Chapter VI: Conclusion (1)

Spain geographically can be roughly divided into two parts, a northern and southern, separated by a mountain chain, composed of the Sierras de Guaderrama, Gredos, and Gata to the north of Madrid.

Such a division does not, however, explain the historical development of the Christian kingdoms from the eighth to the fifteenth centuries, nor is it advisable to adopt it for an architectural study.

During the great period of church-building, the nine kingdoms of Spain formed four distinct groups: Galicia, Asturias, Leon, and Castile; Navarra and Aragon; Barcelona and Valencia; Andalusia.

The first group gradually evolved until Castile absorbed the remaining three kingdoms, and later Andalusia as well; the second and third groups succumbed to the royal house of Aragon.

From an architectural point of view, there are three groups, or even four: Castile, Aragon, the Mediterranean coast-line, and Andalusia. In the last three the Oriental influence is far more pronounced than in the first named.

Further, Spain is divided into nine archbishoprics: four corresponding to Castile (Santiago, Burgos, Valladolid, and Toledo); one to Aragon (Zaragoza); two to the Mediterranean coast (Tarragon and Valencia); and two to Andalusia (Sevilla and Granada).

It was the author's object to preserve as far as possible in the following chapters and in the general subdivision of his work, not only the geographical, but the historical, architectural, and ecclesiastical divisions as well. Better still, he sacrificed the first when incompatible with the latter three.

But--and here the difficulty arose--what title should be chosen for each of the two volumes which were to be dedicated to Spain? Because two volumes were necessary, considering the eighty odd cathedrals to be described.

"Cathedrals of Northern Spain" as opposed to "Cathedrals of Southern Spain"--was one of the titles. "Gothic cathedrals of Spain"--as opposed to "Moorish Cathedrals of Spain"--was another; the latter had to be discarded, as only one Moorish mezquita converted into a Christian temple exists to-day, namely, that of Cordoba.

There remained, therefore, the first title.

The first volume, discarding Navarra and Aragon (in the north), is dedicated to Castile, as well as its four archbishoprics.

The narrow belt of land, running from east to west, from Cuenca to Coria, to the south of the Sierra de Guaderrama, and constituting the archbishopric of Toledo, has been added to the region lying to the north and to the northwest of Madrid.

Moreover, to aid the reader, the present volume has been divided into parts, namely: Galicia, the North, and Castile; the latter has been subdivided into western and eastern, making in all four divisions.

(1) _Galicia._ Santiago de Campostela is, from an ecclesiastical point of view, all Galicia. Thanks to this spirit, the entire region shows a decided uniformity in the style of its churches, for that of Santiago (Romanesque) served as a pattern or model to be adopted in the remaining sees. The character of the people is no less uniform, and the Celtic inheritance of poetry has drifted into the monuments of the Christian religion.

The episcopal see of Oviedo falls under the jurisdiction of Santiago; the Gothic cathedral shows no Romanesque motives excepting the Camara Sagrada, and has therefore been included in--

(2) _The North._ With the exception of Oviedo, all the bishoprics in this group fall under the jurisdiction of the Archbishop of Burgos. The two finest Gothic temples in Northern Spain pertain to this group: Burgos and Leon.

There is, however, but little uniformity in this northern region, for Santander and Vitoria have but little in common with the remaining sees.

(3) _Western Castile._ A certain degree of uniformity is seen to exist among the sees of Western Castile, namely, the warlike appearance of the Byzantine Romanesque edifices. Besides, the use of sandstone and brick is here universal, and the immense plain of Old Castile to the north of the Sierra de Gata, and of Northern Extremadura to the south of the same range, have a peculiar ruddy aspect, dry and Oriental (African?), that is perfectly delightful.

The sees to the north of the mentioned mountain chain belong to Valladolid; those of the south to Toledo.

(4) _Eastern Castile_ extends from Valladolid in the north (archbishopric) to Toledo in the south (archbishopric), from Avila in the west to Sigueenza in the east, and to Cuenca in the extreme southeast of New Castile.

* * * * *

In the middle ages the Christian kings of Asturias (Galicia?) grew more and more powerful, and their territory stretched out to the south and to the east.

On the Mino River, Tuy and Orense were frontier towns, to populate which, bishoprics were erected. To the south of Oviedo, and almost on a line with the two Galician towns, Astorga, Leon and Burgos were strongly fortified, and formed an imaginary line to the north of which ruled Christian monarchs, and to the south Arab emirs.

Burgos at the same time served as fortress-town against the rival kings of Navarra to the north and east; the latter, on the other hand, fortified the Rioja against Castile until at last it fell into the hands of the latter. Then Burgos, no longer a frontier town, grew to be capital of the new-formed kingdom of Castile.

Slowly, but surely, the Arabs moved southwards, followed by the implacable line of Christian fortresses. At one time Valladolid, Palencia, Toro, and Zamora formed this line. When Toledo was conquered it was substituted by Coria, Plasencia, Sigueenza, and, slightly to the north, by Madrid, Avila, Segovia, and Salamanca. At the same time Sigueenza, Segovia, Soria, and Logrono formed another strategic line of fortifications against Aragon, whilst in the west Plasencia, Coria, Toro and Zamora, Tuy, Orense, and Astorga kept the Portuguese from Castilian soil. In the extreme southwest Cuenca, impregnable and highly strategical, looked eastwards and southwards against the Moor, and northwards against the Aragonese.

