CHAPTER XXI.
THE SPANISH ARCHITECTS OF THE MIDDLE AGES.
THE history of the architects of the middle ages has never been written, and so few are the facts which we really know about them, that it may well be doubted whether it ever can be. Yet were it possible to do so, few subjects would be more interesting. To me it always seems that the most precious property of all good art is its human and personal character. I have always had an especial pleasure in tracing out what appear to be such similarities between different buildings as seem to prove, or at least to suggest, that they were designed by the same artist; for, just as in painting, a work becomes far more precious if we know it to be really the handiwork of a Giotto or a Simone Memmi, so in the sister art a building is far more precious when we know it to be the work of an Elias of Dereham, an Alan of Walsingham, or an Eudes de Montreuil; and if we are able, as in their case to start with the knowledge that certain men did certain works, the interest of such investigations is at once manyfold enhanced.
This is precisely the point at which we have now arrived in regard to Spanish buildings; for the notices of their architects which I have given in various parts of this book are so numerous that I think I shall do well to collect them together in their order; and to sum up, as much as one can learn from the documents relating to them, as to the terms on which they carried on their work, and generally, indeed, as to the position which they held.
In the earliest period, and just when any information would have been more than usually interesting to us, I have been able to learn next to nothing of any real value as to the superintendents of Spanish buildings.
One of the first notices of an architect is that contained in an inscription in San Isidoro, Leon, to the memory of Petrus de Deo, of whom it was said, “Erat vir miræ abstinentiæ, et multis florebat miraculis;” and, what is even more to our purpose, he is said to have built a bridge. He “superædificavit” the church of San Isidoro, and, from the reference to his saintly life, one is inclined to suspect that he must have been a priest and probably a monk; if so, it is important to note the fact, inasmuch as almost all the other architects or masters of the works referred to in all books I have examined, seem to have been laymen, and just as much a distinct class as architects at the present day are. The expression “superædificavit” does not tell us much as to the exact office of Petrus de Deo; but the next notice of an architect is not only one of the earliest, but also one of the most curious; this is in the contract entered into by the Chapter of Lugo with their architect Raymundo of Monforte de Lemos, in A.D. 1129; and from the terms of his payment, which was to be either in money or in kind, it is clear that, whatever his position was, he could not leave Lugo, but was retained solely for the work there. The terms of the contract are very worthy of notice, and may be compared with some of the similar agreements with, the superintendents of English works, who frequently stipulated for a cloak of office and other payments in kind, though I doubt whether we know of any English contract of so early a date. It is clear from the payment of an annual salary, and an engagement for the term of his life, that Maestro Raymundo was distinctly an architect, not a mere builder or contractor; it seems that he was a layman, and that his son followed the same profession. The title given him in the contract, “Master of the works,” is, as we shall find, that which in course of time was usually given to the architect; though I am not inclined to think that it makes it impossible that he should also have wrought with his own hands. Indeed, the very next notice of an architect is of one who certainly did act as sculptor on his own works. This was Mattheus, master of the works at Santiago Cathedral. The warrant issued by the king Ferdinand II., in A.D. 1168, granted him a pension of a hundred maravedis annually for the rest of his life,[433] and, though the amount seems to be insignificant, the fact of any royal grant being made proves, I think, not only the king’s sense of the value of a fine church, but also somewhat as to the degree of importance which its designer may have attained to, when he was recognized at all by the king. On the other hand, when twenty years later the same man (no doubt) wrote his name exultingly on the lintels of the church doorway, which was only then at last finished,[434] there can be no doubt that he had been acting there both as sculptor and architect: and if, from a modern point of view, he lost caste as an architect, he no doubt gained it as an artist; and even now, if one had to make the choice, one would far rather have been able honestly to put up one’s name as the author of those doorways, than as the builder of the church to which they are attached. It will be noticed that here, just as at Lugo, the master of the works was appointed at a salary for his lifetime, and held his office precisely in the same way as do the surveyors of our own cathedrals at the present day.
