PART III

XXXII

ALGERIA VIEWED FROM MOROCCO

"One does not become a horseman till one has fallen."

_Moorish Proverb._

A journey through Algeria shows what a stable and enlightened

Government has been able to do in a land by no means so highly

favoured by Nature as Morocco, and peopled by races on the whole

inferior. The far greater proportion of land there under cultivation

emphasizes the backward state of Morocco, although much of it still

remains untouched; while the superior quality of the produce,

especially of the fruits, shows what might be accomplished in the

adjoining country were its condition improved. The hillsides of

Algeria are in many districts clothed with vines which prosper

exceedingly, often almost superseding cereals as objects of

cultivation by Europeans.

The European colonists are of all nationalities, and the proportion

which is not French is astonishingly large, but every inducement is

held out for naturalization as Algerians, and all legitimate obstacles

are thrown in the way of those who maintain fidelity to their

fatherlands. Every effort is made to render Algeria virtually part of

France, as politically it is already considered to be. It is the case

of the old days of slavery revived under a new form, when the renegade

was received with open arms, and the man who remained steadfast was

seldom released from slavery. Of course, in these days there is

nothing approaching such treatment, and it is only the natives who

suffer to any extent.

These are despised, if not hated, and despise and hate in return. The

conquerors have repeated in Algeria the old mistake which has brought

about such dire results in other lands, of always retaining the

position of conquerors, and never unbending to the conquered, or

encouraging friendship with them. This attitude nullifies whatever

good may result from the mixed schools in which Muslim, Jew, and

European are brought in contact, in the hope of turning out a sort of

social amalgam. Most of the French settlers are too conceited and too

ignorant to learn Arabic, though this is by no means the fault of the

Government, which provides free public classes for instruction in that

language in the chief towns of Algeria and Tunisia. The result is

that the natives who meet most with foreigners have, without the most

ordinary facilities enjoyed by the Europeans, to pick up a jargon

which often does much more credit to them than the usual light

acquaintance of the foreigner with Arabic does to him. Those who make

any pretence at it, usually speak it with an accent, a pronunciation

and a nonchalance which show that they have taken no pains whatever to

acquire it. Evidently it pays better to spend money educating natives

in French than Frenchmen in Arabic. It is an amusing fact that most of

the teachers have produced their own text-books, few of which possess

special merit.

As a colony Algeria has proved a failure. Foreign settlers hold most

of the desirable land, and till it with native labour. The native may

have safety and justice now, but he has suffered terribly in the past,

as the reports of the Bureau Arabe, established for his protection,

abundantly prove, and bitterly he resents his fate. No love is lost

between French and natives in Tunisia, but there is actual hatred in

Algeria, fostered by the foreigner far more than by the smouldering

bigotry of Islám. They do not seem to intermingle even as oil and

water, but to follow each a separate, independent course.

Among the foreign colonists it is a noteworthy fact that the most

successful are not the French, who want too much comfort, but almost

any of the nationalities settled there, chiefly Spaniards and

Italians. The former are to be found principally in the neighbourhood

of Óran, and the latter further east; they abound in Tunisia.

Englishmen and others of more independent nature have not been made

welcome in either country, and year by year their interests have

dwindled. Even in Tunisia, under a different system, the same result

has been achieved, and every restriction reconcilable with paper

rights has been placed on other than French imports. There may be an

"open door," but it is too closely guarded for us. The English houses

that once existed have disappeared, and what business is done with

this country has had to take refuge with agents, for the most part

Jews.

In studying the life of Algerian towns, the almost entire absence of

well-to-do Arabs or Berbers is striking. I never came across one who

might be judged from his appearance to be a man of means or position,

unless in military or official garb, though there are doubtless many

independent natives among the Berber and Arab tribes. The few whom I

encountered making any pretence of dressing well were evidently of no

social rank, and the complaint on every hand is that the natives are

being gradually ousted from what little is left to them.