In all these links of the immense strategical chain which protected Castile from her enemies, the monarchs were cunning enough to erect sees and appoint warrior-bishops. They even donated the new fortress-cities with special privileges or _fueros_, in virtue of which settlers came from all parts of the country to inhabit and constitute the new municipality.

Such--in gigantic strides--is the story of most of Castile's world-famed cities. In each chapter, dates, anecdotes, and more details are given, with a view to enable the reader to become acquainted not only with the ecclesiastical history of cities like Burgos and Valladolid, but also with the causes which produced the growing importance of each see, as well as its decadence within the last few centuries.

_PART II_

_Galicia_

I

SANTIAGO DE CAMPOSTELA

When the Christian religion was still young, St. James the Apostle--he whom Christ called his brother--landed in Galicia and roamed across the northern half of the Iberian peninsula dressed in a pilgrim's modest garb and leaning upon a pilgrim's humble staff. After years of wandering from place to place, he returned to Galicia and was beheaded by the Romans, his enemies.

This legend--or truth--has been poetically interwoven with other legends of Celtic origin, until the whole story forms what Brunetiere would call a _cycle chevaleresque_ with St. James--or Santiago--as the central hero.

According to one of these legends, it would appear that the apostle was persecuted by his great enemy Lupa, a woman of singular beauty whom the ascetic pilgrim had mortally offended. Thanks to certain accessory details, it is possible to assume that Lupa is the symbol of the "God without a name" of Celtic mythology, and it is she who finally venges herself by decapitating the pilgrim saint.

The disciples of St. James laid his corpse in a cart, together with the executioner's axe and the pilgrim's staff. Two wild bulls were then harnessed to the vehicle, and away went cart and saint. As night fell and the moon rose over the vales of Galicia, the weary animals stopped on the summit of a wooded hill in an unknown vale, surrounded by other hillocks likewise covered with foliage and verdure.

The disciples buried the saint, together with axe and staff, and there they left him with the secret of his burial-ground.

This must have happened in the first or second century of the Christian era. Six hundred years later, and one hundred years after the Moors had landed in Andalusia, one Theodosio, Bishop of Iria (Galicia), took a walk one day in his wide domains accompanied by a monk. Together they lost their way and roamed about till night-fall, when they found themselves far from home.

Stars twinkled in the heavens as they do to this day. Being tired, the bishop and his companion dreamt as they walked along--at least it appears so from what followed--and the stars were so many miraculous lights which led the wanderers on and on. At last the stars remained motionless above a wooded hill standing isolated in a beautiful vale. The prelate stopped also, and it occurred to him to dig, for he attributed his dreams to a supernatural miracle. Digging, a coffin was revealed to him, and therein the saintly remains of St. James or Santiago.

Giving thanks to Him who guides all steps, Theodosio returned to Iria, and, by his orders, a primitive basilica was erected some years later on the very spot where the saint had been buried, and in such a manner as to place the high altar just above the coffin. A crypt was then dug out and lined with mosaic, and the coffin, either repaired or renewed, was laid therein,--some say it was visible to the hordes of pilgrims in the tenth and eleventh centuries.

The shrine was then called Santiago de Campostela.--Santiago, which means St. James, and Campostela, field of stars, in memory of the miraculous lights the Bishop of Iria and his companion had perceived whilst sweetly dreaming.

The news of the discovery spread abroad with wonderful rapidity. Monasteries, churches, and inns soon surrounded the basilica, and within a few years a village and then a city (the bishop's see was created previous to 842 A. D.) filled the vale, which barely fifty years earlier had been an undiscovered and savage region.

Throughout the middle ages, from the eleventh to the fifteenth centuries, Santiago de Campostela was the scene of pilgrimages--not to say crusades--to the tomb of St. James. From France, Italy, Germany, and England hundreds and thousands of men, women, and children wandered to the Galician valley, then one of the foci of ecclesiastical significance and industrial activity. The city, despite its local character, wore an international garb, much to the benefit of Galician, even Spanish, arts and literature. It is a pity that so little research has been made concerning these pilgrimages and the influences they brought to bear on the history of the country. A book treating of this subject would be a highly interesting account of one of the most important movements of the middle ages.

The Moors under Almanzor pillaged the city of Santiago in 999; then they retreated southwards, as was their wont. The Norman vikings also visited the sacred vale, attracted thither by the reports of its wealth; but they also retreated, like the waves of the sea when the tide goes out.

After the last Arab invasion, an extemporaneous edifice was erected in place of the shrine which had been demolished. It did not stand long, however, for the Christian kings of Spain, whose dominions were limited to Asturias, Leon, and Galicia, ordered the construction of a building worthy of St. James, who was looked upon as the god of battles, much like St. George in England.

So in 1078 the new cathedral, the present building, was commenced, and, as the story runs, it was built around the then existing basilica, which was left standing until after the vault of the new edifice had been closed.

The history of Spain at this moment helped to increase the religious importance of Santiago. The kingdom of Asturias (Oviedo) had stretched out beyond its limits and died; the Christian nuclei were Galicia, Leon, and Navarra. In these three the power of the noblemen, and consequently of the bishops and archbishops, was greater than it had ever been before. Each was lord or sovereign in his own domains, and fought against his enemies with or without the aid of the infidel Arab armies, which he had no compunction in inviting to help him against his Christian brothers. Now and again a king managed to subdue these aristocratic lords and ecclesiastical prelates, but only for a short time. Besides, nowhere was the independent spirit of the noblemen more accentuated than in Galicia; nowhere were the prelates so rebellious as in Santiago, the Sacred City, and none attained a greater height of personal power and wealth than Diego Galmirez, the first archbishop of Santiago, and one of the most striking and interesting personalities of Spanish history in the twelfth century, to whom Santiago owes much of her glory, and Spain not little of her future history.

