Some Account of Gothic Architecture in Spain

by George Edmund Street

The tympanum of this central door has a central seated figure of our Lord, holding up His open hands. Around Him are the four Evangelists, three of them with their emblematic beasts standing up on their hind legs, with their paws in the Evangelists’ laps. Beyond them are angels holding the various instruments of the passion, and above these angels a multitude of small figures worshipping—the hundred and forty-four thousand, many of them naked, i.e. free from sin. The archivolt is perhaps the most striking feature in the whole work, having sitting figures of the four-and-twenty elders arranged around its circumference, in a manner at once quite original and singularly effective. The skill and fancy shown in the treatment of this crowd of figures is beyond praise, and there is a certain degree of barbaric splendour about the profuse richness of the work which is wonderfully attractive. Traces everywhere remain of the old delicate colouring with which the sculpture was covered, and this just suffices to give a beautiful tone to the whole work.

The side jambs have standing figures on a level with that of St. James. On the north jamb are Jeremiah, Daniel, Isaiah, and Moses, and on the opposite side St. Paul, and, I suppose, other New Testament saints, though I could not tell which. The side doorways, though there is no sculpture in their tympana, have figures corresponding with the others in their jambs. Under the groining against the north wall is an angel blowing a trumpet, and there are other angels against the springing of the groining ribs holding children in their hands.

The whole scheme is, in fact, a Last Judgment, treated in a very unconventional manner; the point which most invites hostile criticism being the kind of equality which the sculptor has given to the figures of our Lord and St. James, both being seated, and both in the central position; and though the figure of the apostle is below that of his Lord, it is still the more conspicuous of the two.

The design of the interior of the west end is peculiar. The doorway occupies the same space in height as the nave arches; above it the triforium is carried across over the porch, opening into the nave with two divisions of the same arcade as in the side galleries. Above this is a large circular window, with sixteen small cusps and a small pierced quatrefoil on either side. These openings now all communicate with the western triforium gallery; and I found it impossible to make out, to my own satisfaction, what the original scheme of the west end could have been. It does not appear clear whether there ever were any doors hung in the doorways, but I think there never were; and, perhaps, as we are told that the first church built over the body of the saint was of two stages in height, and open at the ends[164] (somewhat like the curious church still remaining at Naranco, near Oviedo), we may be safe in assuming that this western porch was in the same way open to the air. Above it the vault of the nave may have been prolonged between the towers, and under this the circular window would have been seen from the outside as it is still from the inside. Whether there was any direct access to this western porch from the ground, may admit of question; but it seems difficult to see how it would have been contrived without blocking up the chapel below the porch, which I have already described.

The only remaining work of any importance is the cloister, with its adjacent buildings,—the sacristies, chapter-room, library, &c. The present erections show no relics whatever of the work which, as we have seen, the Archbishop Diego Gelmirez undertook in the twelfth century. It is uncertain, indeed, whether his constructions were on this side of the church, for there are still remains of walls which seem to be coëval with the church round a courtyard on the north side of the nave. The cloisters now in existence are the work of Fonseca, afterwards Archbishop of Toledo, and were commenced in A.D. 1533. As might be expected by the date, there is very little Gothic character in their design; they have the common late many-ribbed Spanish groining; and if they have ever had traceries in the arches, these are now all destroyed.

The festival of St. James is celebrated with special solemnity whenever it happens to fall upon a Sunday. Then the people, I was told, ascend a staircase behind the altar, pass in front of some of his relics, and descend by another staircase[165] on the other side. The body of the saint is said to be contained in a stone tomb below the high altar, which lies north and south, with a modern sarcophagus over it, and there is a rather good old statue of him on horseback against the west wall of the south transept.

The ritual arrangements here are the same as they usually are in Spain. The Coro occupies four bays of the nave, and there is a passage railed off between the Reja of the Coro and that of the Capilla mayor, and there are not many altars now in use, but the number of clergy is very great, and the church is constantly crowded with worshippers.

On a Sunday morning during my stay the Archbishop said Mass, and there was a procession with tapers all round the church. As the slow chant rose from among the dense crowd of worshippers, and the flickering lights of the tapers struck here and there on the walls of the dark old church, one of those pictures was produced which one must, I suppose, go to Spain to see really in perfection. The number of communicants seemed to be extremely small, but the number of those at confession unusually large. The penitents have a way of kneeling with their cloaks held up over them against the confessional, so that their heads are quite concealed. Spanish women are fond of squatting on the floor, fanning themselves, before an altar; but here they often kneel, with their arms stretched out as in wild entreaty, for a long time together, and with rather striking effect. I think I am within bounds in saying that fifty or sixty priests are to be seen in this church at one time, some at the altars, some hearing confessions, and others with a large staff of singing men and boys in the choir.

I have but little more to say about Santiago. The churches seemed everywhere to be modern, and, though some of them are very large, extremely uninteresting. The streets are narrow, picturesque, and winding, but with far fewer traces of any antiquity in the houses than might have been expected. The only Gothic domestic building that I saw is the great hospital, close to the cathedral, which has four fine courts, and the principal entrance through a chapel or oratory, with an altar in it. The detail of this work is, however, extremely late and poor; it was founded in A.D. 1504 by Ferdinand and Isabella, Henrique de Egas being the architect.

The interest which, as an architect, one must feel in a building which is—as I have shown the cathedral here to be—a close copy of another church in another country, is very great. And the only regret I feel is that I am unable to give any evidence as to the nationality of the men who wrought the exquisite work in the western porch. My feeling is certainly strong that they must have been Frenchmen, and from the district of Toulouse. This I infer from the execution of their work. Moreover, I do not know where in Spain we are to find the evidence of the existence of a school in which such artists could have been trained, whilst at Toulouse no one can wander through the Museum in the desecrated convent of the Augustines without recognizing the head-quarters of a school of artists from among whom the sculptor of Santiago might well have come thoroughly educated for his great work.