Chapter V: Part V: Eastern Castile

I. Valladolid 293

II. Avila 302

III. Segovia 312

IV. Madrid-Alcala 321

V. Sigueenza 335

VI. Cuenca 342

VII. Toledo 349

Appendix 369

Index 387

[Note of Transcriber of the ebook]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Leon Cathedral (_See page 154_) _Frontispiece_

Cloister Stalls in a Monastic Church at Leon 48

Typical Retablo (Palencia) 50

Mudejar Architecture (Sahagun) 64

Santiago and Its Cathedral 82

Church of Santiago, Corunna 92

General View of Mondonedo 96

Mondonedo Cathedral 98

Northern Portal of Orense Cathedral 116

Tuy Cathedral 128

Oviedo Cathedral 140

Cloister of Oviedo Cathedral 144

Apse of San Isidoro, Leon 164

Burgos Cathedral 180

Crypt of Santander Cathedral 190

Cloister of Najera Cathedral 202

Santa Maria la Redonda, Logrono 204

Western Front of Calahorra Cathedral 207

Cloister of Soria Cathedral 212

Palencia Cathedral 226

Zamora Cathedral 238

Toro Cathedral 248

Old Salamanca Cathedral 260

New Salamanca Cathedral 266

Cuidad Rodrigo Cathedral 272

Facade of Plasencia Cathedral 288

Western Front of Valladolid Cathedral 300

Tower of Avila Cathedral 310

Segovia Cathedral 316

San Isidro, Madrid 326

Alcala de Henares Cathedral 332

Toledo Cathedral 360

_PART I_

_Introductory Studies_

_The Cathedrals of Northern Spain_

I

GENERAL REMARKS

History and architecture go hand in hand; the former is not complete if it does not mention the latter, and the latter is incomprehensible if the former is entirely ignored.

The following chapters are therefore historical and architectural; they are based on evolutionary principles and seek to demonstrate the motives of certain artistic phenomena.

Many of the ideas superficially mentioned in the following essays will be severely discussed, for they are original; others are based on two excellent modern historical works, namely, "The History of the Spanish People," by Major Martin Hume, and "Historia de Espana," by Senor Rafael Altamira. These two works can be regarded as the _dernier mot_ concerning the evolution of Spanish history.

Unluckily, however, the author has been unable to consult any work on architecture which might have given him a concise idea of the story of its gradual evolution and development, and of the different art-waves which flowed across the peninsula during the stormy period of the middle ages, which, properly speaking, begins with the Arab invasion of the eighth century and ends with the fall of Granada, in the fifteenth.

Several works on Spanish architecture have been written (the reader will find them mentioned elsewhere), but none treats the matter from an evolutionary standpoint. On the contrary, most of them are limited to the study of a period, of a style or of a locality; hence they cannot claim to be a _dernier mot_. Such a work has still to be written.

Be it understood, nevertheless, that the author does not pretend--_Dios me libre!_--to have supplied the lack in the following pages. In a couple of thousand words it would be utterly impossible to do so. No; a complete, evolutionary study of Spanish architecture would imply years of labour, of travel, and of study. For so much on the peninsula is hybrid and exotic, and yet again, so much is peculiar to Spain alone. Thus it is often most difficult to determine which art phenomena are natural--that is, which are the logical results of a well-defined art movement--and which are artificial or the casual product of elements utterly foreign to Spanish soil.

Willingly the author leaves to other and wiser heads the solving of the above riddle. He hopes, nevertheless, that they (those who care to undertake the mentioned task) will find some remarks or some observations in the following chapters to help them discover the real truth concerning the Spaniard's love, or his insensibility for architectural monuments, as well as his share in the erection of cathedrals, palaces, and castles.

Spanish architecture--better still, architecture in Spain--is peculiarly strange and foreign to us Northerners. We admire many edifices in Iberia, but are unable to say wherefore; we are overawed at the magnificence displayed in the interior of cathedral churches and at a loss to explain the reason.

As regards the former, it can be attributed to the Oriental spirit still throbbing in the country; not in vain did the Moor inhabit Iberia for nearly eight hundred years!

The powerful influence of the Church on the inhabitants, an influence that has lasted from the middle ages to the present day, explains the other phenomenon. Even to-day, in Spain, the Pope is supreme and the princes of the Church are the rulers.

Does the country gain thereby? Not at all. Andalusia is in a miserable state of poverty, so are Extremadura, La Mancha, and Castile. Not a penny do the rich, or even royalty, give to better the country people's piteous lot; neither does the Church.

It is nevertheless necessary to be just. In studying the evolutionary history of architecture in Spain, we must praise the tyranny of the Church which spent the millions of dollars of the poor in erecting such marvels as the cathedral of Toledo, etc., and we must ignore the sweating farmer, the terror-stricken Jew, the accused heretic, the disgraced courtier, the seafaring conquistador, who gave up their all to buy a few months' life, the respite of an hour.

And the author has striven to be impartial in the following pages. Once in awhile his bitterness has escaped the pen, but be it plainly understood that not one of his remarks is aimed against Spain, a country and a people to be admired,--above all to be pitied, for they, the people, are slaves to an arrogant Church, to a self-amusing royalty, and to a grasping horde of second-rate politicians.

II

HISTORICAL ARABESQUES

The history of Spain is, perhaps, more than that of any other nation, one long series of thrilling, contradictory, and frequently incomprehensible events.

This is not only due to the country's past importance as a powerful factor in the evolution of our modern civilization, but to the unforeseen doings of fate. Fate enchained and enslaved its people, moulded its greatness and wrought its ruin. Of no other country can it so truthfully be said that it was the unwitting tool of some higher destiny. Most of the phenomena of its history took place in spite of the people's wishes or votes; neither did the different art questions, styles, periods, or movements emanate from the people. This must be borne in mind.