The twelfth and thirteenth centuries were thus the period of Santiago's greatest fame and renown. Little by little the central power of the monarchs went southwards to Castile and Andalusia, and little by little Santiago declined and dwindled in importance, until to-day it is one city more of those that have been and are no longer.

For the city's history is that of its cathedral, of its shrine. With the birth of Protestantism and the death of feudal power, both city and cathedral lost their previous importance: they had sprung into life together, and the existence of the one was intricately interwoven with that of the other.

* * * * *

The stranger who visits Santiago to-day does not approach it fervently by the Mount of Joys as did the footsore pilgrims in the middle ages. On the contrary, he steps out of the train and hurries to the cathedral church, which sadly seems to repeat the thoughts of the city itself, or the words of Senor Muguira:

"To-day, what am I? An echo of the joys and pains of hundreds of generations; a distant rumour both confused and undefinable, a last sunbeam fading at evening and dying on the glassy surface of sleeping waters. Never will man learn my secrets, never will he be able to open my granite lips and oblige them to reveal the mysterious past."

As is generally known, the cathedral is a Romanesque building of the eleventh and twelfth centuries mutilated by posterior additions and recent ameliorations (_sic_). It was begun in 1078, and, though finished about 150 years later, no ogival elements drifted into the construction until long after its completion. As will be seen later on, it served as the model for most of Galicia's cathedrals. On the other hand, it is generally believed to be an imitation--as regards the general disposition--of St. Saturnin in Toulouse: a combatable theory, however, as the churches were contemporaneous.

Seen from the outside, the Cathedral of Santiago lacks harmony; few remains of the primitive structure are to be discovered among the many later-date additions and reforms. The base of the towers and some fine blinded windows, with naive low reliefs in the semicircular tympanum, will have to be excepted.

The Holy Door--a peculiarly placed apsidal portal on the eastern front--is built up of decorative elements saved from the northern and western facades when they were torn down.

The best portal is the Puerta de la Plateria, opening into the southern arm of the transept. It is, unluckily, depressed and thrown into the background by the cloister walls on the left, and by the Trinity Tower on the right. Nevertheless, both handsome and sober, it can be counted among the finest examples of its kind--pure Romanesque--in Spain, and is rendered even more attractive by the peculiar Galician poetry which inspired its sculptors.

Immediately above the panels of the door, which are covered with twelfth-century metal reliefs, there is a stone plaque or low relief, representing the Passion scene; to the left of it is to be seen a kneeling woman holding a skull in her hand. Evidently it is a weeping, penitent Magdalene. The popular tongue has invented a legend--perhaps a true one--concerning this woman, who is believed to symbolize the adulteress. It appears that a certain hidalgo, discovering his wife's sins, killed her lover by cutting off his head; he then obliged her to kiss and adore the skull twice daily throughout her life,--a rather cruel punishment and a slow torture, quite in accordance with the mystic spirit of the Celts.

The apse of the church, circular in the interior, is squared off on the outside by the addition of chapels. As regards the plateresque northern and western facades, they are out of place, though the former might have passed off elsewhere as a fairly good example of the severe sixteenth-century style.

The general plan of the building is Roman cruciform; the principal nave is high, and contains both choir and high altar; the two aisles are much lower and darker, and terminate behind the high altar in an ambulatory walk. The width of the transept is enormous, and is composed of a nave and two aisles similar in size to those of the body of the church. The _croisee_ is surmounted by a dome, which, though not Romanesque, is certainly an advantageous addition.

Excepting the high altar with its _retablo_, the choir with its none too beautiful stalls, and the various chapels of little interest and less taste, the general view of the interior is impressively beautiful. The height of the central nave, rendered more elegant by the addition of a handsome Romanesque triforium of round-headed arches, contrasts harmoniously with the sombre aisles, whereas the bareness of the walls--for all mural paintings were washed away by a bigoted prelate somewhere in the fifteenth century--helps to show off to better advantage the rich sculptural decorations, leaf and floral designs on capitals and friezes.

The real wonder of the cathedral is the far-famed Portico de la Gloria, the vestibule or narthex behind the western entrance of the church, and as renowned as its sculptural value is meritorious.

So much has already been written concerning this work of art that really little need be mentioned here. Street, who persuaded the British Government to send a body of artists to take a plaster copy of this strange work, could not help declaring that: "I pronounce this effort of Master Mathews at Santiago to be one of the greatest glories of Christian art."

And so it is. Executed in the true Romanesque period, each column and square inch of surface covered with exquisite decorative designs, elaborated with care and not hastily, as was the habit of later-day artists, the three-vaulted rectangular vestibule between the body of the church and the western extremity where the light streams in through the rose window, is an immense allegory of the Christian religion, of human life, and above all of the mystic, melancholy poetry of Celtic Galicia. Buried in half-lights, this song of stone with the statue of the Trinity and St. James, with the angels blowing their trumpets from the walls, and the virtues and vices of this world symbolized by groups and by persons, is of a sincere poetry that leaves a lasting impression upon the spectator. Life, Faith, and Death, Judgment and Purgatory, Hell and Paradise or Glory, are the motives carved out in stone in this unique narthex, so masterful in the execution, and so vivid in the tale it tells, that we can compare its author to Dante, and call the Portico de la Gloria the "Divina Commedia" of architecture.

