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 The noblest handiwork bequeathed to Cataluña by the conquerors of the
world is, however, the Aqueduct, which may be compared favourably as
regards preservation and solidity with the more famous work of the same
kind at Segovia. Where it spans a valley it is composed of two series of
arches, eleven below and twenty-five above, and rising to a height of 217
metres. The stone of which it is built was Obtained from the caves of Monte
Loreto, where the quarries may still be seen.
Then there is Centcellas, on the banks of the little river Francoli,
supposed to be on the site of the villa where Hadrian lodged. Part of the old
Thermæ remains—a stone chamber square without and circular within;
while another building seems to incorporate the ruins of an early Christian
structure, including a mosaic of the Ravenna type.
 POBLET
About thirty-four miles from Tarragona, near the station of La Espluga,
stands the ancient fane of Poblet, the Escorial of Aragon. It bears (according
to tradition) the name of a hermit who in the first part of the twelfth century
was three times captured by the Saracens and as often was miraculously
released, whereupon the paynim king, recognising that he had to do with a
man protected by heaven, endowed him with all the lands hereabouts, to be
enjoyed by him and his brother hermits. In proof of this story, the religious
triumphantly pointed to a venerable-looking parchment inscribed with
Arabic characters, which they said and believed was the original deed of
gift, and as no one could read it no one was able to throw doubt on the
story. In 1496 a Moorish prince examined the document and contented
himself with observing that it was not dated in the twelfth century but in the
year 1217. However, no one paid any attention to this assertion, and the
legend was repeated till on the dismantling of the monastery in the last
century the document at last came under the critical eye of Don Pascual de
Gayangos, who confirmed the Moor’s correction and pronounced the so-
called deed simply a general permit to the monks to pass through and travel
freely in the Moorish dominions south of the Ebro.
The foundation of the abbey may now be ascribed with safety to Count
Ramon Berenguer IV., who, having conquered the territory of Lerida,
bestowed the lands of Poblet on the Cistercians of Fontfroide near
Narbonne, who, to the number of twelve, took possession of the site in the
year 1150, Don Esteban being abbot. The monastery soon rose fair and
strong, and prospered exceedingly under the favour of the Kings of Aragon,
who made of it their official place of sepulture. The wealth of the
community was enormous, the power of the abbot extended over fifty-six
villages, but from all this prosperity resulted a falling away from monastic
simplicity, till the holy men would not sit down to table unless two
partridges were placed on their dishes. In the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries, they could find no better employment for their wealth than in
loading their beautiful abbey with the atrocious sculpture and ornament of
the period; and then in 1835 came the anti-clericals and swept out the
monks and their baroque rubbish with them. What the mob spared, the
collectors and villagers annexed—precious manuscripts, vestments,
statuary, all were carted away; and ruinous and forlorn, as it now stands,
Poblet would have rejoiced the heart of the author of the stern Cistercian
rule.
It is a vast and embattled pile that greets the eyes of the traveller,
encircled by a crenellated wall which is pierced by a richly sculptured gate
built in 1460 and so richly gilded a hundred years later as to merit the name
of the Puerta Dorada. Enclosed by these outer fortifications is another line
of wall twice as high as the first, which, together with its twelve towers,
was built in the fourteenth century. To the right of the entrance and still in
the outer ward we have the little church of San Jorge, built by Alfonso V. in
honour of the patron saint of Aragon in 1541, and the chapel of Santa
Catalina, believed to have formed part of the primitive building. In the outer
ward may also be distinguished the remains of numerous other buildings,
such as the Abbot’s house, the Hospice, and the Bridewell, reserved for
female offenders against the Abbot’s jurisdiction.
The inner ward is reached through a gatehouse of the Edwardine type,
flanked by heavily machicolated drum-towers, and decorated with the
escutcheons of Aragon and Castile. We approach the church, founded by
Ramon Berenguer, but substantially the work of his son and successor. The
ugly Græco-Roman façade marks the ancient west front, which is
approached across an atrium called the Galilee. The church is in the form of
an elongated Latin cross. The simplicity of the architecture—its absolute
freedom from ornament—illustrated the early Cistercian ideals. The aisles
are of seven bays, and the chapels are confined to the south aisle and apse.
There were once seventeen altars in the church, of which only four were
kept up by the monastery, the rest being at the charge of individuals and
corporations. All these, including the high altar, have been stripped of their
ornamentations and accessories, and of the once magnificent choir only a
fragment of the screen remains. Piferrer, who saw the monastery in its
prime, gives a detailed account of it, and enumerated the tombs it contained.
