FOOT-PRINTS OF THE MOORS IN SPAIN
"Every one buries his mother as he likes."
Moorish Proverb.
I. First Impressions.
Much as I had been prepared by the accounts of others to observe the prevalence of Moorish remains in the Peninsula, I was still forcibly struck at every turn by traces of their influence upon the country, especially in what was their chief home there, Andalucia. Though unconnected with these traces, an important item in strengthening this impression is the remarkable similarity between the natural features of the two countries. The general contour of the surface is the same on either side of the straits for a couple of hundred miles; the same broad plains, separated by low ranges of hills, and crossed by sluggish, winding streams, fed from distant snow-capped mountains, and subject to sudden floods. The very colours of the earth are the same in several regions, the soil being of that peculiar red which gives its name to the Blád Hamrá ("Red Country") near Marrákesh. This is especially observable in the vicinity of Jeréz, and again at Granáda, where one feels almost in[page 333] Morocco again. Even the colour of the rugged hills and rocks is the same, but more of the soil is cultivated than in any save the grain districts of Morocco.
The vegetation is strikingly similar, the aloe and the prickly pear, the olive and the myrtle abounding, while from the slight glimpses I was able to obtain of the flora, the identity seems also to be continued there. Yet all this, though interesting to the observer, is not to be wondered at. It is our habit of considering the two lands as if far apart, because belonging to separate continents, which leads us to expect a difference between countries divided only by a narrow gap of fourteen miles or less, but one from whose formation have resulted most important factors in the world's history.
The first striking reminders of the Moorish dominion are the names of Arabic origin. Some of the most noteworthy are Granáda (Gharnátah), Alcazar (El Kasar), Arjona (R'honah), Gibraltar (Gibel Tárik), Trafalgár (Tarf el Gharb, "West Point"), Medinah (Madînah, "Town"), Algeciras (El Jazîrah, "The Island"), Guadalquivir (Wád el Kebeer—so pronounced in Spain—"The Great River"), Mulahacen (Mulai el Hasan), Alhama (El Hama, "The Hot Springs"), and numberless others which might be mentioned, including almost every name beginning with "Al."
The rendering of these old Arabic words into Spanish presents a curious proof of the changes which the pronunciation of the Spanish alphabet has undergone during the last four centuries. To obtain anything like the Arabic sound it is necessary to give the letters precisely the same[page 334] value as in English, with the exception of pronouncing "x" as "sh." Thus the word "alhaja," in everyday use—though unrecognizable as heard from the lips of the modern Castilian, "aláha,"—is nothing but the Arabic "el hájah," with practically the same meaning in the plural, "things" or "goods." To cite more is unnecessary. The genuine pronunciation is still often met with among Jews of Morocco who have come little in contact with Spaniards, and retain the language of their ancestors when expelled from the Peninsula, as also in Spanish America.
The Spanish language is saturated with corrupted Arabic, at all events so far as nouns are concerned. The names of families also are frequently of Arabic origin, as, for instance, Alarcos (Er-Rakkás—"the courier"), Alhama, etc., most of which are to be met with more in the country than in the towns, while very many others, little suspected as such, are Jewish. Although when the most remarkable of nations was persecuted and finally expelled from Spain, a far larger proportion nobly sacrificed their all rather than accept the bauble religion offered them by "The Catholic Kings" (King and Queen), they also have left their mark, and many a noble family could, if it would, trace its descent from the Jews. Some of their synagogues are yet standing, notably at Toledo—whence the many Toledános,—built by Samuel Levy, who was secretary to Don Pedro the Cruel. This was in 1336, a century and a half before the Moors were even conquered, much less expelled, and if the sons of Ishmael have left their mark upon that sunny land, so have the sons of[page 335] Israel, though in a far different manner. Morocco has ever since been the home of the descendants of a large proportion of the exiles.
The Spanish physiognomy, not so much of the lower as of the upper classes, is strikingly similar to that of the mountaineers of Morocco, and these include some of the finest specimens. The Moors of to-day are of too mingled a descent to present any one distinct type of countenance, and it is the same with the Spaniards. So much of the blood of each flows in the veins of the other, that comparison is rendered more difficult. It is a well-known fact that several of the most ancient families in the kingdom can trace their descent from Mohammedans. A leading instance of this is the house of Mondéjar, lords of Granáda from the time of its conquest, as the then head of the house, Sidi Yahia, otherwise Don Pedro de Granáda, had become a Christian. In the Generalife at that town, still in the custody of the same family, is a genealogical tree tracing its origin right back to the Goths![*]
Next to physiognomy come habits and customs, and of these there are many which have been borrowed, or rather retained, from the Moors, especially in the country. The ploughs, the water-mills, the water-wheels, the irrigation, the treading out of the corn, the weaving of coarse cloth, and many other daily sights, from their almost complete similarity, remind one of Morocco. The bread-shops they call "tahônas," unaware that this is the Arabic for a flour-mill; their water-wheels they still call by their Arabic name, "naôrahs," and it is[page 336] the same with their pack-saddles, "albardas" (bardah). The list might be extended indefinitely, even from such common names as these.
The salutations of the people seem literal translations of those imported from the Orient, such as I am not aware of among other Europeans. What, for instance, is "Dios guarda Vd." ("God keep you"), said at parting, but the "Allah îhannak" of Morocco, or "se lo passe bien," but "B'is-salámah" ("in peace!"). More might be cited, but to those unacquainted with Arabic they would be of little interest.
Then, again, the singing of the country-folk in southern Spain has little to distinguish it from that indulged in by most Orientals. The same sing-song drawl with numerous variations is noticeable throughout. Once a more civilized tune gets among these people for a few months, its very composer would be unlikely to recognize its prolongations and lazy twists.
The narrow, tortuous streets of the old towns once occupied by the invaders take one back across the straits, and the whole country is covered with spots which, apart from any remains of note, are associated by record or legend with anecdotes from that page of Spanish history. Here it is the "Sigh of the Moor," the spot from which the last Ameer of Andalucia gazed in sorrow on the capital that he had lost; there it is a cave (at Criptana) where the Moors found refuge when their power in Castile was broken; elsewhere are the chains (in Toledo) with which the devotees of Islám chained their Christian captives.
In addition to this, the hills of a great part[page 337] of Spain are dotted with fortresses of "tabia" (rammed earth concrete) precisely such as are occupied still by the country kaïds of Morocco; and by the wayside are traces of the skill exercised in bringing water underground from the hills beyond Marrákesh. How many church towers in Spain were built for the call of the muédhdhin, and how many houses had their foundations laid for hareems! In the south especially such are conspicuous from their design. To crown all stand the palaces and mosques of Córdova, Sevílle, and Granáda, not to mention minor specimens.
When we talk of the Moors in Spain, we often forget how nearly we were enabled to speak also of the Moors in France. Their brave attempts to pass that natural barrier, the Pyrenees, find a suitable monument in the perpetual independence of the wee republic of Andorra, whose inhabitants so successfully stemmed the tide of invasion. The story of Charles Martel, too, the "Hammer" who broke the Muslim power in that direction, is one of the most important in the history of Europe. What if the people who were already levying taxes in the districts of Narbonne and Nîmes had found as easy a victory over the vineyards of southern France, as they had over those of Spain? Where would they have stopped? Would they ever have been driven out, or would St. Paul's have been a second Kûtûbîya, and Westminster a Karûeeïn? God knows!
[*] Andalucia is but a corruption of Vandalucia.
