Chapter III: Appendix: Ii.--Cordova 100 (2)

With the triumph of San Fernando came the steady disintegration of the high civilisation of Cordova, and its history from the day of victory onwards is one both mournful and instructive. The expulsion of the Arab artisans was an error of policy which the more intelligent Cordovese quickly recognised, for soon after the restoration of the city into the hands of the Spanish sovereigns, many of the inhabitants proposed to request the king to permit six per cent. of the Moors to remain in Cordova. This petition was, however, lightly regarded by the Governor, and it does not appear to have come under the attention of Ferdinand. Later on, the citizens, finding that trade was rapidly declining, begged that a few aged Moors might be allowed to stay in the city, and to ply their trade of harness-makers.

The neglect of the staple industries of Cordova after the Christian reconstruction is an object-lesson upon the paralysis of the arts and crafts which characterises the Castilian influence during this period. It seems almost incredible that the Spaniards had forgotten the art of harness-making, or that the natives of Cordova refused to soil their fingers in any sort of labour. But what other inferences can be drawn from the proposed petitions that a small number of the Moriscos might be retained as mechanics? It appears evident that the only occupations deemed fitting for an Andalusian of that day were ecclesiastic or military. There was only the choice between the church and the army.

An observant traveller, the Chevalier de Bourgoanne, who made a tour of Spain in 1797, writes of the melancholy decay of Cordova. ‘In so fine a climate,’ says the Chevalier, ‘in midst of so many sources of prosperity, it (Cordova) contains no more than 35,000 inhabitants. Formerly celebrated for its manufactories of silks, fine cloths, etc., it has now no other industrious occupations but a few manufactories of ribbons, galoons, hats and baize.’

IV

THE BUILDING OF THE MOSQUE

When Abd-er-Rahman I. seized upon the citadel of the Gothic Christian kings, he found the Cordovese split up into various sects, such as the Gnostics, Priscillianists, Donatists, and Luciferians. These cults were, however, united in their detestation of the new creed of the East, which the victors sought to impose upon them. It is quite clear from the records of the more impartial Spanish historians, that the Sultan was a man of tolerant mould and a respecter of justice. His ambition was to erect a temple, which would rival in magnificence those of Baghdad, Jerusalem, and Damascus, and approach in sanctity to the fane of Mecca itself.

The Christian church in Cordova stood upon the site of the former Roman religious edifice dedicated to Janus, and upon this situation Abd-er-Rahman desired to rear his great mosque. Autocrat though he was, the monarch strove to maintain the conditions upon which the inhabitants had surrendered. He might have broken faith, and annexed the Christian building and the ground upon which it stood. But he honourably offered to buy the church and the plot from the conquered people. The negotiations of purchase were placed in the hands of the Sultan’s favourite secretary, Umeya Ibn Yezid.

At first the Christians refused to sell their cherished basilica, which had been divided into a temple of the faith of Christ and a fane for the worship of Allah. Here, in separate portions of the building, the conquerors and the conquered murmured their prayers and repeated their praises to their deities. How the Cordovese were induced to relinquish the church cannot be explained by any historical evidence that we are able to obtain from the writings of Arabians and Spaniards. Some authors have suggested that the Christians of Cordova were disheartened by adversity and the assaults of Islam upon their creed, and that they yielded to the suasion and counsels of Umeya Ibn Yezid, and sold their tabernacle to the invaders. At any rate it is manifest that Abd-er-Rahman won in the end, and that he was able to forward his project without showing violence to the natives of Cordova.

No doubt the Christians preferred to worship in their own buildings rather than to share the basilica with the infidels, and this preference may have influenced their spiritual leaders in meeting the request of the sultan and his agent. Under the terms of transference, the Cordovese were permitted to reconstruct the edifice formerly dedicated to St. Faustus, St. Januarius, and St. Marcellus, three martyrs whom they deeply revered. Immediately upon the conveyance of the church and its site to Abd-er-Rahman, the work of erecting the gorgeous mosque was begun with much enthusiasm and at the expenditure of huge sums of money. The Khalif was rich. Besides the treasure wrested from the Goths during the wars, he extracted a tithe upon the produce of the land and on manufactures. A tax was also laid upon every Christian and Jew in Andalusia. Beyond this, the Moorish kings were greatly enriched by the acquisition of the valuable mines of Spain, the quarries of marble, and other sources of wealth. From these revenues Abd-er-Rahman and his successors, Hisham, Abd-er-Rahman II., the greatest of the dynasty and the third of the line--and lastly, the extravagant Al-manzor--lavished heavy sums upon the designing, construction, and costly adornment of the Mosque.

The power of the first Khalif of Cordova was supreme and undisputed. He was the sole spiritual and temporal head of the people, ‘the Commander of the Faithful.’ Subservient to him were the _walis_ who ruled in the provinces. Abd-er-Rahman’s despotism made upon the whole for charity, tolerance, and justice. The accounts of his persecutions have been coloured by pious historians, and bear the stamp of a natural hostility to the conqueror and his religion. One or two of the more accurate Spanish writers assert that, at the most, only forty persons were martyred in Cordova under the Omeyyad sway; and, according to Morales, these victims sought persecution.

To court sufferings at the hands of the Moors was deemed a noble virtue in the breast of the devout Christians. We may recall the story of Santa Teresa of Avila, who, as a child, wandered from the city with her little brother to seek persecution in the country of the infidels. Whatever may be charged against the Khalifs of the family of Omeyya, it cannot be asserted that their policy after the conquest was one of tyrannous subjugation. They undoubtedly levied taxes and imposts upon the Goths, and confiscated their lands, after a campaign of destruction and aggression; but as victors they displayed magnanimity, and sought to heal the wounded spirit of the vanquished.