He speaks of the imposing entrance to the royal mausoleum, between the
chancel and the choir. On the Epistle side lay Don Alfonso of Barcelona (II.
of Aragon), opposite him was the sarcophagus of James the Conqueror, near
him lay Pedro the Ceremonious. In addition to these monarchs Juan I.,
Martin, Fernando I., Alfonso V. and Juan II. of Aragon were buried here,
with eight queens, thirty-six infantes and nine infantas. Here lies Carlos
Prince of Viana, the illustrious scion of the house of Navarre; here were the
last resting-places of Aurembiax, Countess of Urgel and the last princess of
her house; here lay the proud Cardonas and the noble knights and ladies of
the Moncada and Anglesola lines. Nearly all the tombs that had not already
been despoiled of their carving and marbles have been removed to
Tarragona. Of those remaining, the best preserved is that of the Infanta
Juana, with its figures relieved against thick blue glass.
The north side of the church abuts on the great cloister, dating in its
greater part from the thirteenth century. The windows on the south side are
round-headed, those on the other three sides pointed, with good traceries.
Through a round-headed arch we enter the chapter-house, divided into three
aisles by four pillars, so slender as in no way to interrupt the view of the
whole. The groining springs so gracefully from the capitals that the pillars
themselves have the appearance of shooting up and bending like the
branches of a tree. Then there is the library which once contained 10,145
volumes, including 385 valuable codices, and 250 MSS. in various styles of
handwriting—forming a complete museum of calligraphy. This library is a
noble chamber divided by four columns. Its walls were once hung with the
portraits of the Kings of Aragon and their great nobles. Reminiscent of the
brave days of old is the charming façade of the palace built by good King
Martin and intended by him to be a retreat in his old age. He died before its
completion and the work was abandoned.
You may still traverse miles of cloister and hall at Poblet strewn with
broken tablets, overgrown with shrubs and climbing plants. One of the most
beautiful of the galleries is the Novices’ Dormitory, roofed in with timber;
then there are the locutorium, the only spot where conversation was
permitted between the recluses; the infirmary and the beautiful cloister of
San Fernando, built in 1415 by order of the first king of that name, the little
chapel of the saint, founded by the Count of Barcelona, and the royal
apartments, built in 1375.
 SANTA CREUS
Santa Creus is the sister foundation of Poblet from which it is distant
about five leagues. It was also founded by Ramon Berenguer IV. and
belonged to the Cistercian Order. Not so large as Poblet, this abbey of the
Holy Crosses is equally severe and chaste, and of the two, is distinguished
more by its artistic harmony. The church is one of the most finished works
of the age and style. Its front is discovered immediately on entering the
monastery, raised on a terrace above the long and spacious court round
which are grouped the conventual buildings. The battlements above the
façade are a recent and incongruous addition. The west porch is finely
moulded and chiselled, and with the rich foliage of the capitals creates a
good impression. Another door, symmetrical and elegant, leads into a
cloister on the south side of the church and was at one time flanked by the
statues of Don Jaime II. and his wife Blanca. The wall on this side bears an
inscription to Bernard Ranc, which is assumed to be the name of the
architect. The church was begun in the year 1174, and opened to public
worship in 1211. It preserves its altar, on which the light falls through a
rose-window in the apse. The principal objects of interest in the interior are
the noble tomb of Don Pedro the Great (who defeated the French and bound
Sicily to the throne of Aragon) and of Jaime II., who conquered Sardinia
and harried the Moors of Granada. King Pedro’s tomb consists of a great
porphyry urn supported by lions, which is believed to have been taken from
the infidels; and on this rests the stone coffin carved with figures in high
relief under pinnacled canopies. The tomb is covered by a beautiful stone
baldachin, with three traceried circles on each side upheld by slender
columns with elaborately carved capitals. The tomb of Don Jaime is on the
same plan, but is further adorned by the effigies of the king and queen in the
Cistercian habit, placed here, it seems likely, long after the completion of
the rest of the work. The tomb was designed by Bertran Riquer, the
architect of the royal palace of Barcelona.
The church communicates with a spacious cloister with four sides of
seven bays, built at the beginning of the fourteenth century by order of
Queen Blanca. The traceries of the windows remaining here and there are
late Gothic, and contrast oddly with the severe lines and rude capitals of the
shafts. As at Poblet, in a corner of the cloister is a hexagonal chamber said
to have been a lavatory. A great number of persons of distinction seem to
have been buried in this cloister, in attendance, one might say, upon their
lords within the church. Among these was the knight Queralt, who may
been seen in effigy in a suit of fine mail, with surcoat and greaves and girt
with two-handed sword. Some of the figures of divine persons to be seen
over the tombs were evidently carved by late fourteenth-century sculptors.
Here, as at Poblet, the Kings of Aragon had their habitations in life as in
death, and the courts of the ruined palaces of Don Pedro and Don Jaime still
bear some traces of the glory and culture of the greatest maritime power of
the Mediterranean of a bygone age.