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II. Córdova
The earliest notable monument of Moorish dominion in Andalucia still existing is the famous mosque of Córdova, now deformed into a cathedral. Its erection occupied the period from 786 to 796 of the Christian era, and it is said that it stands on the site of a Gothic church erected on the ruins of a still earlier temple dedicated to Janus. Portions, however, have been added since that date, as inscriptions on the walls record, and the European additions date from 1521, when, notwithstanding the protests of the people of Córdova, the bishops obtained permission from Charles V. to rear the present quasi-Gothic structure in its central court. The disgust and anger which the lover of Moorish architecture—or art of any sort—feels for the name of "Carlos quinto," as at point after point hideous additions to the Moorish remains are ascribed to that conceited monarch, are somewhat tempered for once by the record that even he repented when he saw the result of his permission in this instance. "You have built here," he said, "what you might have built anywhere, and in doing so you have spoiled what was unique in the world!" In each of the three great centres of Moorish rule, Sevílle, Granáda and Córdova, the same hand is responsible for outrageous modern erections in the midst of hoary monuments of eastern art, carefully inscribed with their author's name, as "Cæsar the Emperor, Charles the Fifth."
The Córdova Mosque, antedated only by those of Old Cairo and Kaïrwán, is a forest of marble[page 339] pillars, with a fine court to the west, surrounded by an arcade, and planted with orange trees and palms, interspersed with fountains. Nothing in Morocco can compare with it save the Karûeeïn mosque at Fez, built a century later, but that building is too low, and the pillars are for the most part mere brick erections, too short to afford the elegance which here delights. This is grand in its simplicity; nineteen aisles of slightly tapering columns of beautiful marbles, jasper or porphyry, about nine feet in height, supporting long vistas of flying horse-shoe arches, of which the stones are now coloured alternately yellow and red, though probably intended to be all pure white. Other still more elegant scolloped arches, exquisitely decorated by carving the plaster, spring between alternate pillars, and from arch to arch, presumably more modern work.
The aisles are rather over twenty feet in width, and the thirty-three cross vaultings about half as much, while the height of the roof is from thirty to forty feet. In all, the pillars number about 500, though frequently stated to total 850 out of an original 1419, but it is difficult to say where all these can be, since the sum of 33 by 19 is only 627, and a deduction has to be made for the central court, in which stands the church or choir. Since these notes were first published, in 1890, I have seen it disputed between modern impressionist writers which of them first described the wonderful scene as a palm grove, a comparison of which I had never heard when I wrote, but the wonder to me would be if any one could attempt to picture the scene without making use of it.
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Who but a nation of nomads, accustomed to obey the call to prayer beneath the waving branches of African and Arabian palm-groves, would have dreamed of raising such a House of God? Unless for the purpose of supporting a wide and solid roof, or of dividing the centre into the form of a cross, what other ecclesiastical architects would have conceived the idea of filling a place of worship with pillars or columns? No one who has walked in a palm-grove can fail to be struck by the resemblance to it of this remarkable mosque. The very tufted heads with their out-curving leaves are here reproduced in the interlacing arches, and with the light originally admitted by the central court and the great doors, the present somewhat gloomy area would have been bright and pleasant as a real grove, with its bubbling fountains, and the soothing sound of trickling streams. I take the present skylights to be of modern construction, as I never saw such a device in a Moorish building.
Most of the marble columns are the remains of earlier erections, chiefly Roman, like the bridge over the Guadalquivir close by, restored by the builder of the mosque. Some, indeed, came from Constantinople, and others were brought from the south of France. They are neither uniform in height nor girth—some having been pieced at the bottom, and others partly buried;—so also with the capitals, certain of which are evidently from the same source as the pillars, while the remainder are but rude imitations, mostly Corinthian in style. The original expenses of the building were furnished by a fifth of the booty taken from the Spaniards, with the subsidies raised in Catalonia and Narbonne. The[page 341] Moors supplied voluntary, and European captives forced labour.
On Fridays, when the Faithful met in thousands for the noon-day prayer, what a sight and what a melody! The deep, rich tones of the organ may add impressiveness to a service of worship, but there is nothing in the world so grand, so awe-inspiring as the human voice. When a vast body of males repeats the formulæ of praise, together, but just slightly out of time, the effect once heard is never forgotten. I have heard it often, and as I walk these aisles I hear it ringing in my ears, and can picture to myself a close-packed row of white-robed figures between each pillar, and rows from end to end between, all standing, stooping, or forehead on earth, as they follow the motions of the leader before them. A grand sight it is, whatever may be one's opinion of their religion. In the manner they sit on the matted floors of their mosques there would be room here for thirteen thousand without using the Orange Court, and there is little doubt that on days when the Court attended it used to be filled to its utmost.
To the south end of the cathedral the floor of two wide aisles is raised on arches, exactly opposite the niche which marks the direction of Mekka, and the space above is more richly decorated than any other portion of the edifice except the niche itself. This doubtless formed the spot reserved for the Ameer and his Court, screened off on three sides to prevent the curiosity of the worshippers overcoming their devotion, as is still arranged in the mosques which the Sultan of Morocco attends in his capitals. Until a few years ago this rich[page 342] work in arabesque and tiles was hidden by plaster.
The kiblah niche is a gem of its kind. It consists of a horse-shoe arch, the face of which is ornamented with gilded glass mosaic, forming the entrance to a semi-circular recess beautifully adorned with arabesques and inscriptions, the top of the dome being a large white marble slab hollowed out in the form of a pecten shell. The wall over the entrance is covered with texts from the Korán, forming an elegant design, and on either side are niches of lesser merit, but serving to set off the central one which formed the kiblah. Eleven centuries have elapsed since the hands of the workmen left it, and still it stands a witness of the pitch of art attained by the Berbers in Spain.
It is said that here was deposited a copy of the Korán written by Othmán himself, and stained with his blood, of such a size that two men could hardly lift it. When, for a brief period, the town fell into the hands of Alfonso VII., his soldiers used the mosque as a stable, and tore up this valuable manuscript. When a Moorish Embassy was sent to Madrid some years ago, the members paid a visit to this relic of the greatness of their forefathers, and to the astonishment of the custodians, having returned to the court-yard to perform the required ablutions, re-entered, slippers in hand, to go through the acts of worship as naturally as if at home. What a strange sight for a Christian cathedral! Right in front of the niche is a plain marble tomb with no sign but a plain bar dexter. Evidently supposing this to be the resting-place of some saint of their own persuasion, they made the[page 343] customary number of revolutions around it. It would be interesting to learn from their lips what their impressions were.
Of the tower which once added to the imposing appearance of the building, it is recorded that it had no rival in height known to the builders. It was of stone, and, like one still standing in Baghdád from the days of Harûn el Rasheed, had two ways to the top, winding one above the other, so that those who ascended by the one never met those descending by the other. According to custom it was crowned by three gilded balls, and it had fourteen windows. This was of considerably later date than the mosque itself, but has long been a thing of the past.
The European additions to the Córdova mosque are the choir, high altar, etc., which by themselves would make a fine church, occupying what must have been originally a charming court, paved with white marble and enlivened by fountains; the tower, built over the main entrance, opening into the Court of Oranges; and a score or two of shrines with iron railings in front round the sides, containing altars, images, and other fantastic baubles to awe the ignorant. An inscription in the tower records that it was nearly destroyed by the earth-quake of 1755, and though it is the least objectionable addition, it is a pity that it did not fall on that or some subsequent occasion. It was raised on the ruins of its Moorish predecessor in 1593. The chief entrance, like that of Sevílle, is a curious attempt to blend Roman architecture with Mauresque, having been restored in 1377, but the result is not bad. Recent "restorations" are observable[page 344] in some parts of the mosque, hideous with colour, but a few of the original beams are still visible. I am inclined to consider the greater part of the roof modern, but could not inspect it closely enough to be certain. Though vaulted inside, it is tiled in ridges in the usual Moorish style, but very few green tiles are to be seen.
From the tower the view reminds one strongly of Morocco. The hills to the north and south, with the river winding close to the town across the fertile plain, give the scene a striking resemblance to that from the tower of the Spanish consulate at Tetuan. All around are the still tortuous streets of a Moorish town, though the roofs of the houses are tiled in ridges of Moorish pattern, as those of Tangier were when occupied by the English two hundred years ago, and as those of El K'sar are now.
