The entrance to the south transept has been entirely rebuilt, but the original reliefs and statuary of the three doors have been preserved and re-erected. Some old Byzantine capitals may be distinguished among the Gothic work. The south-west door is relieved with a diaper of fleurs-de-lys and castles, and lions and castles. The sculpture of the tympanum is equal to that of the west front, and shows the Saviour and the Evangelists, the twelve Apostles, and the Death of the Blessed Virgin. The colossal statue on the central shaft is that of San Froilan, an early bishop of Leon. Above is a row of four windows of two lights, and an enormous rose-window.
The glory of the cathedral is its stained glass, which fills the innumerable windows. Most of this is comparatively modern, and, though good in tone, is inferior to the fifteenth-century glass still existing in the windows of the Capilla Mayor, the Capilla de Santiago, and the north transept. The three rows of windows reach high up to the vaultings of the roof, those of the chapels being of two lights, those of the clerestory of four. It is strange that with such exquisite examples of colouring before them, the restorers of the church should have had the bad taste to bedaub the arches of the aisles with ochre, and to whitewash the pillars and vaults, marking the stonework with red lines. We could well have spared, moreover, the elaborate plateresque work in the choir, which, though good in itself, is dissonant from the general character of the building; and the Churrigueresque retablo of the Capilla Mayor, representing the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin. The sanctuary and choir, which in so many churches are the most interesting feature, are of quite secondary importance at Leon. The Capilla Mayor, however, contains the remains of San Froilan in two silver reliquaries of the Renaissance style, and the relics of two other bishops (Alvitas and Pelagius) in plain marble urns. The choir stalls date from the fifteenth century, and are well carved. The best work is seen in the panels behind the stalls, the subjects being the generation of Christ, the Visitation, the Revolt of Satan, and the Descent into Hell.
But after the general ensemble and the stained glass, nothing in the cathedral merits as much attention as the tombs and monuments. Of these the noblest is the cenotaph of Ordoño II. at the rear of the High Altar, erected five centuries after his death as a tribute of gratitude by the citizens of Leon. Though in the florid Gothic style of the fifteenth century, many of the figures and inscriptions appear to have been copied from an earlier tomb. The recumbent effigy of the king is large and dignified; his face is sharp and smooth-shaven; he wears his crown and the royal robes, and carries the orb and sceptre. At his feet lies a dog, the emblem of fidelity, beneath which is an inscription in Latin setting forth his deeds and virtues, and erroneously attributing to him the erection of the present temple. The monumental arch above encloses sculpture painted in brilliant colours on a gilt ground, which appears to be of an earlier elate than the rest of the monument. The arches of the wall of the Capilla Mayor have been bricked up, and those on each side of this monument are adorned with two very ancient distemper paintings of the Ecce Homo and Entombment. They exhibit some interesting peculiarities of dress and detail, and though the central figure is badly done, the spectators are lifelike and vigorously represented.
There are many tombs in the cathedral belonging to the transitional period from Byzantine to Gothic, mostly of bishops of the thirteenth century. The best preserved is in the Capilla del Nacimiento, and enshrines the remains of Bishop Rodrigo, who died in 1232. The tympanum of the arch is occupied by a representation of the Crucifixion, below this being shown a funeral procession, with the mourners tearing their hair in a grotesque excess of grief. The benevolence of the good prelate is immortalised by a figure distributing food to the poor, the halt, and the blind. The tomb of Bishop Martin (1254-1289), in the south transept, is adorned with the favourite scene from the life of St. Martin of Tours—the division of the cloak. The monuments to the bishops Manrique de Lara, Erasmus, and Martin (second of the name) are all in much the same style, but differing stages of preservation. In the Capilla del Salvador, behind the High Altar, may be seen the graceful effigy of the Countess Sancha (eleventh century), executed in the fourteenth century by Maestre Juan Lope, as an inscription on the robe informs us. The relief on the front of the tomb, showing a youth dragged along by a fiery horse, probably refers to the punishment in this world or the next of the wicked nephew, by whom the countess was assassinated. Another tomb in the same chapel bears the figure of a venerable man with flowing beard and ample robes.