At one end there is the figure of a kneeling man, the head almost touching the ground in the body's fervent prostration in front of the group representing Glory, Trinity, and St. James. Is it a twelfth-century pilgrim whom the artist in a moment of realistic enthusiasm has portrayed here, in the act of praying to his Creator and invoking his mercy? Or is it the portrait of the artist, who, even after death, wished to live in the midst of the wonders of his creation? It is not positively known, though it is generally supposed to be Maestro Mateo himself, kneeling in front of his Glory, admiring it as do all visitors, and watching over it as would a mother over her son.

If the chapels which surround the building have been omitted on account of their artistic worthlessness, not the same fate awaits the cloister.

Of a much later date than the cathedral itself, having been constructed in the sixteenth century, it is a late Gothic monument betraying Renaissance additions and mixtures; consequently it is entirely out of place and time here, and does not harmonize with the cathedral. Examined as a detached edifice, it impresses favourably as regards the height and length of the galleries, which show it to be one of the largest cloisters in Spain.

The cathedral's crypt is one of its most peculiar features, and certainly well worth examining better than has been heretofore done. It is reached by a small door behind the high altar (evidently used when the saint's coffin was placed on grand occasions on the altar-table) or by a subterranean gallery leading down from the Portico de la Gloria, a gallery as rich in sculptural decorations as the vestibule itself.

The popular belief in Galicia is that in this crypt the cathedral reflects itself, towers and all, as it would in the limpid surface of a lake. Hardly; and yet the crypt is a nude copy of the ground floor above, with the corresponding naves and aisles and apsidal chapels. The height of the crypt is surprising, the architectural construction is pure Romanesque,--more so than that of the building itself,--and just beneath the high altar the shrine of St. James is situated where it was found in the ninth century.

II

CORUNNA

Corunna, seated on her beautiful bay, the waters of which are ever warmed by the Gulf Stream, gazes out westwards across the turbulent waves of the ocean as she has done for nearly two thousand years.

Brigandtia was her first known name, a centre of the Celtic druid religion. The inhabitants of the town, it is to-day believed, communicated by sea with their brethren in Ireland long before the coming of the Phoenicians and Greeks who established a trading post and a tin factory, and built the Tower of Hercules.

The Roman conquest saved Brigandtium from being great before her time. For the Latin people were miserable sailors, and gazed with awe into the waves of the Atlantic. For them Brigandtia was the last spot in the world, a dangerous spot, to be shunned. So they left her seated on her beautiful bay beside the Torre de Hercules, and made Lugo their capital.

In the shuffling of bishops and sees in the fifth and sixth centuries, Corunna was forgotten. Unimportant, known only for its castle and its tower, it passed a useless existence, patiently waiting for a change in its favour.

This change came in the fifteenth century as a result of the discovery of America. Since then, and with varying success, the city has grown in importance, until to-day it is the most wealthy and active of Galicia's towns, and one of the largest seaports on Spain's Atlantic coast.

Its history since the sixteenth century is well known, especially to Englishmen, who, whenever their country had a rupture with Spain, were quick in entering Corunna's bay. From here part of the Invincible Armada sailed one day to fight the Saxons and to be destroyed by a tempest; ten years later England returned the challenge with better luck, and her fleets entered the historical bay and burned the town. During the war with Napoleon, General Moore fought the French in the vicinity and lost his life, whereas a few years earlier an English fleet defeated, just outside the bay, a united French and Spanish squadron.

To-day, the old city on the hill looks down upon the new one below; the former is poetic and artistic, the latter is straight-lined, industrial, and modern. Nevertheless, the aspect of the city denies its age, for it is more modern than many cities that are younger. What is more, tradition does not weigh heavily on its brow, and depress its inhabitants, as is the case in Lugo and Tuy and Santiago. The movement on the wharves, the continual coming and going of vessels of all sizes, commerce, industry, and other delights of modern civilization do not give the citizens leisure to ponder over the city's two thousand years, nor to preoccupy themselves about art problems. Moreover, the tourist who has come to Spain to visit Toledo and Sevilla hurries off inland, gladly leaving Corunna's streets to sailors and to merchants.

There are, nevertheless, two churches well worth a visit; one is the Colegiata (supposed to have been a bishopric for a short time in the thirteenth century) or suffragan church, and the other the Church of Santiago. The latter has a fine Romanesque portal of the twelfth century, reminding one in certain decorative details of the Portico de la Gloria in Santiago. The interior of the building consists of one nave or aisle spanned by a daring vault, executed in the early ogival style; doubtless it was originally Romanesque, as is evidently shown by the capitals of the pillars, and was most likely rebuilt after the terrible fire which broke out early in the sixteenth century.

Santa Maria del Campo is the name of the suffragan church dedicated to the Virgin. The church itself was erected to a suffragan of Santiago in 1441. The date of its erection is doubtful, some authors placing it in the twelfth and others in the thirteenth century. Street, whom we can take as an intelligent guide in these matters, calls it a twelfth-century church, contemporaneous with and perhaps even built by the same architect who built that of Santiago de Campostela. Moreover, the mentioned critic affirms this in spite of a doubtful inscription placed in the vault above the choir, which accuses the building of having been completed in 1307.