Much about the same time, in A.D. 1175, a most interesting document was drawn out, binding one Raymundo, a “Lambardo,”[435] to execute certain works in the cathedral at Urgel, in Cataluña. It is very difficult to say whether this Raymundo was the architect and builder, or only the builder, of the church, though I incline to believe he was both. He was to complete his work in seven years, employing four “Lambardos,” and, if necessary, “Cementarios,” or wallers, in addition; and in return he was to be paid with a Canon’s portion for the rest of his life. The mode of payment, the engagement for life, and the fact that there is no mention whatever of any materials to be provided by Raymundo, as well as the absence from the contract of any reference to a master of the works, lead, I think, to the conclusion that he was in truth the architect, but that he also superintended the execution of the works, and contracted for the labour.[436]
The next notice I find of an architect is in A.D. 1203, when the architect of Lérida Cathedral, one Pedro de Cumba, is described as “Magister et fabricator,” and there can be no doubt, therefore, that he not only designed but executed the work, which, as we go on, we shall find to have been a not very uncommon custom; but it is rare, nevertheless, to see this title of “Fabricator” given to the architect, who is usually “Magister operis,” and no more;[437] as, indeed, we see in the case of the successor of Pedro de Cumba, one Pedro de Peñafreyta, who is described on his monument by this title only.
In the thirteenth century we have the names of several architects, but nothing more than their names; and the only point which seems worthy of special note is that, so far as I can learn, none of them were ecclesiastics; whilst, from first to last, I have found no reference to anything like freemasonry. Indeed, on both these points, the history of Spanish architects seems to be singularly conclusive; and there can be little doubt that they carried on their work entirely as a business, and always under very distinct and formal engagements as to the way in which it was to be done.
In the fourteenth century the earliest notice is that contained in an order of the king, in 1303, dated at Perpiñan, and directed to his lieutenant in Mallorca, requiring him to go at once “cum Magistro Poncio” to Minorca, to arrange about the building a town wall, which the king wishes to have built with round towers, “sicut in muro Perpiniani;” and two years later the king writes again, “Item audivimus turrim nostram Majoricarum, ubi stat angelus ictu fulgens fuisse percussam et aliquantulum deformatam. Volumus quod celeriter sicut magister Poncius et alii viderint faciendum celeriter restauretur.”[438] Here it is, to say the least, doubtful whether Master Ponce was architect and adviser only, or also the mason who was to do the work. But this could not have been the case with the two architects of Narbonne, employed in the rebuilding of the cathedral at Gerona, one of whom was appointed in A.D. 1320-22 at a salary of two hundred and fifty sueldos a quarter, and under agreement to come from Narbonne six times a year. Here, whilst the old plan of making the architect enter into a kind of contract is adhered to, we seem to have a distinct recognition of a class of men who were not workmen, but really and only superintendents of buildings—in fact, architects in the modern sense of the word. About the same time, Jayme Fabre (or Fabra), a Mallorcan, seems to have been one of the greatest architects of his day, and to have given a very important impulse to the principal provincial development of architecture of which we see any evidence in Spain—that of Cataluña. From a contract entered into in A.D. 1318, between him and the Superior and brethren of the convent of San Domingo at Palma, in Mallorca, it seems that he was bound by an older agreement to execute the works of their church; and that he then promised to come back whenever required to Palma, from Barcelona, whither he was going to undertake another work at the desire of the king and the bishop. This “other work” was the cathedral, and here we know that Fabre was employed till A.D. 1339, when he and the workmen[439] of the church put the covering on the shrine which contained the relics of Sta. Eulalia, in the crypt. It is impossible to read the account of the completion of the shrine of Sta. Eulalia at Barcelona, without feeling that Fabre superintended a number of masons, and acted in fact as their foreman, though this is