The interior of the churches we see today differs greatly from how they looked a century ago—not so much because of their state of preservation, but rather because of the alterations made to their structures, which in many cases have stripped away the very essence of the architecture and removed numerous pieces of movable art. Furthermore, they present spaces that predate the liturgical reforms carried out after the Second Vatican Council, when liturgical furnishings and movable property were, almost systematically, removed and destroyed—items that, fifty or sixty years ago, did not enjoy the legal protection that cultural property has today.

When we have photographs, we are often greatly surprised to see spaces with hardly any benches and with kneelers that are either brick-encased or embedded in the floor, their altarpieces quite marred by dust and the wear and tear that comes with the passage of centuries—to which we must add a series of elements that were gradually incorporated into their decoration, often with little success or good judgment.

 
Interior of the Aoiz parish church in 1916. file Royal and General of Navarre

The Skin of Architecture

One of the first things that catches the eye in the photos we present is everything related to the walls. Today, we view the interiors of many of Navarre’s medieval and Renaissance churches and small rural chapels in black and white, since they were stripped—in the second half of the 20th century—of their mortar and paint, or, in other words, the “skin” of the architecture. As Prof. Echeverría Goñi has pointed out: “These buildings were only considered complete once their walls and vaults had been plastered and painted—work that would be periodically renewed in accordance with prevailing fashions until the rise of a preference for exposed stone in the middle of the last century.” The widespread chipping away of interior elements in churches took place in the 1980s, by which time legislation—including international legislation—was already in place to protect those elements.

Light and Clean Warehouses

Most of the visual records show interiors with hardly any pews, both in large buildings—such as the abbey church of Fitero, which was converted into a parish church following the Mendizábal Confiscation—and in more or less monumental structures, such as the parish churches of Aoiz and Murchante. The absence of pews is offset only by the presence of kneelers, for which the faithful paid a fee and which were located in fixed spots—in some cases, above family tombs. These are visions of interior spaces that seem almost ghostly to us today.

The windows let in a white light from the leaded-glass panes. Sometimes they had veils or curtains that could be raised and lowered from top to bottom using pulleys and ropes operated from the bottom of the walls. On occasion, the traditional liturgy required the church to be darkened, and for that reason, these veils or curtains had to be operable. This was the case, for example, during the Tenebrae service of Holy Week. The distinctive feature of the ceremony was that it took place with the churches practically in darkness, illuminated by six candles on the altar—presided over by a veiled crucifix—and another fifteen candles arranged in a massive tiered candelabrum, seven on each side and one larger one in the center. At various points during the rite, the candles were extinguished as the psalmody progressed—both those on the altar and those on the tenebrary—leaving only the central one, called “María,” lit. The intensity of the ceremony grew, and at the end, after all the candles had been gradually extinguished, the lit “María” candle was removed and hidden behind the altar to conceal it from the congregation. At the conclusion of the solemnly performed “Miserere,” the ritual called for a brief commotion while an acolyte brought out the “María” candle.

As for the flooring, while some have preserved their coffered floors from graves dating back to before the 19th century, others have lost their wooden or herringbone-patterned brick floors, which have been replaced by terrazzo and other flooring materials that are not in keeping with the rest of the architectural elements—such as elevations, openings, and roofs—all of which together form a unified whole, creating an indivisible interior space as a historical-artistic ensemble.

Interior of the Larraga parish church. Photo by Montón, ca. 1960. Private collection

Altarheads and chancels with railings, communion rails, and the Sacred Hearts

In most of the photos we present, no large grilles are visible—possibly because they never had any, or because they were removed after the Council of Trent. The Cathedral of Pamplona and the Collegiate Church of Roncesvalles are the exceptions. In both cases, the grilles have either been moved or have disappeared, respectively.

There were few parishes that, between the last decades of the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century, did not incorporate images of the Heart of Jesus and the Heart of Mary, placing them either on the main altarpieces themselves or within the sanctuary. This was a widespread devotion that was on the rise during the last third of the 19th century. In 1856, the feast day became universally observed, and the number of members of the Apostolate of Prayer—an association centered on this devotion—grew steadily. In 1875, the diocese was consecrated in the cathedral during a most solemn ceremony. The Bishop of Pamplona published a circular in 1878, urging parish priests to perform the consecration to the Sacred Heart of Jesus using the formula he attached to the *bulletin * *Oficial Eclesiástico*. The image from Dicastillo, one of the earliest of its kind preserved in the region, dates from that same year and was brought from Paris.

In some cases, two side altars—known as “ochavos” or “credencias” because they occupied the upper part of the altar’s side tables—were built next to the main altarpiece, although they eventually became altars in their own right. Diego de Camporredondo did just that in Los Arcos (1742) and Peralta (1772), adding a sort of large wing-like structure next to the main altarpiece. He did something similar a little later, between 1778 and 1779, in the parish church of Mendigorría, with a pair of altarpieces that today occupy other locations in the church; however, a photograph held at the Bildarchiv Foto Marburg places them within the same area of the main chapel, next to the large Romanist altarpiece that presides over the church.

With regard to railings and communion rails that have disappeared entirely, a distinction must be made between the two. Railings, dating back to the leave Middle Ages average, protected the main chapels, and we have very few photographic records of them, except for those at the Cathedral of Pamplona and the Collegiate Church of Roncesvalles. Communion rails experienced a resurgence following the spread of Eucharistic devotion, which reached its peak with the celebration of the Eucharistic Congresses beginning in 1881 throughout the universal Church and the establishment of Night Adoration groups throughout Navarre. They were made of wood, polychrome wood, cast iron, marble, and other hard stones. Of particular note were the silver communion rails donated by Marcelina Bisié to the two parishes of Corella in 1881, which were largely restored in 1967.

The layout of the presbyteries in the main chapels has been changing since the liturgical reform, with the addition of tables, amboes, seats, and other elements for which the old presbyteries in religious architecture—up until the mid-20th century—were not designed.

Interior of the San Francisco Javier de Tudela “ high school ,” c. 1920. file Real y General de Navarra

Complete altarpieces, complete with their display cases and lavish ornamentation

The period to which these photographs belong coincides with an extreme enthusiasm for textile decorations, candlesticks, and flowers—usually made of talc. This trend reached such exaggerated extremes that it even covered the painted panels of the altarpieces, leaving them completely hidden from view. It is true, however, that in many cases, the dirt, accumulated soot, and varnish on the paintings were so Degree that absolutely nothing could be seen. The photograph of the completely obscured altarpiece at Santa María de Olite could not be more telling in this regard.

This very negative aspect is counterbalanced by a very positive one in the photographs. We are referring to the presence of the tabernacles, which, along with the pulpits, were viewed in a reductionist light after the Second Vatican Council and were simply removed, sold off, or destroyed. This constitutes a rather dark chapter in the history of the movable heritage of churches.

Those reserved for city councils

In some photographs, the seats reserved for local government officials are clearly visible. These are special pews—more ornate, larger in size, and often bearing the town’s coat of arms—located in prime spots. They were usually located in the front pews on both sides, although in some cases they were arranged facing two choirs, as was the case in Larraga, Murchante, Los Arcos, and Fitero. In these latter towns, it was not only their location that stood out; there were also railings with latticework separating the space reserved for the authorities and their guests on days when the town attended church as a group ( attendance ).

The benches were always in their place, even though they were used only on rare occasions throughout the year. They were covered with fabric covers—and even with more elaborate wooden ones—to protect the silk or velvet upholstery.