The otherwise Moorish-looking building at one's feet is marred by the unsightly erection in the centre, and its court-yard seems to have degenerated into a play-ground, where the neighbours saunter or fill pitchers from the fountains.
After enduring the apparently unceasing din of the bells in those erstwhile stations of the muédhdhin, one ceases to wonder that the lazy Moors have such a detestation for them, and make use instead of the stirring tones of the human voice. Rest and quiet seem impossible in their vicinity, for their jarring is simply head-splitting. And as if they were not excruciating enough, during "Holy Week" they conspire against the ear-drums of their victims by revolving a sort of infernal machine made of wood in the form of a hollow cross, with[page 345] four swinging hammers on each arm which strike against iron plates as the thing goes round. The keeper's remark that the noise was awful was superfluous.
The history of the town of Córdova has been as chequered as that of most Andalucian cities. Its foundation is shrouded in obscurity. The Romans and Vandals had in turn been its masters before the Moors wrested it from the Spaniards in the year 710 a.d. Though the Spaniards regained possession of it in 1075, it was not for long, as it soon fell into the hands of the invaders once more. The Spanish victors only left a Moorish viceroy in charge, who proved too true a Berber to serve against his countrymen, so he betrayed his trust. In 1236 it was finally recovered by the Spaniards, after five hundred and twenty-four years of Moorish rule. Since that time the traces of that epoch of its history have been gradually disappearing, till there only remain the mutilated mosque, and portions of the ancient palace, or of saint-houses (as the side-chapel of the Church of St. Miguel), and of a few dwellings. Since the first train steamed to this ancient city, in 1859, the railway has probably brought as many pilgrims to the mosque as ever visited it from other motives in its greatest days.
The industry founded here by the Moors—that of tanning—which has given its name to a trade in several countries,[*] seems to have gone with them to Morocco, for though many of the old tan-pits still exist by the river side, no leather of any repute is now produced here. The Moorish[page 346] water-mills are yet at work though, having been repaired and renewed on the original model. These, as at Granáda and other places, are horizontal wheels worked from a small spout above, directly under the mill-stone, such as is met with in Fez and Tetuan.
[*] Sp. cordován, Fr. cordonnier, Eng. cordwainer, etc.
III. Sevílle
In the Girálda tower of Sevílle I expected to find a veritable Moorish trophy in the best state of preservation, open to that minute inspection which was impossible in the only complete specimen of such a tower, the Kutûbîya, part of a mosque still in use. Imagine, then, my regret on arriving at the foot of that venerable monument, to find it "spick and span," as if just completed, looking new and tawdry by the side of the cathedral which has replaced the mosque it once adorned. Instead of the hoary antiquity to which the rich deep colour of the stone of the sister towers in Morocco bears witness in their weather-beaten glory, this one, built, above the first few stone courses, of inch pan-tiles, separated by a like thickness of mortar, has the appearance of having been newly pointed and rubbed down, while faded frescoes on the walls testify to the barbarity of the conquerors of the "barbarians."
The delicate tracery in hewn stone which adds so greatly to the beauty of the Morocco and Tlemçen examples, is almost entirely lacking, while the once tasteful horse-shoe windows are now pricked out in red and yellow, with a hideous modern balcony of white stone before each. The[page 347] quasi-Moorish belfry is the most pardonable addition, but to crown all is an exhibition of incongruity which has no excuse. The original tile-faced turret of the Moors, with its gilded balls, has actually been replaced by a structure of several storeys, the first of which is Doric, the second Ionic, and the third Corinthian. Imagine this crowning the comely severity of the solid Moorish structure without a projecting ornament! But this is not all. Swinging in gaunt uneasiness over the whole, stands a huge revolving statue, supposed to represent Faith, holding out in one hand a shield which catches the wind, and causes it to act as a weather-vane.
Such is the Girálda of the twentieth century, and the guide-books are full of praises for the restorer, who doubtless deserves great credit for his skill in repairing the tower after it had suffered severely from lightning, but who might have done more towards restoring the original design, at all events in the original portion. We read in "Raôd el Kártás" that the mosque was finished and the tower commenced in 1197, during the reign of Mulai Yakûb el Mansûr, who commenced its sisters at Marrákesh and Rabat in the same year. One architect is recorded to have designed all three—indeed, they have little uncommon in their design, and have been once almost alike. Some assert that this man was a Christian, but there is nothing in the style of building to favour such a supposition.
The plan is that of all the mosque towers of Morocco, and the only tower of a mosque in actual use which I have ascended in that country—one at Mogador—was just a miniature of this. It is, therefore, in little else than point of size that these[page 348] three are remarkable. The similarity between these and the recently fallen tower of St. Mark's at Venice is most striking, both in design and in the method of ascent by an inclined plane; while around the Italian lakes are to be seen others of less size, but strongly resembling these.
All three are square, and consist of six to eight storeys in the centre, with thick walls and vaulted roof, surrounded by an inclined plane from base to summit, at an angle which makes it easy walking, and horses have been ridden up. The unfinished Hassan Tower at Rabat having at one time become a place of evil resort, the reigning ameer ordered the way up to be destroyed, but it was found so hard that only the first round was cut away, and the door bricked up. Each ramp of the Girálda, if I remember rightly, has its window, but in the Hassan many are without light, though at least every alternate one has a window, some of these being placed at the corner to serve for two, while here they are always in the centre. The Girálda proper contains seven of these storeys, with thirty-five ramps. To the top of the eighth storey, which is the first addition, dating from the sixteenth century, now used as a belfry, the height is about 220 feet. The present total height is a little over 300 feet.
The original turret of the Girálda, similar to that at Marrákesh, was destroyed in 1396 by a hurricane. The additions were finished in 1598. An old view, still in existence, and dating from the thirteenth century, shows it in its pristine glory, and there is another—Moorish—as old as the tower itself.
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After all that I had read and heard of the palace at Sevílle, I was more disappointed than even in the case of the Girálda. Not only does it present nothing imposing in the way of Moorish architecture, but it has evidently been so much altered by subsequent occupants as to have lost much of its original charm. To begin with the outside, instead of wearing the fine crumbling appearance of the palaces of Morocco or Granáda, this also had been all newly plastered till it looks like a work of yesterday, and coloured a not unbecoming red. Even the main entrance has a Gothic inscription half way up, and though its general aspect is that of Moorish work, on a closer inspection, the lower part at least is seen to be an imitation, as in many ways the unwritten laws of that style have been widely departed from. The Gothic inscription states that Don Pedro I. built it in 1364.
Inside, the general ground plan remains much as built, but connecting doorways have been opened where Moors never put them, and with the exception of the big raised tank in the corner, there is nothing African about the garden. Even the plan has been in places destroyed to obtain rooms of a more suitable width for the conveniences of European life. The property is a portion of the Royal patrimony, and is from time to time occupied by the reigning sovereign when visiting Sevílle. A marble tablet in one of these rooms tells of a queen having been born there during the last century.
Much of the ornamentation on the walls is of course original, as well as some of the ceilings and doors, but the "restorations" effected at various[page 350] epochs have greatly altered the face of things. Gaudy colours show up both walls and ceilings, but at the same time greatly detract from their value, besides which there are coarse imitations of the genuine tile-work, made in squares, with lines in relief to represent the joints, as well as patterns painted on the plaster to fill up gaps in the designs. Then, too, the most prominent parts of the ornamentation have been disfigured by the interposition of Spanish shields and coats-of-arms on tiles. The border round the top of the dado is alternated with these all the way round some of the rooms. To crown all, certain of the fine old doors, resembling a wooden patchwork, have been "restored" with plaster-of-Paris. Some of the arabesques which now figure on these walls were actually pillaged from the Alhambra.
Many of the Arabic inscriptions have been pieced so as to render them illegible, and some have been replaced upside down, while others tell their own tale, for they ascribe glory and might to a Spanish sovereign, Don Pedro the Cruel, instead of to a "Leader of the Faithful." A reference to the history of the country tells us that this ruler "reconstructed" the palace of the Moors, while later it was repaired by Don Juan II., before Ferdinand and Isabella built their oratories within its precincts, or Charles V., with his mania for "improving" these monuments of a foreign dominion, doubled it in size. For six centuries this work, literally of spoliation, has been proceeding in the hands of successive owners; what other result than that arrived at, could be hoped for?