The Romans were the first to come to Spain with a view to conquering the land, and to organizing the half-savage clans or tribes who roamed through the thickets and across the plains. But nowhere did the great rulers of the world encounter such fierce resistance. The clans were extremely warlike and, besides, intensely individual. They did not only oppose the foreigner's conquest of the land, but also his system of organization, which consisted in the submission of the individual to the state.

The clans or tribes recognized no other law than their own sweet will; they acted independently of each other, and only on rare occasions did they fight in groups. They were local patriots who recognized no fatherland beyond their natal vale or village.

This primary characteristic of the Spanish people is the clue to many of the subsequent events of the country's history. Against it the Romans fought, but fought in vain, for they were not able to overcome it.

Christianity dawned in the East and was introduced into Spain, some say by St. James in the north, others by St. Peter or St. Paul in the south.

The result was astonishing: what Roman swords, laws, and highroads had been unable to accomplish (as regards the organization of the savage tribes) Christianity brought about in a comparatively short lapse of time.

The reason is twofold. In the first place, the new form of religion taught that all men were equal; consequently it was more to the taste of the individualistic Spaniard than the state doctrines of the Roman Empire.

Secondly, it permitted him to worship his deity in as many forms (saints) as there were days in the year; consequently each village or town could boast of its own saint, prophet, or martyr, who, in the minds of the citizens, was greater than all other saints, and really the god of their fervent adoration.

Hence Christianity was able to introduce into the Roman province of Hispania a social organization which was to exert a lasting influence on the country and to acquire an unheard-of degree of wealth and power.

When the temporal domination of Rome in Spain had dwindled away to nothing, other foreigners, the Visigoths, usurped the fictitious rule. Their state was civil in name, military in organization, and ecclesiastical in reality.

They formed no nation, however, though they preserved the broken fragments of the West Roman Empire. The same spirit of individualism characterized the tribes or people, and they swore allegiance to their local saint (God) and to the priest who was his representative on earth (Church)--but to no one else.

Consequently it can be assumed that the Spanish nation had not as yet been born; the controlling power had passed from the hands of one foreigner to those of another: only one institution--the Church--could claim to possess a national character; around it, or upon its foundations, the nation was to be built up, stone by stone, and turret by turret.

* * * * *

The third foreigner appeared on the scene. He was doubtless the most important factor in the formation of the Spanish nation.

It is probable that the Church called him over the Straits of Gibraltar as an aid against Rodrigo, the last Visigothic king, who lost his throne and his life because too deeply in love with his beautiful Tolesian mistress.

Legends explain the Moor's landing differently. Sohail, as powerfully narrated by Mr. Cunninghame-Graham, is one of these legends, beautifully fatalistic and exceptionally interesting. According to it, the destiny of the Moors is ruled by a star named Sohail. Whither it goes they must follow it.

In the eighth century it happened that Sohail, in her irregular course across the heavens, was to be seen, a brilliant star, from Gibraltar. Obeying the stellar call, Tarik landed in Spain and moved northwards at the head of his irresistible, fanatic hordes. The star continued its northerly movement, visible one fine night from the Arab tents pitched on the plains between Poitiers and Tours. The next night, however, it was no longer visible, and Charles Martel drove the invading Moors back to the south.

Centuries went by and Sohail appeared ever lower down on the southern horizon. One night it was only visible from Granada, and then Spain saw it no more. That same day--'twas in the fifteenth century--Boabdil el Chico surrendered the keys of Granada, and the Arabs fled, obeying the retreating star's call.

To-day they are waiting in the north of Africa for Sohail to move once again to the north: when she does so, they will rise again as a single man, and regain their passionately loved Alhambra, their beautiful kingdom of Andalusia.

Tradition is fond of showing us a nucleus of fervent Christian patriots obliged by the invading Arab hordes to retire to the north-western corner of the Iberian peninsula. Here they made a stand, a last glorious stand, and, gradually increasing in strength, they were at last able to drive back the invader inch by inch until he fled across the straits to trouble Iberia no more.

Nothing is, however, less true. The noblemen and monarchs of Galicia, Leon, and Oviedo--later of Castile, Navarra, and Aragon--were so many petty lords who, fighting continually among themselves, ruled over fragments of the defeated Visigothic kingdom. At times they called in the Arab enemy--to whom in the early centuries they paid a yearly tribute--to help them against the encroachments of their brother Christians. Consequently they lacked that spirit of patriotism and of national ambition which might have justified their claims to be called monarchs or rulers of Spain.

The Church was no better. Its bishops were independent princes who ruled in their dioceses like sovereigns in their palaces; they recognized no supreme master, not even the Pope, whose advice was ignored, and whose orders were disobeyed.

It was not until the twelfth or thirteenth century that the Christian incursions into Moorish territory took the form of patriotic crusades, in which fervent Christians burnt with the holy desire of weeding out of the peninsula the Saracen infidel.

This holy crusade was due to the coming from France and Italy of the Cluny monks. Foreigners,--like the Romans, the Church, the Visigoths, and the Moors,--they created a situation which facilitated the union of the different monarchs, prelates, and noblemen, by showing them a common cause to fight for. Besides, anxious to establish the supreme power of the Pope in a land where his authority was a dead letter, they crossed the Pyrenees and broke the absolute power of the arrogant prelates.

The result was obvious: the Church became uniform throughout the country, and its influence waxed to the detriment of that of the noblemen. Once again the kings learnt to rely upon the former, thus putting an end to the power of the latter. Once more the Church grew to be an ecclesiastical organization in which the role of the prelates became more important as time went on.

In short, if the coming of the Moors retarded for nearly six hundred years the birth of the Spanish nation, this birth was directly brought about by the political ability of the Cluny monks; the Moors, on the other hand, exerted a direct and lasting influence on the shaping and moulding of the future nation.

Christian Spain, at the time of the death of the pious warrior-king San Fernando, was roughly divided into an eastern and a western half, into the kingdom of Castile (and Leon) and that of Aragon. The fusion of these two halves by the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabel, two hundred years later, marks the date of the birth of Spain as a nation.