The primitive plan of the church was doubtless Romanesque, of one nave and two aisles. As in Mondonedo and Lugo, the former is surmounted by an ogival vault, and the aisles, lower in height, are somewhat depressed by the use of Romanesque _plein-cintre_ vaultings. The form of the building is that of a Roman cross with rather short arms; the apse consists of but one chapel, the lady-chapel. As regards the light, it is horrible, for the window in the west is insignificant and, what is more, has recently been blinded, though only Heaven knows why. The towers emerging from the western front are unmeaning, and not similar, which detracts from the harmony of the whole. As regards the different facades, the western has been spoilt quite recently; the northern and southern are, however, Romanesque, though not pure, as ogival arches are used in the decoration of the tympanum.

In other words, the Church of Santiago at Corunna is more important, from an archaeological point of view, than the Colegiata. The fishing folk do not think so, however; they care but little for such secondary details, and their veneration is entirely centred in the suffragan church--"one of the three Virgins," as they call her to whom it is dedicated. To them this particular Mary is the _estrella del mar_ (sea star), and she is the principal object of their devotion. It is strange--be it said in parenthesis--how frequently in Galicia mention is made of stars: they form a most important feature of the country's superstitions. Blood will out--and Celtic mythology peeps through the Christian surface in spite of centuries of true belief.

III

MONDONEDO

A Village grown to be a city, and yet a village. A city without history or tradition, and a cathedral that has been spoilt by the hand of time, and above all by the hands of luckless artists called upon to rebuild deteriorated parts.

To the north of Lugo, at a respectable distance from the railway which runs from the latter to Corunna, and reached either by means of a stage or on horseback, Mondonedo passes a sleeping existence in a picturesque vale surrounded by the greenest of hills. Rarely bothered by the tourist who prefers the train to the stage, it procures for the art lover many moments of delight--that is, if he will but take the trouble to visit the cathedral, the two towers of which loom up in the vale, and though rather too stumpy to be able to lend elegance to the ensemble, add a poetic charm to the valley and to the village itself.

How on earth did it ever occur to any one to raise the church at Mondonedo to a bishopric? Surely the sees in Galicia were badly shuffled; and yet, where can a quieter spot be found in this wide world of ours for the contemplation of a cathedral--and a Romanesque one, to boot!

It is to the Norman vikings that is due the establishment of a see in this lonely valley. Until the sixth century it had been situated in Mindunietum of the Romans, when it was removed to Ribadeo, remaining there until late in the twelfth century. Both these towns were seaports, and both suffered from the cruel incursions and piratical expeditions of the vikings, and so after the total pillage of the church in Ribadeo, the see was removed inland out of harm's way, to a village known by the name of Villamayor or Mondonedo. There it has remained till the present day, ignored by the tourist who "has no time," and who follows the beaten track established by Messrs. Cook and Company, in London.

As will have been seen, Mondonedo is a city without history, and without a past; doubtless it will for ever remain a village without a future. Its doings, its _raison d'etre_, are summed up in the cathedral that stands in its centre, just as in Santiago, though from different motives.

It is, perhaps, the most picturesque spot in Galicia, a gently sloping landscape buried in a violet haze, reminding one of Swiss valleys in the quiet Jura. Besides, the streets are silent and often deserted, the village inn or _fonda_ is neither excellent nor very bad, and as for the villagers, they are happy, simple, and hospitable dawdlers along the paths of this life.

According to a popular belief, the life of one man, a bishop named Don Martin (1219-48), is wrapped up in Mondonedo's cathedral, so much so, in fact, that both their lives are one and the same. He began building his see; he saw it finished and consecrated it--_construxit, consumavit et consacravit_; then he died, but the church and his name lived on.

Modern art critics disagree with the above belief; the older or primitive part of the church dates from the twelfth and not from the thirteenth century. Originally, as can easily be seen upon examining the older part of the building, it was a pure Romanesque basilica, the nave and the two aisles running up to the transept, where they were cut off, and immediately to the east of the latter came the apse with three chapels, the lady-chapel being slightly larger than the lateral ones.

In the primitive construction of the building--and excepting all later-date additions, of which there are more than enough--early Gothic and Romanesque elements are so closely intermingled that one is perforce obliged to consider the monument as belonging to the period of Transition, as being, perhaps, a unique example of this period to be met with in Galicia or even in Spain. Of course, as in the case of the other Galician cathedrals, the original character of the interior, which if it had remained unaltered would be both majestic and imposing, has been greatly deformed by the addition of posterior reforms. The form of the apse has been completely changed by the introduction of an ambulatory or circular apsidal aisle dating at least from the fifteenth century, as shown by the presence of the late Gothic and Renaissance elements.

The general plan is rectangular, 120 feet long by seventy-one wide, and seen from the outside is solid rather than elegant, a fortress rather than a temple. The height of the nave, crowned by a Gothic vaulting, is about forty-five feet; a triforium (ogival) runs around the top. The lateral aisles are slightly more than half as high and covered by a Romanesque vaulting reposing on capitals and shafts of the finest twelfth century execution.

The original basilica form of the church has, unluckily, been altered by the additional length given to the arms of the transept, and, as mentioned already, by the ambulatory walk characteristic of Spanish cathedrals; the workmanship of the latter, though lamentably out of tune in this old cathedral, is, taken by itself, better than many similar additions in other churches.

The western facade, which is the only one worthy of contemplation, is as good an example of Romanesque, spoilt by the addition at a recent date of grotesque and bizarre figures and monsters, as can be seen anywhere.

