Puente de San Isidro: Goya's Meadow and a Saint Who Found Water
Why is it significant?
Stop on the Puente de San Isidro and look west, up the gentle slope beyond the far bank, to the hill rising behind the trees. That slope is the Pradera de San Isidro, the meadow of Madrid's patron saint.
Key Facts
| Place | Puente de San Isidro: Goya's Meadow and a Saint Who Found Water |
|---|---|
| Address | Puente de San Isidro, 28005 Madrid, Spain |
| Geo Coordinates | 40.40380, -3.72280 |
| Part of Walk | Madrid Río: Royal Bridges, a Buried Motorway and the Slaughterhouse Turned Arts Factory |
| Generated | Generated |
Stop on the Puente de San Isidro and look west, up the gentle slope beyond the far bank, to the hill rising behind the trees. That slope is the Pradera de San Isidro, the meadow of Madrid's patron saint.
Isidro was a real man, a farm labourer who lived around the year 1100 and worked the fields on this side of the river for a landowner of Madrid. He became the city's patron, and the legends about him are almost all about water, which tells you a lot about a dry city. The story goes that when his master was thirsty, Isidro struck the ground and a spring burst out. On the hill above the meadow stands the hermitage of San Isidro, rebuilt in the eighteenth century beside a spring whose water pilgrims still believe can heal.
Every year on 15 May, the feast of San Isidro, the meadow fills with Madrileños in traditional dress, the men in checked caps, the women in long fringed shawls with carnations in their hair, eating rosquillas, the local doughnut-shaped pastries, and dancing the chotis on the grass.
In 1788 Francisco de Goya sketched exactly this scene for a royal tapestry: crowds of picnickers on the meadow, with the whole skyline of Madrid floating across the river behind them, the Royal Palace and the dome of San Francisco el Grande shining in the haze. The painting is in the Prado today, and it is one of the best views of Madrid ever made... seen from where you are looking now.
For centuries, then, this river was not a border but a front porch: the city on one bank, its holiday on the other. The motorway years broke that link, and the park has slowly mended it. Continue south along the river towards the large open space where, until a few years ago, tens of thousands of people used to sing on match days.