CATHEDRAL CITIES OF SPAIN
_UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME_
CATHEDRAL CITIES OF ENGLAND. By GEORGE GILBERT. With 60
reproductions from water-colours by W.W. COLLINS, R.I. Demy 8vo,
16s. net.
CATHEDRAL CITIES OF FRANCE. By HERBERT and HESTER MARSHALL. With 60
reproductions from water-colours by HERBERT MARSHALL, R.W.S. Demy
8vo, 16s. net. Also large paper edition, £2 2s. net.
_BOOKS ILLUSTRATED BY JOSEPH PENNELL_
ITALIAN HOURS. By HENRY JAMES. With 32 plates in colour and
numerous illustrations in black and white by JOSEPH PENNELL. Large
crown 4to. Price 20s. net.
A LITTLE TOUR IN FRANCE. By HENRY JAMES. With 94 illustrations by
JOSEPH PENNELL. Pott 4to. Price 10s. net.
ENGLISH HOURS. By HENRY JAMES. With 94 illustrations by JOSEPH
PENNELL. Pott 4to. Price 10s. net.
ITALIAN JOURNEYS. By W.D. HOWELLS. With 103 illustrations by JOSEPH
PENNELL. Pott 4to. Price 10s. net.
CASTILIAN DAYS. By the Hon. JOHN HAY. With 111 illustrations by
JOSEPH PENNELL. Pott 4to. Price 10s. net.
London: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
21 Bedford Street, W.C.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: BURGOS. THE CATHEDRAL]
CATHEDRAL CITIES
OF SPAIN
WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED
BY
W. W. COLLINS, R.I.
[Illustration: colophon]
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
NEW YORK: DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1909
_All rights reserved_
_Copyright, London, 1909, by William Heinemann and
Washington, U.S.A., by Dodd, Mead & Co_
PREFACE
Spain, the country of contrasts, of races differing from one another in
habits, customs, and language, has one great thing that welds it into a
homogeneous nation, and this is its Religion. Wherever one's footsteps
wander, be it in the progressive provinces of the north, the mediævalism
of the Great Plain, or in that still eastern portion of the south,
Andalusia, this one thing is ever omnipresent and stamps itself on the
memory as the great living force throughout the Peninsula.
In her Cathedrals and Churches, her ruined Monasteries and Convents,
there is more than abundant evidence of the vitality of her Faith; and
we can see how, after the expulsion of the Moor, the wealth of the
nation poured into the coffers of the Church and there centralised the
life of the nation.
In the mountain fastnesses of Asturias the churches of Santa Maria de
Naranco and San Miguel de Lino, dating from the ninth century and
contemporary with San Pablo and Santa Cristina, in Barcelona, are the
earliest Christian buildings in Spain. As the Moor was pushed further
south, a new style followed his retreating steps; and the Romanesque,
introduced from over the Pyrenees, became the adopted form of
architecture in the more or less settled parts of the country. Creeping
south through Leon, where San Isidoro is well worth mention, we find the
finest examples of the period in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, at
Segovia, Avila, and the grand Catedral Vieja of Salamanca.
Spain sought help from France to expel the Moor, and it is but natural
that the more advanced nation should leave her mark somewhere and in
some way in the country she pacifically invaded. Before the spread of
this influence became general, we find at least one great monument of
native genius rise up at Tarragona. The Transition Cathedral there can
lay claim to be entirely Spanish. It is the epitome and outcome of a
yearning for the display of Spain's own talent, and is one of the most
interesting and beautiful in the whole country.
Toledo, Leon, and Burgos are the three Cathedrals known as the "French"
Cathedrals of Spain. They are Gothic and the first named is the finest
of all. Spanish Gothic is best exemplified in the Cathedral of
Barcelona. For late-Gothic, we must go to the huge structures of
Salamanca, Segovia, and the Cathedral at Seville which almost overwhelms
in the grandeur of its scale.
After the close of the fifteenth century Italian or Renaissance
influence began to be felt, and the decoration of the Plateresque style
became the vogue. San Marcos at Leon, the University of Salamanca, and
the Casa de Ayuntamiento at Seville are among the best examples of this.
The influence of Churriguera, who evolved the Churrigueresque style, is
to be met with in almost every Cathedral in the country. He it is who
was responsible for those great gilded altars with their enormous
twisted pillars so familiar to travellers in Spain; and which, though no
doubt a tribute to the glory of God, one feels are more a vulgar display
of wealth than a tasteful or artistic addition to her architecture. The
finest of the Renaissance Cathedrals is that of Granada, and the most
obtrusive piece of Churrigueresque is the Cartuja in the same city.
Taking the Cathedrals as a whole the two most unfamiliar and notable
features are the Coros or Choirs, and the Retablos. These
latter--gorgeous backings to the High Altar, generally ill-lit, with a
superabundance of carving sometimes coloured and gilded, sometimes of
plain stone--are of Low-country or Flemish origin. The former, with one
exception at Oviedo, are placed in the nave west of the crossing, and
enclose, as a rule, two or more bays in this direction. Every Cathedral
is a museum of art, and these two features are the most worth study.
