On get-away day, we've found that a good plan is to stay in the place you expect to tour last, then we can leave the luggage and car at the hotel, checkout, and enjoy ourselves. So today is a 'deep dive' onto
Vila Viçosa (pop 8,319 in 2011).
In fact, we start right after breakfast by inspecting the
capelas in the Claustro of the
Pousada (the restored
Convento das Chagas de Cristo, sixteenth century). Since we can get close-up to the surface, we're less concerned about the iconography, and simply fascinated with the technique: the application of the paint, the handling of tone and color, the extraordinarily subtle expressions on the faces. We have time to marvel at the efforts to express perspective and the animated details in the vegetation.
As
mentioned before, the frescoes
are likely the work of
Cecília do Espírito Santo, who lived in the Convento from 1652 to 1723. More generally, we notice the decorative graphic and line-work deliver a visually neutral structure for the painterly elements, and just the enormous quantity of work. Unfortunately, it looks as though someone has deliberately scraped several of the faces, which is a way for invading forces to desecrate valuable and meaningful places.
The stories are irresistible. Let's take one swing at
the Latin on the back of the portal:
O crux ave spec unica o sola fuisti digna portare rege celor (
The cross, hail the only specimen, you are worthy to carry the King). The scene is also alluring. It seems to take place after the
Deposition (a ladder is on the far right), a group laments the empty cross with the Virgin Mary and
John the Evangelist; there is a small skull and a few bones at the base of the cross. Mary Magdalene is often depicted in the Deposition, but just to the left, behind a Middle eastern-looking fellow, are two nuns in their habits. We imagine Cecília representing herself and her sisters – enjoying this in private is an immense privilege.
Before checkout, we have time to walk up to the Castelo. First, a walk in the gardens of the Pousada, where autumn seems to be eternal.
To lift the weight of these concerns from his heart the traveller goes to the old town, possessing a beauty particular to ancient Alentejo communities. Before climbing the road to the castle, neglected by the numerous tourists, he goes into the church of Our Lady of the Conception, covered from top to bottom in polychrome tiles, yet another illustration of how far we’ve gone towards losing our taste for this splendid material or perhaps how far we’ve gone in adulterating it as a modern utility. (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
The facade is basic, with the marble pilasters pushing through the pediment, as we've seen before. The
torre sineira is on the left, facing the
cemitério. The interior is a simple four-bay
Doric arcade separating the nave and aisles, and the polychrome tile so disliked by
Saramago. We do not find tile is over-powering, and are unsure about the ferocity of his displeasure – modern sensibilities.
The traveller admires the justice inherent in the image of the female patron saint whom João, without taking account of any divine preferences, crowned and proclaimed patron saint of Portugal, and then went on to other tiles, of Policarpo de Oliveira Bernardes, a fully accomplished artist. As has been noted many times previously, highly attentive as the traveller is to everyday minutiae, even without disregarding rare and important matters, it’s not so strange, he finds, that ears of corn and oil should be embedded in the substantial arches supporting the entrance, and again on the impressive collection boxes, one of which, older in its design and lettering, is intended for the Papal Bull for the Crusaders, while the other, for the patron saint of the church, is as theatrical as any Baroque screen. To either side of the central nave, leaning against the columns, they are in a position to solicit a believer’s generosity. Whoever enters the parish church of Vila Viçosa with money, oil or corn to spare, must have the hardest of hearts if he’s not moved to part with them. (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
Saramago refers to the
Solar da Padroeira (house of the Patroness of Portugal), proclaimed by
Dom João IV in 1646 in thanks for Her protection during the
invasões francesas. After Dom João IV places his on the figure, Portuguese monarchs end the practice of wearing crowns.
Looking for references to oil or corn, we find none. In fact, the interior seems modest and comfortable compared to others on the trip; we feel no pressure to make an offering. A circular stair and pulpit are carved on the the center column on the north side. Two wood choir stalls with drawers (for their robes?) fill the next two bays – quite a unique setup.
In addition to the Capela-mor with Nossa Senhora, there are other interesting capelas. There is a chapel in honor of Saint Peter, in a red robe holding his keys. In the roundel he is reading a book and looking rather bored; his headgear (tiara) and keys appear in the ceiling. Another chapel holds a painting of 'A Assunção' in which everyone wears lanyards with Templar crosses, and pulls an unnecessarily long ribbon with Latin. We make no attempt at translation.
Just to the left of the Capela-mor is a side chapel with an enchanting townscape, the sun, and the moon behind the Crucifix. On the left is a painting of the Nativity, and on the right is a Pieta. An armored crusader (Santo Condestável?) stands in front, holding a sword and banner. On the floor, in a little wagon, is the dead figure of a female saint (Nossa Senhora?). We imagine the wagon is wheeled around town on festival days, but by now it may be too precious and is behind glass.