Interior of the San Miguel de Corella parish church on a century-old postcard. Private collection

Pulpit 

Due to heavy use and changing trends, the pulpits were gradually replaced over time. Their presence in photographs tells us about their use and function, as they were positioned in a specific spot for preaching and reading before churches were equipped with public address systems. 

The removal of the pulpits occurred, for the most part, as a result of the conciliar reform. For example, the Baroque pulpits in the parish of Lerín, the 19th-century pulpits in Larraga, and the Neo-Gothic pulpits in Aoiz and San Nicolás de Pamplona were removed. 

As is well known, pulpits played a special role within churches, not only as the place from which biblical readings were proclaimed, but also as the setting for the preacher, who displayed his gestural, theatrical, and rhetorical skills in his sermons. These were very well-attended events, and preachers took great care with what they said from the pulpit, preparing ad hoc sermons tailored to the audience, with the appropriate ornamentation, rich in the prevailing rhetoric, and always with the threefold purpose of teaching, delighting, and inspiring action. The preacher was required to pray and study, as well as to stir up fervor, displaying knowledge, eloquence, and wit. 

Presbytery of the Mendigorría Parish. Bildarchiv

A couple of low choirs at the back of the nave

The fact that some towns of a certain importance had a town council meant that the choirs where certain canonical hours were sung—in imitation of collegiate churches, monasteries, or cathedrals—were highly development, their walls adorned with stonework and elaborate organ cases.

In some cases, the choir was located at the back of the nave—not exactly on a higher level, but on the same level as the nave itself. This was the case in Cintruénigo and Cascante. They featured all the typical elements of a choir: the choir screens, an organ in the “ leave ” or upper section, and choir stalls. Even in Cascante, a photograph of the now-demolished parish church of La Asunción shows us sample the existence of a caponera, just as in the cathedrals of Pamplona and Tudela. José Mª Iribarren states in his *Vocabulario navarro* that *caponera* was the old term used in Pamplona and Tudela to refer to the gallery located in front of the choir screens in their cathedrals, where the canons listened to the sermons. The caponeras, located in front of the choir screen on both sides of the entrance to the cathedral, are referred to interchangeably in historical documents by other terms such as “choir galleries” or “ante-choir.” They featured an architectural base and seats for the canons during sermons, enclosed by a latticework screen.

Regarding the location of these choirs within the nave, we know that in Corella, in 1748, a legal dispute arose over the ecclesiastical council’s unilateral decision to build a lower choir in the parish church of San Miguel, within the main nave. In fact, the clergy commissioned the construction work and the choir stalls. The town reacted strongly, arguing that all construction work on both the San Miguel and Rosario parishes had been paid for by the town ever since the establishment of the “ report,” for which they presented several qualified witnesses who had held positions of responsibility regarding the aforementioned construction projects. Council members, primicieros, and superintendents made it very clear that the ecclesiastical chapter had never before interfered in such matters, and this had also been the case during the recent expansion of the church, carried out for the greater comfort of the people and to enhance divine worship. It does not appear that this was a coincidence. It was surely motivated by the presence of such choirs in the nearby parishes of Calahorra, as well as in the collegiate church of Alfaro.

Interior of the Parish Church of the Assumption in Cascante, c. 1930. Bildarchiv

A fascinating stereoscopic photograph—a glass negative—taken around 1915–1917 by Francisco Xavier Parés, a physician and “ partner ” of the Catalan Hiking Center, provides a “ A ” account of the appearance of the main nave of the Cistercian monastery in Fitero. 

The photograph sample shows the nave and, in particular, the chancel of the church as conceived by the two abbots of the Counter-Reformation, Fray Marcos de Villalva (1590–1591) and Fray Ignacio de Ibero (1592–1612). The former, influenced by the work done at El Escorial, adapted the Cistercian church to new styles, featuring a presbytery with tombs and a large altarpiece—newly constructed in both its architectural and sculptural elements—which he complemented with a first-rate collection of painted panels commissioned from Rolan Mois. The abbot himself removed the old medieval choir from the main nave and ordered a new one to be built at the foot of the nave, equipping it with choir stalls in the El Escorial style. After the death of Friar Marcos de Villalba, Abbot Ibero began adding classicist-style altarpieces to the pillars of the nave. Later, the series was completed with other Baroque pieces.

The Baroque case of the grand organ, dating from 1660, stands out in the nave for its splendor. The instrument still re sample s the wooden stops modified by organ builder Juan Monturus in the late 18th century, as well as the battle trumpets, which were removed in 1929. As a curious fact, it is worth noting that the choir stands feature carved wooden hands, just like those preserved in the parish church of Los Arcos.

The walls display the church’s most recent coat of paint, completed in 1828, which covered the old Renaissance stucco with its raised joints dating from 1591. The wooden floor had been laid shortly before, specifically in 1905, during the tenure of Father Martín Corella as parish priest. The old bricks that covered the floors—visible in the photos from Lampérez’s study—are no longer visible. Among the elements that are no longer present, we should highlight both the “ leave ” railing with richly wrought-iron balusters, which separated the “ Wayside Cross ” from the main chapel, and the seats reserved for the town council, enclosed within a latticework structure accessed through their respective doors.  

But what is most striking is how uncluttered the nave is, free of pews. In fact, there are only a few at the entrance, and the space that was once used as a lower choir—directly beneath the organ—is still visible. In any case, the old pews do not extend beyond the height of the pulpit. Regarding the abbey period, which ended with Mendizábal’s Confiscation, it is evident that the partitions and railings—which had prevented parishioners from Fitero from passing through the main nave—had disappeared, since the parish church proper was located in the Epistle aisle, with the altarpiece of the Virgin of La Barda facing it. This altarpiece was situated in the section at the foot of that aisle, in what is now the Chapel of Christ on the Column. Photographs of the nave taken a decade later show a different scene, as the pews now occupied a couple of bays.

In the photographs we present, you can see the newly inaugurated exposed tabernacle, funded by the Apostolate of Prayer in 1904, as well as the images of the Sacred Heart of Jesus—recently acquired in Valencia—and the Heart of Mary, which is still the sculpture to be dressed, sent from the Philippines by a Recollect Augustinian who was a native of the town. In the photograph taken by the Catalan doctor, the image of the Heart of Mary has a golden halo, a detail that does not appear in the 1916 photograph; therefore, we are inclined to believe that the former was taken slightly later. Both images—of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Heart of Mary—were the focus of distinctive devotions since the establishment of the Apostolate of Prayer in the parish in 1897.

 
Interior of the nave of the abbey church in Fitero, 1915–1917, by Francisco Xavier Parés of the Catalan Hiking Center. Private collection

The simple, austere, and unadorned single nave of the monastic church of Tulebras was built in the late 12th century and early 13th century and consists of five rectangular bays with an offset axis, topped by a semicircular apse of great spatial development . The major renovations carried out on the church in the mid-16th century involved the reconstruction of its roof under the abbesses María de Beaumont y Navarra (1547–1559) and Ana Pasquier de Eguaras (1559–1573). Archbishop Hernando de Aragón, who had close ties to the community, supported the “ project ” with two separate donations, which made it possible to complete the new star-vaulted ceiling in 1565. The church once featured several important chapels, such as the Chapel of Saint Bernard—which is now used by the faithful—and the Chapel of the Virgin of La Cama, which no longer exists. 

Nor has the upper choir—which the nuns commissioned in 1563 and which we know from photographs—survived; it was in this area that the choir stalls carved by Bernal de Gabadi in 1589 were placed.

