The exhibits were appropriate because Alfonso was the Learned King, and the exhibits were of his books: the books he had his scholars research, write, lay out, and decorate in his court, and which he would've inspected to make sure they were to his standard and then left for future generations in his testament. Those books.
The places housing the exhibits were appropriate because they're the two most important libraries in Spain. Even the humblest of libraries is a temple of learning. These buildings, with their grandeur and special designs for preserving and honoring books, are cathedrals of learning.
My new knight in shining armor and I have been crazy busy, but when I saw that these once-in-a-millennium exhibits were about to end, we made a special trip, right around Valentine's Day. Books = Love.
That illuminated A... I would wear a shirt with that on it!
What we all came for right up front: the To codex of the
Cantigas de Santa Maria, produced at the court of Alfonso X and personally approved by the king. With about 100
cantigas, it's considered to be the first part of a project that just kept growing.
I can't emphasize enough that these books are deluxe and that it's a miracle we can decipher the musical notation today and enjoy these beautiful songs. The manuscript is open to Cantiga 37, a miracle about a man whose foot hurt so much he cut it off. The foot was replaced when he asked St. Mary for help.
The greatest law treatise of Alfonso's court, the
Siete Partidas, this time in a copy for Queen Isabel I. I studied this and other law treatises for my doctoral dissertation. The confidence and clarity with which these scholars wrote in a language that had only been written down officially for about fifty years is stunning.
The other great law treatise, the
Especulo, predecessor of the
Siete Partidas, in a copy from the fourteenth century, which is the only medieval copy the National Library has.
A beautiful codex of the
Fuero Real, a royally sanctioned municipal law code. This one was granted to Valladolid in 1255, just three years into Alfonso's reign.
Display of the presentation miniatures of a codex of the first
Partida that is held in the British Library. I'd only ever seen black-and-white reproductions before. Unlike traditional medieval European presentation miniatures, instead of a scribe presenting a completed book to the person who asked for it to be copied (usually a king), here King Alfonso dictates the contents of the book and looks overhead at the book's inspiration and eventual recipient: God.
Display of the presentation miniature from a
History of Spain codex from about 1280. The king tells his historians what to write and points to his heir, Sancho, who will become Sancho IV.
The
General History was meant to be a history of the world from ancient times to the thirteenth century (their present day), but only made it to the first century AD before Alfonso's death cut the project short. This massive codex is from the royal scriptorium, about 1270, and is only the first part.
A closeup of the beautifully legible text (you can't become learned if you can't read the texts) about the lineages of Jacob,
General History.
Display of the beautiful colophon of the
Book of the Canons, an astronomy treatise. The red and blue part reads, "Here ends the book of the canons the most noble King Don Alfonso ordered to be written. May God grant him life and good health for a long time."
The
Book of the Crosses, an astrology treatise from 1259, signed by its translators, Yehuda ben Mose ha-Kohen and Juan de Aspa.
The
Complete Book on Scrutiny of the Stars, about 1254.
The
Tablas Alfonsies were astronomical measurements taken at Toledo for Alfonso X between 1263 and 1274, and were used by scholars all over the known world for hundreds of years thereafter. This manuscript is from Paris, about 1320.
A
History of Spain from the beginning of the fourteenth century (after Alfonso's death).
Finally, a feminine touch: Queen Isabel II, who helped found the National Library.
Out front, twentieth-century statues of the greats of Spanish literature. Here, Vives (father of psychology) and Nebrija (who wrote the first Spanish dictionary, 1492).
Lope de Vega and Miguel de Cervantes, who I suppose don't need further introduction.
Isidore of Seville, a Visigoth (c. 560 - 636) who takes pride of place here because he wrote Latin
Etymologies that have been an important reference ever since.
And the star of all learning, Alfonso X,
el Sabio.
This statue exercises a particular attraction on this book nerd. In his hand, he holds a sheet from the
Siete Partidas. It was probably hard to decide which branch of learning to represent with this medieval Renaissance man.
Mario and I walked back to where we'd parked through most of monumental Madrid. It's such a wonderful place to visit! Here I am with another statue of Cervantes across from the congress building.
The very next morning, we headed to El Escorial in the mountains around Madrid for "Codices of the Wise King."
The monastery of El Escorial was built for Felipe II according to Neo-Classical architectural principles of reason, proportion, and balance. It has the most important manuscript library in Spain.
I liked that my mask had the same image on it!
This exhibit was, if possible, even more mind-blowing because all the manuscripts were from the court of Alfonso X, books the king himself would have touched and marveled at (or possibly pointed out the flaws in), including the E and T codices of the
Cantigas de Santa Maria, which obviously I have some affection for.
In the beautiful library, a veritable temple of learning. Absolutely electrifying! But at the library of El Escorial, they never allow photos. So you'll have to take my word for it.
This was as close as I got before they started yelling not to take photos. I really think it should be apparent that I am not there to harm the books in any way, shape, or form.
I'd like to note that the ceiling of the library is painted with symbols of all the branches of learning. Alfonso X appears in the section for astronomy, with a tablet and an astrolabe.
Mario and I spent a good hour and half poring over the exhibit of nine manuscripts, so we got our money's worth.
The gift shop had many beautiful items with cantigas and Book of Chess designs on them, and of course I nabbed a few.
Back in the car, we decided on a strategy for lunch, and suddenly the whole couple of days came crashing down, and I sobbed with the emotion. Yes, it meant that much to me to see these books in person. With someone who encouraged my passion, no less.
I don't always weep with gratitude, but this occasion certainly merited it.
This was as close as I got before they started yelling not to take photos. I really think it should be apparent that I am not there to harm the books in any way, shape, or form. 