 VALLBONA
Vallbona, the third great royal abbey of Cataluña, is situated in the
province of Lerida, but on the borders of Tarragona, in a singularly wild and
remote district. Like Poblet, it is named after a hermit who in the year 1157
founded here and at Colobres, monasteries for both sexes. Twenty years
later, both houses were formed into a single community of Cistercian nuns,
under the headship of Doña Oria de Ramiro. The pious Anglesola of
Vallbona is buried before the high altar in the company of James the
Conqueror. The church is gloomy, silent and severe. It is entered through a
Romanesque porch in the north transept, the west front presenting an
unbroken wall. Vallbona has also a noble cloister, with a fine gallery in the
Pointed style; on the north and the remaining galleries in the Romanesque.
In Piferrer’s time, pictures and monuments relieved the excessive severity
of the royal nunnery of Aragon, but now there reigns a desolation and
poverty which might have affrighted even the hermit founder.
 MONTSERRAT
Montserrat, easily accessible from Barcelona, is one of the four or
five renowned shrines of Christendom. The legend of its institution is one
of the quaintest and at the same time silliest in the annals of hagiology. In
the time, it seems, of Count Wilfred, the Henry of Barcelona, there dwelt on
the mountain a hermit named Guarin whose sanctity was famed even to the
ends of the earth. Church bells rang of their own accord when he passed,
and the forces of nature were at his beck and call. This being so, when
Richildis, the Count’s daughter (she was beautiful, of course), became
possessed of a devil, Guarin was at once called in to turn him out. Such a
task was a mere matter of an Ave and an invocation on the part of the holy
man; but the devil thus incontinently expelled from the person of Richildis
appears to have passed into the body of the hermit. He conceived an
unlawful passion for the maiden, who remained with him after her cure, to
learn the arts of sanctity. He succumbed to temptation and consummated his
crime by murdering the girl, cutting off her head and burying her in his
cave.
Stricken with remorse immediately after, the erstwhile holy man hurried
to Rome and confessed his crime. The Pope ordered him to return to
Montserrat on his hands and knees and never to resume an erect posture till
his pardon should be miraculously announced.
So faithfully did Guarin carry out the penance imposed that he crawled
for seven years about the mountain that he had once illumined with his
sanctity, living on grubs and roots and becoming to all intents and purposes
a wild animal. One day Count Wilfred, while out hunting, noticed this
strange beast and had him taken to his stables at Barcelona. There Guarin
abode some months, saying never a word but pleasing his captors by his
docility. One day he was led into the castle to amuse the Count and his
Court. But before he could perform any tricks, the infant son of the Count, a
baby but three months old, cried out, “Arise Guarin, for God has pardoned
you.” Whereupon the strange beast rose up on his hind legs, praising God,
and confessing his enormous crimes.
 In these days men were very much alive, and thrilled to the passions of
love and hate. But, touched by the miracle, the Count forgave the murderer
of his daughter, and set out with him for Montserrat to disinter the body
buried seven years before. But lo, when the fair form was revealed, it
throbbed with life, and a red line only showed where her head had been
severed from her neck.
Richildis was so grateful for her restoration to life that she determined to
devote the rest of it to the service of God. The Count founded a monastery
for both sexes, of which his daughter was abbess and Guarin became a
humble lay-brother.
A mere fairy tale, yet it is full of what was best in the mediæval spirit—
the conviction that no misfortune was irreparable, no crime unredeemable,
no sinner unreclaimable, that for all men and all things there was indeed
mercy and plentiful redemption.
Upon the invasion of the Arabs in 976 the nuns abandoned their convent,
but the monastery remained and was recognised as a regular community
about the time of Fernando and Isabel.
It is not, of course, to pray before the shrine of Guarin that pilgrims
climb the ragged sides of the saw-edged mountain. Long before the hermit
immortalised his name by his crime and his repentance, a miraculous image
of the Virgin, said to have been carved by St. Luke, and brought to Spain by
St. Peter, had been hidden, to save it from the infidels, in one of the caverns.
Nearly two hundred years after, its whereabouts was revealed to some
shepherds by lights and mysterious melodies. These manifestations were
repeated every Saturday—that being the day of the week specially
consecrated to the Virgin by the Church. The Bishop came over to
investigate the phenomenon, and on entering the cave whence the sounds
proceeded, they found the heavy image carved by St. Luke. So heavy was it
that it resisted all efforts to remove it; so there it remained till the end of the
sixteenth century, when it was found possible to enshrine it in the present
church.