The attitude of Abd-er-Rahman I. towards the Christian population of Cordova was, therefore, clement and conciliatory. Under his sovereignty there dawned an age of prosperity and advancement. The work of building the resplendent Mezquita employed thousands of artisans and labourers. This vast undertaking led to the development of all the resources of the district. Durable stone and beautifully veined marbles were quarried from the Sierra Morena and the surrounding regions of the city. Metals of various kinds were dug from the soil, and factories sprang up in Cordova amid the stir and bustle of an awakened industrial energy. A famous Syrian architect made the plans for the Mosque. Leaving his suburban dwelling, the Khalif came to reside in the city, so that he might personally superintend the operations, and offer proposals for the improvement of the designs. We are told that Abd-er-Rahman moved about among the workers, directing them during several hours of every day. The monarch was growing old. It was the longing of his heart to witness the final achievement of his great scheme before death overtook him.

In planning the Mosque the architects incorporated a number of Roman columns with choice capitals. Some of the columns were already in the Gothic structure; others were sent from various quarters of Spain as presents from the governors of provinces. Ivory, jasper, porphyry, gold, silver, copper, and brass were used in the decorations. Marvellous mosaics and azulejos were designed. Panels of scented woods were fastened with nails of pure gold, and the red marble columns were said to be the work of God. The primitive part of the building, reared under the direction of Abd-er-Rahman I., was that bordering the Court of Oranges. Later, the immense temple embodied all the styles of Morisco architecture in one noble composition.

The first Khalif of Cordova did not survive to witness the completion of the Mosque. He died in the Alcazar long before the work was finished, and committed the task to his son Hisham. The prince carried on the work with zealous devotion. Upon his father’s death in 788, the building covered only a small part of the ground now occupied by the Mosque and its later additions. Hisham I. built the tower for the muezzin, and the fretted gallery for the women worshippers, and added much to the Zeca, or House of Purification, erected by Abd-er-Rahman.

The Court of Ablutions was laid out by the first Khalif, and occupied the ground of the present Court of Oranges. In constructing the Mosque, the founders adapted the basilica form of building to the new worship. During the Omeyyad dynasty the original building was constantly enlarged and improved, and fresh decorations were added up to the time of Almanzor. Each Khalif vied with his predecessor in beautifying the temple. The pristine building was finished ten years after the planning under Abd-er-Rahman I., that is, during the reign of Hisham I., who conducted the labour with the utmost expedition. Marbles of spotless white were chosen for the innumerable columns. Arrazi, an Arab writer, speaks of the valuable wine-coloured marble, obtained from the mountains of the district, which was much used in embellishing the naves of the Mosques of Cordova and Ez-Zahra.

The solemnity and beauty of the ceremonies in the House of Purification can only be imagined. Every day saw the celebration of the _tazamein_, or purification of the devout, before entering the holy structure, and six times daily the _alicama_, or call to prayer, was shouted by the muezzin from the summit of the minaret. No shoes were permitted to defile the sanctuary; the worshippers entered barefooted. From its sacred shadow all Jews were excluded, and restrictions guarded the approach of women, except the privileged royal brides.

The interior glittered with gold, silver, precious stones, mosaics, and hundreds of lamps of brass. By the side of the priest stood a mighty wax candle, and the scent of the burning aloes, ambergris, and perfumed oils in the lanterns drifted through the tangled arches of the long naves. Some of the brass lamps were made out of bells taken from Christian churches. The pulpit was seven years in the making. It was of ivory, ebony, sandal, aloe, and citron wood, with nails of gold and silver. Eight artists lavished their skill upon the designing and adorning of this pulpit. In the wondrous mih-rab the walls were of pure gold. A copy of the Koran in a gold case, set with pearls and rubies, was kept in the pulpit. It was taken away by Abu-Mohammed on one of his campaigns, and was finally lost to the faithful.

The building of the Mosque began in 785 or 786, and throughout the rule of the Omeyyad monarchs there were constant additions to the Zeca of Abd-er-Rahman I. As Cordova grew, and strangers flocked to the city from North Africa and Arabia, it was found necessary to provide a larger edifice for the worshippers. In the time of Abd-er-Rahman II., the House of Purification was enlarged by the addition of several aisles, two porches were added, and a new mih-rab was constructed. The columns were gilded at this period at the direction of the Sultan. During the reign of Mohammed I. the work was continued; the walls and portals were improved, and the maksurrah, or railed sanctum for the Khalif, was also built. The ruler attended the services in great pomp on Fridays, approaching the Mosque by an underground passage from his palace.

Hisham’s temple covered an area of 460 feet from north to south, and 280 feet from east to west. It was flanked by stout, fortified walls, with watch-towers and a tall minaret. The number of the outer gates was nine, and of the inner doors eleven. These doors led to the same number of naves within the Mosque. The court had spacious gates on the north, west, and east sides, and fountains for the purification of the pious. The naves were eleven in number, stretching from north to south, and these were crossed by twenty-one smaller naves running from east to west.

In the Mezquita of Cordova we see the first examples of the true Arabian architecture, whose purity was lost at a later date in the style of the Almohades. The Estilo Sarraceno, or earlier style of design and decoration, has an example in the beautiful Puerta del Perdon of the Mosque of Cordova. We learn that by the year 1282 the fashion in form and adornment had so greatly changed, that the Moors who then remained in the city appeared unable to follow the tradition of their craft in decorating the interior of the cathedral. Even in the reign of Almanzor, the specific style of the Arabs was giving place to less beautiful conceptions of line and decoration. Nevertheless, it is generally admitted that the Mosque is the finest example in Europe of the Moorish religious edifice. It maintains uniformity in the plan of its construction, while the dimensions are enormous, and the adornment elegant and characteristic of the art of Islam in the flower of its might and magnificence.

