gorgeously commemorated in stone above. Descending to a narrow vault
beneath the cenotaphs, we find five rude coffins, with iron bands.
Herein repose the remains of Ferdinand and Isabella, of Juana and
Philip, and of their son, Prince Juan. Ferdinand’s coffin may be
identified by the letter F. “Here,” writes Pi Margall, “lie together in
the dim light fathers and sons, monarchs of three dynasties united in
less than a century for the greater glory of the fatherland; here lie
the last princes of the Mediæval Age, and those who at its close
inaugurated the Modern Era. Here they lie--heroes and fathers of
heroes--kings who never retreated before the face of danger, and queens
whose lives were consumed in the fire of profound love; fortunate ones
who, returning from the battle, found rest and refreshment in the arms
of their beloved; and unhappy souls who drained the cup of suffering,
without finding in the dregs even that lethargy which the excess of
grief procures for some. Who can enter this murky precinct without
feeling his heart swayed by contrary emotions--without inclining with
reverence before the lead which covers the men who rescued the nations
from the anarchy of feudalism? While a tear may drop on the bier of that
great princess [Isabella], who can restrain his pity for that unhappy
queen [Juana] who, intoxicated with love, passed the night waiting for
the dawn to break that she might go forth, alone, to the ends of the
world, in search of her adored husband, and would not leave his coffin
till the tomb had closed upon it?”
We leave these great and unhappy ones of a bygone age, passing away to
nothingness in their last dark palace, and ascend to the chapel. There
is not much more to see. In the sacristy are preserved the crown and
sceptre of the Catholic queen, the sword of Ferdinand, and some rich
Gothic vestments. Over an altar on the south side is a _Descent from the
Cross_, of which Ford speaks highly. The Chapel Royal communicates with
the cathedral by a noble portal in the Late Gothic style. The pillars on
each side are adorned by the statues of kings-at-arms. Above the
entrance an eagle upholds the Arms of Spain. Heraldic devices, religious
emblems, and reliefs of saints and cherubim are mingled in the
decoration, which is beautiful and not over-elaborate.
The Chapel Royal, though architecturally forming part of the cathedral
building, has an entirely independent ecclesiastical organisation of its
own, with its own chapter and clergy. Amusing instances are recorded of
the bad blood existing between the cathedral canons and the royal
chaplains. This enmity (says Valladar) was carried so far that once,
when the Archbishop Carrillo de Alderete wished to visit the chapel,
attended by his canons, the chaplains refused to admit them. The
archbishop accordingly caused the disobliging priests to be arrested,
whereupon a long lawsuit ensued. The chaplains had the right of passage
across the cathedral transept to the Puerta del Perdon, which is the
official or state entrance to the royal mausoleum--a privilege which
seems to have galled the canons to the quick. Strange that such
ludicrous bickerings should have arisen out of a foundation which
commemorates the grandest and most epoch-making events in the national
history. Truly from the sublime to the ridiculous there is but one step.
THE CATHEDRAL
The Cathedral of Granada was built adjoining and connecting with the
Chapel Royal and sacristy or old mosque, between the years 1523 and
1561. Charles V. preferred the Gothic style, but at last consented to
the adoption of the designs of Diego de Siloe. The church is described
by Ford as one of the finest examples of the Græco-Roman style, but the
plan is distinctly Gothic, nor can the edifice be said to deserve the
description, “the most magnificent temple in Europe after the Vatican.”
It is impressive in its severity and vastness, and may be described as
dignified rather than beautiful.
The façade, said to have been designed by Alonso Cano, is flanked by
towers (one unfinished) and divided by four huge stone columns which
support a cornice. On this rest four pillars, sustaining three deep,
gloomy vaultings. At the foot of these pillars, on the cornice, are
statues of the Apostles. The principal door is adorned with a high
relief of the Incarnation by Risueño, the side-doors with reliefs of the
Annunciation and Assumption. The tower on the left rises seventy-five
metres above the level of the present floor; its three stages are in the
three styles of Grecian architecture respectively.
The walls of the Cathedral are, to a great extent, hidden, as is so
often the case on the Continent, by adjoining buildings. The Puerta del
Perdon, which, as we have said, officially belongs to the Chapel Royal,
is Diego de Siloe’s masterpiece, and is elaborately sculptured. Over the
arch two allegorical figures uphold a tablet on which is inscribed a
dedication to the Catholic monarchs. The great flanking columns of the
portal are decorated with huge escutcheons. The introduction of heraldic
symbols into religious architecture is nowhere more conspicuous than at
Granada.
