Majorca) is the largest and most beautiful of the islands. Towards the
north and south-west it presents an iron-bound wall of rock to the
turbulent waters of the Catalan seas; on the south the plain stretches
to the shore, and here we find the little harbour of Santa Ponza, at
which the conqueror Jaime I. disembarked his army on September 10, 1229.
Hard by is the estate of Ben Dinat, so named, it is averred, because the
conqueror expressed in those two words his satisfaction with a meal of
bread and garlic served him at this spot. It is more probable that the
name is that of some long-forgotten Moor. Then comes the little harbour
and tower of Portopi and round the next promontory the lovely bay of
Palma, with the capital of the Balearics smiling a welcome to the
stranger. The walls that once surrounded the city have been demolished:
the turrets that rise above the house-tops are those of the Cathedral
and the Exchange (Lonja). We enter the town through the Water Gate, a
building not without majesty, and crowned by a statue of the Blessed
Virgin. The streets, as in most Spanish towns, are narrow and shady,
often rewarding the curiosity of the passer-by with glimpses of
Renaissance patios, graceful balconies, and turret windows. Among the
most interesting houses of the Butifarras (big sausages), as the
nobility of the island used to be called, are the Casa de Vivot and the
palace of the Counts of Montenegro. But Palma is a living city, and side
by side with these dignified memories of the past we find handsome
modern buildings such as the Bank of Spain and the Hall of Provincial
Deputation. Nor does Palma want for wide breathing-spaces and
promenades. It has the fine Paseo del Borne and the Boulevards
constructed round the bay and on the site of the old fortifications.
Close to the landing-stage the new-comer’s attention is first attracted
by the Exchange or Lonja. Charles V. on visiting the island for the
first time hastened at once to see it, eagerly demanding if it belonged
to the Church or to the State, and was visibly relieved on hearing that
it was a civil edifice. The Lonja is a quadrangular building, surmounted
by a crenellated balustrade and flanked at each angle with an octagonal
tower of six stages, one of these rising above the balustrade. The walls
are strengthened with graceful pilasters, and pierced in their lower
story by ogival windows with good traceries. The door is square and
enclosed within an ogival arch. The interior forms a single great hall,
the roof of which is supported by only four slender fluted columns, from
which the arches spring like palm branches. This interesting building
was designed and begun by Antonio Sagrera in the year 1426. Like the
numerous other Spanish Lonjas, it has long been deserted by the
mercantile community.
The cathedral towers above the whole city and is one of the most
important churches in the kingdom. The name of the architect is unknown,
but the foundations were laid by order of Jaime the Conqueror soon after
he had annexed the island. The plan is rectangular, the walls supported
by massive flying buttresses, surmounted with pinnacles and turrets. The
south front is the finest and is pierced by the beautiful Puerta del
Mirador, in florid Gothic style, the work of Pedro Morey, who died in
1394. The west porch is an elaborate work, finished in 1601. On the
north side is the noble square bell-tower.
The interior is remarkable for the enormous span of the nave, the widest
in Spain. It rises to a height of 147 feet and is sustained by
relatively slender columns. The nave terminates in the beautiful Capilla
Real, founded in 1282, wherein is the modest tomb of the last King of
Mallorca. The wooden gallery running round the wall is strongly
suggestive of Saracenic influence. Opening into this chapel are the
Capillas de Santa Eulalia, containing a Gothic altar and the tomb of a
Bishop of Palma, and San Mateo, in which ends one of the aisles. In the
chapel of St. Jerome is the fine tomb of the Marques de la Romana, who
did such good service to Spain by bringing from Denmark the Spanish
troops in Napoleon’s service. Another notable sepulchre is that of
Bishop Gil Sancho Munoz, successor elect to Pope Benedict XIII. (1447).
The choir is in decadent Gothic style, but the carving is very good and
reveals imagination and fertility of resource on the part of the artist.
The statues of St. Bruno and St. John were brought here from the
chapter-house of Valledemosa. The old Moorish palace of Almudaina,
adjacent to the cathedral, is the residence of the Captain-General and
seat of the High Court. It is provided with a chapel built by Jaime II.