When this is realized, the greater portion of[page 351] the historic value of this palace vanishes, and its original character as a Moorish palace is seen to have almost disappeared. There still, however, remains the indisputable fact, apparent from what does remain of the work of its builders, that it was always a work of art and a trophy of the skill of its designers, those who have interfered with it subsequently having far from improved it.
According to Arab historians, the foundations of this palace were laid in 1171 a.d. and it was reconstructed between 1353 and 1364. In 1762 a fire did considerable damage, which was not repaired till 1805. The inscriptions are of no great historical interest. "Wa lá ghálib ílá Allah"—"there is none victorious but God"—abounds here, as at the Alhambra, and there are some very neat specimens of the Kufic character.
Of Moorish Sevílle, apart from the Girálda and the Palace—El Kasar, corrupted into Alcazar—the only remains of importance are the Torre del Oro—Borj ed-Daheb—built in 1220 at the riverside, close to where the Moors had their bridge of boats, and the towers of the churches of SS. Marcos and Marina. Others there are, built in imitation of the older erections, often by Moorish architects, as those of the churches of Omnium Sanctorum, San Nicolas, Ermita de la Virgen, and Santa Catalina. Many private houses contain arches, pillars, and other portions of Moorish buildings which have preceded them, such as are also to be found in almost every town of southern Spain. As late as 1565 the town had thirteen gates more or less of Moorish origin, but these have all long since disappeared.
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Sevílle was one of the first cities to surrender to the Moors after the battle of Guadalete, a.d. 711, and remained in their hands till taken by St. Ferdinand after fifteen months' siege in 1248, six years after its inhabitants had thrown off their allegiance to the Emperor of Morocco, and formed themselves into a sort of republic, and ten years after the Moorish Kingdom of Granáda was founded. It then became the capital of Spain till Charles V. removed the Court to Valladolid.
IV. Granáda
"O Palace Red! From distant lands I have come to see thee, believing thee to be a garden in spring, but I have found thee as a tree in autumn. I thought to see thee with my heart full of joy, but instead my eyes have filled with tears."
So wrote in the visitors' album of the Alhambra, in 1876, an Arab poet in his native tongue, and another inscription in the same volume, written by a Moor some years before, remarks, "Peace be on thee, O Granáda! We have seen thee and admired thee, and have said, 'Praised be he who constructed thee, and may they who destroyed thee receive mercy.'"
As the sentiments of members of the race of its builders, these expressions are especially interesting; but they can hardly fail to be shared to some extent by visitors from eastern lands, of whatever nationality. Although the loveliest monument of Moorish art in Spain, and a specimen of their highest architectural skill, destructions, mutilations, and restorations have[page 353] wrought so much damage to it that it now stands, indeed, "as a tree in autumn." It was not those who conquered the Moors on whom mercy was implored by the writer quoted—for they, Ferdinand and Isabella, did their best to preserve their trophy—but on such of their successors as Charles V., who actually planted a still unfinished palace right among the buildings of this venerable spot, adjoining the remains of the Alhambra, part of which it has doubtless replaced.
This unartistic Austrian styled these remains "the ugly abominations of the Moors," and forthwith proceeded to erect really ugly structures. But the most unpardonable destroyers of all that the Moors left beautiful were, perhaps, the French, who in 1810 entered Granáda with hardly a blow, and under Sebastian practically desolated the palace. They turned it into barracks and storehouses, as inscriptions on its walls still testify—notably on the sills of the "Miranda de la Reina." Ere they left in 1812, they even went so far as to blow up eight of the towers, the remainder only escaping through the negligence of an employee, and the fuses were put out by an old Spanish soldier.
The Spaniards having thus regained possession, the commissioners appointed to look after it "sold everything for themselves, and then, like good patriots, reported that the invaders had left nothing." After a brief respite in the care of an old woman, who exhibited more sense in the matter than all the generals who had perpetrated such outrages upon it, the Alhambra was again desecrated by a new Governor, who used it as a store of salt fish for the galley slaves.
[page 354]
While the old woman—Washington Irving's "Tia Antonia"—was in possession, that famous writer did more than any one to restore the ancient fame of the palace by coming to stay there, and writing his well-known account of his visit. Mr. Forde, and his friend Mr. Addington, the British Ambassador, helped to remind people of its existence, and saved what was left. Subsequent civil wars have, however, afforded fresh opportunities of injury to its hoary walls, and to-day it stands a mere wreck of what it once was.
The name by which these buildings are now known is but the adjective by which the Arabs described it, "El Hamra," meaning "The Red," because of its colour outside. When occupied it was known only as either "The Palace of Granáda," or "The Red Palace." The colour of the earth here is precisely that of the plains of Dukála and Marrákesh, and the buildings, being all constructed of tabia, are naturally of that colour. In no part of Spain could one so readily imagine one's self in Morocco; indeed, it is hard to realize that one is not there till the new European streets are reached. In the palace grounds, apart from the fine carriage-drive, with its seats and lamp-posts, when out of sight of the big hotels and other modern erections, the delusion is complete. Even in the town the running water and the wayside fountains take one back to Fez; and the channels underneath the pavements with their plugs at intervals are only Moorish ones repaired. On walking the crooked streets of the part which formed the town of four centuries ago, on every hand the names are Moorish. Here is the Kaisarîya, restored after a fire in[page 355] 1843; there is the street of the grain fandaks, and beyond is a hammám, now a dwelling-house.
The site of the chief mosque is now the cathedral, in the chief chapel of which are buried the conquerors of Granáda. There lie Ferdinand and Isabella in plain iron-bound leaden coffins—far from the least interesting sights of the place—in a spot full of memories of that contest which they considered the event of their lives, and which was indeed of such vital importance to the country. The inscription on their marble tomb in the church above tells how that the Moors having been conquered and heresy stamped out (?), that worthy couple took their rest. The very atmosphere of the place seems charged with reminiscences of the Moors and their successful foes, and here the spirits of Prescott and Gayangos, the historians, seem to linger still.
On either side of the high altar are extremely interesting painted carvings. On one is figured the delivering up of the Alhambra. Ferdinand, Isabella and Mendoza ride in a line, and the latter receives the key in his gloved hand as the conquered king offers him the ring end, followed by a long row of captives. Behind the victors ride their knights and dames. On the other the Moors and Mooresses are seen being christened wholesale by the monks, their dresses being in some respects remarkably correct in detail, but with glaring defects in others, just what might be expected from one whose acquaintance with them was recent but brief.
Before these carvings kneel real likenesses of the royal couple in wood, and on the massive[page 356] square tomb in front they repose in alabaster. A fellow-tomb by their side has been raised to the memory of their immediate successors. In the sacristry are to be seen the very robes of Cardinal Mendoza, and his missal, with the sceptre and jewel-case of Isabella, and the sword of Ferdinand, while that of the conquered Bû Abd Allah is on view elsewhere. Here, too, are the standards unfurled on the day of the recapture, January 2, 1492, and a picture full of interest, recording the adieux of "Boabdil" and Ferdinand, who, after their bitter contest, have shaken hands and are here falling on each other's necks.
As a model of Moorish art, the palace of Granáda, commenced in 1248, is a monument of its latest and most refined period. The heavy and comparatively simple styles of Córdova and Sevílle are here amplified and refined, the result being the acme of elegance and oriental taste. This I say from personal acquaintance with the temples of the far East, although those present a much more gorgeous appearance, and are much more costly erections, evincing a degree of architectural ability and the possession of hoards of wealth beside which what the builders of the Alhambra could boast of was insignificant; nor do I attempt to compare these interesting relics with the equally familiar immensity of ancient masonry, or with the magnificent work of the Middle Ages still existing in Europe. These monuments hold a place of their own, unique and unassailable. They are the mementoes of an era in the history of Europe, not only of the Peninsula, and the interest which attaches itself to them even on this score alone[page 357] is very great. As relics on a foreign soil, they have stood the storms of five centuries under the most trying circumstances, and the simplicity of their components lends an additional charm to the fabric. They are to a great extent composed of what are apparently the weakest materials—mud, gypsum, and wood; the marble and tiles are but adornments.