As for European law, they consider this to have no connection

with justice, and think themselves very heavily taxed to support

innovations with which they have no concern, and which they would

rather dispense with. One can, indeed, feel for them, though there

is no doubt much to be said on both sides, especially when it is the

other side which boasts the power, if not the superior intelligence.

The Jews, however, thrive, and in many ways have the upper hand,

especially so since the wise move which accorded them the rights

of French citizenship. It is remarkable, however, how much less

conspicuous they are in the groups about the streets than in Morocco,

notwithstanding that their dress is quite as distinctive as there,

though different.

The new-comer who arrives at the fine port of Algiers finds it

as greatly transformed as its name has been from the town which

originally bore it, El Jazîrah. The fine appearance of the rising

tiers of houses gives an impression of a still larger city than it

really is, for very little is hidden from view except the suburbs.

From a short way out to sea the panorama is grand, but it cannot be

as chaste as when the native city clustered in the hollow with its

whitewashed houses and its many minarets, completely surrounded by

green which has long since disappeared under the advancing tide of

bricks and mortar. One can hardly realize that this fine French city

has replaced the den of pirates of such fearful histories. Yet there

is the original light-house, the depôt for European slaves, and away

on the top of yonder hill are remains of the ancient citadel. It was

there, indeed, that those dreadful cruelties were perpetrated, where

so many Christians suffered martyrdom. Yes, this is where once stood

the "famous and war-like city, El Jazîrah," which was in its time "the

scourge of Christendom."

Whether the visitor be pleased or disappointed with the modern city

depends entirely on what he seeks. If he seeks Europe in Africa, with

perhaps just a dash of something oriental, he will be amply satisfied

with Algiers, which is no longer a native city at all. It is as French

as if it had risen from the soil entirely under French hands, and only

the slums of the Arab town remain. The seeker after native life will

therefore meet with complete disappointment, unless he comes straight

from Europe, with no idea what he ought to expect. All the best parts

of the town, the commercial and the residential quarters, have long

since been replaced by European substitutes, leaving hardly a trace of

the picturesque originals, while every day sees a further encroachment

on the erstwhile African portion, the interest of which is almost

entirely removed by the presence of crowds of poor Europeans and

European-dressed Jews. The visitor to Algiers would therefore do well

to avoid everything native, unless he has some opportunity of also

seeing something genuine elsewhere. The only specimens he meets in

the towns are miserable half-caste fellows--by habit, if not by

birth,--for their dress, their speech, their manners, their homes,

their customs, their religion--or rather their lack of religion,--have

all suffered from contact with Europeans. But even before the

Frenchmen came, it is notorious how the Algerines had sunk under the

bane of Turkish rule, as is well illustrated by their own saying, that

where the foot of the Turk had trod, grass refused to grow. Of all the

Barbary States, perhaps none has suffered more from successive outside

influences than the people of Algeria.

The porter who seizes one's luggage does not know when he is using

French words or Arabic, or when he introduces Italian, Turkish, or

Spanish, and cannot be induced to make an attempt at Arabic to a

European unless the latter absolutely refuses to reply to his jargon.

Then comes a hideous corruption of his mother tongue, in which the

foreign expressions are adorned with native inflexions in the most

comical way. His dress is barbarous, an ancient and badly fitting pair

of trousers, and stockingless feet in untidy boots, on the heels of

which he stamps along the streets with a most unpleasant noise. The

collection of garments which complete his attire are mostly European,

though the "Fez" cap remains the distinctive feature of the Muslim's

dress, and a selhám--that cloak of cloaks, there called a "bûrnûs"--is

slung across his shoulder. Some few countrymen are to be seen who

still retain the more graceful native costume, with the typical

camel-hair or cotton cord bound round the head-dress, but the old

inhabitants are being steadily driven out of town.

[Illustration: TENT OF AN ALGERIAN SHEÏKH.]

