ON my first journey to Madrid I travelled most of the way from Valladolid by diligence, and though the way was long and weary, the passage of the Sierra de Guadarrama was very fine, and I remember few pictures more lovely than that which we saw at sunrise, as we climbed the northern side of the mountains amid groups of stone-pines; whilst the steep descent to the village of Guadarrama, on the south, with a slight distant view of Madrid, and a near view of the Escorial, was quite a thing to be remembered with pleasure. Now, however, instead of arriving at Madrid hot, dusty, and sore with a diligence journey, the railway is completed, and the line of country it takes is so beautiful between Avila and Madrid as to leave no room for regrets for the old passage of the mountains by road.

The entrance to Madrid is not very striking. For the last three or four miles the road passes by a fair amount of planted woods, but the river by its side is dry and dreary, and every one in the hot season at which I arrived seemed to be gasping for breath. A very small suburb only is passed before the Queen’s palace is reached: this is built on the edge of a steep hill overhanging the river, and commands a grand view of the Sierra de Guadarrama. This is indeed the one and only glory of such a site as that of Madrid, for were it not for this distant view, I know nothing more dreary and unhappy than the country with which it is surrounded. At the same time, partly owing to the great height above the sea, and partly, probably, to the neighbourhood of this mountain range, the climate here is most treacherous, changing rapidly from the most violent heat in the daytime, to what seems by contrast to be icy chilliness at night.

A garden with statues is laid out in front of the palace, and beyond this, passing some narrow streets, one soon reaches the Puerta del Sol, a fine irregular space in the centre of the city, with a fountain in the centre which is always playing pleasantly, and on great occasions sends up a jet to an unusual height. The Puerta del Sol is very irregular, and on sloping ground, and hence it has a certain pleasing picturesqueness, which probably accounts for the reputation it has achieved.

There is one great attraction to me in Madrid, and only one—the Picture Gallery. And it is as well for travellers to take up their quarters in one of the hotels near the Puerta del Sol, where they are within a walk of it, rather than in the respectable Fonda de Ynglaterra, where I found myself quite too far from everything that I wanted to see.

I discovered no old churches here. Madrid is, in fact, a thoroughly modern city, and is remarkable as not being the see of a bishop, the Archbishops of Toledo having succeeded in retaining it in their diocese.

I found, therefore, nothing whatever to do in the way of ecclesiologizing; and yet, on the whole, having formed a very low estimate of the place beforehand, I was rather agreeably disappointed. The situation is unquestionably fine, the views of the mountains beautiful, the streets busy and smart, and the fountains, which seem to be innumerable, are on a scale which would astonish our London authorities. The evenings are always deliciously cool, and then all Madrid is on the move; the very well laid out and planted Prado is thronged with smart people on foot, and smarter people in carriages; and until one has suffered as one does from the extreme heat of the day, it is hardly possible to imagine the luxurious freshness of the cool night. It is said, however, to be a dangerous pleasure, pulmonary complaints being very common.

The two great sights are the Museo and the Armeria; the latter is said to be the best collection of arms in Europe, but somehow I always managed to want to go there too early or too late, and, after divers mistakes, in the end did not see it at all. Of the Museo it is difficult to speak with too much enthusiasm: the number of pictures is enormous, and it seemed to me that there was a larger proportion than is usual of very first-rate works. Its deficiency is mainly in early pictures—Italian, German, and Spanish. The early Italian schools are represented by one Angelico da Fiesole only: this is a beautiful example; an Annunciation, with the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Eden on the left of the picture, and five subjects from the life of the Blessed Virgin in the predella. Among these, the Marriage of the Blessed Virgin has a close resemblance to Perugino’s and Raffaelle’s celebrated pictures. I could see no examples of Francia or Perugino, not to speak of earlier men; whilst the few early German works were none of them of any great interest.

On the other hand, the pictures by Titian, Velasquez, Raffaelle, Veronese, Tintoret, Murillo, and others of the great masters of their age, are numerous and magnificent beyond description.

