The oldest and one of the most famous of these villas was Rusafah, the favorite resort of Abd-al-Rahman I. It was not merely a place of relaxation and enjoyment, for in its garden was first attempted the scientific cultivation of the botanical treasures of the East. Ever devoted to the romantic traditions of his Syrian home, the exiled prince had named his palace after one possessed by his ancestors in the vicinity of Damascus.
The other suburban residences of the khalifs were each distinguished by some peculiarity of location, structure, or ornament. One was famous for its innumerable fountains. In another were exhibited, in their greatest variety and beauty, the charming effects of floral decoration. A third, from the magnificent view it afforded, was called “The Abode of the Fortunate.” A profusion of mosaics and enamels had acquired for the most ornate of all the significant and appropriate name of “The Palace of the Diadem.”
To the northwest of Cordova, at the base of the picturesque Sierra Morena, three miles from the city, yet connected with it by a succession of mansions and gardens, was the palace and suburb of Medina-al-Zahrâ. Its traditional origin partakes of the romance which so frequently embellishes the history of the Orient. It is related by the Moorish historians that a wealthy concubine of Abd-al-Rahman III., being on her death-bed and desirous that her last act should be the fulfilment of one of the noblest obligations of her religion, requested that the wealth she owed to the generosity of her royal lover be expended in the ransom of Moslem captives. Anxious to comply with this pious request, the Khalif sent messengers to the Christian states of the North, but, even with the diligent co-operation of their princes, who were his allies or tributaries, he was unable to find a single slave to be redeemed from bondage. Then, at the suggestion of another concubine, the favorite of his harem, whose name, Al-Zahrâ, in the poetic nomenclature of the Arabs means The Blossom, he determined to use the treasure in building a palace whose unparalleled splendor might form a fitting climax to the glories of his reign. A third of the public revenues, a sum which, without including those derived from the taxes of Jews and Christians and the fifth of the spoils of battle, amounted annually to more than two million pieces of gold, was also devoted to the work by the enthusiastic monarch. Ten thousand laborers and twenty-eight thousand beasts of burden were daily employed. The minuteness and prolixity with which are described the quantity of materials used and their value, the nationalities of the artisans and their remuneration, as detailed by the Arab chroniclers, are instructive though tedious, and impart an air of veracity to a narrative which would otherwise almost transcend belief. The plans were drawn by the most eminent architects of Constantinople. The walls, substantially built of stone, measured seventeen hundred by twenty-seven hundred cubits, and were provided with all the outworks and defences of a formidable castle. As was the case with the Great Mosque, the materials of the edifice were collected largely from foreign sources and were put together under the supervision of Byzantine artificers, aided by the most skilful native workmen. Its construction was supervised by the Khalif in person, who, in his devotion to the undertaking, having absented himself for three successive Fridays from the services of the Mosque, was publicly rebuked by the kadi for this flagrant neglect of duty.
The quarries of Numidia, Greece, and Andalusia contributed supplies of the finest marble and alabaster. Capitals of Roman origin were furnished by the ruined temples of Narbonne, Tarragona, Utica, and Carthage. The Byzantine emperor sent as a present to his ally a number of columns, whose beautiful tints of green and rose called forth the admiration of all who beheld them.
The palace was divided into three distinct sections. On the slope of the mountain rose the magnificent alcazar, within whose apartments were lodged the monarch and the members of his seraglio, composed of sixty-three hundred women, with their slaves and attendants. The number of the latter was, all told, seventeen thousand.
Lower down, towards the city, were the quarters of the body-guard, the eunuchs, and the pages of the court, for whose accommodation four hundred houses were required. Next in order came the gardens, filled with choice plants and delicious fruits, and diversified with artificial cascades and lakes abounding in goldfish. Within the precincts of this horticultural paradise were to be encountered every specimen of the extensive flora—both native and foreign—known to the accomplished botanists of Andalusia. Hedges of myrtle, box, and laurel, trimmed in fantastic designs, separated the broad and winding walks of rustic mosaic. Summer-houses and shady bowers invited to the siesta after exposure to the glare and heat of a semi-tropical sun. The prolific ingenuity of the hydraulic engineer had exhausted itself in the wonderful distribution of streams of water—in the varying play of a thousand fountains; in miniature rivulets, whose tiny channels were chiselled in the balustrades of marble staircases; in fairy grottos, over whose roofs of painted glass the spray from revolving jets shone with kaleidoscopic effect; in roaring cascades, from whose sombre depths were constantly visible the iridescent hues of the rainbow. Some of the fountains were masterpieces of the sculptor’s art. Two of them are mentioned as being especially remarkable. The larger was of gilded bronze with human figures elegantly carved in relief, and came from Constantinople. The basin of the other, of green marble, was of Syrian workmanship, and disposed about its rim were twelve grotesque representations of animals and birds, cast in gold, and glittering with jewels. From the mouths of these curious monsters jets of water were projected into the basin below.
Over the main portal of the edifice, carved in alabaster with consummate skill, stood the effigy of the lovely slave whose suggestion had evoked this palace of the genii, and from whom it had received its name.
The portion of the gorgeous edifice upon which the Moorish chronicler most delights to dwell was the central pavilion. Elevated on a terrace of white marble, in both its exterior and interior it afforded a dazzling example of the wealth of its owner and of the exquisite taste of its architect.
Circular in form, its dome was supported by columns of precious marble and rock-crystal, whose capitals were inlaid with pearls and rubies. The walls and dome were of translucent onyx; the roof of gold and silver tiles, placed in alternate rows. The spandrels and the inscriptions of the frieze exhibited the imperishable tints and jewelled play of Byzantine mosaic. Doors of odoriferous woods inlaid with ivory, ebony, and gold, enriched with gems of great value, gave access to this magnificent apartment. Under the centre of the dome stood a movable basin of porphyry filled with quicksilver. In some manner, probably by the use of mirrors, the rays of the sun could be concentrated upon the metal and the basin caused to rotate rapidly by hidden mechanism, casting blinding flashes of light in every direction; dazzling the beholders with the intolerable glare, and striking with amazement and terror the ambassadors of foreign powers, for whose benefit this ingenious contrivance, which would seem rather to belong to the stage than to the audience-chamber of a powerful monarch, was repeatedly exhibited.
The hall of this pavilion was the scene of many of the most imposing ceremonies and remarkable events in the history of the khalifate. Here, the heir to the crown was publicly acknowledged and invested with his dignity. Here, the princes of the blood, the magnates of the realm, the heads of departments, the governors of provinces, assembled after the death of the sovereign to swear allegiance to his successor. Here, also, the envoys of the monarchies of Europe and the East were granted an audience under circumstances far exceeding in splendor the boasted pomp of Constantinople, Aix-la-Chapelle, and Bagdad. Under this translucent and glittering dome were received the Kings of Leon and Navarre, suppliants for the favor and alliance of the hereditary enemy of their people and their faith. On these occasions was displayed all the ostentatious magnificence of which the most brilliant court in Europe was capable. The decorations of the audience-chamber—already unparalleled in richness—were heightened with silken carpets and hangings of cloth of silver. The Khalif, seated on a throne blazing with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, was surrounded by his family and his courtiers attired in their robes of state. About the pavilion and around the terrace was marshalled the royal guard, unrivalled in the elegance of its appointments by any similar body of soldiers in the world. The white robes of the eunuchs and slaves formed an appropriate background to the gorgeous picture, which imparted to the bewildered barbarians of the German forests and the Pyrenean mountains a startling impression of the civilization and resources of the detested infidel.