All one could do was to hire one of the open carriages and drive lazily about: a luxury obtained at a trifling cost. But vehicles and drivers hardly seemed to share in the general prosperity; both appeared equally shabby, worn-out and antediluvian. Their horses looked no less forlorn.

In the afternoons the Rambla was crowded with people, strolling to and fro under the shadow of the trees. All the town seemed to close ledgers, lock up counting-houses, and turn to the very innocent pleasure of taking the air.

Ladies appeared with mantillas and fans; the younger women here as in Madrid using a distinct language of fan and eye. Large, softly flashing eyes, full of expression for the most part. H. C.'s susceptible heart had no chance of repose. His dreams were feverish and disturbed by night; his leisure moments by day devoted to love-sonnets. These lovely ladies in their first youth are certainly very captivating and poetical; and a slight touch of the voluptuous, _dolce far niente_ element is a distinct characteristic of their subtle grace and charm.

In the afternoons, if the Rambla gained a charm it also lost one. The flower-stalls disappeared with their picturesque and pretty flower-sellers. Empty s.p.a.ces remained, looking forlorn and neglected.

Great ma.s.ses of blossom that delighted the eye and scented the early morning were no more. Here the red and white camellias flourish in the open air, but are by no means given away, as they were almost given away in Valencia. Barcelona has its price for flowers as for everything else.

All this, the reader will say, belongs to the modern element. The splendid outlines of Gerona; the old-world houses, with their ancient ironwork and Gothic windows; the Anselmos, Rosalies, Delormais' of Barcelona--where were they?

Conspicuous by their absence. With the exception of a few narrow tortuous streets, Barcelona is essentially modern. Even these picturesque thoroughfares are distinguished by discomfort, a shabby air, and little beauty of outline. In the Rambla you might almost fancy yourself on a Paris boulevard. Barcelona has increased so rapidly that all the new part, including the rich suburb of Gracia--its West-End--is twice as large as the old. All its great buildings are modern; and modern, though specially bright and engaging, is the scene of its port and harbour.

Yet with few vestiges of age, Barcelona has an historical past. In both a religious and military sense, she has played her part in the annals of Spain. More than one doc.u.ment in the archives of Samancas holds records to her honour and glory.

Her days are said to go back to four centuries before Rome, and tradition credits Hercules with her foundation. Two hundred years later, under the Romans, it became a city, and about the year 400 A.D. began to prosper. Tarragona was the capital when the Moors destroyed it, and Barcelona, wise in its generation, yielded to the conquerors and succeeded as chief town. In the ninth century it was ruled by a Christian chief of its own under the t.i.tle of Count of Barcelona, merged later on into that of King of Aragon.

But it was in the Middle Ages that Barcelona was great, and these Middle Ages have left their mark on her ecclesiastical history. Powerful, she used her power well; rich, she spent wisely.

[Ill.u.s.tration: INTERIOR OF CORO, GERONA CATHEDRAL.]

At that time, she divided with Italy the commerce of the East, practically the commerce of the world. She was the terror of the Mediterranean. Trade was her sheet-anchor. The Castilians held trade in contempt, and suffered in consequence; Barcelona, proud of her commerce, flourished. Her name was great in Europe. The city became famous for wealth and learning, a rendezvous of kings, the resort of fashion, voluptuous in its tastes. Ferdinand and Isabella especially loved it, though self-indulgence played little part in their lives. Here in 1493 they received Columbus after his famous voyage of discovery.

Yet this very connection with Castile led to the decline of Barcelona.

In her policy she has never been consistent, otherwise than consistently selfish. Now and then, to keep up her prestige, she has claimed the aid of a foreign power, only to throw it off when her turn was served.

Diplomacy, but not grat.i.tude, has been her strong point--and sometimes she has overreached herself.

