holy mih-rab, and the part once occupied by the maksurrah. This
sovereign delighted in rich colouring, in splendour and daring in the
construction of delicate columns to heavy arches, and in the extension
of the fantastic arched naves. He almost doubled the size of the
Mezquita by the extensions on the south side.
Under Almanzor there was no slackening in the enthusiasm which the
Omeyyad family exhibited in improving Cordova and extending and
beautifying its famous House of Purification. The part added to the
Mosque by Almanzor is that behind the altar, to the left, when entering
by the Door of Pardon. The enlargement during this Khalif’s rule was
towards the east. New rows of columns, numbering eight, were added,
giving a fresh sense of vastness to the aisles and vistas of interlaced
arches.
The great Mosque was completed in the time of Almanzor, and its
completion was the presage of the decline of Arab power in Spain. In
extent the building now measures 394 feet by 360 feet. Almanzor put the
finishing touches to the work which Abd-er-Rahman I. began. For
generations architects, designers, artists, masons, and metal-workers
had lovingly toiled to produce a triumph of art.
The Mosque was finished. Almanzor sought to improve upon the designs
and bewildering brilliance displayed in the labour of preceding reigns;
but it is doubtful whether his endeavours heightened the splendour of
the structure, or gave fresh lustre to the building that stood in the
days of Hakem II. It is agreed among the authorities upon Moorish art
that Almanzor’s contributions to the edifice show evidence of a decline
in taste, and a waning of the æsthetic sense of the Arab-Byzantine
schools of designers and craftsmen.
When Almanzor died, the Mosque was 742 feet in length from north to
south, and 472 feet in width from east to west. It was encompassed by
battlemented walls, with towers of irregular height. The south wall was
the highest, and it had nineteen towers. The total number of the
watch-towers was forty-eight, and the majority of these have survived.
In the stressful days when the Moorish colonisers sought to possess the
whole of the Iberian Peninsula, Cordova was stoutly fortified, and the
Mosque was protected by this unscalable wall. This barrier of stone is
over six feet thick, and designed to withstand the most violent
battering. The defences of the sanctuary are very picturesque; there is
a subject for the painter at every tower and corner; but they are
perhaps a little less wonderful than the grim walls of Avila, or the
sombre parapets of brown Toledo. They are made of durable stone, which
is marvellously preserved. Many times have these battlements shuddered
at the shouts of the fierce besiegers and the determined defenders;
often have their stones been stained with the blood of Goth and Moor.
To-day, in the shadow of the walls, we stroll and look upon the calm
vistas, the plain, and the cold grey slopes of the sierras, and see the
beggars shrinking from the blinding glare of the sun, prone upon the
ground in their tatters, in the cool shelter which the tall towers
yield. The Mosque dreams, as all things dream in ancient Spain. Its
solid outer walls have defied the ravage of storms and wars. They remain
weird monuments of Oriental strength, placid and somewhat mournful in
their magnificent sufficiency.
V
IN THE COURT OF ORANGES
The Court of Oranges is shaded on one side by the oldest parts of the
Mosque. It is much larger than the Orange Court, or Patio de los
Naranjos, of the cathedral of Seville. Here was once the Court of
Ablutions, the place where the faithful purified themselves before
venturing within the Mezquita. The fountains, five in number, remain to
remind us of the original character of the courtyard. Women come here to
fetch water from the clear springs. They carry tall jars upon their
hips, or upon their heads, and loiter by the fountain to gossip.
This quiet court invites the aged and the idler. It is cool and
gratefully shaded, and when the orange-trees are in bloom a fragrance
pervades the place. The priests who officiate in the cathedral spend the
hours of leisure here, pacing in pairs up and down, as they smoke their
cigarettes. Now and again, one notes the lover waiting for his fair one
amid the fountains and the palms.