It is true, nevertheless, that the people had little or no voice in the arrangement of matters. They were indifferent to what their crowned rulers were doing, and ignorant of the growing power, wealth, and learning of the prelates. All they asked for was individual liberty and permission to pray to the God of their choice. Neither had as yet the spirit of patriotism burned in their breasts, and they were utterly insensible to any and all politics which concerned the peninsula as a unity.

But the Church-state had successfully evolutionized, and Catholic kings sat on the only available throne. The last Moor had been driven from the peninsula, the Jews had been expelled from the Catholic kingdom, and the Inquisition--now that the Church could no longer direct its energy against the infidel--strengthened the Pope's hold on the land and increased the importance and magnificence of the prelates themselves.

* * * * *

A word as to heresy (the Reformation) and the Inquisition. The latter was not directed against the former, for it would have been impossible for the people to accept the reformed faith in the fifteenth century. For the Spaniard the charm of the Christian religion was that it placed him on an equal footing with all men; hence, it flattered his love of personal liberty and his self-consciousness or pride. The charm of Catholicism was that it enabled him to adore a local deity in the shape of a martyred saint; thus, it flattered his vanity as a clansman, and his spirit of individualism.

It was not so much the God of Christianity he worshipped as Our Lady of the Pillar, Our Lady of Sorrows, of the Camino, etc., and he obeyed less readily the archbishop than the custodian priest of his particular saint, of whom he declared "that he could humiliate all other saints."

Consequently Protestantism, which tended to kill this local worship by upholding that of a collective deity, could never have taken a serious hold of the country, and it is doubtful if it ever will.

On the other hand--as previously remarked--the Spanish Inquisition helped to centralize the Church's power and obliged the people to accept its decisions as final. The effect of Torquemada's policy is still to be felt in Spain--could it be otherwise?

* * * * *

Had successive events in this stage of Spain's history followed a normal course, and had the education of the people been fostered by the state instead of being cursed by the Church, it is more than probable that the map of Europe would have been different to-day from what it is. For the Spanish people would have learnt to think as patriots, as a nation; they would have developed their country's rich soil and thickly populated the vast _vegas_; they would have taken the offensive against foreign nations, and would have chased and battled the Moor beyond the Straits of Gibraltar.

It was not to be, however. An abnormal event was to take place--and did take place--which repeated in fair Iberia the retrograde movement initiated by the Arab invasion 750 years earlier.

A foreigner was again the cause of this new phenomenon, a harebrained Genoese navigator whom the world calls a genius because he was successful, but who was an evil genius for the new-born Spanish nation, one who was to load his adopted country with unparalleled fame and glory before causing her rapid and clashing downfall.

Christopher Columbus came to Spain from the east; he sailed westwards from Spain and discovered--for Spain!--two vast continents.

The importance of this event for Spain is apt to be overlooked by those who are blinded by the unexpected realization of Columbus's daring dreams. It was as though a volcanic eruption had taken place in a virgin soil, tossing earth and grass, layers and strata of stone, hither and thither in utter confusion, impeding the further growth of young plantlets and forbidding the building up of a solid national edifice.

Instead of devoting their energies to the interior organization of the country, Spaniards turned their eyes to the New World. In exchange for the gold and precious stones which poured into the land, they gave that which left the country poor and weak indeed: their blood and their lives. The bravest and most intrepid leaders crossed the seas with their followers, and behind them sailed thousands upon thousands of hardy adventurers and soldiers.

But the Spaniards could not colonize. They lacked those qualities of collectivity which characterized Rome and England. The individualistic spirit of the people caused them to go and to come as they chose without possessing any ambition of establishing in the newly acquired territories a home and a family; neither did the women folk emigrate--and hence the failure of Spain as a colonizing power.

On the other hand, those who had sailed the seas to the Spanish main, and had hoarded up a significant treasure, invariably returned, not to Spain exactly, but to their native town or village. Upon arriving home, their first act was to bequeath a considerable sum to the Church, so as to ease their conscience and to assure themselves homage, respect, and unrestrained liberty.

The effects produced by this phenomenon of individualism were manifold. They exist even to-day, so lasting were they.

A new nobility was created--wealthy, powerful, and generally arrogant and unscrupulous, which replaced the feudal aristocracy of the middle ages.

Secondly, oligarchy--or better still, _caciquismo_, an individualistic form of oligarchy--sprung up into existence, and rapidly became the bane of modern Spain; that is, ever since the Bourbon dynasty ruled the country's fate. As can easily be understood, this _caciquismo_ can only flourish there where individualism is the leading characteristic of the people.

Thirdly, all hopes of the country's possessing a well-to-do middle class--stamina of a wealthy nation, and without which no people can attain a national standard of wealth--vanished completely away.

Lastly the Church, which had become wealthy beyond the dreams of the Cluny monks, retained its iron grip on the country, and retarded the liberal education of the masses. To repay the fidelity of servile Catholics, it canonized legions of local prophets and martyrs, and organized hundreds of gay annual _fiestas_ to honour their memory. The ignorant people, flattered at the tribute of admiration paid to their deities, looked no further ahead into the growing chaos of misery and poverty, and were happy.

The crash came--could it be otherwise? Beyond the seas an immense territory, hundreds of times larger than the natal _solar_, or mother country, stretched from the Atlantic to the Pacific; at home, a stillborn nation lay in an arid meadow beside a solemn church, a frivolous, selfish throne, and a mute and gloomy brick-built convent.

The Spanish Armada sailed to England never to return, and Philip II. built the Escorial, a melancholy pantheon for the kings of the Iberian peninsula.

One by one the colonies dropped off, fragments of an illusory empire, and at last the mother country stood once more stark naked as in the days before Columbus left Palos harbour. But the mother's face was no longer young and fresh like an infant's: wrinkles of age and of suffering creased the brow and the chin, for not in vain was she, during centuries, the toy of unmerciful fate.