The characteristic feature of Algerian costumes is the head-cord

referred to, which pervades a great part of Arabdom, in Syria and

Arabia being composed of two twists of black camel hair perhaps an

inch thick. In Algeria it is about an eighth of an inch thick, and

brown. The slippers are also characteristic, but ugly, being of black

leather, excellently made, and cut very far open, till it becomes an

art to keep them on, and the heels have to be worn up. The use of the

white selhám is almost universal, unhemmed at the edges, as in Tunis

also; and over it is loosely tied a short haïk fastened on the head by

the cord.

There is, however, even in Algiers itself, one class of men who remain

unaffected by their European surroundings, passive amid much change,

a model for their neighbours. These are the Beni M'záb, a tribe of

Mohammedan Protestants from southern Algeria, where they settled long

ago, as the Puritans did in New England, that they might there worship

God in freedom. They were the Abadîya, gathered from many districts,

who have taken their modern name from the tribe whose country they now

inhabit. They speak a dialect of Berber, and dress in a manner which

is as distinctive as their short stature, small, dark, oily features,

jet-black twinkling eyes, and scanty beard. They come to the towns to

make money, and return home to spend it, after a few years of busy

shop-keeping. A butcher whom I met said that he and a friend had the

business year and year about, so as not to be too long away from home

at a time. They are very hard-working, and have a great reputation for

honesty; they keep their shops open from about five in the morning

till nine at night. As the Beni M'záb do not bring their wives with

them, they usually live together in a large house, and have their

own mosque, where they worship alone, resenting the visits of all

outsiders, even of other Muslims. Admission to their mosque is

therefore practically refused to Europeans, but in Moorish dress I was

made welcome as some distinguished visitor from saintly Fez, and found

it very plain, more like the kûbbah of a saint-house than an ordinary

mosque.

There are also many Moors in Algeria, especially towards the west.

These, being better workmen than the Algerines, find ready employment

as labourers on the railways. Great numbers also annually visit Óran

and the neighbourhood to assist at harvest time. Those Moors who live

there usually disport themselves in trousers, strange to stay, and,

when they can afford it, carry umbrellas. They still adhere to the

turban, however, instead of adopting the head cord. At Blidah I found

that all the sellers of sfinges--yeast fritters--were Moors, and those

whom I came across were enthusiastic to find one who knew and liked

their country. The Algerines affect to despise them and their home,

which they declare is too poor to support them, thus accounting for

their coming over to work.

The specimens of native architecture to be met with in Algeria are

seldom, if ever, pure in style, and are generally extremely corrupt.

The country never knew prosperity as an independent kingdom, such as

Morocco did, and it is only in Tlemçen, on the borders of that Empire,

that real architectural wealth is found, but then this was once the

capital of an independent kingdom. The palace at Constantine is not

Moorish at all, except in plan, being adorned with a hap-hazard

collection of odds and ends from all parts. It is worse than even the

Bardo at Tunis, where there is some good plaster carving--naksh el

hadeed--done by Moorish or Andalucian workmen. In the palaces of the

Governor and the Archbishop of Algiers, which are also very composite,

though not without taste, there is more of this work, some of it very

fine, though much of it is merely modern moulded imitation.

Of more than a hundred mosques and shrines found in Algiers when it

was taken by the French, only four of the former and a small number

of the latter remain, the rest having been ruthlessly turned into

churches. The Mosque of Hasan, built just over a century ago, is now

the cathedral, though for this transformation it has been considerably

distorted, and a mock-Moorish façade erected in the very worst taste.

Inside things are better, having been less interfered with, but what

is now a church was never a good specimen of a mosque, having been

originally partly European in design, the work of renegades. The same

may be said of the Mosque of the Fisheries, a couple of centuries old,

built in the form of a Greek cross! One can well understand how

the Dey, according to the story, had the architect put to death on

discovering this anomaly. These incongruities mar all that is supposed

in Algeria to be Arabesque. The Great Mosque, nevertheless, is more

ancient and in better style, more simple, more chaste, and more

awe-inspiring. The Zawîah of Sîdi Abd er-Rahmán, outside the walls,

is as well worth a visit as anything in Algiers, being purely and

typically native. It is for the opportunities given for such peeps

as this that one is glad to wander in Algeria after tasting the real

thing in Morocco, where places of worship and baths are closed to

Europeans. These latter I found all along North Africa to be much what

they are in Morocco, excepting only the presence of the foreigners.