Once there were nineteen beautiful gateways leading into the Court of
the Oranges, and these were uniform with the nineteen aisles. We enter
by the Puerta de los Palmas, facing the Puerta del Perdon. The sumptuous
Gate of Pardon at once attracts us. It is over twenty feet high, with
the characteristic horseshoe arches and the elaborate Oriental
ornamentation. But this is not the ancient gate; it dates from the
Christian recapture of Cordova, and is constructed in imitation of the
Arabian work. It is surmounted by a belfry. The upper part of the
horseshoe arches is exceedingly ornate, and on either side are coats of
arms. The structure is in the Estilo Sarraceno. There are massive doors,
coated with copper, upon which are inscriptions. Above the door are
poorly painted frescoes.
The Bell Tower erected in place of the old minaret of Abd-er-Rahman III.
is not Moorish. It was designed by Hernan Ruiz, one of the Christian
architects who planned the cathedral. This tower is interesting as a
later monument, but it is not in harmony with the Mosque. It rises
higher than the former minaret, is more pretentious, and is out of
character with the surroundings. On the top is a figure of San Rafael.
The Court of Oranges is over four hundred feet long and more than two
hundred feet in breadth. There was a destruction of many of the trees
during a violent storm about seventy years ago, and some of the
orange-trees were not replaced. The courtyard has quiet cloisters on
three sides, with pillars and arches in the Gothic style.
One side of the Patio de los Naranjos is occupied by the Mosque, and it
is here we see the finest exterior work of the time of Abd-er-Rahman I.
and Hisham. The portions added by Almanzor are behind the altar to the
left, when entering by the Gate of Pardon. In the main the impression
that one gains in the Court of Oranges is distinctly Moorish. The
fountains, the trees, the fine doors of the Mosque, the walls, the gate
on the eastern side, and the inscriptions are purely Oriental. For the
rest there has been tampering. The hand of the ‘restorer’ can be traced,
and the Bell Tower is an affront upon the old edifice.
Four of the fountains were originally constructed by Hakem II., when he
had spent his energy upon improving the interior of the Mezquita. The
two founts in the east were for the ablution of the women; the two in
the west for the purification of the men. The fountains were scooped out
of single blocks of marble, brought from one quarry. To bring these huge
masses of marble to their positions in the Court of Oranges, it was
necessary to make a sloping road. The fountains were drawn by oxen, and
borne upon heavy carts, and seventy beasts were required for each team.
When the tanks were set in their places, the water streamed in through
the great aqueduct of Abd-er-Rahman I., and the surplus went to fill
other fountains in the city.
There was no sparing of the toil of man or beast in the days when the
Omeyyads reigned in Cordova, for each Khalif seemed eager for the
completion of his share of work upon the Mezquita. The army of Morisco
labourers was augmented by a host of Christian captives, and we read
that these unfortunates were employed to carry stone upon their heads.
We can imagine the files of Christians, each man bending under his
burden, compelled to toil in the upraising of a mighty temple to the
glory of Islam. But the pendulum swings, and time brings its changes in
the fortunes of Moor and Christian. At a later period it is the
Mudejar, the ‘reconciled’ Moor, who supports the cumbrous loads upon
his head, and does the bidding of the Catholic in the construction of
the cathedral. And out of all this labour and sweat, hewing of stone,
forging of metal, carving of wood and ivory, beating of gold and silver,
and laying on of choice, imperishable colours, we have the composite
fane of to-day--the Christian cathedral enfolded in the more wondrous
structure of the Mohammedan Mosque. Surely there are questions that
flash upon the mind as we sit in the Orange Court, and listen to the
throb of the bell calling the Christians to prayer within the ancient
Mezquita of the Omeyyads!
But the Cordovese do not appear to ponder upon Time’s fantastic
transformations. They muse of other things--the affairs of the hour--and
regard the Mezquita as an excellent asset to their slumbrous and
impoverished city. Every stranger within their walls is looked upon as a
sightseer; and what should he come to see but the famous Mosque? And so
the boys in the street, offering their services as guides through the
labyrinthine white alleys, point ahead and cry: ‘Mezquita, Mezquita.’
For the building is not known as the cathedral; it is still called the
Mosque, although it has been reconsecrated and dedicated to the worship
of God and the Virgin Mother.
