Notes of a Short Trip to Spain. Part VII: Visit to the Mosque of Cordova

Irish Jesuit Province

Notes of a Short Trip to Spain. Part VII: Visit to the Mosque of CordovaAuthor(s): John FallonSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 13, No. 144 (Jun., 1885), pp. 300-313Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20497270 .

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( 300 )

NOTES OF A SHORT TRIP TO SPAIN.

BY JOHN FALLON.

PART VII.-VISIT TO THE MOSQUE OF CORDOVA.

THE railway from Seville runs along the valley of the Guadal quivir, and the noble river is in frequent view. A range of'

mountains bounds the northern horizon, brown and dusky as their name imports, for this is the " Sierra More6na, and " Morena " in

Spanish means brown. Still let us guard against a false etymology. Long before the

Castilian language was spoken, far back in the early days of heathen Rome, the "Sierra Morena " was " Mons Marianus, just as the " Guadiana" was " flumen Anas "-as the " Douro wasr

the "IDurius," the "Ebro," the " Iberug," and so on. The non

inventive Romans, practical-minded matter-of-fact men, like the modern Anglo-Saxons, just mapped the names of hills, and towns, ancd rivers,as they got them from their Punic or more remote Iberian predecessors,with an odd blunder here and there to suit the difference of pronunciation. So that " Morena," all appropriate as it is, is of much older pedigree than it seems, and probably of prehistoric antiquity.

This " Sierra Mlorena," to judge by the map, is fifty miles off; to judge by the eye, it seems quite near, so marvellously clear is the air. Endless olive-groves spread along its base and up its sides, forming a woodland of strangely leaden hue.

Along the plain, as we advance, the Arcadian scene of horses treading out the corn again gladdens the view. On the way to

Granada I had noted them four and five abreast; but here I

reckoned as many as ten, cantering round a solitary man, who guided them all in line with a single rope. Small wonder Anda lusian steeds come to display rare action in paseo and parade, with

such magnificent exercise during their colt-hood ! As for the grain thus thrashed, it is gathered into great heaps,

and then left exposed night and day until it suits the convenience

of its owners to remove it; and this, without the least apparent

anxiety about possible showers, or filibustering crows. Showers are manifestly out of the question, in this district, at this season;

not that the skies are cloudless, thank heaven ! but the few



Notes of a Short Trip to Spain. 301

iridescent clouds that are, seem ever soaring upwards, or poising in mid-air for ornament onlv. But the rooks, and other grain-devour ing birds, what of them ? Why, I suppose each Andalusian might say, as the dying marshal Espart6ro said of his enemies, when asked to forgive them: "H oly father, I have shot them all 1 " At

all events, here they exist not. Still the country is not without birds: several times to-day I

saw small flocks of a kind new to me, russet brown, slightly larger than thrushes, with wings streaked in black and white; but I sup pose they live on insects only. They would rise aifrighted as the train glided past, and fly madly forwards to keep pace with it or pass it out, as frightened birds are wont to do. And I saw more than one vulture rising lazily from the ground, then sailing away

majestically with almost motionless wings. Such is apparently the ornithology of this district; the grain of the fields seems to dread no felony from winged foes!

At intervals, oft on the mountain-slopes, are villages, and castles domineering over them in feudal fashion. Some of those castles are modern, or at least well-preserved and inhabited; others are

manifest ruins, perched on scarped headlands, grim mementoes of other days, each with its legend of fierce fight and foray, wild joy and sorrow, if it could only tell the tale. All those castles, ancient and modern, as also the villages that nestle under them, are of tbe same dusky brow-n as the sierra itself.

