Kitabı oku: «The Picturesque Antiquities of Spain», sayfa 19
LETTER XXII.
INQUISITION. COLLEGE OF SAN TELMO. CIGAR MANUFACTORY. BULL CIRCUS. EXCHANGE. AYUNTAMIENTO
Seville.
In the faubourg of Triana, separated from the town by the river, may be distinguished remains of the ancient castle, which became the headquarters of the Inquisition, on its first creation, in 1482. That body was, however, shortly afterwards, compelled to evacuate the building, by a great inundation of the Guadalquivir, which occurred in the year 1626. It then moved into the town, and, from that period to the close of its functions, occupied an edifice situated in the parish of Saint Mark. Its jurisdiction did not extend beyond Andalucia. The entire body was composed of the following official persons:—three inquisitors, a judge of the fisc, a chief Alguazil, a receiver, (of fines,) five secretaries, ten counsellors, eighty qualifiers, one advocate of the fisc, one alcayde of the prison, one messenger, ten honest persons, two surgeons, and one porter. For the City of Seville, one hundred familiars: for the entire district, the commissaries, notaries, and familiars, amounted to four thousand. The ten honest persons cut but a sorry figure in so long a list. Do they not tempt you to parody Prince Hal's exclamation "Monstrous! but one halfpenny-worth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack?"
The Inquisition of Seville is of an earlier date than that of Toledo, and was the first established in Spain. It was likewise the most distinguished by the rigour of its sentences. The actual horrors of the inquisitorial vaults were, I imagine, in general much exaggerated. A few instances of severity, accompanied by a mystery, skilfully designed to magnify its effect, was sufficient to set on fire the inflammable imaginations of these sunny regions, and to spread universal terror. It was on finding these means insufficient for the extirpation of religious dissent, that, at length, executions were decreed by wholesale. Rather than give credit to the voluminous list of the secret cruelties, which were supposed by many to be exercised by the midnight tribunals, and which could have no adequate object, since a conversion brought about by such means could not, when known, profit the cause. I think it probable that all acts of severity were made as public as possible, in order to employ the terror they inspired as a means of swelling the ranks of Catholicism.
My opinion is in some measure backed by what occurred at Toledo. On the Inquisition of that city being dislodged from its palace,—now the seat of the provincial administration,—it was expected that the exploration of the subterraneous range of apartments, known to be extensive, would bring to light a whole Apocalypse of horrors; and all who had interest enough to obtain admission, pressed in crowds to be present at the opening. The disappointment was immense on finding not a single piece of iron, not the shadow of a skeleton, not a square inch of bloodstain. Each individual, however, during the permanence of these tribunals, lived in awe of their power; and the daily actions of thousands were influenced by the fear of becoming the victims of their cruelties, whether real or imaginary.
The terror which surrounded the persons of their agents invested them with a moral power, which frequently rendered them careless of the precaution of physical force in cases where it would have appeared to be a necessary instrument in the execution of their designs. This confidence was once well-nigh fatal to two zealous defenders of the faith. The Archbishop of Toledo, subsequently Cardinal Ximenes de Cisneros being on a visit at the residence of his brother of the see of Granada, it occurred to them during an after-dinner conversation that, could they accomplish the immediate conversion of the few thousands of Moors remaining in Granada, it would be the means of rendering a signal service to the Catholic Roman Apostolic religion.
Inflamed with a sudden ardour, and rendered doubly fearless of results by the excellence of the archiepiscopal repast, they resolved that the project should be put in execution that very evening.
Ever since the Conquest of Granada, a portion of the city had been appropriated to the Moors who thought proper to remain; and who received on that occasion the solemn assurance that no molestation would be offered to their persons or property, nor impediment thrown in the way of their worship. Their part of the town was called the Albaycin, and was separated from the rest by a valley. It contained some twenty to thirty thousand peaceably disposed inhabitants.
The two enterprising archbishops, their plan being matured (although insufficiently, as will appear) repaired to a house bordering on the Moorish quarter; and, calling together all the Familiars of the Inquisition who could be met with on the spur of the occasion, divided them into parties, each of a certain force, and dispatched them on their errand, which was, to enter the houses of the infidels, and to intimate to the principal families the behest of the prelates, requiring them by break of day, to abjure the errors of their creed, and to undergo the ceremony of baptism.
