and gave it the title of Cæsarea Augusta. When in the occupation of Rome
it was a free city and had a coinage of its own. The first place in
Spain to renounce Paganism, Saragossa has always been a city of great
holiness. When besieged by the French under Childebert in 540, the
inhabitants carried the stole of San Vicente round the walls--and the
invader fled.
The Infidel, however, proved less susceptible to a Christian relic, and
the city fell to the weight of his arms in the eighth century. Being a
Berber Infidel he recognised no Kalif of Cordova, and between the two
there soon began one of those internecine conflicts that in the end led
to the termination of Moorish rule.
It was in this connection that Charlemagne was implored to assist the
Northern Moor against the Andalusian and crossed the Pyrenees with an
eye, no doubt, in the long run, to the acquisition of new territory. No
sooner had he reached the plains of Aragon than he was recalled to quell
a rising in his own dominions. His back turned, and he being presumably
in retreat, the ungrateful people, eager for plunder, followed and
inflicted on his rearguard a terrible defeat in the most famous Pyrenean
Pass, the Pass of Roncesvalles, a disaster in which Roland, that hero of
romance, lost his life.
Thence onward, as the centuries went by, Saragossa was the scene of many
a fight. Alfonso I. in 1118 recovered it from the Moor after a long
siege, and Moslem rule was ended.
[Illustration: SARAGOSSA. LA SEO]
Saragossa is best known in the annals of its warfare for the heroic
defence, immortalised by Byron, in the war with France. In the month of
May 1808, the invader was close at hand, and the citizens organised
themselves for defence. A young aristocrat, José Palafox, was chosen as
the nominal leader, and had at his right hand the redoubtable peasant,
Tio Jorge Ibort--Gaffer George. His two lieutenants were Mariano Cerezo
and Tio Marin, while the courageous priest Santiago Sas assisted
greatly, through his influence with the populace, to keep things
together and prevent petty squabbles. One hundred _duros_ supplied the
sinews of war! Sixteen cannon, a few old muskets and two hundred and
twenty fighting men were all that the leaders could count upon to repel
the army of Lefebvre.
The siege began in June and was abandoned in August, in consequence of
the disaster to Dupont at Bailén. In the following December four
Marshals of France, Junot, Lannes, Mortier and Moncey, with eighteen
thousand men, invested the city, but it was not until February of the
next year that, having driven the defenders out of the Jesuit convent
across the river, the French were able to establish a foothold in the
outskirts of the city itself.
Every one knows how the Maid of Saragossa took the place of her dead
artillery lover who was killed at his gun; an episode that has since
become a theme to instil the young with heroic ideals. Such was the
spirit that gained for the city the proud title of _siempre heróica_.
Her citizens fought from house to house, every street had barricades,
and it was only that when decimated by pestilence and famine, with half
the place a smoking ruin, one of the most celebrated sieges of history
came to end.
As in Cadiz and Salamanca, there are two Cathedrals in Saragossa, La Seo
and El Pilar. The former occupies the site of a church which stood here
before the Moors took possession of the place and turned it into a
mosque. A year after the advent of Alfonso I., Bishop Pedro de Lebrana
reconsecrated La Seo, and its walls have witnessed many historical
events in the life of Aragon before the kingdom became merged into one
with Castile. It was before the High Altar that her Kings were crowned,
and at the font many a royal babe baptized.
La Seo is constructed almost entirely of the dull brown brick with which
the older part of the city is also built; the interior piers and
vaulting alone being of stone. On the north-east wall, which faces the
gloomy palace of the archbishop, there is still extant the most
elaborate arrangement of brick work, inlaid with coloured glazed tiles,
blue, green, red, white and yellow, forming a very harmonious and
attractive scheme.
From the centre of the north-west façade, which is extremely ugly, rises
a well-proportioned tower arranged in four stages, with Corinthian
columns, the top of which is surmounted by a red tiled cupola and spire.
The colour of this took my fancy, it "sang out" so much against the blue
of the sky--a contrast I thought worthy of an illustration.