You will scarcely believe me if I tell you that I distinctly noticed two small tornadoes careering along the heights, scarcely seeming to touch the earth, but expanding darkly upwards in cor nucopia form. These whirlpools of the atmosphere, engendered by the fierce heat, seem to attract no attention here, and to be

associated with no idea of inijury. As regards the heat itself, my small thermometer, placed in the coolest corner of the railway

carriage, marked many degrees over ninety, although the sunshine was carefully excluded with blinds, and all the windows were open. Yet the heat is not oppressive, the air is so dry; and, what is more

remarkable, passi-ng as we are through miles of tillage fields in

stubble, there is no dust. The freshness of early spring seems still to linger in the land: the red earth is not yet baked to cinders, as it

will be when the autumn tourist comes, and when nothing will retain the look of vegetable life except a stray crop here and there, and

the never-failing hedge-rows of "cactus green and blue broad

sworded aloes." At present the dust is phenomenally absent from the field-sides, and locomotion is a downright pleasure.



302 Note.? of a Short Tlrip to Spain.

Soon Cordova, my destination, is reached, and the train is exchanged for a breezy omnibus, shaded with striped awning in lieu of glass, and drawn by a stout team of mules, two at the

wheels, three leading abreast. Their scarlet tassels are intermixed with bells, as usual: and those bells, selected by some man of taste, make not a bad concert as We trot along. Thus you enter the city of the Caliphs!

A short rest, an invigorating luncheon at the excellent "Hotel Suisse," a few directions from the hotel-manager, and, like the carrier-pigeon for its home, off I start for the great

Mosque, just as if it and I were old acquaintances. A labyrinth of streets intervenes, and the bump of locality is not mnine; but thanks to the marvellous sunshine and the deep shadows, the problem is a simple one: you have only to keep to the streets that are shaded on the same side and to the same extent, and you

are sure to go straight. Not that the observance of this rule is

absolutely easy: for instance, some of the streets are so narrow that they are altogether shaded: others are so tortuous that they are shaded in every imaginable manner, varying from moment to moment. But, on the whole, with a little attention you can steer pretty straight, without hesitation, and without error.

And fortunate it is that it is so: for this is siesta hour, and

the houses are barred and bolted as if it were midnight, and the streets as deserted as they will be then. I meet no one except .a muleteer, brown as his own hair, following his Indian file of

,pannier-laden mules. To ask the way of him, in my mixture of

French and incipient Spanish, would be vain, and remember, I do not attempt it. But let me mention that, between his meditative

anirnals and me, there is a slight difference of opinion, or rather

.competition for place; for they, like me, are for " hugging " the

-shady sides of the narrow streets, and I, in jealous mood, think

those streets barely sufficient for myself, and relish not the thought of being crushed between their stiff panniers and the still more unyielding house-fronts. So a faithful umbrella, borne as sun

shade in Andalusia, does defensive duty here, the superior animal

easily wins the day, and the good-humoured muleteer salutes with

a smllile and a blessing, while your friend moves on rejoicing. Thus navigating, without a word spoken, at length I reach

the great Mosque. It rises in front of me like a fortress, a bastille, ;a Tower of London, anything except a house of prayer: for its

dark brown walls, immensely lofty, are capped with flame-shaped



Notes of a ShortI Tr( p to Spain. 303

battlements, and flanked with towers from interval to interval. But the gate of entrance is a " gate of pardon "-note the charm-. ing name- and within is a coturt of oranges, far larger than at

Seville, and more imposing, with a wide and lofty colonnaded cloister on three sides of it, the Mosque forming the fourth.

High above the court of oranges is a stately tower, but the

eye soon detects that it is built in the formal renaissance style of

the sixteenth century. The fact is, it is but a cold substitute for

the loorish minaret, the pride of Cordova, that stood where it stands till a hurricane laid it low-the same hurricane that so

miraculously spared the Giralda of Seville. In the wide court of oranges not only there are orange trees,

tall and vigorous, with oranlges still on them ; but citron-trees, with their pale fruit looking rather dried and shrunk; and even

a few palm-trees, graceful as ever, seemingly the lineal descendants of those which were tranisplanted here fronm "holy Damascus" more than eleven centuries ago.