The only other church worthy of mention at Palma is that of San
Francisco de Asis, remarkably like the cathedral for the span of its
nave and for the tomb of the famous Raymond Lull, Mallorca’s most
illustrious son. This famous philosopher was born in 1235 and is said to
have been converted from evil courses in his youth by finding that his
mistress was devoured by cancer--such reasons for a change of life being
frequent in the Middle Ages. He imagined himself called upon to
overthrow the religion of Mohammed not by the old methods, but by a
“great art” of logic which he devised. Like some liberal Catholics of
later days, he held that the dogmas of his Church could and should be
demonstrated by reason, and not by mere exhortations to believe. To
combat Islam he rightly considered necessary that missionaries should
understand the language of their adversaries. His exertions induced the
Pope to found one or two chairs of Arabic and Syriac, and his
philosophy, strange to say, met with no censure from ecclesiastical
authorities. Lull was credited with immense and preternatural wisdom by
his generation, and was popularly believed to have discovered the
Philosopher’s Stone. He undertook several journeys to Northern Africa in
his zeal for souls, and on the last of these visits received such severe
injuries from a Moslem mob that he succumbed on board ship within sight
of his native isle (1315).
A picture of his funeral may be seen at the Town Hall, which is a rather
imposing Renaissance building adorned by one of those heavy projecting
eaves, carved and once painted, that one sees at Granada. Another house
that should be noticed is the Casa Bonapart, said to have been founded
by an ancestor of the Imperial family in 1411.
In the suburbs of Palma is the fine old castle of Bellver, founded by
the last King of Mallorca. It is composed of a vast keep, strengthened
by bastions and surrounded by a moat. Connected with this stronghold by
a bridge of two tiers is the massive Torre del Homenage. The castle has
received many distinguished and involuntary guests. Here was confined
Jovellanas, the able Minister of Carlos IV., and here was shot General
Lacy for conspiring against the tyrant Fernando VII. Arago the
Astronomer took refuge here, when the mob, suspecting that he was
signalling to the French when he was simply making observations, sought
his life.
Seven miles from Palma is Raxa, the seat of the Conde de Montenegro, who
has an exceedingly valuable collection of antiquities. Here may be seen
a curious chart of the world, drawn in 1439, according to the
instructions of Amerigo Vespucci. It is partly obliterated by the ink
spilt over it when it was being spread out for examination by George
Sand.
That gifted Frenchwoman slayed at the suppressed Carthusian monastery of
Valldemosa, and there she wrote the romance “Spiridion,” at which Mr.
Titmarsh poked his fun. It is a beautiful, decayed old place, once a
royal palace, and decorated with frescoes illustrating its history.
We again come to the traces of Raymond Lull at Miramar, the beautiful
seat of the Archduke Ludwig Salvator, who kindly placed a hospice at the
disposal of travellers. This was originally the college established by
the philosopher for the study of Oriental tongues. The ill-fated
Maximilian of Mexico borrowed the name of his palace near Triente from
this enchanting spot.
In addition to the capital, Mallorca contains three or four towns of
importance, such as Manacor, Alcudia, and Pollensa, but these present
few features of interest. The scenery in the vale of Soller is radiant
and smiling, the soil being of amazing fertility, such as the Barranco
and Gorch Blau, or Blue Gorge. Between Pollensa and Soller in the heart
of the hills is the sanctuary of Our Lady of Lluch, the origin of which
is accounted for by a legend similar to that of Lourdes. To accommodate
the pilgrims who flocked to the spot, a hospice was built, which in
course of time was converted into a school of religious music. Here as
at Miramar every stranger can have three days’ free lodging, including
fire, light, and the indispensable oil and olives.
On the other side of the island are the caves of Anta, rivalling those
of Han and Adelsberg. “The most fantastic part of this subterranean
region,” says Mr. Vuillier, “goes by the significant name of L’Infierno.
It is a nightmare in stone. Tongues of petrified flame seem to lick the
walls. An enormous lion squats in one corner, staring at unhewn tombs
overhung by rigid cypresses. Strange forms of antediluvian monsters lurk
half-seen in the obscurity. Many of the stalactites when rapped sharply
with a stick emit musical notes, some like the vibration of a
harp-string, others like the deep resonance of a church bell. These are
in an immense hall as vast as a cathedral nave.... In silence and
darkness, the forces of nature have for centuries been hewing and
shaping an architecture more sublime than ever was conceived in the
wildest dream of the Gothic craftsman.”