The tile work of Algeria is ugly, but many of the older Italian and

other foreign specimens are exceptionally good, both in design and

colour. Some of the Tunisian tiles are also noteworthy, but it is

probable that none of any real artistic value were ever produced in

what is now conveniently called Algeria. There is nothing whatever in

either country to compare with the exquisite Fez work found in the

Alhambra, hardly to rival the inferior productions of Tetuan. A

curious custom in Algeria is to use all descriptions of patterns

together "higgledy-piggledy," upside down or side-ways, as though

the idea were to cover so much surface with tiling, irrespective of

design. Of course this is comparatively modern, and marks a period

since what art Algeria ever knew had died out. It is noticeable, too,

how poor the native manufacturers are compared with those of Morocco,

themselves of small account beside those of the East. The wave of

civilization which swept over North Africa in the Middle Ages failed

to produce much effect till it recoiled upon itself in the far, far

west, and then turned northward into Spain.

Notwithstanding all this, Algeria affords an ample field for study for

the scientist, especially the mountain regions to the south, where

Berber clans and desert tribes may be reached in a manner impossible

yet in Morocco, but the student of oriental life should not visit them

till he has learnt to distinguish true from false among the still

behind-hand Moors.

XXXIII

TUNISIA VIEWED FROM MOROCCO

"The slave toils, but the Lord completes."

_Moorish Proverb._

Fortunately for the French, the lesson learned in Algeria was not

neglected when the time came for their "pacific penetration" of

Tunisia. Their first experience had been as conquerors of anything but

pacific intent, and for a generation they waged war with the Berber

tribes. Everywhere, even on the plains, where conquest was easy, the

native was dispossessed. The land was allotted to Frenchmen or to

natives who took the oath of allegiance to France, and became French

subjects. Those who fought for their fatherland were driven off, the

villages depopulated, and the country laid waste. In the cities the

mosques were desecrated or appropriated to what the native considered

idolatrous worship. They have never been restored to their owners.

Those Algerines only have flourished who entered the French army or

Government service, and affected manners which all but cut them off

from their fellow-countrymen.

In Tunisia the French succeeded, under cover of specious assurances to

the contrary, in overthrowing the Turkish beys, rehabilitating them in

name as their puppets, with hardly more opposition than the British

met with in Burma. The result is a nominally native administration

which takes the blame for failures, and French direction which takes

the credit for successes. All that was best in Algeria has been

repeated, but native rights have been respected, and the cities, with

their mosques and shrines, left undisturbed as far as possible. The

desecration of the sacred mosque of Kaïrwán as a stable was a notable

exception.

The difference between the administration of Algeria and that of

Tunisia makes itself felt at every step. In the one country it is the

ruling of a conquered people for the good of the conquerors alone, and

in the other it is the ruling of an unconquered people by bolstering

up and improving their own institutions under the pretence of seeking

their welfare. The immense advantage of the Tunisian system is

apparent on all sides. The expense is less, the excuses for

irregularities are greater, and the natives still remain a nominal

power in the land, instead of being considered as near serfs as is

permissible in this twentieth century.

The results of the French occupation were summed up to me by a

Tunisian as the making of roads, the introduction of more money and

much drunkenness, and the institution of laws which no native could

ever hope to understand. But France has done more than that in Tunis,

even for the native. He has the benefit of protection for life and

property, with means of education and facilities for travel, and an

outlet for his produce. He might do well--and there are many instances

of commercial success--but while he is jibbing against the foreign

yoke, the expatriated Jews, whom he treated so badly when he had the

upper hand, are outstripping him every day. The net result of the

foreigners' presence is good for him, but it would be much better had

he the sense to take advantage of his chances as the Jew does. Many of

the younger generation, indeed, learn French, and enter the great army

of functionaries, but they are rigidly restricted to the lowest posts,

and here again the Jew stands first.