In the midst of the court is also a tricklinig fountain, fed by

a MIoorish aqueduct; but, at this silent hour, not a human being is at hand to remind one of the countless thousands that crowded

here for ablution in former days. The stillness of the place is

overwhelming, and I involuntarily look back several times, to see

that I am not followed; it is only the echo of my own footsteps,

coming down from the lofty walls.

Human life reappears just iniside the threshold of the Mosque, in the form of aged mendicant women, who simply hold out the

hand, saying: " Por el amor de Dios, sefiorlto ! " (sefiorlto is the

coaxing diminutive of sefior). If you give them a little, youi are

more than rewarded, almost humiliated, by the fervour of their

thanks. If you prefer to refuse, you have only to say: " Perdone

usted, Hermana! . . * (Forgive me, sister .. .) and pass on without

another word. But minor forms of humanity crop up within, less considerate

and less easy to dispose of, in the shape of youthful street Arabs, who follow like mosquitoes, offering their services as guides. I had expressly come quite alone, depriving myself of the aid of the hotel courier, to have the pleasure of discovering things for myself; to be now victimised by those young scapegraces was not to be

thoug,ht of; but how to shake them off was the problem. Nothing occurred to me but to dart straight away, looking, neither to rig,ht nor to left, buit rio'ht before me like an oflicial, till I

reached about the nmiddle of tlhe vast building. One by one my



4304 Notes of a Short D4 s to Spain.

tormentors dropped off, with remarks not meant to be flattering, such as: " no es un viag6ro . . . no es un caballero . . . " (he is not

-a traveller . . . he is not a gentleman . . . ). If anyone had

told me this morning that my first act, on reaching this longed for goal of my desires, would be to rush through it in this absurd fashion, I should have had some difficulty in believing him; but the French are right: " l'impr6vu toujours arrive." At all events the simple stratagem was successful: I was left alone.

And now what a sight! A " hall of a thousand columns is

truly the name for it. To north and south, to west and east, in fact in every imaginable direction, marble. pillars in long straight linles form vistas of amazing perspective, of endless variety. Those pillars have no plinths or pedestals, but are surmounted by capitals which resemble the under-leaflets of a palm tree. From those capitals rise shafts of ornamented masonry, on which the whole vaulting of the apparently endless building seems to rest; while, springing from them side-ways, from column to column, are open arches of horse-shoe form, numerous beyond counting, and doing duty like the flyino buttresses of a Gothic cathedral.

The columns are fairly matched in height and thickness, but

most strangely varied in colour and quality. One is black, the

next is red, a third is of precious verde antique, a fourth of

oriental jasper: in front is one of Egyptian porphyrry, or dark

brown granite; beside it is alabaster, white and translucent; and

so on. Such a mixture of nature's marble wealth was never seen

before. The manner in which those columns are ranged is in

loingitudinal naves from north to south, and transverse aisles from

east to west: of the former there are nineteen, of the latter there are thirty-five; so that the vast interior of the building is like

a petrified grove, a forest of stone, the flying arches looking quite lightsome and airy enough to keep up the resemblance, as branches.

As for great spans, and great elevations, here they are not to

be thought of. The clear width of the longitudinal naves is

scarcely more than twenty-two feet, that of the transverse aisles

barely exceeds eleven. From pavement to vaulting the total height of the building does not appear more than thirty-six or

thirty-seven feet, and even this is perspectively halved by the flying arches that intersect the view midway. The marble columns are only about eleven feet high, by some eighteen inches

in diameter; and, as for likeness of material, it exists only amongst

their capitals. With such fabric has an area been covered almost




as vast as St. Peter's, and able to shelter an army of forty thousand

men, if drawn in battle array.

At present the stonework of arches and vaulting, throughout

the greater part of the building, is coated with plaster, and tinted

in dove colour and pale vermilion, in accordance with the fashion

prevalent in Africa. To picture those arches and vaults as they

were in Moorish days, we should remember, for it is amply attested,

that each small cupola was a marvel of carved woodwork, as at the

Alhambra, and that the now flat surfaces were enriched with

oriental stucco picked out with gold. Of course the gold is gone,

but faint traces of the. stucco are visible in remote corners that

have as yet escaped the ruthless hand of " restoration."

