ABSTRACT
On the morning of 29 September 1929, Miguel Primo de Rivera was exultant. The dictator was in Jerez de la Frontera, the town of his birth, where he was going to take part in the inauguration of a statue in his honour. To receive its favourite son, the balconies of the city had been decorated with Manila shawls. 1 In the streets, a party atmosphere could be felt. At 12:30 precisely, a bugler’s call announced the arrival of the dictator at the Plaza de Alfonso XII, where an equestrian statue of the Marqués de Estella – the work of Mariano Benlliure – stood covered by a gigantic Spanish flag. Gathered in the square were the civil and military authorities of the province, members of the town council, numerous government ministers; dignitaries from the Unión Patriótica, such as José María Pemán and José Pemartín; the King’s son and Captain-General of Andalucía, Carlos de Borbón y Borbón; members of the local aristocracy, such as the Marqués de Salobral and Marqués de Domecq; members of Primo’s family, like his sister María Jesús and his children, Carmen, Pilar and Miguel; as well as thousands of residents on foot. There followed a series of speeches from the Conde de Villamiranda (secretary of the organising committee for the event), the Marqués de Villamarta, Señor Rivero (the Mayor of Jerez) and finally, on behalf of ‘all Spanish women’, Doña María de la Calle. Primo took to the microphone to give thanks for this event held in his honour. 2 The dictator spoke of his bond with the city of his birth, saying that he had appealed to the Virgin of Mercy, the patron saint of the city, on the day of the military landings at Alhucemas in September 1925, and recalled his ‘childhood steps’ through the square, which had brought him into contact with ‘all the most prestigious people’, many of whom were now ‘present at this event, a generation later, or perhaps two, men such as myself, strong and tough enough to serve their fatherland’. 3 In the same vein, the Marqués de Estella declared with emotion that he had seen that very day, in the Plaza de Abastos, a group of ‘modest women’ who had ‘served in his home, or to put it another way, lived happily together with [the Primo de Rivera] family’. 4 The dictator was particularly emotional because, among these servants who had lived ‘happily together’ with his family, he had seen his nanny.