Nevertheless, as we have said, there are pa.s.sages in her history of which she may be proud. She behaved bravely, but suffered, at the time Marlborough was gaining his victories elsewhere, when she had to fight Spain and France single-handed--for Barcelona, it will be remembered, formed part of an independent kingdom. Louis XIV. sent Berwick with 40,000 men to the rescue of Philip V., and an English fleet under Wishart blockaded them. Against this formidable array, Barcelona acted with courage, but the foe was strong. She fell; was sacked, burnt, and lost her privileges. In the War of Succession, in 1795, her almost impregnable fort was taken by Lord Peterborough--one of the great captures of modern times. But she arose again and kept her prosperity until Napoleon obtained possession of her by treachery in 1808, when Duhesme, entering with 11,000 men as a pretended ally, took the Citadel.

Napoleon looked upon Barcelona as the key of Spain, and considered it practically impregnable.

Of the beauty of her site there can be only one opinion, but she is, and always has been, very Republican. That her people are noisy, turbulent, riotous, they have clearly shown of late years. In any revolt she would be ready to take the lead. Should the kingly power ever fall in Spain, Barcelona will be amongst the first to hoist the red flag. Though no longer the terror of the Mediterranean, she seems to have regained more than her former prosperity, and on a safer basis than of old. In 1868 one of the last vestiges of antiquity--the town walls--disappeared to make way for the modern element.

But if the streets of Barcelona are modern, and to some extent uninteresting, the same cannot be said of her churches. She is rich in ecclesiastical treasures. Catalonia has a style of architecture as marked as it is pre-eminently her own. If her churches are less magnificent and extensive than those of other countries, in some points they are more beautiful.

We have referred to one of these points--the extreme width of the interiors. This, however, is not a feature in Barcelona, though in both height and breadth it is splendidly proportioned. In effect, tone and feeling, we place this cathedral before all others whether in Spain or elsewhere. Beauty and refinement, the repose of a dim religious light, softness and perfection of colouring, these merits cannot be surpa.s.sed.

Crowded with detail, it is so admirably designed that perfect harmony exists. Every succeeding hour spent within its walls seems to bring to light some new and unexpected feature. Day after day admiration increases, and wonder and surprise; and many visits are needed before its infinite beauties can be appreciated.

From the moment of entering you are charmed beyond all words. Here is a building no human mind could plan or human hands have raised. Never other building suggested this. However great the admiration--from St.

Peter's at Rome, largest in the world, to Westminster Abbey, one of the most exquisite--nothing seems beyond man's power to accomplish.

Barcelona alone strikes one as a dream-vision enchanted into shape and substance, possessing something of the supernatural, and is full of a sense of mystery. A faint light softens all outlines; half-concealed recesses meet the eye on every hand; mysterious depths lurk in the galleries over the side chapels. Sight gradually penetrates the darkness only to discover some new and beautiful work. Not very large, it is so perfectly proportioned that the effect is of infinitely greater s.p.a.ce.

Not a detail would one alter or single outline modify.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PULPIT AND STALLS, BARCELONA CATHEDRAL.]

Some of its coloured windows are amongst the loveliest and richest in the world. Rainbow shafts fall across pillars and arches. We are in Eden and this is its sacred fane. The whole building is an inspiration.

It is cruciform, and stands on the site of an ancient Pagan temple.

This, in 1058, gave place to the first Christian church, very little of which now remains. Converted into a mosque, it ceased to be Christian during the reign of that wonderful people, the Moors--wonderful throughout their long career, and falling at last, like Rome, by a fatal luxury. The more one sees their traces and remains, the more their strength is confirmed. Their influence upon Spain was inestimable. In all they did a certain religious element is apparent, not an element of barbaric worship, but of cultivation and reverence. Strange they should have hated the Christians, failing to realise an influence that was gradually changing the face of the earth.

In Spain their history runs side by side with that of the Christians, yet they were so divided that nothing done by the one was right in the sight of the other. So each kept its school jealously separate, to our endless gain. The very name of Moorish architecture quickens the pulse, conjuring visions that appeal to all one's imagination and sense of beauty. Intellectually they were more advanced. The rough and warlike Christians had not the nervous development of the Moors, who were learned in the arts and sciences; possessed the traditions of centuries; had ruled the fortunes of the world. Christianity had to triumph in the end; but for long the Moors were powerful and supreme.

