Chapter VI: Zaragoza 135 (2)

Next to San Pablo is the Colegio San Gregorio, built by Alonso de Burgos, Isabel the Catholic’s Confessor, in remembrance of his student days at the former establishment. The work, elaborate as it is, occupied only eight years--1488 to 1496. The architect, Matias Carpintero, for some unknown reason committed suicide before its completion in 1490. The façade of the main entrance resembles that of the older foundation. The design displays more originality, but the execution is by no means as good. The lintel and jambs of the square doorway are decorated by a relieved pattern of fleur-de-lys, and enclosed within an arched canopy of fanciful outline. On either side of the doorway are statues of wild men--possibly an allusion to the discovery of America--and over the lintel a relief represents the founder kneeling before the patron saint. From the canopy, twisted tapering pillars soar upwards and divide the upper stage into three parts. The middle one is occupied by the relief of a pomegranate tree springing from a basin, and sheltering children and birds among its branches; it supports the coat-of-arms of Ferdinand and Isabel. The lateral divisions contain figures supporting escutcheons, the whole being ‘even more extremely heraldic in its decorations’ than San Pablo. The open-work, cusping at the top, looks as if made of coarse wicker-work, and is happily fast disappearing under the corrosive effects of frost and rain. The interior of San Gregorio wearies the eye with its excess of heraldic decoration. The inner court, notwithstanding, is noble and spacious, with a double gallery of six arches on each side springing from spirally-fluted columns. The fleur-de-lys appear on the arms of the founder; the yoke and sheaf of arrows are the well-known devices of the Catholic kings. The chapel was stripped by the French of all of value that it contained, including the sepulchral effigy of Alonso de Burgos. The college is now one of the municipal buildings.

The secularised church and convent of San Benito on the west side of the town were founded by Juan I. on the site of the old Alcazar, in reparation for a Benedictine house destroyed by his father. The actual fabric was commenced in 1453, and hardly completed three centuries later. The plan of the church reminds one of Santa Maria la Antigua. The interior is lofty and impressive. There are two choirs--one in the western gallery, and the other, as usual in Spain, in the middle of the church, and enclosed by brick walls. The church was very strongly built, and is, appropriately enough, occupied by the military.

In the church of La Magdalena is buried Bishop Pedro de la Gasca, who recovered Peru for the monarchy from the clutches of Pizarro. His tomb in the centre of the transept was chiselled by Esteban Jordán in 1577.

The other churches of Valladolid hardly repay a visit. We may now turn our attention to the University, close to the Antigua Church. Founded in the eleventh century, this institution rose into importance only on the decline of the University of Salamanca. The statues of its patrons--Alfonso VIII., Alfonso XI., Juan I., and Enrique III.--surmount the grotesque and extravagant façade, which is in the worst baroque or Churrigueresque style. Older and more interesting are the English and Scots Colleges. The former was founded by Sir Francis Englefield in 1590 or thereabouts, for the education of young Englishmen for the Catholic priesthood. The Scots College is an analogous institution, founded by Colonel Sempill at Madrid in 1627, and transferred hither in 1771. The Irish College is at Salamanca. Both seminaries are still resorted to, to some extent, by youths from the United Kingdom, though a novitiate in Valladolid might not seem an adequate training for parochial work in English cities or Highland glens.

Sculpture is the art that has been least cultivated in Spain. Exceptional interest attaches, therefore, to the Museum of Valladolid, which contains a valuable collection of the works of native sculptors, or rather carvers. The building itself is the old College of Santa Cruz, built in 1486 by the famous Enrique de Egas, and intended by the founder, Cardinal Mendoza (_el tercer Rey_) to harbour impoverished genius. The exterior is surmounted by a balustrade, and strengthened with buttresses tapering into pinnacles. The principal façade is a fine example of Plateresque work, with much that is Gothic about the detail. The coats-of-arms of the Catholic kings and of the founder appear, of course, in the decoration, and the cardinal is shown adoring the cross upheld by St. Helen. The inner court is surrounded by a triple tier of galleries, with semicircular arches, octagonal pillars, and elegant balustrades.

Within these walls have been collected treasures from the demolished, dismantled, and disused churches, convents, and palaces of the city, many of the objects now here having been removed from their original positions by the French and left behind them in the hurry of flight. Here we find the retablo executed between 1526 and 1532 for the church of San Benito by Alonso Berruguete. Street, who disliked all the works of the Renaissance, denounced this altarpiece in unmeasured terms; but no impartial critic can deny the beauty of certain of the figures, notably those of Abraham and St. Sebastian. In the museum may also be seen the choir stalls from the same church, carved by the master in 1528--ten years before he designed the _silleria_ of Toledo. The work displays marvellous imagination and great delicacy in the execution.

The genius of Juan de Juni, who was living at Valladolid in 1570, is best represented by his wooden statue of the Dead Christ, from the convent of San Francisco. So ghastly is the realism of this figure, that looking at the rigid limbs--more like those of a gladiator than of the Crucified--we feel that corruption is about to take place, and avert our eyes in horror. One is tempted to hold one’s nose, as Murillo is said to have done while contemplating a canvas by Valdes Leal. Not less vigorous and infinitely more attractive is the noble statue of St. Bruno by the same sculptor.

Gregorio Hernandez was the last of the trio of carver-sculptors who lived and worked at Valladolid. He was an indefatigable and prolific worker, and never doubted that the sole mission of art was to serve the purposes of religion. He died in 1636, in Juni’s old house, at No. 37 Calle de San Luis. He is well represented in this museum. St. Teresa is perhaps his best work, but shows his want of vigour as compared with his two predecessors. It was Hernandez who unfortunately set the example of draping statues with nets and fabrics, since followed with such unhappy results.