Entering the building by the door in the façade, I was immediately
nonplussed as to the orientation of the Cathedral. To add to the puzzle,
for the structure is almost square, four rows of columns seemed mixed up
in endless confusion, and the dim light admitted from the few windows
only accentuated the mystery. Very beautiful, however, is this Gothic
interior which runs north-east and south-west, and I soon found a spot
from whence to make a sketch. The columns rise from marble bases of a
rich crimson; the vaulting above was lost in gloom, the light coming in
from the south-west window struck vividly on portions of the Renaissance
_respaldos_, the niches of which are filled with saints and
archbishops, and the pattern of the marble floor served but to heighten
the general effect. In the picture may be seen a tabernacle with twisted
black marble columns, this marks the spot where the Virgin suddenly
appeared and held converse with Canónigo Fuenes.
Besides the archbishop's throne, the _coro_, which is not particularly
interesting, contains a huge reading desk. There is a great deal of
alabaster throughout the Cathedral, notably the very fine Gothic
_retablo_ of the High Altar by Dalman de Mur, around which are many
tombs of the Kings of Aragon. Close by, a black slab marks the place
where rests the heart of Don Baltazar Carlos, the son of Philip IV., who
was immortalised by the brush of Velasquez, and who died in Saragossa at
the early age of seventeen.
Among the chapels, that used as the _segrario_, or parish church, has a
magnificent Moorish ceiling, and the fine alabaster tomb of Bernardo de
Aragon. The Cathedral is rich in splendid tapestries and ecclesiastical
vestments. Among the former is certainly the best I have ever set eyes
upon. It is a very early piece and has a wonderful blue sky. In it are
woven the Last Supper, Christ bearing the Cross, the Agony in the Garden
and the Crucifixion, while in the lower right-hand corner our Saviour is
assisting with a long pole to stir up devils who are roasting in Hades.
Among the vestments is an extremely beautiful chasuble brought here at
the time of the Reformation from Old St. Paul's in London. I wondered,
when I looked at it, whether Catherine of Aragon, Henry VIII.'s consort,
had been instrumental in its removal from England.
[Illustration: SARAGOSSA. IN THE OLD CATHEDRAL]
The Cathedral of El Pilar is thus named as it possesses the identical
pillar on which the Virgin descended from Heaven and appeared to St.
James. At first a modest chapel, it has grown by the addition of
cloisters and subsidiary chapels to the present stupendous building. The
length is close on five hundred feet and the breadth two hundred. The
possession of this miraculous pillar has brought untold wealth to the
Cathedral. Votive offerings on the anniversary of the festival at the
shrine often amount to many thousands of pounds. Jewelry, gems and
costly objects of every description are given; these are now sold by
auction, the large sum of £20,000 being realised a few years ago. To
these sales we owe a fine rock crystal and gold medallion, given to the
Virgin of El Pilar by Henry IV. of France, and now in South Kensington
Museum. Many examples of old Spanish goldsmith's work have also been
acquired for the same collection in this way.
The towers and pinnacles of El Pilar pile up grandly, and are best seen
from the fine bridge which spans the yellow flood of the river Ebro.
Silhouetted against the evening sky, with the smooth running waters
below, it seemed to me a worthy example in brick and stone of the
church's magnificence.
The interior is an immense temple, the frescoes of which are from the
brush of that extraordinary genius, Goya, who turned his talent to any
job that was productive of the cash he spent so freely. The _retablo_ of
the High Altar is a fine piece of work from the alabaster quarries at
Escatron. Composed of three good Gothic canopies with tapering finials,
it has seven smaller divisions below. Damian Forment was the artist who
designed and carried out this, one of the most beautiful _retablos_ in
the country. The _reja_ which stands in front of _coro_ is superb, and
considered to be Juan Celma's masterpiece. Behind the High Altar is the
celebrated chapel of the Virgin. The figure itself is of very old
blackened wood, evidently a specimen of early Christian work. On October
12, the anniversary of her descent, thousands of pilgrims flock hither
to kiss her foot through a hole in the wall at the back of the chapel.
The city is then full of visitors and it is next to impossible to find
quarters or a room of any sort.
[Illustration: SARAGOSSA. EASTER PROCESSION]
I happened to be in Saragossa for _Semana Santa_. and watched the
processions of groups of heavy wooden figures, illustrative of our
Lord's life-history, proceed through crowded streets. My sketch shows
the last _paso_ of the Crucifixion, with a figure of the Virgin bringing
up the rear, as they passed the intensely devout throngs on Good Friday.