NOTE.--_Since the revolution in Catalonia of July-August 1909, the
King has decreed that no one can secure exemption from military
service by the payment of a sum of money._
CONTENTS
PAGE
CADIZ 1
SEVILLE 7
CORDOVA 23
GRANADA 31
MALAGA 57
VALENCIA 65
TORTOSA 77
TARRAGONA 83
BARCELONA 91
GERONA 101
TOLEDO 107
SALAMANCA 121
AVILA 137
SEGOVIA 145
SARAGOSSA 159
SANTIAGO 174
TUY 183
ORENSE 187
ASTORGA 193
ZAMORA 199
LEON 205
OVIEDO 217
VALLADOLID 225
BURGOS 233
INDEX 249
ILLUSTRATIONS
_To face
page_
Burgos. The Cathedral _Frontispiece_
Cadiz. The Cathedral 2
Cadiz. The Market Place 4
Seville. In the Cathedral 8
Seville. The Giralda Tower 12
Seville. In the Alcázar, the Patio de las Doncellas 14
Seville. View over the Town 18
Cordova. Interior of the Mesquita 24
Cordova. The Campanario Tower 26
Cordova. The Bridge 28
Cordova. Fountain in the Court of Oranges 30
Granada. Carrera de Darro 32
Granada. Exterior of the Cathedral 38
Granada. The Alhambra 46
Granada. The Alhambra, Court of Lions 50
Granada. Generalife 54
Malaga. View from the Harbour 58
Malaga. The Market 62
Valencia. San Pablo 66
Valencia. Door of the Cathedral 68
Valencia. Religious Procession 72
Tortosa 80
Tarragona 84
Tarragona. The Archbishop's Tower 86
Tarragona. The Cloisters 88
Barcelona. The Cathedral 92
Barcelona. The Rambla 96
Gerona. The Cattle Market 102
Gerona. The Cathedral 104
Toledo. The Cathedral 108
Toledo. The South Transept 110
Toledo. The Zócodover 114
Toledo. The Alcántara Bridge 116
Salamanca 122
Salamanca. The Old Cathedral 124
Salamanca. An Old Street 128
Avila 138
Avila. Puerta de San Vicente 142
Segovia at Sunset 146
Segovia. The Aqueduct 148
Segovia. Plaza Mayor 152
Saragossa. La Seo 160
Saragossa. In the Old Cathedral 164
Saragossa. Easter Procession 166
Santiago. The Cathedral 172
Santiago. South Door of the Cathedral 174
Santiago. Interior of the Cathedral 178
Tuy 184
Orense. In the Cathedral 188
Astorga 194
Zamora. The Cathedral 202
Leon. The Cathedral 208
Leon. The West Porch of the Cathedral 210
Leon. San Marcos 214
Oviedo. In the Cathedral 218
Oviedo. The Cloisters 222
Valladolid.Santa Maria la Antigua 226
Valladolid.San Pablo 228
Burgos. The Capilla Mayor 236
Burgos. Arch of Santa Maria 242
CADIZ
At one time the greatest port in the world--"Where are thy glories now,
oh, Cadiz?" She is still a White City lying embosomed on a sea of
emerald and topaz. Her streets are still full of the colour of the East,
but alas! Seville has robbed her of her trade, and in the hustle of
modern life she is too far from the busy centre, too much on the
outskirts of everything, to be anything more than a port of call for
American tourists and a point from whence the emigrant leaves his native
country.
This isolation is one of her great charms, and the recollections I have
carried away of her quiet clean streets, her white or pink washed houses
with their flat roofs and _miradores_, her brilliant sun and blue sea,
can never be effaced by Time's subtle hand.
Landing from a coasting-boat from Gibraltar, I began my travels through
Spain at Cadiz; and it was with intense regret, so pleasant was the
change from the grey skies and cold winds of England, that I took my
final stroll along the broad Alameda bordered with palms of all sorts,
and lined with other exotic growth--that I bid good-bye to the Parque de
Genoves where many a pleasant hour had been spent in the grateful shade
of its trees. I shall probably never again lean idly over the sea-washed
walls and watch the graceful barques with their cargoes of salt, spread
their sails to the breeze and glide away on the long voyage to South
America.
Looking out eastwards over the marshes I was at first much puzzled to
know what were the white pyramids that stood in rows like the tents of
an invading host. Then I was told. Shallow pans are dug out in the marsh
and the sea let in. After evaporation this is repeated again and again,
until the saline deposit is thick enough to be scraped and by degrees
grows into a pyramid. Every pan is named after a saint from whom good
luck is implored. No, I doubt if ever my eyes will wander again over the
blue waters to the marsh lands of San Fernando.
[Illustration: CADIZ. THE CATHEDRAL]
Life is short and I can hardly hope that Fate will carry me back to
those sea walls and once more permit me as the sun goes down to
speculate on the catch of the fishing-fleet as each boat makes for its
haven in the short twilight of a southern clime. I cannot but regret
that all this is of the past, but I shall never regret that at Cadiz,
the most enchanting of Spain's seaports, began my acquaintance with
her many glorious cities.
In ancient times Cadiz was the chief mart for the tin of the
Cassiterides and the amber of the Baltic. Founded by the Tyrians as far
back as 1100 B.C., it was the Gadir (fortress) of the Phoenicians.
Later on Hamilcar and Hannibal equipped their armies and built their
fleets here. The Romans named the city Gades, and it became second only
to Padua and Rome. After the discovery of America, Cadiz became once
more a busy port, the great silver fleets discharged their precious
cargoes in its harbour and from the estuary sailed many a man whose
descendants have created the great Spain over the water.
The loss of the Spanish colonies ruined Cadiz and it has never regained
the place in the world it once held. Huge quays are about to be
constructed and the present King has just laid the first stone of these,
in the hopes that trade may once more be brought to a city that sleeps.
There are two Cathedrals in Cadiz. The Catedral Nueva is a modern
structure commenced in 1722 and finished in 1838 by the bishop whose
statue faces the rather imposing west façade. Built of limestone and
Jérez sandstone, it is white--dazzling white, and rich ochre brown.
