Red, Purple & Yellow

As the Bourbon dynasts left Madrid early last week, a happy madness filled the city. From countless housetops fluttered the Republican flag--three horizontal stripes of red, purple, yellow. All day and all night delirious crowds paraded, cavorted, gyrated in the streets with red stockinet "liberty caps" on their heads. Policemen who had been shooting at these same people three days before, turned their cloaks inside out to show the red lining, and grinned broadly. Workmen, feeling frightfully self important, chopped the crowns and shields off public buildings. In the midst of the celebration, some far-sighted official sent a fire engine to the Royal Palace. The firemen posted up handbills: PEOPLE OF MADRID RESPECT THIS BUILDING. IT IS YOURS.

At dawn, exhausted revelers lay in the gutters to sleep. Druggists reported the greatest epidemic of sore throats in years.

Hendaye Statement. Within 24 hours of his departure, correspondents learned that though Alfonso XIII might no longer be King of Spain, he was still the country's shrewdest politician. The train bearing the Queen and Royal children from Madrid stopped at Hendaye, on the French border, where French officials were waiting to give the Queen the same official greeting she had always had on her innumerable trips over the same line. Queen Victoria Eugenie appeared briefly at a window and made an announcement which historians last week were already calling the Hendaye Statement:

"The King has not abdicated. He has not even passed over his powers. He has merely left the country."

While reporters rushed with this news to telephone booths, the Royal family emerged--not from their private car, a hot box had forced it to be disconnected at Avila--but from an ordinary third-class coach. While they were being fawned and wept over by Spanish Royalists, a train pulled into Hendaye from the north. It was jammed with Republican exiles rushing back to Spain, all cheering, talking, smoking, gloating over the pleasant political berths that awaited them in Madrid.

"Suspending the Exercise.' As soon as the Hendaye Statement became general news, the Republican Government was forced to publish the paper that Alfonso had signed before he left the palace. By no means an abdication, it was as dignified a statement as any ruler practically kicked from his throne could make:

"The elections which took place Sunday have clearly shown me that I have lost the affection of my people. ... A king can make mistakes, and doubtless I have sometimes erred, but I know very well that our country has always shown itself to be generous toward faults which were without malice.

"I am King of all the Spaniards and I am myself a Spaniard. I could have employed divers means to maintain the Royal prerogatives and effectively to combat my enemies, but I wish resolutely to step aside from anything that might throw some of my countrymen against each other in fratricidal civil war.

"I do not renounce any of my rights because they are more than mine--they are the accumulated store of history and I shall one day have to make a rigorous account of their conservation. I am waiting to learn the real expression of the collective opinion of my people, and . . . I am deliberately suspending the exercise of the Royal power and I am leaving Spain. . . .

"Once more today I believe I am doing a duty which is dictated to me by my love of my country. I ask God that all Spaniards shall understand their duty as deeply as I do mine."

Zamora. With Alfonso still calling himself King of Spain, most of the South American countries and France, Portugal, Jugoslavia, Bulgaria and Turkey rec- ognized the new Spanish Republic last week. Washington prepared to do so at the earliest opportunity.* But plainly Niceto Alcala Zamora, in jail month ago, President of Spain last week, was going to need great patience and cunning to keep his new-blown Republic from speedy disaster. Observers last week drew up a formidable list of obstacles which the new regime must overcome to achieve stability. White-mustachioed President Alcala Zamora is quite a recent Republican. Until his bitter quarrel in 1923 with paunchy Dictator Primo de Rivera, he was a Royalist, and as such served in three cabinets. At the time of his quarrel, he called his family together and told them that he was going to devote his whole fortune-- shrewdly gained in the law--to the revolutionary effort, come what might.

Catalan Republic. Provisional-President Alcala Zamora's most immediate problems were the Catalan Republic and the possible secession of the Basque Prov- inces. Spain's Irish problem is Catalonia, but unlike Ireland, Catalonia is the richest, most fertile, most enterprising province in the Spanish Peninsula. Barcelona, its capital, is Spain's biggest port and most modern city. The Catalonians have their own language, would rather speak French to foreigners than Spanish, have been ardent Republicans for years. Long has it irked them to pay exorbitant taxes to Madrid to help support the economically backward provinces.

They have contributed for years to Republican organizations with the promise that when the King was overthrown they should have their independence. They claimed it last week, ran up their own flag (five vertical stripes of red and yellow) and elected a Catalan Colonel, Francisco Macia, as their first President. President Macia announced that Catalonia would remain a part of the Spanish Republic, but with something approximating Canada's Dominion status perhaps. The Madrid politicians, realizing that home rule for Catalonia certainly means increased taxes for Madrid, flew to Barcelona to confer.

Army. "There is just one thing worse for Spain than Alfonso," said able Republican Scholar Miguel Unamuno recently, "and that is the Spanish Army. Woe unto us if we ever have a Republic with it in control."