Menorca, the second largest of the islands, is bare and bleak and flat
round the coast, though at one point in the interior it rises to a
height of nearly 6000 feet. Here and there are picturesque spots,
notably the Barranco of Algendar; but speaking generally the island is
the Holland of the Mediterranean. Cleanliness, well-being, industry and
good conduct are the characteristics of the inhabitants, who live
farther outside the world of romance even than most Latin people. We
flatter ourselves of course that they learned their good qualities from
our ancestors, when they ruled the island, and certainly there are
frequent reminders of our influence to be traced in the daily life of
Menorca. “Ashes to Ashes,” though seldom heard now, was in Ford’s time
an oath or exclamation often on the lips of the natives, and children
use English words when playing marbles, a game that we taught them among
other perhaps less useful arts. We sent to the island a Governor Kasie,
who made roads and built market-halls, and did all that a worthy and
unimaginative English gentleman might feel it is his duty to do in such
a position; but the natives do not sigh once more to be under our
dominion, as they are sometimes polite enough to tell English folk they
do, and a Spanish writer actually refers to our paternal government as
the Babylonish captivity.
Puerto Mahon was founded, as we have said, by the Carthaginians, and was
appropriately enough occupied by us, the Carthaginians of later days.
Its harbour is one of the best in the Mediterranean, and is very
strongly fortified. Except for the forts, the town contains no public
monuments of interest. The streets are very clean and rather quiet, and
you remark the absence of the running water in the gutters
characteristic of so many European towns. The streets are well paved,
often with tombstones from the English cemetery; the dustman goes his
rounds as he does in London, and many of the houses have English
windows. The domestic life is held in high honour at Mahon, and the
chief occupation and delight of the women is cleaning their houses. “It
is an amusing spectacle” says M. Vuillier, “to see them armed with
brooms of dwarf palm and immense pails of lime-water, gossiping along
the walls from early morning, while they scrub and wash as if their
lives depended upon it, fastening their brooms to long poles the better
to reach the higher parts of the wall. Should a death occur in a house
the walls are not whitened for a week, a fortnight or even a month,
according to the closeness of the relationship or the degree of grief
felt for the deceased. In rare cases the walls are not touched for six
months.” The traveller comments on the absence of the tribe of unwelcome
bedfellows, so persistent in their attentions in other parts of Spain.
This does not sound very interesting. Mahon is not, however, wholly
devoid of the picturesque element. The old gate of Barbarossa is named
after that famous pirate, by whom the city was surprised and sacked in
1536, and the fortifications still bear traces of the siege of 1781.
Ciudadela, the old capital, at the opposite end of the island, is more
suggestive of old times and memories. The streets are quaint and
arcaded, and lined with fine old mansions: and there is an old palace,
and a vast dim cathedral, which no one has ever properly explored. Ten
minutes will be enough in which to exhaust the sights of Ciudadela, and
you may then go and look at the Buffador, a blow-hole like those to be
seen at Sark.
The people of Menorca have long since abandoned their native
dress--presuming that they ever had one; but M. Vuillier remarked the
continuance of the old custom, observable in other countries, of
strewing the path of a bridal party with obstacles and building a wall
before the house of the bride and bridegroom, the morning after their
marriage. We see one of the innumerable survivals here of marriage by
capture. The people are strangely fond of the practice of vaccination,
and will perform it on each other with the least possible excuse. In
blood-letting they also entertain an ineradicable belief.
Speaking of Alazor, a large village, Ford says: “It is worth the
traveller’s while to go into any of the peasants’ houses and convince
himself that in no other part of the world do the lower (_i.e._,
working) classes live in greater comfort and even luxury. A man who has
only a franc and a half a day as wages, and a little bit of garden, has
a large and commodious house, well furnished, exquisitely clean, and
always with a spare bed for the stranger. The character of the people is
in exact harmony with their surroundings. They are polite and
hospitable, crime is unknown, and their hygienic condition being so
favourable they are healthy and long-lived. If is difficult to write of
them without exaggeration and using too many terms of admiration for the
good and wholesome life they lead.”
