Читать книгу The Cathedrals of Northern Spain - Charles Rudy - Страница 8

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ARCHITECTURAL ARABESQUES

Preliminaries

The different periods mentioned in the preceding chapter are characterized by a corresponding art-movement.

The germs of these movements came invariably from abroad. In Spain they lingered, were localized and grew up, a species of hybrid plants in which the foreign element was still visible, though it had undergone a series of changes, due either to the addition of other elements, to the inventive genius of the artist-architect, or else peculiar to the locality in which the building was erected.

Other conclusive remarks arrived at in the foregoing study help to explain the evolution of church architecture. Five were the conclusions: (1) The power and wealth of the Church, (2) the influence exerted by foreigners on the country's fate, (3) the individualistic spirit of the clanspeople, (4) the short duration of a Spanish nation, nipped in the bud before it could bloom, and (5) the formation of an oligarchy (caciquismo) which hindered the establishment of an educated bourgeoisie.

The first of the above conclusive observations needs no further remarks, considering that we are studying church architecture. It suffices to indicate the great number of cathedrals, churches, hermitages, monasteries, convents, cloisters, and episcopal palaces to be convinced of the Church's influence on the country and on the purses of the inhabitants.

The Spaniard, psychologically speaking, is no artist; it is doubtful if illiterate and uneducated people are, and the average inhabitant of Spain forms no exception to this rule. His artistic talents are exclusively limited to music, for which he has an excessively fine ear. But beauty in the plastic arts and architecture leave him cold and indifferent; he is influenced by mass, weight, and quantity rather than by elegance or lightness, and consequently it is the same to him whether a cathedral be Gothic or Romanesque, as long as it be dedicated to the deity of his choice.

The difference between Italian and Iberian is therefore very marked. Even the landscapes in each country prove it beyond a doubt. In Italy they are composed of soft rolling lines; the colours are varied,—green, red, and blue; the soil is damp and fruitful. In Spain, on the contrary, everything is dry, arid, and savage; blue is the sky, red the brick houses, and grayish golden the soil; the inhabitants are as savage as the country, and the proverbial "ma é piu bello" of the Italian does not bother the former in the slightest.

All of which goes to explain the Spaniard's insensibility to the plastic arts, as well as (for instance) the universal use of huge retablos or altar-pieces, in which size and bright colours are all that is required and the greater the size, the more clashing the colours, the better.

Neither is it surprising that the Spaniard created no architectural school of his own. All he possesses is borrowed from abroad. His love of Byzantine grotesqueness and of Moorish geometrical arabesques is inherited, the one from the Visigoths, and the other directly from the Moors. The remaining styles are northern and Italian, and were introduced into the country by such foreigners—monks and artists—as crowded to Spain in search of Spanish gold.

These artists (it is true that some, and perhaps the best of them, were Spaniards) did not work for the people, for there was no bourgeoisie. They worked for the wealthy prelates, for the aristocracy, and for the caciques. These latter had sumptuous chapels decorated, dedicated an altar to such and such a deity, and erected a magnificent sepulchre or series of sepulchres for themselves and their families.

This peculiar phenomenon explains the wealth of Spanish churches in lateral chapels. Not a cathedral but has about twenty of them; not a church but possesses its half a dozen. Moreover, some of the very finest examples of sepulchral art are not to be found in cathedrals, but in out-of-the-way village churches, where some cacique or other laid his bones to rest and had his effigy carved on a gorgeous marble tomb.

These chapels are built in all possible styles and in all degrees of splendour and magnificence, according to the generosity of the donor. Here they bulge out, deforming the regular plan of the church, or else they take up an important part of the interior of the building. There they are Renaissance jewels in a Gothic temple, or else ogival marvels in a Romanesque building. They are, as it were, small churches—or important annexes like that of the Condestable in Burgos, possessing a dome of its own—absolutely independent of the cathedral itself, rich in decorative details, luxurious in the use of polished stone and metal, of agate and golden accessories, of gilded friezes, low reliefs, and painted retablos. They constitute one of the most characteristic features of Spanish religious architecture and art in general, and it is above all due to them that Iberia's cathedrals are museums rather than solemn places of worship.