no reason whatever why he should not also have designed the work they executed. He seems to have carried on the two works at Barcelona and Palma at the same time; for, on the 23rd June, A.D. 1317, a year only after his agreement with the convent of San Domingo at Palma, he was appointed master of the works of Barcelona Cathedral, with a salary of eighteen sueldos each week, and payment of his expenses on his voyages to and from Mallorca. Soon after this time, in A.D. 1368, the fabric rolls of the cathedral at Palma, in Mallorca, record the name of Jayme Mates, who was “Maestro Mayor” of the work at Palma, and had a salary of twenty pounds a year, besides six sueldos a day for the working days, and two for festivals.[440]
In the same year we have the very interesting contract between the Chapter of San Feliu, Gerona, and Pedro Zacoma, the master of the works of the steeple; by this, it seems, he did not contract for the work, but had permission to employ an apprentice on it, and he was not to undertake any other work without the consent of the “Operarius,” or Canon in charge of the works, save a bridge on which he was already engaged. He was to be paid by the day, with a yearly salary in addition. I have given the contract at p. 332 of this volume. Zacoma is called in it the “Master of the work of the belfry.” He must have been employed constantly at the church, or it would not have been necessary to prevent his undertaking other works; and in such a building a man could hardly have been constantly employed, without absolutely working as a mason.
It may be thought that the “Operarius” was the real architect; but I find, at this time, that most collegiate and cathedral churches had a Canon whose special duty it was to make arrangements with the master of the works. Sometimes they are called “Canonigos fabriqueros,” at others “Obreros,” or else, as in this case, “Operarii.” Some examples of the application of these terms may be given to prove what I say:—In A.D. 1312, for instance, the Chapter of Gerona appointed two of their own body—one an archdeacon, the other a Canon—to be the obreros of their works.[441] In A.D. 1340 the “Operarius” was gathering alms in Valencia and the Balearic Isles for the works at Gerona Cathedral.[442] In an inscription of A.D. 1183, at S. Trophime at Arles, Poncius Rebolli is called “Sacerdos et operarius;” at Palencia, in A.D. 1321, there was an “Obrero,” or Canon in charge of the works, as he is described by Dávila.[443] In the inscription on a stone in the choir of Lérida Cathedral,[444] the two offices of the “operarius” and the “magister et fabricator” are contrasted, and the double office of the latter seems to make it impossible that the former can have been the architect. The fabric rolls of Exeter Cathedral contain, in A.D. 1318, a payment to the “Custos operis” for the adornment of the high altar: and, no doubt, he held the same post as the Operarius in Spain.
At the end of this century Juan Garcia de Laguardia was named “Master-mason” of the kingdom of Navarre, by a royal writ, at the wage of three sueldos a day. His title adds another to those already mentioned.
In A.D. 1391 Guillermo Çolivella undertook to make twelve statues of the apostles, at Lérida, at the price of 240 sueldos for each statue; and subsequently, in A.D. 1392, he is styled “Magister operis” of the see of Lérida, and “Lapicida,” and he had the superintendence of the stained glass windows which Juan de San Amat was making for the apses of the church, with the stories of the apostles.[445] He was evidently, I think, a builder, and yet held very much the office of a modern architect as superintendent of the whole work. Jayme Fabre describes himself as “Lapicida,” but was also the “Master of the fabric” at Barcelona; whilst Roque, who succeeded Fabre at Barcelona, was also called master of the works only, and received three sueldos and four dineros a day, besides a hundred sueldos a year for clothing.
Just about this period we have what appears to me to be a rather important reference to the separate offices of the architect and builder in the same work; for it seems that during the construction of the tower of the cathedral at Valencia, one Juan Franck acted as architect, with a succession of men as builders and contractors under him.[446] I confess I do not adduce this example with much confidence, inasmuch as one of them was Balaguer, whose mission to Lérida has already been mentioned, and who is moreover termed, in a contemporary document, an “accomplished architect.”
