Glories of Spain

by Charles W. Wood

We were standing in the cloister garden, where orange trees and graceful shrubs grew in wild profusion and exquisite contrast. In the centre of the garden a fountain threw up its spray and plashed with cool musical sound. Surrounding us were the wonderful cloister bays with their round arches resting on the white marble columns, all enclosed in an outer pointed arch. Above them rose the cathedral against the deep blue sky. Outline above outline; Romanesque and Gothic; the lantern crowning the whole. The shadows of the marble columns upon the ancient cloister pavement were sharply defined.

"No wonder you love it," we said to the sacristan. "Rather we wonder you do not apply for permission to live in the chapter-house, and take up your abode here altogether."

"Ah, señor, like Ancora, I also have my domestic ties: a wife and children to think about. But, alas, my wife has no soul, and cannot even understand my love for the cathedral. That indeed ought to have been my wife, and I should never have married commonplace flesh and blood. Here I have been day after day for thirty years, in constant attendance, and I grow to love it more and more, and daily discover fresh beauties. There are no cloisters in the world like these. There is no vision on earth to be compared with this, as we stand here and look upwards and around. None."

As we stood listening to the sacristan's enthusiasm, a pale, refined, grave-looking ecclesiastic passed out of the beautiful doorway leading from the church, and with silent footstep walked through the cloister to the chapter-house. He was dressed in a violet silk robe or cassock, over which was a white lace alb. As he went by he bowed to us with great gravity, but said not a word. There was a sorrowful, subdued look upon the clear-cut features, the large grey eyes.

"That is one of our canons," said the sacristan, after he had disappeared into the chapter-house; "the one I like best. He too loves this wonderful building."

"He is sad-looking. One could almost imagine he had mistaken his vocation, or gone through some great sorrow in life."

"You are right, señor: right in both instances. He was a man of noble family, never intended for the church. Engaged to a lovely lady to whom he was devoted, she died the very day before they were to have been married. He remained inconsolable, and at last took orders. At one time he had an idea of becoming a monk; but he is very clever, and was persuaded to take up a more active life in the church. As you saw him now, so he always is; grave, subdued, gentle and kindly. No one goes to him for help in vain. Here he is venerated."

We felt drawn towards this refined ecclesiastic and wished to know him, but no opportunity presented itself. The cloisters seemed to gain an added charm by his presence. His dress and appearance exactly suited them, giving them an additional touch of picturesque romance and human interest. The whole scene inspired us with a strange affection for Tarragona, and there are few places in Spain we would sooner revisit.

A little later, when we were going round the precincts, they seemed suddenly to swarm with a small army of boys. These were turning out of the new seminary, a mongrel building designed on old lines, therefore neither one thing nor the other. We entered, and turning to the left, found ourselves in modern cloisters echoing with the shouts of boys at play: cloisters attractive only from the fact that they enclosed a small, very ancient church—the church of San Pablo—a rare gem in its way; with a square-headed doorway and Romanesque capitals, and a small turret holding the bell, above which was a thin iron cross. It was a lovely building, and lost in admiration we stood gazing. The boys who came round us without the least shyness could not understand it.

"What do you see in it?" asked one of them. "We should like to knock the old barrack down. It takes up our play-room. A wretched old building, neither use nor ornament. But we can't get rid of it. It won't burn; it is so solid that we can't demolish it; and we daren't use dynamite. We have to put up with it."