The photograph, taken from the foot to the head of the altarpiece sample , shows the altarpiece in its original location, featuring the outstanding panels by the Aragonese painter Jerónimo Vicente Vallejo Cosida, created around 1565–1570 and studied by Professor Tarifa. Its commission sample is an example of the rich relations between Navarre and Aragon and between the Cistercians of both kingdoms—and, specifically, of their foremost representative, Friar Hernando de Aragón, a member of the Aragonese royal family, abbot of Veruela (1535–1539), and archbishop of Zaragoza (1539–1575). His secretary, Friar Lope framework, succeeded him as abbot of Veruela (1539–1560), a “ position ” that also entailed the “ visit ” of the order at the house in Tulebras. Of the four coats of arms included in the predella of the altarpiece, only that of Abbot Friar Lope has been identified. The pairing of Cosida and Archbishop Don Hernando also appears in the commissions for the main altarpieces of the Aragonese Cistercian women’s monasteries of Cambrón (1562) and Trasobares (1566).

 
The apse of the monastery church before restoration. file of the Tulebras Monastery

The ensemble, now dismantled, is on sample at the museum. Its structure rested on a pedestal, most recently featuring a tabernacle and previously the panel depicting the Crucifixion, according to Criado Mainar. On either side were two paintings in the side compartments depicting the Saints John. The main body consisted of three panels featuring the Dormition of the Virgin between Saint Mary Magdalene and Saint Nicholas of Bari. These latter panels are topped by clipeus depicting two models of Christian princes: King Saint Louis of France and Prince Saint Hermenegild. The attic featured a Calvary of complex composition, the lower third of which is an addition. Previously, that top section would have been occupied by the panel depicting the Trinity.

Without a doubt, the panel that is most bibliography and most problematic in the ensemble, given its former location, is the one depicting the Trinity. Jesús Criado presented a very convincing proposal , arguing that it was the panel that crowned the altarpiece and would have been removed after 1628, when Pope Urban VIII prohibited the public display of such iconography.

The photograph of the feet shows a view of the monastery’s lower and upper choirs, both of which no longer exist. The upper choir housed a large organ and two galleries with dense latticework, extending into the nave.

View of the monastery church toward the choir, before restoration. file of the Tulebras Monastery

In 1945, Leopoldo Torres Balbás, a representative of the “conservative” school of thought in the restoration of historic buildings, wrote an excellent article titled “ article ” about the church in Roncesvalles. At that time, restoration work on the building—carried out between 1939 and 1945 under the supervision of Onofre Larumbe and architect Francisco Garraus—had just been completed. With courage and undisguised criticism, he writes on the subject: “An adverse fate seems to have plagued the buildings of the shelter and inn at Roncesvalles. Built through the generosity of Sancho the Strong of Navarre in the early years of the 13th century, the church may never have been completed according to the original plan. In 1445, a fire caused extensive damage to the church. Later, an innovative abbot remodeled it in the style of the 17th century, masking its original appearance almost entirely—which is why it has gone unnoticed by quite a few people in modern times. And finally, beginning in 1940, it underwent a radical and clumsy restoration. After removing the cladding from the time of Philip IV, the old ashlars were chiseled to give them the appearance of new work; moldings, capitals, and other elements were ugly and poorly completed with cement; the brick vaults were clad to mimic ashlar masonry; pulpits were invented and embedded in the walls; and windows were added in shapes the church never had. Stained-glass windows made in Germany and ostentatious furnishings have further disfigured this elegant Gothic church. Despite its previous disguise, one could still imagine its original forms. Today, desecrated to its very core, it is a completely new church—a clumsy Gothic forgery from which both beauty and emotion have fled. The current restoration has been carried out in defiance of repeated orders from high-ranking ecclesiastical authorities, such as the Apostolic Nunciature, which stated in a circular issued not many years ago: “Neither on the specified objects (of artistic or historical value, belonging to ecclesiastical entities) nor on ecclesiastical buildings shall restorations be carried out without the opinion of experts and without the assurance of proper supervision.” All of this is undeniable, as is the rose window that disfigures the façade, although it must be acknowledged that the interior of the church has been restored. 

 
High Mass at the Collegiate Church of Roncesvalles, 1917. Photo by Eugeniusz Frankowski. file Royal and General of Navarre

The church’s appearance prior to that renovation reflected the major transformation of the chancel and main chapel that took place during the priorship of Don Juan Manrique de Lamariano, between 1619 and 1628, although the grille seen in the photograph—which enclosed the sanctuary—dated from an earlier period. The main altarpiece, the placement of the legendary chains of Navas de Tolosa, and the new royal tomb for Sancho the Strong and his wife were projects in keeping with the spirit of the times and the sculptural styles then in vogue. A description by the canon and future subprior, Don Juan de Huarte, gives us an account of what the church’s chancel looked like up to that point. This prebendary was born in Villava in 1550, studied in Salamanca, served as a canon of Roncesvalles from 1598, and was subprior of that collegiate church from 1609 until his death in 1625. He did not approve of the actions of Prior Juan Manrique de Lamariano and made this well known. The altarpiece was created by Gaspar Ramos and Victorián de Echenagusia, both from the Romanist workshop in Sangüesa, who received payments beginning in 1623, although work had begun around 1619. Fermín de Huarte was responsible for the polychromy and received 750 ducats for his work. Gaspar Ramos collaborated with Juan de la Hera, a cabinetmaker from Lumbier, on the altarpieces in Abaurrea Alta and leave, Artieda, Garayoa, and other towns until a legal dispute put an end to their joint projects.

Another decision made by the new prior was to remove the Gothic tomb of Sancho the Strong from the presbytery, as it no longer fit in with the new, classically styled altarpiece. Furthermore, by that time, this “ subject ” style of funerary monument had fallen out of fashion, as those featuring a large triumphal arch—with the deceased depicted in perpetual adoration, in the style of the presbytery at El Escorial—had become widespread. El Escorial was a building that greatly influenced both the aesthetics and the details of the entire subject. Around 1622, the prior decided to install a new tomb in the presbytery, on the Gospel side, for which he had one of the stone walls of the medieval church torn down. This action has been judged by the collegiate church’s historian as an unforgivable anachronism with a truly ridiculous effect. Miguel de Ganuza was commissioned to carry out the project. 

Former main altarpiece of the collegiate church of Roncesvalles, created between 1619 and 1623. Photograph published in *La Avalancha* in 1912. Pamplona Municipal * file *

The parish church of Santa María de Olite underwent key developments—which shaped the appearance of its interior—following its medieval construction. One such development was undoubtedly the construction of its main altarpiece around 1525–1530, painted by the Aragonese artist Pedro de Aponte and featuring a rich iconographic program. Since then, the chancel of the church has featured this impressive piece of liturgical furnishings, which serves as a visual, ritual, and spiritual element within the interior space of the complex. However, the altarpiece underwent modifications such as those shown in the photograph, both in the lower section—which features an ostentatious display case—and in the upper section. At times, it was even covered with large red damask drapes.

Another period was marked by major renovations, carried out beginning in the 1760s, including the general whitewashing of the building, the construction of two galleries accessible from the royal palace’s chambers, the ornate pulpits, the construction of the Chapel of Christ, and the organ. The photograph we present here serves as notarial evidence of these renovations.