Abd-er-Rahman III. assumed his title of Khalif with the style of _En-Nāsir li-dīni-llāh_, ‘the Defender of the Faith of God,’ added to the Mosque a new tower, and renovated the ancient façade. The minaret contained two staircases, which were built for the separate ascent and descent of the tower. On the summit there were three apples, two of gold and one of silver, with lilies of six petals. The minaret is four-faced, with fourteen windows, having arches upon jasper columns, and the structure is adorned with splendid tracery.

Long before the final stages in the history of the Omeyyad builders, the Moslem temple of Cordova was deemed one of the greatest marvels of architecture in the world. The chroniclers and poets of the period unite in applauding the zeal of the sovereigns who expended such vast treasure in furthering the glory of Allah by the erection of this sumptuous and dazzling tabernacle. Abúlmothanne, the poet, wrote of the Mosque: ‘To it the pilgrims resort from all parts of the world, as if it were the sacred temple of Mekka. Indeed, its mih-rab, when examined, will be found to contain _rokn_ (angles) as well as _makárn_ (standing-place).’ And another singer proclaimed that the Mosque, which was consecrated to God, was ‘without equal in the world.’

Hakem II., Al-Mostansir-billáh, greatly increased the size of the building. This just and cultured ruler caused the construction of the third mih-rab, which was over four years in the making and rivalled all the previous work in this gorgeous part of the Mosque. The new sanctuary was crowned with a splendid cupola, and the marvellous mosaics of foseyfasa were introduced. Hakem also designed a fresh maksurrah for the Sultan, a space enclosed by an ornate wooden fence or screen, which was beautifully domed in the Byzantine style.

Hakem II. was not only occupied in extending and adorning the interior of the Mezquita. During his busy reign in Cordova, the immense library was enlarged by contributions of manuscripts upon all subjects, gathered from every part of the civilised nations. But the library, with its unique treasures of Oriental lore, and its works of science in many languages, was lost to the world upon the wrecking and downfall of the city. The fruit of Hakem’s devotion remains, however, in the most gorgeous and lovely embellishments of the Mosque. This Khalif also built an alms-house adjoining the temple, and quarters for the residence of the preachers and officials of the house of worship.

The style introduced by Hakem II. is seen in the Puerta Murada, in the holy mih-rab, and the part once occupied by the maksurrah. This sovereign delighted in rich colouring, in splendour and daring in the construction of delicate columns to heavy arches, and in the extension of the fantastic arched naves. He almost doubled the size of the Mezquita by the extensions on the south side.

Under Almanzor there was no slackening in the enthusiasm which the Omeyyad family exhibited in improving Cordova and extending and beautifying its famous House of Purification. The part added to the Mosque by Almanzor is that behind the altar, to the left, when entering by the Door of Pardon. The enlargement during this Khalif’s rule was towards the east. New rows of columns, numbering eight, were added, giving a fresh sense of vastness to the aisles and vistas of interlaced arches.

The great Mosque was completed in the time of Almanzor, and its completion was the presage of the decline of Arab power in Spain. In extent the building now measures 394 feet by 360 feet. Almanzor put the finishing touches to the work which Abd-er-Rahman I. began. For generations architects, designers, artists, masons, and metal-workers had lovingly toiled to produce a triumph of art.

The Mosque was finished. Almanzor sought to improve upon the designs and bewildering brilliance displayed in the labour of preceding reigns; but it is doubtful whether his endeavours heightened the splendour of the structure, or gave fresh lustre to the building that stood in the days of Hakem II. It is agreed among the authorities upon Moorish art that Almanzor’s contributions to the edifice show evidence of a decline in taste, and a waning of the æsthetic sense of the Arab-Byzantine schools of designers and craftsmen.

When Almanzor died, the Mosque was 742 feet in length from north to south, and 472 feet in width from east to west. It was encompassed by battlemented walls, with towers of irregular height. The south wall was the highest, and it had nineteen towers. The total number of the watch-towers was forty-eight, and the majority of these have survived.

In the stressful days when the Moorish colonisers sought to possess the whole of the Iberian Peninsula, Cordova was stoutly fortified, and the Mosque was protected by this unscalable wall. This barrier of stone is over six feet thick, and designed to withstand the most violent battering. The defences of the sanctuary are very picturesque; there is a subject for the painter at every tower and corner; but they are perhaps a little less wonderful than the grim walls of Avila, or the sombre parapets of brown Toledo. They are made of durable stone, which is marvellously preserved. Many times have these battlements shuddered at the shouts of the fierce besiegers and the determined defenders; often have their stones been stained with the blood of Goth and Moor.

To-day, in the shadow of the walls, we stroll and look upon the calm vistas, the plain, and the cold grey slopes of the sierras, and see the beggars shrinking from the blinding glare of the sun, prone upon the ground in their tatters, in the cool shelter which the tall towers yield. The Mosque dreams, as all things dream in ancient Spain. Its solid outer walls have defied the ravage of storms and wars. They remain weird monuments of Oriental strength, placid and somewhat mournful in their magnificent sufficiency.

V

IN THE COURT OF ORANGES

The Court of Oranges is shaded on one side by the oldest parts of the Mosque. It is much larger than the Orange Court, or Patio de los Naranjos, of the cathedral of Seville. Here was once the Court of Ablutions, the place where the faithful purified themselves before venturing within the Mezquita. The fountains, five in number, remain to remind us of the original character of the courtyard. Women come here to fetch water from the clear springs. They carry tall jars upon their hips, or upon their heads, and loiter by the fountain to gossip.

