The
monastery of Cartuja de Miraflores
was founded in 1442 by King Juan II of Castille and Leon when he donated his
hunting lodge and it’s surrounding lands (the name Miraflores was the name of the hunting lodge) to the Carthusian
Order. The buildings themselves however, are almost entirely due to the
patronage of his daughter Queen Isabella of Castille “La Católica”, (who we mentioned back at San Juan de Ortega, and who
was also responsible, with her husband Ferdinand, amongst other things for
funding Christopher Columbus’s exploratory trip west).
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Polychromatic sculpture of King Juan II at prayer
on Reredos
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Initially
started by the German architect Hans of Cologne and then continued by his son
Simon, the monastery was built in the late gothic style towards the end of
fifteenth century. Both these architects were also largely responsible for the
construction of Burgos Cathedral. The monastery church consists of a large,
high-vaulted single aisled hall and I found it reminiscent of the chapel of
King’s College, Cambridge, which is it’s slightly earlier contemporary.
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| Cartuja de Miraflores |
The
Carthusian Order (in Spanish Cartuja)
is named after the Chartreuse Mountains in the French Alps where St. Bruno of
Cologne established his first hermitage in 1084. In England, Carthusian
monasteries were known as Charterhouses and the interesting thing about a
Carthusian house compared with other types of monastery is that rather than the
monk living with other monks and sharing a communal dormitory, dining area and
garden, each Carthusian monk or hermit, who is a priest, has his own cell or
living quarters where he lives, works, studies and prays and a small garden
where he grows flowers and vegetables for exercise. The cells open onto a
corridor and usually, the monk will only leave his cell three times a day for
prayer services in the monastery chapel. The emphasis is on contemplation and
meditative prayer.
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| Entrance to Monastery |
I
had visited the ruined Carthusian monastery of Mount Grace in North Yorkshire,
England and I was interested to see one which hadn’t been touched by the
Reformation.
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| Close up of Pieta |
We
passed through the gateway into a modern glazed corridor equipped with a
reception desk and after giving a donation and getting our credencials stamped,
we entered the courtyard and admired the entrance to the monastery. A doorway
is framed with a Pietá in the gothic arch and above, on the left and right are
the coats of arms of King Juan II and the kingdom of Castille and Leon.
The
interior of the church is, according to the liturgical tradition of the
Carthusians, divided into several spaces. Going through the doorway, the atrium
had graceful vaulting and this led to what is called the Vestibule of the Faithful, beyond which a metal screen and gate led
the eye through to the Laybrother’s Choir.
Beyond that, a beautiful gilded Baroque doorway could be seen and the impressive
vaulting and internal height of the church appreciated for the first time.
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| View from Vestibule of the Faithful |
We
passed through the gilded doorway and entered what is called the Father’s Choir and here were confronted
with two extraordinary sights; the first is the richly gilded high altar or reredos. This was constructed in 1499 by
the master sculptor, Giles of Siloe and the beautiful polychromatic painting on
it was executed by Diego de la Cruz.
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| The Reredos |
The
high altar is rich in detail and depicts the Mystery of Redemption and is so rich in detail that many paragraphs
could be expended explaining its rich iconography. However in brief, in the
circular central piece, the border of which is created by a host of angels, the
crucifixion is depicted. The cross is held by representations of God the Father
on one side and the Holy Spirit on the other (unusually crowned with a Papal
Tiara). Below, Mary and the Apostle John look up from where they are standing
on either side of the Tabernacle (where the Host is kept for Eucharist).
Four scenes
of the passion of Christ surround the cross. Around this central area are four
more circular panels depicting the symbols of the four Evangelists and a rich
variety of saints including Peter, Paul, early church fathers, John the Baptist
and Mary Magdalene, as well as scenes from the life of Christ. At the extreme
bottom on the left and right, King Juan II and Queen Isabela, kneel in prayer.
The niche below the Tabernacle even revolves to display different sculptures to
mark each of the major feasts of the church calendar such as Christmas and
Easter in order to help focus the monk’s worship.
As
if this amazing sculptural ensemble were not enough, the second feature of note
lies in front of the altar and is the astonishing double tomb of King Juan II
and his second wife, Isabel of Portugal. It dates from 1489 – 1493 and made
from glowing crisp alabaster. Queen Isabel La
Catolica had it created for her parents. In the shape of an eight pointed
star, it is adorned with a profusion of sculptures – biblical characters on
King Juan’s side and allegorical ones on the queen’s side.
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| Tomb of King Juan II |
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| Tomb of Isabel of Portugal |
Beyond
the main church are three side chapels. The first containing treasures
belonging to the monastery and of particular interest was the restored Chapel
of Our Lady of Miraflores with it’s
exuberant Baroque multi-coloured frescoes, freshly restored to their original
glory.
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| Samson from King Juan II's tomb |
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| King David |
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| Abraham sacrificing Isaac |
Ironically
for me, however, the greatest treasure in the whole monastery is in the final
chapel and is not any of the gilded or polychromatic sculptures or the gold and
silver articles of treasure, but a 20th Century monochrome painting
called the Elevation of the Cross by the
Spanish Impressionist painter Joaquín
Sorolla. This unusual portrayal of the crucifixion shows the brutality of
the execution through it’s limited pallet (it seems to be in black and white,
but closer inspection reveals rich brushstrokes of gold and shades of
brown.
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| Sorolla's Elevation of the Cross |
The almost industrial intrusion
of rough, brutal hands in the foreground are pulling ropes which themselves are
obviously connected to pulleys which although unseen are suggested outside the
view and are hoisting the cross forward and upright towards it’s sickening,
joint dislocating thud into it’s socket, for which Christ has closed his eyes
and braced himself in readiness. Christ’s mother reels back in tortured
anguish, while St. John’s turns his distraught gaze, full of pathos and concern,
suddenly towards her, emphasised by a suggestion of wind whipping at his hair.
Mary’s
outstretched arms of grief and despair seem to echo those of Christ on the
cross. The men pulling the rope almost seem to be pulling in rebellion against
Heaven itself. But isn’t that the rebellious state of all our hearts? We pull
against God and his love and it is this which put Christ on the cross for our
sins.
Sorolla painted this deeply moving scene for a friend who was a monk in
the monastery and had it on a wall of his cell for many years. I stood
transfixed before it for some time contemplating the scene and could only pull
myself away from John’s powerful gaze it with some difficulty.
When
I got home to Ireland, I asked my friend Martin Stelcik (http://stelcikmartin.wix.com/drawing)
to create for me a pastel sketch of the painting for my study and I think he
produced a very moving copy which captures all the drama of the original.
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| Baroque detailing from Chapel of Our Lady of Miraflores |
It
was time to leave the monastery, find lunch and finish our walk to an albergue,
but I was so glad I had made the effort to visit Cartuja de Miraflores and if
you are walking the Camino, I would recommend that you make the effort to take
a detour – you will be richly rewarded.
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| Vaulting above reredos |
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