At the Escorial at last

It has only been a little over a week since this writer returned from a two week pilgrimage of sorts to the nation that best defended the Catholic Religion against the protestant attacks: the Kingdom of Spain. One can read about the role of this once great Catholic State and the many saints that thronged the monasteries, churches, and towns during Spain's golden age, and yet not quite realize the degree to which the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were dominated by a power that was unabashedly Catholic. This was the situation of the present writer, who had read works on the figures of Spanish history without understanding concretely what the glory of Spain meant.

All started to become clear as the palace of El Escorial came into view. Here was an enormous complex, built around the great church of Saint Lawrence, and containing not only a palace for the king and the royal family, but also a monastery and school. It rose like a vision of the Jerusalem come down from above before the viewer, perched on the crest of a hill, overlooking a wide valley with forest and river, and having the mountains behind as a magnificent backdrop to the the center of the empire of Philip II and the Hapsburg kings. All of this handiwork was exquisite, both Divine and human. Yet grand as it was as a monument to royal power, one was struck still further by the Catholicism of the Spanish realm when one entered within. Room upon room contained masterpieces of art, the vast majority of which revealed some episode of sacred history. The patronage of the kings of Spain ensured that sacred revelation was clothed by the most talented masters of the artists world. But this was far from exhausting the mystery of the Escorial. All was built around the High Altar of the Church of Saint Lawrence. On one side was the small bedchamber of the king and the adjoining private study. The room of the king's repose was small, almost spartan; but it allowed the king to look upon the High Altar of the Church and so assist at the Mass, even if bedridden. On the other side of the altar was the Queen's chambers, constructed in the same manner. This was a Catholic king, and the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass was at the heart of Catholic Spain.

When one entered the basilica, one was struck by its magnificence. Side altar after side altar proclaimed devotion to the twelve apostles, and the saints of the Church through the ages found a place throughout the edifice. In the back was the Crucified, in Spanish style, suffering for mankind with all the intensity for which Spanish devotion was capable. But all moved to the High Altar, built at the climax of a myriad of steps, a true mountain of Sacrifice upon which Calvary was renewed. From this altar rose a high reredos, beautifully crafted with paintings proclaiming Catholic devotion. Here indeed was Catholicism proclaimed by the heroes of Spanish Christendom. The visitor could not help but be awed at the depth of the profession of the Catholic Faith, and the very symbolic grandeur by which it was professed by its mightiest defender.

It was kneeling before the High Altar of this temple of God, that this writer was struck the most forcefully by the glory that was Spain, a Catholic glory that was unashamed. The thought of a passage in "The Lord of the Rings" came spontaneously to mind. It might be objected that such a thought should have no place here in the palace of a great Catholic power, but the words describing Elven Lotholorien came to mind. That realm was said to be the "heart of elvendom upon earth". It was said in the midst of wonder. And so it was here. In the Escorial, one entered not only into a Church that boldly proclaimed the truth of Catholicism. One entered into a church around which the greatest empire in Europe was governed, but which was the devotional heart of the kings of that empire. Here was the temporal heart of Christendom upon earth, even as Rome was its spiritual heart. Spain may have been slowly destroyed by its non-Catholic enemies, ideologically and religiously, but this palace still triumphantly stood as a monument to better times. Even now, the black legend is the backdrop to world history as presently taught. The figures of Isabella the Catholic and Philip II are paraded as the nadir of fanaticism and intolerance. But this is appropriate as the King of Kings and Lord of Lords was mocked by the figures surrounding the apostate figure of the High Priest of Israel, His mission derided by the very people He came to save. So the western world mocks the memory of Catholic Spain. Its kings are derided for intolerance, its Inquisition that saved that kingdom from the religious wars afflicting Europe is the quintessence of evil in the eyes of a world that does not blink at the murder of millions of its offspring, nor at the fact that it has caused the death of millions more during the course of two world wars. All in the name of democracy and the liberty of man.

And so the Escorial stands still. In its bosom lie the mortal remains of the Spanish monarchs since Charles V, save for two, their queens, infantas, and the monument of Don Juan of Austria, half-brother to Philip II and hero of Lepanto. Let the degraded descendants of the mighty kingdom of Spain spurn the greatness of their ancestors, let the tourists gawk at the vast palace from which Spain ruled the world. None of this will detract from the monument to the great deeds of Spain's past and the sacrifice of its blood to preserve the Catholic religion and spread it throughout the Spanish empire. That is a crown that can never be taken away, a crown laid up for Catholic Spain in Heaven.