Masked members of different religious brother and sisterhoods, walk
along keeping the route clear. The whole procession was led by soldiery,
and "Romans," men attired in the garb of ancient Rome, while an infantry
band followed the Virgin. The _pasos_ are deposited in the Church of
Santiago built on the spot where St. James passed a night. In the belfry
of this church is an old Gothic bell of which the inhabitants are justly
proud.
San Pablo is a very interesting fabric, dating from the year 1259. The
floor of the church is a dozen steps below the street. The _retablo_ is
another fine example of Damian Forment's art. The aisles are cut off
from the nave by a flat wall with square pillars and ill-proportioned
pointed arches. The _coro_ is at the west end, from whence also issue
the notes of a very beautifully toned organ. The extraordinary octagonal
brick steeple might pass as of Russian or Tartar origin.
Of all the gateways to the city, there remains but one, the Puerta del
Carmen. It has been left as it stood after the French bombardment, and
retains many marks of shot and soft-nosed bullets. The site of the
historic Puerta del Portillo, where the Maid of Saragossa won immortal
fame, is in the square of the same name. Outside it stands the Castillo
de la Aljaferia, the Palace of the Sheikhs of Saragossa, and the
residence of the Kings of Aragon. Ferdinand gave it to the Holy Office,
and from out its portals issued many terrible orders for the suppression
of the wretched heretic. There still remains a small octagonal mosque,
and many of the rooms have their original _artesonado_ ceilings. In it
also is the "Torreta," the dungeon in _Il Trovatore_; while from the
tower can be seen the Castillo de Castlejar, mentioned in the drama by
Garcia Gaturrio, from which the libretto of the opera was taken. This
one-time fine palace is now a barrack, and I used to watch the recruits
drilling and exercising outside. When the recruiting season commences,
the numbers are drawn among those liable to serve--the lucky ones being
those who are not compelled to take any part in the military service of
their country. There exist societies in Spain to which a sum of 750
pesetas can be paid, that undertake to pay another 750 pesetas to the
State, if the payee's name is drawn for service, 1500 pesetas being the
sum which enables any one to forego his military career. If his number
is not drawn, he loses his deposit, if it is, the society pays the full
sum.
In the old days the nobles of Aragon safe-guarded their privileges by
the Fuéros de Sobrarbe, a code something like our Magna Charta, which
reduced the King's authority to almost vanishing point. Pedro IV. got
rid of the Fuéros by cutting to pieces the parchment incorporating the
union or confederacy, whose members, if the King was thought to have
exceeded his prerogative, were absolved from allegiance. They were a
hard-headed race, these Aragonese, and are still like those of the other
northern provinces, very independent and jealous of Castile's rule.
Among other things handed down from time immemorial is a national dance,
and the Jota Aragonesa, the national air, known beyond the limits of
Spain. Very few of these old airs still exist. As a fact, the old songs
of Spain and their music are better known in the Jewish colony of
Salonika than in the country of their origin. The upper classes of this
colony still speak the pure Castilian of Cervantes' time, and being the
descendants of Spanish refugees hounded out of the country by the
Inquisition, still observe the customs, songs and language of their
immigrant forefathers.
The Aragonese also have a national game, Tirando a la Barra, which
consists in passing an iron bar from one hand to the other, thereby
gaining impetus for the final swing which sends it hurtling through the
air towards a mark on the ground, like a javelin. One or two good old
houses still remain in Saragossa to testify to its former greatness,
notably that of the great Luna family. Two gigantic uncouth figures with
clubs stand on either side of the doorway which is the centre of a
simple but good façade. The cornice above is very heavy and the eaves
project far out, a feature that I noticed was very characteristic of the
old quarters of the city. It was in this house that the besieged, during
the French war, held their councils. The Casa Zaporta can boast of a
very fine staircase and beautiful _patio_ with elegant fluted columns
and reliefs and medallions breaking the spandrils. A few other good
houses still exist, but as they are in the old quarters of the city, and
as these are rapidly disappearing, I fear that Saragossa will not
contain for long anything beyond her Cathedrals that is of tangible
interest.
SANTIAGO
The evening train from Pontevedra deposited me sometime about midnight
at Cernes, the hamlet outside Santiago where the line ends. The full
moon during the latter portion of the journey had been a source of
endless delight. My face was glued to the window watching the
ever-changing hills and valleys through which the train crept, shrouded
in that mystery which obliterates detail and suggests so much in great
masses of subdued light and deep shade.