In the fifteenth century the notices of architects are more numerous, and their position becomes much more clearly defined.
In A.D. 1410 a contract was entered into by one Lucas Bernaldo de Quintana—master mason, as he is called in it—for the rebuilding of the church at Gijon in the Asturias. In this contract[447] there is no reference of any kind to plans, or to a directing architect or superintendent of any kind; but the dimensions and form of the building are all carefully described in such a way as to lead to the conclusion that the notary who drew up the contract had some sort of plan before him. It is said, for instance, “that the church is to be twenty-five yards long by twelve and a half wide, with three columns on each side, three vaults each with three ribs crossing them, and all the arches, pilasters, &c., as well as the door (which is to be twelve and a half feet high by eight wide), to be of wrought stone. There is to be a turret for two bells over the door, &c.” “Item, the ‘master’ is to be allowed to use the materials of the old church.” The contract was entered into on March 10, 1410, and the key of the building was to be delivered up on the 1st of May, 1411, and finally two sureties were bound with the contractor. The whole deed is so very formal and careful in its terms, that there can be no doubt that Quintana acted as architect as well as builder, for otherwise the name of the architect would necessarily have been mentioned.
It was in A.D. 1415 that the Valencian authorities sent their architect on a tour of inspection among church steeples in Cataluña, and as far as Narbonne, on the other side of the Pyrenees, in order that they might be sure of a good design for their own; but this is a very rare, if not an unique, instance of such a proceeding. In the year following the Junta of Architects was assembled at Gerona, and we have in it the first example of that habit so common in this day, of consulting bodies of men, instead of trusting in one skilled man, which from this time forth seems to have been extraordinarily popular in Spain. Incidentally, the records of the proceedings of this Junta are valuable, as giving the names of many architects and the works on which they were then engaged; but they are still more valuable as showing how decided and independent of each other in their opinions these men were. All of them probably were architects; but it is observable that all but two call themselves “Lapicidæ;” that two of them held somewhat inferior offices—one being the “Socius” of the magister operis, and the other, “Regens,” in the place of the master. Another is “Magister sive sculptor imaginum;” and two only—Antonino Antigoni and Guillermo Sagrera—call themselves masters of the works. Their answers seem to prove that they were all men of considerable intelligence, but at the same time generally disposed, just as a similar body would be now, to declare rather for the usual than the novel course. It is to their credit that they all maintained the perfect practicability of the work proposed, and the judgment of the Chapter seems to have been as much influenced by economical considerations as by artistic, seeing that a majority of the architects decided against the proposed plan on artistic grounds, whilst some of them said that it would certainly be the least costly. It was intended at first that two of the architects consulted should be asked to prepare a plan for the work; but this does not seem to have been done after all, the plan of the master of the works at the cathedral having been agreed to and carried into execution.
There cannot be a shadow of doubt that at the beginning of the fifteenth century most of the superintendents of buildings, in Cataluña at any rate, were sculptors or masons also. Their own description of themselves is conclusive on this point; at the same time their answers are all given in the tone and style of architects, and it is quite certain that, had there been a superior class of men—architects only in the modern sense of the word—the Dean and Chapter would have applied first of all to them. The answers which these men gave ought to be carefully read, as they are valuable from several points of view. Several of them seem to speak of some recognized system of proportioning the height of a building to its width; one of them suggests using light stone for the vaulting; and another, Arnaldo de Valleras, was evidently anxious to supplant the existing master of the works, and announced what he would do if the works were intrusted to him. I cannot help thinking that they had before them the plans of Guillermo de Boffiy, and that the similarity of the suggestions made by some of them as to the position of the windows and the proportions of the work are to be taken as an evidence of their desire to affirm what he had proposed.
