their capitals are simple and their bases the same. The little light
that glimmers through the windows adds greatly to the sombre strength of
this fine building, which, more than any other of its size, reflects the
life of the Spain of those days in which it was erected. Street thinks
it less influenced by outside art than any other building in the
country, and instances the unique method of laying the stone of the root
as supporting this opinion.
The transepts contain some good glass, as also do the windows in the
chancel. There are many good early tombs throughout the Cathedral.
Judging from their style Avila was left alone when Chirriguera was
erecting monstrosities elsewhere, and to me it is the most homogeneous
of Spain's Cathedrals. The _retablo_ over the High Altar rises in three
stages and contains pictures by Berruguete, Santos Cruz and Juan de
Borgoña. On this account my last remark might be criticised, for the
whole piece is a jumble of styles. The chancel is, however, too narrow
for a view of this medley from the body of the church, and wherever one
roams in the building nothing attracts the eye or disturbs the mind by
being too flagrantly incongruous.
So dark is the apse that the Renaissance _trassegrario_ does not obtrude
in the early Gothic of its surroundings. The very fine tomb of Bishop
Alfonso de Madrigal, the Solomon of his day, is fortunately illumined by
a little light, and I could see the effigy of this wise Prelate seated
at his desk busily engaged with his pen and scroll, while above him the
Magi and Shepherds are adoring in a good relief.
There are some early paintings in most of the chapels, the _retablo_ in
that of San Pedro being perhaps the best.
The work of Cornielis, a Flemish sculptor, _circa_ 1537-47, is admirably
displayed in the very beautiful carving of the _silleria de coro_, and
there is no better example of Spanish metal work of the fifteenth
century to be found than in the two iron-gilt pulpits.
The sacristy contains a splendid silver monstrance by Arfe, and an
Italian enamelled chalice of the fourteenth century by Petrucci Orto of
Siena. The cloisters are disappointing, having been much mutilated and
the fourteenth-century tracery of the arches blocked up.
Avila, like its neighbour Segovia, contains some of the best examples of
Romanesque work, and its many churches are archæologically as
interesting as the Cathedral.
Sheltering from the keen north wind under the arcade of San Vicente I
made a sketch of the gateway of that name. The church was founded in
1307 and dedicated to three martyrs who were put to death on the rock
which may still be seen in the crypt below. The west façade has two
incomplete towers, between which is a most elaborately carved Romanesque
doorway, standing in a deeply recessed arch.
[Illustration: AVILA. PUERTA DE SAN VICENTE]
The pure Romanesque nave has both triforium and clerestory and the
unusual feature of pointed vaulting. The proportions of this noble
church are very fine, but the interest of the non-architectural visitor
will be centred in the Tomb of San Vicente and his two sisters SS.
Sabina and Cristeta. A metal work canopy resting on twisted columns
surmounts the tomb which is a sarcophagus of the thirteenth century. The
legend tells how, after the martyrdom of these three, the body of the
first-named was cast out to the dogs, and that a serpent came out of the
hole in the rock (still visible) and watched over it. A Jew who mocked
was smitten unto death by the reptile and lies buried in the south
transept.
The transept choir and three semicircular apses are Transitional, and
carry a barrel vaulting.
Outside the city wall, a little way down the hillside and beyond the
dirty suburb that intervenes, is the late Gothic church of San Tomás. It
possesses a fine _retablo_ of the patron St. Thomas Aquinas. The High
Altar is placed in a gallery above a low elliptical arch, this feature
being repeated at the west end with the _coro_ above. At the crossing of
the transepts is the beautiful but greatly mutilated tomb of Prince
Juan, the only son of Ferdinand and Isabella, by whose untimely death
the crown of Spain passed to Austria. Two other tombs of great interest
are those of Juan de Avila and Juana Velasquez. Messer Dominco, the
Florentine, executed them both.
San Pedro, standing at the east side of the Mercado Grande, is another
Romanesque church of great beauty. Over the west door is a fine wheel
window. The interior is pure Romanesque and rich in ornament, and the
north portal is replete with the same.