In business or agriculture there is sure to come a time when cash is

needed, so that French and Jewish money-lenders flourish, and when the

Tunisian cannot pay, the merciless hand of foreign law irresistibly

sells him up. In the courts the complicated procedure, the intricate

code, and the swarm of lawyers, bewilder him, and he sighs for the

time when a bribe would have settled the question, and one did at

least know beforehand which would win--the one with the longer purse.

Now, who knows? But the Tunisian's principal occasions for discontent

are the compulsory military service, and the multiplication and weight

of the taxes. From the former only those are exempt who can pass

certain examinations in French, and stiff ones at that, so that Arabic

studies are elbowed out; the unremitted military duties during the

Ramadán fast are regarded as a peculiar hardship. To the taxes there

seems no end, and from them no way of escape. Even the milkman

complains, for example, that though his goats themselves are taxed,

he cannot bring their food into town from his garden without an

additional charge being paid!

With the superficial differences to be accounted for by this new state

of things, there still remains much more in Tunisia to remind one of

Morocco than in Algeria. What deeper distinctions there are result in

both countries from Turkish influence, and Turkish blood introduced in

the past, but even these do not go very deep. Beneath it all there are

the foundations of race and creed common to all, and the untouched

countryman of Tunisia is closely akin to his fellow of Morocco. Even

in the towns the underlying likeness is strong.

The old city of Tunis is wonderfully like that of Fez; the streets,

the shops, the paving, being identical; but in the former a

picturesque feature is sometimes introduced, stone columns forming

arcades in front of the shops, painted in spiral bands of green and

red, separated by a band of white. The various trades are grouped

there as further west, and the streets are named after them. The

Mellah, or Jewish Quarter, has lost its boundary, as at Tangier, and

the gates dividing the various wards have disappeared too. Hardly

anything remains of the city walls, new ones having arisen to enclose

the one European and two native suburbs. But under a modern arcade in

the main street, the Avenue de France, there is between the shops the

barred gate leading to a mosque behind, which does not look as if it

were often opened.

Tramways run round the line of the old walls, and it is strange to see

the natives jumping on and off without stopping the car, in the most

approved western style. There, as in the trains, European and African

sit side by side, though it is to be observed that as a rule, should

another seat be free, neither gets in where the other is. As for hopes

of encouraging any degree of amalgamation, these are vain indeed.

A mechanical mixture is all that can be hoped for: nothing more is

possible. A few French people have embraced Islám for worldly aims,

and it is popularly believed by the natives that in England thousands

are accepting Mohammed.

The mosques of Tunis are less numerous than those of Fez, but do

not differ greatly from them except in the inferior quality of the

tile-work, and in the greater use of stone for the arches and towers.

The latter are of the Moorish square shape, but some, if not all, are

ascended by steps, instead of by inclined planes. The mosques, with

the exception of that at Kaïrwán--the most holy, strange to say--are

as strictly forbidden to Europeans and Jews as in Morocco, and screens

are put up before the doors as in Tangier.

The Moors are very well known in Tunis, so many of them, passing

through from Mekka on the Hajj, have been prevented from getting

home by quarantine or lack of funds. Clad as a Moor myself, I was

everywhere recognized as from that country, and was treated with every

respect, being addressed as "Amm el Háj" ("Uncle Pilgrim"), having

my shoulders and hands kissed in orthodox fashion. There are several

_cafés_ where Morocco men are to be met with by the score. One feature

of this cosmopolitan city is that there are distinct _cafés_ for

almost every nation represented here except the English.