In the same year in which this Junta of architects assembled at Gerona, one of their number—Guillermo Sagrera—was acting as the architect of the church of S. John, Perpiñan, a building which is still remarkable for the enormous width of its nave. Ten years later he contracted for the execution of the Exchange at Palma, in Mallorca, according to plans which he presented, and upon certain specified conditions, from which it appears very clearly that Sagrera was both builder and architect, being bound to find scaffolding and all materials. The only difference one can see between Sagrera and an ordinary builder or contractor of the present day is, that he presented the plans himself, and that there is no trace whatever of any architect or superintendent over him. It is doubted by some whether this mixture of the two offices of builder and architect was ever allowed in the middle ages; but this agreement (of which I give a translation in the Appendix) is conclusive as regards this particular case, and we may be tolerably sure that such a practice must have been a usual one, or it would hardly have been adopted in the case of so important a building.
Sagrera seems to have remained a long time at Palma, but having quarrelled with his employers there, and his dispute having been carried before the King of Aragon, at Naples, for settlement, the completion of the work was intrusted to one Guillermo Vilasolar, “lapicida et magister fabricæ,” who bound himself on March 19th, A.D. 1451, to complete the works which had been commenced. Two of the clauses in this agreement are worth quoting; they are as follow:—
1st. “That I, the said Guillermo Vilasolar, am bound to execute within the next coming year all the traceries and terminations or cornices which I have to make in the six windows of the said Exchange of Felanix stone, in the following form:—The traceries of two of the said windows according to the design which I have delivered to you, and the traceries and the cornices of the remaining four windows just as they were commenced by Master Guillermo Sagrera, formerly master of the fabric of the said Exchange; which traceries and cornices of all the said six windows I am bound to make entirely at my own cost, with all necessary scaffolding, stone, lime, gravel, and wages for the complete finishing of the said traceries and cornices.
“Item.—That for making all the said traceries and cornices as described, in the said six windows, you, the said honourable guardians, shall be bound to give and pay of the goods of the college to me, the said Guillermo Vilasolar, two hundred and eighty pounds of Mallorcan money in the following way, viz.: fifty pounds down, and the remainder of the said two hundred and eighty pounds when the said traceries and cornices to the said six windows shall have been executed.”
So that here again, just as in the case of Guillermo Sagrera, we have a mason contracting for his work, and himself making the drawing according to which it is to be done.
After his quarrel with the authorities at Palma, Sagrera seems to have undertaken work for the King in the Castel Nuevo at Naples, for which he used stone from Mallorca, and where he was styled “Proto-Magister Castri Novi.” His work at Palma seems, from the accounts I have been able to obtain, to have much resembled that of the Lonja at Valencia, which I have described and illustrated in this volume.
In A.D. 1485, when Calahorra cathedral was rebuilt, an architect seems to have been so formally appointed, that the words used appear to me to be quite worth transcribing here: “Miércoles á ocho dias del mes de junio, año á nativitate Domini, millessimo quatorcentessimo octuagessimo quinto cœpit ædificari Capella mayor S. Mariæ de Calahorra. Composuerunt primum lapidem Johannes Ximenes de Enciso decanus, et Petrus Ximenes archidiaconus de Verberiego, et ego Rodericus Martini Vaco de Enciso, canonicus ejusdem ecclesiæ, et artium et theologiæ magister, dedi duplam unam auri in auro, dicens hæc verba magistro Johanni ædificatori principali prædictæ capellæ; accipite in signum vestri laboris, et en protestationem, quod Dominus Deus ad cujus gloriam et honorem ecclesia et capella ista fundari incipit, implebit residuum ad preces gloriosæ Virginis Mariæ matris suæ, et Sanctorum martirum Hemeterij et Caledonij, in quorum honore fundata est ecclesia. In quorum testimonium supradicta manu propria subscripsi. Rodericus artium et theologiæ magister.”