The buttresses are more developed than in either Lugo or Santiago, and though these bodies, from a decorative point of view, were evidently intended to give a certain seal of elegance to the ensemble, the stunted towers and the few windows in the body of the church only help to heighten its fortress-like aspect.

In a previous paragraph it has been stated that this cathedral is perhaps a unique example of the period of Transition (Romanesque and early Gothic). It is an opinion shared by many art critics, but personally the author of these lines is inclined to consider it as an example of the Galician conservative spirit, and of the fight that was made in cathedral chapters _against_ the introduction of early Gothic. For the temple at Santiago was Romanesque; therefore, according to the narrow reasoning peculiar to Galicia, that style was the _best_ and consequently _good enough_ for any other church. As a result, we have in this region of Spain a series of cathedrals which are practically Romanesque, but into the structure of which ogival elements have filtered. Further, as there is no existing example of a finished Gothic church in Galicia, it is rather difficult to speak of a period of Transition, by which is meant the period of passing from one style to another. In Galicia, there was no passing: the conservative spirit of the country, the poetry of the Celtic inhabitants, and above all of their artists, found greater pleasure in Romanesque than in Gothic, and consequently the cathedrals are Romanesque, with slight Gothic additions, when these could combine or submit in arrangement to the heavier Romanesque principles of architecture.

Later, in other centuries, the spirit of architecture had completely died out in Spain, and the additions made in these days are so many lamentable signs of decadence. Not so the ogival introduction in Romanesque churches, which in many cases improved the Romanesque appearance.

IV

LUGO

What Santiago was as regards ecclesiastical politics, Lugo, one of the three cities on the Mino River, was as regards civil power. It was the nominal capital of Galicia, and at one time, in the reign of Alfonso the Chaste, it was intended to make it the capital of the nascent Spanish kingdom, but for some reason or other Oviedo was chosen instead as being more suitable. Since then the city of Lugo has completely fallen into ruins and insignificance.

It first appears in history when the Romans conquered it from the Celts. It was their capital and their Holy City; in its centre was Lupa's Bower, where the Romans built a magnificent temple to Diana. Some mosaics of this edifice have been discovered recently, and the peculiar designs prove beyond a doubt that the mythological attributions of the Celts were made use of and intermingled with those of the Latin race--not at all a strange occurrence, as Lupa and Diana seem to have enjoyed many common qualities.

Under the Roman rule, the city walls, remains of which are still standing in many places, were erected, and Locus Augusti became the capital of the northern provinces.

All through the middle ages, when really Oviedo had usurped its civil, and Santiago its religious significance, Lugo was still considered as being the capital of Galicia, a stronghold against Arab incursions, and a hotbed of unruly noblemen who lost no opportunity in striking a blow for liberty against the encroaching power of the neighbouring kingdom of Asturias, and later on of Leon. When at last the central power of the Christian kings was firmly established in Leon and Castile, in Lugo the famous message of adhesion to the dynasty of the Alfonsos was voted, and the kingdom of Galicia, like that of Asturias, faded away, the shadow of a name without even the right to have its coat of arms placed on the national escutcheon.

The ecclesiastical history of the city of Lugo is neither interesting nor does it differ from that of other Galician towns. Erected to a see in the fifth century, its cathedral was a primitive basilica destroyed by the Moors in one of their powerful northern raids in the eighth century. The legendary bishop Odoario lost no time in building a second basilica, which met the same fate about two hundred years later, in the tenth century. Alfonso the Chaste, one of the few kings of Asturias to take a lively interest in Galician politics, ordered either the reconstruction of the old basilica or the erection of a new temple.

Those were stormy times for the city: between the rise and stand of ambitious noblemen, who, pretending to fight for Galicia's freedom, fought for their own interests, and the continual encroachments of the proud prelates on the rights and privileges of the people, barely a year passed without Lugo being the scene of street fights or sieges. As in Santiago, one prince of the Church lost his life, murdered by the faithful (_sic_) flocks, and many, upon coming to take possession of their see, found the city gates locked in their faces, and were obliged to conquer the cathedral before entering their palace.

The new basilica suffered in consequence, and had to be entirely rebuilt in the twelfth century. The new edifice is the one standing to-day, but how changed from the primitive building! Thanks to graceless additions in all possible styles and combinations of styles, the Romanesque origin is hardly recognizable. Consequently, the cathedral church of Lugo, which otherwise might have been an architectural jewel, does not inspire the visitor with any of those sentiments that ought to be the very essence of time-worn religious edifices of all kinds.

The general disposition of the church is Roman cruciform; the arms of the cross are exceedingly short, however, in comparison to their height; the _croisee_ is surmounted by a semicircular vaulting (Spanish Romanesque).

The nave shows decided affinity to early Gothic, as shown by the ogival arches and vaulting. The presence of the ogival arches (as well as those of the handsome triforium, perhaps the most elegant in Galicia) shows this church to be the first in Galicia to have submitted to the infiltration of Gothic elements. This peculiarity is explained by the fact that, in 1129, the erection of the cathedral was entrusted to one Maestro Raimundo, who stipulated that, in the case of his death before the completion of the church, his son should be commissioned to carry on the work. He died, and his son, a generation younger and imbued with the newer architectural theories, even went so far as to alter his father's plans; he built the nave higher than was customary in Romanesque churches, and gave elegance to the whole structure by employing the pointed arch even in the triforium, otherwise a copy of that of Santiago.