There is very little of interest in the interior. The _silleria del
coro_ (choir stalls) were given by Queen Isabel, and came originally
from a suppressed Carthusian Convent near Seville. The exterior can
claim a certain grandeur, especially when seen from the sea. The drum of
the _cimborio_ with the great yellow dome above, and the towers of the
west façade give it from a distance somewhat the appearance of a mosque.
The Catedral Vieja, built in the thirteenth century, was originally
Gothic, but being almost entirely destroyed during Lord Essex's siege in
1596, was rebuilt in its present unpretentious Renaissance form.
Cadiz possesses an Académia de Bellas Artes where Zurbaran, Murillo and
Alfonso Cano are represented by second-rate paintings. To the suppressed
convent of San Francisco is attached the melancholy interest of
Murillo's fatal fall from the scaffolding while at work on the _Marriage
of St. Catherine_. The picture was finished by his apt pupil Meneses
Osorio. Another work by the master, a _San Francisco_, quite in his best
style also hangs here.
[Illustration: CADIZ. THE MARKET PLACE]
The churches of Cadiz contain nothing to attract one, indeed if it were
not for the fine setting of the city surrounded by water, and the
semi-eastern atmosphere that pervades the place, there is but little to
hold the ordinary tourist. The Mercado, or market-place, is a busy
scene and full of colour; the Fish Market, too, abounds in varieties of
finny inhabitants of the deep and compares favourably in this respect
with that of Bergen in far away Norway. The sole attraction in this City
of the Past--in fact, I might say in the Past of Spain as far as it
concerns Cadiz--lies on the stretch of water into which the rivers
Guadalete and San Pedro empty themselves. From the very earliest days
down to the time when Columbus sailed on his voyage which altered the
face of the then known globe, and so on to our own day, it is in the
Bahia de Cadiz that her history has been written.
SEVILLE
Seville, the "Sephela" of the Phoenicians, "Hispalis" of the Romans,
and "Ishbilyah" of the Moors, is by far the largest and most interesting
city of Southern Spain. In Visigothic times Seville was the capital of
the Silingi until Leovigild moved his court to Toledo. It was captured
by Julius Cæsar in 45 B.C., but during the Roman occupation was
overshadowed by Italica, the birthplace of the Emperors Trajan, Adrian,
and Theodosius, and the greatest of Rome's cities in Hispania. This once
magnificent place is now a desolate ruin, plundered of its glories and
the haunt of gipsies.
Under the Moors, who ruled it for five hundred and thirty-six years,
Seville was second only to Cordova, to which city it became subject when
Abdurrhaman established the Western Kalifate there in the year 756.
San Ferdinand, King of Leon and Castile, pushed his conquests far south
and Seville succumbed to the force of his arms in 1248.
Seville is the most fascinating city in Spain. It is still Moorish in a
way. Its houses are built on the Eastern plan with _patios_, their roofs
are flat and many have that charming accessory, the _miradore_. Its
streets are narrow and winding, pushed out from a common centre with no
particular plan. It is Andalusian and behind the times. Triana, the
gipsy suburb, is full of interest. The Cathedral, though of late and
therefore not particularly good Gothic, is, on account of its great
size, the most impressive in the whole country. The Alcázar, once more a
royal residence, vies with Granada's Alhambra in beauty; and as a
mercantile port, sixty miles from the estuary, Seville ranks second to
none in Southern Spain.
The Cathedral stands third in point of size if the ground space is alone
considered, after St. Peter's at Rome and the Mesquita at Cordova. The
proportions of the lofty nave, one hundred feet in height, are so good
that it appears really much higher. The columns of the double aisles
break up the two hundred and sixty feet of its width and add much to the
solemn dignity of the vast interior, enhanced greatly by the height of
the vaulting above the spectator. Standing anywhere in the Cathedral I
felt that there was a roof above my head, but it seemed lost in space.
And this is the great characteristic of Seville's Cathedral, _i.e._,
space.
[Illustration: SEVILLE. IN THE CATHEDRAL]
The _coro_ is railed off from the crossing by a simple iron-gilt _reja_.
The _silleria_, by Sanchez, Dancart, and Guillier are very fine and took
seventy years to execute. Between the _coro_ and Capilla Mayor, in Holy
Week the great bronze candlestick, twenty-five feet high, a fine
specimen of sixteenth-century work, is placed alight. When the _Misere_
is chanted during service, twelve of its thirteen candles are put out,
one by one, indicating the desertion of Christ by his apostles. The
thirteenth left burning symbolises the Virgin, faithful to the end. From
this single light all the other candles in the Cathedral are lit.
The _reja_ of the Capilla Mayor is a grand example of an iron-gilt
screen, and with those to the north and south, is due to the talent of
the Dominican, Francisco de Salamanca.
The fine Gothic _retablo_ of the High Altar surpasses all others in
Spain in size and elaboration of detail. It was designed by Dancart and
many artists were employed in its execution. When the sun finds his way
through the magnificent coloured glass of the windows between noon and
three o'clock, and glints across it, few "interior" subjects surpass the
beautiful effect on this fine piece of work.
In front of the High Altar at the feast of Corpus Christi and on three
other occasions, the _Seises's_ dance takes place. This strange ceremony
is performed by chorister boys who dance a sort of minuet with
castanets. Their costume is of the time of Philip III., _i.e._, 1630,
and they wear plumed hats. Of the numerous chapels the most interesting
is the Capilla Real. It possesses a staff of clergy all to itself. Begun
in 1514 by Martin de Gainza, it was finished fifty years later. Over the
High Altar is the almost life-size figure of the Virgin de los Reyes,
given by St. Louis of France to San Ferdinand. Its hair is of spun gold
and its numerous vestments are marvellous examples of early embroidery.