The whitewashing of the entire interior was carried out between 1763 and 1764 and was under the position of the mason Manuel Espinosa, who received his final payment in 1764. Espinosa traveled to Caparroso at the start of the project, in 1763, to summon the whitewashers—undoubtedly the team led by the Italian Pedro Bardini or Baldini, who was working that year on the whitewashing and painting of the Virgin of Soto’s “ Shrine of Our Lady of Fair Love ” and was later documented at other churches, such as the Basilica of Luquin (1784). Baldini also served a position r for the cleaning of altarpieces, as was the case at the parish church of Falces in 1772. The stained-glass windows and the floor of the parish church of Olite sustained some damage that had to be repaired.

Among the pieces of movable art that were restored are the entrance screen at Santa Engracia, the pulpit screens, and the organ. The ornate pulpit screens were carved by José Ortiz, a master craftsman from Tudela, who was working in Olite at that time on projects for the Franciscan and Antonian churches. Ortiz was paid 400 reales for both pulpit screens. However, the following year, in 1763, Miguel de Zufía, an architect and sculptor from Larraga who was living in Olite, added decorative carvings and “ Structures,” for which he was paid 386 reales—a sum that reflects the importance and “ Issue ” of the additions. Both pulpit screens were gilded by the painter Andrés de Lavega in 1764.

As for the royal gallery, which was dismantled in 1934, we know what it looked like from a photograph taken around 1915 by Francisco Xavier Parés of the Catalan Hiking Center (CEC). We know the history of that structure very well: it stemmed from the parish leaders’ desire to beautify and repaint the church, as they viewed the old gallery as an eyesore “because it was made of earth and very old, so that anyone entering the church was struck by how unsightly the gallery appeared.” It was almost certainly a work of stucco, most likely dating from the Middle Ages, and its state of deterioration and wear led them to describe it as made of earth. The new gallery, which appears in the photo, was commissioned by the Court of Auditors and the master sculptor and architect Miguel Zufía in 1762, with Manuel Espinosa overseeing the masonry work. project ’s plan called for the removal of the two old galleries and their complete replacement, including the flooring of both with eight planks of coral pine. The gilding and polychromatic decoration were commissioned from the master craftsman Manuel del Rey of Tafalla on September 15, 1765. Among the required specifications were: the overall cleanliness of the structure, its masonry work, gilding and burnishing in certain areas, and green paint for other exterior sections, while the interior was to be painted white. For the balusters, oil-based blue paint was chosen; the pilasters were to be marbled; and the knobs and corncobs were to be gilded. The “coat of arms of this Kingdom” was to be depicted in the two ovals, although it appears that, in the end, the coat of arms of the Spanish monarchy was chosen, with those of Castile and Aragon and Navarre featured on the shield. “An eye-catching ornament” was to be painted on the lower plaster base .

 
Royal gallery in the parish church of Santa María de Olite, by F. Xavier Parés of the Catalan Hiking Center, c. 1915. Private collection

The current configuration of the interior space of the cathedral is largely a consequence of the intervention carried out in the post-war period, between 1940 and 1946, when it was decided to remove the choir from the central nave and the altarpiece from the presbytery, thus creating a historical faux pas with the placement of the choir stalls in the chancel and the location of the presbytery in the plenary session of the Executive Council Wayside Cross of the Gothic nave.

We have already addressed that entire process on several occasions, so here we will simply offer a few brief reflections. Among the underlying causes of that intervention—which we now consider highly questionable—some date back a long time, while others are more recent. Among the former, certain actions by Bishop Juan Lorenzo Irigoyen y Dutari (1768–1778) stand out, such as his desire to expand the main chapel or his refusal to give the blessing from his seat in the choir. Shortly after his death, the Academic style took hold with the construction of the façade, designed by Ventura Rodríguez and Santos Ángel de Ochandátegui. Upon completion of that façade, in 1800, Rodríguez proposed to the church council the removal of the choir and other minor renovations that, for the time being, remained in the “ file ” (drafts and plans), but were by no means forgotten. Everything he proposed harmonized plenary session of the Executive Council with the ideas set forth in*Reflections on Architecture, Ornamentation, and Music in the Temple*(Madrid, 1785), a work by Gaspar de Molina y Saldívar, Marquis of Ureña—an architect, engineer, painter, poet, and traveler from Cádiz during the Enlightenment.

The immediate causes can be traced to the liturgical movement of the middle decades of the 20th century and to the trends toward “restoration of style” that took hold after the Civil War. We know nothing about the “ project ” commissioned by Bishop Tomás Muñiz Pablos (1928–1935) from architect Francisco Iñiguez. 

 
Interior of the cathedral. Photo by file . Mas, published in the *Biblioteca Selecta de Arte Español* in 1924

Once the civil war was over, other plans drawn up by the cathedral benefice holder Don Onofre Larumbe—and supported by other advisors—did indeed influence Bishop Marcelino Olaechea, who treated the matter as a top priority and his own personal responsibility. In fact, the cathedral chapter delegated everything to the bishop and his secretary, Don Santos Beguiristáin. Regarding the winds of liturgical renewal, we must recall Manuel González García’s book,*Arte y Liturgia* (*Art and Liturgy*), which went through several editions beginning in 1932 and had a significant influence in ecclesiastical circles. His ideas exemplify the artistic-liturgical “ speech ” of Spain during the first third of the 20th century. In addition to González García’s work, we must consider the proposals of the aforementioned Onofre Larumbe— manager of the highly controversial project at Roncesvalles—and of the Benedictine monk from Montserrat, Andreu Ripoll, who corresponded with Bishop Olaechea. This monk, who had been educated in Germany, specialized in liturgy and was the driving force behind the remodeling of the aforementioned Catalan abbey. In his 1939 * report *, Onofre Larumbe called for the removal of the choir and the main altarpiece. The latter was to be replaced by the late-Gothic altarpiece by the Caparroso family, under the pretext of harmonizing it with the overall ensemble.

There was no shortage of tension among the experts, particularly with the relevant state authorities from the Heritage Protection Service—Manuel Chamoso Lamas, commissioner of the third zone, and Francisco Íñiguez, general commissioner of that service—who assessed the plan very negatively. Chamoso described the action as a “fundamental error” and strongly protested the removal of the main altarpiece, advocating for “prudent guidance.” 

Meanwhile, Francisco Íñiguez, having learned of Chamoso’s opinion, expressed his full agreement, while also voicing his complaint about the lack of leadership, the chaos caused by “fifty different opinions and viewpoints,” and the poor impression and example being set in Navarre and beyond. In his letter to Bishop Olaechea, he concluded harshly with this paragraph, in which he hinted at his resignation: “Our organization is necessary, but if you do not wish to—or feel you should not—recognize its authority, it is useless. I have already statement this to the General Director of Fine Arts, asking him that, if the matter is not resolved shortly, he relieve me of a responsibility I cannot accept because it is impossible to fulfill.”

In a letter addressed by the bishop to Íñiguez on June 22, 1940, he argued regarding the ownership of the Church’s works, describing the Church as a “perfect and sovereign society in the management and care of its assets”—phrases that today sound, to say the least, grandiose. He also asked him not to resign for having removed the main altarpiece, since “no one is going to hold it against you as a lack of zeal. You have done everything you could to express your sorrow and your protest. No one could be a more welcome replacement for you, nor more useful to the Church. Carry on, for we have many good things to do together in Navarre, even though we have not reached a “ agreement ” on the matter of our altarpiece, the removal of which everyone continues to praise.”

The mediation of the Marquis of Lozoya, the proposal for Yárnoz to position charge of the works, together with the transfer of competencies from the General Administration to the recently created Institución Príncipe de Viana, made it possible to finish the works with a certain degree of calm. The canons and the bishop accepted the placement of the second order of the choir stalls in the presbytery, as well as the conservation of the grilles.