Barcelona Cathedral was commenced at the end of the thirteenth century, in the year 1298, and carried on through a great part of the fourteenth.

It seems to have been the work of Jayme Fabre, who was summoned over from Palma de Mallorca by the King of Aragon and the reigning bishop, and designed and for many years superintended the work. To him is due the chief credit of this world's wonder, to Mallorca the honour of producing him.

Nearly the whole merit lies in the interior, and the exterior is of little value. Its poor and modern west front opens to a square, but the remainder is so surrounded by buildings and houses that it is difficult to see any part of it. The octagonal steeples are plain below the belfry; but the upper stages, pierced and beautiful, are finished off by pierced parapets. Some of the windows are richly moulded. The small flying b.u.t.tresses are not effective. The east end is the best part, with its Gothic windows and fine tracery, though otherwise severely simple.

Here the upper part of the b.u.t.tresses have been destroyed, and the walls ending without roof or parapet give it a half-ruinous appearance.

The interior has an aisle and chapels around the apse, following the French rather than the Spanish school. The details, however, are entirely Catalonian. The arches are narrow, but extremely beautiful. The capitals of the fluted pillars are small, delicate, and refined, and the groining of the roof is carried up in exquisite lines. Beyond the main arches is a small arcaded triforium, and above this a circular window to each bay.

The dark stone is rich, solemn and magnificent in effect. Owing to the clever placing of the windows and the prevalence of stained gla.s.s, a semi-obscurity for ever reigns: not so great as that of Gerona, but so far dim and religious that only when the sun is full on the south windows can many of the details be seen.

The Coro, forming part of the plan of the building, is less aggressive than in many of the Spanish cathedrals. The stalls are of great delicacy and refinement; the Bishop's throne, which has been compared to that of Winchester, is large and magnificent, taking its proper position at the east end of the choir. The pulpit at the north corner, and the staircase leading to it, are marvels of exquisite wood-carving and rare old ironwork. The canopies are delicately wrought, and the _misereres_ ornamented with fine foliage. Upwards, the eye is arrested by the beauty of the surrounding fluted pillars, on which rest the main arches of the nave. These cut and intersect the pointed arches of the deep galleries beyond, placed above the side chapels, of which there are an immense number. Turn which way you will, it is nothing but a long view of receding aisles, arches, and columns free or partly hidden by some lovely pillar; windows of the deepest, richest colours ever seen; mysterious recesses where daylight never penetrates; a subdued tone of infinite refinement; a solemn repose and sense of unbroken harmony.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TWILIGHT IN BARCELONA CATHEDRAL]

A little to the right the eye rests on the great organ, filling up one of the deep dark galleries. Its immense swinging shutters are open, exposing silvery pipes. The organist is at his post, but only for recreation, for it is not the hour of service. Soft, sweet music breathes and vibrates through the aisles, dies away in dim recesses, floats out of existence in the high vaulting of the roof; but the sense of repose is never disturbed. Sitting in a quiet corner of the stalls, amidst all this beauty of tone and outline, one feels in Paradise.

But the charm of charms lies in the octagonal lantern at the west end, and here Barcelona stands unrivalled.

This crowning glory is of extreme richness yet delicacy of detail.

Looking upwards and catching all the infinite combinations of arches and angles--the bold piers resting on square outlines--the marvellous cuttings and intersectings--the purity yet simplicity of design--the dim religious light in which all is so mysteriously veiled--the few beams of light cunningly admitted at the extreme summit--observing this, one is lost in silent wonder. It seems almost as difficult to penetrate into the beauty and mystery of this lantern as into heaven itself. And we ask ourselves again and again if the world contains a more exquisite dream-building than this.

Well do we remember the first time we saw this lantern and its imposing accompaniment.