From without the appearance of the palace has been well described as that of "reddish cork models rising out of a girdle of trees." On a closer inspection the "cork" appears like red sandstone, and one wonders how it has stood even one good storm. There is none of that facing of stone which gives most other styles of architecture an appearance of durability, and whatever facing of plaster it may once have possessed has long since disappeared. But inside all is different. Instead of crumbling red walls, the courts and apartments are highly ornamented with what we now call plaster-of-Paris, but which the Moors have long prepared by roasting the gypsum in rude kilns, calling it "gibs."
A full description of each room or court-yard would better become a guide-book, and to those who have the opportunity of visiting the spot, I would recommend Ford's incomparable "Handbook to Spain," published by Murray, the older the edition the better. To those who can read Spanish, the "Estudio descriptivo de los Monumentos arabes," by the late Sr. Contreras (Government restorer of the Moorish remains in Spain), to be obtained in Granáda, is well worth reading. Such information as a visitor would need to correct the mistaken impressions of these and other writers[page 358] ignorant of Moorish usages as to the original purpose of the various apartments, I have embodied in Macmillan's "Guide to the Western Mediterranean."
Certain points, however, either for their architectural merit or historic interest, cannot be passed over. Such is the Court of the Lions, of part of which a model disfigured by garish painting may be seen at the Crystal Palace. In some points it is resembled by the chief court of the mosque of the Karûeeïn at Fez. In the centre is that strange departure from the injunctions of the Korán which has given its name to the spot, the alabaster fountain resting on the loins of twelve beasts, called, by courtesy, "lions." They remind one rather of cats. "Their faces barbecued, and their manes cut like the scales of a griffin, and the legs like bed-posts; a water-pipe stuck in their mouths does not add to their dignity." In the inscription round the basin above, among flowery phrases belauding the fountain, and suggesting that the work is so fine that it is difficult to distinguish the water from the alabaster, the spectator is comforted with the assurance that they cannot bite!
The court is surrounded by the usual tiled verandah, supported by one hundred and twenty-two light and elegant white marble pillars, the arches between which show some eleven different forms. At each end is a portico jutting out from the verandahs, and four cupolas add to the appearance of the roofs. The length of the court is twice its width, which is sixty feet, and on each side lies a beautiful decorated apartment with the unusual additions of jets of water from the floor in the[page 359] centre of each, as also before each of the three doors apiece of the long narrow Moorish rooms, and under the two porticoes. The overflows, instead of being hidden pipes, are channels in the marble pavement, for the Moors were too great lovers of rippling water to lose the opportunity as we cold-blooded northerners would.
To fully realize the delights of such a place one must imagine it carpeted with the products of Rabat, surrounded by soft mattresses piled with cushions, and with its walls hung with a dado of dark-coloured felt cloths of various colours, interworked to represent pillars and arches such as surround the gallery, and showing up the beautiful white of the marble by contrast. Thus furnished—in true Moorish style—the place should be visited on a hot summer's day, after a wearisome toil up the hill from the town. Then, lolling among the cushions, and listening to the splashing water, if strong sympathy is not felt with the builders of the palace, who thought it a paradise, the visitor ought never to have left his armchair by the fire-side at home.
If, instead of wasting money on re-plastering the walls until they look ready for papering, and then scratching geometrical designs upon them in a style no Moor ever dreamed of, the Spanish Government would entrust a Moor of taste to decorate it in his own native style, without the modern European additions, they would do far better and spend less. One step further, and the introduction of Moorish guides and caretakers who spoke Spanish—easy to obtain—would add fifty per cent. to the interest of the place. Then fancy the Christian and Muslim knights meeting in single combat on the plains beneath those[page 360] walls. People once more the knolls and pastures with the turban and the helm, fill in the colours of robe and plume; oh, what a picture it would make!
Doubtless similar apartments for the hareem exist in the recesses of the palaces of Fez, Mequinez, Marrákesh and Rabat. Some very fine work is to be seen in the comparatively public parts, in many respects equalling this, and certainly better than that of the palace of Sevílle. Various alterations and "restorations" have been effected from time to time in this as in other parts of the palace, notably in the fountain, the top part of which is modern. It is probable that originally there was only one basin, resting immediately on the "lions" below. Its date is given as 1477 a.d.
The room known for disputed reasons as the Hall of the Two Sisters was originally a bedroom. The entrance is one of the most elaborate in the palace, and its wooden ceiling, pieced to resemble stalactites, is a charming piece of work, as also are those of the other important rooms of the palace.
Another apartment opening out of the Court of Lions, known as the Hall of Justice—most likely in error—contains one of the most curious remains in the palace, another departure from the precepts of the religion professed by its builders. This is no less than a series of pictures painted on skins sewn together, glued and fastened to the wooden dome with tinned tacks, and covered with a fine coating of gypsum, the gilt parts being in relief. Though the date of their execution must have been in the fourteenth century, the colours are still clear and fresh. The picture in the centre of the three domes[page 361] is supposed by some to represent ten Moorish kings of Granáda, though it is more likely meant for ten wise men in council. On the other two ceilings are pictures, one of a lady holding a chained lion, on the point of being delivered from a man in skins by a European, who is afterwards slain by a mounted Moor. The other is of a boar-hunt and people drinking at a fountain, with a man up a tree in a dress which looks remarkably like that of the eighteenth century in England, wig and all. This work must have been that of some Christian renegade, though considerable discussion has taken place over the authorship. It is most likely that the lions are of similar origin, sculptured by some one who had but a remote idea of the king of the forest.
After the group of apartments surrounding the Court of the Lions, the most valuable specimen of Moorish architecture is that known as the Hall of the Ambassadors, probably once devoted to official interviews, as its name denotes. This is the largest room in the palace, occupying the upper floor in one of the massive towers which defended the citadel, overlooking the Vega and the remains of the camp-town of Santa Fé, built during the siege by the "Catholic Kings." The thickness of its walls is therefore immense, and the windows look like little tunnels; under it are dungeons. The hall is thirty-seven feet square, and no less than seventy-five feet high in the centre of the roof, which is not the original one. Some of the finest stucco wall decoration in the place is to be seen here, with elegant Arabic inscriptions, in the ancient style of ornamental writing known as Kufic, most of the instances of the latter meaning, "O God, to Thee be endless praise,[page 362] and thanks ascending." Over the windows are lines in cursive Arabic, ascribing victory and glory to the "leader of the resigned, our lord the father of the pilgrims" (Yûsef I.), with a prayer for his welfare, while everywhere is to be seen here, as in other parts, the motto, "and there is none victorious but God."
Between the two blocks already described lie the baths, the undressing-room of which has been very creditably restored by the late Sr. Contreras, and looks splendid. It is, in fact, a covered patio with the gallery of the next floor running round, and as no cloth hangings or carpets could be used here, the walls and floor are fully decorated with stucco and tiles. The inner rooms are now in fair condition, and are fitted with marble, though the boiler and pipes were sold long ago by a former "keeper" of the palace. The general arrangement is just the same as that of the baths in Morocco.
One room of the palace was fitted up by Ferdinand and Isabella as a chapel, the gilt ornaments of which look very gaudy by the side of the original Moorish work. Opening out of this is a little gem of a mosque, doubtless intended for the royal devotions alone, as it is too small for a company.