This quiet court invites the aged and the idler. It is cool and gratefully shaded, and when the orange-trees are in bloom a fragrance pervades the place. The priests who officiate in the cathedral spend the hours of leisure here, pacing in pairs up and down, as they smoke their cigarettes. Now and again, one notes the lover waiting for his fair one amid the fountains and the palms.

Once there were nineteen beautiful gateways leading into the Court of the Oranges, and these were uniform with the nineteen aisles. We enter by the Puerta de los Palmas, facing the Puerta del Perdon. The sumptuous Gate of Pardon at once attracts us. It is over twenty feet high, with the characteristic horseshoe arches and the elaborate Oriental ornamentation. But this is not the ancient gate; it dates from the Christian recapture of Cordova, and is constructed in imitation of the Arabian work. It is surmounted by a belfry. The upper part of the horseshoe arches is exceedingly ornate, and on either side are coats of arms. The structure is in the Estilo Sarraceno. There are massive doors, coated with copper, upon which are inscriptions. Above the door are poorly painted frescoes.

The Bell Tower erected in place of the old minaret of Abd-er-Rahman III. is not Moorish. It was designed by Hernan Ruiz, one of the Christian architects who planned the cathedral. This tower is interesting as a later monument, but it is not in harmony with the Mosque. It rises higher than the former minaret, is more pretentious, and is out of character with the surroundings. On the top is a figure of San Rafael.

The Court of Oranges is over four hundred feet long and more than two hundred feet in breadth. There was a destruction of many of the trees during a violent storm about seventy years ago, and some of the orange-trees were not replaced. The courtyard has quiet cloisters on three sides, with pillars and arches in the Gothic style.

One side of the Patio de los Naranjos is occupied by the Mosque, and it is here we see the finest exterior work of the time of Abd-er-Rahman I. and Hisham. The portions added by Almanzor are behind the altar to the left, when entering by the Gate of Pardon. In the main the impression that one gains in the Court of Oranges is distinctly Moorish. The fountains, the trees, the fine doors of the Mosque, the walls, the gate on the eastern side, and the inscriptions are purely Oriental. For the rest there has been tampering. The hand of the ‘restorer’ can be traced, and the Bell Tower is an affront upon the old edifice.

Four of the fountains were originally constructed by Hakem II., when he had spent his energy upon improving the interior of the Mezquita. The two founts in the east were for the ablution of the women; the two in the west for the purification of the men. The fountains were scooped out of single blocks of marble, brought from one quarry. To bring these huge masses of marble to their positions in the Court of Oranges, it was necessary to make a sloping road. The fountains were drawn by oxen, and borne upon heavy carts, and seventy beasts were required for each team. When the tanks were set in their places, the water streamed in through the great aqueduct of Abd-er-Rahman I., and the surplus went to fill other fountains in the city.

There was no sparing of the toil of man or beast in the days when the Omeyyads reigned in Cordova, for each Khalif seemed eager for the completion of his share of work upon the Mezquita. The army of Morisco labourers was augmented by a host of Christian captives, and we read that these unfortunates were employed to carry stone upon their heads. We can imagine the files of Christians, each man bending under his burden, compelled to toil in the upraising of a mighty temple to the glory of Islam. But the pendulum swings, and time brings its changes in the fortunes of Moor and Christian. At a later period it is the Mudejar, the ‘reconciled’ Moor, who supports the cumbrous loads upon his head, and does the bidding of the Catholic in the construction of the cathedral. And out of all this labour and sweat, hewing of stone, forging of metal, carving of wood and ivory, beating of gold and silver, and laying on of choice, imperishable colours, we have the composite fane of to-day--the Christian cathedral enfolded in the more wondrous structure of the Mohammedan Mosque. Surely there are questions that flash upon the mind as we sit in the Orange Court, and listen to the throb of the bell calling the Christians to prayer within the ancient Mezquita of the Omeyyads!

But the Cordovese do not appear to ponder upon Time’s fantastic transformations. They muse of other things--the affairs of the hour--and regard the Mezquita as an excellent asset to their slumbrous and impoverished city. Every stranger within their walls is looked upon as a sightseer; and what should he come to see but the famous Mosque? And so the boys in the street, offering their services as guides through the labyrinthine white alleys, point ahead and cry: ‘Mezquita, Mezquita.’ For the building is not known as the cathedral; it is still called the Mosque, although it has been reconsecrated and dedicated to the worship of God and the Virgin Mother.

Climb to the top of the tower and look around upon the bleached houses of the city, the curving river, the dull green of the olive thickets, the yellow grain fields, and the grey ridges of the mountains. Everything is sharp, clear-cut in the unpolluted air, and glowing in the brilliant sunshine of the south. The thoroughfares are like a network, tangled and mazy. Carthaginian hosts crossed those sierras to conquer this coveted territory from the Iberians. Then came the legions of Rome, to expel the settlers and to found Corduba. Here stood the great temple of Janus in the days of Seneca and Lucan, the arena, the schools, and the institutions of a powerful and cultured people. But all these fell with the inrush of the Goths from the north, those intrepid warriors, fanatical as they were fearless; and Cordova saw the ruin of the Roman civilisation, and the inception of a new faith and a new social order.