The Arabs of Morocco are looked upon as great thieves, but the

Sûsis have the highest reputation for honesty. Not only are all the

gate-keepers of the city from that distant province, but also those

of the most important stores and houses, as well as of the

railway-stations, and many are residents in the town. The chief

snake-charmers and story-tellers also hail from Sûs.

The veneration for Mulai Táïb of Wazzán, from whom the shareefs of

that place are descended, is great, and the Aïsáwa, hailing from

Mequinez, are to be met with all along this coast; they are especially

strong at Kaïrwán. In Tunis, as also in Algeria and Tripoli, the

comparative absence of any objection to having pictures taken of human

beings, which is an almost insurmountable hindrance in Morocco, again

allowed me to use my kodak frequently, but I found that the Jews had a

strong prejudice against portraits.

The points in which the domestic usages of Tunisia differ from those

of Morocco are the more striking on account of the remarkably minute

resemblance, if not absolute identity, of so very many others, and as

the novelty of the innovations wears off, it is hard to realize that

one is not still in the "Far West."

In a native household of which I found myself temporarily a member,

it was the wholesale assimilation of comparatively trivial foreign

matters which struck me. Thus, for instance, as one of the sons of

my host remarked--though he was dressed in a manner which to most

travellers would have appeared exclusively oriental--there was not a

thing upon him which was not French. Doubtless a closer examination of

his costume would have shown that some of the articles only reached

him through French hands, but the broad fact remained that they were

all foreign. It is in this way that the more civilized countries

show a strong and increasing tendency to develop into nations of

manufacturers, with their gigantic workshops forcing the more

backward, _nolens volens_, to relapse to the more primitive condition

of producers of raw material only.

There was, of course, a time when every garment such a man would have

worn would have been of native manufacture, without having been in

any feature less complete, less convenient, or less artistic than his

present dress. In many points, indeed, there is a distinct loss in the

more modern style, especially in the blending of colours, while it is

certain that in no point has improvement been made. My friend, for

instance, had the addition, common there, of a pair of striped merino

socks, thrust into a pair of rubber-soled tennis shoes. Underneath he

wore a second pair of socks, and said that in winter he added a third.

Above them was not much bare leg, for the pantaloons are cut there so

as often to reach right down to the ankles. This is necessitated by

the custom of raising the mattresses used for seats on divans, and

by sitting at table on European chairs with the legs dangling in

the cold. The turban has nothing of the gracefulness of its Moorish

counterpart, being often of a dirty-green silk twisted into a rope,

and then bound round the head in the most inelegant fashion, sometimes

showing the head between the coils; they are not folds. Heads are by

no means kept so carefully shaved as in Morocco, and I have seen hair

which looked as though only treated with scissors, and that rarely.

The fashion for all connected with the Government to wear European

dress, supplemented by the "Fez" (fortunately not the Turkish style),

brings about most absurd anomalies. This is especially observable in

the case of the many very stout individuals who waddle about like

ducks in their ungainly breeches. I was glad to find on visiting the

brother of the late Bey that he retained the correct costume, though

the younger members of his family and all his attendants were in

foreign guise. The Bey himself received me in the frock-coat with

pleated skirt, favoured by his countrymen the Turks.

[Illustration: _Albert, Photo., Tunis._

A TUNISIAN JEWESS IN STREET DRESS.]

The Mohammedan women seen in the streets generally wear an elegant

fine silk and wool haïk over a costume culminating in a peaked cap,

the face being covered--all but the eyes--by two black handkerchiefs,

awful to behold, like the mask of a stage villain. More stylish women

wear a larger veil, which they stretch out on either side in front

of them with their hands. They seem to think nothing of sitting in a

railway carriage opposite a man and chatting gaily with him. I learn

from an English lady resident in Tunis that the indoor costume of the

women is much that of the Jewesses out of doors--extraordinary indeed.

It is not every day that one meets ladies in the street in long white

drawers, often tight, and short jackets, black or white, but this is

the actual walking dress of the Jewish ladies of Tunis.

