Galicia, the Switzerland of Spain

by Annette M. B. Meakin

My lawyer guide had his study lined with guns, cartridges, and other indications of a sporting life; he informed me that there were plenty of hares, rabbits, foxes, and wild boars in the neighbouring hills; and how well he looked, and how rosy were the little village children. But no wonder, for the pure bracing air of those granite highlands was like champagne. One forgot there was such a thing as fatigue. The journey back to Cea took quite as long as the journey up, for my surefooted beast had to pick his way among the boulders even more carefully when descending that stony path, which was more like the dry bed of a waterfall or a mountain stream than anything else. The sun, now high in the heavens, beat down upon us with such strength that, though I carried an umbrella, I was glad to put on my coat to protect my skin from its burning rays. My two companions stopped several times to drink water from the springs, using the hollow of their hand as a cup. The people of Cea looked at us with interest as we made our way back to the little inn; they evidently thought that I had taken that arduous journey to Osera for the welfare of my soul. Cea too has her pious traditions; she is said to have her roots in Roman times, and to have been the birthplace of the two martyrs, San Faciundo and San Primitivo. Later on, the abbot of Osera held the proud title of Count of Cea, and Cea was, as it is now, the name, not only of the village, but of a district which comprises a number of other villages as well. We saw on its outskirts a fine new church in course of building.

Another excursion which we took from Orense was to the Benedictine Monastery of Celanova, which is now used as a branch of the Orense Grammar School for boys, under the guidance of monks. All its masters are monks, and it is called Colegio de P.P. Escolapios. Celanova is about twenty-nine kilometres distant from Orense; the little town clustered round the grand old monastery numbers some five thousand souls. The original monastery was founded in 937 by San Rosendo, bishop of Mondoñedo and Santiago. The present edifice dates only as far back as the sixteenth century, having been begun on 8th August 1548. Its grandeur and magnificence is due to the fact that Philip V., on deciding to retire into monastic life, chose Celanova as his residence. It was not completed till the end of the eighteenth century.[297]

The road from Orense to Celanova runs southward in the direction of Portugal, for Celanova lies only a few miles from the Portuguese boundary. It was a glorious drive along a new road, which had only been completed in 1902; it twisted and curled in such a way that we often seemed to be driving towards Orense instead of in the opposite direction. The hillsides and fields were covered with vines, mostly young shoots that had been brought from America, as more likely to withstand the mildew plague than the old kinds; these shoots were planted exactly as we plant hops in Kent, and had much the same appearance.

Farther on we noticed, a little way back from the road, a private house with cypress trees in its garden. In Galicia the cypress tree is always a sure indication either of a cemetery or of the estate of some family of aristocratic lineage, for peasants never think of planting such trees. We had come to the old Palazio de Bentrazes, the ancient family residence of the Counts of Torremuzquiez. We left the carriage to view this mansion, now abandoned to residents of a humbler class, who had made their money in South America. We saw the arms of the aristocratic family let into the stone wall, and there was, in several of the rooms, some quaint and beautiful carved household furniture. The floors were all of walnut wood, stout and strong; the chimney-pieces with their open hearths had a broad and noble look to match the thickness of the walls, some of which I found to be a yard in width, while others measured a yard and a half. In the grounds close to the mansion was a family chapel. But the most interesting thing of all was the escaño, which we found in the kitchen. It was like a long wooden pew out of some old church, placed exactly in front of the hearth, for about ten people to sit and warm their toes; behind was a flat board, which at meal time could be swung down from behind their heads and suspended in front of them, to serve as a dining-table. This canny arrangement was to obviate the necessity of going away from one’s cosy seat by the fire to eat one’s dinner in a cold part of the room. The food could be served up straight from the fire to the table by the member of the party who acted as cook, and all carrying of dishes was thus avoided. As soon as the food had been cleared from the table it could be swung back to its place, and then it would look once more like the high back of an old-fashioned pew, taking up no room and getting in nobody’s way. The escaño is a really typical invention peculiar to the north-west of Spain, where the winters are so cold and the houses more suited for keeping people cool in hot weather than for keeping them warm in cold.