I reached the hotel, procured a room, threw open the window, and stood
on the balcony listening to the intense stillness of a wonderful night.
Suddenly a dull rumbling down some side street disturbed my reverie of
the Santiago of days gone by. The only thing to be expected at this time
of night was the station 'bus, but I heard no clattering hoofs and was
lost in surmise, when out of the dark shadow of a narrow lane into the
moonlight swung a yoke of oxen drawing a long cart with slow majestic
pace. But what a cart! a low sort of wooden box balanced between two
solid wooden wheels. The rumbling was explained. It was primitive and
the most mediæval thing I had yet seen in a country which is barely
European.
The peasant owner, a few steps in advance, never turned his head, but
guided his beasts with a long stick which he waved from side to side
over his back. There was no shout, no cry of command. The _mise en
scène_ was beautifully arranged, it was complete. There was the
background of ancient grey houses, beyond them, tapering into the starry
sky, the slender pinnacles of the great Cathedral. A row of stunted
trees occupied places down one side of the little square which filled my
stage. The subdued colour and silence of the moonlit night, and the slow
passage of the ox-cart as it passed out of sight, bettered Irving's best
effects at the Lyceum.
A clock in a neighbouring tower struck the quarters, the moment had
arrived for the anti-climax! I expected every minute to see a door open,
a light stream across the square, a cloaked figure steal furtively out,
and disappear down into the shadow of the lane. It was perfect, nothing
could have been arranged better as an introduction to Santiago de
Compostela.
[Illustration: SANTIAGO. THE CATHEDRAL]
The body of St. James landed itself at Padron on the coast not far from
Santiago, and his bones were brought to the spot where now stands the
Cathedral. In the course of time their whereabouts was forgotten and it
remained for Bishop Theodomir to rediscover the sacred spot in 829,
guided thither by a star. Hence the Campus Stellæ--or Compostela.
The shrine of the saint is still visited by innumerable pilgrims, and
perhaps more arrive in Santiago than any other city of Spain. In olden
days so great was the number that "El Camino de Santiago"--"The road to
Santiago," gave rise to the Spanish term for the "milky way." I have
watched them in the Cathedral, peasants, men and women, come from afar,
to judge by their dress. They each carried a staff decorated with tufts
of herbs and little star-shaped pieces of bread tied on with gay
ribbons. I have seen women making the round of the altars in the
different chapels with great bundles of clothes, through which were
thrust umbrellas, balanced on their heads. They never lost the poise of
their burden as they knelt and rose again. But of all the pilgrims I
saw, one who might have stepped out of Chaucer's pages carried me back
to the days of long ago. She wore a short skirt of thick brown material,
sandals protected her stockinged feet, from her girdle hung rosary,
scallop shells and a stoneware pilgrim's bottle, a hooked staff lent
support to her bent, travelled-stained figure. Her leather wallet was
stuffed with bread, and covering her short cropped hair was a grey felt
hat, mushroom shaped. A little black dog entered the Cathedral with her,
and squatted silently by his mistress's side as she knelt praying in the
dim light of a grey day. Chaucer's "Wyt of Bath" had made a pilgrimage
to "Seynt Jame," and my pilgrim with her little lame companion might
very well have been with him too.
The Cathedral, founded in 1078, was built on the site of one destroyed
by Almanzor in 997. The legend of the destruction of the first church,
which had been standing for just one hundred years, was thus--Almanzor,
after sacking Leon and Astorga, swept all the country westwards with his
Moorish hosts until he reached Santiago. So great was his fame and in
such terror was his name held that no one had the courage to face him
and fight for saint and city. Riding through its deserted streets he
came to the church, and to his surprise at last espied a solitary
Christian, a monk, praying alone at the shrine of the saint. "What dost
thou here?" inquired the haughty Moor. "I am at my prayers," curtly
answered the holy man, continuing his devotions. This reply and the
courage of the single enemy so called forth the admiration of Almanzor,
that his life was spared and an infidel guard set over the tomb.
[Illustration: SANTIAGO. SOUTH DOOR OF THE CATHEDRAL]
The west façade, a Renaissance outer covering, so to speak, of the older
façade, would not look so imposing as it does if granite had not been
used in its construction. The grey tones of the lichen-covered stone
redeem the somewhat overdone florid design, and it stands well above a
double flight of steps on the east side of the huge Plaza Mayor.
