The sick and the unfortunate were housed and cared for in public institutions erected for that purpose. Orphans were maintained and educated from the private purse of the Khalif, five hundred being enrolled in a single school at Cordova, a noble example of patriarchal solicitude and royal generosity.
Equally unlike their predecessors the Barbarians and their own conquerors the Castilians, the Spanish Arabs did not take pleasure in the destruction of the proud memorials of Roman greatness. It is true that where a structure was hopelessly ruined, they appropriated the materials for their own edifices. Wanton injury of the relics of classic antiquity was, however, always discountenanced by the liberal spirit of the Spanish Moslem. Even from the earliest epoch of their occupation, the grandeur of these works, which have immortalized the power and majesty of the Cæsars, filled their untutored but not unappreciative minds with awe and wonder. Bridges and fortifications which had survived since the reign of the first emperors were rebuilt. The highways, which formed such an important feature of the military policy of the empire, were thoroughly repaired and extended. Such objects of Greek or Roman art as came into possession of the Saracens—with the exception of statuary, which, as representing the human form, partook of the abomination of idolatrous worship—were carefully preserved. In every act and sentiment was disclosed a feeling of reverence and admiration for the imposing and graceful monuments bequeathed to posterity by the former masters of the world.
The centre of all this wonderful civilization was the famous city of Cordova. The capital of the empire, of itself, it possessed all the requisites of a mighty state, a vast population, commercial wealth, religious prestige, political power. Eight cities of the first rank and three thousand smaller towns were subject to its jurisdiction. Each year the sum of three million pieces of gold—sixty million dollars—was paid into its treasury. No community of ancient or mediæval times could compare with it in proficiency in the arts, in scientific attainments, in intellectual culture. Its inhabitants could not have numbered less than a million. Their dwellings, generally built of stone, exhibited the unpretending exterior peculiar to Oriental architecture, but within they were adorned with mosaics and arabesques, with blooming parterres and marble fountains. The streets, adapted to the scorching climate, were narrow, but solidly paved, perfectly drained, and, subject to constant supervision, were kept in a state of cleanliness unknown to the best-regulated municipalities of modern Europe. In summer, a grateful coolness was obtained by awnings, which, stretched from one building to another, excluded the rays of the sun, facilitating the purposes of traffic and the intercourse of the people. The houses—exclusive of the palaces of the nobles and public officials, which were very numerous—amounted to the extraordinary figure of one hundred and thirteen thousand. There were eighty thousand four hundred shops, seven hundred mosques, nine hundred baths, and four thousand three hundred markets, where were constantly to be seen the costumes and the treasures of every country known to commerce in that age.
For ten miles in a direct line on the darkest night the pedestrian could walk securely through the city and its environs by the light of innumerable lamps. The total area of the capital included a space of twenty-four miles in length by six in width along the classic Bætis, which—the only stream of Andalusia that is said to bear a strictly Arab name—had been designated by the Saracens The Great River. The circumference of the city proper, enclosed by fortified walls, was fourteen miles. In the size and number of its bazaars and in the variety of the merchandise with which its warehouses were filled, Cordova enjoyed an undisputed pre-eminence over the most luxurious cities of Asia, and west of the Bosphorus had no rival, with the single exception of Constantinople.
The rarest and most expensive luxuries of the table and the harem were to be procured in the shops of the gigantic capital. Beautiful slaves from Greece, Italy, and Abyssinia; white eunuchs, whose emasculation had rather enhanced than diminished their elegance of form and regularity of feature; blacks, whose repulsive hideousness and colossal stature were qualifications for the retinue of the Khalif; books and manuscripts in every tongue; the choicest spices and perfumes of the Orient; priceless jewels, whose sheen enhances to such a degree the charms of female loveliness; robes of every hue and texture, woven with texts and mottoes in threads of silver and gold,—all of these, and many other wares, objects of the cupidity and the passions of man—were daily exhibited to the covetous and admiring glance of the passer-by. Great caravansaries afforded shelter to multitudes of merchants, travellers, and pilgrims, who, allured by avarice, curiosity, or devotion, daily resorted to the renowned Metropolis of the West. Inns, where food, lodging, and alms were gratuitously distributed to the worthy but impecunious scholar, whose means were inadequate to the gratification of his literary aspirations, established by the government and maintained from the funds of the public treasury, formed a peculiar and striking feature of the varied life of the city. From the rivulets of the distant Sierra, a lofty aqueduct, two leagues and a half in length—and whose vermilion hue, derived from the cinnabar in its cement, presenting a vivid contrast to the green of the surrounding landscape, rendered it a most conspicuous object—furnished the inhabitants with a never-failing supply of water. Fountains threw up their glittering spray in every square, before every palace, in the court-yard of every mosque. In some instances, the stream poured in noisy volume from the mouth of a lion or a crocodile of gilded bronze, grotesque and terrible in appearance; in others, the drops rippled gently over the edges of exquisitely carved basins of porphyry and alabaster. The air was heavy with the mingled aroma of myriads of blossoms, as from orchard and garden were wafted the odors of many a delicious exotic, which filled the streets with their intoxicating fragrance.
