enerally not only the most
distinct but the truest. That produced by Seville's Cathedral is its
immensity of scale.

Toledo la rica,
Salamanca la fuerta,
Leon la bella,
Oviedo la sacra,
Sevilla la grande,

runs the Spanish saying. The size is overpowering. Each of the four side
aisles is nearly as broad and high as the nave of Westminster Abbey,
while the arcades of Seville's nave have twice the span. To the
impressionable sensitiveness of Theophile Gautier it was like a mountain
scooped out, a valley turned topsy-turvy. Notre Dame de Paris might walk
erect under the frightful height of the middle nave; pillars as large as
towers appear so slender that you catch your breath as you look up at
the far-away, vaulted roof they support.

Here are the first impressions of two early Spanish writers. Cean
Bermudez finds that, "seen from a certain distance, it resembles a
high-pooped and beflagged ship, rising over the sea with harmonious
grouping of sails, pennons, and banners, and with its mainmast towering
over the mizzenmast, foremast, and bowsprit." Caveda is struck by "the
general effect, which is truly majestic. The open-work parapets which
crown the roofs; the graceful lanterns of the eight winding stairs that
ascend in the corners to the vaults and galleries; the flying buttresses
that spring lightly from aisle to nave, as the jets of a cascade from
cliff to cliff; the slender pinnacles that cap them; the proportions of
the arms of the transept and of the buttresses supporting the side
walls; the large pointed windows to which they belong, rising over each
other, the pointed portals and entrances,--all these combine in an
almost miraculous effect, although they lack the wealth of detail, the
airy grace, and the delicate elegance that characterize the cathedrals
of Leon and Burgos."

Such are the varying impressions of ancient critics. To the student's
question, "To what period of architecture does the Cathedral of Seville
belong?" we must answer, "To no period, or rather to half a dozen."
Authorities and writers will give completely different information, and
Seville has found more willing and loving chroniclers than any other of
Spain's churches. Gallichan classes it as the "largest Gothic cathedral
in the world," and Caveda calls it "a type of the finest Spanish Gothic
architecture."

The interior of the main body of the church is pure, severe Gothic, the
sacristy major, highly developed R