Most of those who have seen the image are not favourably impressed, so
it is worth while to quote another opinion than the present writer’s. “I
cannot conceive [writes Mr. Herbert Vivian] that any one who has been
privileged to behold it can deny the imposing majesty of its expression. It
inspires awe rather than the sympathy and compassion which we are
accustomed to associate with Our Blessed Lady. Indeed, those who change
its vestments on holy days, say that it fills them with fear, that they do not
dare to look it in the face. In the Virgin’s right hand is a globe, from which
springs a fleur-de-lis. The crowns worn by her and the infant Christ are of
prodigious valve, being of pure gold and containing no fewer than 3500
precious stones, many of them of exceeding size and purity. Like everything
else at Montserrat, they are of modern origin, all the old valuables having
been carried off by French troopers in 1811. In front of the image are two
little staircases of walnut-wood by which those who wish to kiss its hand
may ascend and descend.”
As buildings, the church and monastery of Montserrat are wholly
destitute of interest. But they have their memories. Ignatius Loyola, during
the process of conversion, passed long hours at the feet of the Virgin of
Montserrat; Don John of Austria, before the altar of the Immaculate
Conception, swore to maintain the doctrine of the Virgin’s freedom from
original sin, against all and sundry, at the sword’s point, and the victory of
Lepanto was gained perhaps in fulfilment of that vow.
There is a monastic seminary on the mountain, also an extremely ancient
and aristocratic foundation. The boys have some curious customs. On the
feast of St. Nicholas, the patron of youth, they elect one of their number
Bishop, who entertains them all to dinner and heads the visits which they
pay to all the monks in turn.
But if as a shrine Montserrat has little to attract the curious, as a
mountain it is without rival for picturesque and strange grandeur. So
fantastic is the conformation that in all ages it has been regarded with a
certain superstitious awe. The caves with which it is honeycombed are full
of mystery and fascination. They extend and ramify in all directions,
constituting a veritable subterranean city. At all times they have served as
asylums to the natives of the surrounding country when threatened by
invaders. On one occasion the French discovered a party of peasants in such
a retreat and would have attacked them had not one of the Catalans told
them that a single explosion would bring all the surrounding rocks upon
their heads. Whether this was true or false the soldiers did not care to prove,
and they hastily withdrew.
There are plenty of people in Cataluña still who believe in the wonder-
working properties of the Virgin of Montserrat, and newly married couples
come up by the funicular railway to spend a night on the mountain, in the
hope of thereby assuring themselves of a numerous family.
We may trace the footprints of St. Ignatius to Manresa, a name dear to
the Jesuit in all lands, and borne by the Manchester of Cataluña. It is a
lively, picturesque town, built on an amphitheatre of hills on the left bank of
the Cardoner. High over the factories towers the Collegiate Church begun in
1328 and finished, probably, a hundred years later. It is one of those wide-
naved churches characteristic of the principality, its span of nave is, in fact,
greater than that of any cathedral with aisles, except Palma. An interesting
peculiarity is the flying buttresses built partly in and partly outside the
church. Over the first roof rises an impressive bell tower. The interior is
disappointing. The side chapels are Gothic. There is some good glass in the
clerestory windows, and the organ displays one of those Saracens’ heads we
so often find in Catalan churches. In the archives are some interesting
pictures by local artists, reminding one of Byzantine work, and there also is
preserved that altar frontal which excited the fervent admiration of Street.
In a vault beneath the presbytery are treasured the relics of St. Agnes and
St. Maurice, translated here from Vienne on the Rhône in the time of
Berenguer III.
The fine old church of the Carmen commemorated a miracle reputed to
have occurred in the year 1345. The town having been laid under an
interdict by the Bishop of Vich, the innocence of the townsfolk was
demonstrated by a light which penetrated through the windows of the
church, filling it with radiance. But these mediæval traditions are obscured
by the glory of St. Ignatius, whose name the citizens delight to honour. In
the church of Santo Domingo was formerly shown a black cross which the
saint used to bear on his shoulder while he prostrated himself before the
altars in turn. The church of the Cueva—an odius baroque work—is raised
over the cave wherein during ten months he underwent the dolorous process
of his spiritual regeneration. In the Jesuit College you may see one of his
fingers, his books, and the bricks that served him as a pillow. There is not a
spot nor a house in Manresa that the citizens will not fail to point out as in
some way, however slight, associated with the immortal founder of the
Society of Jesus.
Not far from Manresa is the flourishing town of Tarrassa, which
occupies the site of the old episcopal city of Egara. The primitive arx or
citadel gave place in Christian times to a cathedral which was destroyed by
Al Mansûr, and the site is now occupied by the three interesting
Romanesque churches of San Miguel, Santa Maria, and San Pedro.
The oldest of these is undoubtedly San Miguel, which is distinguished
from other Catalan churches by many peculiarities. The plan is rectangular,
over the centre of the roof rises a lantern, resting on a quadrangle of
columns. The capitals of these columns are evidently part of an older and
different structure. Beneath the church is a crypt which is believed to have
been the baptistery of the old Roman cathedral.