At the north-eastern shoulder of the church, between it and the tower in the city wall already mentioned, is the fine rectangular chapel of Santiago, built in the time of the Catholic sovereigns—on the site, it would seem, of a twelfth-century chapel. The pillars are borne on the shoulders of various figures, among them being Samson, the Queen of Sheba, Laocoon, and a monk with a book on which is the derisive motto legere et non intelligere. The details of the architecture are capricious and graceful. The chapel is lighted by colossal windows, filled with gorgeous stained glass—blue and gold, purple and emerald—the reflected colour producing a magical effect.
The spacious cloister, which conceals the northern façade of the cathedral, was built in the early fourteenth century, but it has been rebuilt, restored, and altered into what Street calls ‘a very poor and weak kind of Renaissance.’ The ornamentation is profuse and not in bad taste. The inner walls have not been much altered, and the pillars supporting them are sculptured in the Gothic style. The bays are painted with an extremely valuable and interesting series of frescoes, so well drawn that they were more likely the work of some fifteenth-century Italian artist than productions of native talent. The subjects are all from the history of Christ and Mary, the Crucifixion curiously enough being omitted. When Street saw these paintings forty years ago, he spoke of the colours as pure and good, but they have now been almost entirely obliterated by the damp. The cloister contains several sepulchral monuments, some mere slabs, but one—that of the Canon Juan de Grajal (1447)—elaborately and artistically sculptured. Some colossal idiot has cut off the heads of the angels shown in this fine piece of work. Near the beautiful Gothic entrance to the cloister is an image of our Lady of Regla, to which at one time the people used to proceed in procession to return thanks for the mythical victory of Clavijo, a choir of damsels representing the equally mythical tribute of one hundred virgins said to have been paid by Mauregato to the Moors.
In the archives of the cloister are preserved a fine collection of codices and documents, throwing light on the history not only of Spain but of the Catholic Church. Specially valuable is a Gothic Bible written sub umbraculo Santae Marie et Sancti Martini in monasterio vocabulo Alb ... in DCCCCLVIII. [920 A.D.], by John the Deacon, who transcribed on the intermediate pages the life of San Froilan.
We cross the spacious plaza in front of the cathedral, with its fine marble fountain, presided over by Neptune and his Tritons, and go into the town in search of ancient buildings. Of thirteenth-century architecture there are no more examples; but the southern wall was built by Alfonso XI. about 1324, to take in a quarter which had hitherto been a suburb. The old Roman wall began at the stern, square Torre de los Ponces. The gates in Alfonso’s wall have all been restored and modernised, except that of Santo Domingo, which, with its low arch and pointed vaulting, preserves the true mediæval air. The Moneda gate carries a statue of Carlos III., erected in 1759, the year of his accession. Enrique II. (Trastamara) built a palace at Leon on the model, it is said, of the Alcazar at Seville. What was left of this structure has been converted into a prison.
The Renaissance, which left everywhere in Spain so deep an impress, did not leave untouched this Gothic capital. Beside such triumphs of the Romanesque and pointed styles as San Isidoro and the pulchra Leonina rises the church of San Marcos, an interesting specimen of the newer school. Founded as a chapel of the new order of Santiago in 1170, the church witnessed the election of the first prior, and received in 1184 the ashes of the first grand master, Pedro Fernandez de Fuente Encalada. Fernando the Catholic ordered the church to be rebuilt in 1514, but the work progressed very slowly and was not actually finished till 1715. The most important part of the fabric and the plans, however, we owe to Juan de Badajoz, who was working here about 1550. With the adjoining convent, first a hospice for pilgrims to Compostela, now the Provincial Museum, the building presents a very imposing appearance. The church occupies the eastern side of the block, the portal being contained within a very deep and lofty semicircular arch. On either side, in deep plateresque niches, are fine but damaged reliefs by Crozec. The ‘acroterium’ (to employ an expression used by Spanish writers), surmounting the arch, appears to be unfinished, as also are the towers or large buttresses flanking the portal.
The church is large and cruciform, with some good glass, windows with plateresque traceries, and fine arabesques. The most notable accessories are the choir stalls, the upper row exhibiting admirably carved busts of New Testament worthies; the lower row, of the saints of the Old Dispensation. Grotesque and capricious masks, centaurs, griffins, and so forth, are introduced in great profusion into the decoration; they were the work, for the most part, of one Doncel in 1542, and were mutilated by a pupil of Churriguera in the early part of the eighteenth century.