It is remarkable that in the case of so important a city as Seville there is no mention of an architect to the cathedral before A.D. 1462, in which year Juan Norman was appointed, with Pedro de Toledo as assistant (“aparejador”) till A.D. 1472, when the Chapter appointed three “Maestros Mayores” or principal masters, to the end that the work might go on faster: but it seems, as might be expected, that these men were none of them architects, for in A.D. 1496 the archbishop, being at Guadalajara, was persuaded that it was not well to trust such ill-informed persons, as their employment would end in loss to the fabric, and so he called in one Maestro Jimon, who went to Seville and was made Maestro Mayor until A.D. 1502.
The works at the Parral, Segovia, A.D. 1472-94, afford another example of an architect acting also as contractor for the work; and about the same time a monk of this convent, Juan de Escobedo, superintended the repair of the aqueduct, and was afterwards sent to the Queen (Isabella) to report to her on the state of various buildings in Segovia.
In 1482 Pedro Compte, of Valencia, said to be “Molt sabut en l’art de la pedra,” was the architect of the Exchange at Valencia—a building evidently copied to some extent from Sagrera’s Exchange at Palma; and at a later date he was employed upon some water-works for the keeping up the waters in the Guadalaviar at Valencia. He held the post of Maestro Mayor of the city, with an annual salary. In him we seem to have not only an architect and engineer, but one of so much character and influence as to hold important posts, being “alcaide perpetuo” as well as Maestro Mayor of the city.
In the beginning of the sixteenth century the new cathedral at Salamanca was commenced, but only after a vast amount of consultation among architects. The king had to order Anton Egas of Toledo, and Alfonso Rodriguez of Seville, to go to Salamanca and decide upon the plan for the church, and these two men drew up a joint plan which they presented to the Chapter; two or three years later, nothing having been done in the mean time, a Junta of nine architects was assembled, who jointly agreed on a very elaborate report, detailing all the parts and proportions of the church; and their report having been presented, the Chapter forthwith proceeded to elect a master of the works.[448] Rodrigo Gil de Hontañon was appointed; and by his will, dated in May, A.D. 1577, it appears that he had a house rent-free, as well as his salary of 30,000 maravedis a year.[449] He had also liberty to undertake other works; for, a few years later, he designed the cathedral at Segovia, and by his will it seems that he had several other churches in hand, in some of which it is evident that he acted as contractor, as he complains bitterly of the difficulties he had been put to by the large sums he had paid for the work at the church of San Julian at Toro, without being repaid by the authorities. It is remarkable that the works at Salamanca were examined from time to time by two architects, who reported whether Hontañon was following the instructions laid down for his guidance by the Junta, and this supervision rather leads to the inference that the design was not made by Hontañon, but prepared for him; and that it was necessary, as it is nowadays, to employ some one to see that he executed his work properly. The curiously exact terms of the report of the Junta, which specifies the height, thickness, and proportions of all the walls in the church, could not have been adopted as they are unless the Junta had some plans before them when they drew up their report, and on the whole I think it probable that the plan which Egas and Rodriguez prepared formed the basis on which they proceeded. This plan is still said to be preserved in the archives, and it would be very interesting to see how far it agrees with the church which has been erected.[450]
But, on the other hand, there is a report upon the state of the works in A.D. 1523, given by Cean Bermudez, which tends to confirm Hontañon’s position as a real architect.[451] It is signed by three architects, Juan de Rasinas, Henrique de Egas, and Vasco de la Zarza. They go into the question of the height to which the vaults ought to be carried, they say the walls are built properly, and, finally, that they were shown a plan of Juan Gil de Hontañon’s for some alteration of the work, and that in their opinion it is good, and they have, therefore, signed it with their names.