The south door, or Puerta de las Platerias, takes this name from the
silversmiths whose workshops are still under the arcades around the
Plaza on to which it opens. It is the oldest portion of the Cathedral
and dates from the foundation. The shafts contain tiers of figures in
carved niches, and the tympanum has rows of smaller ones.
The north door fronts on to the Plaza Fuente San Juan, and faces the
convent of San Martin Pinario, which was founded in 912 by Ordoño II. In
the days before this Plaza was officially given its present name, it was
known as Azabacheria, _azabache_ is jet, and it was here that vast
quantities of rosaries made of this were sold to pilgrims.
In the south-east angle of the Cathedral is the Puerta Santa, bearing
the inscription "Hace est domus Dei et porta coeli." It is only opened
in the Jubilee year and then by the archbishop himself. The entrance to
it is from the Plaza de los Literarios. It will be seen from this that
the Cathedral is practically set in four great Plazas, el Mayor, de las
Platerías, la Fuente San Juan, and de los Literarios, and for this
reason, although the roof towers high above, it is one of the few
Cathedrals the size of which can be appreciated by an exterior view.
The early Romanesque interior is superb, and not unlike our own Ely
Cathedral. The finest thing in it of archæological interest is the
"Portico de la Gloria," which Street calls "one of the greatest glories
of Christian Art." This Portico, situated at the west end of the nave,
formed at one time the façade. The idea of the whole doorway is Christ
at the Last Judgment. His figure, twice life-size, occupies the centre.
Below Him is seated St. James, while around them are angels worshipping.
Four and twenty elders are arranged in the circumference of the
archivolt; each one holds a musical instrument, most of which are shaped
like violas and guitars. A most beautifully sculptured marble column
supports this in the centre, resting on a base of devils, with the
portrait of Maestro Matio, who executed the whole from his own designs,
facing the nave. An inscription under this doorway states that the work
was finished in 1188. To the right and left are smaller arches,
portraying in well-cut granite good souls on their way to Paradise and
wicked ones in the clutches of devils on their way to Hell. Nothing can
exceed the primitive religious feeling pervading this work. Mateo must
have given his whole soul with fervour to his labours; and the almost
obliterated traces of painting and gilding enhance their result by
giving a touch of warmth to the cold colour of the stone.
West of the portico, above which are the remains of a fine wheel window,
has been built the present Renaissance façade known as El Obradorio, the
two being connected by quadripartite vaulting. The nave itself has a
walled-in triforium, but no clerestory and the vaulting of the roof is
barrel.
The saint's shrine is in the crypt beneath the Capilla Mayor. The extra
extravagant _retablo_ above the High Altar is chirrigueresque, and
hardly redeemed by the lavish employment of jasper, alabaster and silver
with which it is decorated. A jewelled figure of St. James is seated in
a niche above the mass of precious metal in which the altar is encased.
It is all very gorgeous and must impress the pious pilgrim who has
journeyed hither from afar, but I could not help wishing it were
simpler. However, the one living vital thing in Spain is her religion,
and her Church knows so well how to conduct its business that my
feelings of regret are purely æsthetic.
The _cimborio_ is a fine creation, under which swings on certain
_fiestas_ the huge silver _incensario_, a lamp wellnigh six feet high.
The two bronze pulpits are real masterpieces of cinquecento art and are
adorned by subjects from the Old Testament by Juan Bantista Celma.
In one of the side chapels, known as the Relicario, are recumbent
figures on the tombs of Don Ramon, the husband of Urraca, Berenguela
1187, Fernando II. 1226, Alfonso XII. of Leon 1268, and that faithful,
pitiable figure Juan de Castro, wife of Pedro the Cruel. Even now, after
the spoliation by Soult, who carried away ten hundredweight of precious
metal in sacred vessels, the Relicario is a perfect museum. All the
other chapels contain good tombs, especially that of Espiritu Santo in
the north transept; and among other beautiful objects with which the
Cathedral is replete are two ancient _limosneras_ or alms-boxes, two
very ancient gilt pyxes, a carved wooden cross, similar to the
much-revered cross of los Angeles at Oviedo, given by Don Alfonso and
Doña Jimena in 874.