The throne on which the Virgin is seated is a thirteenth-century piece
of silver work, with the arms of Castile and Leon, San Ferdinand's two
kingdoms. Before it lies the King himself in a silver shrine. Three
times a year, in May, August and November, a great military Mass takes
place before this royal shrine, when the garrison of Seville marches
through the chapel and colours are lowered in front of the altar. In the
vault beneath are the coffins of Pedro the Cruel and Maria Padilla his
mistress, the only living being who was humanly treated by this scourge
of Spain. Their three sons rest close to them.
On the north and south sides of this remarkable chapel, within arched
recesses, are the sarcophagi of Beatrice of Swabia and Alfonso the
Learned. They are covered with cloth of gold emblazoned with
coats-of-arms. A crown and sceptre rest on the cushion which lies on
each tomb. In the dim light, high above and beyond mortal reach rest
these two--it is very impressive.
Each of the remaining twenty-nine chapels contains something of
interest. In the Capilla de Santiago is a beautiful painted window of
the conversion of St. Paul. The _retablo_ in the Capilla de San Pedro
contains pictures by Zurbaran. In the north transept in a small chapel
is a good Virgin and Child by Alonso Cano; in the south is the Altar de
la Gamba, over which hangs the celebrated _La Generacion_ of Louis de
Vargas, known as _La Gamba_ from the well-drawn leg of Adam. On the
other side of this transept is the Altar de la Santa Cruz and between
these two altars is the monument to Christopher Columbus. Erected in
Havana it was brought to Spain after the late war and put up here.
Murillo's work outshines all other's in the Cathedral. The grand _San
Antonio de Padua_, in the second chapel west of the north aisle, is
difficult to see. The window which lights it is covered by a curtain,
which, however, the silver key will pull aside. Over the Altar of
Nuestra Señora del Consuelo is a beautiful Guardian Angel from the same
brush. Close by is another, _Santa Dorotea_, a very choice little
picture. In the Sacristy are two more, _S.S. Isidore_ and _Leander_. In
the Sala Capitular a _Conception_ and a _Mater Dolorosa_ in the small
sacristy attached to the Capilla Real complete the list.
Besides these fine pictures there are others which one can include in
the same category by Cano, Zurbaran, Morales, Vargas, Pedro Campaña and
the Flemish painter Sturm, a veritable gallery! And when I went into the
Treasury and saw the priceless relics which belong to Seville's
Cathedral, priceless in value and interest, and priceless from my own
art point of view, "Surely," thought I, "not only is it a picture
gallery, it is a museum as well."
The original mosque of Abu Yusuf Yakub was used as a Cathedral until
1401, when it was pulled down, the present building, which took its
place, being finished in 1506. The dome of this collapsed five years
later and was re-erected by Juan Gil de Hontañon. Earthquake shocks and
"jerry-building" were responsible for a second collapse in the August of
1888. The restoration has since been completed in a most satisfactory
manner--let us hope it will last.
[Illustration: SEVILLE. THE GIRALDA TOWER]
The exterior of the Cathedral is a very irregular mass of towers, domes,
pinnacles and flying buttresses, which give no clue to the almost
over-powering solemnity within the walls. Three doorways occupy the
west façade, which is of modern construction, and there are three also
on the north side of the Cathedral, one of which opens into the
_Segrario_, another into the Patio de los Naranjos and the third into
the arcade of the same patio. This last retains the horse-shoe arch of
the old mosque. In the porch hangs the stuffed crocodile which was sent
by the Sultan of Egypt to Alfonso el Sabio with a request for the hand
of his daughter. On the south is one huge door seldom opened. On the
east there are two more, that of La Puerta de los Palos being under the
shadow of the great Giralda Tower.
This magnificent relic of the Moslem's rule rears its height far above
everything else in Seville. Erected at the close of the twelfth century
by order of Abu Yusuf Yakub, it belongs to the second and best period of
Moorish architecture.
On its summit at the four corners rested four brazen balls of enormous
size overthrown by one of the numerous earthquakes which have shaken
Seville in days gone by. The belfry above the Moorish portion of the
tower, which ends where the _solid_ walls stop, was put up in 1568, and
has a second rectangular stage of smaller dimensions above. Both these
are in keeping with the Moorish work below and in no way detract from
its beauty. On top of the small cupola which caps the whole is the
world-famed figure of Faith. Cast in bronze, with the banner of
Constantine spread out to the winds of heaven, this, the _Giraldilla_,
or weather-cock, moves to the slightest breeze. It is thirteen feet
high, and weighs one and a quarter tons. Over three hundred feet above
the ground, the wonder is--how did it get there? and how has it
preserved its equipoise these last three hundred years?
It is difficult to find a point from which one can see the Giralda
Tower, in fact the only street from which it is visible from base to
summit is the one in which I made my sketch. Even this view does not
really convey its marvellous elegance and beauty.
Next to the Cathedral the Alcázar is the most famous building in
Seville. It is now a royal residence in the early part of the year, and
when the King and Queen are there, no stranger under any pretext
whatever is admitted.
Its courtyards and gardens are its glory. The scent of orange blossom
perfumes the air, the fountains splash and play, all is still within
these fascinating courts save the tinkle of the water and cooing of
doves. Of its orange trees, one was pointed out to me which Pedro the
Cruel planted! and many others are known to be over two hundred years
old.