The work was completed without an over project ; rather, it was guided by shifting criteria—albeit supposedly in order to highlight the medieval portion of the cathedral—even if it meant sacrificing all its ornamentation and leaving the interior of the cathedral looking like a devastated church or one through which revolutionary troops had passed in late 18th-century France. 

With the current intervention criteria, one can only regret the suppression of the Wayside Cross space, as well as the elimination of elements so typical of Hispanic cathedrals, such as the main altarpiece - visual, ritual and spiritual piece - and the choir, which was part of the space of the medieval temple itself. 

The main chapel of Pamplona Cathedral before its restoration. Postcard published by E. Rubio in Pamplona

The magazine *La Avalancha* is, without a doubt, one of the primary visual sources for the study of numerous buildings, town centers, images, altarpieces, customs, inaugurations, and notable figures. Furthermore, its editors did not limit themselves to publishing the photographs; they routinely included commentary on them, which is often of great value to readers and scholars alike. In 1914, the magazine published a brief, almost un data d interior view of the San Nicolás parish church in Pamplona. Undoubtedly, this was done to highlight the major projects that had been undertaken on the building—not only on the exterior but also on the interior—including the construction of the main altarpiece (1905) and the enormous pulpits (1914), which were among the most visible and notable projects. According to the explanatory text, these were “major works of decoration and beautification.” 

A small-format copy of the photograph (8.5 x 7.5 cm), on monochrome paper, is preserved in the photo archive of the Pamplona Municipal “ file .” It was taken by Luis Catalán de Ocón. The photo shows the two side altars dedicated to Saint Mauro and Saint Eloy as they stood prior to the parish’s most recent major renovation, attached to the pillars at the entrance to the main chapel. Likewise, one of the statues that once presided over the front walls of the Church of Our Lady of the Assumption ( Wayside Cross)—on the Epistle side, dedicated to Saint Blaise, a Baroque work from the second third of the 18th century—is partially visible; sculptures from confiscated churches had been added to it. All the stonework of the altarpiece is currently located in the parish church of Mendillorri, where it was moved in 1995, without the statues, without taking into account that some of them had a highly significant historical presence and served as a living record of specific events.

Likewise, on the buttress of the “ Wayside Cross ” one can see a noble “ report ” featuring a coat of arms surmounted by a crown, along with the “ topic ” of the Annunciation, which, as is well known, was the second patron saint of the parish of San Nicolás; for this reason, a large relief depicting that “ topic ” appeared on the former main altarpiece, now in Ciga. 

 
Presbytery of the Parish of San Nicolás in Pamplona, c. 1906, Photo by Roldán e Hijo. file Parish Church of San Nicolás

One of the most surprising aspects of the photograph is the presence of the altarpiece of Saint Babil, which, in the early 20th century, adorned the side wall of the chapel on the Epistle side at the chancel of the church. The piece, along with the stone tombstone that still stands there, came from the saint’s chapel, which was commissioned by the prior of Pamplona Cathedral, Don Juan de Echálaz y Liédena, in 1667. As we have noted, this chapel was located in the space now occupied by the “ entrance ” leading to the church along Paseo Sarasate. The chapel and altarpiece belonged to Don Juan de Echálaz y Liédena, a doctor of both civil and canon law, who was elected canon in 1626, chanter in 1646, and prior in 1652. He died in 1670 and belonged to the Beamont faction of the cathedral chapter. He lived through difficult times, having to face various legal proceedings; among his donations was a large silver “ source ” in 1668. 

The altarpiece of San Babil, which disappeared many decades ago, was very simple. Structurally, it consisted of a base with corbels on either side, a single main section supported by columns with fluted shafts, and an attic between wing-like projections, topped by a triangular pediment. Notable features of the piece included both the decoration of large cactus-shaped panels and the two large coats of arms bearing the patron’s family crests, placed on the attic in line with the columns. In the niche of the main body stood a full-length carving of Saint Babil, wearing his episcopal insignia and in the act of blessing. Aesthetically, it followed archaic models, with hardly any movement, in keeping with earlier sculptures and others from the late 17th century, such as the carving of Saint Martin from Pamplona Cathedral—the former patron saint of the altarpiece and now housed in the Diocesan Museum. In the attic, the photograph offers a glimpse of a trompe-l’œil depicting a Marian image.

Regarding the choice of the patron saint, it should be noted that Saint Babil of Antioch was the subject of two apocryphal accounts in Navarre: one depicting him as the bishop of Pamplona and a monk of Leire, and another identifying him as a native of Cascante. In most cases, no distinction is made between the two versions, and he was invoked as the advocate and protector of the lame and those suffering from rheumatism. According to Pérez Goyena, he is part of a group of “fantastic saints” whose hagiographic sources can be found in certain chronicles. During the Arab invasion, he is said to have retreated to Odón, near Madrid, where he was martyred alongside his disciples. Indeed, some devotional prints depict him in this final scene of his life—that of his martyrdom. The city of Cascante has venerated him for centuries, and in the parish of San Jorge de Tudela, he was the patron of a powerful brotherhood founded in 1711. Other towns in Navarre, such as Falces, Puente la Reina, Artajona, and Sangüesa, also held special festivals and commemorations in his honor. Statues and paintings of him can be found in many other towns in Navarre, including Tafalla, Jacoisti, Alzórriz, Itoiz, Guerendiain, Lumbier, Ezcániz, Zunzarren, Erroz, Eguiarreta, Corella, and Mendigorría.

Interior of the San Nicolás Parish Church in Pamplona in 1914, by Luis Catalán de Ocón. Photo archive of the Pamplona Municipal file

The main altarpiece of the parish church of Miranda occupies a prominent place in the history of Baroque altarpiece art in Navarre and in the artistic career of its creator, José de San Juan y Martín, as it was the first major work he undertook in a more staff manner. It was studied in detail by Professor Pedro L. Echeverría Goñi. It is presided over by Saint Benedict, the parish’s patron saint until 1893, when the parish’s dedication was changed to the Assumption—one of the rare examples of a change in parish patronage in Navarre.

He was commissioned by the aforementioned José de San Juan y Martín (1672–1722) in October 1696, when the master was 24 years old, to carry out the work in the city of Tudela within four years, for the substantial sum of 1,500 ducats. In 1702, a new contract ( agreement ) was signed for the construction of the base. The piece was fully completed in November 1703, when it was inspected by Juan de Bastida and Martín García, architects from Tudela and Pamplona, who approved it, noting that the improvements that had been made to the altarpiece had been very useful. 

We know that the altarpiece, having been dismantled, was transported from Tudela to Miranda de Arga in fourteen shipments, driven by wagoners from Caparroso and Cascante. The polychromy of the piece was commissioned in 1711 from Domingo del Rey, a member of a dynasty of gilders from Tafalla, which included his son Manuel, who worked in the second half of the century for the same parish in Miranda de Arga. 

The personality of José de San Juan—whose sons were eventually ennobled within the Military Order of Calatrava—is remarkable for the extensive activities he undertook until his death in Tudela in 1722. He was commissioned by important institutions such as the cathedrals of Calahorra and Pamplona, the Chapel of San Fermín in the latter city, and prominent towns such as Calahorra, Alfaro, Arnedo, Navarrete, Entrena, Alfaro, Haro, and Logroño in La Rioja, as well as Corella, Miranda de Arga, Cárcar, Mendigorría, Tafalla, Azagra, and Ujué—often leaving him insufficient time to complete the works he had in progress.

