CHAPTER XXV.
CORDOVA, SEVILLE, AND CADIZ.
Cordova is a gloomy and desolate city with about forty thousand inhabitants. It was once the capital of the kingdom of Cordova, and had two hundred thousand people within its walls; and some say a million, though the former number is doubtless nearer the truth. The grass grows in its streets now, and it looks like a deserted city, as it is. There is only one thing to see in Cordova, and that is the mosque. As soon as the party had been to breakfast, they hastened to visit it.
“We will first take a view of the outside,” said the doctor to his pupils when they had reached the mosque. “This square in front of it is the Court of Oranges; you observe a few palms and cypresses, as well as orange-trees. The fountain in the centre was built by the Moors nearly a thousand years ago.”
“But I don’t see any thing so very grand about the mosque, if that great barn-like building is the one,” said Murray. “It looks more like a barrack than a mosque. We have been in the mosque business some, and they can’t palm that thing off upon us as a real mosque. We have seen the genuine thing in Constantinople.”
“I grant that the outside is not very attractive,” added the doctor. “But in the days of the Moors, when the mosque was in its glory, the roof was covered with domes and cupolas. In spite of what you say, Murray, this was the finest, as it is one of the largest mosques in the world. It covers an area of six hundred and forty-two by four hundred and sixty-two feet. It was completed in the year 796; and the work was done in ten years. It was built to outdo all the other mosques of the world except that at Jerusalem. Now we will go in.”
The party entered the mosque, and were amazed, as everybody is who has not been prepared for the sight, by the wilderness of columns. There are about a thousand of them; and they formerly numbered twelve hundred. Each of them is composed of a single stone, and no two of them seem to be of the same order of architecture. They come from different parts of the globe; and therefore the marbles are of various kinds and colors, from pure white to blood red. These pillars form twenty-nine naves, or avenues, one way, and nineteen the other. The roof is only forty feet high, and the columns are only a fraction of this height. They have no pedestal, and support a sort of double arch, the upper one plain, and the lower a horseshoe; indeed, this last looks like a huge horseshoe stretching across below the loftier arch.
For an hour the party wandered about in the forest of pillars, pausing at the Mih-ràb, or sanctuary of the mosque, where was kept the copy of the Koran made by Othman, the founder of the dynasty of that name. It is still beautiful, but little of its former magnificence remains; for the pulpit it contained is said to have cost the equivalent of five millions of dollars.
“St. Ferdinand conquered Cordova in 1236; and then the mosque was turned into a Christian church without any great change,” said Dr. Winstock, as they approached the choir in the centre of the mosque. “The victors had the good sense and the good taste to leave the building pretty much as they found it. But three hundred years later the chapter of the church built this choir, which almost ruins the interior effect as we gaze upon it. The fine perspective is lost. Sixty columns were removed to make room for the choir. When Charles V. visited Cordova, and saw the mischief the chapter had wrought, he was very angry, and severely reproached the authors of it.”
The tourists looked into the high chapel, and glanced at the forty-four others which surround the mosque. Then they walked to the bridge over the Guadalquiver. Arabian writers say it was built by Octavius Cæsar, but it was entirely reconstructed by the Moors. An old Moorish mill was pointed out; and the party returned to the mosque to spend the rest of their time in studying its marvellous workmanship. Early in the afternoon the excursionists left for Seville, and arrived in three hours. The journey was through a pleasant country, affording them an occasional view of the Guadalquiver.
“He simply held out his hand.” Page [356].
“To my mind,” said Dr. Winstock, as the party passed out of the Hotel de Londres to the Plaza Nueva, which is a small park in front of the City Hall,—“to my mind Seville is the pleasantest city in Spain, I have always been in love with it since I came here the first time; and I have spent four months here altogether. The air is perfectly delicious; and, though it often rains, I do not remember a single rainy day. The streets are clean, the houses are neat and pretty, the people are polite, the ladies are beautiful,—which is a consideration to a bachelor like myself,—and, if I had to spend a year in any city of Europe, Seville would be the place.”
“What is there to see here?” asked Murray. “I should like a list of the sights to put in a letter I shall write to-day.”
“The principal thing is the cathedral; then the Giralda, the Alcazar, the tobacco-factory, the Palace of San Telmo, the Casa de Pilatos.”
“That will do, doctor. I can’t put those things in my letter,” interposed Murray.
“You may say ‘Pilate’s house’ for the last; and add the Calle de las Sierpes, which is the most frequented street of the city.”
“But I can’t spell the words.”
