Part III — The North
I Oviedo
“Oviedo was born of a religious inspiration; its first building was a temple (monastery?), and monks were its first inhabitants.”
In the valley adjoining Cangas, in the eighth century, the most important village in Asturias, a religious sect erected a monastery. Froila or Froela, one of the early noblemen (now called a king, though he was no king in those days) who fought against the Moors, erected in the same century a church in the vicinity of Cangas (in Oviedo?), dedicating it to the Saviour; he also built a palace near the same spot. His son, Alfonso the Chaste, born in this palace, was brought up in a convent near Lugo in Galicia. Upon becoming king he hesitated whether to establish his court in Lugo, or in the new village which had been his birthplace, namely Oviedo. At length, remembering perhaps his father’s love for the country near Cangas, he established it in the latter place in the ninth century, and formed the kingdom of Asturias as opposed to that of Galicia; the capital of the new kingdom was Oviedo.
“The king gave the city to the Saviour and to the venerable church built by his father, and which, like a sun surrounded by its planets, he placed within a circle of other temples.
“He convocated an ecclesiastical council with a view to establish a primate see in Oviedo; he maintained an assembly of prelates who lent lustre to the church, and he gave each a particular residence; the spiritual splendour of Oviedo eclipsed even the brilliancy of the throne.”
This was in 812, and the first bishop consecrated was one Adulfo.
The subsequent reign of Alfonso was signalized by the discovery in Galicia of the corpse of St. James the Apostle. The sovereign, it appears, showed great interest in the discovery, established a church on the sacred spot, and generously donated the nascent town. Not without reason did posterity celebrate his many Christian virtues by calling him the Chaste, el Casto.
Two hundred years only did Oviedo play an important part in the history of Spain as capital of the Christian Kingdom. In 1020 its civil dignities were removed by Alfonso V. to Leon in the south. From then on the city remained important only as the alleged cradle of the new dynasty, and its church—that of the Salvador—was used as the pantheon of the kings.
In the twelfth century the basilica was in a ruinous state, and almost completely destroyed. The fate of the Romanesque edifice which was then built was as short as the city’s glory had been ephemeral, for in 1380 it was destroyed by flames, and in its place the first stone of the present building was laid by one Bishop Gutierre. One hundred and seventy years later the then reigning prelate placed his coat of arms on the spire, and the Gothic monument which is to-day admired by all who visit it was completed.
The history of the city—an ecclesiastical and civil metropolis—is devoid of interest since the tenth century. It was as though the streets were too crowded with the legends of the fictitious kingdom of Asturias, to be enabled to shake off the depression which little by little spread over the whole town.
Apart from its cathedral, Oviedo and the surrounding country possesses many of the earliest religious monuments in Spain, dating from the eighth century. These, on account of their primary Romanesque and basilica style, form a chapter apart in the history of ecclesiastical architecture, and ought to be thoroughly studied. This is not the place, however, to speak about them, in spite of their extreme age and the great interest they awaken.
Nothing could be more graceful than the famous tower of the cathedral of Oviedo, which is a superb Gothic flèche of well-proportioned elements, and literally covered over and encrusted with tiny pinnacles. Slender and tapering, it rises to a height of about 280 feet. It is composed of five distinct bodies, of which the penultimate betrays certain Renaissance influences in the triangular cornices of the windows, etc.; this passes, however, entirely unperceived from a certain distance. The angles formed by the sides of the tower are flanked by a pair of slender shafts in high relief, which tend to give it an even more majestic impression than would be the case without them.
The cathedral itself is a late ogival building belonging to the fifteenth century; though it cannot compare in fairy-like beauty with that of Leon, nor in majesty with that of Burgos, it is nevertheless one of the richest Gothic structures in Spain, especially as regards the decoration of the interior.
The western front is entirely taken up by the triple portal, surmounted by arches that prove a certain reluctance on the builder’s part to make them pointed; the northern extremity of the front is devoid of a tower, though the base be standing. It was originally intended to erect a second flèche similar to the one described, but for some reason or other—without a doubt purely financial—it was never built.
Of the three portals, that which corresponds to the central nave is the larger; it is flanked by the only two statuettes in the whole front, namely, by those of Alfonso the Chaste and Froela, and is surmounted by a bold low relief. The arches of the three doors are richly carved with ogival arabesques, and the panels, though more modern, have been wrought by the hand of a master.
Taken all in all, this western front can be counted among the most sombre and naked in Spain, so naked, in fact, that it appears rather as though money had been lacking to give it a richer aspect than that the artist’s genius should have been so completely devoid of decorative taste or imagination.
The interior of the Roman cruciform building, though by no means one of the largest, is, as regards its architectural disposition, one of the most imposing Gothic interiors in Spain. High, long, and narrow, the central nave is rendered lighter and more elegant by the bold triforium and the lancet windows of the upper clerestory wall. The wider aisles, on the other hand, are dark in comparison to the nave, and tend to give the latter greater importance.
This was doubtless the intention of the primitive master who terminated the aisles at the transept by constructing chapels to the right and to the left of the high altar and on a line with it. The sixteenth-century builders thought differently, however, and so the aisles were prolonged into an apsidal ambulatory behind the high altar. This part of the building is far less pure in style than the primitive structure, and the chapels which open to the right and to the left are of a more recent date, and consequently even more out of harmony than the plateresque ambulatory. The three rose windows in the semicircular apse are richly decorated with ogival nervures, and correspond, one to the nave and one to each of the aisles; they belong to the primitive structure, having illuminated the afore-mentioned chapels.
Standing beneath the croisée, under a simple ogival vaulting, the ribs of which are supported by richly carved capitals and elegant shafts, the tourist is almost as favourably impressed by the view of the high altar to the east and of the choir to the west, as is the case in Toledo. For in Oviedo begins that series of Gothic churches in which the æsthetic impression is not restricted to architectural or sculptural details alone, but is also produced by the blinding display of metal, wood, and other decorative accessories.
The retablo—a fine Gothic specimen—stands boldly forth against the light coming from the apse in the rear, while on the opposite side of the transept handsome, deep brown choir stalls peep out from behind a magnificent iron reja. So beautiful is the view of the choir’s ensemble that the spectator almost forgives it for breaking in upon the grandeur of the nave.
The chapels buried in the walls of the north aisle have most of them been built in too extravagant a manner; the south aisle, on the other hand, is devoid of such characteristic rooms, but contains some highly interesting tomb slabs.
The cloister to the south of the church is a rich and florid example of late ogival; it is, above all, conspicuous for the marvellous variety of its decorative motives, both as regards the sculptural scenes of the capitals (which portray scenes in the lives of saints and Asturian kings, and are almost grotesque, though by no means carved without fire and spirit) and the fretwork of the arches which look out upon the garth.
The Camara Santa, or treasure-room, is an annex to the north of the cathedral, and dates from the ninth or tenth century; it is small, and was formerly used as a chapel in the old Romanesque building torn down in 1380. Beside it, in the eleventh century, was constructed another and larger room in the same style, with the characteristic Romanesque vaulting, the rounded windows, and the decorative motives of the massive pillars and capitals.