If we compare a contemporary photograph of the main altarpiece with the postcard shown here, there haven’t been many changes, but they are worth noting. The new feature in the current view is the image of St. Francis Xavier, which was replaced in 1920 by the one donated by Fernando Echegoyen, nicknamed “the Filipino.” This detail is essential for dating the postcard photograph we discussed to before that date.

That replacement of the Baroque statue with a nondescript sculpture was not the only one. The causes must be sought in the context of the fervor surrounding St. Ignatius of Loyola that prevailed in the early decades of the 20th century in his native Navarre. In 1904, the Navarrese saint was named patron of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith; in 1922, Benedict XV declared a jubilee year to mark the three-century anniversary of his canonization; and shortly thereafter, in 1927, Xavier was named patron of all missions. The Bishop of Pamplona, Friar José López y Mendoza, designated December 3 as a feast day to be observed in 1918. The same prelate also published an order in the diocesan bulletin * bulletin * mandating the celebration of the Novena of Grace in all churches throughout the diocese. In 1926, the new bishop, Mateo Múgica, prescribed that at the end of the Rosary, the Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be be recited for the missions, entrusting this intention to Saint Francis Xavier.

But it is not just the altarpiece that deserves our attention in this photograph; the paintings that framed it are equally worthy of examination. The systematic destruction, over the past century or more, of the sets of mural paintings that once flanked the main altarpieces in many churches has deprived us of a detail that is highly Pass for arousing wonder and curiosity.  In 18th-century paintings, there was almost always a figure lifting the dense latticework of a window in a bay window or balcony—with its dynamic gate—in a true trompe-l’œil, peering down from the top of the vaults, leaving the viewer wondering whether the figure was real or fictional. One such example survives in the San Francisco de Viana complex, a work by the celebrated Francisco del Plano from the second decade of the 18th century, long renowned for his perspective. Another similar, though smaller, example once existed in Miranda de Arga but has since disappeared; it had been created by Pedro Antonio de Rada and José and Manuel del Rey around 1760. José María Iribarren states the following about it in his well-known work *De Pascuas a Ramos* (Pamplona, 1946): “In this church, on the left wall, a lattice-work viewing window is painted. The balcony consists of three windows, and through the lattice on the right—which is raised—peeks out the head and part of the torso of a curious little man, whom the people of Miranda say gazes in all directions. The people of Miranda are very proud of this painting, and they show it to visitors with the same enthusiasm with which the people of Burgos point out the Papamoscas contraption. For their part, the women use the peeping man to scare the children (“The man is watching you!”) and ensure they behave properly in the house of God.”

Other examples of this same “ topic ” can be found in the Chapel of El Pilar in Calahorra and inside the Convent of San Francisco in Viana, in paintings created by the great Aragonese master Francisco del Plano during the early decades of the 18th century. The scenic design featuring the “ topic ” of the “asonado” was a great success, as evidenced by two examples in the parish church of Iturmendi, painted by Andrés Mata in 1784; although these lack the latticework, they still evoke in the viewer the same curiosity as the previously mentioned examples.

This high-quality postcard is signed by A. Muro Logroño, who is Alberto Muro Belloso (1870–1945), one of La Rioja’s most renowned photographers. He took countless portraits, but he also focused his goal on landscapes and monuments with great skill, sharpness, and clarity. He worked for the Thomas phototype company in Barcelona and for Hauser Menet. A large issue of postcards depicting Logroño and its province—which circulated during the heyday of postcards in Spain, between 1900 and 1920—were produced by his camera. The postcard was created using a procedure photomechanical process, most likely based on a monochrome gelatin-on-glass negative.

 
Postcard of the main altarpiece at the parish church in Miranda de Arga, by La Rioja photographer Alberto Muro Belloso, c. 1920. Pamplona Municipal file

This photograph of the old parish church in Murchante, taken by Nicolás Salinas (1873–1954), shows us sample the interior of the church before it was demolished in the middle of the last century—specifically in 1952—when the new building was inaugurated on the site of the old one. The negative is preserved in the Tudela Municipal file (digitization no. 40794) and is dated September 1905.

sample A simple, single-nave floor plan with a semicircular apse and three bays, each covered by Gothic-style vaults. The building was erected on the site of the former mosque, by royal decree in 1516. In 1527, work was underway on the church with the support of the vicar, Don Miguel Serrano, who had been appointed by the dean, Don Pedro Villalón. The church must have been completed by 1544, when the Renaissance-style main altarpiece was commissioned; however, it has not survived. An initial commission was awarded to the painter Pedro de Miranda, although a second and final commission was entrusted to the sculptor Antón Erpin and the painter Rafael Juan de Monzón. The side walls were opened up in the 17th century to create chapels for the town’s specific devotions, such as San Roque, Cristo de la Siembra, and others.

The photograph shows u sample t another Baroque main altarpiece that replaced the previous one, commissioned from the renowned Francisco Gurrea y García in 1696 by the town’s patrons with the intention that it serve “for the use and adornment of the said church.” It is presided over by the image of the Assumption, the parish’s patron saint, a work by the Tudela sculptor José Ortiz Mayor from 1762, who agreed to carve it for the sum of 140 ducats.

As in other towns, the walls at the altarhead, on either side of the altarpiece, are adorned with hangings. Likewise, the presbytery is separated from the rest of the nave by a railing leave or communion rail. A simple pulpit and a bench with a latticework railing, reserved for municipal officials, complete the view of the parish church, which has no pews whatsoever—not even kneelers—most likely because the few that were there were removed for the photo shoot.

 
Interior of the former parish church of Murchante, from a photograph by Nicolás Salinas, 1905. Tudela Municipal file

If there is one church in Navarre that has changed its appearance—and even its entire interior—it is the monastery of San Benito de Estella. Furthermore, we have photographs that document the substantial renovations it underwent throughout the 20th century, until the nuns left their historic home and moved to the Basilica of Le Puy in 1971.

Until the early 20th century, the church—with its upper and lower choirs, its decoration, and its ornamental elements, altarpieces, and pulpit—had been preserved as it was in the 17th century. The church had been built in the unadorned proto-Baroque style, thanks to the generosity of the Benedictine bishop of Pamplona, Friar Prudencio de Sandoval, who rebuilt the monastery between 1616 and 1619, with di project on from the diocesan overseer Francisco Fratín, while the actual construction was carried out un position tion of the master builder, Juan Arana. 

Its main altarpiece was created in 1649 by the sculptor Juan Imberto III, who was paid 1,020 ducats for the work. Miguel de Brevilla was commissioned to paint the polychrome decoration between 1680 and 1681, despite an attempt by the painter Francisco de Arteta to secure the contract. The church featured a pair of side altars dedicated to the Virgin of Horta (or of the Gardens) and to Saint Joseph. A few minor renovations were carried out on the complex that had little impact on its overall appearance, such as the general whitewashing in 1829 and the installation of the iron pulpit with its sounding board. In 1867, the entire complex was repainted, and in 1880, the railing of the communion rail was replaced. 

The first major renovation, a little over a century ago, involved the painting and the richly decorated dome, carried out between 1913 and 1914, which we know primarily from photographs. That project was carried out on a “ position ” basis by the same artists who worked on the Church of the Poor Clares in Estella: Juan Ros and his son José María. Undoubtedly, the Ros family served as the contractors, and the novelty lies in the participation of Genaro Urrutia—most likely Genaro Urrutia Olarán (Plencia, 1893 – Bilbao, 1965), a muralist and landscape painter who trained at the Bilbao School of Arts and Crafts before earning scholarships from the Provincial Council of Biscay to fill in pursue his programs of study in Paris and Rome. To fund that project, the nuns had to sell the large brocade tapestry, brought from Granada, which had been used to cover all the walls of the church on major feast days and was created between 1690 and 1693. It was sold in 1914 to pay for the church’s painting, for the sum of 7,011 pesetas.