But in order that so meritorious a work should meet with the least possible delay, all the children under a certain age were to be conveyed instantaneously to the house occupied by the Archbishops, in order that they might be baptised at once.
The agents opened the campaign, and had already made away with a certain number of terrified infants, whose souls were destined to be saved thus unceremoniously, when the alarm began to spread; and, at the moment when the two dignitaries, impatient to commence operations, were inquiring for the first batch of unfledged heretics, an unexpected confusion of sounds was heard to proceed simultaneously from all sides of the house, and to increase rapidly in clearness and energy: and some of the attendants, entering, with alarm depicted on their countenances, announced that a few hundred armed Moors had surrounded the house, and were searching for an entrance.
It now, for the first time, occurred to the confederates, that difficulties might possibly attend the execution of their project; and their ardour having had nearly time to cool, Archbishop Ximenes, a personage by no means wanting in prudence and energy, during his moments of reason, employed the first instants of the siege in taking what precautions the circumstances admitted. He next proceeded to indite a hasty line, destined for the sovereigns Ferdinand and Isabella, who were journeying in the province, to inform them of his situation, and request immediate assistance. A black slave was selected to be the bearer of the letter: but, thinking to inspire him with greater promptitude and zeal, an attendant thrust into his hand a purse of money together with the document.
The effect of this was the opposite to that which was intended. The negro treated himself at every house of entertainment on his road; until, before he had half accomplished his journey, he was totally incapacitated for further progress. This circumstance could not, however, influence the fate of the besieged prelates; who would have had time to give complete satisfaction to the offended Moors before the King could receive the intelligence. Fortunately for them, the news had reached the governor of Granada, a general officer in whose religious zeal they had not had sufficient confidence to induce them to apply to him for aid in the emergency. That officer, on hearing the state of things, sent for a body of troops stationed at a neighbouring village, to whose commander he gave orders to place a guard, for the protection at the same time of the churchmen from violent treatment, and of the Moors from every sort of molestation. This adventure of the Archbishop drew upon him the temporary displeasure of the Court.
PORTAL OF SAN TELMO, SEVILLE.
The public buildings of Seville are on as grand a scale as those of some of the principal capitals of Europe. The college of San Telmo, fronting the Christina-gardens, is composed of two large quadrangles, behind a façade of five or six hundred feet in length, the centre of which is ornamented by a portal of very elaborate execution in the plateresco style. The architect, Matias de Figueroa, has literally crammed the three stories with carved columns, inscriptions, balconies, statues single and grouped, arches, medallions, wreaths, friezes. Without subjecting it to criticism on the score of purity, to which it makes no pretension, it certainly is rich in its general effect, and one of the best specimens of its style. This college was founded for the instruction of marine cadets, and for that reason named after S. Telmo, who is adopted by the mariners for their patron and advocate, as Santa Barbara is by the land artillery. He was a Dominican friar, and is recorded to have exercised miraculous influence on the elements, and thereby to have preserved the lives of a boatful of sailors, when on the point of destruction. The gardens in front of this building are situated between the river and the town walls. They are laid out in flower beds and walks. In the centre is a raised platform of granite, forming a long square of about an acre or more in extent, surrounded with a seat of white marble. It is entered at each end by an ascent of two or three steps. This is called the Salon, and on Sundays and Feast-days is the resort of the society of Seville. In the winter the hour of the promenade is from one to three o'clock; in the summer, the hours which intervene between sunset and supper. During winter as well as summer, the scent of the flowers of the surrounding gardens fills the Salon, than which it is difficult to imagine a more charming promenade.
The cigar manufactory is also situated outside the walls. It is a modern edifice of enormous dimensions, and not inelegant. In one of the rooms between two and three hundred cigareras, girls employed in rolling cigars, are seen at work, and heard likewise; for, such a Babel of voices never met mortal ear, although familiar with the music of the best furnished rookeries. The leaden roof, which covers the whole establishment, furnishes a promenade of several acres.