Velasquez and Titian are both so grand that I hardly knew which to admire the most; of the former, perhaps on the whole the most charming work is the portrait of Prince Balthazar, a noble boy, galloping forward gallantly on his pony; whilst of the Titians, I think the most striking was a weird-looking portrait of Charles V. in armour on horseback. Murillo of course is in great force; he has frequent representations of the Assumption, always treated in the same way: his work has a religious spirit wanting in the manlier work of Titian and Veronese, but yet not the true religious spirit so much as a sentimental affectation of it. Of Ribera—better known in England as Spagnoletto—there are a great many examples, generally disagreeable portraits of emaciated saints in distorted attitudes, and a horrible elaboration of ghastliness. Juan Juanes, an earlier Spanish painter, is much more agreeable, and he seems to have been largely inspired by Perugino and his school; a series of five subjects from the life of St. Stephen are perhaps the most interesting of his works here.

The room in which the greatest treasures of the Gallery are collected is called the Salon de la Reyna Isabel. Unfortunately a large opening in the floor, to give light to a gallery of sculpture below, makes it a little difficult to see some of the pictures at all well. At its upper end is the famous Spasimo de Sicilia, a noble work, but spoilt by the awkward and distorted drawing of the soldiers on the left. Near it is a very fine Giovanni Bellini, the Delivery of the Keys to St. Peter; and by its side a Giorgione, with a man in armour, as fine as anything I know,—the subject, the Virgin and Saints. By Bronzino there is a violin-player, a lad with a face beyond measure loveable. But it were endless to go on through a list even of the chefs-d’oeuvre in such a collection; and it is the less necessary to say much more than generally to praise the whole Gallery as one of the first, if not the first, in Europe, because, now that railways make the journey thither so much more easy, some, no doubt, of our thousands of annual travellers will make their way to Madrid, to make lists for themselves of the best of its pictures.

There is as little interest in modern as in earlier architecture here; the only development that struck me being a fashion the people have of diapering houses all over with a kind of thirteenth-century painting on plaster; but I was not struck with the beauty of the development. The best street is the Calle de AlcalÁ, leading from the Puerta del Sol to the Prado. It is of great width, rising from the Puerta del Sol and falling to the Prado, and not straight, all which points are much in its favour: but the houses on either side are not generally so fine as they should be, and there is consequently a slightly faded look about it, which is not otherwise characteristic of Madrid. To see the Calle de AlcalÁ to advantage, the day of a bull-fight should be selected. Then from half-past three to four all the world streams along it to the arena, excited, running, pushing, buying red and yellow paper fans for the seats in the sun, and as noisy, boisterous, and enthusiastic as all the world at any of our own national gatherings. The picadors in their quaint dresses come galloping along on their sorry steeds, each attended by a man in a blouse riding on the same horse, and whose office it is afterwards to make the poor wretch face the bull by beating him with a long stick. Omnibuses and vehicles of all kinds bring their share of the mob; and when I took my seat, I believe there were not less than twelve thousand people assembled, every seat in the rather shabby but vast arena being full. Women formed a very small proportion only of the whole number, and I noticed that a lady who sat near me seemed as much shocked as I was at the brutal parts of the exhibition; for all parts of it are by no means brutal, and, indeed, I should be inclined to limit the term to those parts in which horses are introduced. It would be quite as pleasant to indulge oneself by an occasional visit to a knacker’s yard, as to sit quietly looking on whilst a furious bull rips up a miserable beast, usually blindfolded, in order that it may not move from the spot at which the picador chooses to receive the attack; but this part of the performance over, there is little that is disgusting, and a great deal that is singularly exciting and skilful. The men seldom seem to be in any real danger of being caught by the bull, and nothing can be cleverer than the way in which one of the chulos will dance before him half across the arena, always avoiding his charge by a hair’s-breadth only, or in which one of the banderilleros, seated in a chair, will plant his two arrows exactly on each side of the bull just as he stoops to toss him, and the next instant jump out of his seat, whilst the chair is dashed to atoms by the furious beast.

I felt, however, that one bull-fight was enough for me; the treatment of each bull is of necessity the same, and the mules have no sooner galloped out of one door trailing the dead bull and his victims out of the arena, than another dashes in from the opposite side, only to meet the same fate. The way in which the bulls come in is very striking: they rush in madly like wild beasts, and generally charge rapidly at one of the picadors or chulos. I asked a Spaniard how this was managed, and he explained that in the den from which they emerge they are goaded with sharp-pointed spears just before the doors are opened, and of course come into the arena mad with rage!