[Illustration: SEVILLE. IN THE ALCÁZAR, THE PATIO DE LAS DONCELLAS]
Of all its courts, the Patio de las Doncellas is the most perfect.
Fifty-two marble columns support the closed gallery and rooms above, and
the walls of the arcade are rich with glazed tiles.
Of all its chambers, the Hall of Ambassadors is the finest and is
certainly the architectural gem of the Alcázar. Its dome is a marvel of
Media Naranja form, and the frieze of window-shaped niches but adds to
its beauty.
Very little remains of the first Alcázar, which, by the way, is a
derivation of Al-Kasr or house of Cæsar, and the present building as it
now stands was due to Pedro the Cruel, Henry II., Charles V. and Philip
V. The first named employed Moorish workmen from Granada, who emulated,
under his directions, the newly finished Palace of the Alhambra. Many a
treacherous deed has taken place within these walls, and none more
loathsome than those credited to Pedro the Cruel. However, one thing can
be put to his credit and that is this fairy Palace, this flower from the
East, by the possession of which Seville is the gainer.
To the east of the Alcázar is the old Jewish quarter, the most puzzling
in plan, if plan it has, and the oldest part of Seville.
The balconies of the houses opposite one another almost touch; there
certainly, in some cases, would be no difficulty in getting across the
street by using them as steps, and if a laden donkey essayed the
passage below I doubt if he could get through. Poking about in these
narrow alley-ways one day, I fell into conversation with a _guardia
municipal_ who entertained me greatly with his own version of Seville's
history, which ended, as he melodramatically pointed down the lane in
which we were standing--"And here, señor, one man with a sword could
keep an army at bay, and"--this in confidence, whispered--"I should not
like to be the first man of the army"!
In almost every quarter of the city fine old houses are to be found
amidst most squalid and dirty surroundings. You may wander down some
mean _calle_, where children in dozens are playing on the uneven
pavement, their mothers sit about in the doorways shouting to one
another across the street. Suddenly a wall, windowless save for a row of
small openings under the roof, is met. A huge portal, above which is a
sculptured coat-of-arms, with some old knight's helmet betokening a
noble owner, is let into this, look inside, as you pass by--behind the
iron grille is a deliciously cool _patio_, full of palms and shrubs. A
Moorish arcade runs round supporting the glazed galleries of the first
floor. A man in livery sits in a rocking chair dosing with the eternal
cigarette between his lips. Beyond the first _patio_ you can see
another, a bigger one, which the sun is lighting up. The life in this
house is as different to the life of its next door neighbours as Park
Lane is to Shoreditch. One of these great houses--owned by the Duke of
Medinaceli--the Casa del Pilatos, has a large Moorish court, very
similar to those of the Alcázar. They will tell you in Seville, that
Pilate was a Spaniard, a lawyer, and failing to win the case for Christ,
left the Holy Land, where he had a good practice, and returned to Spain
to assist Ferdinand to drive out the Moors. "Yes, señor, he settled here
and built this fine house about five hundred years ago."
As a rule, in the better-class houses a porch opens into the street. On
the inner side of this there is always a strong iron gate with a grille
around to prevent any entry. These gates served a purpose in the days of
the Inquisition, when none knew if the Holy Office might not suddenly
descend upon and raid the house. Seville suffered terribly from the
horrors of those dark times; even now--when a ring at the bell calls
forth: "Who is there?" from the servant in the balcony above, before she
pulls the handle which connects with the catch that releases the lock of
the gate--the answer often is: "People of Peace." Some houses have
interior walls six feet thick and more, which being hollow contain
hiding-places with access from the roof by a rope.
In the heat of summer--and Seville is called the "frying-pan of
Europe"--when the temperature in the shade of the streets rises to over
115° Fahr. family life is spent below in the cool _patio_. A real house
moving takes place as the heat comes on. The upper rooms, which are
always inhabited in the winter, the kitchen, servants' rooms and all are
deserted, every one migrates with the furniture to the lower floors. The
upper windows are closed, shutters put up and a great awning drawn
across the top of the courtyard. Despite the great heat, summer is a
perfectly healthy period. No one dreams of going out in the daytime, and
all Seville begins life towards five o'clock in the afternoon; 2 A.M. to
4 A.M. being the time to retire for the night! Seville can be very gay,
and _Sevillanos_ worship the _Torrero_ or bull-fighter (_Toreador_ is a
word unknown to the Spaniard). If a favourite _Torrero_, who has done
well in the ring during the afternoon, enters the dining-room of a hotel
or goes into a café it is not unusual for every one at table to rise and
salute him.
[Illustration: SEVILLE. VIEW OVER THE TOWN]
There is another life in Seville, the life of the roofs. In early spring
before the great heat comes, and in autumn before the cold winds arrive,
the life of the roofs fascinated me. Up on the roofs in the dry
atmosphere, Seville's washing hangs out to air, and up on the roofs, in
the warm sun, with the hum of the streets far below, you will hear the
quaint song--so Arabian in character--of the _lavandera_, as she pegs
out the damp linen in rows. In the evening the click-a-click-click of
the castanets and the sound of the guitar, broken by merry laughter,
tells one that perhaps the _Sevillano_ has fathomed the mystery of
knowing how best to live. And as sundown approaches what lovely colour
effects creep o'er this city in the air! The light below fades from
housetop and _miradore_, pinnacle and dome, until the last rays of the
departing majesty touch the vane of the Giralda, that superb symbol of
Faith,--and all is steely grey.