The most curious and impressive part of the building is that constructed by Maestro Raimundo, father, namely the aisles, especially that part of them to the right and left of the choir; they are, with the _croisee_, the best interior remains of the primitive Romanesque plans: short, even stumpy, rather dark it is true, for the light that comes in by the narrow windows is but poor at its best, they are, nevertheless, rich in decorative designs. The wealth of sculptural ornaments of pure Romanesque in these aisles is perhaps the cathedral's best claim to the tourist's admiration, and puts it in a prominent place among the Romanesque cathedrals of Spain.

Not the same favourable opinion can be emitted when it is a question of the exterior. The towers are comparatively new; the apse--with the peculiar and salient addition of an octagonal body revealing Renaissance influence--is picturesque, it is true, but at the same time it has spoilt the architectural value of the cathedral as a Romanesque edifice.

The northern facade, preceded by an ogival porch so common in Galicia, contains a portal of greater beauty than the Puerta de la Plateria in Santiago, and stands forth in greater prominence than the other named example of twelfth-century art, by not being lost among or depressed by flanking bodies of greater height and mass. As regards the sculptural ornamentation of the door itself, it is felt and not only portrayed: the Christ standing between the immense valves of the _vesica piscis_ which crowns the portal is an example of twelfth-century sculpture. The iron-studded panels of the doors have already been praised by Street, who placed their execution likewise in the twelfth century.

Excepting this portal--a marvel in its class with its rounded tympanum richly ornamented--the portion of the building doubtless more strongly imbued than any other with the general spirit of the edifice is that part of the apse independent of the octagonal addition previously mentioned, and which is dedicated to "_La Virgen de los Ojos Grandes_"--the Virgin of the Large Eyes. (She must have been Andalusian!) Of the true apse, the lower part has ogival arched windows of singular elegance; the upper body, also semicircular in form, but slightly smaller, has round-headed windows. Both the ogival windows of the first and the Romanesque windows of the second harmonize wonderfully, thanks to the lesser height and width of the upper row. The buttresses, simple, and yet alive with a gently curving line, are well worth noticing. It is strange, nevertheless, that they should not reach the ground, but only support the upper body, and unite it with the lower, forming thus a sort of crown for the latter's benefit.

Personally--and the author must be excused if he emit his opinion--he considers the old apse of the cathedral in Lugo to be one of the finest pieces of architecture to be met with in Galicia. It belongs to what has been called the period of Transition (compare previous remarks in another chapter concerning this style), and yet it has a character of its own not to be found elsewhere, and the harmony of ogival and Romanesque has been so artfully revealed that it cannot fail to appeal to the tourist who contemplates it carefully.

V

ORENSE

Coming by rail from Lugo or Monforte toward Tuy and Vigo, the train suddenly escapes from the savage canon where the picturesque Mino rushes and boils beside the road, and emerges into a broad and fertile valley where figs, grapes, and olives grow in profusion. This valley is broad, its soil is of golden hue, and the sky above it is as brilliantly blue as a sapphire. In its centre Orense, heavy Orense, which claims as its founder a Greek hero fresh from the pages of the Iliad, basks in the sun beside the beautiful Mino; the while its cathedral looms up above the roofs of the surrounding houses.

The history of the town is as agitated as any in Galicia and shows the same general happenings. The Romans appreciated it for its sulphur baths and called it Auria (golden) from the colour of the soil, of the water, and perhaps also on account of certain grains of gold discovered in the sands of the Mino.

The Suevos, who dominated Galicia and proved so beneficial to Tuy, did not ignore the importance of Orense: one of the first bishoprics, if not _the_ first historical one in Galicia, was that of Orense, dating from before the fourth century, at least such is the opinion of to-day.

More than any other Galician city, excepting Tuy, it suffered from the Arab invasions. Entirely destroyed, razed to the ground upon two occasions, it was ever being rebuilt by the returning inhabitants who had fled. Previous to these Arab incursions the cathedral had been dedicated to St. Martin de Tours (France), and yearly pilgrimages took place to the Galician shrine, where some relics belonging to the saint were revered. But with the infidels these relics, or whatever they were, were dispersed, and the next century (the eleventh) saw the new cathedral dedicated to the Virgin Mother (?). Besides, the inhabitants seemed to have forgotten the patronage of St. Martin, he who protects the vine-grower's _metier_--and this in spite of the fact that the valley of Orense is and was famous above all Galician regions for the cultivation of vines. Even Froissart, the French historian, could not speak of the town without mentioning its wine. He passed a season in the valley, accompanying, I believe, the Duke of Lancaster and his English soldiers. The wine was so good and strong, wrote the historian, that the soldiers clamoured for it; after they had drunk a little they toppled over like ninepins.

The Arabs defeated and thrown out of the peninsula, the vikings' last business trip to Galicia over, and the Portuguese arms driven to the valley of Braga beyond the Mino, Orense settled down to a peaceful life, the monotony of which was broken now and again--as it usually was in this part of the country--by squabbles between noblemen, prelates, and the _bons bourgeois_. If no prince of the Church was killed here, as happened in Lugo, one at least died mysteriously in the hands of his enemies. Not that it seemed to have mattered much, for said bishop appears to have been a peculiar sort of spiritual shepherd, full of vice, and devoid of virtue, some of whose doings have been caricatured--according to the popular belief--in the cornices and friezes of the convent of San Francisco.

Otherwise, peace reigned in the land, and Orense passed a quiet existence, a circumstance that did not in the slightest add to its importance, either as an art, commercial, or industrial centre. To-day, full of strangers in summer, who visit the sulphurous baths as did the Romans, and empty in winter, it exists without living, as does so many a Spanish town.