* * * * *

Such is, in gigantic strides, the history of Spain.

The volcanic eruption in the fifteenth century has left, it is true, indelible traces in the country's soil. Nevertheless, on the very day when the treaty of Paris was signed and the last of the Spanish colonies _de ultramar_ were lost for ever, that day a Spanish nation was born again on the disturbed foundations of the old.

There is no denying it: when Ferdinand and Isabel united their kingdoms a nation was born; it fell to pieces (though apparently not until a later date) when Columbus landed in America.

Anarchy, misrule, and oppression, ignorance and poverty, now frivolity and now austerity at court, fill the succeeding centuries until the coronation of Alfonso XII. During all those years, but once did Spain--no longer a nation--shine forth in history with an even greater brilliancy than when she claimed to be mistress of the world. But, on this occasion, when she opposed, in brave but disbanded groups, the invasion of the French legions, she gave another proof of the individualistic instincts of the race, as opposed to all social and compact organization of the masses.

The Carlist wars need but a passing remark. They were not national; they were caused by the ambitions of rulers and noblemen, and fought out by the inhabitants of Navarra and the Basque Provinces who upheld their _fueros_, by paid soldiery, and by _aldeanos_ whose houses and families were threatened.

* * * * *

New Spain was born a few years ago, but so far she has given no proof of vitality. As it is, she is cumbered by traditions and harassed by memories. She must fight a sharp battle with existing evil institutions handed down to her as a questionable legacy from the past.

If she emerge victorious from the struggle, universal history will hear her name again, for the country is not _gastado_ or degenerate, as many would have us believe.

If she fail to throw overboard the worthless and superfluous ballast, it is possible that the ship of state will founder--and then, who knows?

In the meantime, let us not misjudge the Spaniard nor throw stones at his broken glass mansion. To help us in this, let us remember that unexpected vicissitudes, entirely foreign to his country, were the cause of his illusory grandeur in the sixteenth century. Besides, no more ardent a lover of individual (not social) freedom than the Spaniard breathes in this wide world of ours--excepting it be the Moor.

Under the circumstances he is to be admired--even pitied.

III

ARCHITECTURAL ARABESQUES

_Preliminaries_

The different periods mentioned in the preceding chapter are characterized by a corresponding art-movement.

The germs of these movements came invariably from abroad. In Spain they lingered, were localized and grew up, a species of hybrid plants in which the foreign element was still visible, though it had undergone a series of changes, due either to the addition of other elements, to the inventive genius of the artist-architect, or else peculiar to the locality in which the building was erected.

Other conclusive remarks arrived at in the foregoing study help to explain the evolution of church architecture. Five were the conclusions: (1) The power and wealth of the Church, (2) the influence exerted by foreigners on the country's fate, (3) the individualistic spirit of the clanspeople, (4) the short duration of a Spanish nation, nipped in the bud before it could bloom, and (5) the formation of an oligarchy (_caciquismo_) which hindered the establishment of an educated _bourgeoisie_.

The first of the above conclusive observations needs no further remarks, considering that we are studying church architecture. It suffices to indicate the great number of cathedrals, churches, hermitages, monasteries, convents, cloisters, and episcopal palaces to be convinced of the Church's influence on the country and on the purses of the inhabitants.

The Spaniard, psychologically speaking, is no artist; it is doubtful if illiterate and uneducated people are, and the average inhabitant of Spain forms no exception to this rule. His artistic talents are exclusively limited to music, for which he has an excessively fine ear. But beauty in the plastic arts and architecture leave him cold and indifferent; he is influenced by mass, weight, and quantity rather than by elegance or lightness, and consequently it is the same to him whether a cathedral be Gothic or Romanesque, as long as it be dedicated to the deity of his choice.

The difference between Italian and Iberian is therefore very marked. Even the landscapes in each country prove it beyond a doubt. In Italy they are composed of soft rolling lines; the colours are varied,--green, red, and blue; the soil is damp and fruitful. In Spain, on the contrary, everything is dry, arid, and savage; blue is the sky, red the brick houses, and grayish golden the soil; the inhabitants are as savage as the country, and the proverbial "_ma e piu bello_" of the Italian does not bother the former in the slightest.

All of which goes to explain the Spaniard's insensibility to the plastic arts, as well as (for instance) the universal use of huge _retablos_ or altar-pieces, in which size and bright colours are all that is required and the greater the size, the more clashing the colours, the better.

Neither is it surprising that the Spaniard created no architectural school of his own. All he possesses is borrowed from abroad. His love of Byzantine grotesqueness and of Moorish geometrical arabesques is inherited, the one from the Visigoths, and the other directly from the Moors. The remaining styles are northern and Italian, and were introduced into the country by such foreigners--monks and artists--as crowded to Spain in search of Spanish gold.

These artists (it is true that some, and perhaps the best of them, were Spaniards) did not work for the people, for there was no _bourgeoisie_. They worked for the wealthy prelates, for the aristocracy, and for the _caciques_. These latter had sumptuous chapels decorated, dedicated an altar to such and such a deity, and erected a magnificent sepulchre or series of sepulchres for themselves and their families.

This peculiar phenomenon explains the wealth of Spanish churches in lateral chapels. Not a cathedral but has about twenty of them; not a church but possesses its half a dozen. Moreover, some of the very finest examples of sepulchral art are not to be found in cathedrals, but in out-of-the-way village churches, where some _cacique_ or other laid his bones to rest and had his effigy carved on a gorgeous marble tomb.

These chapels are built in all possible styles and in all degrees of splendour and magnificence, according to the generosity of the donor. Here they bulge out, deforming the regular plan of the church, or else they take up an important part of the interior of the building. There they are Renaissance jewels in a Gothic temple, or else ogival marvels in a Romanesque building. They are, as it were, small churches--or important annexes like that of the Condestable in Burgos, possessing a dome of its own--absolutely independent of the cathedral itself, rich in decorative details, luxurious in the use of polished stone and metal, of agate and golden accessories, of gilded friezes, low reliefs, and painted _retablos_. They constitute one of the most characteristic features of Spanish religious architecture and art in general, and it is above all due to them that Iberia's cathedrals are museums rather than solemn places of worship.

