The adjacent sepulchre of Ferdinand and Isabella’s daughter, the unhappy Queen Juana, and of her husband, Philip I., the Handsome, is inferior in design and execution. The heads of the recumbent figures are not faithful portraits. The reliefs represent the Nativity, the Adoration of the Magi, the Agony in the Garden, and the Entombment. In the niches are figures of the Cardinal Virtues (not conspicuous in Philip during life), and at the corners the statues of Saints Michael, George, Andrew, and John the Divine. Very beautiful are the figures of children, and much of the heraldic decoration. The whole is in the most florid style of the Renaissance, and was carved at Genoa by order of Juana’s son, Charles V.
Very different are the actual resting-places of the sovereigns so 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.