“It is not in good taste to translate the name of a street; but it means ‘the street of the serpents.’ But I think you had better wait till you have seen the sights, before you attempt to describe them in your letter.”
“I will look them up in the guide-book, when I write.”
“This is the Calle de las Sierpes,” continued the doctor, as they entered a narrow street leading from the Plaza de la Constitucion—nearly every Spanish city has one with this name—in the rear of the City Hall. “This is the business street of the town, and it is generally crowded with people. Here are the retail stores, the cafés, the post-office, and the principal theatre.”
The students were interested in this street, it was so full of life. The ends of it were barred so that no carriages could enter it; and the whole pavement was a sidewalk, as O’Hara would have expressed it. Passing the theatre, they followed a continuation of the same street.
“Do you notice the name of this street?” said the doctor, as he pointed to the sign on a corner. “It is the Calle del Amor de Dios. It is so near like the Latin that you can tell what it means.”
“But it seems hardly possible that a street should have such a name,—the ‘Street of the Love of God,’” added Sheridan.
“That is just what it is; and it was given by reverent men. There is also in this city the Calle de Gesu, or Jesus Street; and the names of the Virgin and the saints are applied in the same way.”
Passing through this street, the party came to the Alameda de Hercules.
“The city has about the same history as most others in the South of Spain,—Romans, Goths, Vandals, Moors, Christians,” said the doctor. “But some of the romancists ascribe its origin to Hercules; and this alameda is named after him. Now we will take a closer view of one of the houses. You observe that they differ from those of our cities. They are built on the Moorish plan. What we call the front door is left open all day. It leads into a vestibule; and on the right and left are the entrances to the apartments. Let us go in.”
“Is this a private house?” asked Sheridan, who seemed to have some doubts about proceeding any farther; but then the doctor astonished him by ringing the bell, which was promptly answered by a voice inquiring who was there.
“Gentes de paz” (peaceful people), replied the surgeon; and this is the usual way to answer the question in Spain.
It presently appeared that Dr. Winstock was acquainted with the gentleman who lived in the house; and he received a cordial welcome from him. The young gentlemen were introduced to him, though he did not speak English; and they were shown the house.
In the vestibule, directly opposite the front door, was a pair of iron gates of open ornamental work, set in an archway. A person standing in the street can look through this gateway into the patio, or court of the mansion. It was paved with marble, with a fountain in the middle. It was surrounded with plants and flowers; and here the family sit with their guests in summer, to enjoy the coolness of the place. Thanking the host, and promising to call in the evening, the surgeon left with his pupils,—his “pupilos,” as he described them to the gentleman.
After lunch the sight-seers went to the Giralda, which is now the campanile or bell-tower of the cathedral. It was built by the Moors in 1296 as a muezzin tower, or place where the priest calls the faithful to prayers, and was part of the mosque that stood on this spot. It is square, and built of red brick, and is crowned with a lofty spire. The whole height is three hundred and fifty feet. To the top of this tower the party ascended, and obtained a fine view of the city and its surroundings,—so fine that they remained on their lofty perch for three hours. They could look down into the bull-ring, and trace the Guadalquiver for many miles through the flat country. The doctor pointed out all the prominent objects of interest; and when they came down they had a very good idea of Seville and its vicinity.
The next day, as Murray expressed it, they “commenced work on the cathedral.” It is the handsomest church in Spain, and some say in the world. It is the enlargement of an old church made in the fifteenth century. On the outside it looks like a miscellaneous pile of buildings, with here and there a semicircular chapel projecting into the area, and richly ornamented with various devices. It is in the oblong form, three hundred and seventy by two hundred and seventy feet, not including the projecting chapels.
“Now we will enter by the west side,” said the doctor, when they had surveyed the exterior of the vast pile. “The Giralda is on the other side. By the way, did I tell you what this word meant?”
“You did not; but I supposed it was some saint,” replied Sheridan.
“Not at all. It comes from the Spanish verb girar, which means to turn or whirl; and from this comes Giralda, a weathercock. The name is accidental, coming probably from the vane on the top of it at some former period,” continued the doctor as they entered the cathedral. “The central nave is about one hundred and twenty-five feet high; and here you get an idea of the grandeur of the edifice. Here is the burial-place of the son of Columbus. This slab in the pavement contains his epitaph:—
FERNANDO COLON.
——◆——
Á Castilla, y á Leon
Nuevo mundo dío Colon.”
“Hablo Español!” exclaimed Murray. “And I know what that means,—‘To Castile and Leon Columbus gave a new world.’”