I am anxious to return to the interior of Seville, in order to introduce you to the Lonja; but we must not omit the Plaza de los Toros, (bull circus,) situated likewise outside the walls, and in view of the river. It is said to be the handsomest in Spain, as well as the largest. In fact it ought to be the best, as belonging to the principal city of the especial province of toreadores. It is approached by the gate nearest to the cathedral, and which deserves notice, being the handsomest gate of Seville. The principal entrance to the Plaza is on the opposite side from the town, where the building presents a large portion of a circle, ornamented with plain arches round the upper story. This upper portion extends only round a third part of the circus, which is the extent of the part completed with boxes and galleries, containing the higher class seats. All the remainder consists of an uniform series of retreating rows of seats, in the manner of an amphitheatre, sufficient for the accommodation of an immense multitude. These rows of seats are continued round the whole circus: but those beneath the upper building are not accessible to the same class of spectators as the others—the price of the place being different. This is regulated by the position with regard to the sun, the shaded seats being the dearest. The upper story consists of an elegant gallery, ornamented with a colonnade, in the centre of which the box of the president is surmounted by a handsomely decorated arch.
The circus, measured from the outside, is about two hundred and fifty feet in diameter. Those who are desirous of witnessing to what lengths human enthusiasm may be carried, should see a representation in this Plaza. With seven prime bulls from La Ronda, and a quadrille of Seville toreros—the enormous circumference as full as it can hold, (as it always is,) it is one of the most curious sights that can be met with.
The origin of this amusement is not easy to be ascertained. It was undoubtedly in vogue among the Spanish Arabs, and probably originated in the time of the Goths, on the falling off of the representations of the Roman amphitheatres for want of a sufficient supply of wild beasts. In times not very remote, it had become principally an amateur performance, and the toreros were men of rank, who made choice of this arena, subsequently to the falling into disuse of the lists, in order to exhibit their daring and dexterity before the objects of their flame. The science is still studied by the greater part of the Spanish youth; just as, in England, the custom is maintained of receiving instruction in pugilism; but an amateur is rarely seen in these days to figure in a public arena.
The intense interest which absorbs the feelings of those present at these representations, affords a faint notion of what must have been the attractions of a Roman circus, in which combats were sustained by hundreds of wild beasts. In the bull-fight—sustained by a single animal, the interest would not probably be excited by the mere contest for life which takes place between the man and the brute, and of which the ultimate result is foreseen. It would, on the contrary, often yield to the disgust produced by the needless massacre of the horses; were it not that the graceful performance of the toreros, and their elegant costume, so well calculated to set off the symmetry of their form, first draws the attention, which, once fixed, is gradually absorbed by the progress of the contest, and at length irresistibly won by the variety of unforeseen incidents which follow in rapid succession.
Frequenters of theatres have been seen to fall asleep during the most stirring scene of a melodrame; and a continual murmur of conversation usually forms a running accompaniment to the voices of opera singers; but no one was ever detected slumbering in a plaza de toros; nor is a remark uttered that does not relate to the performance. This difference may probably be explained by the superior attraction of the imprévu. In the playhouse not only is the event known beforehand, but also every incident by which it is preceded; whereas, throughout a corrida de toros nothing can be foreseen. No one knows, during the present minute, whether the next will give birth to the direst of tragedies, or to the most exhilarating farce.
At Madrid the representations are inferior to those at Seville. They are able, it is true, to procure as fierce bulls; but they are brought from a considerable distance, and are much more expensive. The principal inferiority consists in the men, who at Madrid are wanting in the rapidity of eye, and careless courage of the Andaluz. On the entrance of a bull on the arena, whose attitude gives promise of an animated course, almost all the Madrid toreros, (I have seen all,) will, at his first onset, disappear simultaneously over the barrera. The barrera is the enclosure of stout planks, strengthened by posts, which separates the performers from the spectators. It is about six feet in height. At a height of three feet a projecting ledge runs round the whole, upon which, in vaulting over, the toreador places his foot. Behind this enclosure an open space of four feet in width is left, and serves as a refuge for those who are hard pressed. Very different is the graceful and careless attitude with which the Andaluz awaits the approach of the infuriated brute, and quietly springs aside with a flourish of his mantle of silk, while he knows there are others at hand to draw off the animal's attention.
With the exception of the Toros the public amusements of Seville are limited to the balls at the Lonja during the Carnival, and to the opera. The opera varies its own pleasures, while it distributes its favours between the two western capitals of the province. From midsummer to midwinter Cadiz receives her share of melody, and the remaining six months are bestowed on Seville. Xeres has, I believe, a company to itself, supplied by a different impresario.
