tural position, it would have been able
to resist the attacks of Gudroed and Olaf, of the Portuguese noblemen
and of Arab armies, had it been but decently fortified. The lack of such
fortifications, however, and the neglect and indifference with which it
was, as a rule, regarded by the kings of Asturias, easily account for
its having fallen into the hands of enemies, of having been razed more
than once to the ground, of having been the seat of ambitious and
conspiring noblemen who were only bent on thrashing their neighbours,
Christians and infidels alike.

In the sixth century Tuy had already been raised to the dignity of a
city, but until after the eleventh century the prelates of the church,
tyrants when the times were propitious, but cowardly when danger was at
hand, were continually removing their see to the neighbouring villages
and mountains to the rear. They left their church with surprising
alacrity and ease to the mercy of warriors and enemies, to such an
extent, in fact, that neither are documents at hand to tell us what
happened exactly in the darker ages of mediaeval history, nor are the
existing monuments in themselves sufficient to convince us of the
vicissitudes which befell the city, its see, and the latter's flocks.

Since the last Arab and Norseman raid, matters seemed to have gone
better with fair Tuy, for, excepting the continual strife between
Portuguese and Galician noblemen, who were for ever gaining and losing
the city on the Mino, neither infidels nor pirates visited its wharves.
It was then that the foundations of the present cathedral were laid, but
not without disputes between the prelates (one of whom was taken
prisoner, and had to give a handsome ransom to be released) and the
noblemen who called themselves seigneurs of the city. Between the
claims and struggles of these two factions, those who suffered most were
the citizens themselves, who had nothing to gain and everything to lose.
Between the bishops who pretended to possess the whole city, and the
noblemen who endeavoured to leave the prelates without a groat, the
ignored inhabitants of the poorer quarters of the town passed a
miserable life.

Since the middle ages, or better still, since the time when the Mino
became definitely the frontier line between Spain and Portugal, the city
of Tuy has been heard of but little. Few art students visit it to-day,
and yet it is one of the most picturesquely situated cities in Galicia,
or even