The object of bull-fights seems to be generally charitable—in the sense that charity bazaars are so. At Valencia, where they have recently erected an arena which almost rivals in size the Roman amphitheatres, the work has been done by the trustees of the hospitals, and this seemed to be usually the destination of the receipts whenever I saw them advertized. That it is possible to have a bull-fight of even a worse kind than the Spanish I learnt at NÎmes, where the cicerone showing me the amphitheatre explained that they had a bull-fight every Sunday, but never killed their bulls—only goaded them week after week!

Whilst I was at Madrid I made an excursion to AlcalÁ de Henares, the seat of Cardinal Ximenes’ famous university, under the impression that I should find a good deal to reward me. In this, however, I was disappointed, as the churches are mostly works of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and the whole place is decayed, unprosperous, and uncared for, without being picturesque and venerable.

The principal church, “El Magistral,” of SS. Just y Pastor—the tutelars of the city—is a large, late church of poor style. It has a nave and aisles of five bays, transepts and choir of one bay, and an apse of three sides. The aisle round the apse is contrived with three square bays and four triangular, and is evidently founded on the beautiful plan of the chevet of Toledo cathedral; but I must say that Pedro Gumiel “el Honrado,” Regidor of AlcalÁ, and architect of this church, has perfectly succeeded in avoiding any repetition of the beauties of Toledo; his work being thoroughly uninteresting and poor. The three western bays of the nave are open; the two eastern enclosed with screens and stalled for the Coro. A bronze railing under the Crossing connects the Coro with the Capilla mayor. There are no less than six pulpits here! two at the entrance to the choir for the Epistoler and Gospeller, two on the west of the Crossing, and two more opposite each other against the second column from the west in the nave. It looks just as though they had ordered a pair of pulpits as they did a pair of organs; and as preaching does not seem to be much the fashion now in Spain, I had no opportunity of learning how these many pulpits were to be used. There are two organs, one on each side over the Coro; that on the south so picturesque as to be worthy of illustration.

Organ, AlcalÁ.
Organ, AlcalÁ.

Two great monuments—one in the nave, and one under the Crossing—are remarkable for the position of the effigies with their feet to the west. On the south side of the south transept is a small chapel roofed with a most rich and delicate Moorish plaster ceiling; the whole was richly coloured. It did not appear to be earlier than the church, which is said to have been constructed between the years 1497 and 1509.

The University founded by Ximenes is in a wretched state of dilapidation; it is said to have been designed by the same Pedro Gumiel who built SS. Just y Pastor, but the work, so far as I saw it, was all Renaissance. The faÇade and court behind it were the work of Rodrigo Gil de HontaÑon, between A.D. 1550 and 1553, and he destroyed Pedro Gumiel’s work in order to erect it. By the side of the college stands the church of San Ildefonso, which I suppose must be the chapel built by Pedro Gumiel. It is, I believe, desecrated, and no one could tell me where the key was to be found, so that I was unable to do more than get a note of the curious Cimborio from the exterior. It is not a lantern, but rather a raising of the whole centre of the church above the remainder. It is constructed of brick and stone, and is evidently of late date. Under this Cimborio, I believe, is the monument of the great Cardinal.

There are considerable remains of the old walls, with circular towers rather closely set around them. The bishop’s palace retains a fine tower, which seems to have been connected with the town walls. It is plain below, but has turrets picturesquely corbelled out on machicoulis over the centre of each side and at each angle. A wing of the palace which joins this tower has some very remarkable domestic windows, which deserve illustration. The shafts are of marble, the tracery and the wall below the sill of stone, but the wall of brick. The shafts are set behind each other, there is a good ball-flower enrichment in the label, and the mouldings are rich and good of their kind. Such a window seems to unite the characteristics of two or three countries, and is, indeed, in this, an epitome of Spanish art, which borrowed freely from other lands, and often imported foreign architects, yet, in spite of all this, is still almost always national in its character.

It is an easy journey from AlcalÁ to Guadalajara; and though the latter place disappointed me much, it is still worthy of a few hours’ delay to those who pass by it on the Madrid and Zaragoza railway. Seen from the distance it is an imposing city, and if it be seen as I saw it during fair time, full of peasants in gay costume, the general impression may be not unpleasant; but unfortunately, the early architectural remains are few and generally insignificant.

