Santiago de Compostela’s sacred sculptures
By Victor Mallet

FT
April 3 2010 01:55

The cathedral’s Portico of Glory, which boasts some of the
best-preserved sculpture of the Romanesque period

`In heaven,’ said Friedrich Nietzsche, `all the interesting people are
missing.’

No one knew this better than the death-obsessed sculptors of the
medieval era, who applied their imaginations and their chisels most
vividly to the horrors of hell. And nowhere is the phenomenon better
illustrated than in the triple-arched Portico of Glory on the west
side of Santiago de Compostela’s famous cathedral.

Frozen in stone around the right-hand arch, the wicked are punished in
perpetuity according to their sins. Twin snakes bite the breasts of a
lustful woman; a demon devours the hand of a thief; a monstrous lizard
eats a liar’s tongue; a glutton scoffs a pie but is eternally
prevented from swallowing it by what looks like the tentacle of a huge
Galician octopus (a local speciality, served almost raw and sprinkled
with paprika).

At first glance, the scaffolding that now hides the portico from the
thronging pilgrims and tourists below suggests this is the worst time
to visit north-west Spain if you want to see some of the world’s
finest and best-preserved sculptural ensemble of the Romanesque
period. In fact, the scaffolding – because it has been made accessible
to small groups of visitors – presents a unique opportunity to see the
medieval stonecarver’s art at close range.

It is often the fate of Romanesque sculpture enthusiasts to be
disappointed: you peer upwards at distant and weather-worn gargoyles,
beasts and saints and wish you had brought binoculars or a powerful
torch. Now, thanks to a six-year, 3m (£2.7m) cathedral conservation
project financed by Galicia’s Pedro Barrié de la Maza foundation, you
can don a hairnet and a white construction worker’s helmet, climb up
and stare into the eyes of Christ – or those of a multitude of
tormented 12th-century sinners – from only a couple of feet away.

At this range, even the angels are interesting. Some are carrying
children (representing the souls of the good) to heaven, just as the
devils are holding the wicked in their mouths by their heads and
carting them down to hell.

A certain Maestro Mateo, funded by a generous stipend in gold and
silver from King Ferdinand II of León, was the architect and sculptor
who from 1168 led a team of artists in portraying the Day of Judgment
– and indeed all the horrors and wonders of earth, heaven and hell –
in startling detail across the three arches and down the multiple
columns of the portico. An Armenian bishop who made a pilgrimage to
the cathedral in the 15th century reckoned the portico showed
`everything that has happened since the time of Adam and everything
that will happen until the end of time’.

Among the scores of remarkable carvings is one of a curly-haired,
cheerfully smiling Daniel the prophet – said to be the first smile of
Romanesque art. And framing the figure of Christ in the central arch
is a semicircle of the 24 elders of the Apocalypse, depicted in
naturalistic style as medieval musicians chatting to each other and
tuning up before a concert. Their instruments – harps, fiddles, a lute
of wood and stretched dog-skin and a two-man hurdy-gurdy, all typical
of minstrels and troubadours – have recently been faithfully copied in
local materials and used to make a CD of medieval music.

For modern admirers of ancient statuary – whether from classical
Greece or 12th-century Spain – it is easy to forget that for most of
their existence such sculptures were painted in gaudy colours that
might be deemed offensive to the modern taste for white marble and
weathered stone.

There is no room for doubt once you have climbed the metal staircase
to stand face to face with the apostles. The lips of Christ
Pantocrator, a figure like a bearded Buddha who leans out from the
archway the better to be seen by pilgrims below, are in faded pink,
the eyebrows and eyelashes of Saint James the Elder are delicately
sketched in black, and the robes of the prophets bear traces of blue,
red and gold.

As many as 13 layers have been discovered, reflecting centuries of
painting and retouching in tempera and oils. In 1992 conservators
uncovered half of a small face to reveal the original medieval
paintwork.

Concha Cirujano, technical director of the cathedral works programme,
sees her mission as one of analysis and conservation, not one of bold
recreation of medieval colours and shapes. So the restorers will
carefully remove the decades of accumulated dust heaped on the heads
and shoulders of both the blessed and the damned but they will not
offend 21st-century sensibilities with their paintbrushes. `I’m very
conservative. Restoring something makes me scared,’ says Cirujano, her
hard helmet inches from the sculptures she is working to protect. `We
don’t want anything to happen to the portico.’

As you head back down the scaffold’s stairs, you abandon the heavens
and return to the earthly pleasures of the floor. There, squashed at
the base of the portico’s supporting columns, are beasts and monsters:
bears, wolves, lions and a griffin feasting on a pig.

Maestro Mateo might reluctantly have agreed with Nietzsche about the
fascinating attractions of evil. But whether you favour angels or
demons, this exceptional chance to study the 800-year-old masterpieces
of Mateo and the other craftsmen of Santiago will leave you – like the
glutton with his pie – begging for more.

Victor Mallet is the FT’s Madrid bureau chief

Tours, for up to 10 people at a time, are free and last 50 minutes,
including 10 minutes on the scaffolding. Reservations at

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Progress of a pilgrim’s town

Santiago de Compostela’s fame as a place of pilgrimage made it one of
the first mass tourism destinations in Europe and earned it the
nickname `the Jerusalem of the west’. The medieval cathedral’s
elaborately baroque 18th-century façade is decorated with weeds and
moss watered by the abundant rains that sweep across the Atlantic to
fall on Galicia. A coating of orange lichen gives the cathedral’s
towers an unearthly golden hue in the evening light.

The annual pilgrimage to Santiago (Santiago is Saint James, the
apostle reputed to be buried here) continues to this day, although
nowadays agnostic hikers eager for a good Galician meal and the
dizzying sight of the mighty censer being swung in the church are
probably as numerous as devout Roman Catholics seeking God.

Religious fervour is redoubled in a `Jacobean holy year’, when Saint
James’s day, July 25, happens to fall on a Sunday. With 2010 being one
such year, and the next one not due until 2021, it is no surprise that
Pope Benedict XVI has announced he will visit Santiago de Compostela
in November. For the holy year there are concerts and festivals across
Galicia ( for listings).

Where to eat and stay

The most famous hotel in Santiago – in the best possible position next
to the cathedral on the magnificent Plaza do Obradoiro – is the Hostal
de los Reyes Católicos, which opened in 1499 for pilgrims finishing
the Camino de Santiago. It is now part of Spain’s network of paradors
(). Prices (including breakfast) range from 275 (£245)
for a double standard room, with luxury suites at 628 per night.

The tiny lanes of Santiago’s historic quarter are filled with bars and
restaurants. They include Don Gaiferos, close to the cathedral and
popular with locals and tourists alike; mains 6-27 (23 Rua Nova). A
little further away, O Dezaseis is renowned for its octopus; daily
menus from 20 (Rua San Pedro 16, ).

The local sweet speciality (and good to take home, pre-packed in
lovely boxes) is Torta de Santiago, a delicious moist almond pie
dusted with the cross of St James on top.

Additional research by Matthew Kilgour