There are other instances at this time of the assemblage of Juntas of architects, of which one or two may properly be mentioned here; one of these was in reference to the Cimborio of the cathedral at Zaragoza which fell in A.D. 1520, when a number of architects were at once called together to advise as to its reconstruction; and again, in the same way, when the Cimborio at Seville fell, in A.D. 1511, several architects were consulted, and after they had reported, one of them—Hontañon, the fashionable architect of the day—was selected to manage the execution of the work.[452]
At this late date we have, I believe for the first time, the singular description of a man as “master maker of churches.” This occurs in the contract entered into by Benedicto Oger, of Alió, for the erection of a church at Reus. From the terms of the contract Oger seems to have been a mason: he was to have three others with him, and was bound not to undertake any other work. And if the authorities desired it they were to have his work examined by another “master,” though whether by one of his own grade, or a superior man, does not appear.
Another contract of a somewhat similar kind was entered into in A.D. 1518 by Domingo Urteaga for the erection of the church of Sta. Maria de Cocentaina, in Valencia. He bound himself to go with his wife and family to Cocentaina, where the town was to give him a house rent free. He was to do all that a “master” ought in the management of such a work, without attending to other works, and was to receive each day for himself five sueldos, and was to provide two assistants and two apprentices, the former to have three sueldos each, and the latter one and a half. He was to be every day at the work, having half an hour for breakfast, and an hour for dinner in winter, and an hour and a half in summer. Here again, though Urteaga was evidently only a foreman of the works, there is no reference to any superintendent or architect, and nothing is said about any plans which are to be followed. I conclude, therefore, that in this case too the foreman of the masons was really the architect.
In addition to the men I have here rapidly mentioned, there were many others whose work was confined to the design and execution of certain portions of buildings; such a one was Berengario Portell, “lapicida” of Gerona, who in A.D. 1325 entered into a contract for the execution of the columns of the cloister of Vique cathedral, and who is commonly said to have executed the columns and capitals for the cloister at Ripoll also. Such, in later days, was Gil de Siloe, who both designed and executed the monuments at Miraflores; and such, though in a less eminent position, were the various woodcarvers, decorators, painters on glass, makers of metal screens, and the like, the names of a great number of whom are still preserved in the volumes of Cean Bermudez.[453]
There is also another officer who ought not to be forgotten here—the “aparejador” or assistant of the architect—clerk of the works as we should call him. About his office there is no doubt, but it will have been observed that some men who held it—as e.g. Juan Campero—have at other times acted as architects or contractors, which is precisely what might be expected.
There are a few but not very important cases of competition among artists recorded in the work of Cean Bermudez; but generally they seem to me to have been rather competitions for the execution of work than for its design. Such, for instance, was the competition for the execution of the monument of D. Alvaro de Luna and his wife in Toledo cathedral, when the design of Pablo Ortiz was selected.[454] Cristóbal Andino is said to have competed unsuccessfully with other men, in A.D. 1540, for the execution of the iron screens of Toledo cathedral. Cean Bermudez speaks also of a competition among architects as to the rebuilding of Segovia cathedral;[455] but I doubt whether his statement can be depended on.
The result at which we arrive after this résumé of the practice of Spanish architects is certainly that it was utterly unlike the practice of our own day. Whether it was either better or worse I can hardly venture to say; it seems to me, indeed, to be of comparatively little importance whether an architect is paid as of old by the year, or as now by a commission on the cost of the works; probably the difference in amount is seldom serious; but on the other hand it is possible that where special contracts are made the sums paid are not always the same, and so the absurd rule by which at present the best and the worst architect both get the same amount of pay for their work is avoided; one result of this rule is, that the architect of the highest reputation, in order to reap the pecuniary reward to which he is entitled, is tempted to undertake so much work that it is impossible for him to attend to half of it, and so in time, unless he have an extraordinary capacity for rapid work, his work deteriorates, and his reputation is likely to suffer.
The other old custom common in Spain—of architects contracting for the execution of their own works—does not seem to deserve much respect; yet one cannot but see that it was a natural result of the universal feeling and taste for art which seems to have obtained in the middle ages; and though it would now certainly be mere madness to ask any chance builder to execute an architectural work, there are undoubtedly many builders who are at least as well fitted to do so as are a large number of those who, without study or proper education, are nevertheless able, unchallenged by any one, to call themselves architects.