Santa Teresa was born of noble parents in Avila. In her early youth her
heart hungered for saintly adventures in the broiling sun of Africa and
her mind was set upon martyrdom at the hands of the Moors. Fate,
however, decreed otherwise. At twenty years of age she took the veil and
within a few years had founded seventeen convents of bare-footed
Carmelite nuns. A favourite saint of Spain, the date of her death,
August 27, is kept all over the Peninsula and her festival celebrated
with great honour in Avila on October 15.
SEGOVIA
Dirty, dilapidated and sleepy, but the most enchanting town in Spain.
What a treat it was to find myself once more in the Middle Ages after
the bustle and noise of Madrid!
The springs of a Spanish 'bus are good. I never entered one without
great misgivings as to how long I was fated to remain in this world. To
drive into a town such as Segovia is a grand test for the nerves. Crack
goes the whip, off start the sorry-looking horses with a jerk. I am
flung violently against my neighbour. I hasten to apologise. A
disconcerting jolt knocks the hat over my eyes, before it is adjusted I
find myself in an attitude of prayer with my head buried in the lap of
the stout lady who pants opposite, another bump and she is embracing me,
we disentangle ourselves, we apologise, every one in the 'bus is doing
the same. The Jehu on the box fears no obstacles, a rock or a rut, they
are all the same to him, he takes them all with utter disregard to
everything in his way. We fly along, and somehow we land safely. We
always do. Yes, the steel of those spiderlike springs must be good, or
the saints are watching our venture. Perhaps both.
The scenery on the journey from Madrid is very fine after the train
leaves the junction at Villalba. Slowly we crawled up the incline
winding round and doubling on our course. Merry little snow-fed streams
eager to join with their fellows below sped along in a race to the sea.
The summer villas of the Madrileños dot the hill slopes on the ground
above the withy beds. We went up and up until the highest point on the
line was reached under the road along which, marching north, Napoleon's
troops toiled in the face of a fearful blizzard. Before entering the
tunnel at the top of the pass a glorious panorama is spread out to the
south. Away in the distance are the mountains of Toledo and the spires
of far-off Madrid. On leaving this point the descent became rapid, and
we whirled through a magnificent valley amidst true Alpine scenery. The
rugged tops of the Sierra rose above thick forests of pine, brawling
torrents dashed headlong down through green pastures, grand cattle were
browsing on every side, it was indeed more Swiss than Spanish.
[Illustration: SEGOVIA AT SUNSET]
One often hears the question asked--why are there no trees in Spain? A
French writer answers, that the Moors are responsible for the lack of
shade in a Spanish landscape. He tells us they cut down all the trees
they found, because trees harbour birds, and birds destroy all fruit and
grain!--a truly ingenious theory, quite worthy of the fertile brains of
the French, but surely a most ridiculous solution. The Moor brought the
orange and the lemon to Europe; he was a lover of shade, he was also a
great gardener. No, the reason why Spain has apparently no trees, is
that very few have been planted for hundreds of years. Wood is necessary
for fires in a country where there is practically no coal. The peasant
has always been poor, he has always taken anything that came to hand. He
helped himself to the wood of the forests around him. His betters did
the same. All the trees near Madrid are known to have been ruthlessly
cut down and sold to defray the expenses of Philip II.'s Court; and it
is only of recent years that any replanting has been taken in hand.
When the present King was a boy of four years old, a ceremony, now
repeated every year at the Fiesta del Arbol, was inaugurated. The Queen
Mother took him to Guindebra outside Madrid, where he planted several
trees. At every anniversary the day is devoted by school children all
over the country to this same object. As many as 10,000 saplings have
been put into the ground in a single day, thus laying by a store of
wealth for future generations.
Segovia is surrounded by trees. Hidden from the great plain in which the
town lies, they cover the banks of the two streams which join issue
below the city, thus forming the mass of rock on which it stands. These
valleys, eaten out by the running water, are among the great charms of
this romantic place. Nothing can exceed the beauty of early spring.
Fruit trees in full blossom, tall poplars bending their graceful heads
in the breeze and chestnuts bursting into leaf. The air is filled with
the twitterings of nesting birds, the sloping banks covered with the
tender green of young grass; all nature is alive, the sun is warm and
the sound of rushing waters brings peace to the soul. Perched high up,
hanging apparently on mighty rocks, the Alcázar broods grimly over the
gorge below. Still further up and beyond, rises the mass of the
Cathedral, towers, domes and pinnacles. Three hundred and thirty feet
high, the great tower rears itself like a sentinel, a landmark for many
miles. Round the base cluster the houses of the town like chickens
seeking shelter under the wings of a mother hen. No place in all Spain
appealed to me so much. No town was so replete with subjects for my
brush, and nowhere else did I feel the romance of this marvellous
country as in Segovia.