Seven ponderous gates, covered with scales of brass, gave access to the five different quarters, or wards, into which the city was divided, each of which was isolated from the rest by walls and towers, as a means of security against the turbulent populace, whose insubordination was proverbial and whose loyalty was uncertain even under the iron hand of the most powerful ruler. To one of these wards the Christians, to another the Jews, were restricted, and, from their precincts, after sunset, no individual could emerge without incurring the penalty of death. From every gate a broad and well-paved highway led to the frontier cities of the empire,—Malaga, Badajoz, Astorga, Talavera, Toledo, Saragossa, Merida. The alcazar of the khalifs, built upon the site of the palace of the Visigothic kings, was of great size and impregnable strength. It probably included one of the wards above referred to, and contained the citadel, the official residence of the principal dignitaries of the court, and the barracks of the royal body-guard, as well as the quarters of an innumerable retinue of dependents and slaves. Near it was the gate leading to the bridge over the Guadalquivir, the scene of more than one historical event which changed the fortunes of the reigning dynasty in eras of revolution and disaster. That bridge was one of the grandest works ever designed by Roman genius. It was twelve hundred feet in length by thirty in breadth, and stood ninety feet above the water. It was defended by nineteen turrets. Built during the reign of Augustus, and in good repair to-day, it has served the purposes of war and commerce for sixty generations.
The inexhaustible fertility of the soil of Andalusia yielded, in the greatest profusion, the most delicious products of every clime. The necessaries of life were to be procured for a trifle. Every description of food was offered for sale in the markets, and luscious fruits and vegetables, classed as expensive luxuries or unattainable in the capitals of Christian Europe, were enjoyed in Cordova by persons in the most moderate circumstances. The attire of the humblest citizen indicated an unusual degree of personal comfort; professional mendicancy, that curse of Oriental communities, was discouraged and practically unknown; the worthy sufferer found a ready welcome in the public hospital, while the impostor was scourged into unwonted activity by the officers of justice.
The suburbs of Cordova, exclusive of the royal residence of Medina-al-Zahrâ, which was superior to the others in extent and beauty, were twenty-one in number. They bore romantic names suggested by their charming situations, and the admiring homage they received from the people, such as “The Vale of Paradise,” “The Beautiful Valley,” “The Path of Roses,” “The Garden of Wonders.” While subject to the jurisdiction of the central municipal power, they, in other respects, presented the aspect of a series of independent communities, provided with every necessity and luxury required by a numerous and thriving population,—shops, baths, inns, warehouses, markets, and mosques. Two occupied the opposite bank of the river; the others encircled the Moorish capital with a girdle of dazzling white villas, interspersed with groves of palms rising amidst a wealth of tropical verdure. For miles in every direction were orange orchards, whose sweetness impregnated the air for many a league. Rivulets and fountains diffused through street and garden a delicious coolness. Blossoms of gaudy hue and overpowering fragrance grew in profusion along the avenues. The columns in the court-yards were entwined with roses. Along the stone causeways radiating in every direction from the city trooped caravans of plodding camels, laden with products of the art and industry of Europe, Africa, and Asia; or, riding swift Andalusian horses, sped the royal couriers with despatches for the governors of the distant states of the empire. The majestic bridge across the Guadalquivir was, from sunrise to sunset, crowded to its utmost capacity with traders, servants, soldiers, mounted cavaliers, and beasts of burden.
The pampered tastes of the khalifs found their utmost gratification in the comparative seclusion of the ten villas which the latter possessed in the environs of their capital. Here were provided means of sensual enjoyment that far eclipsed, in extent and elegance, the voluptuous attractions and wanton extravagance of Capri, Sybaris, and Antioch. These abodes of pleasure, contrived with all the skill of the Saracen architect, were surrounded by grounds that exhibited to perfection the peculiar and surprising effects of the horticulture of Asia. Airy galleries, sustained by columns of polished marble, were brilliant with the beautiful stuccoes of Damascus. The mural decoration, imitated from the textile fabrics of India, partook of all the richness of silk brocade interwoven with threads of gold. The sparkling mosaics of Constantinople, lavished in gay profusion upon arch and alcove, contributed their share towards the embellishment of these enchanting retreats. Curious lattices of alabaster admitted a subdued and uncertain light. Sentences from the works of famous poets—most of them of an irreverent and bacchanalian character—met the eye upon cornice, architrave, and capital. The basins, wherein dashed, with musical tinkle, the jets of countless fountains, were of massy silver. The furniture was of aloe, sandal-wood, ebony, and ivory, delicately carved and inlaid. Lovely female slaves of every nationality, accomplished in the arts of poetry and music, and educated under the supervision of famous instructors, ministered to the wants of the Commander of the Faithful, entertained his leisure with animated and intellectual discourse, or relieved his care with their endearments and with the charms of song. Vast numbers of white and black eunuchs—the former selected for their beauty, the latter prized for their lofty stature and transcendent ugliness—glided mysteriously through the shadowy apartments, or, armed with jewelled weapons, guarded the forbidden portals of the harem.
In the gardens, the fertile imagination of the Oriental artist rioted in its marvellous creations. The walks, paved with colored pebbles, formed arabesques of quaint and varied patterns. The hedges were fashioned into imitations of fortified walls, with battlement, tower, and barbican. From concealed sources, fountains cast at regular intervals their waters high into the air. Labyrinths, from whose intricate paths escape was impossible without a guide, beset the way of the incautious guest. The scene was diversified with lakes, upon whose crystal surface floated swans and other water-fowl of silver; by grottos, whose cool recesses were suggestive of luxurious repose; by arcades of glossy evergreen; by plants of variegated foliage whose tints, at a distance, resembled a surface of rich enamel; by enchanting vistas, where clumps of odoriferous shrubs and colored grasses, interspersed with beds of brilliant flowers arranged in sentences expressing wishes for the happiness of the monarch and the glorification of Allah, covered the landscape like a piece of tapestry, more gorgeous than the most exquisite creations of the weaver that ever issued from the looms of Persia or Flanders.