Santa Maria was consecrated in 1112 by Raimundo Guillen, Bishop of
Barcelona, and was served by Augustine canons down to 1592. It is
contemporary with the church of San Pedro and both present an aspect of
extreme antiquity accentuated by the Roman tablets and fragments
incorporated with the structure. Close by are the ruins of a fortress and a
chapel attributed by tradition to the Templars. On the other side of the
prettily named Rio Vallparadis are to be seen the fragments of a tower and
castle.
About six miles from Manresa, on the banks of the Llobregat, is a little
monastery of San Benito de Bages, now a private residence. “All here,”
says Piferrer, “invites man to lift his eyes to God, and to banish the
frivolous recollections of this world. The building’s antiquity, the modesty
and simplicity of its plan alike contribute to still the voice of passions and
to excite more tranquil thoughts.”
The thoughts of the former occupants, however, were evidently not
always tranquil, for the little apses opening into the transepts have been
squared off, apparently for defensive reasons, and the tower looks as if it
had been constructed for the same object. The church is dark and sombre,
like a vault, and the cloister has the same funereal aspect, only slightly
relieved by the interesting carvings of courtiers and warriors on the rude
capitals.
Piferrer states that the chapel was built in the middle of the tenth century
and that it was consecrated in 972 in presence of Count Borrell and his
Court by the Bishop of Vich. In the year 1067 it was incorporated with the
Abbey of San Ponce de Tomeras near Narbonne; the foundation received
women, who were subject, like the monks, to the rule of St. Benedict. At the
end of the sixteenth century the community was united to that of
Montserrat.
 CARDONA
Cardona is a picturesque walled town on the road from Manresa to
Solsona. It is crowned by a strong castle built by the Cordona family, which
traces its descent from Foulques, the ancestor of the Plantagenets. Within
the castle is the collegiate church of San Vicente, dedicated in the eleventh
century. It is a fine example of the Romanesque. Its aisles are marked off
from the nave by square pillars; the nave is broad, the aisles narrow, without
chapels. A very low lantern rises above the crossing and the presbytery is
raised by a few steps above the level of the nave. There is not a single
moulding in the whole church, or any curve other than a semicircle. Of the
sepulchres of the mighty lords of the castle only two remain. Within this
fortress died St. Ramon Nonnat in the year 1240. The chapel dedicated to
his memory dates from 1682.
 TORTOSA
Tortosa, on the banks of the Ebro, close to its mouth, is the
southernmost of the cities of Cataluña. It is an ancient place where Roman
and Visigothic coins were struck. It fell into the hands of the Saracens in
716 and was reconquered in 1147 and consecrated in 1441. Among the
architects were the two Xulbes, whose opinion was taken on the question of
the nave at Gerona. Though disfigured by a classical façade the church
produces a good effect. Its aisles are separated from the nave by twenty
columns, which sweep round the east end in a graceful semicircle so as to
form a double apse. To the nine Gothic arches of the chancel correspond as
many apsidal chapels, whose windows overlook the high altar. The reredos
dates from 1351. There are five chapels in each of the aisles. The windows
are filled with transparent marble instead of glass.
The Collegio Real of Tortosa is in the best Plateresque style. The cloister
is formed by three tiers of galleries, the columns and balconies being
adorned with medallions and escutcheons. The original building belonged
till the year 1528 to the Dominicans and was then reconstructed by order of
Carlos I. with a view to serving as a seminary for Moorish converts. The
College is now a barracks.
The Convent of Santa Clara, dating from the thirteenth century and
restored by order of Jaime II. of Aragon, is another precious memorial of
Tortosa’s more prosperous days.
 THE BALEARIC ISLANDS
The Balearic archipelago no longer deserves the name of the Forgotten
Isles bestowed upon it a dozen years ago by a French traveller. Much has
since been written about the islands in our own and other languages, and
yachtsmen often put in at what the Genoese Admiral classed with June, July
and August, as one of the four best harbours in the Mediterranean. But the
influx of tourists has not been large, and the isles run no immediate risk of
losing their marked local characteristics. The remote past keeps a firm grip
on Mallorca and Menorca; as in Egypt, you never cease to feel dead stony
eyes are staring at you across thousand-year-long vistas. In the aisles the
monuments of antiquity belong to the very dawn of human history,
appearing almost the works of nature, even as those who reared them seem
hardly to have emerged into full manhood. At every turn, as in Sardinia, you
are met by the rude handiwork of that primitive Mediterranean race, which
passed away in the struggle between Latins, Greeks and Semites. Every one
knows now that the word Balearic is derived from a Greek word meaning to
throw, and that it refers to the extraordinary dexterity of the natives in the
use of the sling. This was their national weapon, their sole means of attack
and defence. In summer, as their only clothing, each man wore three slings
—one round his head, one round his loins, and one at his wrist. To train
their children in its use, the mothers, we are told, would not let them have
their bread or meat till they had brought it down from a bough or ledge by
means of the sling.