To the economist, then, the island of Menorca must be of interest, but
it is infinitely more so to the archæologist. From end to end it is
strewn with the works of prehistoric man, whose record in stone is hard
to read. These megalithic remains present a strong resemblance to the
mirage of Sardinia and Malta, but have also local characteristics which
have puzzled and delighted the learned. M. Cartailhac has traced the
sites of many ancient villages. The most considerable may be seen at
Torre d’ea Galines, south of Alazor. There, on the summit of a slight
eminence, a vast pile of stones is all that remains of the “city” to
which the naked aborigines fled wildly the instant a sail rose above the
horizon. In the constant and arduous struggle waged by the present
inhabitants with the stones and the rock, the limits of the stronghold
have, ages ago, disappeared, and if it had an outer wall it can no
longer be traced. The dwellings were grouped together so closely that no
streets can be distinguished. No chariot or beast of burden could have
been known to the citizens. They communicated with each other by
corridors leading from cabin to cabin. Here and there the doorways
remain intact and uphold a heavy lintel of stone.
In each of these villages is to be found a single huge monument,
composed of two blocks of stone, arranged =T=-shape. It is surrounded by a
semicircular wall of unhewn stones, which probably once rose higher and
higher and supported a roof of flat stones. These monuments are termed
altars by the people of Menorca, and such they may, in fact, have been,
but nothing definite can be said on this point.
Equally uncertain are the nature and purpose of the monuments called
talayots, a word allied to the Arabic term for watch-tower. These are
structures of uncemented blocks of stone in the form of a tower,
slightly conical or cylindrical, sometimes square at the base. None of
them is wholly intact. Whether the summit was a dome or a platform we
have no means of knowing. “I observed, however, at Torranba de Salort,”
says M. Cartailhac, “a detail which throws some light on this point. The
tower is among the highest at the summit and at two steps from the
centre lies a great stone more than a metre in diameter, in the shape of
a thick mushroom, almost circular, flat on one side and with a
protuberance on the other. It is possible that this block once crowned
the culminating-point of the edifice.”
Among the largest talayots are those of Torre Ilafuda. They measure
sixteen metres across the base and fourteen at the summit. The stones
are laid horizontally and are carefully adjusted. The walls are three or
four metres thick, and skilfully constructed. The interior usually forms
a single chamber, and where this was large the roof was supported by a
column formed of huge blocks of stone. The wall itself is often threaded
by a passage to the roof or upper chamber, so narrow that it could only
have been ascended by crawling. The entrance to the talayot is through
a square opening large enough to permit a short man to walk through
upright. All sorts of theories and guesses have been made as to what
these towers originally were. Near every =T=-shaped altar one or two are
to be found; there was always one at least on every town site. Perhaps,
suggests our authority, they existed before all the other structures and
were used as centres by a later population. Though they are often placed
on eminences, it has been established that they were not fortresses; it
can be proved more or less satisfactorily that they were not
dwelling-places, storehouses, or tombs.
The boat-shaped piles, called navetas or naves, on the other hand had
clearly a sepulchral character. The front or prow is slightly concave.
The entrance measures about half a metre across and three-quarters of a
metre in height, the edges are grooved as though to admit some sort of
door. Inside, the passage widens and conducts you to a second opening as
narrow as the first, through which you penetrate into the mortuary
chamber itself. Filled now with rubbish, filth and carrion, these are
the tombs of the fathers of the Mediterranean races, whose bones are
brought to light each time the Menorcan ploughs his stubborn soil.
Stones must always have been a plague to the people of the island, and
this, besides accounting for their selection of the sling as their
peculiar weapon, may partially explain, as Ford reasonably remarks, the
abundance of these monuments. “The erection of a large tumulus was not a
piece of barbaric extravagance. It provided an unperishable monument for
the person it was intended to honour (?) and it got rid of an immense
mass of loose stone which greatly impeded agriculture.”
“One fact,” adds this lively writer, “is very curious. The Menorcans,
even now, are in the habit of constructing just such tumuli as the
talayots for the use of their cattle, though of smaller stones. In the
distance they present an appearance not at all unlike the older
structures.”