The Rossi is an excellent primera dama, although wanting in animation; and Comfortini is by no means a bad tenor. The second tenor, Tosi, is said to be ambitious of displaying his somewhat exaggerated attitudes on the boards of the Haymarket. There is a deficiency of ensemble, since the severe discipline necessary for obtaining that result does not accord with the genius of the place—or perhaps an unexceptionable maestro de capella is too expensive a luxury to suit the Seville purses. However this may be, the easy inhabitants, who hear the same opera frequently six times in a week, and would hear it seven times had not the performers a holiday on Saturday—may be taken grievous liberties with before they utter a complaint. They, in fact, look upon the performance chiefly as an excuse for resorting to this their habitual lounge.
The Barbiere di Seviglia should, however, be witnessed here by every amateur. It is only here that justice is done to the libretto of Rossini's masterpiece. Figaro becomes a real barber, and scorns all velvets and finery; and Almaviva leaves his court-dress at home, and takes a good capa of paño pardo for his nocturnal excursions. The scenery represents the actual streets of Seville. Local customs are introduced, and local expressions interspersed in the Italian dialogue. On this occasion one spirit animates boxes, lunetas, orchestra, and stage. At the opening note of the first melody the allegro, passing like electricity from the corner of the page through the eye, brain, and arm of the leader, appears as though it spirted like wildfire from the extremity of his bow over stage, boxes, stalls, and galleries, lighting up in an instant all eyes with animation and pleasure.
In the scene of old Bartolo's discomfiture the melodies of the maestro are totally extinguished beneath the din of overturned tables and chairs, and cracking furniture; and the joyous exclamations of the entire assembly, unite with the jibes of the actors, and seem to pursue the poor old guardian with one overwhelming peal of derision.
But it is only in this one instance that representations come off in such a manner. On the contrary, the company exhibit habitually all the aristocratic nonchalance of larger capitals. Their business there is society. It is there that les affaires de cœur hold their Royal Exchange; and observation, conjecture, and speculation,—but usually without ill-nature,—sufficiently occupy those who are not actors in this general by-play. The youth of these climes do not put in practice the same arts of concealment and reserve as are adopted in colder cities; but each, unconscious of evil, makes for the box of his enamorata; or, if that is impossible, for the nearest vacant situation. Advise, therefore, any friend who may intend visiting Seville, not hastily to pay his visit of curiosity to the opera, but to wait, if possible, until offered a seat by some habituée in her box. This Senora may possibly not have any affaire of her own on hand; in fact the married ladies of course form an exception, if not in all cases, at least as far as regards such undisguised manifestations of preference:—in this case she will take delight in putting him au fait of all those that are going forward.
If in a conversable humour she will do more. Commencing with the nearest, or the most conspicuous of the performers in these mute dramas, she will relate to him the vicissitudes of the respective histories up to the time then present, and the probabilities which each case may suggest for the future. Thus your friend, instead of having sacrificed an entire evening to the dubious amusement of following the plot of a single opera, which may have been a bad one, or interpreted by bad actors, will return to rest with some score of plots and romances filling all the corners of his memory—all possessing the zest of reality and actuality, as he will have contemplated the heroes and heroines in their mortal shape, and clothed in indisputable capas and mantillas; besides, another advantage which these romances will possess over all the popular and standard novels—that of omitting the most insipid chapter of all, the one containing the dénouement.
There only remain two public buildings worthy of notice; but they are such as to rank among the most remarkable of Spain. The Lonja (Exchange) was erected during the reign of Philip the Second, in the year 1583, by Juan de Herrera. At this period the excesses committed in all parts of Spain by the architects, no longer restrained by rule of any sort, had brought about a salutary effect, after a sufficiently lengthened surfeit of extravagance. Herrera took the lead in the reaction, and followed the more correct models of art.
Among the authors of some of the most lamentable specimens of aberration of style scattered throughout Spain, are found several names high in rank among the painters of the best period. These artists, desirous of emulating some of the great masters of Italy, who had attained equal superiority in architecture, painting, and sculpture, risked their reputation in these different pursuits with greater confidence than just appreciation of their peculiar genius. At the head of them was Alonzo Cano, one of the most distinguished painters of the schools of Andalucia; and who has been called the Guido of Spain. He may certainly lay a more legitimate claim to that title than to that of the Michael Angelo of Spain, accorded to him by some of the less judicious of his admirers for no other reason than that of his combining the three above mentioned arts.
