capital de la Loma y joya del Renacimiento... 

De Cazorla, su ciudad natal, dice en su novela Pasión Serrana (1902):

“Tierra que muestra a los ojos del artista y del poeta sus más deliciosos encantos, los encantos purísimos de una vegetación indómita y bravía, de una flora espléndida que exhala un perfume delicioso de naturaleza virgen”

Tal vez estaba describiendo la Nava de los Torcales, donde transcurre parte de la acción de su novela corta.

Miguel Salas lamenta con razón que de la producción literaria de Muro se haya salvado tan poco. Su sobrino Tomás ha reunido lo que ha podido, por ejemplo la semblanza del polígrafo Manuel Muñoz Garnica, historiador (Discurso Semblanza de 1922) y el ensayo biográfico sobre la figura de El Condestable don Ruy López de Dávalos (1922).

Fuente: Miguel Salas Caballero, “Semblanza de don Manuel Muro García”, IBIUT, AÑO X, nº 51, pg. 4s. https://www.vbeda.com/Ibiut/v/centrale.php?es=00000860&b=264

[ancruzans-blog]

El condestable de Lesdiguières, de Gédéon Tallemant des Réaux

Nacido en La Rochelle, Francia, Gédeón se graduó en Derecho Civil y Canónico en París, consiguiendo un puesto como consejero del parlamento, trabajo que abandonó para dedicarse a la literatura. En 1646 contrajo matrimonio con su prima Elisabeth de Rambouillet, entrando así en la elegante sociedad del Hotel de Rambouillet y conociendo a muchas figuras literarias cuyas vidas se describen en su…

[jgmail]

El equilibrio del poder geopolítico en diferentes momentos cronológicos. Parte 6

Por Maxim Medovarov

Traducción de Juan Gabriel Caro Rivera

Trazado geopolítico hace 500 años

Hace quinientos años, en 1524, el mundo volvió a experimentar los mismos acontecimientos geopolíticas que hemos descrito en las anteriores entregas, mientras que otros nuevos comenzaron a gestarse. En aquel momento reinaba una sorprendente calma en todas las regiones de Asia. El único acontecimiento relevante fue la muerte del Sha Ismail I en Irán el 23 de mayo, conocido por ser un gran poeta, un profundo pensador, un hombre valiente y el fundador de la dinastía safávida. Le sucedió en el trono su hijo de diez años, Tahmasp I, un gobernante bastante gris y sin iniciativa que, sin embargo, permanecería en el trono 52 años. Su vecino, el sultán Solimán el Magnífico, se preparaba para lanzarse a las profundidades de Europa en un momento donde existía una gran calma y estabilidad.

Mientras tanto, la situación era totalmente la contraria en Europa y Rusia, pues ambos lugares estaban experimentando crueles conflictos. Dinamarca y Suecia descansaban tras el fatídico desastre de 1523, en cambio las fronteras de Francia, Alemania e Italia estaban en llamas. En cierto modo, el año de 1524 se parece bastante al 524: el emperador Carlos V lanzó una ofensiva desde el norte de Italia hacia Francia siguiendo las mismas rutas que los ostrogodos habían utilizado un milenio antes. Pero su avance sólo fue posible gracias a la deserción de uno de los hombres más ricos de Francia: Carlos el Borbón, el cual fue obligado a tomar esta decisión inaudita debido al comportamiento sin precedentes de la reina madre Luisa de Saboya, la cual enviudó a los 18 años y buscó desenfrenadamente cada vez más y más amantes hasta convertir a su corte en una zona de libertinaje. Durante muchos años mantuvo una relación con el Condestable Carlos de Borbón, pero en 1521, cuando, tras la muerte de su esposa (la última de la familia Borbón de la rama anterior), Luisa de Saboya exigió casarse con Carlos, este acabó su relación con ella. Luisa, enfurecida por la ruptura, pasó los siguientes tres años fabricando acusaciones falsas en los tribunales, argumentando que todas las vastas propiedades de la familia Borbón en diversas partes de Francia debían pasar a la corona. Al verse en la indigencia y perseguido, Carlos de Borbón cometió traición y huyó a la corte de Carlos V en diciembre de 1523 y aceptó el título de Generalísimo del Sacro Imperio Romano Germánico.