* * * * *
Ibiza, the third largest island of the group, is one of those spots
which can afford no sort of justification for its existence. It is a
mere backwater, a stagnant pool of humanity, interesting, though, as a
place buried beneath prejudices and customs hundreds of years old. How
should they be blown away in so out-of-the-way an island? The town
stands on a fine harbour and reminds one rather of Guernsey. The
collegiate church, formerly a cathedral, was founded by the Archbishop
of Tarragona, in the thirteenth century, at the time the island was
granted to him by Jaime the Conqueror. It is uninteresting, except for
the view from the belfry. Better worth a visit is the fortified church
of San Antonio at the other end of the island, wherein the people took
refuge at the approach of the Corsairs. It is flanked with two massive
towers and the apse has a parapet pierced with embrasures for guns. The
walls are nearly eight feet thick, and the doorway is protected by a
machicolation.
There is little else to be seen at Ibiza during the short time the
traveller will be disposed to stay there, but M. Vuillier, who lingered
there longer than he had intended, is able to tell us much that is
interesting about the people and their customs. The islanders are a
savage primitive stock. The recognised form of salutation between man
and maid is for the former to hurry after the latter and without any
warning discharge his gun into the ground at her feet. After spending
the evening at her house, he fires at the ceiling, so that it should be
easy to tell at a glance on going into a house for the first time if the
daughters have been much sought after. The men do not confine their
shooting to this sort of practice, however; duels, assassinations, and
vendettas are frequent, and the feuds partake of the mysterious brutal
character of those of Kentucky and Tennessee. In such a country animals
fare badly, and one is not surprised to learn that throwing stones at a
live cock is one of the favourite pastimes. When the youths come
a-courting, each sits with the girl for a few minutes in turn and if he
overstays the allotted period is punished by the others with the knife
or pistol. Abduction is the rule rather than the exception; but for all
the anxiety shown to possess them, the women have a wretched time, being
hardly allowed to stir out of their dingy poverty-stricken cabins.
Altogether it must be as difficult to make yourself happy at Ibiza as at
any spot on or off the planet.
Of the remaining islands of the group, only one deserves mention and
that only for its sad memories. This is Cabrera. It is little better
than a bare rock, incapable of affording subsistence to more perhaps
than two or three score of men, yet here during the Peninsular War the
Spaniards were thoughtless enough to confine 5500 French soldiers, the
victims of Dupont’s surrender at Bailen. Their sufferings were more
severe than those of many a shipwrecked mariner. Each man was allowed
only 24 ounces of bread and a few beans every four days. There was but
one spring in the island and the thirst-maddened men would fight each
other desperately to get a drink from this. Murder was common, and in
one instance a man was detected in the act of preparing a meal from the
remains of a comrade. It is touching to relate that for many months the
men made a pet of a donkey they found wandering on the island, and it
was not till the boat which brought them their miserable ration was long
overdue that the poor famished wretches could find it in their hearts to
kill and eat their only four-footed companion. As time went on, the
captives made some attempt to cultivate their island, and their lot
greatly improved, as the Spaniards continued to send the same rations,
though their number was now reduced by two-fifths. Finally, in 1814, the
last survivors were taken off by a French transport. The bones of those
who died on the island were interred by the crew of a French warship and
a monument was erected over their remains.
[Illustration: PLATE 1
GENERAL VIEW OF BARCELONA]
[Illustration: PLATE 2
GENERAL VIEW OF BARCELONA]
[Illustration: PLATE 3
BARCELONA: VIEW FROM THE FUNICULAR RAILWAY STATION]
[Illustration: PLATE 4
BARCELONA: PANORAMA FROM MONJUICH]
[Illustration: PLATE 5
BARCELONA: PANORAMA FROM MONJUICH]
[Illustration: PLATE 6
BARCELONA: PANORAMA FROM MONJUICH]
[Illustration: PLATE 7
BARCELONA: THE DOCKS]
[Illustration: PLATE 8
BARCELONA: GENERAL VIEW OF THE PORT]
[Illustration: PLATE 9
BARCELONA: DETAIL OF THE PORT]
[Illustration: PLATE 10
BARCELONA: VIEW FROM MIRAMAR]
[Illustration: PLATE 11