Wanderings in Spain

by Théophile Gautier

The high altar or retablo alone might be mistaken for a church. It is an enormous collection of small columns, niches, statues, foliage, and arabesques, of which the most minute description would convey but a very faint idea. All this mass of carving and ornaments, which extends completely up to the roof, is painted and gilt in the richest imaginable manner. The tawny, warm tones of the old gilding, cause the thin streaks and patches of light, which are caught in their passage by the nervures and projections of the ornaments, to stand out with splendid brightness, producing the most admirable, picturesque, and rich effect. The paintings, with their backgrounds of gold, which adorn the panels of the altar, equal in richness of colouring the most brilliant specimens of the Venetian school. This union of colour, with the severe and almost hieratic forms of mediæval art, is met with very rarely; some of these paintings might be taken for pictures in Giorgione's best style.

The choir or silleria is placed opposite the high altar, according to the Spanish custom. It is composed of three ranks of stalls formed of wood, carved, worked, and cut in a marvellous manner, with historical, allegorical, and sacred bas-reliefs. Never was anything more pure, more perfect, or better drawn, produced by Gothic art, already approaching the style of the Renaissance. This specimen of workmanship, which frightens you by the endless variety of its details, is attributed to the patient chisels of Philippe de Bourgogne and Berruguete. The archbishop's stall, which is higher than the rest, is fashioned like a throne, and marks the centre of the choir. The whole of this prodigious piece of wood-work is crowned by brown polished jasper columns, and on the entablature are alabaster figures, also by Philippe de Bourgogne and Berruguete, but in an easier and more supple style, which produce a most admirable and elegant effect. Enormous reading-desks, sustaining gigantic missals, large spartum carpets, and two colossal organs opposite each other, one to the right and the other to the left, complete the decorations.

Behind the retablo is the chapel in which Don Alvar de Luna and his wife are buried, in two magnificent alabaster tombs, placed side by side. The walls of this chapel are emblazoned with the arms of the Constable, and with the shells of the Order of Santiago, of which he was grand-master. Not far from this, in the arch of that portion of the nave which is here termed the trascoro, there is a stone with a funereal inscription. It is in memory of a noble Toledan, whose pride was shocked at the idea of his tomb being trodden underfoot by people of no consideration and mean extraction. "I will not have a set of low-bred peasants walk over me," he exclaimed on his deathbed; and, as he left a great deal to the church, his strange whim was satisfied by his body being lodged in the masonry of the vault, where, most assuredly, no one will ever walk over it.

We will not endeavour to describe in detail the various chapels, we should fill a whole volume; we will content ourselves by mentioning the tomb of a cardinal, executed with the utmost delicacy in the Arabic style; we can compare it to nothing more appropriately than to lace-work on a grand scale. We now come at once to the Mozarabic, or Musarabic Chapel (both terms are used), which is one of the most curious in the cathedral. Before describing it, we will explain the meaning of the phrase Mozarabic Chapel.

At the time of the Moorish invasion, the Toledans were forced to surrender, after a two years' siege. They endeavoured to capitulate on the most favourable terms, and among the other conditions agreed upon, was the following: Six churches were to be reserved for the use of those Christians who might desire to live with the barbarians. These churches were those of St. Mark, Saint Luke, Saint Sebastian, Saint Torcato, Saint Eulalia, and Saint Justa. By this means the true faith was preserved in the city during the four hundred years' dominion of the Moors, and for this reason the faithful Toledans were termed Mozarabians, that is, "mixed with the Arabs." In the reign of Alonzo VI., when Toledo once more fell into the hands of the Christians, Richard, the Pope's legate, wished the Mozarabian ritual to be abandoned for the Gregorian; he was backed in this by the king and the queen Doña Constanza, who preferred the rites of Rome. All the clergy revolted, and exclaimed loudly against the change; the faithful were highly incensed, and their irritation was nearly causing an open insurrection and revolt of the people. The king, frightened by the turn that matters were taking, and fearful that the Toledans would proceed to acts of violence, tried to calm them in the best manner he could, and proposed the following singular mezzo termine, which was completely suited to the spirit of the times, and accepted with enthusiasm by both parties:—The partisans of the Gregorian and of the Mozarabic ritual were each to choose a champion, and the two were then to meet in mortal combat, in order to decide which idiom and which service was most pleasing to Heaven; and certainly, if the opinion of Heaven is to be taken, it cannot be taken more fitly than in the choice of a liturgy.