Over the Guadalquiver lies Triana, and as I crossed the bridge for the
first time the remains of an old tower were pointed out to me on the
river bank. The subterranean passage through which the victims of the
Inquisition found their exit to another world in the dark waters below
is exposed to view, the walls having fallen away. It was therefore with
something akin to relief I reached the gipsy quarter in this quaint,
dirty suburb and feasted my eyes on the colours worn by its dark-skinned
people. The potteries of Triana are world-renowned, and still bear
traces in their output of Moorish tradition and design.
Seville's quays are the busiest part of the city, and the constant
dredging of the river permits of vessels of four thousand tons making
this a port of call.
Next to the Prado in Madrid, the Museum of Seville is more full of
interest than any other. It is here that Murillo is seen at his best.
The building was at one time the Convento de la Mercede founded by San
Ferdinand. The exhibits in the archæological portion nearly all come
from that ruin, the wonderful city of Italica. Among the best of
Murillo's work are _St. Thomas de Villa Nueva Distributing Alms_, _Saint
Felix of Cantalicio_ and a _Saint Anthony of Padua_. A large collection
of Zurbaran's works also hangs in the gallery, but his big composition
of the _Apotheosis of Saint Anthony_, is not so good as his
single-figure subjects, and none of these approach in quality the fine
_Monk_ in the possession of the Bankes family at Kingston Lacy in
Dorset.
Seville is the home of bull-fights. The first ever recorded took place
in 1405, in the Plaza del Triunfo, in honour of the birth of a son to
Henry II. of Castile. The world of Fashion takes the air every evening
in the beautiful Paseo de las Delicias. The humbler members of society
throng the walks watching their wealthier sisters drive down its fine
avenues--this daily drive being the only exercise the ladies of Seville
permit themselves to take.
It is a pretty sight to watch the carriages coming home as twilight
begins, and the last rays of the sun light up the Torre del Oro. Built
by the Almohades this Moorish octagon stood at the river extremity of
Moslem Seville. The golden yellow of the stone no doubt gave it the name
of "Borju-d-dahab," "the tower of gold," which has stuck to it under
Christian rule. But "how are the mighty fallen," and one of the glories
of the Moor debased. It is now an office used by clerks of the Port,
and, instead of the dignified tread of the sentinel, resounds to the
scribble of pens.
CORDOVA
It is hard to realise that the Cordova of to-day was, under the rule of
the Moor, a city famous all the world over and second only to the great
Damascus. Long before the Moor's beneficent advent, in the far-off days
of Carthage, Cordova was known as "the gem of the south." Its position
on the mighty Guadalquiver, backed by mountains on the north, always
seems to have attracted the best of those who conquered. In the time of
the Romans, Marcellus peopled it with poor Patricians from Rome, and
Cordova became Colonia Patricia, the capital of Hispania Ulterior. But
it was left to the Infidel to make it what is now so difficult to
realise--the first city in Western Europe.
The zenith of its fame was reached during the tenth century, when the
mighty Abderrhaman III., ruler of the Omayyades reigned, and did not
begin to decrease until the death of Almanzor at the beginning of the
next century. If we are to believe the historian Almakkari, Cordova
contained at one time a million inhabitants, for whose worship were
provided three hundred Mosques, and for whose ablutions nine hundred
baths were no more than was necessary. (The arch-destroyer of all things
Infidel, Philip II., demolished these.) It was the centre of art and
literature, students from all parts flocked hither, its wealth increased
and its fame spread, riches and their concomitant luxury made it the
most famous place in Western Europe. Nothing could exceed the grace and
elegance of its life, the courtly manners of its people, nor the
magnificence of its buildings.
From the years 711 to 1295, when Ferdinand drove him out, the cultivated
Moslem reigned in this his second Mecca. And now?--under Christian rule
it has dwindled down to what one finds it to-day--a quiet, partly
ruinous town. Of all its great buildings nothing remains to remind one
of the past but the ruins of the Alcázar--now a prison, a portion of its
walls, and the much mutilated Mesquita--the Cathedral.
[Illustration: CORDOVA. INTERIOR OF THE MESQUITA]
I could not at first entry grasp the size of this the second largest
church of any in existence. Coming suddenly into the cool shade of its
many pillared avenues, I felt as if transplanted into the silent depths
of a great forest. In every direction I looked the trunks of huge trees
apparently rose upwards in ordered array. The light here and there
filtered through gaps on to the red-tiled floor, which only made the
deception greater by its resemblance to the needles of a pine-wood or
the dead leaves of autumn. Then the organ boomed out a note and the deep
bass of a priest in the _coro_ shattered the illusion.
The first Mosque built on the site of Leovigild's Visigothic Cathedral,
occupied one-fifth of the present Mesquita. It was "Ceca" or House of
Purification, and a pilgrimage to it was equivalent to a visit to Mecca.
It contained ten rows of columns, and is that portion which occupies the
north-west corner ending at the south-east extremity where the present
_coro_ begins. This space soon became insufficient for the population,
and the Mosque was extended as far as the present Capilla de Nuestra
Señora de Villavicosia.
Subsequent additions were made by different rulers. The Caliph Al-Hakim
II., who followed Abderrhaman III., expanded its size by building
southwards as far as the inclination of the sloping ground would allow.