The church took on a new appearance during the era of liturgical reforms— plenary session of the Executive Council t the beginning of the 20th century, specifically in 1958, before the Second Vatican Council. A full decade ahead of schedule, both the Benedictine nuns of Lumbier and those of Estella undertook changes in their churches, consisting primarily of placing the altar under a baldachin in the Wayside Cross and the lower choir in part of the church’s nave. The Benedictines of Montserrat were no strangers to these developments. In the case of Estella, which is the focus of this discussion, the chronology of these interconnected events is truly paradigmatic. 

Decisions regarding the removal of the altarpieces had to be made on an almost daily basis. In the end, the main altarpiece was spared, and the work continued until the building was stripped bare—with the removal of all ornamentation and iconographic elements, simplification, the relocation of the choir to the church’s main nave, and the construction of the baldachin beneath the “ Wayside Cross ” with the new altar. One of the transept arms was reserved for the tabernacle, an extraordinary silver piece in the form of a two-part temple dating from the early 17th century. Above it, resting on a pedestal, would be placed Our Lady of Horta, now without her sumptuous silver crown. 

The renovated church was inaugurated with the consecration of the altar, just a few days after the death of Pius XII and the election of John XXIII as pope. The ceremony took place on November 9, 1958, with the attendance s of Miguel Gortari, vice president of the Provincial Council, and Deputy Velasco, and presided over by the abbot of Silos, Father Isaac María Toribios.

The main altarpiece, in the end—likely at the direction of the Príncipe de Viana Institution—was not sold and remained at the front of the church, without an altar or a tabernacle, until 1971, when, after the nuns moved to their new monastery in what had once been the Piarist residency program , it was transferred to the monastery of Leire, which had been acquired by the Provincial Council.

 
Interior of the church at the Monastery of San Benito de Estella, c. 1950. file Benedictinas de Estella

In 1916, the Provincial Council of Navarre commissioned the renowned file Mas to produce a major photo essay featuring the principal monuments that, at that time, were considered essential to the history of the Old Kingdom of Navarre; it was titled *Album iconográfico del Reino*. The Mas Photographic file was founded by Adolfo Mas Ginestá (1861–1936), a photographer with extensive connections in the artistic circles of the time, who received commissions from national and international institutions.

In front of the large cluster of medieval buildings—among the few from the Baroque period that were photographed—there are several snapshots of the parish church of Los Arcos. We will focus on one of them, in which the “ goal ” stopped in front of the chancel with the main altarpiece; and, as a historical record of the highest order, we will examine two aspects that catch the eye upon close observation: the veils in front of the Marian images and, finally, the town council benches; as patrons of the parish, they had their seats in two opposing choirs, which disappeared around 1972. The placement of certain sculptures would also be worth analyzing, since our current perception of the images and altarpieces differs from that of past centuries. Once constructed, due to changing fashions, shifting aesthetic tastes, and devotional considerations, some of their elements were altered and their images were moved to different locations, thereby changing the order of interpretation with which they had originally been conceived. In this case, the reader can verify the iconographic changes by comparing the image with a contemporary photograph.

When writing a “ topic ” about the cultural heritage of Los Arcos, one must always turn to Víctor Pastor Abaigar’s “ programs of study ”—not only to what he has written, but also to the insights he shares with us, which speak to his generosity.

The photograph takes us back to the presbytery during the Ancien Régime, when the local regiment held the parish’s “ board of trustees ” and, therefore, enjoyed the rights inherent to that title, including special seats within railings—in this case, two choirs on either side of the main chapel, immediately adjacent to its railing and communion rail. Alejandro Aranda has recently published (2021) a detailed monograph on the significance of this “ subject ” (set of pieces) and its location within the church. The decision to construct this entire ensemble—now incomplete—was made by the parish “ board of trustees ” in 1791. This is attested to by various unpublished records that we have found in notarial protocols and in two cases litigated in the Royal Courts.

It all began when it was decided to remodel the presbytery’s “ area ” and reduce its size to make more room for the congregation. A plan devised by Lorenzo Solano, the master builder of Los Arcos, in 1791—with recommendations from the diocesan master builder Simón de Larrondo and the ironworker Lázaro de Gárriz—was put out to bid. The “ project ” included work on the new flooring and the railings for the communion rail, the side aisles, and the area designated for the regiment and its pews, as patrons of the parish church. The contract was awarded to master craftsman Pedro José Lezáun of Estella, who, obviously, had to subcontract all work related to the railings and their balusters to two master craftsmen from Estella specialization program —Bernardo Ros and Joaquín Gabiría, both also from Estella. 

While the work was still unfinished, the parish trustees—who had always been eager over the centuries to provide the most and the best for the church—entered into a new contract with the aforementioned Lezáun to replace the iron in the pilasters and handrails with gilded brass, reserving iron only for the balusters and other less visible parts. To justify this decision, they argued before the diocesan authorities that if everything were made of iron, it would lack the splendor found in certain railings at Pamplona Cathedral and other public places. 

The two blacksmiths from Estella had to apply for hire a brassworker and boilermaker based in Pamplona—a Frenchman named José Marcout who had settled in the Magdalena neighborhood—to carry out the work. When word of this reached Los Arcos—and, worse still, that the Frenchman had been paid less than the agreed-upon amount—several disputes arose between the board of trustees and the craftsmen themselves.

 
The altar area of the parish church of Los Arcos in 1916. Photo: file Mas. file Royal and General of Navarre

Throughout the 20th century, some landmark buildings disappeared due to various circumstances, such as their dilapidated condition, the loss of their use and function, speculation regarding their developable land, and a lack of space. Fortunately, some photographs serve as a testament to those lost factories. 

The current church was built based on plans drawn up by architect Lino place in 1916, partly due to damage caused by the major floods of 1913, but according to the report of its parish priest, Don Mauricio Berecochea, because it had already “become insufficient due to the significant increase in the issue of the town’s population.” With a total budget ( budget ) of 755,655 pesetas and contributions from numerous residents—including 120,000 pesetas from Don Braulio Iriarte, 200,000 from Doña Martina Aguirre, and 100,000 from an anonymous parishioner—the building was erected between 1917 and 1922, It was solemnly consecrated in 1925 by Nuncio Federico Tedeschini, together with the Bishop of Pamplona and the outgoing Bishop of Oviedo, in a lengthy ceremony lasting five hours.

Like other churches in the Baztán valley, the Elizondo church was built in the 16th century, at a time when some of the stonemasons living there were at the forefront of new architectural solutions, with the assimilation of theory and treatises. One of them, perhaps the most important B, was Juan de Garaicoechea y Oiz, neighbor of Elizondo and studied by Mª J. Tarifa, who has pointed out how he crossed the borders of his valley and left in the main chapel of the parish of Lerín (1591) a work A within the Navarrese panorama of the time, where the concha avenerada that turns over its main chapel, similar to the one he would carry out a few years later in Garzain, stands out.