Once more in our carriage, we mounted steadily till we reached Celanova, passing nothing of special interest except a little church called La Virgen del Cristal, which has a wonderfully minute crucifix among its relics. Many of the girls in Orense bear the name of Cristal in honour of this church; for a local poet, born in Celanova, Manuel Curros Enriquez, has immortalised its legend in verse.[298]

Presently to our left we passed an old strong tower, square and sturdy, like some of our old English fourteenth-century erections, which keep the same dimensions from the ground to the top, and have little slits for windows.

At last our vehicle had crawled to a height where vines could no longer thrive, and where the ground sparkled with mica as though sprinkled with large diamonds. I was interested to learn, from a Spanish lady who accompanied me, that it is customary for ladies to dust their hair with this powdered mica when they are going to balls and dances. Arrived at Celanova, we lunched at its modest inn at the top of three flights of stairs, and then proceeded to the monastery, whose church façade joined to its imposing front of three storeys forms the eastern side of the town square, the Plaza de la Constitution. In the early days of the monastery there was no town at all, only two or three poor cottages; and even when more houses were built they were only allowed to have one storey, as the monks did not wish to have any buildings in their neighbourhood reaching to a greater height than the windows of their own dwelling.

The monks gave us a cordial welcome, and gladly took us to see their two magnificent cloisters, the handsomest of which bore in one of its archways the date 1582, their Sala Capitular, their spacious kitchen, the ancient refectory with a curious stone pulpit in its wall, so long unused that the door leading to it has been filled up. The upper cells of the cloisters have now been turned into large dormitories for the schoolboys. The monastic church is a magnificent edifice, large enough for a cathedral, with a handsome cupola. This is indeed reckoned by Spanish architects to be one of the most sumptuous churches in the whole Peninsula. Its architecture is Doric, with walls, roofing, and tower of hewn stone; there are three naves and two sets of choir stalls, one above the other. All these stalls are of exquisitely carved wood. The relief on the lower stalls, which are of walnut wood, represents scenes in the lives of San Rosendo, St. Benedict, and other saints. Many of the upper ones are covered with geometrical designs and life-like scenes from church legends. On one I found a thief escaping on horseback with a bag of treasure, which he holds above his head. Another—a very curious one—represents a monkey on horseback. It was worth coming all the way from Orense to see that carving alone. I can quite believe the story that a wealthy English or American visitor once offered an immense sum for the complete set of stalls.

The chief altar has two sarcophagi,—one is said to contain the body of San Torquato and the other that of San Rosendo. Two other sarcophagi behind the chief altar contain the bodies of San Rosendo’s mother and sister, Ilduara and Adosina. Behind the altar and on both sides of it are some remarkable relief pictures in coloured marble, representing scenes in the life of Christ. The work of these pictures is very fine, and deserves special attention. The façade of the church is as fine as its interior, and, like it, is of hewn stone.

We were now shown the precious relics of San Rosendo; three well-made bone or ivory combs, all dating from the tenth century, when monks had long beards and were allowed to comb them; we were also shown three rings that were worn by San Rosendo—one a seal ring, and two ornamented with large crystals. The mitre worn by this saint was now laid before us, in a glass case which bore the date 1779. It is a very small pointed cap with two fringed sash ends to hang over the shoulders. Morales saw it towards the end of the seventeenth century, and remarked that it was so small that most likely it was the one in which the saint was buried, and that he had a larger and better one for daily wear. This writer seemed surprised that there was so little gold embroidery on the mitre. Villa-Amil has a picture of it in his Mobiliario Liturgico. The glass of its case has been broken for the last fifteen years, but the monks have not felt they could afford the expense of getting it renewed.