The scene changes constantly; the action of the drama is vivid. Again the invading flood sweeps over Andalusia. The swarthy Moors advance in battle array to the walls of the city, and the affrighted Cordovese fly to their churches for hiding. Again there sounds the clash of weapons and the shouts of combatants. And Islam prevails; the Christian cathedral is given to the Moors, and the Mezquita takes its place.

For centuries the Omeyyad rules in Cordova, and shapes the city to his fashion, obliterating almost every trace of the preceding orders, creeds, and customs. These are the palmy days, whose memorial lies below us in the Mosque, and the bridge over the Guadalquivir. These are the days that made Cordova a name familiar in the ears of the civilised nations, the days of power, splendour, and learning, whose glory shone throughout the world. The new Mecca arose; the creed of the East conquered, and Iberia was transformed to the guise of the Orient. And as the Moorish sway spread, and the conquered Christians conformed to the new traditions, and the country prospered, men thought that this state was sound and stable, and probably final and perfect.

But the pendulum swung again; the dominion of Islam was threatened by enemies within and without. History repeated itself; Time worked its inevitable revenge, and a lustier race made profit from the decadence of the Morisco civilisation. Spain arose and turned upon her oppressor, and the streets of Cordova were once more drenched with the blood of Moor and Christian. This proud Bell Tower stands as a symbol of the reconquest, and of the decline of Cordova.

Christian Spain rejoiced in her change of fortune. The crusaders set themselves to demolish and to upheave. They abandoned the wholesome habits of the Moors; the baths were destroyed by the hundred as useless relics of the detested Mohammedan. Temples, colleges, and palaces were thrown down. Science, the arts, and letters were neglected. We have read how trade forsook Cordova, and how the light of learning was almost extinguished. Gone were the cultured days of Abd-er-Rahman III., and the resplendent pomp of Almanzor. The Mecca of the West had fallen; the fate of Roman Corduba had come upon it. There was no revival, no uprising of the ruins from the ashes that could remake Cordova in the semblance of its old self. Vestiges alone remained to remind the beholder of the grandeur and the glory of the Mohammedan domination. A misdirected imperialism, an irrational conception of greatness, wrought the wreckage of the ‘Bride of Andalus’ after her recapture by the Christian Spaniards.

VI

THE SPLENDOURS OF THE MOSQUE

Before the rise of Mahomet, the architecture of the Arabs was almost devoid of those specific characters that we find in the later work of Omeyyad designers and artists. The pristine Arabian edifices were built as though the tent served as the model for the architects of this nomadic race. But in the great Mosque of Omar at Jerusalem we have the first example of a new and vigorous development of the art of architecture. The minaret, or praying-tower, was invented by Alwalid, and other distinctive features of the Moorish or Saracenic style were introduced in religious buildings.

In the earliest Morisco-Spanish edifices there was not much original work. The Visigothic temples were reconsecrated to the new faith and adapted to the plans of the primitive Mohammedan mosques, but the designs and style of decoration were not purely Morisco. The work was probably influenced by Persian and ancient Egyptian art, and according to Señor F. M. Tubino it contained Semitic elements. We shall also note the incorporation of the Corinthian capital with the slender Moorish column of marbles of various colours. The characteristic horseshoe arch, with its delicate columns, was one of the earliest manifestations of the developing art of the Moors. There has been much discussion concerning the introduction of the pointed arch, which is so often claimed as ‘Gothic.’ The arch in architecture was no doubt copied from the curved interlacing of the branches of trees, and the wide, flat arch was succeeded by models of a more pointed type. In the thirteenth century the pointed arch was a comparatively common form, and it is fairly evident that its origin was in the East.

In the Mosque of Jerusalem, and of Amrou, in Cairo, there were early examples of the pointed arch. The contrary flexure is a form of pointed arch, and it was used by the Moors. Sir Christopher Wren, and other authorities upon architectural art, lean to the opinion that the so-called Gothic arch is of Oriental origin. There are, however, a number of students who have endeavoured to disprove the Moorish genesis of the narrow arch.

In the First Period of Morisco architecture, the talent and the energy of the designers were chiefly applied to the planning of military defences, towers, walls, and embattlements. The Second Period was one of greater security from the alarms of wars, and the architects devoted their art to devising religious structures and noble mosques. In the Third Period we see the upraising of fine secular buildings, palaces, dwelling-houses, with their courts and colonnades, and the erection of sumptuous marble baths.

From the eighth to the eleventh century the style in Spain is known as the Arab-Spanish, and is sometimes called the Estilo Califato. This style is ‘Saracenic,’ with Jewish features. In the next period, from the twelfth to the thirteenth century, we have the Almohade development of Arabian architecture, whose examples may be seen in most of the Moorish cities of Spain. The last period--from the fourteenth to the fifteenth century--which marks the decline of the pure Morisco designs, is sometimes described as the Alhamares.

The salient characteristics of Moorish architecture are the groves of slender columns, the interlacing horseshoe arches in bewildering profusion, the minaret, with its gradually inclined path in lieu of steps for the ascent, the gorgeous colouring of flat surfaces, the mosaics, dazzling gildings, and decorations of precious stones and jewels. It was the Moor who discovered the art of preserving colour and rendering his adornments imperishable. The flat illuminations were probably imitations of Egyptian decoration, but it is not certain that the secret of preserving the lavish and brilliant colours was derived from Egypt.

In selecting his woods for the purposes of decorating the Mosque of Cordova, the Moor employed those of the most durable texture, so durable, indeed, that age has scarcely left its mark upon them. The bricks and stones are equally lasting, as may be proved by an inspection of the walls of the Mezquita. There was no hasty work in the construction of the temple of Allah. Nothing was used except material of a permanent quality. The treasure of the earth, its forests and its mountains, was employed in the great labour of duty and devotion.