But the Spanish people did not erect them; they were commanded by vain and death-fearing _caciques_, and erected by artists--generally foreigners, though often natives. The people did not care nor take any interest in the matter; so long as the village saint was not insulted, nor their individual liberty (_fuero_) infringed upon, the world, its artists and _caciques_, could do as it liked.

This insensibility helped to hinder the formation of a national style. Besides, as the duration of the Spanish nation was so exceedingly short, there was no time at hand to develop a national art school. In certain localities, as in Galicia, a prevailing type or style was in common use, and was slowly evolving into something strictly local and excellent. These types, together with Moorish art, and above all _Mudejar_ work, might have evolved still further and produced a national style. But the nation fell to pieces like a dried-up barrel whose hoops are broken, and the nation's style was never formed.

Besides, contemporary with the birth of the nation was the advent of the Renaissance movement. This was the _coup de grace_, the final blow to any germs of a Spanish style, of a style composed of Christian and Islam principles and ideals:

"Es waer zu schoen gewesen,
Es haett' nicht sollen sein!"

Under the circumstances, the art student in Spain, however enthusiastic or one-sided he may be, cannot claim to discover a national school. He must necessarily limit his studies to the analysis of the foreign art waves which inundated the land; he must observe how they became localized and were modified, how they were united both wisely and ridiculously, and he must point out the reasons or causes of these medleys and transformations. There his task ends.

One peculiarity will strike him: the peninsula possesses no pure Gothic, Romanesque, or Renaissance building. The same might almost be stated as regards Moorish art. The capitals of the pillars in the mezquita of Cordoba are Latin-Romanesque, torn from a previous building by the invading Arab to adorn his own temple. The Alhambra, likewise, shows animal arabesques which are Byzantine and not Moorish. Nevertheless, Arab art is, on the whole, purer in style than Christian art.

This transformation of foreign styles proves: (1) That though the Spanish artist lacked creative genius, he was no base imitator, but sought to combine; he sought to give the temple he had to construct that heavy, massive, strong, and sombre aspect so well in harmony with the religious and warlike spirit of the different clanspeople; and (2) that the same artist failed completely to understand the ideal of soaring ogival, of simple Renaissance, or of pure Romanesque (this latter he understood better than either of the others). For him, they--as well as Islam art--were but elements to be made use of. Apart from their constructive use, they were superfluous, and the artist-architect was blind to their ethical object or aesthetical value. With their aid he built architectural wonders, but hybrid marvels, complex, grand, luxurious, and magnificent.

Be it plainly understood, nevertheless, that in the above paragraphs no contempt for Spanish cathedrals is either felt or implied. Facts are stated, but no personal opinion is emitted as to which is better, a pure Gothic or a complicated Spanish Gothic. In art there is really no better; besides, comparisons are odious and here they are utterly superfluous.

_Cathedral Churches_

Before accompanying the art student in his task of determining the different foreign styles, we will do well to examine certain general characteristics common to all Spanish cathedrals. We will then be able to understand with greater ease the causes of the changes introduced into pure styles.

The exterior aspect of all cathedrals is severe and massive, even naked and solemn. Neither windows nor flying buttresses are used in such profusion as in French cathedrals, and the height of the aisles is greater. The object is doubtless to impart an idea of strength to the exterior walls by raising them in a compact mass. An even greater effect is obtained by square, heavy towers instead of elegant spires. (Compare, however, chapters on Leon, Oviedo, Burgos, etc.) The use of domes (_cimborios_, lanterns, and cupolas) is also frequent, most of them being decidedly Oriental in appearance. The apse is prominent and generally five-sided, warlike in its severe outline. Stone is invariably used as the principal constructive element,--granite, _berroquena_ (a soft white stone turning deep gray with age and exposure), and _sillar_ or _silleria_ (a red sandstone cut into similar slabs of the size and aspect of brick). Where red sandstone is used, the weaker parts of the buildings are very often constructed in brick, and it is these last-named cathedrals that are most Oriental in appearance, especially when the brick surface is carved into _Mudejar_ reliefs.

Taken all in all, the whole building often resembles a castle or fortress rather than a temple, in harmony with the austere, arid landscape, and the fierce, passionate, and idolatrous character of the clanspeople or inhabitants of the different regions.

The principal entrance is usually small in comparison to the height and great mass of the building. The pointed arch--or series of arches--which crowns the portal, is timid in its structure, or, in other words, is but slightly pointed or not at all.

The interior aspect of the church is totally different. As bare and naked as was the outside, so luxurious and magnificent is the inside. Involuntarily mediaeval Spanish palaces come to our mind: their gloomy appearance from the outside, and the gay _patio_ or courtyard behind the heavy, uninviting panels of the doors. The Moors even to this day employ this system of architecture; its origin, even in the case of Christian churches, is Oriental.

Leaving aside all architectural considerations, which will be referred to in the chapters dedicated to the description of the various cathedrals, let us examine the general disposition of some of the most interesting parts of the Spanish church.

The aisles are, as a rule, high and dark, buried in perpetual shadow. The lightest and airiest part of the building is beneath the _croisee_ (intersection of nave and transept), which is often crowned by a handsome _cimborio_.

The nave is the most important member of the church, and the most impressive view is obtained by the visitor standing beneath the _croisee_.

To the east of him, the nave terminates in a semicircular chapel, the farther end of which boasts of an immense _retablo_; to the west, the choir, with its stalls and organs, interrupts likewise the continuity of the nave. Both choir and altar are rich in decorative details.