Elizondo’s documentation tells us that his parish church, located at what is now place, was built by a local family of stonemasons. In 1587, Juan Martínez de Leizagoyen commissioned the continuation of the construction work that his father, Juan de Leizagoyen, had already begun. It was a simple structure, consisting of a single nave and Wayside Cross with the choir at the apse, to which a large chapel was later added on the Gospel side. Its exterior was distinguished by a beautiful, slender stone tower of classical design, which was funded by an anonymous donor and built by José Poudez, an architect from the French town of Pau who was very active in northern Navarre over the course of three decades, between 1775 and the early 19th century, on such landmark projects as the new hospital and the priory house of the collegiate church of Roncesvalles, the parish church of Zugarramurdi, the monastery of Urdax, and the Estebecorena or Istecorena house in Elizondo. 

The contracts for the construction of the tower, signed in 1780, are very rich for everything related to prices and the quarries for the extraction of the stone, its carving and transportation, with agreements with different stonemasons and carters, who were to bring the ashlars to the site. The cost of the work amounted to 2,600 pesos at 8 reales and 36 maravedís per real. Although the deadline of execution was set for the end of 1781, the cancellation of the obligation by the parties was not signed before the notary until February 1784.

The apse was adorned with an 18th- plenary session of the Executive Council r main altarpiece, which was replaced within twelve years. The shift in mindset—and, consequently, in the artistic development —that took place in the second half of the 18th century, with the imposition of models linked to academicism, can be seen in some works from that period, particularly in Elizondo’s main altarpieces, where the Rococo style was replaced by one with distinct classical lines within a dozen years.

The first of these was commissioned in 1762 from Silvestre Soria, the leading master of the Rococo period in Navarre, who trained in the workshop of the Royal Palace (or New Palace) in Madrid under Juan Domingo Olivieri. The patron of the project in this case was Don Ambrosio Agustín de Garro, a native of Baztan who had settled at the court in Madrid as treasurer to the Infante Don Luis Antonio Jaime and a Knight of the Order of Santiago. A few years later—barely a dozen years had passed—and for reasons that can only be attributed to aesthetics and changing tastes, a new main altarpiece was commissioned between 1775 and 1777 to replace the one created between 1762 and 1763, once again under the patronage of the same family. The most likely reason was the creation of the main altarpiece at Irurita, designed in a thoroughly neoclassical style by José Hermosilla in 1770, under the watchful eye of Don José Ignacio Goyeneche and the Royal Academy of San Fernando. 

Poudez subcontracted the polychromatic painting of the ensemble to Juan Francisco Santesteban, a gilder from Pamplona, in June 1776, after he had already completed it, specifying that the gold was to be of the finest quality, sourced from Pamplona or Paris. In addition to the main figure of Saint James on horseback with the Moors at the bottom, the altarpiece featured sculptures of Saints Ambrose, Augustine, Nicholas, and Fermín—the names of the work’s patrons. The altarpiece disappeared around 1917.

The photograph we present here is a postcard sold by G. Marín de Elizondo’s local shop in the early 20th century, sample , showing the interior of the church on All Souls’ Day or during its novena, with everything set up to sing the funeral dirge with absolution at the catafalque—the structure visible in front of the altar, next to the communion rail. But it is the entire floor of the church nave, from the choir loft down, that catches the eye, as it is covered with family tombs adorned with offerings of candles and bread. As is well known, in traditional society, the grave was considered an extension of the family home. It was located in the church and was known by the names “fosa ” or “fuesa.” The aforementioned offerings were placed on the grave, which was covered with a shroud—usually black—upon which were arranged a holder for candles or torches, or for the match wound around the “argizaiola,” a small basket, and a kneeler. 

 
Interior of the old parish church in Elizondo on All Souls' Day, in the early 20th century. Postcard sold by G. Marín of Elizondo. Private collection

The Visitation Sisters arrived in Pamplona on February 25, 1881, with nuns from the second monastery in Madrid, where Juana Baleztena, a native of Navarre, had gone for her formation; her family had spearheaded the establishment of the order in the Navarrese capital. In the early years, they resided at the Dominican convent on Jarauta Street and later moved to San Francisco Street, where they acquired the palace of Viceroy Armendáriz—also known as the Casa del Reino—and other buildings. The convent was built (1900–1902) based on plans by architect Florencio de Ansoleaga, followed by the church, dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and consecrated by the Archbishop of Zaragoza, Juan Soldevila y Romero, in 1905. After more than a century of very active and fruitful work in spreading devotion to the Sacred Heart—through institutions such as the Guard of Honor—the nuns joined the community of their order in Vitoria in the summer of 2003.

If any convent church of a women’s cloistered community played a central role in major religious services—primarily those centered on the Sacred Heart of Jesus—in 20th-century Pamplona, it was that of the Salesas, consecrated in 1905 and which closed its doors in 2003. Reports in the local press—during events such as the novena of St. Francis de Sales, the Feast of the Sacred Heart, or the Carnival triduum—provide a perfect account of the significance of this monastery within a very specific context, as well as of the finest preachers who stood at its pulpit.

The excellent convent chronicle provides data a comprehensive subject account of its construction, financing, and decoration. In the late 19th century, when the Visitation Sisters had already been at their first location—the Dominican convent on Jarauta Street—for nearly twenty years, the community received a very substantial sum of money from María Angélica Castanedo on the day of her profession in 1897. The handwritten text states that she was not only a benefactor of the community, adding that since quite a few years had passed since the foundation , “we do not bestow upon her the ‘ degree scroll ’ of founder, although she could well deserve it, for on the occasion of her holy profession, she made a substantial donation to the community with which it was finally possible to establish a regular monastery; without this assistance, such a great ‘ business’ could not have been carried out.” In 1899, the Salesian Sisters took numerous steps to acquire the buildings for the new monastery, in a year when Carlota Baleztena—the driving force behind the Pamplona foundation—was elected superior and the community consecrated itself to the Sacred Heart. Construction began in 1900; significant progress was made in 1901; in 1902, they moved into the new building, which was largely complete; and in 1904, they took possession of the second part of the monastery. The entire “ project ” was designed by the diocesan architect, Florencio de Ansoleaga, as was the church, which was consecrated in 1905 in the Neo-Gothic style. 

The consecration of the church by the Archbishop of Zaragoza, Don Juan Soldevila y Romero, took place on February 11, 1905. The newspaper article devotes several pages to its description, the artisans, the stained-glass windows, the dimensions, the donors of the various pieces… etc. The consecration rites are described with the fluency of a master of ceremonies, in every detail. The following year, coinciding with the unveiling of the main altarpiece on Ascension Day, the newspaper *La Avalancha* featured a photograph with commentary on the main altarpiece created by Don Florencio Istúriz alongside his sons Fermín and Ambrosio, as well as its central relief—a work by Messrs. Argües and Bernadas of Barcelona—which , “illuminated in a special way, on the altarpiece, produces a marvelous effect. Congratulations to the Salesas and to the ladies of the Honor Guard who have taken on the “ expense ” of the relief with a selflessness worthy of them.” The side altarpieces were completed in 1908; one was dedicated to the Visitation and the other to Saint Joseph. Both were funded largely by relatives of the nuns.

The excessive decoration featuring elaborate vases, sumptuous flower vases, and tibores is characteristic of a century ago, when solemn occasions were marked by lighting and ornamentation. The black-and-white photograph we present here belongs to the Municipal file y of Pamplona and was taken around December 28, 1922, when the feast of St. Francis de Sales was celebrated with full liturgical solemnity, including a novena preached by the Jesuit Marcelino Ereño.

 
Interior of the Las Salesas Church in Pamplona, consecrated in 1905, in a photograph from 1922. Pamplona Municipal file

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