And the records tell us that from those vaults were pendant

chandeliers of burnished brass-some put the number as high as

two hundred and fifty, with ten thousand lamps-so that in the

palmy days of Islamism those now bare walls must have shone

with a wealth of light and gold beyond all power of imagination

to picture.

Thus you walk through aisles and naves till you reach the

western portion and its southernmost end ; here things change

completely. The bare plastered and tinted surfaces give way to a

traceried stonework of arches interwoven and interlaced, and

encrusted all over with gorgeous Byzantine mosaic. This mosaic

was the gift of an emperor of Constantinople to the first of the

Cordovan caliphs,* in the early part of the tenth century, and

specially stipulated for by treaty. As it stands, it is centuries

older than the oldest Gothic work in Christendom, and yet it

looks as if set up yesterday, and it glistens and is iridescent like

the scales of a freshly caught salmon. It merely represents, so far

as I could observe, graceful arabesques and Cufic inscriptions along

the borders; and is all in subdued tints of pale violet and pearl

coloured white; but it struck me, I know not why, over and over

again, as absolutely the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

This was the " Kiblah " of the great Mosque, to which the

faithful turned by way of looking towards Meccah. Here was the M 3ihrab," corresponding in some measure with the Holy of

Holies of a Hebrew temple. iere stood the resplendent "mimbar," * The first of the Colrdovani sultans who assumed the dignity of the

Caliphate was Abdurrabman II., whose reign extended from A.D. 912-961. He also assumed the surname of Annassir (defender of the faithf?ul).-Does not the double assumption remind you somiewhat of IIenry VIII. ? But Annassir, according to his lights, was a troily good and great i-ana, andi probably the- most

-fortunate and prosperous sovereign of his age.



306 Notes of a Short Tr'p to Spain.

the pulpit from which the Imaum preached the Friday sermon. Here was the gorgeous desk on which lay one of the four Korans

penned under the very eyes of Othman. A-nd a shrine enriched with

rarest gems, transcending the value of jewelled pulpit and Koran and desk, enclosed a bone from the skeleton of Mahomet himself, and a pilgrimage to this shrine was tantamount to one to Meccah.

Even yet the ancient'pavement of white marble is here worn hollow by the steps and knees of the faithful, who came here for ages in

myriads to worship and to pray. To this day, although the Mosque has been converted to the uses of a Christian church for

more than six centuries, it is not rare to see a Moor from across

the straits praying and prostrating himself here as his fathers did

of old; and, not long since, the Emperor of Morocco's brother was seen performing the seven-fold round in humblest devotion,

bathed in tears, lamenting no doubt the vanished glories of his

race, and vainly beseeching Allah for their return.

The nave which leads to this Kiblah was manifestly the principal

one of the Mosque, and is two or three feet wider than the rest.

While I was standing in it, attempting to sketch the marvellous. outline of the mosaic work, the evening sun projected its shadows

right across it, which confirms what I have stated, and what the

Moorish chronicles amply bear out, that the naves run from north

to souith, and therefore that th1e Mosquoe qf Cordova, although profess

ing to look towYardls Jeecah, looks dute south. This paradoxical fact

almost summarises its history. Let me note a few facts and dates

concerning it: When the Moors invaded Spain, in A.D. 711, they found here a

Vizigoth church, which previously had been a temple of Januts; some of the columns of that temple still lie in the Court of Oranges.