El talentoso Condestable, unos cuantos meses después de ser recibido por la corte de Carlos V, entró en guerra con su país natal, derrotando dos veces a los franceses en Gattinar y Sesia (donde el famoso caballero Bayard cayó de un disparo por la espalda el 30 de abril) e invadió Provenza. Los puertos de Antibes, Frejoux y Tolón cayeron ante sus tropas. Entonces, Carlos de Borbón se declaró conde de Provenza y sitió Marsella. Con las tropas inglesas de Enrique VIII avanzando sobre París, la posición de Francisco I era crítica. Para colmo, ese mismo año hizo ejecutar a su inocente tesorero, el anciano Sanblancet, bajo las falsas acusaciones de su madre de que gastaba dinero en la defensa de su posición en el norte de Italia. Lanzándose a una desesperada contraofensiva contra Carlos V y Carlos de Borbón, Francisco I y su inadecuado conocimiento de la realidad, secundado por generales como Bonivet (Guillaume Gouffier) y Lautrec, terminó sufriendo el desastre de Pavía...

Sorprendentemente, las victorias de Carlos V de Habsburgo en los campos de batalla de Italia y Francia se debieron en gran medida a que su Sacro Imperio Romano Germánico se encontraba en llamas. La Guerra de los Campesinos, que comenzó en mayo, se extendió rápidamente por el sur y el oeste de Alemania, incluyendo Austria, Suiza y Alsacia. El epicentro de las rebeliones en el verano de 1524 fue la Selva Negra, junto con las montañas y bosques de las cabeceras del Rin y el Danubio. Inspirados por la «Carta del Artículo» del anabaptista Müntzer, multitudes de caballeros libres y campesinos rebeldes – tanto protestantes como católicos nominales – quemaron monasterios y casas solariegas al son de la canción de las bandas de Florian Guyer, la cual aún cantan los niños y soldados alemanes: «Spieß voran, drauf und dran, / Setzt auf's Klosterdach den roten Hahn! / Uns führt der Florian Geyer an, trotz Acht und Bann, / den Bundschuh führt er in der Fahn', hat Helm und Harnisch an. / Als Adam grub und Eva spann, kyrieleys, / wo war denn da der Edelmann? kyrieleys. / Das Reich und der Kaiser hören uns nicht, heia hoho, / wir halten selber das Gericht, heia hoho». «El Imperio y el Emperador (Reich y Kaiser) no nos oyen»: con ello se referían a la preocupación de Carlos V por las guerras exteriores. Para colmo de males, ese mismo año también se sublevaron los habitantes de Praga y los trabajadores de las minas eslovacas, tras lo cual Carlos tuvo que reforzar y normalizar la administración de estos territorios, limitando la arbitrariedad de los ricos.

Los levantamientos y la devastación que sufría el centro de Europa en el año de 1524 repercutieron en las crecientes tensiones que experimentaba Rusia. Basilio III tuvo que librar simultáneamente una guerra en dos frentes: contra los lituanos y contra los tártaros. La retirada del Sacro Imperio Romano Germánico de los acuerdos de la alianza antipolaca con Moscú conllevó la necesidad de concluir lo antes posible una tregua con el monarca polaco-lituano Segismundo I el Viejo, que se llevó a cabo en 1522, cuando al final de la guerra de diez años Rusia recibió Smolensk y conservó Opochka. A partir de 1521, con la sucesión de los kanes de Kazán y la guerra intestina del Kanato de Crimea como trasfondo, Basilio III trasladó sus principales fuerzas militares al frente del Volga contra Safa-Girey. Tras rechazar las incursiones tártaras en Kolomna y Moscú, Sukhona y Totma, Galich Mersky y Nizhni Nóvgorod lanzadas en 1523, Basilio III expulsó a los montañeses Mari de su ciudad de Tsepel, fundando en su lugar la fortaleza más oriental del Estado ruso, en la confluencia del río Sura con el Volga, y la llamó en su honor Vasilsursky. Esta ciudad se convirtió en la base de la última incursión hacia Kazán lanzada en el verano de 1524.