Nevertheless, with Vigo and Corunna, it is one of the cities with a future still before it. At least, its situation is bound to call attention as soon as ever the country is opened up to progress and commerce.

The cathedral of Orense, like those of Tuy, Santiago, and Lugo, was erected in a _castro_. These _castros_ were circular dips in the ground, surrounded by a low wall, which served the druids as their place of worship. The erection of Christian churches in these sacred spots proves beyond a doubt that the new religion became amalgamated with the old, and even laid its foundations on the latter's most hallowed _castros_.

Perhaps the question presents itself as to why a cathedral was erected in Orense previous to any other city. From a legend it would appear that the king of the Suevos, Carrarick, had a son who was dying; thanks to the advice of a Christian monk, a disciple of St. Martin, and, one is inclined to think, fresh from Tours, the king dipped his son in the baths of Orense, invoking at the same time the help of St. Martin. Upon pulling his offspring out of the water, he discovered that he had been miraculously cured. The grateful monarch immediately became a stout Christian, and erected a basilica--destroyed and rebuilt many a time during the dark ages of feudalism and Arab invasion--in honour of his son's saviour. What is more wonderful still is that, soon afterward, the relics of the French saint were cherished in Orense without its being positively known whence they came!

The present cathedral, the date of the erection of which is a point of discussion to-day, is generally believed to have been built on the spot occupied by the primitive basilica. It is dedicated to Santa Maria la Madre according to the official (doubtful?) statement, and to St. Martin of Tours, Apostle of Gaul, according to the popular version.

The general appearance of the cathedral proclaims it to have been begun, or at least planned, in the twelfth century, and not, as Baedeker states, in 1220. As a twelfth-century church we are not obliged to consider it for more reasons than one, and especially because, as we have seen, the twelfth century was the great period of Galician church-building. It was in this century that the northwest shone forth in the history of Spain as it had not done before, nor has done since.

The church is another Romanesque specimen, but less pure in its style than any of the others mentioned so far: the ogival arch is prevalent, but rather as a decorative than as an essentially constructive element. As it is, it was commenced at least fifty years after the cathedral of Lugo, and though both are twelfth-century churches, the one is an early and the other presumably a late one; the employment of the ogival arch to a greater degree in Orense than in Lugo is thus easily explained.

In short, the cathedral of Orense is another example of the peculiar Romanesque of Galicia, which, withstanding the invasion of Gothic, created a school of its own, pretty in details, bold in harmony, though it be a hybrid school after all.

The influence of the cathedral of Santiago is self-evident in the cathedral of Orense. How could it be otherwise, when the bishop Don Diego, who sat on the chair, was a great friend and a continual visitor of that other Don Diego in Santiago who erected the primate cathedral of Galicia?

This influence is above all to be seen in the Portico del Paraiso, an interior narthex leading from the western front to the body of the church. It is a handsome area of Romanesque sculpture covered by an ogival vaulting, and would be an important monument if its rival and prototype in Santiago were not greater, both as regards its perfection of design, and the grand idea which inspired it.

Of the three doors which lead into the cathedral, the western is crowned by three rounded arches reposing on simple columns. The tympanum as a decorative element is lacking, as is also the low relief, which is usually superimposed above the upper arches. The latter are, however, carved in the most elaborate manner. As regards the other two portals, the northern and southern, their composition, as far as generalities are concerned, is the same as the western, excepting that they are surrounded by a depressed semicircular arch in relief, the whole of a primitive design.

The towers of the cathedral are not old. The general impression of the building from the outside--unluckily it cannot be contemplated from any distance, as the surrounding houses impede it--is agreeable. To be especially observed are some fine fourteenth-century (?) windows which show ogival pattern, but either of timid execution or else of a bold endeavour on the artist's part to subdue solemn Gothic to the Romanesque traditions of the country.

The interior has been restored and changed many a time. In its original plan it consisted of two aisles and a nave with a one-aisled transept, and, just as in Lugo, an apse formed by three semicircles, of which the central was the largest, and contained the high altar. To-day, though the general appearance or disposition of the church (Roman cruciform with exceedingly short lateral arms) is the same, an ambulatory walk surrounds the high altar, which has been moved nearer the transept in the principal nave. The vaulting is ogival, reposing on solid and severe shafts; the aisles are slightly lower than the central nave, and the _croisee_ is surmounted, as in Santiago, by a handsome cupola similar in construction to that of Valencia, though more reduced in size, and of a less elegant pattern.

The lack of triforium is to be noted, and its want is felt.

The northern aisle has no chapels let into its exterior wall, but a long row of sepulchres and sepulchral reliefs to replace them. Some of them are severe and beautiful. The choir has finely carved stalls, and the Gothic _retablo_ is the only one of its kind in Galicia, and one of the best in Spain.

Many more details could be given concerning the worthy cathedral of Orense, second only in richness of certain elements to that of Santiago. The additions, both in Romanesque and ogival styles, are better than in most other cathedrals in Galicia, though, as far as Renaissance is concerned, Galicia showed but little love for Italia's art. This was due to the regional Celtic taste of the inhabitants, or else to the marked signs of art decadence in this part of Spain, when the Renaissance was introduced into the country.

As regards the cloister,--small and rather compact in its composition,--it is held by many to be a jewel of the fifteenth century in the ogival style, handsome in its general outlines, and beautiful in its wealth of sculptural decoration.

VI

TUY