The interior of the church, which is paved with black and white marble,
is composed of five naves with a cross-vaulting in the Gothic style,
supported by five piers, each of which is composed of four Corinthian
pillars. Above the high altar at the east end of the structure rises a
noble dome, 220 ft. high, resting on eight pillars, and opening with a
bold main arch, 190 ft. high. The expansion of the Capilla Mayor
(principal chapel) at this point into the segment of a circle is a
clever feat of architecture. Lafuente says, “The daring of the main arch
is admirable, the way it is contrived creating a wonderful effect:
looking at it from the elliptical arches it appears to be extended and
on the point of falling away through having sunk below its level.”
The Capilla Mayor is a handsome, profusely ornamented fabric, supported
on twenty-two Corinthian columns in two courses. Between the lower
columns are the elliptical arches referred to, and on the upper course
are the seven beautiful paintings of scenes from the Blessed Virgin’s
life, by Alonso Cano. Between the courses are interesting paintings by
Juan de Sevilla and Bocanegra. Much of the statuary is good, and the
Flemish stained glass in the fourteen windows is beautifully rich in
colour and well executed. The high altar itself, the work of José de
Bada, is in a depraved style; but its badness is redeemed by the two
kneeling statues of Ferdinand and Isabella on either side by Mena and
Madrano, and by the bold, great heads of Adam and Eve, above the
pulpits, carved and painted by Alonso Cano.
In the centre of the middle nave, separated from the Capilla Mayor by
the transept, is the choir, in that debased Churrigueresque style of
which every one speaks ill. The only things notable within it are the
fine organs, and the crucifix by Pablo de Rojas. Beneath the choir is
entombed Alonso Cano (died 1667), one of the greatest of Andalusian
painters, and a minor canon of the Cathedral.
One of his most characteristic pictures--the _Virgén de la Soledad_--is
to be seen over the altar of the Capilla de San Miguel (the first chapel
on the right on entering the church). It was stolen in 1873, and
recovered in the city shortly after. The chapel is beautifully adorned
with red marbles and serpentine. It was built by that high-minded,
beneficent prelate, Archbishop Moscoso, in 1804. His tomb is by the
sculptor Folch. In the chapel are placed--we do not know why--two
elegant Chinese vases.
Between this and the next chapel is the entrance to the sacristy or old
mosque, and to the left of it a small picture, before which that really
saintly saint, St. John of God, was accustomed to pray. The Capilla de
la Trinidad has some good paintings, among them a _Trinity_ by Cano, two
miniatures on copper by the same artist, a _Death of St. Joseph_ by
Maratta, and copies of works by Raphael and Ribera. There are genuine
Riberas (_The Child Jesus_, _St. Laurence_, and _St. Mary Magdalene_)
and more works by Cano in the extravagant eighteenth-century chapel of
Jesus Nazareno. After this comes the handsome Gothic door of the Chapel
Royal, by Enrique Egas; and beyond that the Chapel of Santiago, with a
fine equestrian statue of the Patron Saint of Spain, presented to the
Cathedral by the City in 1640. The old painting of the Virgen del Perdon
was given to Isabella the Catholic by Innocent VIII., and used to be
carried about by the queen. It is publicly venerated (not worshipped or
adored, please note) on the anniversary of the Reconquest, January 2.
Passing the Cathedral sacristy with its handsome door by Siloe, we pause
before the Puerta del Colegio. Behind the sculptured Ecce Homo, it is
said Maeda carved a Lucifer of extraordinary beauty. He applied to Siloe
for permission to give a proof of his skill, and was told by the testy
architect to sculpture the Devil himself if he wanted to. Maeda was wag
enough to take him at his word.