To him is due the third Mihrâb, or Holy of Holies, the pavement of which
is worn by the knees of the devout who went thus round the Mihrâb seven
times. This Mihrâb is the most beautiful chamber I came across in all
Spain. The Byzantine Mosaics which adorn it are among the most superb
that exist, the domed ceiling of the recess is hewn out of a solid block
of marble, and its walls, which Leo the Emperor of Constantinople sent
a Greek artist and skilled workmen to put up, are chiselled in marble
arabesques and moulded in stucco. The entrance archway to this gem of
the East, an intricate and well-proportioned feature, rests on two green
and two dark coloured columns. Close by is the private door of the
Sultan which led from the Alcázar to the Mesquita.
The last addition of all nearly doubled the size of the Mosque. Building
to the south was impracticable on account of the fall in the land
towards the river. Eastwards was the only way out of the difficulty
unless the beautiful Court of the Oranges was to be enclosed. Eastwards,
therefore, did Almanzor extend his building, and the whole space in this
direction from the transepts or _Crucero_ of the present church, in a
line north and south, was due to his initiative.
[Illustration: CORDOVA. THE CAMPANARIO TOWER]
The Mesquita at one time contained twelve hundred and ninety columns.
Sixty eight were removed to make room for the _Coro_, _Crucero_ and
_Capilla Major_, which is the portion reserved for service now. In the
_coro_, the extremely fine _silleria_, are some of the best in Spain.
The Lectern is very good Flemish work in brass of the sixteenth century.
The choir books are beautifully illuminated missals, especially those of
the "Crucifixion" and the "Calling of the Apostles." All this does not,
however, compensate for the partial destruction of the Mosque. So
thought the people of Cordova, who petitioned Charles V. in vain against
the alterations which have destroyed the harmony of the wonderful
building. When passing through the city at a later date and viewing the
mischief that had been done, the King rebuked the chapter thus: "You
have built here what you, or any one, might have built anywhere else;
but you have destroyed what was unique in the world."
Eight hundred and fifty columns now remain out of the above number. The
odd four hundred and forty occupied the place where now stand the rows
of orange trees in the courtyard, one time covered in, which is known as
the Patio de los Naranjos, or Court of the Oranges. The fountain used
for the ablutions of the Holy still runs with a crystal stream of pure
water, and is to-day the meeting place of all the gossips in Cordova.
Of the five gates to this enchanting court, that of the Puerta del
Perdon, over which rises the great Tower, el Campanario, is the most
important. It is only opened on state occasions. Erected in 1377 by
Henry II. it is an imitation of Moorish design. The immense doors are
plated with copper arabesques.
The exterior of the Mesquita is still Moorish despite the great church
which has been thrust through the centre and rises high above the flat
roof of the remainder of the Mosque. A massive terraced wall with
flame-shaped battlements encircles the whole, the view of which from the
bridge over the river is more Eastern than anything else I saw in Spain.
This fine bridge, erected by the Infidel on Roman foundations, is
approached at the city end by a Doric gateway, built by Herrera in the
reign of Philip II., that Philip who married Mary of England. It
consists of sixteen arches and is guarded at its southern extremity by
the _Calahorra_ or Moorish Tower, round which the road passes instead of
through a gateway, thus giving additional security to the defence.
The mills of the Moslem's day still work, both above and below bridge,
and the patient angler sits in the sun with his bamboo rod, while the
wheels of these relics groan and hum as they did in days gone by. More
cunning is Isaac Walton's disciple who fishes from the bridge itself. A
dozen rods with heavily weighted lines, for the Guadalquiver runs swift
beneath the arches, and a small bell attached to the end of each rod is
his armament. And when the unwary fish impales himself on the hook and
the bell gives warning of a bite, the excitement is great. Greater still
when a peal begins as three or four rods bend!
[Illustration: CORDOVA. THE BRIDGE]
The beggars of Cordova were the most importunate that fate sent across
my path in the whole of Spain. I found it impossible to sit in the
streets where I would gladly have planted my easel, and it was only by
standing with my back to the wall that I was able to make my sketch of
the Campanario. These streets are tortuous and narrow, and the houses,
built on the Moorish plan with a beautiful _patio_ inside, are low. At
many a corner I came across marble columns, some with Roman
inscriptions, probably from Italica, placed against the house to prevent
undue wear and tear. In the narrowest ways I noticed how the load borne
by the patient ass had scooped out a regular track on either wall about
three or four feet from the ground. Wherever I went, to the oldest
quarters of the town in the south-east corner or the modern in the
north-west, I could never rid myself of the feeling that Cordova was a
city of the past. Her life is more Eastern than that of Seville, and her
people bear more traces of the Moor. Decay and ruin are apparent at
every turn, but how picturesque it all is!--the rags, the squalor, and
the ruin. How I anathematised those beggars with no legs, or minus arms,
when I tried to begin a street sketch! The patience of Job would not
have helped me, it was the loathsomeness of these cripples that drove me
away. Begging is prohibited in Seville and Madrid and in one or two
other towns, would that it were so in Cordova.
Away up in the southern slopes of the Sierra de Cordoba stands the
Convento de San Jerónimo, now a lunatic asylum. Built out of the ruins
of the once magnificent Medînat-az-zahrâ, the Palace that Abderrhaman
III. erected, its situation is perfect. In the old days this palace
surpassed all others in the wonders of its art and luxury. The plough
still turns up ornaments of rare workmanship, but like so many things in
Spain its glories have departed.
Yes, Cordova has seen its grandest days, the birthplace of Seneca,
Lucan, Averroes, Juan de Mena--the Spanish Chaucer--Morales, and many
another who became famous, can now boast at best with regard to human
celebrities as being the Government establishment for breaking in horses
for the cavalry. Certainly the men employed in this are fine dashing
specimens of humanity, and they wear a very picturesque dress. But
Cordova like her world-famed sons, sleeps--and who can say that it would
be better now if her sleep were broken?