The church of Sta. Maria is the subject of a picturesque view in Villa Amil’s book, and he deserves great praise for the skill with which he has created something out of nothing. I could find no feature worth recording save its two Moresque doorways, in one of which—that at the west end—the arch is of the pointed horseshoe form, and the archivolt is built of bricks, some of which are set forward from the face of the wall in the fashion of the rustic work in the execution of which certain schools of architects everywhere seem to take a grave pleasure, of which, perhaps, it would be unkind to wish to deprive them.

The church of San Miguel has a portion of the exterior built in a rich nondescript style—debased Moresque is, perhaps, the right term for it—in the year 1540, as an inscription on the church records. The lower part of the only original portion remaining is built of rough stone, the upper of brick; and it is argued by some, I believe, that the use of the two materials proves that the work was executed at different epochs. To me it seemed that the whole was uniform in style, and evidently the work of sixteenth-century builders. It has large circular projections at the angles, which are finished with fantastic cappings, and sham machicoulis below the ponderous overhanging cornices which ornament the walls both at the end and sides. These cornices have deep brick consoles at intervals, the spaces between them filled with crosses on panels of terracotta. The rest of the church seems to be modernized. Both here and at Sta. Maria there are external cloister passages outside the church walls, modern in style and date, but similar in object to those of Segovia and Valladolid already described. Another little church, called La Antigua, has an eastern apse of brick and stone, with window openings of many cusps formed very simply with bricks of various lengths. This work is similar to much of the Moresque work at Toledo, and it is rather remarkable how continuous the line of Moresque buildings from Toledo to Zaragoza seems to be.

No. 27. GUADALAJARA. p. 203. PALACE OF THE DUKE DEL INFANTADO.
No. 27.
GUADALAJARA. p. 203.
PALACE OF THE DUKE DEL INFANTADO.

I saw no other old church here; but the very fine late Gothic palace del Infantado is well worth a visit. It is like so much Spanish work, a strange jumble of Gothic and Pagan, slightly dashed perhaps with Moorish sentiment, and with the somewhat strange feature that the most Gothic portion is above, and the most Pagan below. The faÇade has a rich late Gothic doorway, and the face of the wall is diapered all over with what look like pointed nail-heads. The two lower stages have windows of the commonest type, with pediments, whilst the upper stage has a rich open arcade, every third division of which has a picturesque projecting oriel, boldly corbelled forward from the face of the wall. Some Pagan windows have evidently been inserted here; and it is possible that some of the other details have been, but if so the work has been done so neatly that it is difficult to detect the alteration. The courtyard or patio has seven open divisions on two sides, and five divisions on the others, and is of two stages in height. The lower range of columns has evidently been modernized, but in the upper they are very richly carved and twisted. The arches are ogee trefoils cusped, and their spandrels are clumsily filled with enormous lions cut in deep relief, and boldly standing on nothing, whilst they manage to hold up a diminutive coat of arms as a sort of finial to the arch. In the upper arcades griffins take the place of the lions, and the arches are again richly cusped. I noticed the date of A.D. 1570 on the capital of one of the columns, but this I have no doubt was the date of the Pagan alterations, and not that of the original fabric, which is said to have been erected in the year 1461.[195]

The Dukes del Infantado had a grand palace in this building, and though it has long been neglected and disused, it seems as if it were again about to be occupied, as I found workmen busily engaged in a sort of restoration of the sculptures in the patio, which they were repairing, if I remember right, with plaster.

The sight of a river is always pleasant in this part of Spain, and so, though there is not much water in the Henares, I looked gratefully at it, and at the trees growing by its banks, as I sauntered down to the railway station after a rather weary day spent in vainly trying to find enough to occupy my time and my pencil.

A railway journey of two or three hours carries one hence to a far pleasanter and more profitable city, SigÜenza, whose cathedral is of first-rate interest, and, generally speaking, well preserved. It is, like so many of the Spanish churches, unusually complete in its dependent building’s; and though these sometimes obscure parts of the building which one would like to examine, they always add greatly to the general interest. The plan[196] here consists of a nave and aisles of only four bays in length, but the dimensions are so considerable that the interior does not look short. Two western towers are placed at the angles, touching the main walls only at one corner, and giving consequently great breadth to the faÇade. There are transepts and an apsidal choir, with an aisle, or procession-path—and no chapels—all round it. The choir is old, the procession-path of Renaissance character, and it is clear that when first built this church had no choir-aisle with surrounding chapels, and it was, I have no doubt, terminated in the usual early Spanish fashion, with three eastern apsidal chapels.

