A person close to the seven heirs of the Pazo dos Irlandeses in Santiago recounts that, among "a lot" of offers from hotel chains they received, a few years ago the Center for Irish Studies in Louvain wanted to resume the surprising history of the Compostela mansion, opening in it a university college.
The institution of Leuven dates from 1607, shortly after the founding in Santiago, which was a refuge and stronghold for Irish Catholics for 164 years during the persecutions ordered by Elizabeth I of England to impose Anglicanism.
Felipe II and families who fled from that country promoted the creation of this and other similar centers in Spain (Alcalá, Valladolid, Seville), in relation to another 25 that arose throughout Catholic Europe.
From 1605 to 1769,
The vast majority, as revealed by the lists and genealogies that the owners of the pazo still keep, were children of noble families from Ireland, who came as children and returned to their country as standard-bearers of Saint Patrick, the national patron saint who is celebrated every March 17.
Today, in the midst of a judicial war and a long administrative struggle with the Santiago City Council, the mansion located in the heart of what is called the monumental "almond" of this World Heritage capital is dying, breaking, drenched with rain and, according to the consistory, has become part of the list of 125 properties "in ruin or close to ruin" of the historic Compostela.
Entering this list of sick buildings means that, if the owners do not rehabilitate them within a period of two years, they may end up joining another even blacker list, the dreaded Land Registry, which the City Council can expropriate to restore or directly, auction to the highest bidder.
Meanwhile, the owners of Pazo dos Irlandeses explain that their desire to sell the property to a hotel chain —according to them the only possible way they see to "preserve it as a unit"— is being cut short by the moratorium on licenses that prevents opening More establishments of this type in a city overloaded with squares for a long time, and with a thousand tourist apartments that have now also been stopped.
View of the portico that overlooks the rear garden of the Pazo dos Irlandeses, with the sculpture of Saint Patrick in the background, in the center of Santiago de Compostela. Owners Archive
Few people in Santiago know the beauty that the pazo hides in its garden;
its rear galleries made of wood, iron and colored glass;
its monumental interior staircase;
its ancient carvings of saints;
the San Patricio in polychrome stone that watches over the portico of the central patio;
its period furniture, its moldings, its hydraulic tiles;
or the huge amount of historical documents that survived within its granite walls despite the successive changes of owners and uses.
All those consulted agree that the one known as Pazo dos Irlandeses or de Ramirás, at number 44 Rúa Nova, is the “great undiscovered wonder” on the list of properties in danger.
Three films were filmed there and, before the pandemic, when it entered a program of guided tours to the hidden treasures of the city —Invisible Heritage—,
The Harguindey family, divided between Vigo and Madrid, which has owned the pazo "for about 140 years" according to the person related to the heirs, granted every Irish citizen who came along the "privilege" to see it inside.
Until 2022, you only had to ask at a nearby pharmacy, and at the apothecary they contacted Santiago Álvarez, an 80-year-old neighbor who celebrated his communion there as a child and later became a guardian.
Álvarez continued to keep a bunch of keys to open the door to pilgrims and tourists from Ireland, something that was not within the reach of Compostela.
"Now they no longer have them," reports the same source, "they had to ask them to give them to the architect, because they are already talking with construction companies and processing a loan to undertake a pharaonic work:
It rains in the pazo
This spokesman refers to the last two alarm signals, such as two resounding cries for help, launched by the pazo, made up of three bodies with three floors and some 2,000 square meters, since the end of 2021. One was the landslide on the street of the crown that finished off the coat of arms (of the surnames Bermúdez, Villardefrancos, Pardiñas, Mandiá, Rivadeneira and Bolaño) of the façade built after the existence of the school, at the end of the 18th century.
The other, the trickles of water that come down from the roof when it rains (and this year it pours) and that forced the closure, after more than 35 years, of the only remaining tenant: the Ámboa jewelry store, a famous crafts and creations store. of jet that is already going through its second ERTE due to the persistent leaks.