Few artists on canvas, or in stone or wood, have so well expressed the evil passions of the mob as the unknown sculptor of Christ bearing the Cross. The multitude is composed, of course, of local types--of those ferocious bravos and audacious picaros who abounded in Spain at that time, and whose ugliest characteristics are here caught and rendered with astonishing realism. A different genius is exemplified by the beautiful statues in bronze gilt of the Duke and Duchess of Lerma, which once decorated their tombs at San Pablo. They were begun by an Italian, Pompeio Leoni, but completed, it is believed, by another hand.

The pictures in the museum are not of great importance. The Assumption and two other works by Rubens are in bad condition, and almost surpassed in interest by some pleasing productions of the modern Spanish school.

Not far from the museum is the house where Columbus died (No. 7 Cristobal Colon). He came hither on his return from his last voyage in 1504, and languished here, absolutely neglected by the cold-hearted Ferdinand, for eighteen months. From Philip and Joanna he hoped to obtain a fuller recognition of his services, and upon their landing in Spain he sent them the assurance of his homage and respect. Philip acknowledged this in a generous and kindly spirit--an act which, together with his oft-expressed disapprobation of the Inquisition, should be remembered to the handsome Burgundian’s credit. But on the 21st May 1506, Columbus went on a longer voyage than any he had made to the Indies--to the undiscovered country whence no traveller returns. He left two sons--Hernando, who, like his father, lies in the cathedral of Seville, and Diego, the ancestor of the present Duke of Veragua.

The house of Cervantes, of which I have already spoken in the historical chapter, is in the Calle de Miguel Iscar, leading from the Acero de Recoletos to the Mercado.

Interesting old houses are not uncommon in Valladolid. Besides those already mentioned are the Casas del Cordon and de los Duendes, built in part in the reign of Juan II.; the palace of Fabio Neli, the great patron of art and letters in Valladolid, with its classical doorway; the archiepiscopal palace, once the residence of the Marquises of Villasante; and the house of the unfortunate Calderon, minister of Philip III., in the Calle de Teresa Gil. Berruguete’s workshop may be seen near the convent (now barracks) of San Benito.

These memorials of the city’s golden age having been inspected, you may ruminate on its past and future (for Valladolid _has_ a future) in the beautiful shaded promenades by the Pisuerga or beneath the trees of the Magdalena park; and thus refreshed may possibly be ready to investigate the archives of the kingdom at Simancas, seven miles away. Considerable time and patience will, however, be required, since the collection consists of upwards of thirty-three millions of documents, arranged in eighty thousand bundles.

II

OVIEDO

The province of Asturias is, for all men of Spanish blood, holy ground. Its fastnesses sheltered the last little remnant of the nation which refused to bow before the foreign yoke, its mountains proved an impregnable bulwark against the invader. At Covadonga, Spain, beaten to her knees, with broken sword and buckler, struck back wildly, despairingly. Her adversary recoiled; in that instant she recovered her breath, and, rising to her feet, pressed him steadily, stealthily, irresistibly backwards. Asturias was not the cradle, but the asylum of the Spanish nation. Here, to use familiar expressions, she found salvation in the last ditch; she was saved at the eleventh hour.

How dreadful was the peril of the nation we may understand when we read that the coast of Asturias itself was overrun by the Moors, and that a Muslim governor ruled at Gijon. Only a few glens in the wild Cantabrian mountains can boast a soil never profaned by the tread of the infidel. Oviedo can claim no such distinction. The ground on which she stands was, beyond all doubt, within the Moorish dominions. And she was not, as it is a very common error to suppose, the first capital of the reborn monarchy. It was at Cangas de Onis that Pelayo held his primitive court, and to Pravia, nearer the ocean, that Silo transferred the seat of government. Not till the reign of Alfonso the Chaste (791-842) did Oviedo become the capital of the infant monarchy.

The town was younger even than the kingdom. It sprang up round a monastery founded by King Froila I. on the spot where in 760 the Abbot Fromistano had dedicated a humble church to St. Vincent. Before the monastery was built, the first stones were laid of the famous basilicas of the Salvador and of Saints Julian and Basilissa. Alfonso was born here, and partly out of affection for his native place, partly perhaps from an aversion to the capital of his enemy, Mauregato, he established his court here, beside the churches he loved. He girded the town with walls, and raised the bishop to the rank of primate of his dominions. Sovereign of two of the smaller provinces of Spain, he is said to have been emulous of the splendour of his contemporary Charlemagne. He endeavoured to restore the state of the old Gothic court. He revived the laws, the customs, and the ritual of his ancestors, and imported precious woods and marbles from afar for the embellishment of his little capital. His successors imitated not only the ceremonial and luxury of the Byzantine Emperors, but also their intriguing and methods of punishment. Putting out the eyes was as popular a means of ridding oneself of an opponent at Oviedo as at Constantinople. Alfonso el Magno avenged himself in this way on his four brothers, Veremundo, Nuño, Odoario, and Froila, whom he detected conspiring against him. Veremundo, notwithstanding, escaped to Astorga, where the inhabitants espoused his cause and defended him against his brother. Another conspiracy proved more successful, and Alfonso was driven from the throne by his own son. One day the dethroned sovereign presented himself before his successor and craved a boon. It was to lead the Asturian hosts once more against the infidels. The request was granted, and victory, as it had always done, attended the old king’s banners. And he had no sooner laid aside his arms, than, crowned with laurels in place of a diadem, he passed away at Zamora, December 20, 910.

