Concise, critical reviews of books, exhibitions, and projects in all areas and periods of art history and visual studies
August 18, 2010
Therese Martin Queen as King: Politics and Architectural Propaganda in Twelfth-Century Spain Leiden: Brill, 2006. 398 pp.; 106 b/w ills. $169.00 (9789004152977)
Thumbnail

One of Spain’s most intriguing monuments is the royal monastery church of San Isidore in Léon. It is well known for its extensive cycles of capitals, its Romanesque portals, and above all the paintings in the so-called Pantheon de los Reyes at the west end of the church.

Previous scholars have usually held the Infanta Urraca (d. 1101), sister of King Alfonso VI, responsible for the rebuilding of the church, or have considered the Infanta Sancha (d. 1159) as the patron of the building. The latter view is based on the evidence provided by a dedicatory relief in the church which refers to the church’s consecration in 1149 in the presence of Sancha and her brother Alfonso VII. In Queen as King Therese Martin proposes to demonstrate that although the construction of the present Romanesque church of San Isidore of Leon was initiated by the Infanta Urraca, who in her view built the Pantheon de los Reyes and started the building of the church at the east end, it was Queen Urraca, her niece, who was in fact its main patron. In Martin’s view, this is corroborated by the 1110 date of a donation for the work on the church by one of Urraca’s courtiers, the style of the capitals, and by a rather unassuming stone presently walled into the exterior of the north apse and inscribed ERA LCLXII (1162 Spanish era, 1124 Common Era). The inscription is accompanied by a distinct mason’s mark, of a type found only in the western parts of the church and the upper parts of the adjoining royal palace. This, according to Martin, suggests that the stone must have originated from the west side of the building, where it probably commemorated the completion of Urraca’s building campaign. According to Martin, the stone was relocated to its present position during restorations (129–30).

Martin thus considers Urraca’s role in building the church of St. Isidore as substantial. She had the eastern parts of the church enlarged to accommodate pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Isidore, added the transepts, and rebuilt the nave. The entire building campaign was completed by 1124.

Urraca succeeded King Alfonso VI to the throne of Léon-Castilla in 1109 and stayed in power until her death in 1126. Being the first Spanish queen to rule in her own right, her situation was precarious, the more so as her marriage was not a success; she divorced her second husband and took a lover instead. Her rule was therefore discredited by later chroniclers, although contemporary authors seem to have taken a milder stance. Martin holds that “the significance of San Isidoro within its historical context becomes clear only when we recognize Urraca as its major patron,” as she “rebuilt San Isidoro to fortify her unique position as a queen in her own right” (2). Martin also holds that “the queen was the only member of the royal family who had an urgent need to produce such a major public work” (5). She credits Urraca’s daughter, the Infanta Sancha, only with installing Augustinian canons at San Isidore in 1148 and with involvement in reconstructing the monastic quarters. This does not fit with the 1149 consecration date of the church; but Martin, for obvious reasons, consistently translates the term “consecratio” used on the 1149 relief, which mentions only Urraca’s children Sancha and Alfonso VII, as “rededication” or “re-consecration.”

Martin’s view thus entails a significant redating of this important monument, but as it is, the evidence for Urraca’s involvement with this rebuilding is slight. For one, no written evidence exists for Urraca having acted as a patron of San Isidore, even though Martin sets great store by San Isidore’s twelfth-century martyrology and obituary, started by the canons who were installed at San Isidore in 1148, which mention only Ferdinando I (d. 1065), Urraca, and her daughter Sancha. Martin argues that for them to be mentioned among the saints they must have been important patrons: Ferdinand brought the relics of St. Isidore to Leon, Urraca built the church, and Sancha installed the canons. But this is more an assumption than solid fact. Martin’s main arguments for Urraca’s patronage have to do with a change in style of the capitals and changes of plan that are apparent when comparing the east end, and the later transepts and nave (115). As Martin points out, the masons’ marks, which do not appear in Spanish architecture before the 1090s, suggest that the eastern parts were built by a different equip than the transepts and nave.