But the Spanish people did not erect them; they were commanded by vain and death-fearing caciques, and erected by artists—generally foreigners, though often natives. The people did not care nor take any interest in the matter; so long as the village saint was not insulted, nor their individual liberty (fuero) infringed upon, the world, its artists and caciques, could do as it liked.

This insensibility helped to hinder the formation of a national style. Besides, as the duration of the Spanish nation was so exceedingly short, there was no time at hand to develop a national art school. In certain localities, as in Galicia, a prevailing type or style was in common use, and was slowly evolving into something strictly local and excellent. These types, together with Moorish art, and above all Mudejar work, might have evolved still further and produced a national style. But the nation fell to pieces like a dried-up barrel whose hoops are broken, and the nation's style was never formed.

Besides, contemporary with the birth of the nation was the advent of the Renaissance movement. This was the coup de grâce, the final blow to any germs of a Spanish style, of a style composed of Christian and Islam principles and ideals:

"Es wär zu schön gewesen,

Es hätt' nicht sollen sein!"

Under the circumstances, the art student in Spain, however enthusiastic or one-sided he may be, cannot claim to discover a national school. He must necessarily limit his studies to the analysis of the foreign art waves which inundated the land; he must observe how they became localized and were modified, how they were united both wisely and ridiculously, and he must point out the reasons or causes of these medleys and transformations. There his task ends.

One peculiarity will strike him: the peninsula possesses no pure Gothic, Romanesque, or Renaissance building. The same might almost be stated as regards Moorish art. The capitals of the pillars in the mezquita of Cordoba are Latin-Romanesque, torn from a previous building by the invading Arab to adorn his own temple. The Alhambra, likewise, shows animal arabesques which are Byzantine and not Moorish. Nevertheless, Arab art is, on the whole, purer in style than Christian art.

This transformation of foreign styles proves: (1) That though the Spanish artist lacked creative genius, he was no base imitator, but sought to combine; he sought to give the temple he had to construct that heavy, massive, strong, and sombre aspect so well in harmony with the religious and warlike spirit of the different clanspeople; and (2) that the same artist failed completely to understand the ideal of soaring ogival, of simple Renaissance, or of pure Romanesque (this latter he understood better than either of the others). For him, they—as well as Islam art—were but elements to be made use of. Apart from their constructive use, they were superfluous, and the artist-architect was blind to their ethical object or æsthetical value. With their aid he built architectural wonders, but hybrid marvels, complex, grand, luxurious, and magnificent.

Be it plainly understood, nevertheless, that in the above paragraphs no contempt for Spanish cathedrals is either felt or implied. Facts are stated, but no personal opinion is emitted as to which is better, a pure Gothic or a complicated Spanish Gothic. In art there is really no better; besides, comparisons are odious and here they are utterly superfluous.

Cathedral Churches

Before accompanying the art student in his task of determining the different foreign styles, we will do well to examine certain general characteristics common to all Spanish cathedrals. We will then be able to understand with greater ease the causes of the changes introduced into pure styles.

The exterior aspect of all cathedrals is severe and massive, even naked and solemn. Neither windows nor flying buttresses are used in such profusion as in French cathedrals, and the height of the aisles is greater. The object is doubtless to impart an idea of strength to the exterior walls by raising them in a compact mass. An even greater effect is obtained by square, heavy towers instead of elegant spires. (Compare, however, chapters on Leon, Oviedo, Burgos, etc.) The use of domes (cimborios, lanterns, and cupolas) is also frequent, most of them being decidedly Oriental in appearance. The apse is prominent and generally five-sided, warlike in its severe outline. Stone is invariably used as the principal constructive element,—granite, berroqueña (a soft white stone turning deep gray with age and exposure), and sillar or silleria (a red sandstone cut into similar slabs of the size and aspect of brick). Where red sandstone is used, the weaker parts of the buildings are very often constructed in brick, and it is these last-named cathedrals that are most Oriental in appearance, especially when the brick surface is carved into Mudejar reliefs.

Taken all in all, the whole building often resembles a castle or fortress rather than a temple, in harmony with the austere, arid landscape, and the fierce, passionate, and idolatrous character of the clanspeople or inhabitants of the different regions.