Surrounding the palace proper are several other buildings forming part of the Alhambra, which must not be overlooked. Among them are the two towers of the Princesses and the Captives, both of which have been ably repaired. In the latter are to be seen tiles of a peculiar rosy tint, not met with elsewhere. In the Dar Aïshah ("Gabinete de Lindaraxa"—"x" pronounced as "sh") are excellent specimens of those with a metallic hue, resembling[page 363] the colours on the surface of tar-water. Ford points out that it was only in these tiles that the Moors employed any but the primary colours, with gold for yellow. This is evident, and holds good to the present day. Both these towers give a perfect idea of a Moorish house of the better class in miniature. Outside the walls are of the rough red of the mud concrete, while inside they are nearly all white, and beautifully decorated. The thickness of the walls keeps them delightfully cool, and the crooked passages render the courts in the centre quite private.
Of the other towers and gates, the only notable one is that of Justice, a genuine Moorish erection with a turning under it to stay the onrush of an enemy, and render it easier of defence. The hand carved on the outer arch and the key on the inner one have given rise to many explanations, but their only significance was probably that this gate was the key of the castle, while the hand was to protect the key from the effects of the evil eye. This superstition is still popular, and its practice is to be seen to-day on thousands of doors in Morocco, in rudely painted hands on the doorposts.
The Watch Tower (de la Vela) is chiefly noteworthy as one of the points from which the Spanish flag was unfurled on the memorable day of the entry into Granáda. The anniversary of that date, January 2nd, is a high time for the young ladies, who flock here to toll the bell in the hopes of being provided with a husband during the new-begun year.
At a short distance from the Alhambra itself is a group known as the Torres Bermejas (Vermilion[page 364] Towers), probably the most ancient of the Moorish reign, if part did not exist before their settlement here, but they present no remarkable architectural features.
Across a little valley is the Generalife, a charming summer residence built about 1320, styled by its builder the "Paradise of the Wise,"—Jinah el Arîf—which the Spaniards have corrupted to its present designation, pronouncing it Kheneraliffy. Truly this is a spot after the Moor's own heart: a luxuriant garden with plenty of dark greens against white walls and pale-blue trellis-work, harmonious at every turn with the rippling and splashing of nature's choicest liquid. Of architectural beauty the buildings in this garden have but little, yet as specimens of Moorish style—though they have suffered with the rest—they form a complement to the Alhambra. That is the typical fortress-palace, the abode of a martial Court; this is the pleasant resting-place, the cool retreat for love and luxury. Nature is here predominant, and Art has but a secondary place, for once retaining her true position as great Nature's handmaid. Light arched porticoes and rooms behind serve but as shelter from the noonday glare, while roomy turrets treat the occupier to delightful views. Superfluous ornament within is not allowed to interfere with the contemplation of beauty without.
Between the lower and upper terrace is a remarkable arrangement of steps, a Moorish ideal, for at equal distances from top to bottom, between each flight, are fountains playing in the centre, round which one must walk, while a stream runs down the top of each side wall in a channel made of tiles.[page 365] What a pleasant sight and sound to those to whom stair climbing in a broiling sun is too much exercise! The cypresses in the garden are very fine, but they give none too much shade. The present owner's agent has Bû Abd Allah's sword on view at his house in the town, and this is a gem worth asking to see when a ticket is obtained for the Generalife. It is of a totally different pattern and style of ornament from the modern Moorish weapons, being inlaid in a very clever and tasteful manner.
To the antiquary the most interesting part of Granáda is the Albaycin, the quarter lying highest up the valley of the Darro, originally peopled by refugees from the town of Baeza—away to the north, beyond Jaen—the Baïseeïn. As the last stronghold of Moorish rule in the Peninsula, when one by one the other cities, once its rivals, fell into the hands of the Christians again, Granáda became a centre of refuge from all parts, and to this owed much of its ultimate importance.
Unfortunately no attempt has been made to preserve the many relics of that time which still exist in this quarter, probably the worst in the town. Many owners of property in the neighbourhood can still display the original Arabic title deeds, their estates having been purchased by Spanish grandees from the expelled Moors, or later from the expelled Jews. A morning's tour will reveal much of interest in back alleys and ruined courts. One visitor alone is hardly safe among the wild half-gipsy lot who dwell there now, but a few copper coins are all the keys needed to gain admission to some fine old patios with marble columns, crumbling fandaks, and ruined baths. By the[page 366] roadside may be seen the identical style of water-mill still used in Morocco, and the presence of the Spaniard seems a dream.
V. Hither and Thither
Having now made pilgrimages to the more famous homes of the Moor in Europe, let us in fancy take an aërial flight over sunny Spain, and glance here and there at the scattered traces of Muslim rule in less noted quarters. Everything we cannot hope to spy, but we may still surprise ourselves and others by the number of our finds. Even this task accomplished, a volume on the subject might well be written by a second Borrow or a Ford, whose residence among the modern Moors had sharpened his scent for relics of that ilk.[*] Let not the reader think that with these wayside jottings all has been disclosed, for the Moor yet lives in Spain, and there is far more truth in the saying that "Barbary begins at the Pyrenees" than is generally imagined.
We will start from Tarifa, perhaps the most ancient town of Andalucia. The Moors named this ancient Punic city after T'arîf ibn Málek ("The Wise, son of King"), a Berber chief. They beleaguered it about 1292, and it is still enclosed by Moorish walls. The citadel, a genuine Moorish castle, lies just within these walls, and was not so long ago the abode of galley-slaves. Close to Sevílle, where the river Guadalquivir branches off,[page 367] it forms two islands—Islas Mayor y Menor. The former was the Kaptal of the Moors. At Coria the river winds under the Moorish "Castle of the Cleft" (El Faraj), now called St. Juan de Alfarache, and passes near the Torre del Oro, a monument of the invader already referred to. Old Xeres, of sherry fame, is a straggling, ill-built, ill-drained Moorish city. It was taken from the Moors in 1264. Part of the original walls and gates remain in the old town. The Moorish citadel is well preserved, and offers a good specimen of those turreted and walled palatial fortresses.
But it is not till we reach Sevílle that we come to a museum of Moorish antiquities. Here we see Arabesque ceilings, marqueterie woodwork, stucco panelling, and the elegant horse-shoe arches. There are beautiful specimens in the citadel, in Calle Pajaritos No. 15, in the Casa Prieto and elsewhere. The Moors possessed the city for five hundred years, during which time they entirely rebuilt it, using the Roman buildings as materials. Many Moorish houses still exist, the windows of which are barricaded with iron gratings. On each side of the patios, or courts, are corridors supported by marble pillars, whilst a fountain plays in the centre. These houses are rich in Moorish porcelain tilings, called azulejos—from the Arabic ez-zulaïj—but the best of these are in the patio of the citadel. Carmona is not far off, with its oriental walls and castle, famous as ever for its grateful springs. The tower of San Pedro transports us again to Tangier, as do the massy walls and arched gate.
Some eight leagues on the way to Badajos from Sevílle rises a Moorish tower, giving to the adjoining[page 368] village the name of Castillo de las Guardias. Five leagues beyond are the mines of the "Inky River"—Rio Tinto—a name sufficiently expressive and appropriate, for it issues from the mountain-side impregnated with copper, and is consequently corrosive. The Moors seem to have followed the Romans in their workings on the north side of the hill. Further on are more mines, still proclaiming the use the Moors made of them by their present name Almádin—"the Mine"—a name which has almost become Spanish; it is still so generally used. Five leagues from Rio Tinto, at Aracena, is another Moorish castle, commanding a fine panorama, and the belfry of the church hard by is Arabesque.