The dominions of Alfonso were dismembered at his abdication, and Oviedo for the brief space of twenty years remained the capital of the kingdom of Asturias alone. Ramiro II. reunited the monarchy, and at the same time transferred the capital to Leon. Oviedo became again the temporary seat of government, when Al Mansûr’s ever-victorious host swept over Spain, submerging all the Christian conquests, and breaking only against the impenetrable barrier of the Asturias. Leon was not restored to its rank till the reign of Alfonso V. (999-1027). This second period of residence of the kings at Oviedo was marked by the miraculous intervention of Heaven on behalf of an innocent man--if the chroniclers may be credited. Ataulfo, Bishop of Santiago, was accused of enormous crimes, and, having been summoned to the court, was condemned on insufficient evidence by Veremundo II. to be exposed to the fury of a wild bull. The prelate, strong in the knowledge of his innocence, celebrated Mass, and presented himself in the arena clad in his pontifical vestments. The furious animal entered, and lo! at once prostrated himself before the devoted man, offering his head and horns to be caressed. Nay, more, he threatened the spectators with his fury. Amid the plaudits of all, the holy bishop withdrew, and retired to a church in the valley of the Pravia, where he died in the odour of sanctity. Oviedo was known as the city of the bishops, as it was the residence of a great many prelates whose Sees were _in partibus infidelium_--that is to say, had passed under the control of the Moors.

The history of the city, and indeed of the province, from the tenth century onwards, is of scant interest. Asturias was erected by Alfonso VII. in 1153 for a brief space into an independent kingdom in favour of the Infanta Urraca, his natural daughter by a lady of the province; but on her death it was reunited to the monarchy of Castile and Leon. Oviedo was too remote from the scene of the long campaign against the Muslims and from the later seats of government to take any prominent part in the nation’s affairs. But it did not escape the assaults of the French in the Peninsular War. The town was remorselessly sacked by General Bonnet, in spite of a resistance not unworthy of the posterity of Pelayo’s unconquerable warriors.

A quiet, clean city, swept unceasingly by wind and rain, Oviedo at first sight recalls but faintly its glorious past. Yet when we look carefully about us, we find that time has been kind to those early sanctuaries which were the cause of the town’s existence, and which have merited for it the title of ‘the holy.’ Approaching more as a pilgrim than a critic, in no sceptical frame of mind, you will find few places in Spain more deeply interesting. And though it is neither the oldest nor the most interesting architecturally of the local monuments, your steps will turn at once to the Cámara Santa, attached to the cathedral--the Palladium of Spain.

In the seventh century (so runs the legend) when the hosts of Khosru threatened the Holy Land, an ark or coffer, worked by the disciples of the Apostles and full of relics of ineffable sanctity, was conveyed by pious hands to Egypt. Thence it was transported to Cartagena, thence to Toledo; and when that city in its turn was menaced by the ever-advancing Saracen, it was taken by King Pelayo to the cave of Monsagro, ten miles from Oviedo. When the chaste king and his architect, Tioda, re-erected the basilica of San Salvador, founded by Froila, in the year 802, a chapel dedicated to San Miguel, and now called the Cámara Santa, was built expressly to receive this venerated reliquary.

This sanctuary is now approached from the south side of the cathedral by a flight of twenty-two steps, built in the sixteenth century. We reach first the chapel, or ante-cámara, restored if not entirely constructed in the reign of Alfonso VI. (1072-1109), and representing the highest pitch of development reached at that time by Romanesque art in Spain. The roof is groined, and supported on each side by six columns built into the wall. Each column consists of two pilasters, rising from high pedestal bases, and supporting the statues of two Apostles. These figures are expressive, though rude, and the draperies are graceful and natural. At their feet are fantastic animals. The capitals of the columns are richly and beautifully carved with foliage, and with compositions representing scenes from the life of the Saviour and combats between men and lions. The capitals of the small pillars at the corners of the pedestals are also curious and delicately carved. Over the door are three heads in relief, of Christ, the Virgin, and St. John, early Romanesque work once painted and then disfigured by whitewash. The pavement of hard _argamasa_, or tessellated work, resembles, as Ford remarks, Norman-Byzantine works in Sicily. Beneath is a crypt, or lower chapel, dedicated to St. Leocadia.

At the far end of the Ante-cámara is the Relicario, the sanctuary actually constructed by Alfonso the Chaste. It measures about 19½ by 17 feet, and consists of a single low vault with traces of paintings, and lighted by a little window in the arch spanning the entrance.

Enclosed within a railing is the _Arca_, a chest of oak, 7½ feet long by 3¾ broad, and thinly plated with silver. A Latin inscription of four lines on the lid goes to prove that this was the work, not of Alfonso the Chaste, but of Alfonso VI., a conclusion warranted also by the Arabic inscription in Kufic characters, in praise of the Most High, running round the chest--a form of decoration not introduced into Christian work till after the fall of Toledo. On one face of the ark are reliefs of the Twelve Apostles within niches, with the Four Evangelists at the angles, and the figure of Christ, supported by angels, in the middle. On one side are reliefs of the Nativity, Adoration of the Shepherds, and the Flight into Egypt; on the other the Revolt of Satan, the Ascension, and the Apostles. The subject of the reliefs on the cover is the Crucifixion.

What this ark contains is a matter for pious speculation. It is reckoned rash and impious to attempt to solve the mystery; and it is related that when Bishop Sandoval y Rojas, after much prayer and fasting, placed the key in the lock, he experienced such horror that his hair rose erect and knocked off his mitre! It is extraordinary that Bonnet’s soldiers did not attempt to solve the mystery.