I have not met with any notice of the foundation of this church, save that given by Gil Gonzalez DÁvila.[197] He says that the king Don Alonso, after having gained Toledo from the Moors, and appointed Bernardo archbishop, took SigÜenza, Al-maÇan, Medina Celi, and other places of importance. He then restored the cathedral here, which was dedicated on June 19th, 1102, and appointed as first bishop Don Bernardo, a Benedictine monk, who had taken the habit at Cluny, and who was a native of France. The Archbishop of Toledo was his patron, and he was one of the many French bishops appointed at this time to Spanish sees through his great influence. The epitaph of D. Bernardo, given by DÁvila, records that he rebuilt this church, and consecrated it on the day of St. Stephen in the year 1123. This inscription, however, is not of much value, as it was written after the translation of the bishop’s body in 1598. The second bishop was also a Frenchman, and a native of Poitiers.

No. 28 SIGÜENZA CATHEDRAL p. 304. INTERIOR OF NAVE AND AISLES LOOKING NORTH EAST
No. 28
SIGÜENZA CATHEDRAL p. 304.
INTERIOR OF NAVE AND AISLES LOOKING NORTH EAST

A very small portion—if indeed any—of the work of the first bishop now remains. There is one fragment of early Romanesque work to the east of the cloister, which no doubt formed part of it; and it is just possible that the three enormous cylindrical columns, which still remain in the nave, are of the same age. If this be so, I should be inclined to assume that the choir only was consecrated in A.D. 1123, and that the nave was commenced and carried on very slowly, until, as the style developed, the simple cylindrical columns were abandoned for the fine groups of clustered shafts which are elsewhere used. The general style of the church is a very grand and vigorous first-pointed, early in the style, but still not at all Romanesque in character; and I know few interiors which have impressed me more with their extreme grandeur and stability than this. The truth is, that the somewhat excessive solidity of the work—as heavy and ponderous in substance as the grandest Romanesque—is singularly noble when combined as it is here with very considerable height in the columns and walls, and with fine pointed arches, early traceried windows, and good sculpture. Unfortunately this massive grandeur is only a matter of envy to a wretched architect in the nineteenth century, whose main triumph, if he would prosper, must be to use as few bricks and as small fragments of stone as he can, to the intent that his work should certainly be cheap, and in forgetfulness, if possible, that it will also certainly be bad! Here, however, the architect wrought for eternity as far as was possible, and with a success which admits of no doubt and no cavil. He has been singularly fortunate, too, in the comparative freedom from subsequent alterations which his work has enjoyed. The Renaissance procession-path round the choir, which is the most important addition, certainly spoils the external effect; but it is hardly noticed in the interior, until you find yourself under its heavy and tame panelled roof, and outside the solid wall which still encircles the ancient apse.

The groining of the choir and transepts is sexpartite, but everywhere else it is quadripartite; and the ribs, which are very bold in their dimensions, are generally moulded, but over the crossing are enriched with the dog-tooth ornament. The same decoration is also carved on the clerestory windows of the choir and transepts.

The original windows generally still remain. Those in the aisles are single round-headed lights of grand size, with double engaged shafts, both inside and outside: those in the clerestory are of more advanced character, some being of two and some of four lights, of the best early plate tracery, with pointed enclosing arches. The western bay of the choir has lancet clerestory windows, and the apse of seven sides has also a lancet in each face, with a sort of triforium below, which is now closed, but which before the addition of the procession-path was probably pierced. Below this quasi-triforium the wall of the apse is circular in plan, whilst above it is polygonal, and the difference shows the very gradual way in which the building was erected, one of the most usual points of distinction between the Romanesque and the early-pointed planning of an apse being that in the former it is circular, and in the latter polygonal.

