The Picturesque Antiquities of Spain / Described in a series of letters, with illustrations representing Moorish palaces, cathedrals, and other monuments of art, contained in the cities of Burgos, Valladolid, Toledo, and Seville.

by Nathaniel Armstrong Wells

I surprised the other day a village matron, whose toilette, it being a holiday afternoon, was in progress in no more secluded a tocador than the middle of the road. The rustic lady's-maid (whether the practice be more or less fashionable I know not) had placed on a stool, within reach of her right hand as she stood behind her seated mistress, a jug of fresh water. This did she lift, just as I approached, up to her mouth, into which she received as large a portion of its contents as could be there accommodated; while with her left hand she grasped the extremity of a mass of silken hair, black as the raven's wing, and an ell in length. Both hands now, stroking down the mass, spread it out so as to present a horizontal surface of as large an extent as possible, when, suddenly, from the inflated cheeks of the abigail, re-issued with a loud sound the now tepid liquid, and bathed the entire surface, which it seemed to render, if possible, still more glossy than before. The rest of the duty of the hands appeared to consist in repeatedly separating and replacing the handfuls, until the same proceeding was reacted.

The entrance to the Giralda is outside the cathedral. Before we make the ascent, we will walk to the extremity of the Moorish enclosure of the orange-court, along the raised pavement which surrounds the whole. At the angle there is an antique shaft of granite, higher than the rest of those placed at equal distances along the edge of the pavement. From that point the proportions of the tower are seen to advantage, while you are at the same time sufficiently near to observe the details of the carving, and of the windows, with their delicately formed columns of rare marbles; and to lose in a great measure the effect of the subsequent additions, which surmount and disfigure the work of Geber.

The Arabian part of the building is a square of about forty-five feet, and measures in elevation four times its width. The ornaments are not exactly alike on all the four sides. On the north side (our present view) the tracery commences at a height of eighty feet, up to which point the wall of brick is perfectly plain and smooth, with only the interruption of two windows, placed one above the other in the centre. The ornament, from its commencement to the summit, is divided into two lofty stories, surmounted by a third, of half the height of one of the others. The two first are divided vertically into three parts by narrow stripes of the plain wall. The centre portions contain two windows in each story, one over the other, making, with the two in the lower portion, six altogether, which are at equal distances from each other. The form of these windows is varied, and in all uncommonly elegant; some are double, with a marble column supporting their two arches, and all are ornamented round the arches with beautiful tracery, and furnished with marble balconies. At one of the balconies, the Muezzin, in Mahometan times was accustomed to present himself at each of the hours appointed for prayer, and to pronounce the sentences ordained by that religion for calling the people. The half-story at the summit is ornamented with a row of arches, supported by pilasters.

On the top of the tower were seen originally, four gilded balls of different sizes, one over the other, diminishing upwards; the iron bar on which they were fixed, was struck by lightning, and gave way, leaving the balls to roll over; since which period they were never restored to their place.

The additional buildings were not erected until the seventeenth century. They are not in themselves inelegant, with the exception of the portion immediately rising from the old tower, and containing the bells. This portion is of the same width as the tower, and appears to weigh it down with its heavy effect; on the summit of the whole, at about three hundred feet from the ground, is a colossal statue of bronze, representing Faith, holding in one hand a shield, and in the other an olive-branch. By means of the shield, the statue obeys the movements of the wind, and thus gives the name of Giralda (weather-cock) to the tower.

An interior tower, rather more than twenty feet square, runs up the whole height of the Moorish portion of the building; between which and the external walls an easy ascent is contrived on an inclined plane. The necessity of introducing light throughout the ascent accounts for the different elevation of the windows and ornaments of the different sides; but the architect has so managed this difficulty, that no bad effect is produced in the external view. At the lower part of the tower the ascent is sufficiently wide to admit of the passage of two men on horseback abreast; but it becomes narrower as it approaches the summit. Queen Christina is said to have been drawn up in a small carriage. The walls, both of the inner and outer tower, increase in thickness as they rise, and as the ascending plane decreases in width: a plan which appears opposed to the principle usually adopted by modern architects.

It is known that Geber was the architect of the Giralda, but no certainty exists respecting its date. The Spanish antiquarian Don Rodrigo Caro supposes it to have been erected during the reign of Benabet Almucamus, King of Seville, shortly before the appearance in Spain of the Almoravides; but this is no more than a conjecture, founded on the supposed wealth of that King, who possessed larger states than his successors, and who paid no tribute to the sovereigns of Castile.

Immediately over the highest story of the Moorish tower is the belfry. The bells are suspended on the centre of revolving beams, which traverse the open arches of the four faces of the tower. They are consequently in full view, as they throw their somersets and send forth their lively clatter on a dia de fiesta.

Their effect is very original, and as unlike as possible to the monotonous and melancholy cadence of an English peal. None of them are deep-toned nor solemn, but all high and sharp: so that being let loose in merry disorder, and without tune, they somehow appear to harmonize with the brilliant skies, just as the descending ding-dong in England suits the gloom of the northern heavens. Leave Seville, and never shall their tones steal on your memory without your being transported into a blaze of bright sunshine.

In Spain the houses of the grandees are not called palaces, as those of the same rank in Italy are usually termed. There is not even an intermediate term, such as mansion,—still less the hall—abbey, or castle. They have the last, but only applied in cases in which it is correctly and legitimately applicable. The Arab expression alcazar, composed of the article al and cazar, is so like the Spanish la casa (the house), that, not having at hand a professor of Arabic to consult, I will risk the assertion that it bore the same meaning; notwithstanding the opinion of several French writers who translate it château. Chenier, author of the history of Morocco, derives it from the word Caissar, which he considers synonymous with Cæsar: but this derivation appears to admit of much doubt, as the word would signify the Emperor, instead of his residence. Supposing it to signify the house, it must no doubt have meant the principal, or royal house. At present the two words are admitted into the Spanish language as one, which is applied indiscriminately to royal town-residences, whether castles or not, as well as the term palacio. But a private residence of whatever extent is modestly termed a house.