It has been suggested that the horseshoe arch has a very ancient symbolic meaning of a Phallic origin. This is, perhaps, not the occasion for discussing this theory. It is apparent that the Moors employed this form of decoration upon every opportunity and complicated it in a variety of styles. They used it in their doorways, aisles, cloisters, and windows. The Ajimez window is typically Morisco. It has usually from two to three arches, supported on fine columns, and is exceedingly graceful in design. Ajimez signifies a window through which the sun or light shines. For effects of light in the interiors of their fanes the Morisco architects designed several ingenious apertures, such as the star-shaped window, through which the daylight peers with singular weirdness.

The defect of the Mosque of Cordova is in a want of space above the naves. We lack the grandeur of height within the building. Loftiness does not seem to have appealed to the designers. The average height of the columns is about sixteen feet. Length and breadth have, however, been carefully considered in the construction of the temple, and the long arched aisles are like forest avenues. There were once one thousand and twelve columns in the building, but many of these were removed when San Fernando commanded that the Mezquita should be adapted as a Christian cathedral.

The Vizier, Almanzor, removed the eastern wall of the Mosque and extended the building in order to add eight new naves. These naves had the same number of arches as those already standing, and they were intersected at right angles with lesser naves, thirty-five in number. At this period a lack of space necessitated a narrowing of some of the arches, and the curves were made more pointed. Every conceivable ornamentation was introduced in the beautifying of these arches.

The _foseyfasa_, or enamel-work of the Moors, is seen in its brilliant examples in the Mosque. This enamel, called _foseyfasa_ by the Arabs, is composed of crushed glass and small pebbles baked together with gorgeous colours, and sometimes containing an admixture of gold and silver. It was used at Damascus, in the great Mosque, and at Constantinople. According to Gayangos, this mosaic enamel was set in its place by Greek mechanics imported by Abd-er-Rahman. This work is finely exampled upon the entrance to the sanctuary, and throughout the Mosque there are specimens of this wondrous art of embellishment.

The principal nave of the Mezquita has huge arches on stone columns, with finely carved capitals, and a large number of minor arches in the Estilo del Califato. Most of these columns were made from the stone of Spanish quarries. They are of jasper, marble, and other stone, and number nearly nine hundred. Narrow avenues run transversely through the grand aisles. We are lost in them; these passages appear interminable, and their ribbon decorations bewilder the eyes.

We approach the sacred mih-rab, the receptacle of the Koran, the holiest of holies of the temple. The façade is exceedingly beautiful, in the later style of decoration, and the arcades of the vestibule of the sanctuary have fine triple arches and interlacing curves of exquisite design. The dome is cone-shaped.

The door is in the Estilo del Califato, dazzling in the wealth of its colouring, marvellous in the grace and symmetry of its main arch, trefoil arches, and delicate frets. The mih-rab is seven-sided, with a cupola of extraordinary richness of hue, and details of the greatest interest. One is baffled in attempting to describe this sanctuary. The technical terms of architecture do not convey a conception of its beauty to the lay mind. In the days of its glory, the mih-rab was illuminated by an enormous lamp and huge candles. El-Makkari, the Arab, says that the great lantern had nearly fifteen hundred lights, and that the total number of lights was over ten thousand. The enamels shone with their brilliant hues in the rays of these lamp-lights and candles until the eye could scarcely rest upon the walls and the cupola. Here the khalifs came in pomp to worship, and to scan reverently the pages of the costly Koran.

The hollowed roof of the mih-rab and the floor are of white marble. We may see the marks worn by the knees of the faithful who came hither to pay their devotions to the Father of Islam. The mosaics of the walls exhibit the finest designs and richest tones of the _foseyfasa_ work. This is the third mih-rab, the production of Hakem, and it is a retreat that speaks eloquently of that piety which seeks to glorify a deity by the erection and adornment of a temple. It is resplendent beyond compare.

This chamber was the repository of the famous _nimbar_, a pulpit on wheels, which had seven steps, and could be moved to any part of the Mosque. When the Christians regained power in the city, this highly ornamented pulpit was cut into pieces, and portions of it were used in the construction of the altar. The superb copy of the Koran, to which we have referred before, was kept in a golden case, mounted with precious stones. It was so heavy that two men were required to carry it.

Upon the ceiling of the Mezquita there were formerly inscriptions. Among them were the command: ‘Be not one of the negligent,’ and the dictum: ‘There is no God but Allah, to whom all beings address themselves in their need.’ The Christians effaced these inscriptions when the Mosque was purified and consecrated to the Virgin Mother.

In the Capilla de Villaviciosa we shall see the Arab-Byzantine crossed arches on decorated columns. This was the retreat of the Khalif, and it was once lined with silver. The chapel is the only one of Moorish interest. There are forty-five Christian chapels, but these scarcely demand inspection. In front of the Capilla of San Pablo is the tomb of Pablo de Céspedes, the Cordovese painter. This chapel has a horseshoe arch with sharp points. The Capilla de la Cena contains ‘The Last Supper,’ painted by Céspedes. And in the Sala Capitular were statues by Alonso Cano and de Mora.

The chapels were constructed from the side aisles of the Mezquita when the building was dedicated to the Christian faith. After the capture of Cordova by San Fernando, the original work of the Moorish builders was spoiled in many parts of the Mezquita. Large surfaces, beautifully designed and coloured, were removed by the innovators, columns were pulled down, and screens destroyed. ‘The gold lavished on the panelled ceilings,’ so praised by an Arab poet, was obliterated in many places; the Christian architects wrought havoc in almost every part of the structure. No doubt the pious reconstructors were unconscious of their vandalism. They sought to improve upon the art of the Mohammedans, and to build a worthier edifice. But their failure is only too apparent, and it has been admitted by Spanish writers. Charles V. expressed sorrow at the garish and meagre innovations, saying that the designers and craftsmen had destroyed a great and unique work of art in their endeavour to improve upon the design of the Moriscos.