In speaking of the windows, I have omitted to mention the finest, which are undoubtedly the roses in the principal gables. That in the south transept is one of the finest I know;[198] and whilst it is remarkable for the vigorous character of its design it is also to be noted for a peculiarity which I have before observed in early Spanish traceries. This is the mode in which the traceries are, as it were, packed against each other. It is especially noticeable in the outer line of circles which are inserted like so many wheels abutting against each other, and without the continuous central moulding to which we are generally accustomed. Here, as well as in the interior, the dog-tooth ornament is freely used; and the outer mouldings of the circle are of good character.

The exterior of this church is of as great interest as the interior. The two western steeples are of the very plainest possible character, pierced merely with narrow slits, which light the small chambers in the interior of the tower.

The buttresses are of enormous size; and in the angles between them and the walls are set engaged shafts, which run up to and finish under the arcaded eaves-cornices with which the walls are finished under the roof. At the west end these shafts are carried up to a greater height, and support three bold arches, one in each division of the faÇade, corresponding in height pretty nearly with the groining inside. I find, on looking at my notes on this church, that I observed upon this as a feature which I recollected at Notre Dame, Poitiers; and there is some significance, therefore, in the record of the fact that the second bishop, in whose time probably this part of the church was built, was a native of that city.

The western door is round-arched, but the cornice over it has been destroyed; and the finish of the buttresses and whole upper part of the west front have been modernized. The transept doors are not old, but seem to be in their old places, placed close to the western side, so as not to interfere with the placing of an altar against the eastern wall. At Tudela cathedral the old doorways still remain just in the same place; and viewed in regard to convenience, and not with a view to making the most important and regular architectural elevation, there is no doubt as to the advantage of the plan.

In addition to the two western steeples there is also one of more modern erection and smaller dimensions on the east side of the south transept. The other late additions to the church are some chapels on the south side of the choir, a grand sacristy on its north side, some small chapels between the buttresses on the north side, and the Parroquia of San Pedro, running north and south, near the west end. This and the chapel on the south side of the choir are of late Gothic date, and of very uninteresting character. Indeed it is remarkable how little the work of the later Spanish architects ordinarily has in it that is of much real value. The early works always have something of that air of mystery and sublimity which is the true mark of all good architecture, whilst the later have generally too much evidence of being mere professional cut-and-dried works, lifeless and tame, like the large majority of the works to which a vicious system of practice has reduced us at the present day.

The cloister, to which also the same remark will apply, was finished in A.D. 1507 by Cardinal Mendoza, as we learn from an inscription in Roman letters with a Renaissance frame round them, which is let into the wall on the south side;[199] and I noticed that the very florid early Renaissance altar-tomb and door to the cloister, which fills a great part of the inside of the north transept, is inscribed to the memory of the same cardinal.[200]

The buildings round the cloister are not remarkable. The summer Chapter-house is of grand size, with a rather good flat painted ceiling, and pictures of the Sibyls against the walls. At the south end is a chapel with an altar, divided by an iron Reja from the Chapter-room.

A Renaissance doorway to another room on the east side of the cloister has the inscription, Musis. sacra. domus. hec, and leads to the practising-room for the choir.

The ritual arrangements here are of the usual kind. The bishop’s stall is in the centre of the west end, and was made for its place; but the whole of the woodwork is of the latest Gothic, and proves nothing as to the primitive arrangement. Gil Gonzalez DÁvila[201] gives an inscription from the tomb of Simon de Cisneros, who died in 1326, and who is there said to be the bishop: “Qui hanc ecclesiam authoritate apostolica ex regulari in secularem reduxit ac multis Ædificiis exornavit.” I hardly know what buildings still remaining can be exactly of this date; but it is evident that the statement refers to subordinate buildings and not to the main fabric of the church.

The people of SiguËuza seem to be more successful than is usual in Spain in the cultivation of green things. The cloister garden is prettily planted, and has the usual fountain in the centre. There is a grove of trees in the Plaza, on the south side of the church; and a public garden to the north is really kept in very fair order, and looks pleasantly shady.

I saw no other old building here except a castle on the hill above the town, with square towers projecting at intervals from the outer wall; but it seemed to have been much modernized, and I did not go into it.

[larger view]
[largest view]
SIGÜENZA: Ground Plan of the Cathedral &c. Plate XIII. Published by John Murray. Albemarle Street 1865