With a Camera in Majorca. Margaret D'Este

the dim east end, far away, where wreaths of incense rise and the high altar is outlined in brilliant points of light, comes the distant chanting of priests and the response of choir boys—and suddenly a great rush of harmony fills the cathedral as the voice of the organ sinks and swells like a storm-wind among the columns, and dies trembling away in the uttermost recesses of the great building.

      Worshippers move to and fro in constant succession; men spread their handkerchiefs upon the stone floor and remain upon their knees in prayer, wholly oblivious of the coming and going around them. Women, dressed in deepest black, kneel motionless at the grilles of the various chapels, where lamps burn with a dull red spark before the image of saint or Saviour. A stately Suisse in wig and gown paces up and down and receives the visitor desirous of seeing the treasures of the sacristy; here are exhibited heavy silver candelabra, embroidered vestments, jewelled crosses, and reliquaries—and in company with these may be seen, bedizened with tawdry velvet and sham ermine, the mummified body of Majorca’s second king, Don Jaime II., who died in the year 1311.

      It was in the old church of Santa Eulalia, not far away, that in 1256 a general assembly was called to proclaim this Don Jaime—the second son of the Conqueror—heir to the crown of Majorca, his elder brother’s inheritance being the throne of Aragon, which carried with it a merely nominal suzerainty over the island kingdom. Before long, however, a dispute arose over the terms of allegiance due to the King of Aragon, and in 1285 Don Jaime was dispossessed of his kingdom by Alfonso III. for thirteen years, after which time it was restored to him by the usurper’s son, and retained till his death.

      “The patios of Palma abound in sculpture and wrought-iron work. …”

      (page 15)

      “The machicolated archway spanning the street of the Almudaina is the only survival of the five gateways that afforded entrance to the Citadel.”

      (page 15)

      He was succeeded by his son Sancho, who died without children, and the crown then passed to his uncle, the fourth son of the Conqueror, and through him to Don Jaime III., the last King of Majorca, who fell upon the field of Lluchmayor in 1349, in a last attempt to regain the crown wrested from him by Pedro IV. of Aragon.

      So ended—within little more than a hundred years of its creation—the independent monarchy founded by Jaime the Conqueror, and the islands have from that time been incorporated with the kingdom of Aragon.

      In the fine sixteenth-century town hall is preserved a full-length portrait of the Conqueror, which represents him as a grave-faced man with a pointed beard and hair cut square upon the shoulders, robed in crimson mantle, ermine collar, crown, and sword. For many centuries it was the custom to celebrate the anniversary of the capture of Palma by exhibiting this portrait outside the town hall, surmounted by the royal standard of Aragon and surrounded by the portraits of eminent Majorcans.

      The town contains innumerable other features of interest, but before leaving this portion of my subject I must not omit a mention of the Lónja—the Exchange—a large building standing near the harbour, and one of the first objects to attract the attention of the traveller as he nears the quay. Its keep-like walls and turreted parapets are usually the subject of much admiration, but I must confess that to us the great building seemed too symmetrically square and too conspicuously new to awaken in us any enthusiasm for its exterior.

      Severely rectangular it undoubtedly is—but its appearance of newness is misleading, for it dates from the fifteenth century, when it was the custom for Spanish towns to vie with one another in the splendour of their Exchanges; its claim, therefore, to be one of the finest Lónjas in Spain is a legitimate source of pride.

      It is said to have been begun in 1409, when the merchants of Palma, having rendered the King of Aragon great aid in the conquest of Sardinia, received permission to levy a tax on all the outgoing and incoming wares of foreigners and pirate persons; and so large was the sum accruing from this protective toll that after applying part of it to the defence of their commerce at sea they devoted the remainder to building this splendid Exchange—a testimony to future generations of the extent and prosperity of Palma’s trade in the Middle Ages.

      The interior is extremely striking, containing nine fluted and twisted columns of great height, their delicate groinings spreading in palm-like tracery over the roof. The building has long been disused, and the light that enters as the shutters are flung wide of the great windows looking out to sea discloses nothing but some old paintings upon the walls and a jumble of sculptured fragments piled upon the stone seats that surround the hall.