With exemplary moderation for conquerors, they left to the Chris tians one-half of the Church, and appropriated the other half to

their own worship. In adjusting this half to the purpose of a

Mosque, in other words, so as to face towards Meceah, they made no

allowance for their change of longitude in coming here; such science was not theirs. But they turned it, as their Mosques were

turned at home, that is to say, due south: because, although the

Spaniards called them Moors indiscriminately, those who settled here were from Damascus, and the Damascene way of looking

towards Meccah is southwards. The mighty dynasty of the Beni Ummeyhh, under whom the

conquest had been effected, and whose sway extended from the

Himalayas to the Atlantic ocean, had their clans and court settled

at Damascus, so that the settlers here were of their kith and



Notes of a Short Trip to Sp)ain. 307

kindred. And thus it happened that when this dynasty was sub

verted in the east, and the whole family all but exterminated; and when Abdurrahman, the young chieftain of the race, swam the Euphrates with his infant son in his arms, and fled for

dear life from Palestine to Egypt, and from Egypt to Morocco, here he found a welcome and a home, among his own tribesmen

and partisans. With their stout aid he crushed out all rivalry, but

the process took him thirty hard years of fighting: and when he settled himself down at length to build a palace and a Mosque, that thing called death camue upon him, and transferred the work to his worthy son and successor, Hisham I., who completed the

Mosque in less than ten years. This completion was reached in the year A.D. 796, so that Iisham's work is nearly eleven centuries old. From the subsequent lengthening and widening, of which there is authentic detail, there can scarcely be a doubt that the

original work of Hisham comprises exactly the eleven western longitudinal naves, running from north to south, so far southwards as twenty-one transverse aisles will bring them: and it is exactly the central of those eleven naves that is wider than the rest, and leads straight up to the Kiblah.

Hisham I. was addicted to procuring his materials wherever he

could get them, by gift Qr force, pillage or spoilation: and the marble pillars tell the tale. It is not alone that they vary in

colour and quality: but some are too long, and are sunk beneath

the pavement; others are 'too short, and the deficiency is supple

mented by pieces above, just under the archaic capitals that

surmount them all. This over-length and under-length is a speaking record of how they were procured, from shores and cities

far apart: from Narbonne and Nismes, from Tarragona and Cadiz,

from Carthage and the distant East. Note that to that date (and for long afterwards) no question was

ever raised concerning the propriety of keeping uip in Spain the

Damascene method of looking towards Meccah, viz., from north to south. Thus matters went on for nearly onie hundred and seventy

years, the Sultans of Cordova always enriching the building, and

the crowds that flocked to it always increasing in numbers, till

Abdurrahman III., better known as Annassir, bethought himself of enlarging the Mosque by lengthening it; but he, too, died, after

a singularly long and prosperous reign,* and the work was executed

by his son, Alhakem II. (A.D. 961-976). * Still in his diary he noted that there were only foturteen days in his whole

life that he could really call happy. VOL. xiii. No. 144. 24



308 Notes of a Short Trip to Spain.

It was then that the eleven original naves were brought to the

full length at which they are to-day: and also that the marvellous

Byzantine mosaic was set up, which we still admire, and which the Caliph Annassir had stipulated for and procured. Furthermore, it was then at length that a controversy arose, memorable, though all too little known, concerning the point of the horizon to which the "1 Kiblah" ought to be turned, the " mathematicians and

astronomers " contending that it should incline towards the east

the general public stoutly maintaining that it ought to be retained facing the south, " as it was theretofore." Let me quote the exact

words of the Moorish chronicler, Maccar'l, as to what ensued: " While the discussion was progressing, a Faquir named Abu

Ibrahim came up to Alhakem and said to him: 'O prince of the

believers! all the people of this nation have constantly turned their faces to Ihe sothtb while making their prayers. It was to the south

that the Imaums who preceded thee, the doctors, the cadis, and all the Moslems directed their looks, from the time qf the conquest up to the present day. And it was to the south that the Tabis (may God

show them mercy) inclined the IKiblahs of all the mosques which they erected in this country. Remember the proverb which says: It is better to follow the example of others and be saved, than to

perish by separating from the flock.' " Upon whichi the Rhalif exclaimed: 'By Allah! thou sayest

right ! I anm for following the example of the Tabis, whose

opinion on the subject is of great weight.' " And he ordered that it should be carried out as proposed." Thus did ritualism at that early date prove victorious over