The owner of the store, Vicente Sande, has taken the owners of the property to court while continuing to pay the rent, a rent that comes from behind: "Only 650 euros for 300 square meters in the monumental and tourist area," protests the source linked to the Harguindeys.
The jeweler explains that "the deterioration has been progressively noticeable for a long time", and that first he and his employees tried to "resist", placing tarpaulins on the entire roof, channeling the water with tubes to evacuate it.
Until there was "an incredible saturation" that not only prevented customers from receiving, but also put their collections at risk.
For half a year, Ámboa has been "temporarily closed" and the conflict with the landlords has been brought to court.
Rear view of the pazo. Óscar Corral
The other battle of the pazo, wrapped by the owners with a mesh as a result of the collapse of the crown, is fought in the Town Hall.
And according to the Councilor for Urban Planning, Housing and the Historic City, Mercedes Rosón (PSdeG-PSOE), the family "has repeatedly failed" the execution orders received, "with disciplinary proceedings since 2011".
“It is a very sad topic, they have no interest.
Of all the building permits that they have requested, they have not carried out any," laments Rosón, "it is a building with enormous heritage and historical value that is in a situation of great deterioration due to a lack of responsibility on the part of the owners , who have not been up to the standard that the pazo deserves, divided on the fate they want to give it ”.
In the City Hall there are "a lot of reports from municipal architects about the poor state of conservation and building permits to correct", but so far "they have only fixed little things, small patches, without addressing the comprehensive rehabilitation" that the mansion requires, explains the person also responsible for the Urban Discipline area.
Now "fines are being processed," warns the deputy mayor, and even "assessing putting the pazo in the Land Registry" in order to rescue it.
This is an "instrument" that, according to Rosón, usually serves "for families to come to an agreement" before reaching expropriation, because renovations are expensive, she admits, "but there is a lot of help."
"I hope this time it's serious," says Goretti Sanmartín, municipal spokesman for the Galician Nationalist Bloc,
“No one has more love for the pazo than the family”
"They have taken care of it as much as they could," defends the source close to the family, who assures that the Harguindeys want to start work on the roof as of May and that "nobody is more interested" in keeping the house or "more love for their history” than they.
But this property of which they are "proud" and with which they feel they have a "moral obligation" is at the same time a condemnation, like so many centuries-old constructions with beams and ashlars in the hands of multiple heirs.
In this case, the property came to the family after great-grandfather Juan Harguindey, the main businessman in the tanneries in Galicia and promoter of "the first train that arrived" in the community, bought the stately building and other adjoining buildings.
Pazo de Ramirás or Dos Irlandeses, covered with a mesh against landslides from the façade in Rúa Nova de Santiago. Óscar Corral
Since the 18th century, the site that had housed one of the original headquarters of the University of Santiago and the school for the Irish underwent transformations.
It was rebuilt, enlarged;
served as a private home;
student residence where a totem of Galician culture came to stay, the writer Ramón Otero Pedrayo;
it was Chamber of Commerce and local of the College of Graduates in Philosophy and Letters.
Until 18 years ago, it was inhabited by several Harguindey sisters, but now it is empty and, judging by the water that reaches the ground floor, uninhabitable.
A few years ago the family entered into negotiations with hoteliers who wanted to open two restaurants on the ground floor, linked by the gardens.
That did not prosper.
Not all the heirs agreed, "and it was not a solution for the upper floors," says the person close to the owners.
"Now the property is tied by the moratorium that prevents the change of use to a hotel," she insists, referring to the decision of the previous local government in 2015 (Compostela Aberta) to stop the proliferation of beds in the center.
"They are only allowed to build houses, something impossible if you want to preserve the structure, with the staircase and the plants, each one measuring 600 square meters," she protests.
"If they wanted to use it as a hotel, they had time before the measure came into force," replies Mercedes Rosón,
“But a historic city is not a city if many different realities do not coexist in it, if there are no neighbors;
You cannot let it be colonized only by tourism”.
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