Behind the high altar runs the ambulatory, joining the aisles and separating the former from the apse and its chapels. The rear wall of the high altar (in the ambulatory) is called the _trasaltar_, where a small altar is generally situated in a recess and dedicated to the patron saint, that is, if the cathedral itself be dedicated to the Virgin, as generally happens.

Sometimes an oval window pierces the wall of the _trasaltar_ and lets the light from the apsidal windows enter the high altar; this arrangement is called a _transparente_.

The choir, as wide as the nave and often as high, is rectangular; an altar-table generally stands in the western extremity, which is closed off by a wall. The rear of this wall (facing the western entrance to the temple) is called the _trascoro_, and contains the altar or a chapel; the lateral walls are also pierced by low rooms or niches which serve either as chapels or as altar-frames.

The placing of the choir in the very centre of the church, its width and height, and its enclosure on the western end by a wall, render impossible a view of the whole building such as occurs in Northern cathedrals, and upon which the impression of architectural grandeur and majesty largely depends. It was as though Spanish architects were utterly foreign to the latter impression, or wilfully murdered it by substituting another more to their taste, namely, that of magnificence and sumptuousness. Nowhere--to the author's knowledge--is this impression more acutely felt than in a Spanish cathedral, viewed from beneath the _croisee_.

Glittering brilliancy, dazzling gold, silver, or gilt, polished marble, agate, and jasper, and a luxuriance of vivid colours meet the visitor's eyes when standing there. The effect is theatrical, doubtless, but it impresses the humble true believer as Oriental splendour; and what, in other countries, might be considered as grotesque and unhealthy art, must in Spain be regarded as the very essence of the country's worship, the very _raison d'etre_ of the cathedral. Neither can it be considered as unhealthy: with us in the North, our _religious awe_ is produced by the solemn majesty of rising shafts and long, high, and narrow aisles; this fails to impress the Iberian of to-day; and yet, the same sentiment of _religious awe_, of the terrible unknown, be it saint, Saviour, Virgin, or God, is imparted to him by this brilliant display of incalculable wealth.

To produce this magnificence in choir and high altar, decorative and industrial art were given a free hand, and together wrought those wonders of the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries which placed Spain in a prominent position in the history of art. Goldsmiths and silversmiths, masters of ironcraft, sculptors in stone and wood, painters and _estofadores_, together with a legion of other artists and artisans of all classes and nationalities, worked together in unison to create both choir and high altar.

Therefore, from an artistic point of view, the Spanish cathedral is for the foreigner a museum, a collection of art objects, pertaining, most of them, to the country's industrial arts, for which Iberia was first among all nations.

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CHOIR STALLS.--Space cannot allow us to classify this most important accessory of Spanish cathedrals. Carved in walnut or oak, now simple and severe, now rich and florid, this branch of graphic art in low relief constitutes one of Spain's most legitimate glories. It is strange that no illustrated work dedicated exclusively to choir stalls should have been published in any language. The tourist's attention must nevertheless be drawn to this part of religious buildings; it must not escape his observation when visiting cathedral and parish churches, and above all, monastical churches.

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RETABLO.--The above remarks hold good here as well, when speaking about the huge and imposing altar-pieces so universally characteristic of Spain.

The eastern wall of the holy chapel in a cathedral is entirely hidden from top to bottom by the _retablo_, a painted wooden structure resembling a huge honeycomb. It consists of niches flanked by gilded columns. According to the construction of these columns, now Gothic shafts, now Greek or composite, now simple and severe, the period to which the _retablo_ belongs is determined.

Generally pyramidically superimposed, these niches, of the height, breadth, and depth of an average man, contain life-size statues of apostle or saint, painted and decorated by the _estofadores_ in brilliant colours (of course, as they are intended to be seen from a distance!), in which red and blue are predominant, and which produce a gorgeous effect _rehausse_ by the gilt columns of the niches. (Compare with the Oriental taste of _Mudejar_ work in ceilings or _artesonados_.)

The whole _retablo_, in the low reliefs which form the base, and in the statues or groups in the niches, represents graphically the life of the Saviour or the Virgin, of the patron saint or an apostle; some of them are of exquisite execution and of great variety and movement; in others, greater attention has been paid to the decoration of the columns or shafts by original floral garlands, etc. Foment, Juni, and Berruguete are among the most noted _retablo_ sculptors, but space will not permit of a more prolific classification or analysis.

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GOLD AND SILVERSMITHS.--The vessels used on the altar-table, effigies of saints, processional crosses, etc., in beaten gold and silver, are well worth examination. So is also the cathedral treasure, in some cases of an immense value, both artistic and intrinsic. Cloths, woven in coloured silks, gold, and precious stones, are beautiful enough to make any art lover envious.

The central niche of the _retablo_, immediately above the altar-table, is generally occupied by a massive beaten silver effigy, the artistic value of which is unluckily partially concealed beneath a heap of valuable cloths and jewels.

But where the silversmith's art is purest and most lavishly pronounced is in the _sagrarios_. These are solid silver carved pyramids about two or three feet high: they represent miniature temples or thrones with shafts or columns supporting arches, windows, pinnacles, and cupolas. In the interior, an effigy of the saint, or the Virgin, etc., to whom the cathedral is dedicated, is to be seen seated on a throne.

In all cases the workmanship of these miniature temples is exquisite, and has brought just fame to Spain's fifteenth and sixteenth century silversmiths.

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IRONCRAFT.--Last to be mentioned, but not least in importance, are the artisans who worked in iron. They brought their trade up to the height of a fine art of universal fame; their artistic window _rejas_, in the houses and palaces of the rich, are the wonder of all art lovers, and so also are the immense _rejas_ or grilles which close off the high altar and the choir from the transept, or the entrance to chapels from the aisles. Though this art has completely degenerated to-day, nevertheless, a just remark was made in the author's hearing by an Englishman, who said:

"Even to-day, Spaniards are unable to make a bad _reja_."