“It is in all the school-books, and you ought to know it,” added Sheridan. “Colon means Columbus; but what was his full name in Spanish?”
“Cristobal Colon. This son was quite an eminent man, and gave his library to the chapter of this church. Seville was the birthplace and the residence of Murillo; and you will find many of his pictures in the churches and other buildings.”
The party went into the royal chapel. The under part of the altar is formed by the silver and glass casket which contains the remains of St. Ferdinand, nearly perfect. It is exhibited three days in the year; and then the body lies dressed in royal robes, with the crown on the head. The doctor pointed out the windows of stained glass, of which there are ninety-three. Nearly the whole day was spent in the church by those of the students who had the taste to appreciate its beautiful works of art. The next morning was devoted to the Alcazar. It was the palace of the Moorish sovereigns when Seville became the capital of an independent kingdom. After the city was captured, St. Ferdinand took up his quarters within it. Don Pedro the Cruel repaired and rebuilt portions of it, and made it his residence; and it was occupied by the subsequent sovereigns as long as Seville was the capital of Spain. Though the structure as it now stands was mainly erected by Christian kings, its Arabian style is explained by the fact that Moorish architects were employed in the various additions and repairs.
It is very like the Alhambra, but inferior to it as a whole. It contains apartments similar to those the students had seen at Granada, and therefore was not as interesting as it would otherwise have been. The gardens of the palace were more to their taste. They are filled with orange-trees and a variety of tropical plants. The avenues are lined with box, and the garden contains several small ponds. The walks near the palace are underlaid with pipes perforated with little holes, so that, when the water is let on, a continuous line of fountains cools the air; and it is customary to duck the visitors mildly as a sort of surprise.
The tobacco-factory is the next sight, and is located opposite the gardens of the Alcazar. It is an immense building used for the manufacture of cigars, cigarillos, and smoking-tobacco. The article is a monopoly in the hands of the Government; and many of the larger cities have similar establishments, but none so large as the one at Seville. At the time of which we write, six thousand women were employed in making cigars, and putting up papers of tobacco. Visitors go through the works more to observe the operatives than to see the process of making cigars; and the students were no exception to the rule. Most of the females were old and ugly, though many were young. Among them were not a few gypsies, who could be distinguished by their olive complexion.
These women all have to be searched before they leave the building, to prevent them from stealing the tobacco. Women are employed for this duty, who become so expert in doing it that the operation is performed in a very short time.
On the river, near the factory, is the palace of San Telmo, the residence of the Duke de Montpensier, son of Louis Philippe, who married the sister of the late queen of Spain. It is a very unique structure, with an elaborate portico in the centre of the front, rising one story above the top of the palace, and surmounted with a clock. It has a score of carved columns, and as many statues. The rest of the building is quite plain, which greatly increases the effect of the complicated portico. The picture-gallery and the museums of art in the palace are opened to the tourist, and they richly repay the visit. Among the curiosities is the guitar used by Isabella I., the sword of Pedro the Cruel, and that of Fernando Gonzales. The building was erected for a naval school, and was used as such for a hundred and fifty years. It was presented by the queen to her sister in 1849.
Leaving the palace, the party walked along the quays by the river, till they came to the Toro del Oro, or tower of gold. It was originally part of a Moorish fortress; but now stands alone on the quay, and is occupied as a steamboat-office. The Moors used it as a treasure-house, and so did Pedro the Cruel. In the time of Columbus it was a place of deposit for the gold brought over by the fleets from the New World, and landed here. It is said that more than eight million ducats were often stored here.
Near this tower, is the hospital of La Caridad, or charity. It was founded by a young nobleman who had reformed his dissipated life, and passed the remainder of it in deeds of piety in this institution. It is a house of refuge for the poor and the aged. It contains two beautiful patios, with the usual plants, flowers, and fountains. The institution is something on the plan of the Brotherhood of Pity in Florence; and the young gentlemen of the city render service in it in turn. The founder was an intimate friend of Murillo, which accounts for the number of the great artist’s pictures to be found in the establishment. Its little church contains several of them. A singular painting by another artist attracted the attention of some of the students as a sensation in art. It represents a dead prelate in full robes, lying in the tomb. The body has begun to decay; and the worms are feasting upon it, crawling in and out at the eyes, nose, and mouth. It is a most disgusting picture, though it may have its moral.