His paintings are characterized by a peculiar delicacy of manner, correct drawing, and exquisite finish. The sickly paleness of his flesh is sometimes unpleasing, and his personages are gainers by the addition of drapery, in the arrangement of which he approaches to the excellence of the best Italian schools. The life of this artist was varied by more adventure than usually falls to the lot of those of his profession. His talent as a painter had already become celebrated while he was still a monk, having taken the vows very early in life. He had been from the first an enemy to the subordination of the cloister, and at length a series of irregularities led to his expulsion from his monastery.
Alonzo was not, however, the original inventor of this eccentric style. A Roman architect, Francisco Borromini, the rival of Bernini, and of whom it was said, that he was the first of his time in elevation of genius, and the last in the employment of it,—is supposed to have first introduced it. Followers and imitators of these sprung up in great numbers, and Spain was speedily inundated with extravagancies: façades, moulded into more sinuosities than a labyrinth,—cornices, multiplying their angles like a saw, murderously amputated columns, and broken-backed pediments. Juan de Herrera was not, probably, possessed of more talent than the Roman; but of what he had he made a better use. His reputation was beginning to make rapid progress when he was selected, on the death of Juan Baptista de Toledo, to continue the Escorial. His task there was not the simple one of continuing the unfinished pile according to the plans already traced.
The religious fervor of Philip the Second was on the ascent, and during the progress of the building he had resolved to double the number of monks, for whom accommodation had been provided by the original plan. To meet this necessity, Herrera raised the buildings to double their intended elevation. His completion of this immense work, rendered more difficult than it would have been had the original design been his own, or even had that of his predecessor been persisted in (for various other modifications were commanded, especially with regard to the plan of the church,) fully established his fame; and the edifice would probably have gained, had Philip not, at the last moment, yielded to a new caprice, and called in another artist (the architect of the famous country-house of the Viso) to erect the great staircase.
The object of Herrera, traceable in all his works, was the re-establishment of antique art in all its purity. In cathedrals success was more difficult of attainment than in civil edifices; but the effort is easily discerned, striving against the difficulties inseparable from the system, which applies to the purposes of one creed the principles of art invented for ministering to other forms. His cathedral of Valladolid is an instance of this: the most unsuccessful portion of which (the tower) has fallen before the completion of the edifice. Should the works ever be continued, this would be a most fortunate circumstance, were it not that the future builders are sure to persist in the same course, and to disfigure the pile with another similar excrescence, in contempt of symmetry and rule.
The Lonja of Seville is a structure so perfect as to bid defiance to criticism. It might have been built by Vitruvius. The general plan is a quadrangle, enclosing a court surrounded by an arcade. There are two stories, ornamented externally by pilasters. The order is Tuscan, both above and below. The court, staircase, and various apartments, are decorated with a profusion of the rarest marbles. The whole is a specimen, almost unique, of chaste elegance and massive solidity. In this edifice, the resort of wealthy traders during the period of the colonial prosperity of Spain, are contained, among the archives, the original despatches of Columbus: and, it is also said, those of Cortez and Pizarro.
The Ayuntamiento, or Town Hall, is an edifice of another sort. It is of the plateresco epoch. But Seville, having been apparently preserved by especial favour from the introduction of specimens of bad taste; it is a building of extreme beauty. The façade is divided into two unequal parts. The smaller of the two is covered with sculpture, and contains an open porch or vestibule, decorated throughout with a profusion of ornament. I could not learn the name of the artist to whom these sculptures are attributed, but they are worthy of the chisel of John of Bologna. The other portion of the front is without ornament from the ground to the first story, along the whole extent of which runs a series of open arches supported by columns. These columns and arches are models of lightness and grace.
The Ayuntamiento is situated in the Plaza de San Francisco; from one extremity of which a street leads to the cathedral: at the other commences the principal street of Seville, called the Calle de la Sierpe. Here are all the best shops, and the principle cafés. It leads also to the post-office, to the opera, and to the Plaza del Duque, so called from its containing the house of the Duke of Medina Sidonia; but it possesses, likewise, two other ducal residences, besides others of almost equal pretension. These mansions are scarcely ever occupied by their proprietors. It is a small irregularly formed place, and its ducal habitations, whatever they may be internally, by no means improve its appearance.
A few streets further on is the Alameda. This is a place magnificent in extent, but possessing no architectural merit. Its principal ornament is an avenue of elms, of about half a mile in length, at the head of which are placed the two antique columns and statues of the temple of Hercules. At the further extremity, on the left, is the church of the Jesuits, closed since the revolution.