Many more of these ruined kasbahs are to be seen upon the heights of Andalucia, and even much further north; but the majority must go unmentioned. One, in an equally fine position, is to be seen eleven leagues along the road from Sevílle to Badajos, above Santa Olalla—a name essentially Moorish, denoting the resting-place of some female Mohammedan saint, whose name has been lost sight of. (Lallah, or "Lady," is the term always prefixed to the names of canonized ladies in Morocco.) Three leagues from Sevílle on the Granáda road, at Gandul, lies another of these castles, picturesquely situated amid palms and orange groves; four leagues beyond, the name Arahal (er-rahálah—"the day's journey") reminds the Arabicist that it is time to encamp; a dozen leagues further on the name of Roda recalls its origin, raôdah, "the cemetery." Riding into Jaen on the top of the diligence from Granáda, I was struck with the familiar appearance of two brown tabia fortresses above the[page 369] town, giving the hillside the appearance of one of the lower slopes of the Atlas. This was a place after the Moors' own heart, for abundant springs gush everywhere from the rocks. In their days it was for a time the capital of an independent kingdom.
At Ronda, a town originally built by the Moors—for Old Ronda is two leagues away to the north,—their once extensive remains have been all but destroyed. Its tortuous streets and small houses, however, testify as to its origin, and its Moorish castle still appears to guard the narrow ascent by which alone it can be reached from the land, for it crowns a river-girt rock. Down below, this river, the Guadalvin, still turns the same rude class of corn-mills that we have seen at Fez and Granáda. Other remnants are another Moorish tower in the Calle del Puente Viejo, and the "House of the Moorish King" in Calle San Pedro, dating from about 1042. Descending to the river's edge by a flight of stairs cut in the solid rock, there is a grotto dug by Christian slaves three centuries later. Some five leagues on the road thence to Granáda are the remains of the ancient Teba, at the siege of which in 1328, when it was taken from the Moors, Lord James Douglas fought in obedience to the dying wish of the Bruce his master, whose heart he wore in a silver case hung from his neck, throwing it among the enemy as he rushed in and fell.
On the way from Ronda to Gibraltar are a number of villages whose Arab names are startling even in this land of Ishmaelitish memories. Among these are Atajate, Gaucin, Benahali, Benarraba,[page 370] Benadalid, Benalaurin. At Gaucin an excellent view of Gibraltar and Jibel Mûsa is obtainable from its Moorish citadel. This brings us to old "Gib," whose relics of Tárîk and his successors are much better known to travellers than most of those minor remains. An inscription over the gate of the castle, now a prison, tells of its erection over eleven centuries ago, for this was naturally one of the early captures of the invaders. Yet the mud-concrete walls stand firm and sound, though scarred by many a shot. Algeciras—El Jazîrah—"the Island" has passed through too many vicissitudes to have much more than the name left.
Malaga, though seldom heard of in connection with the history of Mohammedan rule in the Peninsula, played a considerable part in that drama. It and Cadiz date far back to the time of the Carthaginians, so that, after all, their origin is African. If its name is not of an earlier origin, it may be from Málekah, "the Queen." Every year on August 18, at 3 p.m. the great bell of the cathedral is struck thrice, for that is the anniversary of its recovery from the Aliens in 1487. The flag of Ferdinand then hoisted is (or was recently) still to be seen, together with a Moorish one, probably that of the vanquished city, over the tomb of the Conde de Buena Vista in the convent of La Victoria. Though odd bits of Moorish architecture may still be met with in places, the only remains of note are the castle, built in 1279, with its fine horse-shoe gate—sadly disfigured by modern barbarism—and what was the dockyard of the Moors, now left high and dry by the receding sea.
The name Alhama, met with in several parts of[page 371] Spain, merely denotes "the hot," alluding to springs of that character which are in most instances still active. This is the case at the Alhama between Malaga and Granáda, where the baths are worth a visit. The Moorish bath is called the strong one, being nearer the spring.
At Antequera the castle is Moorish, though built on Roman foundations, and it is only of recent years that the mosque has disappeared under the "protection" of an impecunious governor.
Leaving the much-sung Andalûs, the first name striking us in Murcia is that of Guadíx (pronounced Wadish), a corruption of Wád Aïsh, "River of Life." Its Moorish castle still stands. Some ten leagues further on, at Cullar de Baza is another Moorish ruin, and the next of note, a fine specimen, is fifteen leagues away at Lorca, whose streets are in the genuine intricate style. The city of Murcia, though founded by the Moors, contains little calling them to remembrance. In the post-office and prison, however, and in the public granary, mementoes are to be found.
Orihuela, on the road from Carthagena to Alicante, still looks oriental with its palm-trees, square towers and domes, and Elche is just another such, with flat roofs and the orthodox kasbah, now a prison. The enormous number of palms which surround the town recall Marrákesh, but they are sadly neglected. Monte Alegre is a small place with a ruined Moorish castle, about fifteen leagues from Elche on the road to Madrid. Between Alicante and Xativa is the Moorish castle of Tibi, close to a large reservoir, and there is a square Moorish tower at Concentaina. Xativa has a[page 372] hermitage, San Felin, adorned with horse-shoe arches, having a Moorish cistern hard by.
Valencia the Moors considered a Paradise, and their skill in irrigation has been retained, so that of the Guadalaviar (Wad el Abîad—"River of the Whites") the fullest use is made in agriculture, and the familiar water-wheels and conduits go by the corruptions of their Arabic names, naôrahs and sakkáïahs. The city itself is very Moorish in appearance, with its narrow tortuous streets and gloomy buildings, but I know of no remarkable legacy of the Moors there. There are the remains of a Moorish aqueduct at Chestalgár—a very Arabic sounding name, of which the last two syllables are corrupted from El Ghárb ("the West") as in the case of Trafalgár (Terf el Ghárb—"West Point"). All this district was inhabited by the Moriscos or Christianized Moors as late as the beginning of the seventeenth century, and there must their descendants live still, although no longer distinguished from true sons of the soil.
Whatever may remain of the ancient Saguntum, what is visible is mostly Moorish, as, for instance, cisterns on the site of a Roman temple. Not far from Valencia is Burjasot, where are yet to be seen specimens of matmôrahs or underground granaries. Morella is a scrambling town with Moorish walls and towers, coroneted by a castle.
Entering Catalonia, Tortosa, at the mouth of the Ebro, is reached, once a stronghold of the Moors, and a nest of pirates till recovered by Templars, Pisans and Genoese together. It was only withheld from the Moors next year by the valour of the women besieged. The tower of the[page 373] cathedral still bears the title of Almudena, a reminder of the muédhdhin who once summoned Muslims to prayer from its summit. Here, too, are sundry remnants of Moorish masonry, and some ancient matmôrahs.
Tarragona and Barcelona, if containing no Moorish ruins of note, have all, in common with other neighbouring places, retained the Arabic name Rambla (rimlah, "sand") for the quondam sandy river beds which of late years have been transformed into fashionable promenades. In the cathedral of Tarragona an elegant Moorish arch is noticeable, with a Kufic inscription giving the date as 960 a.d. For four centuries after this city was destroyed by Tarîf it remained unoccupied, so that much cannot be expected to call to mind his dynasty. Of a bridge at Martorell over the Llobregat, Ford says it is "attributed to Hannibal by the learned, and to the devil, as usual, by the vulgar. The pointed centre arch, which is very steep and narrow to pass, is 133 feet wide in the span, and is unquestionably a work of the Moors." Not far away is a place whose name, Mequineza, is strongly suggestive of Moorish origin, but I know nothing further about it.
Now let us retrace our flight, and wing our way once more to the north of Sevílle, to the inland province of Estremadura. Here we start from Mérida, where the Roman-Moorish "alcazar" towers proudly yet. The Moors repaired the old Roman bridge over the Guadiana, and the gateway near the river has a marble tablet with an Arabic inscription. The Muslims observed towards the people of this place good faith such as was never[page 374] shown to them in return, inasmuch as they allowed them to retain their temples, creed, and bishops. They built the citadel in 835, and the city dates its decline from the time that Alonzo el Sabio took it from them in 1229. Zámora is another ancient place. It was taken from the Moors in 939, when 40,000 of them are said to have been killed. The Moorish designs in the remarkable circular arches of La Magdalena are worthy of note.