Of all their dexterity they had need when strange men with black curling
beards and dark stern faces—men that they had never seen—came sailing
into their harbours and tempted them down from their perches with a
display of bright rare stuffs and gewgaws. Poor simple white savages, it is
likely enough that they had thought themselves till then the only men in the
world. Then came the attempts of the Phœnicians to enslave and to subdue
them, and wildly the islanders fought for their freedom, knowing as little as
the creatures of the jungle do of the forces arrayed against them. The wild
birds were netted at last. In the sixth century before Christ, the
Carthaginians were masters of the archipelago, and dragged the slingers off
to serve in their armies. Mago, a Punic leader, gave his name to Puerto
Mahon. Then came a time when the natives felt the grasp of the Semites
relax. Their power had been crushed by the Romans and the islands enjoyed
a brief interval of liberty. But in the year 123 B.C., the conquerors of
Carthage remembered their neglected heritage, and sent Cecilius Metellas
to take possession. He founded the cities of Palma and Pollensa, which still
retain their Latin names, and brought with him some thousands of Italian
and Spanish colonists, who soon tamed the wildness of the aborigines.
Thence onward for centuries the archipelago prospered quietly, safe beneath
the outspread wings of the Roman eagle. Upon the break-up of the empire it
passed through various hands to the Visigoths, to be wrested from them in
the eighth century by the Arabs. Under this new dominion the islands
became a nest of pirates, who ultimately founded a kingdom embracing
parts of the Spanish mainland and of Sardinia. The depredations of the
Balearic Moors excited the anger of Christendom, and Pope Pascual II.
preached a crusade against them. Constituting themselves the ministers of
Europe’s vengeance, the Pisans and Catalans inflicted a severe punishment
on the Pirates and sacked the rich city of Palma. Over a hundred years later,
in 1227, Don Jaime I. of Aragon reduced the whole group of islands in a
memorable campaign, and annexed them finally to Christendom. The
conqueror constituted his new possessions into a kingdom for his second
son and namesake, from whose grandson, Jaime II., they were taken by
Pedro IV. in the year 1347 and incorporated with the kingdom of Aragon.
But history had not yet done with the islands. The old rancour between
the peasantry and the nobles came to a head at the beginning of the
sixteenth century, in the war of the Germania or brotherhood. The viceroy
took refuge in the Citadel of Ibiza, while the nobles defended themselves in
the castle of Alcadia against the desperate attacks of the peasantry led by
Juan Colom. The arrival of a royal squadron commanded by Don Juan de
Valesco led to the extinction of the revolt. Ruled by Carthaginians, Romans,
and Moors, the islands excited the cupidity of another race of conquerors.
Seized by the English in 1708, Menorca remained in their possession till
1781, when it was retaken by the French and Spaniards. The failure to
relieve the garrison cost Admiral Byng his life. We again took possession of
the island in 1793 to surrender it finally to Spain at the peace of Amiens
nine years later.
 Mallorca (it is as easy to call it by its proper name as by its variant
Majorca) is the largest and most beautiful of the islands. Towards the north
and south-west it presents an iron-bound wall of rock to the turbulent
waters of the Catalan seas; on the south the plain stretches to the shore, and
here we find the little harbour of Santa Ponza, at which the conqueror Jaime
I. disembarked his army on September 10, 1229.
Hard by is the estate of Ben Dinat, so named, it is averred, because the
conqueror expressed in those two words his satisfaction with a meal of
bread and garlic served him at this spot. It is more probable that the name is
that of some long-forgotten Moor. Then comes the little harbour and tower
of Portopi and round the next promontory the lovely bay of Palma, with the
capital of the Balearics smiling a welcome to the stranger. The walls that
once surrounded the city have been demolished: the turrets that rise above
the house-tops are those of the Cathedral and the Exchange (Lonja). We
enter the town through the Water Gate, a building not without majesty, and
crowned by a statue of the Blessed Virgin. The streets, as in most Spanish
towns, are narrow and shady, often rewarding the curiosity of the passer-by
with glimpses of Renaissance patios, graceful balconies, and turret
windows. Among the most interesting houses of the Butifarras (big
sausages), as the nobility of the island used to be called, are the Casa de
Vivot and the palace of the Counts of Montenegro. But Palma is a living
city, and side by side with these dignified memories of the past we find
handsome modern buildings such as the Bank of Spain and the Hall of
Provincial Deputation. Nor does Palma want for wide breathing-spaces and
promenades. It has the fine Paseo del Borne and the Boulevards constructed
round the bay and on the site of the old fortifications. Close to the landing-
stage the new-comer’s attention is first attracted by the Exchange or Lonja.