On the cover of the Arca are placed smaller reliquaries, beautiful specimens of silversmith’s work, which some may think of more interest than their contents. These, according to tradition, are the following: two thorns from Christ’s crown, and one of the deniers for which he was sold; a piece of St. Bartholomew’s skin; some drops of blood which exuded from a crucifix profaned by the Jews; a fragment of the rod of Moses; one of St. Peter’s sandals; a fragment of the True Cross; and certain ivory tablets dated 1162.

Other precious relics are exhibited in the chamber, among them the winding-sheet of the Saviour, in a superb box of gold and blue enamel. The Cruz de la Victoria was carved of plain oak and carried as a standard by Pelayo at Covadonga; it is now encrusted with gold and brilliant enamels--work executed, as the inscription records, at Gauzon, near Oviedo, in the year 908. Another cross, styled the Cruz de los Angeles, dates from the times of Alfonso the Chaste, for whom it was made, it is said, by two angels disguised as goldsmiths. This precious relic is in the shape of a Maltese cross, is set with gems _en cabochon_, and encrusted with gilt filigree-work. In the centre is set a precious ruby. On the arms is inscribed the date of the making (808 A.D.) and an anathema on whomsoever should steal it. It is certainly remarkable that this inscription should contain nothing about the supernatural workmanship of the cross!

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The cathedral built by Tioda by order of Alfonso the Chaste was pulled down in the twelfth century. The foundation of the existing edifice may be attributed to Bishop Gutierre de Toledo, who flourished about 1390. The work was continued zealously by his successors, but was not altogether completed till the sixteenth century was half gone. The west front is flanked by towers, only one of which, as so often happens in Spain, has been raised above the general roof-level. The southern tower is of singular dignity and beauty. It rises to the height of 224 feet, and is divided into five stages, of which three are above the level of the aisles. The massive piers on which the structure rests are continued upwards in the form of buttresses along the corners, and are fluted, moulded, and enriched with canopies, crockets, and ornaments of the most elaborate and at the same time tasteful character. The windows are of three lights, with good traceries, above the archivolts appearing a kind of trefoil ornament. The third stage is girt by a beautiful parapet. The fourth stage is rather Renaissance than Gothic in treatment. It is flanked by tapering finials, and constitutes the belfry. Here is hung the bell named after King Vamba, which dates from 1219. On the topmost stage rises the graceful steeple, thickly encrusted with crockets, and flanked by pinnacles which seem to be a reproduction of it in miniature. No more beautiful church steeple than this is to be seen in Spain, or indeed in Europe. Repeated restorations, notably in 1521 and 1728, have fortunately left its fairy-like symmetry unimpaired.

The tower, however, unquestionably dwarfs the rest of the front, which is composed of a fine portico of three arches, the middle one being the highest. This central porch is flanked by statues of Alfonso the Chaste and King Froila. Despite these, and the canopied niches in the buttresses, the whole front presents a bare and forbidding aspect, not devoid, it must be conceded, of majesty. The portico was evidently only intended to be the base of the towers, of which, as we have seen, one only has been erected.

The interior is harmonious and pleasing. The nave is about twice the height of the aisles, with which it communicates through pointed arches. The piers are lightly fluted and encircled by simple fillets of foliage. Above the arches runs a gallery with a graceful balustrade, and pointed openings divided by mullions and containing good traceries. The clerestory windows are tall and of six lights, the mullions being bent so as to form tracery. On the south side they are filled with good stained glass; the northern windows are filled up. The transepts are spacious and lighted by wheel windows. There is no lantern over the crossing.

The chancel occupies a pentagonal apse at the east end of the nave, lit with five stained-glass windows. The retablo, dating from 1440, but since restored, is indifferent. The subjects of the reliefs are taken from the life of Christ. Near the High Altar are the tombs of various bishops, and a fine kneeling effigy of Bishop del Villar, who is buried at Segovia. The pulpits are of gilt iron. In the Renaissance chapels behind the chancel is the tomb of Bishop Gutierre.

In the transept is a rudely sculptured figure of Christ, believed to date from the twelfth century. The shells sculptured on the capital of the pillar, against which it stands, refer to the pilgrims who frequented this famous shrine.

The choir stalls are richly carved with caprices and scenes, ‘ill according,’ remarks a Spanish writer, ‘with the sanctity of the place.’ But the backs of the lower seats bear representations of Biblical characters, which, like the canopies above, are exquisitely carved. The organs are Churrigueresque, and the gorgeous Gothic trascoro is in hardly better taste. The chapels date mostly from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and contain nothing of interest, except the alleged body of St. Eulalia of Merida.

Communicating with the north transept is the Capilla del Rey Casto. This chapel, founded by Alfonso the Chaste, was entirely rebuilt in the eighteenth century by a bishop named Melaz in the worst baroque style. This was the pantheon of the early kings of Asturias, and some tombs, probably containing their remains, are certainly here; but the inscriptions are merely the result of guess-work. Only one sarcophagus can be identified, and that, it appears from the inscription, is the resting-place of one Ithacus. Who this personage was, and what he had done to merit sepulture in the royal vault, are riddles to which history supplies no answer.

The cloister, begun in the fourteenth and finished in the fifteenth century, is in good Gothic style. The pointed arches looking on the court are divided by four or five slender shafts, which support elegant tracery. Among the statues that of Alfonso XI. Is the best preserved. The capitals and corbels are curiously and richly carved with such subjects as King Favila hunting the bear, the duel of Froila, and what Mr. O’Shea very rightly calls ‘a series of comical pictorial reviews of the times.’ There are many tombs in the cloister, belonging to various epochs, mostly earlier than the fourteenth century. They are of all styles, but Don J. M. Quadrado points out that the epitaphs are almost uniform in style. The famous Bishop Pelayo’s tomb (died 1153) is here.