In Toledo the church of Santo Tomé has a brick tower of Moorish character; near it is the Moorish bridge of San Martin, and in the neighbourhood, by a stream leading to the Tagus, Moorish mills and the ruins of a villa with Moorish arches, now a farm hovel, may still be seen. The ceiling of the chapel of the church of San Juan de la Penetencia is in the Moorish style, much dilapidated (1511 a.d.). The Toledan Moors were first-rate hydraulists. One of their kings had a lake in his palace, and in the middle a kiosk, whence water descended on each side, thus enclosing him in the coolest of summer-houses. It was in Toledo that Ez-Zarkal made water-clocks for astronomical calculations, but now this city obtains its water only by the primitive machinery of donkeys, which are driven up and down by water-carriers as in Barbary itself. The citadel was once the kasbah of the Moors.
The Cathedral of Toledo is one of the most remarkable in Spain. The arches of the transept are semi-Moorish, Xamete, who wrought it in Arcos stone in 1546-50, having been a Moor. The very ancient manufactory of arms for which Toledo has a world-wide fame dates from the time[page 375] of the Goths; into this the Moors introduced their Damascene system of ornamenting and tempering, and as early as 852 this identical "fabrica" was at work under Abd er-Rahman ibn El Hákim. The Moors treasured and named their swords like children. These were the weapons which Othello, the Moor, "kept in his chamber."
At Alcazar de San Juan, in La Mancha, I found a few remnants of the Moorish town, as in the church tower, but the name is now almost the only Moorish thing about it. Hence we pass to Alarcon, a truly Moorish city, built like a miniature Toledo, on a craggy peninsula hemmed in by the river Jucar. The land approach is still guarded by Moorish towers and citadel.
In Zocodovar—which takes its name from the word sôk, "market-place"—we find a very Moorish "plaza," with its irregular windows and balconies, and in San Eugenio are some remains of an old mosque with Kufic inscriptions, as well as an arch and tomb of elaborate design. In the Calle de las Tornarías there used to be a dilapidated Moorish house with one still handsome room, but it is doubtful whether this now survives the wreck of time. It was called El Taller del Moro, because Ambron, the Moorish governor of Huesca, is said to have invited four hundred of the refractory chiefs of Toledo to dine here, and to have cut off the head of each as he arrived. There is a curious mosque in the Calle del Cristo de la Luz, the roof is supported by four low square pillars, each having a different capital, from which spring double arches like those at Córdova. The ceiling is divided into nine compartments with domes.
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Madrid has passed through such various fortunes, and has been so much re-built, that it now contains few traces of the Moors. The only relic which I saw in 1890 was a large piece of tabia, forming a substantial wall near to the new cathedral, which might have belonged to the city wall or only to a fortress. The Museum of the Capital contains a good collection of Moorish coins. In the Armoury are Moorish guns, swords, saddles, and leather shields, the last named made of two hides cemented with a mortar composed of herbs and camel-hair.
In Old Castile the footprints grow rare and faint, although the name of Valladolid—Blád Walîd, "Town of Walîd," a Moorish ameer—sufficiently proclaims its origin, but I am not aware of any Moorish remains there. In Burgos one old gate near the triumphal arch, erected by Philip II., still retains its Moorish opening, and on the opposite hill stands the castle in which was celebrated the bridal of our Edward I. with Eleanor of Castile. It was then a true Moorish kasar, but part has since been destroyed by fire. On the road from Burgos to Vittoria we pass between the mountains of Oca and the Pyrenean spurs, in which narrow defile the old Spaniards defied the advancing Moors. Moorish caverns or cisterns are still to be seen.
Turning southward again, we come to Medinaceli, or "the city of Selim," once the strong frontier hold of a Moor of that name, the scene of many conflicts among the Moors themselves, and against the Christians. Here, on August 7, 1002, died the celebrated El Mansûr—"The Victorious"—the "Cid" (Seyyid) of the Moors, and the most terrible enemy of the Christians.[page 377] He was born in 938 near Algeciras, and by a series of intrigues, treacheries and murders, rose in importance till he became in reality master of the puppet ameer. He proclaimed a holy crusade against the Christians each year, and was buried in the dust of fifty campaigns, for after every battle he used to shake off the soil from his garments into a chest which he carried about with him for that purpose.
In Aragon the situation of Daroca, in the fertile basin of the Jiloca, is very picturesque. The little town lies in a hill-girt valley around which rise eminences defended by Moorish walls and towers, which, following the irregular declivities, command charming views from above. The palace of the Mendozas at Guadalajara, in the same district, boasts of an elegant row of Moorish windows, though these appear to have been constructed after Guadalajara was reconquered from the Moors by the Spaniards. Near this place is a Moorish brick building, turned into a battery by the invaders, and afterwards used as a prison. Before leaving this town it will be worth while to visit San Miguel, once a mosque, with its colonnaded entrance, horse-shoe arches, machiolations, and herring-bone patterns under the roof.
Calatayud, the second town of Aragon, is of Moorish origin. Its Moorish name means the "Castle of Ayûb"—or Job—the nephew of Mûsa, who used the ancient Bilbilis as a quarry whence to obtain stones for its construction. The Dominican convent of Calatayud has a glorious patio with three galleries rising one above another, and a portion of the exterior is enriched with pseudo-Moorish work like the prisons at Guadalajara.
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Saragossa gave me more the impression of Moorish origin than any town I saw in Spain, except Sevílle and Córdova. The streets of the original settlement are just those of Mequinez on a small scale. The only object of genuinely Moorish origin that I could find, however, was the Aljaferia, once a palace-citadel, now a barrack, so named after Jáfer, a Muslim king of this province. Since his times Ferdinand and Isabella used it, and then handed it over to the Inquisition. Some of the rooms still retain Moorish decorations, but most of the latter are of the period of their conquerors. On one ceiling is pointed out the first gold brought from the New World. The only genuine Moorish remnant is the private mosque, with beautiful inscriptions. The building has been incorporated in a huge fort-like modern brick structure, which would lead no one to seek inside for Arab traces.
Passing from Saragossa northwards, we arrive at Jaca, the railway terminus, which to this day quarters on her shield the heads of four sheïkhs who were left behind when their fellow-countrymen fled from the city in 795, after a desperate battle in which the Spanish women fought like men. The site of the battle, called Las Tiendas, is still visited on the first Friday in May, when the daughters of these Amazons go gloriously "a-shopping." The municipal charter of Jaca dates from the Moorish expulsion, and is reckoned among the earliest in Spain.
Gerona, almost within sight of France, played an important part, too, in those days, siding alternately with that country and with Spain when in the possession of the Moors. The Ameer Sulaïmán,[page 379] in 759 a.d., entered into an alliance with Pepin, and in 785 Charlemagne took the town, which the Moors re-captured ten years later. It became their headquarters for raids upon Narbonne and Nîsmes. Castellon de Ampurias, once on the coast, which has receded, was strong enough to resist the Moors for a time, but after they had dismantled it, the Normans appeared and finally destroyed it. Now it is but a hamlet.
We are now in the extreme north-west of the Peninsula, where the relics we seek grow scanty, and, in consequence, of more importance. Instead of buildings in stone or concrete, we find here a monument of independence, perhaps more interesting in its way than any other. When the Pyrenees and their hardy mountaineers checked the onward rush of Islám, several independent states arose, recognized by both France and Spain on account of their bravery in opposing a common foe. The only one of these retaining a semi-independence is the republic of Andorra, a name corrupted from the Arabic el (al) darra, "a plenteous rainfall," showing how the Moors appreciated this feature of so well wooded and hilly a district after the arid plains of the south. The old Moorish castle of the chief town bears the name of Carol, derived from that of Charlemagne, who granted it the privileges it still enjoys, so that it is a memento of the meeting of Arab and Teuton. At Planes is a church said to be of Moorish origin, and earlier than Charlemagne; it certainly dates from no later than the tenth century. These "foot-prints" show that the Moor got a fairly good footing here, before he was driven back, and his progress stayed.
[*] To the latter I am indebted for particulars regarding the many places mentioned in this final survey which it was impossible for me to visit.
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