Charles V. on visiting the island for the first time hastened at once to see it,
eagerly demanding if it belonged to the Church or to the State, and was
visibly relieved on hearing that it was a civil edifice. The Lonja is a
quadrangular building, surmounted by a crenellated balustrade and flanked
at each angle with an octagonal tower of six stages, one of these rising
above the balustrade. The walls are strengthened with graceful pilasters, and
pierced in their lower story by ogival windows with good traceries. The
door is square and enclosed within an ogival arch. The interior forms a
single great hall, the roof of which is supported by only four slender fluted
columns, from which the arches spring like palm branches. This interesting
building was designed and begun by Antonio Sagrera in the year 1426. Like
the numerous other Spanish Lonjas, it has long been deserted by the
mercantile community.
The cathedral towers above the whole city and is one of the most
important churches in the kingdom. The name of the architect is unknown,
but the foundations were laid by order of Jaime the Conqueror soon after he
had annexed the island. The plan is rectangular, the walls supported by
massive flying buttresses, surmounted with pinnacles and turrets. The south
front is the finest and is pierced by the beautiful Puerta del Mirador, in
florid Gothic style, the work of Pedro Morey, who died in 1394. The west
porch is an elaborate work, finished in 1601. On the north side is the noble
square bell-tower.
The interior is remarkable for the enormous span of the nave, the widest
in Spain. It rises to a height of 147 feet and is sustained by relatively
slender columns. The nave terminates in the beautiful Capilla Real, founded
in 1282, wherein is the modest tomb of the last King of Mallorca. The
wooden gallery running round the wall is strongly suggestive of Saracenic
influence. Opening into this chapel are the Capillas de Santa Eulalia,
containing a Gothic altar and the tomb of a Bishop of Palma, and San
Mateo, in which ends one of the aisles. In the chapel of St. Jerome is the
fine tomb of the Marques de la Romana, who did such good service to
Spain by bringing from Denmark the Spanish troops in Napoleon’s service.
Another notable sepulchre is that of Bishop Gil Sancho Munoz, successor
elect to Pope Benedict XIII. (1447). The choir is in decadent Gothic style,
but the carving is very good and reveals imagination and fertility of
resource on the part of the artist. The statues of St. Bruno and St. John were
brought here from the chapter-house of Valledemosa. The old Moorish
palace of Almudaina, adjacent to the cathedral, is the residence of the
Captain-General and seat of the High Court. It is provided with a chapel
built by Jaime II.
The only other church worthy of mention at Palma is that of San
Francisco de Asis, remarkably like the cathedral for the span of its nave and
for the tomb of the famous Raymond Lull, Mallorca’s most illustrious son.
This famous philosopher was born in 1235 and is said to have been
converted from evil courses in his youth by finding that his mistress was
devoured by cancer—such reasons for a change of life being frequent in the
Middle Ages. He imagined himself called upon to overthrow the religion of
Mohammed not by the old methods, but by a “great art” of logic which he
devised. Like some liberal Catholics of later days, he held that the dogmas
of his Church could and should be demonstrated by reason, and not by mere
exhortations to believe. To combat Islam he rightly considered necessary
that missionaries should understand the language of their adversaries. His
exertions induced the Pope to found one or two chairs of Arabic and Syriac,
and his philosophy, strange to say, met with no censure from ecclesiastical
authorities. Lull was credited with immense and preternatural wisdom by
his generation, and was popularly believed to have discovered the
Philosopher’s Stone. He undertook several journeys to Northern Africa in
his zeal for souls, and on the last of these visits received such severe
injuries from a Moslem mob that he succumbed on board ship within sight
of his native isle (1315).
A picture of his funeral may be seen at the Town Hall, which is a rather
imposing Renaissance building adorned by one of those heavy projecting
eaves, carved and once painted, that one sees at Granada. Another house
that should be noticed is the Casa Bonapart, said to have been founded by
an ancestor of the Imperial family in 1411.
In the suburbs of Palma is the fine old castle of Bellver, founded by the
last King of Mallorca. It is composed of a vast keep, strengthened by
bastions and surrounded by a moat. Connected with this stronghold by a
bridge of two tiers is the massive Torre del Homenage. The castle has
received many distinguished and involuntary guests. Here was confined
Jovellanas, the able Minister of Carlos IV., and here was shot General Lacy
for conspiring against the tyrant Fernando VII. Arago the Astronomer took
refuge here, when the mob, suspecting that he was signalling to the French
when he was simply making observations, sought his life.
Seven miles from Palma is Raxa, the seat of the Conde de Montenegro,
who has an exceedingly valuable collection of antiquities. Here may be
seen a curious chart of the world, drawn in 1439, according to the
instructions of Amerigo Vespucci. It is partly obliterated by the ink spilt
over it when it was being spread out for examination by George Sand.