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The reader's and tourist's attention has been called to the salient artistic points of a Spanish cathedral. They must be examined one by one, and they will be admired; the view of the ensemble will puzzle and amaze him, yet it will be wise for him not to criticize harshly the lack of _unity of style_. Frequently the choir stalls are ogival, the _retablo_ Renaissance, the _rejas_ plateresque, and the general decoration of columns, etc., of the most lavish grotesque.

This in itself is no sin, neither artistic nor ethical, as long as the _religious awe_ comes home to the Spaniard, for whom these cathedrals are intended. Besides, it is an open question whether the monotony of a pure style be nobler than a luxurious moulding together of all styles. The whole question is, do the different parts harmonize, or do they produce a _criard_ impression.

The answer in all cases is purely personal. Yet, even if unfavourable, the utility of the art demonstration must be borne in mind and considered as well. And as regards the Spaniard, the utility does exist beyond a doubt.

_Architectural Styles_

Let us now follow the art student in his task. He will determine the different styles, and, to make the matter clearer, he will employ a rhetorical figure:

There is an island in the sea. Huge breakers roar on the beach and dash against the rocky cliffs. Second, third, and fourth breakers of varying strength and energy race with the first, and are in their turn pushed relentlessly on from behind until they ripple in dying surf on the golden sands and boil in white spray in hidden clifts and caves. With the years that roll along the island is shaped according to the will of the waves.

Spain, figuratively speaking, is that island, or a peninsula off the southwestern coast of the Old World, barred from France by the impassable Pyrenees, and forming the link between Africa and Europe: the first stepping-stone for the former in its northern march, the last extremity or the rear-guard of the latter.

The breakers represent the different art movements which, born in countries where _compact_ nations were fighting energetically for an existence and for an ideal, flooded with terrible force the civilized lands of the middle ages, and sought to outdo and conquer their rivals.

These breakers were: from the east, early Christian (both Latin-Lombard and Byzantine); from the north, Gothic; from the south, Arab, or, to be more accurate, Moorish. The first two were advocates of one civilization, the Christian or Occidental; the latter was the propagandist of another, the Neo-Oriental or Mohammedan.

The Renaissance was but a second or third breaker coming from the east, which breathed new life into antiquated constructive and decorative elements by adapting them to a new religion or faith.

Later architectural forms were but the periodical revival or combination of one or another of the already existing elements.

Spain, thanks to her unique position, was the point where all these contradictory waves met in a final endeavour to crush their opponents. In Spain, Byzantine pillars fought against Lombard shafts, and Gothic pinnacles rose haughtily beside the horseshoe arch and the _arc brise_. In Spain Christianity grappled with the Islam faith and sent it bleeding back to the wilds of Africa; in Spain the polygon, circle, and square struggled for supremacy and lost their personality in the complex blending of the one with the other, and minarets, cupolas, and spires combined in bizarre fantasy and richness of decoration to serve the ambitions of mighty prelates, fanatic kings, and death-fearing noblemen.

* * * * *

Such is, rhetorically speaking, the history of architecture of Spain. Cathedrals had a _cachet_ of their own, either national (in certain characteristics) or else local. But the elements of which they were composed were foreign. That is, excepting in the case of Spanish-Moorish art.

Moorish art! In the second volume (Southern Spain), the author of these lines will dedicate several paragraphs to the art of the Moors in Spain. Suffice to assert in the present chapter the following statements.

(1) Moorish art in Spain is peculiar to the Arabs who inhabited the peninsula during seven hundred years. Consequently this art, born on Iberian soil, cannot be regarded as foreign.

(2) Much of what is called Moorish art owes its existence to the Christians, to the Muzarabs and Jews who inhabited cities which were dependent upon or belonged to the Moors. In the same way, much of the Oriental taste of the Spanish Christians was inherited from the Moors and received in Spain the generic name of _Mudejar_.

(3) The art of the Moors, though largely used in Spain, especially in the south, rarely entered into cathedral structures, though often noticeable in churches, cloisters, and in decorative motives.

(4) The Moors learnt more art motives in Spain than they introduced into the country.

These and many other points of interest will have to be neglected in the present chapter. For the cathedrals of the north are (as regards the ideal which brought about their erection) radically opposed to Moorish art.

Prehistoric Roman and Visigothic (?) art are equally unimportant in this study, as neither the one nor the other constructed any Christian temple standing to-day. That is to say, cathedral; for Visigothic or early Latin and Byzantine Romanesque churches do exist in Asturias, and a notable specimen in Venta de Banos. They are peculiarly strange edifices, and it is to be regretted that they are not cathedrals, for their study would be most interesting, not only as regards Iberian art, but above all as regards the history of art in the middle ages. So far, they have been completely neglected, and, unfortunately, are but little known abroad.

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ROMANESQUE.--The origin of Romanesque is greatly discussed. Some attribute it to Italy, others to France; others again are of the conviction that all Christian (religious) art previous to the birth of Gothic is Romanesque, etc., etc. The most plausible theory is that the style in question evolved out of the early Latin-Christian (basilique) style, at the same time borrowing many decorative details from the Byzantine-Christian style.

In Spain, pre-Romanesque Christian architecture (or Visigothic) shows decided Byzantine influence, more so, probably, than in any other European country. This peculiarity influences also Romanesque, both early and late. It is not strange, either, considering that an important colony of _Bizantinos_ (Christians) settled in Eastern Andalusia during the Visigothic period.

In the tenth century churches, and in the eleventh cathedrals, commenced to be erected in Northern Spain. Byzantine influence was very marked in the earlier monuments.

Was Romanesque a foreign style? Was it introduced from Italy or France, or was it a natural outcome or evolutionary product of decadent early Christian architecture? In the latter case there is no saying where it evolved, possibly to the north or to the south of the Pyrenees, possibly to the east or to the west of the Alps. What is more, the Pyrenees in those days did not serve as a strict frontier line like to-day; on the contrary, both Navarra and Aragon extended beyond the mountainous wall, and the dukes of Southern France occasionally possessed immense territories and cities to the south of the Pyrenees.