[Illustration: SEGOVIA. THE AQUEDUCT]
A town of Iberian origin and name, under the Roman rule it was of some
importance. The great aqueduct, which spans the valley that divides
Segovia in the Plaza del Azoquéjo, brought pure water from a mountain
torrent, the Rio Frio, ten miles away. It does the same to-day.
Constructed of granite blocks, laid Cyclopean fashion without mortar or
cement, it commences near San Gabriel. To break the force of the rushing
stream the conduit has many angles. Without doubt it is the most
important Roman remain in Spain, for this alone Segovia would be famous.
Once upon a time his Satanic Majesty fell desperately in love with a
beautiful Segovian. To further his suit, an offer was made to do
anything she might require. Her home was on a hill; her work, to fetch
water from the stream below. Finding the continual tramp down and up
rather irksome, this daughter of Eve bethought herself of a request to
mitigate her toil. "Done," said the Evil One, and the aqueduct was built
in one night! In terror she fled to the church, and the church
discovered that one stone had been left out, also that the aqueduct was
extremely useful. The contract was declared void and the maiden freed
from the rash promise she had playfully given his majesty. The country
folk still know it by the name of the Puento del Diabolo.
During the siege of Segovia, the Moors destroyed thirty-five of the
arches, but these were cleverly rebuilt in 1493 by Juan Escovedo, a
monk of El Parral, who received the scaffolding in payment for his work.
More recently, extensive repairs in the same way have been successfully
carried out. The most imposing view is in the Plaza del Azoquéjo, from
which it towers upwards in a double line of arches one above the other,
and its length is best grasped from El Calvario, a hill to the south of
the town.
The Cathedral is a late Gothic pile, built of a warm yellow stone, and
looks particularly impressive from the shady walk among the rocks on the
left bank of the Clamores, the stream which cuts off Segovia from the
southern plateau. It was begun in 1525 by the builder of Salamanca's
Cathedral which it greatly resembles, Juan Gil de Hontañon, and
continued at his death by his son. The weak point in the exterior, which
masses very grandly, is the western façade. The interior is very
striking. The wide span of the arches, the richness of the admirable
vaulting, the splendid late Gothic windows and the feeling of light and
space are fine examples of the last stage of Gothic work, just before
the influence of the oncoming Renaissance took hold of the architects of
that day. The floor is beautifully laid with red, blue and white
diamond-shaped slabs of marble; and the very necessary notice--"No
escupir, la religiosidad y higiene la prohibur"--keeps it clean and
decent.
In the _coro_, which occupies nearly the whole of the centre of the
nave, there is a _retablo_ by Sabatini. The _silleria_ are very fine.
They were rescued from the old Cathedral, which was destroyed in Charles
V.'s time by the Comunéros, who started business by pulling down
churches, appropriating all they could lay hands on, plundering the
wealthy and generally behaving as a mob that has the upper hand always
does. The outer walls of the _coro_ are stucco, painted to represent
different species of marble; described, by the way, in a reputable guide
book--"beautifully coloured marbles"!
Most of the _rejas_ which shut off the side chapels are good gilded iron
work. In that of la Piedad there is a good _retablo_ with life-sized
figures by Juan de Juni, 1571; and in the chapel of the Segragrio a
wooden figure of Christ by Alonso Cano. Through a fine Gothic portal in
the Capilla del Cristo del Consuelo I entered the cloisters in company
with a verger, who took great pride in his Cathedral. These cloisters
are surpassingly beautiful; a very good example of flamboyant Gothic. In
vain did I search for a corner from which to make a sketch. The
courtyard was overgrown with shrubs, tall cypresses and vines climbing
at random shut out everything. The garden itself was a mass of rubbish
and old timber. The well in the centre, overgrown with creepers and
weeds; while in the cloisters themselves preparations were afoot for the
coming Easter processions, and all available space taken up by
carpenters and painters at work on the Pasos.