The principal entrance is usually small in comparison to the height and great mass of the building. The pointed arch—or series of arches—which crowns the portal, is timid in its structure, or, in other words, is but slightly pointed or not at all.

The interior aspect of the church is totally different. As bare and naked as was the outside, so luxurious and magnificent is the inside. Involuntarily mediæval Spanish palaces come to our mind: their gloomy appearance from the outside, and the gay patio or courtyard behind the heavy, uninviting panels of the doors. The Moors even to this day employ this system of architecture; its origin, even in the case of Christian churches, is Oriental.

Leaving aside all architectural considerations, which will be referred to in the chapters dedicated to the description of the various cathedrals, let us examine the general disposition of some of the most interesting parts of the Spanish church.

The aisles are, as a rule, high and dark, buried in perpetual shadow. The lightest and airiest part of the building is beneath the croisée (intersection of nave and transept), which is often crowned by a handsome cimborio.

The nave is the most important member of the church, and the most impressive view is obtained by the visitor standing beneath the croisée.

To the east of him, the nave terminates in a semicircular chapel, the farther end of which boasts of an immense retablo; to the west, the choir, with its stalls and organs, interrupts likewise the continuity of the nave. Both choir and altar are rich in decorative details.

Behind the high altar runs the ambulatory, joining the aisles and separating the former from the apse and its chapels. The rear wall of the high altar (in the ambulatory) is called the trasaltar, where a small altar is generally situated in a recess and dedicated to the patron saint, that is, if the cathedral itself be dedicated to the Virgin, as generally happens.

Sometimes an oval window pierces the wall of the trasaltar and lets the light from the apsidal windows enter the high altar; this arrangement is called a transparente.

The choir, as wide as the nave and often as high, is rectangular; an altar-table generally stands in the western extremity, which is closed off by a wall. The rear of this wall (facing the western entrance to the temple) is called the trascoro, and contains the altar or a chapel; the lateral walls are also pierced by low rooms or niches which serve either as chapels or as altar-frames.

The placing of the choir in the very centre of the church, its width and height, and its enclosure on the western end by a wall, render impossible a view of the whole building such as occurs in Northern cathedrals, and upon which the impression of architectural grandeur and majesty largely depends. It was as though Spanish architects were utterly foreign to the latter impression, or wilfully murdered it by substituting another more to their taste, namely, that of magnificence and sumptuousness. Nowhere—to the author's knowledge—is this impression more acutely felt than in a Spanish cathedral, viewed from beneath the croisée.

Glittering brilliancy, dazzling gold, silver, or gilt, polished marble, agate, and jasper, and a luxuriance of vivid colours meet the visitor's eyes when standing there. The effect is theatrical, doubtless, but it impresses the humble true believer as Oriental splendour; and what, in other countries, might be considered as grotesque and unhealthy art, must in Spain be regarded as the very essence of the country's worship, the very raison d'être of the cathedral. Neither can it be considered as unhealthy: with us in the North, our religious awe is produced by the solemn majesty of rising shafts and long, high, and narrow aisles; this fails to impress the Iberian of to-day; and yet, the same sentiment of religious awe, of the terrible unknown, be it saint, Saviour, Virgin, or God, is imparted to him by this brilliant display of incalculable wealth.

To produce this magnificence in choir and high altar, decorative and industrial art were given a free hand, and together wrought those wonders of the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries which placed Spain in a prominent position in the history of art. Goldsmiths and silversmiths, masters of ironcraft, sculptors in stone and wood, painters and estofadores, together with a legion of other artists and artisans of all classes and nationalities, worked together in unison to create both choir and high altar.

Therefore, from an artistic point of view, the Spanish cathedral is for the foreigner a museum, a collection of art objects, pertaining, most of them, to the country's industrial arts, for which Iberia was first among all nations.

Choir Stalls.—Space cannot allow us to classify this most important accessory of Spanish cathedrals. Carved in walnut or oak, now simple and severe, now rich and florid, this branch of graphic art in low relief constitutes one of Spain's most legitimate glories. It is strange that no illustrated work dedicated exclusively to choir stalls should have been published in any language. The tourist's attention must nevertheless be drawn to this part of religious buildings; it must not escape his observation when visiting cathedral and parish churches, and above all, monastical churches.