He meant of course not the army but the officers. Spain with naturally protected frontiers and a population of only 22,760,854 has an army of 304,000, one officer for every 20 men, one officer for every 1,000 inhabitants. There are battalions of colonels, squadrons of generals. Alfonso pampered the army, for the army kept him in power (only last January he raised the pay of all lieutenants 25%, generals 10%). Republican leaders realized that the army was the bane of Spain last week but did not know what to do about it. Spanish officers cut the crowns off their uniforms last week, but did not throw them away.

Church & Land. Spain is a Roman Catholic country. Critics of the Inquisition are apt to forget that it was supremely successful in its primary object: the wiping out of heresy, Protestantism. There are a few Protestant churches in Spain and liberty of worship is permitted all sects. But 99% of the people owe spiritual allegiance to Rome. Royal Spain was the only country that still paid state tribute to the Roman Catholic Church: between 5000,000 and 60,000,000 gold pesetas a year (about $12,000,000). The Church owns property of incalculable value, priests exert tremendous influence, not only spiritually. The Alcala Zamora Government, remembering Mexico's troubles, moved tactfully last week toward breaking the relations of Church and State.

First it was announced that if the Republic continued to pay its tribute to the Church, the Vatican must promise that all the money would be spent in Spain, not given over to the Church for general expenses. Next it was decreed that no Government official should attend church festivals in his official capacity, no priest should preach on political matters. Spanish cemeteries, in which only Catholics have had the right of Christian burial, were to be open to all. At the week's end no effort had yet been made to disestablish monasteries, recapture Church property.

The Vatican kept a patient silence except to say it felt Spain's revolution was a "setback."

Land. Spain has 22,760,854 inhabitants, but her arable land is divided among less than 280,000 estates. Like Mexico and Russia, Spain was preparing last week to break up the vast estates of the grandees, give peasants a chance to own their farms. Mindful of the failure of thousands of Mexican peon farms, Spain moved cautiously, suggested a system whereby the land would not be held individually, or by semi-Soviet cooperatives, but by the municipalities.

The Escape. After a week of excited, contradictory news despatches, it was possible to reconstruct in detail the departure of the Royal family from Madrid, an event to rank with Louis XVI's flight to Varennes, Napoleon's departure for Elba.

On the day that Madrid thought Alfonso was signing his abdication, the round Plaza del Oriente in front of the Royal Palace in Madrid was kept clear by police and mounted Civil Guards. Inside, pale, sober Alfonso XIII scratched busily at his manifesto with a gold pen. With a scrawl of his signature he rose, handed the paper to Count de Romanones, "richest man in Spain," until that morning Royalist Minister of State. Said Alfonso to the Count:

"I believe I have conscientiously served my country. Such has been my intention. This moment I feel that I am more of a Spaniard than ever."

Almost at the same time members of the Republican Cabinet of President Niceto Alcala Zamora were quietly taking over their new offices. Upstairs in the palace weeping Queen Victoria Eugenie, her daughters, her ladies in waiting, three of her four sons, packed furiously.

At 3:10 p.m. a fleet of cars drew up at the gate of the palace. In the first car sat Dr. Gregorio Maranon, prominent Republican, guarantor for the safety of the caravan. King & Queen bade each other a tearful goodbye. Queen Victoria Eugenie and her children began their flight to France by driving to the Escorial, that rambling building 31 miles from Madrid that is at the same time a monastery, a church, a palace and a mausoleum, whose name is literally "The Dump." A curious crowd gathered at the Escorial railroad station where the Royal car, its white blinds drawn, stood coupled to a puffing locomotive. Queen Victoria Eugenie and her children descended to the Escorial crypt where lie the bones of the Kings and Queens of Spain. They prayed before their ancestors' tombs. Then they entered the train. So deathly pale was the Prince of the Asturias that he had to be lifted into the car. Prince Jaime, the second son, six feet tall but born deaf and dumb, babbled pitifully. Victoria Eugenie sobbed:

"I am leaving on the same sort of day as that on which I arrived in Spain as a bride to be. There was the same bright sunshine then as there is today."

One final feudal touch marked her passing. Sitting in the locomotive cab, his hand on the throttle, was the Duke of Saragossa, Grandee of Spain, whose hereditary right it is to drive the locomotive of the Queen's train. Earlier in the morning he had rushed to the Madrid North Station, thinking that the Royal train would leave from there and had been roundly hooted by Republican youths. At the Escorial he jangled his bell and opened the throttle in dignified silence.

While Republican Madrid roared itself hoarse in the streets, Alfonso stayed in his palace until 8 p. m. A little group of lean, white-haired nobles gathered in the throne room to bid him farewell. Slowly the King passed down the line of Royal Halberdiers. Through a side gate in the garden he stepped, entered his racing car which was waiting at the curb and sped through the city. President Alcala Zamora in a second car accompanied him to the city limits. On a hill overlooking Madrid, Alfonso got out for a moment to look back at the city he was leaving.

