r
columns divide its seven arches, while above them are trefoil and
quatrefoil penetrations contained within a segmental arch, broken by
carved heads. The fine old shafts, separating the trefoiled or
quatrefoiled arcade, are hidden by crocketed pinnacles and a traceried
balcony. The triforium east of the crossing has only four arches, with
much later traceried work above. The charming old simplicity is of
course lost wherever gaudy carving has been added, but the oldest
portions belong decidedly to the early Gothic work of northern France.
Above rises the clerestory in its early vigor, with comparatively small
windows, consisting of two arches and a rose.

Probably the crossing had originally a vault somewhat more elaborate
than the others, or, possibly, even a small lantern. To emphasize the
crossing, both internally and externally, was always a peculiar delight
to Spanish builders. This characteristic was admirably adapted to
Romanesque churches and in the Gothic was still felt to be essential,
but Burgos shared the fate of Seville and the new Cathedral of
Salamanca. The old writer, Cean Bermudez, relates that "the same
disaster befell the crossing of Burgos that had happened to Seville,--it
collapsed entirely in the middle of the night on the 3d of March, 1539.
At that time the Bishop was the Cardinal D. Fray Juan Alvarez de Toledo,
famous for the many edifices which he erected and among them S. Esteban
of Salamanca. Owing to the zeal of the Prelate and the Chapter and the
piety of the generous Burgalese, the rebuilding began the same year.
They called upon Maestro Felipe, who was assisted in the planning and
construction by Juan de Vallejo and Juan de Castanela, architects of the
Cathedral. Felipe died at Toledo, after completing the bas-reliefs of
the choir stalls. The Chapter honored his memory in a worthy manner, for
they placed in the same choir under the altar of the Descent from the
Cross this epitaph: 'Philippus Burgundio statuarius, qui ut manu
sanctorum effigies, ita mores animo exprimebat: subsellis chori
struendis itentus, opere pene absoluto, immoritur.'"[6]

In place of the old dome rose one of the most marvelous and richest
structures in Spain, a crowning glory to the heavenly shrine. It is at
once a mountain of patience and a burst of Spanish pomp and pride. It is
the labor of giants, daringly executed and lavishly decorated. "The work
of angels," said Philip II. Nothing less could have called forth