The chapter-house is a fine specimen of thirteenth-century architecture. The archives adjoining contain some documents and codices of the greatest value. Here is preserved the _Libro Gotico_ of the twelfth century, a beautifully illuminated manuscript, throwing light on the costumes and customs of that day.

The other churches founded by Alfonso the Chaste and his predecessors in the town itself have either been demolished or so often restored, rebuilt, and renovated, that they cannot be considered worth a visit. The earliest foundation of all, San Vicente, was modernised in 1592, and is interesting as containing the bones of the Abbot Feijoo, a man greatly esteemed by his contemporaries for his learning and sanctity (died 1764).

The Gothic church of San Francisco, now attached to a hospital, was founded by Fray Pedro, a companion of the great Francis of Assisi himself. This is the burying-place of the great family of Quirós, which claimed, in a not very reverent distich, to rank in point of dignity and antiquity next to the Divinity (‘Después de Dios, la casa de Quirós’). In the chancel lies Gonzalo Bernaldo de Quirós the Older, the youthful friend of Enrique of Trastamara, who died, wearing the religious habit, in 1575. Within a sepulchre upheld by lions which bear escutcheons crossed by the bar sinister, are the ashes of another Gonzalo Bernaldo, a distinguished illegitimate scion of the house. He is shown clad in armour, and at his feet a dog--symbolical, possibly, of the fidelity and tenacity with which he watched over the interests of his family during the minority of its chiefs. Close by is the vault of the house of Valdecarzana; a modern inscription informs us that during the interment of one of that family, a live cow must be present in the church--why or wherefore not being stated.

The church of Santa Maria de la Vega, outside the town, was the chapel of a Benedictine nunnery founded by Gontroda, mistress of Alfonso VII., who took the veil here in 1154. She was joined in her retirement, it is believed, by her daughter Urraca, sometime Queen of Navarre, and afterwards of Asturias. A century later another interesting penitent sought an asylum here: Doña Sancha Alvarez, mistress of the greatest noble in Spain, Rodrigo Alvarez de Asturias. The two ladies’ tombs lie close together. The sarcophagus of Gontroda is adorned with Romanesque reliefs of birds, and of hounds chasing deer, in curiously crude and conventional attitudes; Sancha’s tomb shows Gothic influence, and is sculptured in low relief. The epitaphs extol the virtues and amiability of the departed ladies.

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The two most interesting monuments in the district are the ancient churches of Santa Maria de Naranco and San Miguel de Lino, both outside the walls. The former was rebuilt by Ramiro I., and is, therefore, well over a thousand years old. Attached to it were a palace and baths, every trace of which has long since disappeared. The architecture presents curious local peculiarities. The church is situated on a slope, and is composed of a single nave resting on a crypt or substructure. The only entrance is by a porch on the north side, which is on the level of the nave and approached by steps. The whole exterior is severe and simple, strong buttresses running up the walls to the sloping roof. In the west front three stages may be distinguished: the lowest is formed by the substructure entered in the middle by a round arch; above this the nave terminates in a portico of three round arches, which spring from four palm-like pillars with Corinthian capitals; in the middle of the third stage is a window of three lights, also round arched. The interior has remained practically unchanged since Ramiro’s day. The chancel and choir occupy opposite ends of the nave, and are raised by one and three steps respectively above the level of the flooring. Both are shut off by three round arches, the middle one being higher than the others; and an arcade of closed arches runs along the side-walls of the nave. These arches are rudely constructed, and rest upon, rather than spring from, octagonal capitals, quaintly carved with figures of priests and lions. The columns are composed each of four engaged shafts, of the same pattern as those of the western portico. The ribs of the waggon-vaulted ceiling spring from corbels, beneath which are reliefs representing the two orders of society in Asturias in the ninth century--knights engaged in combat, and toilers carrying loads. Under these again are circular medallions, filled with conventional foliage, and having in the centre reliefs of lions and birds. The church was probably intended to be open at both ends, as it is now, that the congregation assembled on the hillside might be able to assist in divine worship. It is one of the most valuable architectural monuments of Spain.

The little basilica of San Miguel de Lino was built near Santa Maria by King Ramiro about the year 850. The name was originally _de ligno_, _i.e._ of the wood, and was derived quite possibly from a fragment of the True Cross preserved here. Here we have a cruciform church in miniature, with transepts, lantern, and apsidal chapels, of a height which seems out of proportion to their other reduced dimensions. The apsidal chapels formed a semicircle at the foundation, but have been squared off since. The roofs are tiled and pitched. The buttresses resemble those of the Naranco church. The walls are pierced, here and there, with windows of three lights, with round arches, columns spirally fluted, and columns cut into leaves; above these is an elaborate geometrical tracery, suggestive of Moorish influence. The jambs of the round-arched western porch are rudely carved with curious groups. One of these is irresistibly grotesque. A man is shown balancing himself with his hands on the top of a pole and his legs in the air, exactly like the familiar monkey on a stick of our childhood; with head downwards, he grins into the jaws of a lion, which stands on its hind legs agape with surprise or indignation. Behind the gymnast another man appears to be indulging in some sort of dumb-bell exercise. This amazing composition is averred by some authorities to represent the martyrdom of a saint! The floral designs which border it are skilfully, even delicately, executed.