Four o'clock in the morning, seven hours later, Alfonso's car roared down to the docks at Cartagena. Police kept back the crowd. A little group of naval officers stood huddled at the end of the pier in the starlight. The Captain's barge from the cruiser Principe Alfonso rose and fell with the tide. King Alfonso in a brown overcoat and grey felt hat jumped from his car, strode forward nervously puffing a cigaret. Grey-haired Admiral Magaz, onetime member of Dictator Primo de Rivera's cabinet advanced snuffling con solations. Alfonso threw aside his cigaret.

"I am continuing my traditions! Vamos! Let us go!"

He jumped into the barge. Propellers churned the water white. The officers on the pier set up a feeble cheer, "Viva el Rey!"

"Viva Espana!" cried Alfonso, and disappeared in the night.

Paris, the city that decapitated one pair of Bourbon monarchs 138 years ago, welcomed the King & Queen of Spain exuberantly last week. Dapper Prefect of Police Jean Chiappe had his bowler hat pushed over his eyes several times by ecstatic French and Spanish Royalists be- fore the Biarritz express pulled into the Gare d'Orleans. Queen Victoria Eugenie wept again at the unexpected welcome. Nine months ago the Prince of the Asturias, heir to the throne, arrived jauntily in Paris, apparently entirely cured of his haemophilia (easy bleeding) but the strain of the past fortnight was too much for him. White-jacketed attendants carried him from the train on a stretcher.

The same day Alfonso XIII landed from his cruiser at Marseilles, took the train to rejoin his family. Reporters hopped aboard at every stop but were firmly excluded from the Royal compartment. In the diner one newshawk peeped into the Royal casserole, reported that Alfonso was lunching off a truffled pigeon.

Paris put on an even greater demonstration for the fugitive King. Smiling wanly, he pushed his way through the crowd, drove to the swanky Hotel Meurice on the Rue de Rivoli where he had reserved an entire floor for his family and his followers at $600 per day. After Paris police warned that they could not protect him adequately in the city, the King moved with his entourage to Fontainebleau, 15 mi. distance, took quarters in the Hotel Savoy. Soon the $20,000 which he had brought with him was nearly exhausted by loans to his companions who, in their haste, had fled Spain penniless. Straightway he began to negotiate loans upon a personal credit estimated at $10,000,000.

In the first two days after the King's arrival in Paris half the exiled Royalty of Europe flocked to the hotel with messages of condolence. Queen Elisabeth of the Belgians called, so did ex-Empress Zita of Austria (Alfonso gave her refuge in Madrid after her downfall). So did Prince Nicholas of Greece, Grand Duke Dmitri of Russia. After a day hectic with worry, exhaustion and despair, word came up that Marie of Rumania was downstairs.

Maria Isabel. Almost forgotten by the press and people of Madrid, Alfonso's aged aunt the Infanta Maria Isabel of Spain was left behind in the Palace when the rest of the family fled. Ill and past 80 years old, looking almost exactly like the Duchess in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland* she was not told of the revolution or of the flight of the family for fear the news would be too much for her. But the frenzy, the shouting in the streets reached even her tired ears.

"What's all the shouting for?" she snapped.

"Your Highness," stammered a lady in waiting, "it is revolution. The King is gone. Spain has been declared a Republic."

The indomitable old lady prepared to pack and leave as she had done 58 years ago.

Republic of '73. Ancient Maria Isabel is one of the few living Spaniards who remembers vividly Spain's first Republic. In 1873 indomitable Maria Isabel (her father bore the surprising name, for a Bourbon consort, of Francis of Assisi) was a young woman of 22, already two years a widow. In 1868, the year of her marriage, her mother Queen Isabella was driven from the throne by an army mutiny. Liberals then proudly announced that the "spurious race of Bourbon" had disappeared forever.

In 1870 Prince Amadeo of Savoy, second son of King Victor Emmanuel II of Italy, was elected King of Spain. He lasted two years, resigned. In 1873 a Republic was declared. In one year, while Royalist followers of Queen Isabella and of the pretender Don Carlos fought among them- selves, Spain had three Presidents, made innumerable attempts to adopt a new constitution. Just as they did last week, a dozen Spanish provinces attempted to claim independence, split the Republic.

In 1875 Spain, with a sigh of relief, accepted Alfonso XII as King and Infanta Maria Isabel moved back into the rooms which she did not vacate again until last week.

*Unmentioned in the U. S. Press all last week was the fact that upon Alfonso XIII as upon Wilhelm II the U. S. once made war. The cordial relations that have existed between Alfonso and the U. S. all this century are largely due to the fact that during the Spanish-American War, U. S. editors, disliking the thought of their country warring with a boy of 12, concentrated their diatribes on his Ministers and the Regent, Queen Maria Christina.

*Sir John Tenniel modeled his Duchess from a portrait of Margaret, Countess of Tyrol, immortalized by Author Lion Feuchtwanger in The Ugly Duchess. There is no family relationship, however, between Margaret of Tyrol and Infanta Maria Isabel of Spain.

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