Be that as it may, Romanesque, as a style, first dawned in Spain in the tenth and eleventh centuries. Its birth coincided with that of the popular religious crusade against the Moor who had inhabited the peninsula during four centuries; it coincided also with the great church-erecting period of Northern Spanish history, when the Alfonsos of Castile created bishoprics (to aid them in their political ambitions) as easily as they broke inconvenient treaties and savagely murdered friends, relatives, and foes alike. Consequently, many were the Romanesque cathedrals erected, and though the greater part were destroyed later and replaced by Gothic structures, several fine specimens of the former style are still to be seen.

Needless to say, Romanesque became localized; in other words, it acquired certain characteristics restricted to determined regions. Galician Romanesque and that of Western Castile, for instance, are almost totally different in aspect: the former is exceedingly poetical and possesses carved wall decorations both rich and excellent; the latter is intensely strong and warlike, and the decorations, if employed at all, are Byzantine, or at least Oriental in taste.

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TRANSITION.--Many of the cathedrals of Galicia belong, according to several authors, to this period in which Romanesque strength evolved into primitive Gothic or ogival airiness. In another chapter a personal opinion has been emitted denying the accuracy of the above remark.

There is no typical example of Transition in Spain. Ogival changes introduced at a later date into Romanesque churches, a very common occurrence, cannot justify the classification of the buildings as Transition monuments.

Nor is it surprising that such buildings should be lacking in Spain. For Gothic did not evolve from Romanesque in the peninsula, but was introduced from France. A short time after its first appearance it swept all before it, thanks to the Cluny monks, and was exclusively used in church-building. In a strict sense it stands, moreover, to reason that the former (Transition) can only exist there where a new style emerges from an old without being introduced from abroad.

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OGIVAL ART.--The thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries are, properly speaking, those of the great northern art wave which spread rapidly through the peninsula, bending all before its irresistible will. Romanesque churches were destroyed or modified (the introduction of an ambulatory in almost all Romanesque buildings), and new cathedrals sprung up, called into existence by the needs and requirements of a new people, a conquering, Christian people, driving the infidel out of the land, and raising the Holy Cross on the sacred monuments of the Islam religion.

The changements introduced into the new style tended to give it a more severe and defiant exterior appearance than in northern churches,--a scarcity of windows and flying buttresses, timidly pointed arches, and solid towers. Besides, round-headed arches (vaultings and horizontal lines) were indiscriminately used to break the vertical tendency of pure ogival; so also were Byzantine cupolas and domes.

The solemn, cold, and naked cathedral church of Alcala de Henares is a fine example of the above. Few people would consider it to belong to the same class as the eloquent cathedral of Leon and the no less imposing see of Burgos. Nevertheless, it is, every inch of it, as pure Gothic as the last named, only, it is essentially Spanish, the other two being French; it bears the sombre _cachet_ of the age of Spanish Inquisition, of the fanatic intolerant age of the Catholic kings.

* * * * *

LATER STYLES.--Toward the end of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth centuries, Italian Renaissance entered the country and drove Gothic architecture out of the minds of artists and patronizing prelates.

But Italian Renaissance failed to impress the Spaniard, whose character was opposed to that of his Mediterranean cousin; so also was the general aspect of his country different from that of Italy. Consequently, it is not surprising that we should find very few pure Renaissance monuments on the peninsula. On the other hand, Spanish Renaissance--a florid form of the Italian--is frequently to be met with; in its severest form it is called _plateresco_.

In the times of Philip II., Juan Herrero created his style (Escorial), of which symmetry, grandeur in size, and poverty in decoration were the leading characteristics. The reaction came, however, quickly, and Churriguera introduced the most astounding and theatrical grotesque imaginable.

The later history of Spanish architecture is similar to that of the rest of Europe. As it is, the period which above all interests us here is that reaching from the eleventh to the sixteenth centuries, embracing Romanesque, ogival, and plateresque styles. Of the cathedrals treated of in this volume, all belong to either of the two first named architectural schools, excepting those of Valladolid, Madrid, and, to a certain extent, the new cathedral of Salamanca and that of Segovia.

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MUDEJAR ART.--Previous to the advent of Italian Renaissance in Spain, a new art had been created which was purely national, having been born on the peninsula as the complex product of Christian and Islam elements. This art, known by the generic name of _Mudejar_, received a mortal blow at the hands of the new Italian art movement. Consequently, the only school which might have been regarded as Spanish, degenerated sadly, sharing the fate of the new-born nation.

Rather than a constructive style, the _Mudejar_ or Spanish style is decorative. With admirable variety and profusion it ornamented brick surfaces by covering them with reliefs, either geometrical (Moorish) or Gothic, either sunk into the wall or else the latter cut around the former.

The aspect of these _Mudejar_ buildings is peculiar. In a ruddy plain beneath a dazzling blue sky, these red brick churches gleam thirstily from afar. Shadows play among the reliefs, lending them strength and vigour; the _alminar_ tower stands forth prominently against the sky and contrasts delightfully with the cupola raised on the apse or on the _croisee_.

Among the finest examples of _Mudejar_ art, must be counted the brilliantly coloured ceilings, such as are to be seen in Alcala, Toledo, and elsewhere. These _artesonados_, without being Moorish, are, nevertheless, of a pronounced Oriental taste. A geometrical pattern is carved on the wood of the ceiling and brilliantly painted. Prominent surfaces are preferably golden in hue, and such as are sunk beneath the level are red or blue. The effect is dazzling.

Unluckily, but little attention has been paid out of Spain to _Mudejar_ art, and it is but little known. Even Spanish critics do not agree as to the national significance of this art, and it is a great pity, as unfortunately the country can point to no other art phenomena and claim them to be Spanish. How can it, when the nation had not as yet been born, and, once born, was to die almost simultaneously, like a moth that flies blindly and headlong into an intense flame?

IV