The chancel is on a lower level than the nave, which is reached on each side by a flight of steps, in a chapel projecting from the transept. The lantern has one of the earliest attempts at a domed roof, now unfortunately concealed by a later flat ceiling. The columns and arches are Byzantine in style, and the capitals carved with rosettes in medallions and strapwork. The nave is waggon vaulted and lower than the transept.

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The modern buildings of Oviedo present few features of interest. The old walls have almost entirely disappeared, and few of the palaces or noblemen’s houses date further back than the seventeenth century. The University, founded in 1608 by the executors of Archbishop de Valdés, is a dignified building in the classical style--such as one might see in any fair-sized town in southern Europe. The Ayuntamiento, uninteresting in itself, contains a charter granted by the sixth and confirmed by the seventh Alfonso. Those who have had the opportunity of studying it say that it illustrates the transition from Latin to Spanish--just as the history of Oviedo illustrates the development of the Goth into the Spaniard.

III

SEGOVIA

The ancient and beautiful city of Segovia occupies one of those sites which men would have chosen for the building of towns as soon as towns ever came to be built. We may therefore be sure that the roots of the city’s life lie very far back in the past--an assurance confirmed by the name, which bespeaks an Iberian origin. Mediæval writers mentioned this as among the towns built by the fabulous King Hispan, whose name, with those of his relatives, Iberia and Pyrrhus, is always introduced to explain a mystery or to adorn a tale. To the Romans the place was known as Segobriga; and that it was a flourishing and important colony the great aqueduct, the most famous of its monuments, remains to this day to attest. We may assume the town under the Roman yoke was happy, for it had no history--at least, nothing of it has reached us. There were bishops on these barren heights in early times, for they are referred to by name as attending councils at Toledo in the sixth and seventh centuries. At the time of the Mohammedan conquest, a hermit called Fruto rallied the Christians in the fastnesses of the mountains and kept alive in them the Christian faith and traditions. This holy person was the brother of the martyrs Valentin and Engracia, whom the Moors put to death. This the hardened infidels did, the chroniclers assure us, in spite of miracles which might have converted Mohammed himself; for the Segovian saints cleft mountains asunder with the stroke of a knife, and produced fountains from the solid rock with the touch of a wand; while a mare, to whom the Eucharist had been offered as food, dropped on her knees in adoration. It is clear that in after years the Christians of Segovia enjoyed the liberty of worship that the Muslims of Spain everywhere conceded to their subjects; for we hear of a bishop, Ildered, governing his flock here in the year 940. In the following century it was included within the dominions of the Amir of Toledo, and on the downfall of that monarchy was annexed to the growing kingdom of Castile.

Like Salamanca and Avila, Segovia was repeopled at the instance of Count Raymond of Burgundy, chiefly by Gallegos from the north-west. It received its first charter from Alfonso VI. in 1108. Thereafter its citizens were always to be found in the fighting line. Tradition avers that Madrid was recovered from the Moors by the Segovians; and their chiefs on that glorious occasion were Dia Sanz and Fernán Garcia, whose descendants for many years after divided the government of the city between them. But the chronicles register a very black stain on the city’s fame: the assassination by the townsfolk of Alvar Fañez, the illustrious brother-in-arms of Alfonso VI., at Easter, 1114. Four years later, the Segovians took the side of Alfonso VII. against his mother, Queen Urraca, and were rewarded by the reconstitution of their town into a bishopric.

The history of Segovia differs little from that of other Castilian towns. Its citizens shared the glories and the hardships of the ceaseless campaigns against the Moors, and did not hold aloof from the equally numerous civil wars that distracted the kingdom. In 1295 they refused submission to the young king, Fernando IV., and his mother, Maria de Molina. The brave queen forced her way into the town, and found the gates shut behind her. Undismayed, she harangued the stubborn townsmen. ‘Open your gates,’ she cried, ‘and I will go with my son to more grateful and obedient towns; where vassals are less easily deceived by intriguers, and where mother and son are not separated!’ The people were moved by her reproaches, and, admitting the king, escorted both in triumph to the Alcazar.

The minority of Alfonso XI. (1320) was attended by sanguinary disorders in the streets of Segovia. Every church and house became a fortress, and the rival factions stormed and laid siege to each other’s strongholds within the narrow compass of the city walls. In 1368 the nobility held the Alcazar for Enrique of Trastamara, whilst the commons held the town for Pedro the Cruel; but the Gracious King, after the death of his half-brother at Montiel, visited Segovia and won all hearts. A hundred years later the town was distinguished by its loyalty to the wretched Enrique IV., who here betrayed his own daughter, Juana, by a reconciliation with his sister, Isabel. Not content with this, he appeared in the streets, leading by the bridle the palfrey of the woman who denied his own child’s legitimacy.

The townsfolk, at the beginning of the reign of Charles V., threw in their lot with the Comuneros; but the Alcazar throughout the rising was held by the royal forces. The King-Emperor and his successor, like their predecessors, frequently sojourned in the old palace-fortress. Later on, it was often used as a state prison. The famous Ripperdá, the Dutch adventurer, passed a portion of his captivity here; and the Marquis of Ayamonte was confined here prior to his execution in 1648. The establishment of the court permanently at Madrid, and the building of La Granja by Philip V. in 1721, diminished the importance of Segovia as a royal residence. In few countries have the larger provincial towns loomed more conspicuously in the past than in Spain, and in few are they nowadays more decayed and bloodless. Segovia remains, as Antonio Gallenga described it, ‘an unmatched picture of the Middle Ages. You read its history on the old city walls with their eighty-three towers; in the domes and belfries of its churches; in the bare and blank ruins of its deserted monasteries; in the battlemented towers of its noble mansions.’