The chapel of Santa Ana covers the vault intended for the archbishops,
and contains a good sixteenth-century altar-piece, and a St. Jean de
Matha (a Frenchman, not a Spaniard) by Bocanegra. The six chapels that
follow present no features of interest. The fourth chapel on the left
side of the Cathedral is named La Virgen de la Antigua, after a Gothic
image greatly venerated by Ferdinand the Catholic, and regarded with
great reverence by the devout of Granada. Here are two portraits by Juan
de Sevilla of Ferdinand and Isabella at prayer; the king is clad in
armour. The paintings are in the Venetian style. Of the retablo by
Cornejo, the less said the better. Cano’s realistic heads of Saints John
and Paul reflect the fondness of the pietists of his day for the
morbid--they are in the Chapel of the Virgen del Carmen. The first
chapel, or baptistry, was erected by Adam and Aguado, at the expense of
Archbishop Galvan, who is buried here near another occupant of the
episcopal throne, Don Bienvenido Monzón. The fine reliefs of Saints
Jerome and Isidore are by Mora. We have now reached the entrance doors,
on each side of which hangs a good painting. The three pictures over the
doors represent mystic allegories.
The most interesting feature of the chapter room, or Sala Capitular, is
the noble porch, with its figures of Justice and Prudence, which, with
the group of the Trinity, may be safely attributed to Maeda.
Before leaving the Cathedral, the sacristy should be visited. It
contains Cano’s _Assumption_ and two small statues by him; a _Crucifix_
by Montañez; a _Holy Family_, by Juan de Sevilla; and a _Mary
Immaculate_ by Bocanegra. The treasury contains some wonderfully
embroidered vestments, and good, but not extraordinary, examples of the
silversmith’s craft. The signet ring of Sixtus III., and the monstrance
presented by Isabella, have of course, an historical interest.
A casket is also shown to visitors, who are assured it is that in which
were placed the jewels pawned by Isabella to provide funds for
Columbus’s first voyage. If this is true, Pandora’s box was as nothing
compared to this one! The Queen’s Missal, the work of Francisco Flores,
is beautifully illuminated. It is placed on the high altar on the
anniversary of the Reconquest. Those interested in arms will handle with
curiosity the sword of Ferdinand the Catholic; the hilt has a spherical
pommel and drooping quillons with branches towards the blade, which is
grooved for about two-thirds of its length. Other relics of the Catholic
sovereigns are their sceptre, Isabella’s crown, the royal standards used
at the Reconquest, and a chasuble said to have been embroidered by the
Queen.
By the door next to the Capilla de San Miguel we pass into the Sagrario
(sacristy) occupying the site of the old mosque, which it replaced in
1705. It was designed by Don Francisco Hurtado and Jose de Bada, and it
is well that the responsibility for so meretricious a piece of
architecture should be divided. It may be dismissed as Churrigueresque.
It is not, fortunately, devoid of interest. In one of the chapels is
buried “the magnificent cavalier, Fernando del Pulgar, Lord of El
Salar,” as the inscription records. This valiant knight and true, during
the last campaign against Granada, rode into the city with fifteen
horsemen, and set a lighted taper on the floor of the mosque, and, as
others say, nailed a paper bearing the Ave Maria on the door. This
exploit earned for him and his descendants the extremely valuable
privilege of wearing their hats in the Cathedral. De Pulgar’s bones have
fared better than those of the good Archbishop de Talavera, which were
scattered when the old mosque was demolished. The Sagrario possesses
several good paintings, including a San José by Cano, of whose works the
Cathedral buildings, as may have been noticed, contain a fine selection.
By the door next to the Capilla de Pulgar, and a darkish passage, the
Chapel Royal may be entered.
The oldest purely Christian building in Granada is the convent and
chapel of San Jeronimo, a foundation transferred here from Santa Fé
immediately after the Reconquest. The convent is now a cavalry barracks,
and is not to be inspected by the curious. The church, built by Diego de
Siloe, is in the form of a Latin cross--stern, plain, dignified. The
walls are adorned with frescoes representing scenes from the Passion,
portraits of the Fathers of the Church, and angels playing on the harp
and singing. They were executed in 1723 by an obscure painter called
Juan de Medina. Eight chapels open on the aisles and nave, one
containing a fine retablo, with the Entombment as subject. The principal
chapel exhibits Siloe’s skill at its best. He is said to have realised
in its construction “his lofty ideal of effecting a truly Spanish
Renaissance; an ideal which bore little fruit, since some of his
followers confined themselves to the strictest classicism, others to the
development of the plateresque.” Very much in the spirit of the
Renaissance is the decoration of the chapel with the statues of the
worthies of the classic world, Cæsar, Pompey, Hannibal, Homer, and
others, side by side with Old Testament characters. Strange, this
admiration for a pagan civilisation co-existent with violent religious
fanaticism against all contemporary non-Catholics!