The champion of the Mozarabians was named Don Ruiz de la Matanza; a day was appointed, and the Vega chosen as the field of battle. For some time the victory was uncertain, but in the end Don Ruiz gained the advantage, and left the lists as victor, amidst the cries of joy of the Toledans, who wept with pleasure, and, throwing their hats in the air, immediately repaired to their churches, in order to render up thanks to Heaven. The king and queen were greatly annoyed at this triumph. Reflecting, somewhat late in the day, that it was an impious, daring, and cruel act to decide a question of theology by a sanguinary combat, they said that the only means of determining the matter was by a miracle, and they therefore proposed another ordeal, to which the Toledans, confident of the excellence of their ritual, consented. After a general fast, and prayers in all the churches, a copy of the Gregorian ritual, as well as one of the Mozarabian, was to be placed upon a lighted pile, and that one which remained in the fire without being burnt, was to be considered as the more acceptable to Heaven.

Everything was executed with the greatest exactitude. A pile of very dry flaming wood was heaped up on the Plaza Zocodover, which, as long as it has been a plaza, never beheld such a concourse of spectators; the two liturgies were cast into the fire, each party looking up to Heaven with arms uplifted in prayer. The Romish ritual was rejected, and its leaves all scattered about by the violence of the flames, but it came out intact, although somewhat scorched. The Toledan ritual, on the other hand, remained majestically in the midst of the flames, on the very spot on which it had been thrown, without moving, or receiving the least injury. Some few enthusiastic Mozarabians went so far as to assert that the Romish ritual was entirely consumed. The king, the queen; the legate Richard, were but slightly gratified, but they had gone too far to retract. The Mozarabic ritual was therefore preserved and followed with ardour, for a long period, by the Mozarabians, their sons, and grandsons; but at last, the meaning of the ritual was lost, and there was no one left capable of performing or understanding the service which had occasioned so much contention. Don Francisco Ximenes, archbishop of Toledo, being desirous that so memorable a custom should not be discontinued, founded a Mozarabic chapel in the cathedral, caused the ritual, which was in Gothic characters, to be printed in ordinary letters, and ordained priests whose special duty it was to celebrate the Mozarabic service.

The Mozarabic Chapel, which still exists at the present day, is ornamented with the most interesting Gothic frescoes, representing various combats between the Toledans and the Moors. They are in a perfect state of preservation, the colours being as vivid as if they had only been applied yesterday. An archæologist could not fail to gather from them a vast quantity of curious information concerning the arms, costumes, weapons, and architecture of the period; for the principal fresco represents a view of Old Toledo, and was, no doubt, very exact. In the lateral frescoes are painted, with great attention to all the details, the vessels which brought the Arabs to Spain; a seaman might glean some very useful hints from them concerning the history of mediæval naval matters, at present so obscure. The arms of Toledo—five stars sable on a field, silver—are repeated in several parts of this low-arched chapel, which is enclosed, according to the Spanish fashion, by a gate of magnificent workmanship.

The chapel of the Virgin, which is entirely covered with porphyry, jasper, and yellow breccia, most admirably polished, surpasses in richness all the splendour of the "Thousand and One Nights." There are a great many relics here; among others, a reliquary, presented by Saint Louis, and containing a piece of the true cross.

We will now wait a little to recover our breath; meanwhile, we will, if you please, take a turn in the cloisters. They surround a number of elegant and severe arcades of beautiful masses of verdure, which, thanks to the shade thrown on them by the cathedral, remain green in spite of the intense heat at this time of the year. All the cloister walls are covered with immense frescoes, in the style of Vanloo, painted by an artist named Bayeu. The composition of these paintings is easy and their colouring pleasing, but they do not agree with the style of the building, and no doubt replace older works that had suffered from the effects of age, or been considered perhaps too Gothic by the persons "of taste" at that period. Cloisters are very appropriately situated near a church; they form a happy transition from the tranquillity of the sanctuary to the turmoil of the city. You can walk about, dream and meditate, in them, without being under the necessity of joining in the prayers and ceremonies of the service: catholics enter the temple; Christians remain more frequently in the cloisters. This peculiar state of mind has been well understood by the catholic church, who is so skilful a psychologist. In religious countries, the cathedral is always the most ornamented, richest, most florid, and most profusely gilt, of all the buildings in a town. In a cathedral, the shade is coolest and the silence most profound; the music is better than it is in the theatre, and nothing can be compared to the splendour of the pageants. It is the central point, the most attractive spot, like the Opera-house in Paris. We northern catholics, with our Voltairean temples, have no idea of the luxury, elegance, and comfort of Spanish churches: they are furnished, they are animated, and have not that icy, deserted look which ours have: the faithful can live in them in sweet familiarity with Heaven.