Climb to the top of the tower and look around upon the bleached houses
of the city, the curving river, the dull green of the olive thickets,
the yellow grain fields, and the grey ridges of the mountains.
Everything is sharp, clear-cut in the unpolluted air, and glowing in the
brilliant sunshine of the south. The thoroughfares are like a network,
tangled and mazy. Carthaginian hosts crossed those sierras to conquer
this coveted territory from the Iberians. Then came the legions of Rome,
to expel the settlers and to found Corduba. Here stood the great temple
of Janus in the days of Seneca and Lucan, the arena, the schools, and
the institutions of a powerful and cultured people. But all these fell
with the inrush of the Goths from the north, those intrepid warriors,
fanatical as they were fearless; and Cordova saw the ruin of the Roman
civilisation, and the inception of a new faith and a new social order.
The scene changes constantly; the action of the drama is vivid. Again
the invading flood sweeps over Andalusia. The swarthy Moors advance in
battle array to the walls of the city, and the affrighted Cordovese fly
to their churches for hiding. Again there sounds the clash of weapons
and the shouts of combatants. And Islam prevails; the Christian
cathedral is given to the Moors, and the Mezquita takes its place.
For centuries the Omeyyad rules in Cordova, and shapes the city to his
fashion, obliterating almost every trace of the preceding orders,
creeds, and customs. These are the palmy days, whose memorial lies below
us in the Mosque, and the bridge over the Guadalquivir. These are the
days that made Cordova a name familiar in the ears of the civilised
nations, the days of power, splendour, and learning, whose glory shone
throughout the world. The new Mecca arose; the creed of the East
conquered, and Iberia was transformed to the guise of the Orient. And as
the Moorish sway spread, and the conquered Christians conformed to the
new traditions, and the country prospered, men thought that this state
was sound and stable, and probably final and perfect.
But the pendulum swung again; the dominion of Islam was threatened by
enemies within and without. History repeated itself; Time worked its
inevitable revenge, and a lustier race made profit from the decadence of
the Morisco civilisation. Spain arose and turned upon her oppressor,
and the streets of Cordova were once more drenched with the blood of
Moor and Christian. This proud Bell Tower stands as a symbol of the
reconquest, and of the decline of Cordova.
Christian Spain rejoiced in her change of fortune. The crusaders set
themselves to demolish and to upheave. They abandoned the wholesome
habits of the Moors; the baths were destroyed by the hundred as useless
relics of the detested Mohammedan. Temples, colleges, and palaces were
thrown down. Science, the arts, and letters were neglected. We have read
how trade forsook Cordova, and how the light of learning was almost
extinguished. Gone were the cultured days of Abd-er-Rahman III., and the
resplendent pomp of Almanzor. The Mecca of the West had fallen; the fate
of Roman Corduba had come upon it. There was no revival, no uprising of
the ruins from the ashes that could remake Cordova in the semblance of
its old self. Vestiges alone remained to remind the beholder of the
grandeur and the glory of the Mohammedan domination. A misdirected
imperialism, an irrational conception of greatness, wrought the wreckage
of the ‘Bride of Andalus’ after her recapture by the Christian
Spaniards.
VI
THE SPLENDOURS OF THE MOSQUE
Before the rise of Mahomet, the architecture of the Arabs was almost
devoid of those specific characters that we find in the later work of
Omeyyad designers and artists. The pristine Arabian edifices were built
as though the tent served as the model for the architects of this
nomadic race. But in the great Mosque of Omar at Jerusalem we have the
first example of a new and vigorous development of the art of
architecture. The minaret, or praying-tower, was invented by Alwalid,
and other distinctive features of the Moorish or Saracenic style were
introduced in religious buildings.