VII

THE CATHEDRAL AND CHURCHES

From the time of the taking of Cordova by the sainted King Ferdinand, Spanish architects and artificers designed and constructed additions to the interior and exterior of the beautiful Mezquita. We have already described these additions as often incongruous and for a great part unlovely. San Fernando caused the erection of the first Christian chapel within the Mosque, and it occupied a position by the south wall, covering three naves from east to west, and four transverse naves from north to south. The chapel, which was dedicated to St. Clement, enclosed two Moorish arches.

Following the example of the sovereign, several noblemen erected chapels in the Mezquita. In 1250 Don Diaz de Haro built the chapel of Santa Inez, and later Domingo Muñoz erected that of San Bartolomé. Enriched by donations from the pious, the Chapter of the Cathedral undertook to transform the building, and even sought to improve upon the work of the Mohammedans. They removed the apartment of the Kadi, destroyed the chamber of the Khalif, known as the _maksurrah_, and in its place reared the Grand Chapel. The chapels of St. John and of Santiago were built between 1260 and 1265.

At this time four Mudejares, or reconciled Moors, were employed upon the work of altering the Mosque. It was evidently the wish of the improvers that the Arabic tradition should be followed in the construction of the arches and the plan of the decorations; but already the Moorish art was declining, and these latest examples of Morisco design and ornamentation do not display that wealth of imagination and high skill which characterised the Omeyyad craftsmanship. Hence the work in the Cathedral became more ‘Gothic’ and less Arab-Byzantine, as piece by piece the chapels were added to the structure of Abd-er-Rahman, Hakem II., and Almanzor.

The worst vandalism was wrought when the great Choir was made under the sanction of Charles V., who afterwards regretted that he had consented to the alterations. In order to erect the Coro, with its high roof, the old Moorish ceiling was destroyed. The architect originally employed upon the Grand Chapel and Choir was the celebrated Hernan Ruiz, who achieved some notable designs in the Plateresque style. The retablo, or high altar, is by Alonso Matias, and the painting is the work of Palomino.

In the Coro the seats are beautifully carved by Pedro Cornejo. The Capilla de Nuestra Señora de Villaviciosa is perhaps the most interesting of the many Christian chapels erected within the Mezquita. It is in the later Moorish style. Céspedes’ painting of ‘The Last Supper’ is in the Capilla de la Cena; and the tomb of this artist, who was a native of the city, is near the Capilla de San Pablo.

In the Christian Cathedral there are many examples of the composite Moorish and Gothic architecture, which is known in Spain as the Estilo Mudejar. Portraits of saints and paintings of living things were introduced later, in contravention of the Mohammedan law forbidding such representations in the decoration of holy buildings. Statues were also placed in the Cathedral. The brilliant Plateresque style eventually succeeded the later Mudejar work; the decorations were fanciful and flamboyant, and not always inspired by the highest æsthetic sense. Finally, in the seventeenth century, the Baroque style became the fashion of the hour, and the arts of pictorial embellishment and of carving degenerated often into the bizarre and the theatrical. Wood was used in place of stone for statuary, and many of the fine old altar-pieces in the Spanish churches were destroyed to give place to grotesque and more ‘realistic’ conceptions.

As early as 1278 the minaret of Abd-er-Rahman III. was crowned with the Christian figure of Saint Raphael, and at the time of the alterations under the direction of Hernan Ruiz the bulk of the Moorish praying-tower was removed, and the much loftier belfry erected. Most of the beautiful doors of the Mosque were blocked up during the progress of the reconstruction. The door of the Gate of Pardon was decorated by Henry II., and is in the later Mudejar style, with Christian images above it. Such are among the many examples of the curious blending of Moorish and Christian forms of design and styles of ornamentation within and without the Mosque.

For further examples of Mudejar architecture we may visit the Hospital del Cardinal, where there is a fine chapel dedicated to San Bartolomé. The Church of Santa Marina was originally Moorish, but it is now modern. Relatives of the Gran Capitan Gonsalvo are buried in the San Hipolito.

VIII

THE PALACE OF THE KHALIFS AND THE MOORISH BRIDGE

Very little of the ancient Moorish Alcazar remains. On the south side there are a bath and some towers, and the plot by the river is beautifully shady with semi-tropical foliage and fruit-trees. The old Alcazar was originally the Palace of the Khalifs, and it covered a large area. It contained huge and sumptuous chambers and several handsome baths, which were destroyed during the reign of Isabella. The northern part of the building was erected in the time of Alfonso XI., about a century after the recapture of Cordova by San Fernando.

The gate leading to the bridge is no longer Moorish. It was designed by a Christian architect. We gain a glimpse of the sierras through the portal, and passing through, reach the many-arched bridge, leading to the Campo de la Verdad. The foundations are Roman, and it was probably built in the time of Cæsar. At the far end is the Calahorra, a picturesque tower. In the centre stands the shrine of the patron saint of Cordova, St. Raphael, the archangel.

This bridge was the scene of many conflicts during the Moorish occupancy of the city. Long before it was built, when Cæsar came to attack Cordova, he constructed a temporary bridge across the Guadalquivir, by placing large baskets of stones in the river and laying timber upon them.