El líder formal de la campaña era el kan Shigaley (Shah-Ali), que había sido depuesto hacía tiempo y vivía en Rusia, aunque el asedio de Kazán fue dirigido por los príncipes I.F. Belsky, M.V. Gorbaty-Shuysky y el boyardo M.Y. Zakharyin, de cuyo hermano descendería más tarde la familia real de los Romanov. El asesinato del kan de Crimea Mehmet-Giray Nogai cerca de Astracán jugó a favor de Rusia y dejó sin aliados a Sahib-Giray de Kazán. Privado del apoyo en Crimea, Sahib-Giray, desesperado, pidió ayuda directamente al sultán turco Solimán, prometiéndole convertirse en su vasallo, y en mayo de 1524, enterado del comienzo de la campaña rusa, abandonó Kazán y huyó a Turquía, pero fue detenido por los crimeos en el camino. Por otro lado, la flota fluvial rusa de I.F. Paletsky sufrió una terrible derrota en la batalla con los Mari el 19 de julio. Sin embargo, el asedio de Kazán comenzó el 15 de agosto, aunque no se desarrolló de forma impresionante y terminó en noviembre de ese mismo año, con la firma de una tregua. Moscú y Kazán restablecieron sus relaciones diplomáticas. La feria anual de verano se trasladó de Kazán a territorio ruso; Vasilsursk permaneció bajo dominio moscovita. La restauración del prorruso Shigaley en el trono tendría que esperar otros siete años, pero la victoria táctica de Basilio III era segura a la larga.

Al comparar la situación geopolítica de 1024 y 1524 se notan varias constantes (el liderazgo de China e Irán, el papel primordial del triángulo franco-alemán-polaco en Europa) y el evidente ascenso de Rusia. Basilio III era descendiente directo de Yaroslav el Sabio y controlaba hasta dos tercios de la Rus' de Yaroslav. Sin embargo, Moscú sustituyó a Kiev como polo de poder. Kiev, que llegó a tener entre 20 y 30 mil habitantes hace mil años, solo tenía 5 mil habitantes hace quinientos años, mientras que Moscú en 1524 tenía ya unos 70 mil habitantes y su arquitectura, durante el reinado de Basilio III, superó por fin a la antigua Kiev de Yaroslav. Se puede confirmar este hecho cuando el 13 (23) de mayo de 1524 Basilio III erigió en Moscú el bello monasterio Novodevichy. E incluso el detalle de que el Gran Duque Vasili Ivanovich intentara afeitarse la barba por primera vez en quinientos años no hace sino matizar su paralelismo con su gran antepasado.

El príncipe de Moscú nunca se olvidó de Kiev: en sus mejores años sus tropas se situaron en el río Dniéper, a unos 70-100 kilómetros de la antigua capital y en sus comunicaciones con los embajadores del Sacro Imperio Romano Germánico, ante toda Europa, Basilio III proclamó su legítimo derecho a anexionarse toda la tierra rusa, toda la «patria», incluidas Kiev y Lvov. Los reyes polacos, que se habían apoderado de las tierras rusas occidentales, eran percibidos en Rusia tanto hace mil años como hace quinientos años como los principales enemigos en sus campañas para recuperar todo lo perdido. Al extender su esfera de influencia hasta Kazán, el Gran Duque no hacía sino preparar el terreno para un futuro avance hacia el Oeste. Durante los próximos cinco siglos Rusia recuperó su estatus de polo de poder civilizatorio independiente, lo que le permitió resistir a los encarnizados conflictos del siglo XVI, que sepultaron varias civilizaciones.

[gonzalo-obes]

IMAGENES Y DATOS INTERESANTES DEL 14 DE AGOSTO DE 2024

Día Mundial de la Caligrafía, Día Mundial del Lagarto, Año Internacional de los Camélidos.

San Alán y Santa Anastasia.

Tal día como hoy en el año 2003

El gobierno francés admite que la ola de calor se ha cobrado 3.000 víctimas, aunque en los centros sanitarios se manejan cifras muy superiores.

2000

Las autoridades británicas y francesas suspenden todos los vuelos del Concorde tras la catástrofe que costó la vida a 113 personas y que se produjo tres semanas antes.

1961

Se produce un accidente en el metro de Madrid, al chocar dos trenes, provocando 134 heridos.

1945

Japón se rinde a los aliados, después de ocho días trascendentales en los que se han lanzado dos bombas atómicas norteamericanas sobre territorio japonés. Al día siguiente, 15 de agosto, los ciudadanos japoneses podrán escuchar la voz de su Emperador, Hirohito, comunicándoles la aceptación de las condiciones acordadas en la Conferencia de Postdam para la Rendición de Japón. La II Guerra Mundial habrá terminado en todos sus frentes. (Hace 79 años)

1912

Tropas norteamericanas, al mando del general Butler, invaden Nicaragua y ocupan las calles de su capital, Managua. Los marines norteamericanos han respondido de este modo a la llamada de auxilio emitida por el debilitado presidente nicaragüense Adolfo Díaz, incapaz de contener la insurrección popular contra el Gobierno que amenaza con derrocarlo. (Hace 112 años)