In the little dark chapel of Santa Catalina on the west side, is the
tiny tomb of the unfortunate Infante Pedro, the three-year-old son of
Henry II. The poor little child was dropped by his nurse from a window
in the Alcazar, and ended his young life on the rocks below. 'Tis a
pitiful object this pathetic tomb, alone, here in this damp spot where
daylight only enters when the door is opened.
In the sacristy there is a Custodia in the form of a temple, six feet
high, silver and exquisitely chased. The vestments possessed by the
clergy are most rarely worked and of great value.
Segovia was once rich in churches. Like the rest of the city, a great
many have alas! fallen into decay, and those not in this state are
rapidly approaching it. They are mostly small and retain the apse.
Several are cloistered and every one of them is architecturally of great
interest. Here again is another charm of this romantic old city,
evidence of past glories and ecclesiastical power, the history of Spain
written in its stones.
[Illustration: SEGOVIA. PLAZA MAYOR]
San Millan, a Romanesque structure of the twelfth century, is the best
preserved church in Segovia. The exquisite arcades on the north and
south sides have coupled columns with elaborately carved capitals. Like
most of the buildings of this period solidity rather than grace was the
effect aimed at by their architects. It possesses a triple apse; the
piers supporting the roof are very massive, the capitals to the columns
are formed of semi-grotesque figures of man and beast. The two doorways
are good. In the church of San Martin there is a carved wooden Passion.
Four life-sized figures take the place of shafts in the great doorway,
and again a cloister forms the exterior of the south and west walls.
In the Dominican convent of Santa Cruz, founded by Ferdinand and
Isabella, is still to be seen a sepulchral urn of one of the original
companions of St. Dominic. "Tanto monta" the motto of the King and Queen
is cut both inside and out on the walls. Over the west portal are good
reliefs of the Crucifixion and the Pietà. La Vera Cruz, a church built
by the Templars in 1204, is difficult of access. I procured the key
after much trouble, and found the twelve-sided nave forming a sort of
ambulatory round the central walled-in chamber. It is an imitation of
the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. The Templars were suppressed in 1312,
so this gem had but a short existence as their house of prayer.
Nestling amidst a grove of acacia trees, hidden away under the rock, is
the Santuario de Fuencisla. Built to commemorate the miraculous rescue
of Maria del Salto, a beautiful Jewess, this little sanctuary is much
affected by pilgrims. The rock which overshadows it is known as La Peña
Grajera, or "Crow's Cliff," taking this name from the multitude of
carnivorous birds who always assembled here for a meal after a victim
had been hurled down to expiate his crime in a death below. Maria,
accused of adultery, was led to the top and pushed off the edge to find
the fate of so many before her. With great presence of mind she called
loudly on the Virgin, who hearing, came to her assistance; and so
retarded her downward flight that she alighted gently, escaping unhurt.
Here in days long gone by lived a hermit, whose good life and deeds are
still a much-reverenced legend among Segovians.
The monastery of El Parral, once a wealthy and powerful house of the
brotherhood of San Gerónimo, contains a very good _retablo_ by Diego de
Urbina. It was founded by a member of the great Pacheco family, who
fought three antagonists one after another and came off successful. He
vowed to build a church on the spot where his skill and prowess gave
him so splendid a victory, and to endow it as well. It is now a convent
of Franciscan nuns.
Next in importance to the Cathedral is the comparatively new building of
the Alcázar. Standing high up on the crags, below which the Eresma and
Clamores meet, it occupies an unrivalled position. A fine view of this
truly Castilian fortress is obtained from the beautiful walk which
encircles the city on the further bank of each stream. Above the tall
poplars and thick scrub rise its turrets and spires. The massive walls
go sheer up from the rock on which their foundations rest. The huge
embattled tower and drawbridge assist the feeling of strength; and it
only requires the weathering of years, adding broken colour to the
somewhat new-looking exterior, to make this a perfect specimen of
mediæval architecture.