" mathematicans and astronomers," and tbus did the Mosque of Cordova retain its southern direction, by way of looking towards

Meceah! This is the paradox which people ignore or rashly deny,

although the fact is so plainly recorded in Moorish annals, and

patent to whosoever cares to examine the reality. When the Khalif Alhakem died, his son and heir, Hisham II.

was not yet in his teens, and his powerful prime minister, Alman

zor, constituted himself into a regular mayor of the palace, keep

ing his young so-vereign in a, state of Merovingian seclusion and

idleness; so that the acts of this reign are the acts of Almanzor,

as long as the latter lived. This minister surpassed Albakem's

addition to the Mosque, by widening it from end to end. A royal

palace stood in his way on the western side, and this caused the *

Maccarfs " Moorifeh Dynasties in Spain," Book III., chap. IL




,eight additional naves, of which his enlargemenit consists, to be

all on the eastern side of the Mosque; and thus they appear to

the present day, out of gear and out of balance, as regards the

principal nave leading to the Kiblah, but, in other respects, in keeping with the rest of the building.

Great as Almanzor was, lovers of ancient literature will scarcely thank him for filling the cisterns of Cordova, and lighting its squares, with parchments for which the Caliph Alhakem had lavished his treasures and ransacked the East: and faithful adherents of the dynasty which made him what he' was, had

scarcely reason to be grateful to him for lowering and undermining its prestige, and thus leading the way to its speedy subversion. "Almanzo6r " means victorious, and he died beaten; all his plans

were for family aggrandisement, and ended most disastrously for his family. Yet, we may forgive him his atrocious selfishness, for under the higher designs of Providence, it certainly caused the dismemberment of the Moorish power and hastened the re-establish ment of Christianity throughout the length of Spain.

Saturated with these granld reflections, I returned to dinner.

My thoughts were about Abdurrahman and Annassir, Alhakem and

Almanzor ... the eighth, the ninth, and the ten centuries -nothing

more modern I The table d'hote brought me promptly back te)

the nineteenth, amid commercial travellers, whose talk was about

the weather, and about the difficulty of finding business-men at

home, and awake, in this "old-fashioned" city. According to

their version, when a Cordovan is at home, he is asleep: when he

is awake, he is sure to be out-off to some ice-house, or cool

promenade. This I could partly believe, and appreciate, consider ing the temperature.

But, all the more, the wonder to me was, what on earth could

have brought these commercial men to this "'old-fashioned " place, as they irreverently called it. I suppose they fell here in a flight,

as birds of passage do: or that they came here on the principle

that men of their craft should go everywhere. Commercial

travellers, to a certain extent, are the pioneers of modern civiliza tion, and ifot bad company in their way. To them the dead past

is nothing; the present, including the near future, all. Before long I found miyself initiated into some of their mysteries of buying and selling: and one of them, a Frenchman, invited me to accom

pany him in a tour to Algeria; instead of which I joined biin in .a ramble round the town.



310 Notes of a Short,Trip to Spain.

The streets are perfectly clean and bright-looking, although most of the houses are centuries old. The Moors had a saying. " An Andalusian of the lower classes would spend his last dirhem in soap, instead of buying food for his dinner." This merely

meant that the people fully realised the virtue of cleanliness, and that with them, as with the modem Dutch, it was a passion. The

Christian population still cherishes the same virtue, and it shows itself in the house-fronts, which are tinted with lime-wash, and look quite modern, even where of oldest date. This antiquity is revealed, as at Seville, not in blackened frontage, but in the deep depression of the "patios" beneath the level of the adjoining streets. As for the patios themselves, they seemed to me less graceful, and less tastefully laid out here than at Seville. Perhaps this is prejudice: but. although the two cities are only some twenty leagues apart, even the ancient Moors used to recognise a difference of character and taste between them. For there was a 'saying: " when a learned man dies at Seville, and his family wishes to sell his library, they send it to Cordova . . . When, on the con

trary a musician dies at C6rdova, and his instruments are to be disposed of, the custom is to send them to Seville . . . " So, you

see, then as now, Seville was the city of song: and, in those days at least, Cordova was the city of learning.