A state council was being held in the church. Immediately beneath it sat the clergy; Bishop, Dean, and Canons in gorgeous vestments. One carried a Cardinal's hat, whose thin inscrutable face reminded us a little of Antonelli, that man of influence and mystery, whom none understood, and whose greatest schemes and ambitions were not destined to succeed. Many were dressed in purple and fine linen; not a few looked as though they fared sumptuously. Their actions were grave and solemn. Something weighty and momentous as the election of a new pope or the founding of a new religion, might have been under discussion. In reality, it was the choice of a new canon. One or two possessed refined, intellectual faces, but the greater number were not born to be leaders of men. The gravity of the occasion, perfect outlines of the building, splendour of the vestments, all the pomp and ceremony with which, at last, they broke up the a.s.sembly; the veneration paid to the old Bishop and he of the crimson hat; the solemn procession filing down the aisle and through the cloisters to the Bishop's palace--this remains in the memory as an impressively splendid picture. Fifteen years have gone by since that day, but we see it as vividly before us as though it had been but yesterday.

CHAPTER XIV.

IN THE CLOISTERS OF SAN PABLO.

In the cloisters--Sacred geese--Bishop's palace--House of the Inquisition--Striking quadrangles--_Ajimez_ windows--A rare cloister--Desecration--Library--Rare MSS.--Polite librarian--Romantic atmosphere--Santa Maria del Mar--Cloisters of Santa Anna--Sister of Mercy--San Pablo del Campo--More dream cloisters--Communing with ghosts and shadows--Spring and winter--Constant visitor--Centenarian--Chief architect--Cathedrals of Catalonia--Barbarous town-council--Hard fight and victory--Failing vision--Emblems of death--Laid aside--Wholesome lessons--Placing the keystone--Finis--_Resurgam_--Charmed hour--Possessing the soul in patience--City of Refuge.

Every succeeding visit to Barcelona has confirmed our love and reverence for its cathedral. Toledo, Burgos and all the greater cathedrals pale before the charm of its rare beauty and refined splendour.

It could only be that such a cathedral had corresponding cloisters, and pa.s.sing through the south doorway, we accordingly found ourselves in another old-world dream; but with the blue sky for canopy, and with no mysterious recesses or hidden depths.

Exception has been taken to the detail of the cloisters, but as a whole they are amongst the most effective in existence. Gothic arches, large and beautiful, rested upon fluted pillars whose capitals very much resemble those of the interior; an enchanted land and an architectural revelation. The garden was full of orange trees and flowers not too carefully tended, so that a certain wild beauty, all the contrast of the green with the ancient stone and wonderful outlines, charmed the vision.

Plashing fountains caught the sunbeams and threw rainbow drops into the air.

In a corner of the enclosure behind the iron railings some sacred geese intruded upon the sanct.i.ty of the precincts. The piety of these ungainly birds had to be taken for granted. They were aggressive, and hissed if only one ventured to look at them. Nothing could be more strangely out of place in a scene so beautiful and full of repose, and for which with all their sacredness they evidently had no veneration. Life pa.s.sed lazily; they grew monstrously fat, and we wondered if at a certain age they disappeared for the benefit of the Bishop's table: other geese taking their place in the cloistered garden. No one could tell us anything about them, but the people seemed to think them indispensable to the welfare of the town.

Here we found the best view of the exterior. Through lovely and graceful arches which framed in the picture, one caught the pointed windows of the nave with their rich tracery, above which rose the decorated belfries with pierced parapets.

But the immediate surroundings were also exceptionally interesting.

South of the cloister is the Bishop's palace, with a quadrangle ornamented with some fine Romanesque arcading and moulding. North, is an immense fifteenth-century barrack built for a palace, and given over to the Secret Inquisition by the Catholic monarchs. The Casa Consistorial and Casa de la Disputacion, though much altered, retain splendid traces of fourteenth-century work. The quadrangles are striking, though one has been much spoilt; and the _ajimez_ windows with their slender columns, capitals and arches are full of grace.