That gifted Frenchwoman slayed at the suppressed Carthusian monastery
of Valldemosa, and there she wrote the romance “Spiridion,” at which Mr.
Titmarsh poked his fun. It is a beautiful, decayed old place, once a royal
palace, and decorated with frescoes illustrating its history.
 We again come to the traces of Raymond Lull at Miramar, the beautiful
seat of the Archduke Ludwig Salvator, who kindly placed a hospice at the
disposal of travellers. This was originally the college established by the
philosopher for the study of Oriental tongues. The ill-fated Maximilian of
Mexico borrowed the name of his palace near Triente from this enchanting
spot.
In addition to the capital, Mallorca contains three or four towns of
importance, such as Manacor, Alcudia, and Pollensa, but these present few
features of interest. The scenery in the vale of Soller is radiant and smiling,
the soil being of amazing fertility, such as the Barranco and Gorch Blau, or
Blue Gorge. Between Pollensa and Soller in the heart of the hills is the
sanctuary of Our Lady of Lluch, the origin of which is accounted for by a
legend similar to that of Lourdes. To accommodate the pilgrims who
flocked to the spot, a hospice was built, which in course of time was
converted into a school of religious music. Here as at Miramar every
stranger can have three days’ free lodging, including fire, light, and the
indispensable oil and olives.
On the other side of the island are the caves of Anta, rivalling those of
Han and Adelsberg. “The most fantastic part of this subterranean region,”
says Mr. Vuillier, “goes by the significant name of L’Infierno. It is a
nightmare in stone. Tongues of petrified flame seem to lick the walls. An
enormous lion squats in one corner, staring at unhewn tombs overhung by
rigid cypresses. Strange forms of antediluvian monsters lurk half-seen in the
obscurity. Many of the stalactites when rapped sharply with a stick emit
musical notes, some like the vibration of a harp-string, others like the deep
resonance of a church bell. These are in an immense hall as vast as a
cathedral nave.... In silence and darkness, the forces of nature have for
centuries been hewing and shaping an architecture more sublime than ever
was conceived in the wildest dream of the Gothic craftsman.”
Menorca, the second largest of the islands, is bare and bleak and flat
round the coast, though at one point in the interior it rises to a height of
nearly 6000 feet. Here and there are picturesque spots, notably the Barranco
of Algendar; but speaking generally the island is the Holland of the
Mediterranean. Cleanliness, well-being, industry and good conduct are the
characteristics of the inhabitants, who live farther outside the world of
romance even than most Latin people. We flatter ourselves of course that
they learned their good qualities from our ancestors, when they ruled the
island, and certainly there are frequent reminders of our influence to be
traced in the daily life of Menorca. “Ashes to Ashes,” though seldom heard
now, was in Ford’s time an oath or exclamation often on the lips of the
natives, and children use English words when playing marbles, a game that
we taught them among other perhaps less useful arts. We sent to the island a
Governor Kasie, who made roads and built market-halls, and did all that a
worthy and unimaginative English gentleman might feel it is his duty to do
in such a position; but the natives do not sigh once more to be under our
dominion, as they are sometimes polite enough to tell English folk they do,
and a Spanish writer actually refers to our paternal government as the
Babylonish captivity.
Puerto Mahon was founded, as we have said, by the Carthaginians, and
was appropriately enough occupied by us, the Carthaginians of later days.
Its harbour is one of the best in the Mediterranean, and is very strongly
fortified. Except for the forts, the town contains no public monuments of
interest. The streets are very clean and rather quiet, and you remark the
absence of the running water in the gutters characteristic of so many
European towns. The streets are well paved, often with tombstones from the
English cemetery; the dustman goes his rounds as he does in London, and
many of the houses have English windows. The domestic life is held in high
honour at Mahon, and the chief occupation and delight of the women is
cleaning their houses. “It is an amusing spectacle” says M. Vuillier, “to see
them armed with brooms of dwarf palm and immense pails of lime-water,
gossiping along the walls from early morning, while they scrub and wash as
if their lives depended upon it, fastening their brooms to long poles the
better to reach the higher parts of the wall. Should a death occur in a house
the walls are not whitened for a week, a fortnight or even a month,
according to the closeness of the relationship or the degree of grief felt for
the deceased. In rare cases the walls are not touched for six months.” The
traveller comments on the absence of the tribe of unwelcome bedfellows, so
persistent in their attentions in other parts of Spain.
This does not sound very interesting. Mahon is not, however, wholly
devoid of the picturesque element. The old gate of Barbarossa is named
after that famous pirate, by whom the city was surprised and sacked in
1536, and the fortifications still bear traces of the siege of 1781. Ciudadela,
the old capital, at the opposite end of the island, is more suggestive of old
times and memories. The streets are quaint and arcaded, and lined with fine