The spell of music has proved more potent than the magic of science, and more conducive to healthy longevity. Seville is still a capital, and a queen. Cordova is but a fragment of its former self; and in walking its cruelly paved streets, we seem to be tread ing a graveyard, so much of the former vitality lies buried beneath our feet - . - "' Three hundred inns, six hundred minor mosques, nine hundred baths, two hundred thousand houses, a million of inhabitants ! . . . " Such was Cordova in the days of the Caliphs,

when scholars even from the bleak north came flocking to its famous schools. And fancy can picture it then, as Damascus is now, such as Kinglake's magic pen has drawn it, spreading out. its length along the rivers edge-" a city of hidden palaces, of copses, and gardens, and fountains, and bubbling streams." For

were they not of quite the same race, the same creed; and almost.

the same climate, and the same soil.* At present the three hundred inns are replaced by a few well-kept hotels; of the six hundred

minor mosques the few that remain are rather neglected-looking chapels, and you have to dive down flights of steps to get into

* J am glad to find that Sir WYilliam Sterling Maxwell, in his charming biography of Don Juan of Austria, calls C6rdova thie Damascus of the West.



Notes of a Short Tr-ip to Spain. 311

some of them. As for the baths, I suspect most of the bathing is now done in the river which, alone unchanged, "flows on for ever." The population has dwindled to a twenty-fifth par t of what it was; and corn is grown and stamped out with horses' feet, amid the sites of the fairy palaces and hanging gardens, the sparkling fountains and streams, that ere now enlivened the wide-spreading suburbs of ancient Cord6va. " Sic transit gloria mundi! "

But what survives is bright and joyous; to be otherwise would be impossible in Andalusia. And as the place was voted "old fashioned " by "' Messileurs les commis-voyageurs," let me tell you that, on my arrival this afternoon, I was shown to a room fitted in the most modern manner, with a ceiling at least eighteen feet high, -all tastefully tinted, and with a floor delightfully done in encaustic tiles . . . And this evening, when I rang for a " luz," a stately .servant brought me, not a miserable " bougie," destined to figure next day in the bill, but a three-light massive silver candlestick, which did not figure. Nor was it a republican sneer, but a loyal smile, that greeted me from his dark and handsome face, as he respectfully wished "' buenas noches," and retired with a salute as -deep as if I were a marquis . . . Such is Andal&isia!

Cordova had not yet finished unbolting its windows and pon *derous doors when I was out again to finish exploring the great

Mosque.

In the middle, enclosed within lofty walls and with lofty vault ing overhead, is the " coro," with " capilla mayor," carved stalls, &c. Everyone makes the same remark: these cathedral fittings would be admirable elsewhere, but here they seem sadly out of place. " You have built here what you might have built anywhere ,else: to do so you have spoilt what was unique in the world."

Such was the petulant remark of the emperor Charles V. when the chapter showed him what was done under his own sign-manual, obtained while he was fighting battles far away, and thinking very little about Cordova and its Mosque.

Still, let not zesthetic indignation go too far-for was it not the conversion of this Mosque to Christian uses that saved it from demolition, and is it not this " coro " which keeps it a cathedral, -and thereby secures for the entire precincts the magic preservation in which we find them to-day.*

The interior walls of the Mosque are fringed with chapels, * Even at this early hour there were ladies praying, attended by their

'duenas and attired all in black, as at Seville.



312 Notes qf a Short Trip to Spain.

most of them mortuary. A king lay in one, a cardinal lies in another. Garcilasso de la Vega, he who accompanied Pulgar in the dashing night ride through GranAda, and killed the defiant

MIoor next day, lies in a third. He lived to be a distinguished diplomatist, but " most of the chapels are dedicated to the burial of those who succumbed in the struggle with the Moors," as Contreras remarks: and he mentions one Moorish champion, Osmln, " who sent more than one hero to the sombre vaults of this

cathedral." If Osmln could rise from his forgotten grave, what better memorial could he desire than this honour paid to their memory.