The whole church was practically dedicated to the memory of Spain’s
greatest soldier, the Great Captain, Gonzalo de Cordova, who was buried
here, but whose ashes have been transferred to Madrid. The hero and his
duchess are shown, sculptured, kneeling in prayer on either side of the
high altar, over which rises a magnificent retablo, divided into several
compartments filled with reliefs and statues. The horizontal sections
are in the Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, and composite Orders respectively.
The lowest central compartment is occupied by the Tabernacle, the
subjects of the three compartments immediately above being the
Immaculate Conception, St. Jerome, and the Crucifixion. Over all is
shown the figure of the Eternal Father. This splendid work, the best of
its kind in Spain, seems to have been executed by a variety of artists,
among them Juan de Aragon, Pedro de Orea, and Pedro de Raxis. The
beautiful shell-like vaulting above is adorned with figures of the
Apostles, of Saints Barbara, Katharine, Magdalen, and Lucy, and the
warrior-saints, George, Eustace, Martin, Sebastian, and Francis. The
sword given by the Pope to the Great Captain, formerly one of the
treasures of the chapel, was carried off by Sebastiani during the
Peninsular War.
There are a great many beautiful things in this old church which seem to
escape the ordinary traveller’s notice. The seats in the choir were
designed by Siloe. The frescoes, representing the Triumph of the
Church, of the Virgin, and of the Eucharist, the Assumption, &c., are
very well done. The restoration of the fabric has often been denounced,
but it is difficult to see how it could have been better carried out.
In the neighbourhood of the Great Captain’s chapel is a monument to a
hero and a great Spaniard of a very different type. Juan de Robles
devoted himself to the sick and the suffering with a zeal which earned
for him confinement in a madman’s cage. His virtues were recognised
after his death, and procured him canonisation as St. John of God in
1669. A tribute to his memory which he would have no doubt appreciated
better is the large hospital founded two years after his death, that is,
in 1552. The saint’s ashes, in a silver coffin, repose in the hospital
chapel, a gorgeous structure, characterised by costliness and bad taste.
The trail of the serpent of Spanish architecture--Churriguera--is over
all. All that is interesting in it is the portrait of the saint, a copy
of one in Madrid.
The name of the Great Captain is associated with the Cartuja, or
suppressed Carthusian monastery, the site of which was his gift. The
monastery, begun in 1516, was pulled down in 1842. A small portion of
the buildings, however, remains, together with the church. The single
nave is disfigured by over-elaborate ornamentation in the plateresque
style. The doors of the choir are richly and tastefully inlaid with
ebony and mother of pearl, cedar and tortoise-shell, and were the work
of a friar, Manuel Vazquez, who died in 1765. The sanctuary, in the
baroque style, is enriched with precious marbles, some richly veined
with agates. On some of the slabs the hand of Nature has traced the
semblances of human and animal forms. In the adjoining sacristy, various
marbles have been combined so as to produce an effect dazzling and
gorgeous in the extreme. The hall is certainly one of the most
remarkable in Spain. Scarcely less marvellous are the exquisitely inlaid
doors and presses. The generally bad style of the church is also
redeemed by a statue of St. Bruno, the founder of the Carthusian Order,
ascribed to Alonso Cano, and some pictures by Bocanegra, Giaquinto, and
Cotán. The last named, a friar, was responsible for the pictures in the
cloister, representing the martyrdom of Carthusian monks in London by
the tyrant Henry VIII. and the brigands who acted as his officers.
The Cartuja was formerly much richer in works of art, but, like San
Jeronimo, it was ransacked by the French under Sebastiani, who
exhibited, as on all occasions, the discrimination of a dilettante
coupled with the rapacity of a bandit.
In front of the church of Santos Pedro y Pablo is a very handsome
mansion built in 1539 for Hernando de Zafra, secretary of the Catholic
sovereigns. The portal is in three stages: the first contains the
entrance, a square doorway, between Doric columns; the second bears the
escutcheons of the family, above them being sculptured griffins and
lions; the third, a balcony between pilasters, carved in delicate
relief. In a line with this is another balcony, bearing the curious
inscription, _Esperandola del Cielo_--“Looking for it from Heaven.”
These words are explained by a tragic legend. De Zafra is said to have
suspected his daughter of a clandestine attachment. To satisfy his
doubts, he burst into her room one day, and found her page assisting the
lover to escape by the window. Baulked of his prey, the father turned,
with death in his face, upon the boy. “Mercy!” shrieked the page. “Look
for it in Heaven!” answered the Don, as he hurled his daughter’s
accomplice from the balcony into the street below. So runs the legend.