The town stands high and bravely on the mountains, its flanks washed by two clear streams, Eresma and Clamores. The towers and domes rise sharply against the clear sky, high above the surrounding hills; an island of the air Segovia seems as you catch sight of her from the dusty plains of Old Castile. Even as clouds in their fantastic formations take the semblance of far-away cities, so at certain hours from afar off you might take this to be just such a cloud-town. And when you draw nearer you find the valleys are cool and green, and that the tall trees flourish here and do not wither as in the plains round Burgos and Valladolid.

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Coming from La Granja, the first you see of Segovia’s wonders is fittingly by far the oldest. The aqueduct dates, it is believed, from Trajan’s reign, and is the most considerable of the Roman remains of Spain. In the Middle Ages, like most other classical works, it was attributed to diabolical agency, and is still often called El Puente del Diablo. Beginning at the Fuente Fria in the Sierra Guadarrama, ten miles away, with many zigzags it passes over hill and dale, and at last spans the deep valley before the city, and is carried across the streets to the Alcazar. It is built of granite with black veins, hewn in great blocks, which are pieced together without mortar or clamps. Every block is visible on one side or another. For the distance of nine hundred yards the aqueduct is carried on one hundred and nineteen arches, varying in height from twenty-three to ninety-four feet. For a third of this length the arches are in two tiers. The work is devoid of ornamentation, except for the remains of a cornice. All is not Roman work. The aqueduct was partially demolished in the eleventh century during a siege by the Moors, and when Queen Isabel the Catholic determined to restore it, thirty-six arches between the convents of La Concepcion and San Francisco had fallen in. The restoration of these was intrusted, on the recommendation of the Prior of El Parral, to a young monk of that house, named Fray Juan Escovedo, who performed his difficult task with remarkable skill. Indeed, it is not easy to distinguish the Spaniard’s work from the Roman’s. Escovedo died in 1489. The only reward he received for his labours was the timber of the scaffoldings.

Some of the arches have been for centuries embedded in the city walls. The work, though severe and imposing, is not perhaps equal to the Pont de Gard, or even to certain other Roman remains in Spain. Yet nothing could be more curious, or, in a sense, more picturesque, than the views of the quaint old houses framed by its arches, or grander than these as seen from San Juan, or towering above the Plaza Mayor. Their height is, of course, magnified by the hovels clustering at their bases, in comparison with which the aqueduct appears rather the work of Cyclopes than of men. And through these arches, as through a gate of triumph, we pass into the mediæval city.

Yet this is not the only monument of classical antiquity in Segovia. The rude figure of Hercules about to slay the Erymanthine Boar was discovered in the interior of the tower of Santo Domingo el Real, which became the property of the Dominican nuns in 1513. The demigod, to whom the foundation of so many Spanish cities has been ascribed, was no doubt worshipped here.

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This ancient town of warlike people is surrounded by high walls, reared by the settlers of Count Raymond in the eleventh century, though the Alcazar, the ‘Casa de Segovia’ (adjoining the fine old Puerta de San Juan), and the ‘Tower of Hercules’ just mentioned, all forming part of the enceinte, may have been in the first instance of Roman origin. The wall is strengthened by bastions and towers of various shapes--square, round, and polygonal--some with brick archings and ornamental courses of brick and plaster. The wall and towers preserve their battlements. The ‘allure,’ or rampart walk, is in parts so narrow as hardly to permit of safe walking. Among the most picturesque gates is that of San Andrés. It lies between two towers, one square, the other larger and polygonal, and crowning the very edge of the declivity; from one to the other runs a gallery, supported by a semicircular arch. This gate was restored by Ferdinand and Isabel, and at one time afforded ingress to the Jewry of Segovia. The masonry of the adjoining wall resembles that of the aqueduct close by, and may possibly be a fragment of the Roman fortifications.

Segovia, we are often reminded, looks like a ship in full sail towards the west; and the Alcazar is at the prow. Whether or not it occupies the site of a Saracen or Roman work, there can be no doubt that the present structure was founded by the conqueror of Toledo, Alfonso VI., at the end of the eleventh century, and was remodelled and enlarged by Juan II. in the fifteenth. Much of it is now entirely modern, the interior of the fabric having been completely restored after the fire of 1862. For all that, this citadel of Segovia remains a fine typical castle of Castile, the castle-land. The massive Torre de Juan Segundo forms the east part of the building. Its four sides are furnished with the bartizans characteristic of Spanish castles, which spring out of the wall at about half its height, and rise considerably above the battlements. Between them runs a machicolation carried on corbels. The windows in this magnificent tower are sheltered by quaint stone canopies; and the whole façade is covered with plaster, on which Gothic tracery has been stamped with a mould as at the Alhambra. The interior is vaulted, and has three floors.

Around the inner court were disposed the royal apartments, which indeed still exist, though the fire and consequent restoration have shorn them of most of their beauties. Don J. M. Quadrado, who saw them before the catastrophe, declares they were of magical splendour. A curious story is associated with the Sala del Cordon. In 1258 the learned king, Alfonso X., discoursing at the Alcazar as was his wont with a party of sages, remarked, like Lafontaine’s Garo, that if the Creator had consulted him he would have turned out a better world; others have it that he declared his belief that the earth revolved round the sun, and not the sun round the earth. Whatever he said, he was rebuked for his profanity by Brother Antonio, a Franciscan. But the king hardened his heart. That very night, as he lay in bed, a thunderbolt came crashing through the ceiling, and sent him quaking and beseeching absolution to the feet of the friar. In memory of this event he decorated the walls of this apartment with the cord or girdle of St. Francis, which perhaps as a member of the lay ‘Third Order’ he was entitled to wear.