In the earliest Morisco-Spanish edifices there was not much original
work. The Visigothic temples were reconsecrated to the new faith and
adapted to the plans of the primitive Mohammedan mosques, but the
designs and style of decoration were not purely Morisco. The work was
probably influenced by Persian and ancient Egyptian art, and according
to Señor F. M. Tubino it contained Semitic elements. We shall also note
the incorporation of the Corinthian capital with the slender Moorish
column of marbles of various colours. The characteristic horseshoe arch,
with its delicate columns, was one of the earliest manifestations of the
developing art of the Moors. There has been much discussion concerning
the introduction of the pointed arch, which is so often claimed as
‘Gothic.’ The arch in architecture was no doubt copied from the curved
interlacing of the branches of trees, and the wide, flat arch was
succeeded by models of a more pointed type. In the thirteenth century
the pointed arch was a comparatively common form, and it is fairly
evident that its origin was in the East.
In the Mosque of Jerusalem, and of Amrou, in Cairo, there were early
examples of the pointed arch. The contrary flexure is a form of pointed
arch, and it was used by the Moors. Sir Christopher Wren, and other
authorities upon architectural art, lean to the opinion that the
so-called Gothic arch is of Oriental origin. There are, however, a
number of students who have endeavoured to disprove the Moorish genesis
of the narrow arch.
In the First Period of Morisco architecture, the talent and the energy
of the designers were chiefly applied to the planning of military
defences, towers, walls, and embattlements. The Second Period was one of
greater security from the alarms of wars, and the architects devoted
their art to devising religious structures and noble mosques. In the
Third Period we see the upraising of fine secular buildings, palaces,
dwelling-houses, with their courts and colonnades, and the erection of
sumptuous marble baths.
From the eighth to the eleventh century the style in Spain is known as
the Arab-Spanish, and is sometimes called the Estilo Califato. This
style is ‘Saracenic,’ with Jewish features. In the next period, from the
twelfth to the thirteenth century, we have the Almohade development of
Arabian architecture, whose examples may be seen in most of the Moorish
cities of Spain. The last period--from the fourteenth to the fifteenth
century--which marks the decline of the pure Morisco designs, is
sometimes described as the Alhamares.
The salient characteristics of Moorish architecture are the groves of
slender columns, the interlacing horseshoe arches in bewildering
profusion, the minaret, with its gradually inclined path in lieu of
steps for the ascent, the gorgeous colouring of flat surfaces, the
mosaics, dazzling gildings, and decorations of precious stones and
jewels. It was the Moor who discovered the art of preserving colour and
rendering his adornments imperishable. The flat illuminations were
probably imitations of Egyptian decoration, but it is not certain that
the secret of preserving the lavish and brilliant colours was derived
from Egypt.
In selecting his woods for the purposes of decorating the Mosque of
Cordova, the Moor employed those of the most durable texture, so
durable, indeed, that age has scarcely left its mark upon them. The
bricks and stones are equally lasting, as may be proved by an inspection
of the walls of the Mezquita. There was no hasty work in the
construction of the temple of Allah. Nothing was used except material of
a permanent quality. The treasure of the earth, its forests and its
mountains, was employed in the great labour of duty and devotion.
It has been suggested that the horseshoe arch has a very ancient
symbolic meaning of a Phallic origin. This is, perhaps, not the occasion
for discussing this theory. It is apparent that the Moors employed this
form of decoration upon every opportunity and complicated it in a
variety of styles. They used it in their doorways, aisles, cloisters,
and windows. The Ajimez window is typically Morisco. It has usually from
two to three arches, supported on fine columns, and is exceedingly
graceful in design. Ajimez signifies a window through which the sun or
light shines. For effects of light in the interiors of their fanes the
Morisco architects designed several ingenious apertures, such as the
star-shaped window, through which the daylight peers with singular
weirdness.
The defect of the Mosque of Cordova is in a want of space above the
naves. We lack the grandeur of height within the building. Loftiness
does not seem to have appealed to the designers. The average height of
the columns is about sixteen feet. Length and breadth have, however,
been carefully considered in the construction of the temple, and the
long arched aisles are like forest avenues. There were once one thousand
and twelve columns in the building, but many of these were removed when
San Fernando commanded that the Mezquita should be adapted as a
Christian cathedral.