De Zafra does not appear, according to the records, to have left any
children; but his daughter may not have survived the terrible
consequences of her amour. “After all,” remarks Valladar, “nothing was
easier in the sixteenth century than to throw a page out of the window
without attracting the attention of the police or magistrates.”
Granada is by no means as rich in ancient churches and houses as
Seville. The house of the Great Captain now forms part of the convent of
Carmelite nuns. On the façade a tablet sets forth that “In this house
lived, and on December 2, 1515, died, the Great Captain Don Gonzalo
Fernandez de Aguilar y de Cordoba, Duke of Sessa, Terranova, and
Santangelo, the Christian hero, and conqueror of the Moors, French, and
Turks.”
The early sixteenth-century Casa de los Tiros--the property, like the
Generalife, of the Marques de Campotejar--seems to occupy the site, if
it did not actually form part, of a Moorish fortified dwelling. Some
think it was an advanced work of the fortifications known as the Torres
Bermejas. The interior certainly shows Arabic influence. The staircase
was probably built by Moors, and there are rich azulejos and a splendid
_artesanado_ hall. This is adorned with busts of various Spanish
celebrities, with the graven heads of Moors and Christians, and with
reliefs of Lucretia, Judith, Semiramis, and Penthesilea.
In this house is preserved an Arabic sword with a magnificent hilt and
scabbard, said to have belonged to Boabdil. The scabbard, at all events,
is unquestionably of workmanship posterior to the Reconquest; and it is
well to be a little on one’s guard in the matter of the numerous relics
ascribed to the last Moorish king.
Of old Granada, in truth, not much more remains than the buildings we
have already named. We may glance at the tower of San Juan de los Reyes,
so badly restored that its peculiar Moorish architecture, more markedly
Eastern than that of any other Grenadine monument, has been almost
entirely effaced. And in the old Casa de Ayuntamiento there are some
historical curiosities, notably the original draft of the charter
granted to Granada by the Catholic sovereigns, and the handsome official
shield of the city. Many sites, such as the Plaza de Bibarrambla,
commemorated in the songs and stories of old Spain, have been completely
modernised. But there is a monument--a simple column surmounted by an
iron cross--more deeply interesting than any reared by the Moors. The
inscription on the pedestal records that on this spot, on May 26, 1831,
Doña Mariana Pineda was publicly garroted at the age of thirty-two
years. She died a martyr for liberty and a victim of the strange
absolutist frenzy which did much to ruin Spain in Ferdinand VII.’s
reign. Doña Mariana’s house had been a centre for liberal gatherings,
and when raided by the police was found to contain a tricolour flag.
She met her death with a courage worthy of her cause. Five years later,
when the nation had recovered its sanity, her ashes were carried in
state to the Ayuntamiento. The magistrate who had condemned her was in
his turn executed. On the same site many Spanish patriots were shot by
the French--their labour and their lives being given to replace
Ferdinand VII. on the throne. The square, formerly called the Campillo,
is now named after Mariana Pineda. You may see there her statue in
marble, sculptured by Marna and Morales.
The hill called the Sacro Monte is a curious memorial of human
credulity. In 1594 one Francisco Hernandez reported to the Archbishop
Don Pedro Vaca de Castro that he had discovered the relics of several
local martyrs in the caves here. A church of no architectural merit was
raised on the spot, and became a place of pilgrimage--the evidence that
the martyrs referred to had ever existed being meanwhile wanting. Within
the church are preserved some leaden books, inscribed in Arabic
characters, and supposed to contain the acts, of the saints. These works
were the subject of a furious controversy in the seventeenth century.
The caves are interesting on account of their natural peculiarities, and
were quite probably catacombs used by the early Christians of
Illiberis. Some rocks may be noticed, in parts worn away by the repeated
kisses of devotees. There is a superstition that the person who kisses
the stone the first time will marry within the year, and that a second
kiss will ensure to those already married an early dissolution of the
conjugal tie.
On the opposite side of the city, also in the outskirts, is a little
Mohammedan oratory, now disfigured and restored beyond recognition. It
is called the Ermita de San Sebastian, and was the place where Boabdil
gave up the keys of Granada to Ferdinand and Isabel.