Passing through the handsome Sala del Trono, we reach the Sala de los Reyes, adorned before the conflagration with an ancient and valuable series of effigies of the early kings of Leon and Castile. From one of the windows Pedro, a son of Enrique II., fell out of the arms of his nurse, and was dashed to pieces on the rocks below. The woman, rather than face the king’s anger, threw herself after her charge and met the same fate.

The part of rock at the western extremity of town and citadel is defended by the strong Torre de Homenage, which was held for Isabel the Catholic by Andrés de Cabrera in 1476 when the rest of the fortress had been seized by the partisans of Juana. In 1507, on the contrary, it offered a vigorous resistance to the same Cabrera, to whom, however, the garrison surrendered on May 15. The tower is surmounted and strengthened by seven turrets. The irregular disposition of these _cubos_ and _torreones_ (round towers and bartizans) round the four sides of a keep is a peculiarity of Spanish military architecture. Here they used to be crowned with peaked roofs of slate, probably like those that lend such a bizarre appearance to the palace at Cintra. This feature, like the plaster-work on the façade, shows distinct Moorish influence, and encourages the belief that the castle was modelled on that of the Muslim lords of Toledo.

We have seen how important was the part played in the history of the kingdom by this grand old citadel. I must not forget to mention that Le Sage places here the scene of the confinement of Gil Blas before his marriage; but as is well known, the author of the most famous of picaresque romances never set foot south of the Pyrenees.

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The space to the east of the Alcazar was formerly occupied by the old cathedral, built in the twelfth century, and totally destroyed by the Comuneros in 1520. It was determined to erect the new cathedral on a more convenient site, and on the 8th June 1522 the Bishop, going in procession, laid the foundation-stone of the existing building on the west side of the Plaza Mayor. The plans were drawn by Juan Gil de Hontañon, and are very similar to those of the new cathedral at Salamanca, of which Hontañon was architect, though he is said to have used another’s designs. Street thinks (and few will disagree with him) that this is the finer cathedral of the two, chiefly because its eastern end is semicircular and not square. It is one of the very latest Gothic cathedrals, and is on the whole a beautiful building in fine warm-hued stone. The plan is that of an oblong, rounded at the eastern end; or, to be more precise, it includes a nave with aisles, into which on both sides open chapels placed between flying buttresses, and a chevet with seven polygonal chapels. The choir occupies the customary position in the middle of the nave. A cupola, 220 feet high, rises over the crossing. The length of the church is given as 330 feet, the breadth as 158 feet, the nave being 44 feet across, the aisles 30 feet.

The west front is divided by buttresses into five compartments, corresponding to the nave, aisles, and rows of chapels, both in width and in elevation. The three entrances are enclosed within pointed arches. The ornamentation is restrained and pure. At the southern corner the front is flanked by a square tower 345 feet high and 35 feet in area, with six rows of windows enclosed within arcades and all blinded except those of the belfry. The angles of the platform are adorned with pinnacles, and the tower is surmounted by an octagonal clock-story. Higher than the Giralda of Seville and broader than the Tower at Toledo, this structure is a matter of legitimate pride to the Segovians.

The rest of the exterior closely resembles that of Salamanca--‘the same concealment of the roofs and roof-lines everywhere,’ laments Street. The outside of the chevet exhibits an excess of ornamental work; it is, in fact, a forest of pinnacles. On the south side the façade is partly hidden by the cloister and sacristies.

The interior is bright and altogether pleasing. The columns are massive and gracefully moulded, and the arches lofty. The nave and aisles are lighted by windows filled with beautifully-coloured glass. There is no triforium, but instead a balustrade in the flamboyant style in front of the clerestory of the nave.

The lantern or cupola over the crossing, and the gorgeous reredos behind the High Altar, are quite out of keeping with the general aspect of the church. The chancel is enclosed by three very fine iron screens, quite Plateresque in character, though executed in 1733. The majority of the stalls in the choir were designed for the old cathedral, half a century at least before its destruction. The organ on the Epistle side, now enclosed in an eighteenth-century case, also came from the old church, and was the gift of Enrique III. The rich marble retablo at the west end of the choir was given by Carlos III., and enshrines in a silver reliquary the ashes of the local martyrs, Fruto and his brethren.

The chapels are not specially interesting. Those in the chevet are exactly alike, and furnished like those in the aisles, for the most part, with seventeenth-century retablos. In one (Nuestra Señora del Rosario) is buried Doña Maria Quintana, who ended a dissipated life in the odour of sanctity on August 16, 1734. Her epitaph runs: ‘Hic vespere et mane et meridie laudes Deo reddidit, et vitandi crimina zelo preces et lacrymas Juges effudit; hic quam intra chorum psallere secum prohibuit, extra chorum fructuose psallere Spiritus docuit; hic tertio ab obitu die nondum rigida membra, à juncturis suis jamdiu separata quiescunt ossa. An forsan post mortem etiam prophetabunt?’ The chapel of St. Hierotio was dedicated to that saint by Bishop Escalzo under the false impression that he was the founder of the see. The Capilla de la Piedad (fifth in the left aisle) is remarkable for a fine Descent from the Cross, a retablo with colossal and expressionful figures, painted by Juan de Juni in 1571. In the same chapel is a painting by Alonso Sánchez Coello, the Apparition of Christ to St. Thomas, spoilt by injudicious re-touching.