1881

Ante la Conferencia Sanitaria Internacional, que se celebra en Washington, D.C. (EE.UU.), Carlos Juan Finlay, médico cubano en representación del Gobierno colonial, demuestra que el agente transmisor de la fiebre amarilla es la hembra fecundada del mosquito "Aedes aegypti", con lo que América se verá liberada en gran parte de la terrible enfermedad viral infecciosa, fuente de devastadoras epidemias. (Hace 143 años)

1880

Concluye la construcción de la catedral de Colonia (Kölner Dom), en Alemania, la mayor iglesia gótica del norte de Europa, cuyas obras comenzaron en el lejano año de 1248. (Hace 144 años)

1843

La rebelión de los indios semínolas de la península de Florida es aplastada por el ejército de los Estados Unidos, tras siete años de hostigamiento. A los soldados estadounidenses les ha supuesto 1.500 hombres muertos durante los combates y más de 20 millones de dólares a las arcas del Estado. A los semínolas, su práctica desaparición como pueblo. (Hace 181 años)

1502

En el cuarto viaje de Cristóbal Colón, sus expedicionarios saltan a tierra en la actual Honduras, en la desembocadura del Río Tinto que fue nombrado en aquel entonces Río de la Posesión, "con las banderas y los capitanes y con muchos de la armada para oír misa". Colón, que ha caído enfermo, no baja a tierra. Deciden llamar Honduras a ese territorio por lo profundo de la costa. (Hace 522 años)

1415

Enrique V, rey de Inglaterra, y sus tropas desembarcan en Harfleur (Francia) para invadir el país galo. Sólo en 1450 serán finalmente expulsados por Juana de Arco. (Hace 609 años)

1385

Tropas del rey Joao I de Portugal, primer monarca de la dinastía de Avís, al mando del condestable Nuno Alvares, vencen en la batalla de Aljubarrota al ejército castellano de Juan I, confirmando su independencia de Castilla. (Hace 639 años)

1227

En Toledo, actual España, el rey Fernando III y el arzobispo don Rodrigo de Rada colocan la primera piedra de lo que será la catedral gótica. El primer arquitecto encargado de su construcción es el maestro Martín que sigue un modelo muy parecido al de la catedral de Notre-Dame de París. Medirá 120 m de largo por 59 m de ancho. (Hace 797 años)

1084

El Cid, al mando del ejército de la Taifa de Zaragoza, vence a la coalición del rey Al-Mundir de Lérida y Sancho Ramírez de Aragón en la Batalla de Morella, en la actual provincia de Castellón (España). El Cid hace prisioneros a un importante número de noble aragoneses por los que cobrará un gran rescate. (Hace 940 años)

[callmeanxietygirl]

EL PERRITO INMORTALIZADO EN MARMOL 🐶

En el renacentista sepulcro de los Condestables de Castilla esculpido en mármol de Carrara, se localiza, a los pies de doña Mencía de Mendoza, un pequeño perro acurrucado como símbolo de la fidelidad.

[truhanthings]

[tietarteve]

VII Festival de Teatro "Triste Condesa" en Arenas de San Pedro

VII Festival de Teatro "Triste Condesa" en Arenas de San Pedro del 26 al 28 de julio de 2024 a las 22:30h en el Castillo del Condestable Dávalos. Entrada 5 €uros.

VII Festival de Teatro “Triste Condesa” en Arenas de San Pedro del 26 al 28 de julio de 2024 a las 22:30h en el Castillo del Condestable Dávalos. Entrada 5 €uros. Viernes 26 de julio: “El último que apague la luz” de la Cía Birocos S.L. de Emma Ozores. Sábado 27 de julio: “Los enredos de Scapín” de la Cía Morboria. Domingo 28 de julio: “Cucurrucucú Paloma” de Edulogis Producciones.

[artemartinpietro]

La capilla del Condestable, diseñada por Simón de Colonia, es una joya del renacimiento español, adornada con el arte de Gil de Siloé. Un reflejo del espíritu y la grandeza de Castilla en la época de los Reyes Católicos.

[martinprietogreenpeace]

Sumérgete en el arte del Renacimiento español con Simón de Colonia y Gil de Siloé, cuyas obras como la capilla del Condestable representan una era de esplendor y complejidad cultural.