Travel
Miramar
[We shall be glad to answer queries arising out of the Travel articles published in our columns. Enquiries should be addressed to the Travel Manager, The SPECTATOR, 99 Gower Street, W.C.1.—Ed. SPECTATOR.] TRAVELLING in Spain is still considered by many an adventure. That is one reason why Spain, in spite of her Exhibitions and
her friendly welcome, still does not attract so many visitors as Italy. Another obstacle, no doubt, is the cost of living, and the Dictator, General Primo de Rivera, is blamed, of course, for the " exorbitant "hotel charges. As a matter of fact, it is thanks to the Government that the increased charges are only fifty per cent. above the normal, and not really inabordables. This measure of control over business appetites is rigidly enforced, and we should be grateful for it. There is one part of Spain, however, where life is normal and prices unchanged this year. The Fortunate Isles, as the Balearics are com- monly known, most certainly deserve the name. No longer can it be said that as a travel magnet Mallorca is only known to the few. Yet tourists rarely go beyond Palma, the capital, except perhaps for an excursion to Soller. In spring or in autumn the fruit orchards and nurseries of Soller once seen are never forgotten. Yet the island is not simply a feast of beauty for the artist ; it is rich in historical associations, especially in the west between Soller and the sea. Those who trudge up the winding road that leads from Soller to the picturesque little hill town of Deya and on farther westwards to Miramar and Valldemosa are amply repaid for the toil of their pilgrimage by glimpses of a coastline of matchless beauty and by the knowledge that they are treading in the footsteps of some of the most pathetic figures of all time. Now human habitation counts for little ; all is in harmony with Nature, unspoiled. But this strip of coastline is peopled with the ghosts of a thirteenth-century saint and scholar, two Austrian Archdukes, one of the greatest musical geniuses and one of the most remarkable women in history. The idyll of George Sand and Chopin with its tragic sequel draws countless visitors year by year to the old Carthusian monastery at Valldemosa, while not far from the Miramar- Valldemosa road a sturdy square tower is hallowed by the people of the island as a portion of the building in which, in 1276, Ramon Lull established his Arabic College for the training of thirteen Franciscan missionaries. Another town, called after him, is the most conspicuous landmark as you go towards the sea, and mounted on its rocky platform it seems to stand there beckoning to seafarers to stop awhile and visit the lovely coast. But Miramar itself recalls the château of that name, beau- tifully situated on the outskirts of Trieste, which was the home of that ill-fated Archduke of Austria known to the world as Emperor Maximilian of Mexico. It was while Maximilian was in the naval service of his country that he visited the Mediterranean island and fell a victim to the twofold charm of place and name. To those versed in the Court annals of Europe, the death of his widow, Empress Charlotte, in 1927, will have brought some recollection of that tragic figure. His fame, however, never reached the island, and it is useless to look for any.memorial there of him who first paid homage to the name of Miramar. Far otherwise is it with that other Austrian Archduke, whose memory is kept green from gene- ration to generation among the simple hill-folk and the more sophisticated inhabitants of Soller. Louis Salvator, to whom, no doubt, young Maximilian had imparted some of his enthusiasm about his discovery," came to the Miramar coast first in 1867 at the age of twenty. Five Years later he renounced the garish delights of Austrian Society in favour of the simple life among the fisher-folk and peasants in this remote part of the " terra remota."
Many there are who say that Louis Salvator sought seclusion and4iblivion,after a most unhappy love affair. This is indeed the tradition that is handed down to their children by those who knew him. It is a legend, however, which is not supported by Itny known fact. He was very popular with the natives, though shy and avoiding intercourse as much as possible. Tall and handsome, an artist and an aristocrat to his finger tips, he yet felt most happy and most at home when in some old threadbare coat and rough rustic breeches he could wander about as one of them. He did full justice to the beauty of the Mallorcan women. Not one of those whom he delighted to honour but was rewarded by his bounty in some way, The old woman who acts as caretaker of the ducal villa speaks with reverence of him as she shows the well- lined study—books, pictures, armour, globes—where he dabbled in the arts and sciences, and the richly carved bed and fine old chests which seem worthy of any palace. Not from her, however, will you hear of those incidents of his life on the island which endeared him most to the natives. One who knew him related how on one of his solitary rambles, Louis Salvator came across a poor countryman bending over his donkey, which had stumbled and fallen with a heavy load on
her back, and trying in vain to lift her. The prince did not hesitate for a moment. He threw off his coat and lifted with all his might so that by their combined efforts the ass was restored to her feet again. The peasant thanked his silent helper and slipped into his hand two reaks, which the Archduke smilingly pocketed, saying, " That is the first time in all my life I have earned anything by the sweat of my brow." And when that man reached home he found a handful of silver in a corner of the saddle bag. There is an amusing story, too, which illustrates his in- veterate dislike for pomp and circumstance. He was asked once to go to a dinner at Palma on the occasion of some artistic celebration, which turned out to be nothing more or less than a fashionable gathering. When Louis Salvator arrived in his hobbledehoy clothes—which he would never discard—to find everyone in full regalia, he refused to have anything to do with his host and hostess's friends. Without a word he sat down at the banquet and then, to the horror and dismay of the distinguished assemblage, he was observed to be deliberately tipping his soup down his open shirt-front. With that he rose and bid farewell to the company, saying : " I, Louis Salvator, was asked to this dinner, not my rank or my noble dress. Most of you present seem to have come on purpose to see the Archduke."
Like so many, however, of those who have short shrift for the snobbery and petty conventions of this world, Louis Salvator is remembered chiefly as a public benefactor. He it was who caused the house in which he first lived at Miramar to be set up as a hospederia, where all who passed that way might obtain lodging, fuel, and oil gratis for three nights. As long as he was alive he had the satisfaction of knowing that many a weary traveller, as well as not a few of his beloved islanders, benefited by his generosity. He died while on a visit to Austria in 1914, just after War broke out, broken-hearted, they say, at the turn events had taken in his own country. Here in the private chapel which he had had built by the side of his Miramar home, there lies a recumbent effigy of the Archduke as the simple folk knew him. Nor should the casual traveller leave Miramar without some pious tribute to its hermit-duke, for that small round tower, which is the vantage-point for the most entrancing view of the wide curve of the sea-coast and the bold projection of the Poradada (the pierced rock), was built by Louis Salvator as one of the adornments of his estate, and in no way deserves the connexion with Ramon Lull which is attributed to it by local legend.
[The Spanish Travel Bureau, 173 Piccadilly, London, 11%1; gives full information concerning travel in Spain and the islands, and includes among its brochures a delightful study of Mallorca, by Sir Harry Brittain, K.B.E., C.M.G., reprinted front the Windsor Magazine:]
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