The building was originally Moorish, but the many vicissitudes of
troublous times saw it in a bad state when Henry IV., "el Impotente,"
repaired and made it his residence. Within its walls Isabella was
proclaimed Queen of Castile in 1474. Cabrera, the husband of her
greatest friend, Beatrice of Boabdilla, held the fortress and its
treasure, and it was mainly through his valour that Isabella succeeded
to the throne. During the Comunéros insurrection the Alcázar held out
for Charles V. At the quelling of the revolt Charles did all in his
power to thoroughly restore the building and furnish it with great
splendour. His son Philip added much that the father's death had left
unfinished. Our own King, Charles I., was here entertained, and Gil Blas
confined a prisoner. The great fire, originated by some of the students
of the military college, almost entirely destroyed the whole castle in
1862. The present edifice dates from shortly after that year and is now
used as a storehouse for military archives and an academy for artillery
officers.
A very good gateway spans the road that leads out past the Santuario de
Fuencisla along the right bank of the Eresma. The river here is an ideal
looking trout stream, but alas! fish are not as plentiful now as when
Charles I. was entertained and fed on "fatte troute" in the Alcázar.
Follow the path over the bridge to the left, it soon narrows into a mere
goat track as it skirts the rock; a few steps farther on and the
wonderful position of the fortress-castle bursts into view. How
fascinating it looked as I saw it one night in the moonlight with the
silver beams glinting on its spires. All was very still as I entered the
wood of stunted pines beyond. Across the ravine rose the mighty
Cathedral silhouetted against a dark star-laden sky. A light here and
there shone from a window in the houses beneath. I heard the distant
cry of the watchman on his rounds. A faint scent from the heavy dew rose
to my nostrils, a scent of mother earth. It was with unwilling steps I
crossed the stream and sought my bed that night. Such moments are rare.
On the left bank of the Eresma, almost hidden in the trees, stands a
building which once was the mint of Spain. Up till the year 1730 all
Spain's money was coined here, the proximity to the impregnable Alcázar,
which was used as the Treasury, affording security against untimely
raids. The old mint is now a flour mill, but still bears the royal arms
over its gateway.
At one time Segovia was the great Castilian mart for wool. The church,
and monasteries of El Parral, El Paular, and the Escorial owning immense
flocks. These were driven to the pure waters of the Eresma, to be
cleansed before being shorn. After the sheep-washing, the animals were
put into the sweating house, and their legs tied together. The shearer
then commenced operations, and as each sheep passed out of his hands it
was branded; the shepherds standing by made a selection of the older
animals for the butcher, the remainder being taken away to their
mountain pastures. Even now there are many flocks in the country around,
particularly on the lower hills near La Granja, where I noticed a large
number not at all unlike the Kentish breed of Romney Marsh.
Seven miles from Segovia the summer Royal Palace of La Granja lies in
the midst of beautiful woods and clear streams. At the foot of the
Sierra, the highest peak of which, La Peñalara, raises its crest a few
miles off, this elysium is a beautiful spot for those who have earned a
holiday from the cares of State. The gardens are most charmingly
arranged, and the fountains with a never ending supply of water, better
than those at Versailles. Built by Philip V., whose tastes and
inclinations were thoroughly French, La Granja has been the scene of
important events in the history of the country. The treaty which handed
Spain over to France in 1796 was here signed by Godoy. In 1832 Ferdinand
VII. revoked the decree by which he had abolished the Salic law, and
summoned Don Carlos to the palace as heir to the throne, a call which
plunged his unhappy country into civil war. Four years later the Queen
Regent was compelled within its walls, by the leader of the
revolutionary soldiery, to accept the constitution of Cadiz.
Every corner of Spain holds history, but none can compare with Segovia
and its surroundings in romance and old-world charm.
SARAGOSSA
Saragossa lies midway on the railway between Madrid and Barcelona, and,
having about it a touch of both these, can qualify as one of Spain's
progressive cities. The unsightly factory chimney is beginning to sprout
up in the suburbs; old and narrow streets are making way for broader and
better; and insanitary quarters giving place to modern hygiene.
Aragon is the poorest portion of this fair land, and Saragossa is its
capital. In every age this little kingdom has been torn by war and has
suffered heavily, but its people have never wavered in their faith, and
are still among the most pious and superstitious of the many different
races that people the Iberian Peninsula. They possess that strong
attachment for their sterile plains and barren mountains so common to
those who wring from Nature a bare existence.