[Illustration: CORDOVA. FOUNTAIN IN THE COURT OF ORANGES]
GRANADA
Spread out on the edge of a fertile plain at the base of the Sierra
Nevada, Granada basks in the sun; and though the wind blows cold with an
icy nip from the snows of the highest peaks in Spain, I cannot but think
that this, the last stronghold of the Moors, is the most ideal situation
of any place I have been in.
The city is divided into three distinct districts, each with its own
peculiar characteristics. The Albaicin, Antequeruela, and Alhambra. The
first named covers the low ground and the hills on the bank of the
Darro, a gold-bearing stream which rushes below the Alhambra hill on the
north. The second occupies the lower portion of the city which slopes on
to the plain, and the Alhambra rises above both, a well-nigh demolished
citadel, brooding over past glories of the civilised Moor, the most
fascinating spot in all Spain.
The Albaicin district is practically the rebuilt Moorish town, where the
aristocrats of Seville and Cordova settled when driven out of those
cities by St. Ferdinand in the thirteenth century. Many traces remain
to remind one of their occupation in the tortuous streets which wind up
the steep hill sides, and the wall which they built for greater security
is still the boundary of the city on the north. The Albaicin is a grand
place to wander in and lose oneself hunting for relics and little bits
of architecture. At every turn of the intricate maze I came across
something of interest, either Moorish or Mediæval. A mean looking house
with a fine coat-of-arms over the door had evidently been built by a
knight with the collector's craze. He had specialised in millstones; a
round dozen or more were utilised in the lower portions of the wall and
looked strange with stones set in the plaster between them. A delicious
_patio_, now given over to pigs and fowls, with a broken-down fountain
in the centre of its ruined arcaded court, recalled the luxuries of the
Infidel. The terraced gardens standing behind and above many a blank
wall carried me back to those days of old when the opulence of the East
pervaded every dwelling in this Mayfair of Granada. Of all these the
Casa del Chapiz, though degraded into a low-class dwelling, is with its
beautiful garden the most perfect remnant of the exotic Moor.
[Illustration: GRANADA. CARRERA DE DARRO]
In the Carrera de Darro, just opposite the spot where once a handsome
Moorish arch spanned the stream, stands a house wherein is a Moorish
bath surrounded by horseshoe arcades. The bath is 18 ft. square, and in
the vaulted recess beyond is one of smaller dimensions commanding more
privacy for the cleanly Eastern whose day was never complete without
many ablutions.
Not far away up the hillside, in cave-dwellings amidst an almost
impenetrable thicket of prickly pears, live the _gitanos_. I fear they
now exist on the charity of the tourist, and make a peseta or two by
fortune-telling or in the exercise of a more reprehensible cleverness, a
light-fingered dexterity which is generally only discovered by those who
"must go to the gipsy quarter" on their return to the hotel. These
gipsies no longer wander in the summer months and lie up for the winter
as they did of yore. They are not the Romanies of old times, and a
nomadic life holds no charm for them now. They make enough out of the
tourist to eke out a lazy existence throughout the year, and are fast
losing all the character of a wandering tribe and the lively splendour
of their race.
Higher up, the banks of the Darro are lined with more cave-dwellings, a
great many of which, to judge by their present inaccessibility, are
undoubtedly of prehistoric origin. Those that I took to be of later date
have a sort of level platform in front of the entrance, from which the
approach of a stranger could be seen and due warning taken by those
inside of any hostile intent.
The Antequeruela quarter, called thus from the remnant of Moorish
refugees who driven from Antequera found here a home, extends from the
base of Monte Mauro to some distance below the confluence of the Darro
and Genil, Granada's other river. It is the most modern quarter and
busiest part of the city.
The life of an ordinary Spanish town passes in front of me as I sit in
the sun sharing a seat with an old man wrapped closely in a _capa_. It
is April. We are in the Alameda, a broad promenade which leads to the
gardens of the Paseo de Salòn and de la Bomba. On either side are many
coloured houses with green shutters. They are very French, and to this
day I try to recall the town in France where I had seen them before. How
often this happens when we travel abroad!--a face, a scent, a sound.
Memory racks the tortuous channels of half-forgotten things stored away
somewhere in the brain, and for days with an irritating restlessness we
wander fruitlessly amid the paths of long ago.
I turned to my companion on the seat, he looked chilled despite the
warmth of an April sun. "Tell me, sir, to whom does all the fine country
of the Vega belong?" "Absent landlords, señor; they take their rents
and they live in Madrid, and the poor man has no one to care for him."
"But surely he begs and does not wish to work or to be cared for. The
beggars in Granada are more numerous than in any place I know." "That is
true, señor," and with a shake he relapsed into silence, drawing his
_capa_ closer around him. The turn the conversation had taken was not
worth pursuing.
New buildings are superseding the old in Antequeruela, and poverty and
squalor pushed further out of the sight of El Caballero, his Highness
the tourist. Æsthetically we appreciate the picturesque side of poverty,
the tumble-down houses, the rags, the graceful attitudes of the patient
poor for ever shifting in the patches of sunlight as the great
life-giver moves round. Dinner will be ready for us at 7 o'clock in the
hotel, there would be no call to leave home if every town we came to was
clean and its people prosperous. "But what about _Los Pobres_, the
beggars?" you ask. "Are they really deserving of charity, or only lazy
scoundrels?" I cannot answer you. I can only tell you that I have never
seen such terrible emaciated bundles of rags as those I saw in Granada.