A day was given to the museum which contains many of Murillo’s pictures, and next to that at Madrid is the finest in Spain. The Casa de Pilatos was visited on the last day the excursionists were in Seville at this time, though it happened that they came to the city a second time. It belongs to the Duke of Medina Celi, though he seldom occupies it. It is not the house of Pilate, but only an imitation of it. It was built in the sixteenth century, by the ancestors of the duke, some of whom had visited the Holy Land. The Patio is large and is paved with white marble, with a checkered border and other ornaments. In the centre is a fountain, and in each corner is a colossal statue of a goddess. Around it are two stories of galleries, with fine arches and columns. The palace contains a beautiful chapel, in which is a pillar made in imitation of that to which Christ was bound when he was scourged. On the marble staircase the guides point out a cock, which is said to be in the place of the one that crowed when Peter denied his Master; but of course this is sheer tomfoolery, and it was lawful game for Murray, who was the joker of the officers’ party.
On another day the doctor and his pupils walked over the bridge to the suburb of Triana, where the gypsies lived. They were hardly more civilized than those seen at Granada. Then, as the order was not given for the departure, they began to see some of the sights a second time; and many of them will bear repeated visits. During a second examination of the Alcazar, Dr. Winstock told them many stories of Pedro the Cruel, of Don Fadrique, of Blanche of Bourbon, and of Maria de Padilla, which we have not the space to repeat, but which are more interesting than most of the novels of the day. After the ship’s company had been in Seville five days, the order was given to leave at quarter before six; and the party arrived at Cadiz at ten.
This city is located nearly on the point of a tongue of land which encloses a considerable bay; and, when the train had twenty miles farther to go, the students could see the multitude of lights that glittered like stars along the line of the town. Cadiz is a commercial place, was colonized by the Phœnicians, and they supposed it to be about at the end of the earth. They believed that the high bluff at Gibraltar, which was called Calpe, and Abyla at Ceuta in Africa, were part of the same hill, rent asunder by Hercules; and they erected a column on each height, which are known as the Pillars of Hercules. Cadiz was held by the Romans and the Moors in turn, and captured by the Spaniards in 1262. After the discovery of America, it shared with Seville the prosperity which followed that event; and the gold and merchandise were brought to these ports. Its vast wealth caused it to be often attacked by the pirates of Algiers and Morocco; the English have twice captured it, and twice failed to do so; and it was the civil and military headquarters of the Spaniards during the peninsular war. When the American colonies of Spain became independent, it lost much of its valuable commerce, and has not been what it was in the last century since the French Revolution.
The boats of the American Prince, in charge of the forward officers and a squad of firemen and stewards, were on the beach near the railroad station; and the ship’s company slept on board that night. The next day was devoted to Cadiz. The cathedral is a modern edifice and a beautiful church, though the tourist who had been to Toledo and Seville does not care to give much of his time to it. In the Capuchin Monastery, to which the doctor took his pupils, is the last picture painted by Murillo. It is the Marriage of St. Catharine, and is painted on the wall over the high altar of the chapel. Before it was quite finished, Murillo fell from the scaffold, was fatally injured, and died soon after. The picture was finished by one of his pupils, at his request.
There are no other sights to be seen in Cadiz; but the students were very much pleased with the place. Its public buildings are large and massive; its white dwellings are pretty; and its squares and walks on the seashore are very pleasant. By the kindness of the banker, the club-house was opened to the party.
“I am rather sorry we do not go to Xeres,” said the doctor, when they were seated in the reading-room. “I supposed we should stop there on our way from Seville. I wished to take you into the great wine-vaults. I think you know what the place is noted for.”
“Vino del Xeres,” replied Murray,—“Sherry wine.”
“It is made exclusively in this place; and its peculiarity comes from the kind of grapes and method of manufacture. The business here is in the hands of English, French, and German people, who far surpass the Spaniards in the making of wine. The immense cellars and store-houses where the wine is kept are well worth seeing, though they are not encouraging to men with temperance principles. The place has forty thousand inhabitants, and is the Xeres de la Frontera, where Don Roderick was overwhelmed by the Moors, and the Gothic rule in Spain was ended.”
“Seville is a larger place than Cadiz, isn’t it?” asked Sheridan.
“More than twice as large. Seville is the third city of Spain, having one hundred and fifty-two thousand inhabitants; while Cadiz is the ninth, with only seventy-two thousand.”
The party returned to the steamer; and the next morning she sailed for Malaga, where the Josephines and Tritonias had arrived before them. The fleet immediately departed for Gibraltar, and in five hours was at anchor off the Rock.