The book is built up chronologically. Chapter 1 introduces Urraca and the reasons why her supposed patronage was forgotten in later centuries. It takes its evidence mainly from contemporary chronicles like the Historia Silense, written during Urraca’s reign, the Crónica Anónima de Sahagún, completed circa 1117, and the Historia Compostellana, written at the instigation of (arch)bishop Diego Gelmírez. These chronicles present a much milder view of Urraca’s reign than do the chronicles written in later centuries, which tend to describe her as a wanton queen. Chapter 2 describes the establishment of San Isidore as a palatine chapel and the church built by Urraca’s grandparents. Chapter 3 focuses on the work done by the Infanta Urraca. The two following chapters are devoted to Queen Urraca and her dynastic propaganda in building the church and in having the so-called Pantheon de los Reyes, dated by Martin to 1109, decorated with paintings. Following this, attention is given to the works carried out at the behest of Urraca’s children, the Infanta Sancha and her brother Alfonso VII. In the last chapter Martin draws comparisons with some other lady rulers in the medieval west, which adds little to the main argument.

Throughout Queen as King, the historical context is outlined before the relevant parts of the church and the adjoining palace building are discussed, thereby giving precedence to historical data over archeological evidence. Although the book contains precise and copious details, the reader gets a disjointed account of the building history and is never given a full picture of the building complex as a whole. The book contains a few sketchy plans, but none show the church as it is at present. It is the historical context that directs Martin’s interpretation of the building. Her approach to the so-called Lamb Portal on the south side of the San Isidore nave illustrates this point. Martin agrees with previous scholarship that this portal was made before 1101 and formed the main entrance into the church built by the Infanta Urraca, but wonders “how the sculpture would have been read when the old warrior was dead and a woman ruled in his place” (101). She discusses the portal “in terms of the queen’s propaganda,” arguing that the iconography would have taken on a new meaning during Queen Urraca’s rule. The tympanum has a medallion with the Christ-Lamb in the top of it. The central scene below portrays the sacrifice of Isaac by his father Abraham. To the viewer’s right Isaac is shown riding toward the sacrificial scene with his mother Sara looking on; to the left are Hagar and Ishmael, the latter of whom is mounted and “shooting at the Lamb.” “Impious Ishmael contrasts with virtuous Isaac” (102). During Urraca’s reign, these scenes could, according to Martin, have been interpreted as follows: “The Abraham of the tympanum, father of both Isaac and Ishmael, could easily have been read as Alfonso VI, with Isaac standing in for Urraca, as her father’s true heir. Visitors to the royal church of San Isidoro would have known that Urraca’s legitimate birth contrasted with that of her half-brother [Sancho, who had been named heir to Alfonso VI in 1107, but who died in battle in 1108] through his Muslim concubine mother.” According to Martin the tympanum could, during Urraca’s reign, have been read as the queen’s triumph over her brother, and would have emphasized her position as a legitimate ruler (100–4).

Another example of such a reinterpretation is Martin’s discussion of the horseshoe-shaped door and the polylobed arches that grace San Isidore’s architecture. Martin argues that these were derived from the cathedral of Toledo. At the time, Toledo’s cathedral was still a Christianized mosque, and “polylobed arches are likely to have been used in the Great Mosque of Toledo” (106). This is quite possible, and yet where is the evidence? However, it is on this supposed link between San Isidore and Toledo Cathedral that Martin suggests that “Urraca may have used the polylobed arches and horseshoe portal to recall her father’s retaking of Toledo and to assume her role as heir to the Visigoths and empress of all Spain. To add a further layer of meaning, the reference to Toledo may also have responded to the political situation of the day. Archbishop Bernard of Toledo, primate of Iberia, was one of Urraca’s most powerful allies. Polylobed arches linked her new church with his, as her politics linked Léon with Toledo” (107–8).

The dating of the painted cycle in the Pantheon to 1109 is not entirely convincing either as it is construed from the “extraordinary representation of St. George.” St. George had become the patron saint of the kings of Aragon in 1096 following his miraculous appearance at the battle of Alcoraz. In 1109, Urraca married Alfonso el Bataladdor, king of Aragon, but they were ill-matched and the couple parted within the year and got divorced in 1113. According to Martin, this indicates that the image of St. George could only have been painted in 1109. However, to my mind St. George is rather too common a saint on whom to base this conclusion.

In short, although the church of San Isidore of Léon, as it is known today, may well have been built during Urraca’s reign, Martin’s attempts to link it explicitly to the queen’s political propaganda are not entirely convincing. The church might just as well have been built by her daughter Sancha (d. 1159), and work may well have lingered on longer than 1124. Martin might have afforded more attention to Sancha. After all, as Martin writes, Sancha was “one of the most powerful political figures of her day” (154), and from early childhood she had sworn to be the “bride of San Isidoro.” It was she who lived at San Isidore; moreover, it was she who, more than her mother, was known for her generosity toward the church and her devotion to its patron saint.

Elizabeth den Hartog
Art History Department, Leiden University, The Netherlands