The castle of Vila Viçosa, by which the traveller means the New Castle, a sixteenth-century edifice built according to the instructions of Duke Jaime, is first and foremost a fortress. Everything in it is subordinated to a military function. A fortification of this kind, with walls which in places are as much as four or six metres thick, was conceived with an eye to great and lengthy blockades. Its dry moat, powerful cylindrical towers, each of them extended to cover two sides of the quadrangle, its wide interior ramps to facilitate troop movements, involving the defensive artillery and no doubt including their draught animals, allowed the traveller to inhale, in a manner he has only rarely encountered, and from then on never again as intensely as upon this occasion, the atmosphere of war and the smell of gunpowder, despite the total absence of the instruments of war. Inside the castle walls sits the dukes’ citadel with some fine paintings, and within it you can see situated, and well situated, let it be said, the Archaeological Museum and the Archive of the House of Braganza, a pile of enormously rich documentation still awaiting proper exploitation. (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
We approached the
Museu entrance, wondering if we could climb the walls and look around, but there is a fee. Online research shows most of the museum involves a collection of
archeological findings and several
mounted hunting trophies. As we cross the little draw bridge, we are drawn to the castle and the grounds much more than the museum. We thank the staff and move on.
The park is planted with muscular old trees, still green in mid-November, and spiked with cypresses – effective as reference points and very picturesque. The dry moat is sharply cut and filled with ground cover. It makes a gorgeous setting for the Castelo. The round corner towers are reminiscent of
Évora Monte's, while the square corners are like the prow of a battleship.
As for "the total absence of the instruments of war", there are cannons on each side of the town gate; must have been installed after Saramago's "Viagem" forty years ago. The grounds are truly enjoyable, but the weather begins to threaten, so we head for the Paço.
We take the crooked way back, into the lower town. When we turn the corner at the small plaza in front of the Igreja de Santo António, the round windows align for a 'happy face', which is always welcome.
The
Paço Ducal de Vila Viçosa (fifteenth century), and its fabulous blue and pink marble facade is our recent neighbor; we are accustomed to, if not comfortable with, its scale. The application of the
classical orders is perfect:
Corinthian on
Ionic on Doric, curved pediment over triangular pediment over straight lintel.
The architects draw one bay, roll out the tracing paper, and just keep going. The
Serlianas above the entrances are a great touch. And it's always thoughtful to have an entrance and an exit, like a busy kitchen.
All in all, it’s unjust that Paço de Vila Viçosa merits as attentive a visit as their timetable allows, obviously devised by the guides there. It’s not always the object of interest they note that the traveller is likely to most appreciate, but its selection in all probability follows an owner of uncertain taste intended to please everybody. In any case, unanimity of choice is guaranteed for the rooms named after the Virtues, the Duchesses or Hercules while in the north wing, in the rooms dedicated to the Queen and to David, there’s particular distinction given the plaza lined with Talavera tiles like the Duchesses’ room. Equally magnificent are the chests in the Dukes’ Room, and the oratory of the Duchess Catalina is also extremely beautiful, its ceiling painted with themes drawn from decorations at Pompeii. There’s no lack of painting in the Vila Viçosa, much of it done by contemporary Portuguese artists, and more by some good sixteenth-century copyists, most notably Van der Goes’ “Descent from the Cross”. If the traveller should venture into the kitchen, he’d be taken by surprise by the variety and quantity of copper utensils there. If he visited the weaponry, armour and trappings, if he didn’t fail to see the stage-coach belonging to João V, it’s because it all has to be seen in order the better to understand the lives of the dukes and their servants, despite the fact that where these are concerned, they didn’t add much to a tour of the palace. (José Saramago, “Journey to Portugal,” 1990; trans Hopkinson-Caistor, 2000)
Photography is not allowed in
the private museum, but there is a
very good gallery on their web site. Just as well, as the Paço does not have electric lights (so no insane wiring, a good thing). We are allowed to shoot out the windows, but the drips on the panes dampen our efforts.
We can report an excellent tour by another engaging docent. She does have a timetable (we are the last tour before lunch), but enthusiastically answers our questions and takes us to an 'extra' exhibit (behind several locked doors) about
the royal family's tour of
Egypt in 1903. The exhibit is built around a journal, kept by the fourteen-year-old
king-to-be. It contains drawings and photos, and a fascinating multi-media presentation in the music room. Just a few years later, in 1908,
his father and brother are murdered, and he ascends the throne as King. He holds the title for
a little more than two years.
We exit from the Porta dos Nós (the door of knots).
Our drive to Lisboa is our last chance to absorb glimpses of the green hills and the cork trees; we take the opportunity to save a few images. The rains nurture the orchards and farms, but we drive home towards the sunshine. In the last photo, on the A12 near Pinhal Novo, storks fill a trestle, supporting the power lines for the city, with their nests.