The Moorish water-mills, which can be seen from the bridge, are interesting relics. The river, the mills, the bell-tower of the Mosque, and the walls form a picture which lives in the memory. The view lacks the stern grandeur of that from the Bridge of Toledo, but it is nevertheless beautiful. In flood-time the river seethes by the buttresses, and tumbles through the arches to spend itself below in a wide and imposing stream. And at night, when the moon gleams on the Guadalquivir, and lights the Mosque, and lingers upon the ancient walls and towers, the scene is one of fairy-like enchantment.

Men fish above and below the bridge, employing curious lever nets and other quaint tackle for the capture of shad and eels. Along the verge of the swirling stream busy women kneel to rinse and wring their linen, and to spread the garments upon the green banks to dry in the hot sun. The devout pause before the shrine in the centre of the bridge, and pay their reverence to St. Raphael. Here, too, loiter the idlers of Cordova; they lounge and blink at the water, and smoke their cigarettes in the sunshine. And on market-days there is a stream of pack-mules and asses, heavy wains with teams of horses, and droves of cattle across the long Puente.

The spell of Cordova holds one long after leaving the city. One recalls the white, tortuous alleys, and the luminous blue shadows of the Mosque at noonday. The odours of orange-bloom and of roses are wafted to the nostrils, as one thinks of the silent patios, where the footstep echoes, and the huerta by the river, where there are trees and plants of the tropics. One hears the rattle of the mule-wagon upon the stony thoroughfares, the first streets that were ever paved in Spain; the nightly cry of the watchman, in his mediæval garb; the jangling of church bells the call of the water-seller, carrying his tall Oriental jar; the rich liquid tones of the nightingales in the gardens and the thickets of the Guadalquivir; the early morning scream of the hawk floating over the bell-tower, and the bleating of the wandering herds of goats. Cordova is Moorish, Spanish, Andalusian, but, still more than all, Oriental. Wonderful Moors! Marvellous city of light, colour, beauty, and romantic memories!

IX

ILLUSTRIOUS NATIVES OF CORDOVA

The ‘holy and learned’ city of Cordova has ever produced sons worthy of its renown. There were, no doubt, many philosophers, teachers, and poets during the Mohammedan dominion, whose names have not been preserved, and whose works have perished. Corduba was the birthplace of Seneca, the relative and the contemporary of Lucan, and one of the greatest men that the city produced.

The moralist and philosopher was a delicate, ailing child, and throughout his life he suffered from ill-health, which was increased by his severe studies, and possibly by his asceticism. Seneca was one of the first strenuous advocates of the vegetarian diet and ‘the simple life.’ It is said that he subsisted upon the plainest fare and practised rigorous self-denial.

There is much that is admirable in the character of Seneca, but there are also traits that appear extremely incompatible with his constant insistence upon right conduct and purity of life.

The genius of Seneca was soon recognised by the rulers in Cordova, and his fame reached Rome, whither he went, and where he was received with the respect that his deep learning merited. His career was, however, checked by his unfortunate intrigue with Julia, the married sister of the Emperor Caligula. As a punishment for his adultery he was sent to Corsica, where he lived in banishment for eight years.

During this long spell of solitude Seneca mused and studied, and found the period of exile one of fruitfulness to the mind. Yet when he was recalled to Rome, at the intercession of Agrippina, the philosopher exhibited a keen desire for wealth, which is scarcely reconcilable with his affirmations concerning the life of simplicity and self-denial. In order to make money, he did not hesitate to lend sums at an exorbitant interest. He became a courtier, and was the confidential tutor of Nero; but at the height of his fortune he conspired against the emperor. His condonation of Nero’s murder of his mother was an elaborate piece of casuistry, devised for no other reason than the desire to retain the royal patronage. In this and in other episodes, the career of Seneca bewilders us, and provides matter for reflection upon the inconsistency of human nature and the fallibility of even the greatest ethicists.

The last pages in the life of the philosopher are sad. He was condemned to death as a traitor, and he had married a young wife. When he heard that the guards were on their way to arrest him, Seneca resolved to open one of his veins and to bleed to death. His loyal and loving wife begged to share his fate, and at her request he cut one of her veins. But Seneca was old, seventy years of age, and his blood flowed so slowly that he could not die. In his desperation he drank a cup of hemlock, hoping to poison himself, and by that means put an end to his anguish. Yet even the hemlock potion failed. Asphyxiation in a heated chamber at last brought death to the aged sage, and by timely attention the life of his young wife was saved.

Marcus Annæus Lucanus, or Lucan, was born in Cordova in the year A.D. 38 or 39. He was the nephew of Seneca, and his father was a public servant held in esteem in the city. Our data for a biography of Lucanus are very scanty. He wrote poems before he left Cordova, and encouraged the writing of Latin verse among the Spanish residents. His great work, the _Pharsalia_, was left unfinished.

Lucan was lauded by Tacitus as a poet. He went to Rome, and it is recorded that he vanquished Nero in one of the poetical tournaments in which that monarch delighted. The egotistic emperor never forgave Lucan for beating him in this literary contest. He vindictively forbade the poet to write any more poems or to recite to audiences. We need not be surprised that the aggrieved poet rebelled against this attempt to utterly silence his song, to deprive him of the exercise of his art, and to crush him. Lucan was aroused. He became one of the conspirators of Piso, and plotted against the power of Nero.

When he was arrested, and offered pardon if he would name his accomplices in the plot, Lucan falsely accused his mother Atilia of complicity. This cowardly resort was, however, of no avail. He was not spared by the vengeful Nero, who gave the poet his choice of death. Lucan chose the usual Roman mode of opening a vein in a bath. He is said to have recited one of his poems as he died.