On the whole, then, it is vain to regret the passing away of a system which is foreign to the nature and ideas of an artistic profession such as that of the architects of England now; though if these old men, whose art and whose interests pulled opposite ways—seeing they were architects and contractors—did their work so honestly that it still stands unharmed by time, we may well take great shame to ourselves if the rules for our personal respectability, about which we are all so jealous, are yet in practice so often compatible, apparently, with a system of shams and makeshifts, of false construction and bad execution, of which these old architect-builders were almost wholly guiltless.
The questions between ourselves and them, when simply stated, are these—Whose work is best in itself, and whose work will last the longest? If these questions cannot be answered in our favour, then it is absurd to protest vigorously against the practice which we see pursued by such men as Juan Campero, Martin Llobet, Juan de Ruesga, Guillermo Sagrera, or Pedro de Cumba, and we shall do well to admit, whenever necessary, that he is the best architect who designs the best building, whatever his education; though it is undoubtedly true that he is most likely to be the best architect who is the best taught, the most refined, and the most regularly educated in his art.
It is often, and generally thoughtlessly, assumed, that most of the churches of the middle ages were designed by monks or clerical architects. So far as Spain is concerned, the result at which we arrive is quite hostile to this assumption, for in all the names of architects that I have noticed there are but one or two who were clerics. The abbat who in the eighth or ninth century rebuilt Leon cathedral is one; Frater Bernardus of Tarragona, in A.D. 1256, another; and the monk of El Parral, who restored the Roman aqueduct at Segovia, is the third; and the occurrence of these three exceptions to the otherwise general rule, proves clearly, I think, that in Spain the distinct position of the architect was understood and accepted a good deal earlier than it was, perhaps, in England. In our own country it is indeed commonly asserted that the bishops and abbats were themselves the architects of the great churches built under their rule. Gundulph, Flambard, Walsingham, and Wykeham, have all been so described, but I suspect upon insufficient evidence; and those who have devoted the most study and time to the subject seem to be the least disposed to allow the truth of the claim made for them. The contrary evidence which I am able to adduce from Spain certainly serves to confirm these doubts. I was myself strongly disposed once to regard the attempt to deprive us of our great clerical architects as a little sacrilegious; but I am bound to say that I have now changed my mind, and believe that the attempt was only too well warranted by the facts. In short, the common belief in a race of clerical architects and in ubiquitous bodies of freemasons, seems to me to be altogether erroneous. The more careful the inquiry is that we make into the customs of the architects of the middle ages, the more clear does it appear that neither of these classes had any general existence; and in Spain, so far as I have examined, I have met with not a single trace of either. I am glad that it is so; for in these days of doubt and perplexity as to what is true in art, it is at least a comfort to find that one may go on heartily with one’s work, with the honest conviction that the position one occupies may be, if one chooses to make it so, as nearly as possible the same as that occupied by the artists of the middle ages. So that, as it was open to them—often with small means and in spite of many difficulties—to achieve very great works of lasting architectural merit, the time may come when, if we do our work with equal zeal, equal artistic feeling, and equal honesty, our own names will be added to the list, which already includes theirs, of artists who have earned the respect and affection of all those whose everyday life is blessed with the sight of the true and beautiful works which in age after age they have left behind them as enduring monuments of their artistic skill.
APPENDIX.
(A.)
CATALOGUE OF DATED EXAMPLES OF SPANISH BUILDINGS, FROM THE TENTH TO THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY INCLUSIVE.
NOTE.—The dates of those Examples which are printed in Italics appear to me to be very uncertain, or are those of buildings which I have not visited.
(B.)
CATALOGUE OF ARCHITECTS, SCULPTORS, AND BUILDERS OF THE CHURCHES, ETC., MENTIONED IN THIS VOLUME.