Glories of Spain

by Charles W. Wood

Barcelona Cathedral was commenced at the end of the thirteenth century, in the year 1298, and carried on through a great part of the fourteenth. It seems to have been the work of Jayme Fabre, who was summoned over from Palma de Mallorca by the King of Aragon and the reigning bishop, and designed and for many years superintended the work. To him is due the chief credit of this world's wonder, to Mallorca the honour of producing him.

Nearly the whole merit lies in the interior, and the exterior is of little value. Its poor and modern west front opens to a square, but the remainder is so surrounded by buildings and houses that it is difficult to see any part of it. The octagonal steeples are plain below the belfry; but the upper stages, pierced and beautiful, are finished off by pierced parapets. Some of the windows are richly moulded. The small flying buttresses are not effective. The east end is the best part, with its Gothic windows and fine tracery, though otherwise severely simple. Here the upper part of the buttresses have been destroyed, and the walls ending without roof or parapet give it a half-ruinous appearance.

The interior has an aisle and chapels around the apse, following the French rather than the Spanish school. The details, however, are entirely Catalonian. The arches are narrow, but extremely beautiful. The capitals of the fluted pillars are small, delicate, and refined, and the groining of the roof is carried up in exquisite lines. Beyond the main arches is a small arcaded triforium, and above this a circular window to each bay.

The dark stone is rich, solemn and magnificent in effect. Owing to the clever placing of the windows and the prevalence of stained glass, a semi-obscurity for ever reigns: not so great as that of Gerona, but so far dim and religious that only when the sun is full on the south windows can many of the details be seen.

The Coro, forming part of the plan of the building, is less aggressive than in many of the Spanish cathedrals. The stalls are of great delicacy and refinement; the Bishop's throne, which has been compared to that of Winchester, is large and magnificent, taking its proper position at the east end of the choir. The pulpit at the north corner, and the staircase leading to it, are marvels of exquisite wood-carving and rare old ironwork. The canopies are delicately wrought, and the misereres ornamented with fine foliage. Upwards, the eye is arrested by the beauty of the surrounding fluted pillars, on which rest the main arches of the nave. These cut and intersect the pointed arches of the deep galleries beyond, placed above the side chapels, of which there are an immense number. Turn which way you will, it is nothing but a long view of receding aisles, arches, and columns free or partly hidden by some lovely pillar; windows of the deepest, richest colours ever seen; mysterious recesses where daylight never penetrates; a subdued tone of infinite refinement; a solemn repose and sense of unbroken harmony.

A little to the right the eye rests on the great organ, filling up one of the deep dark galleries. Its immense swinging shutters are open, exposing silvery pipes. The organist is at his post, but only for recreation, for it is not the hour of service. Soft, sweet music breathes and vibrates through the aisles, dies away in dim recesses, floats out of existence in the high vaulting of the roof; but the sense of repose is never disturbed. Sitting in a quiet corner of the stalls, amidst all this beauty of tone and outline, one feels in Paradise.

But the charm of charms lies in the octagonal lantern at the west end, and here Barcelona stands unrivalled.

This crowning glory is of extreme richness yet delicacy of detail. Looking upwards and catching all the infinite combinations of arches and angles—the bold piers resting on square outlines—the marvellous cuttings and intersectings—the purity yet simplicity of design—the dim religious light in which all is so mysteriously veiled—the few beams of light cunningly admitted at the extreme summit—observing this, one is lost in silent wonder. It seems almost as difficult to penetrate into the beauty and mystery of this lantern as into heaven itself. And we ask ourselves again and again if the world contains a more exquisite dream-building than this.

Well do we remember the first time we saw this lantern and its imposing accompaniment.