The Vizier, Almanzor, removed the eastern wall of the Mosque and
extended the building in order to add eight new naves. These naves had
the same number of arches as those already standing, and they were
intersected at right angles with lesser naves, thirty-five in number. At
this period a lack of space necessitated a narrowing of some of the
arches, and the curves were made more pointed. Every conceivable
ornamentation was introduced in the beautifying of these arches.
The _foseyfasa_, or enamel-work of the Moors, is seen in its brilliant
examples in the Mosque. This enamel, called _foseyfasa_ by the Arabs, is
composed of crushed glass and small pebbles baked together with gorgeous
colours, and sometimes containing an admixture of gold and silver. It
was used at Damascus, in the great Mosque, and at Constantinople.
According to Gayangos, this mosaic enamel was set in its place by Greek
mechanics imported by Abd-er-Rahman. This work is finely exampled upon
the entrance to the sanctuary, and throughout the Mosque there are
specimens of this wondrous art of embellishment.
The principal nave of the Mezquita has huge arches on stone columns,
with finely carved capitals, and a large number of minor arches in the
Estilo del Califato. Most of these columns were made from the stone of
Spanish quarries. They are of jasper, marble, and other stone, and
number nearly nine hundred. Narrow avenues run transversely through the
grand aisles. We are lost in them; these passages appear interminable,
and their ribbon decorations bewilder the eyes.
We approach the sacred mih-rab, the receptacle of the Koran, the holiest
of holies of the temple. The façade is exceedingly beautiful, in the
later style of decoration, and the arcades of the vestibule of the
sanctuary have fine triple arches and interlacing curves of exquisite
design. The dome is cone-shaped.
The door is in the Estilo del Califato, dazzling in the wealth of its
colouring, marvellous in the grace and symmetry of its main arch,
trefoil arches, and delicate frets. The mih-rab is seven-sided, with a
cupola of extraordinary richness of hue, and details of the greatest
interest. One is baffled in attempting to describe this sanctuary. The
technical terms of architecture do not convey a conception of its beauty
to the lay mind. In the days of its glory, the mih-rab was illuminated
by an enormous lamp and huge candles. El-Makkari, the Arab, says that
the great lantern had nearly fifteen hundred lights, and that the total
number of lights was over ten thousand. The enamels shone with their
brilliant hues in the rays of these lamp-lights and candles until the
eye could scarcely rest upon the walls and the cupola. Here the khalifs
came in pomp to worship, and to scan reverently the pages of the costly
Koran.
The hollowed roof of the mih-rab and the floor are of white marble. We
may see the marks worn by the knees of the faithful who came hither to
pay their devotions to the Father of Islam. The mosaics of the walls
exhibit the finest designs and richest tones of the _foseyfasa_ work.
This is the third mih-rab, the production of Hakem, and it is a retreat
that speaks eloquently of that piety which seeks to glorify a deity by
the erection and adornment of a temple. It is resplendent beyond
compare.
This chamber was the repository of the famous _nimbar_, a pulpit on
wheels, which had seven steps, and could be moved to any part of the
Mosque. When the Christians regained power in the city, this highly
ornamented pulpit was cut into pieces, and portions of it were used in
the construction of the altar. The superb copy of the Koran, to which we
have referred before, was kept in a golden case, mounted with precious
stones. It was so heavy that two men were required to carry it.
Upon the ceiling of the Mezquita there were formerly inscriptions. Among
them were the command: ‘Be not one of the negligent,’ and the dictum:
‘There is no God but Allah, to whom all beings address themselves in
their need.’ The Christians effaced these inscriptions when the Mosque
was purified and consecrated to the Virgin Mother.
In the Capilla de Villaviciosa we shall see the Arab-Byzantine crossed
arches on decorated columns. This was the retreat of the Khalif, and it
was once lined with silver. The chapel is the only one of Moorish
interest. There are forty-five Christian chapels, but these scarcely
demand inspection. In front of the Capilla of San Pablo is the tomb of
Pablo de Céspedes, the Cordovese painter. This chapel has a horseshoe
arch with sharp points. The Capilla de la Cena contains ‘The Last
Supper,’ painted by Céspedes. And in the Sala Capitular were statues by
Alonso Cano and de Mora.