But not all the gra-ves are of warriors grim-the epitaplh on one runs thus:

AQUI YACE

EN

POL-VO, CENIZA

y

NAL)A

DA yNEZ HENRIQUJEZ VAI,ES

This Lady Ynez was probably in her day one of those proud Andalusian beauties on whose every line and movement ncature stamps her happiest grace, for a few fleeting years: and now the epitaph is too undeniably true: here she lies "in dust, ashes, and nothiingness ! "

Wandering away again amidst the Moorish naves and aisles, if you ask their exact number, you are met by the strange fact, that no two personis seem agreed about it. The discrepancy ranges.

widely, from eight hundred and odd, to fourteen hundred and fifty ! To me even the lesser estimate would seem quite beyond the possible limits of truth, considering the exact number of aisles. and naves, &c. Any smart young man could settle the controversy in a few hours, if he got a little help : but here the wide doubt seems to trouble no one, and perhaps the elasticity of figures is not with out its mysterious enjovment.

The Moors used to say that amongst these columns are three red ones, on which are engraved, " bv the hand of nature," things

wonderful to behold, viz.: on one, the crow of Noah ! . . . on another, the rod of Moses and the sleepers of the cave! .. . on the third, the name of Mohammed himself! . . . Polished agate

will represent almost anything, at least to people of lively imagi nation; and in that sense I do not disbelieve the old Moors; all 1I




can say is, that I did not see those columns. But I did see one,

near the middle of the north-western portion of the Mosque, on which is engravecd a crucifixion, roughly but distinctly and deeply: and the legend is that a Christian was chained to this column for a long number of years, like Bonnivard at Chillon, and that this crucifixion was engraved by him with his finger-nails ! ! !

On the left side of the principal nave, in this oldest and most important portion of the Mosque, is the "Macsoorah," correspond ing almost with the Christian coro;" for here the Caliph and his doctors used to take their places apart from the multitude, in face of the gorgeous Kiblah. It looks as if taken bodily from the Alhambra, with its traceried filigree of stucco, its azuleio tiles, and its precious mnarbles: and sculptured lions, here as there, again attest that the Spanish Arabs were not as particular in their avoid ance of animal forms as is generally supposed.

In this principal nave Almanzor suspended the bells of Com postella, and here they swung reversecd, to do duty as lamps, amidst chandeliers of silver, and gold, and burnished brass.

It struck me this nave is in line with the minaret, and there, too, bells were introduced, to summon the faithful to prayer after the manner of the Christians! But the tradition is, that the faith

ful never ceased lamenting till the chimes were removed; and then

the hearts of true believers were made glad, when the muezzin's call again "reverberated through the stillness of the night." It is only three days since an American, fresh from Tetuan, described to me this muezzin's call as a "hideous howl : " but no doubt it

was better intoned here in the days of the Caliphs, and fell on more sympathetic ears.

But let us away from this enchanted place, or I shall go on for

ever. Once out in the glare of day, one's steps turn towards the

old bridge that crosses the river, just outside the city walls. Built by the old Romnans, rebuilt by the Moors eleven centuries ago, it

consists of about fourteen arches, and is still in perfect order. It leads to the village where the gipsies dwell, andl where the real

Carmen lived: and by it you can explore the walls of every date

that encircle this ancient town. But alas! such exploring is nlot for me . . . 0 the dust, ankle deep, incredibly fine, and dazzlinig

bright, which carpets the bridge and all about it to-day, and bri)gs

my ramble to a sudden halt. It and it alone, is the cause why I

have nothing more to say . . . For, seeing it, I thought of how it would rise with the least breeze . . and, thinking of this, I paused ... and retreated . .. Good-bye!



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Notes of a Short Trip to Spain. Part VII: Visit to the Mosque of Cordova

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