XXXIV

TRIPOLI VIEWED FROM MOROCCO

"Every sheep hangs by her own legs."

_Moorish Proverb._

When, after an absence of twenty months, I found myself in Tripoli,

although far enough from Morocco, I was still amid familiar sights and

sounds which made it hard to realize that I was not in some hitherto

unvisited town of that Empire. The petty differences sank to naught

amid the wonderful resemblances. It was the Turkish element alone

which was novel, and that seemed altogether out of place, foreign as

it is to Africa. There was something quite incongruous in the sight of

those ungainly figures in their badly fitting, quasi-European black

coats and breeches, crowned with tall and still more ungainly red

caps. The Turks are such an inferior race to the Berbers and Arabs

that it is no wonder that they are despised by the natives. They

appear much more out of place than do the Europeans, who remain, as

in Morocco, a class by themselves. To see a Turk side by side with a

white-robed native at prayer in a mosque is too ridiculous, and to see

him eating like a wild man of the woods! Even the governor, a benign

old gentleman, looked very undignified in his shabby European

surroundings, after the important appearance of the Moorish

functionaries in their flowing robes. The sentinels at the door seemed

to have been taught to imitate the wooden salute of the Germans, which

removes any particle of grace which might have remained in spite of

their clumsy dress. It is a strange sight to see them selling their

rations of uninviting bread in the market to buy something more

stimulating. They squat behind a sack on the ground as the old women

do in Tangier. These are the little things reminding one that Tripoli

is but a Turkish dependency.

We may complain of the Moorish customs arrangements, but from my own

experience, and from what others tell me, I should say that here is

worse still. Not only were our things carefully overhauled, but the

books had to be examined, as a result of which process Arabic works

are often confiscated, either going in or out. The confusing lack of

a monetary system equals anything even in southern Morocco, between

which and this place the poor despised "gursh" turns up as a familiar

link, not to be met with between Casablanca and Tripoli.

Perhaps the best idea of the town for those readers acquainted with

Morocco will be to call it a large edition of Casablanca. The country

round is flat, the streets are on the whole fairly regular, and wider

than the average in this part of the world. Indeed, carriages are

possible, though not throughout the town. A great many more flying

arches are thrown across the streets than we are accustomed to further

west, but upper storeys are rare. The paving is of the orthodox

Barbary style.

The Tripolitan mosques are of a very different style from those of

Morocco, the people belonging to a different sect--the Hánafis--Moors,

Algerines and Tunisians being of the more rigorous Málikis. Instead

of the open courtyard surrounded by a colonnade, here they have a

perfectly closed interior roofed with little domes, and lighted by

barred windows. The walls are adorned with inferior tiles, mostly

European, and the floors are carpeted. Round the walls hang cheap

glazed texts from the Korán, and there is a general appearance of

tawdry display which is disappointing after the chaste adornment of

the finer Moorish mosques, or even the rude simplicity of the poorer

ones. Orders may be obtained to view these buildings, of which it is

hardly necessary to say I availed myself, in one case ascending also

the minaret. These minarets are much less substantial than those

of Morocco, being octangular, with protruding stone balconies in

something of the Florentine style, reached by winding stairs. The

exteriors are whitewashed, the balconies being tiled, and the cupolas

painted green. Lamps are hung out at certain feasts. As for the voice

of the muédhdhin, it must be fairly faint, since during the week I

was there I never heard it. In Morocco this would have been an

impossibility.

The language, though differing in many minor details from that

employed in Morocco, presents no difficulty to conversation, but it

was sometimes necessary to try a second word to explain myself. The

differences are chiefly in the names of common things in daily use,

and in common adjectives. The music was identical with what we know in

the "Far West." Religious strictness is much less than in Morocco,

the use of intoxicants being fairly general in the town, the hours

of prayer less strictly kept, and the objection to portraits having

vanished. There seemed fewer women in the streets than in Morocco, but

those who did appear were for the most part less covered up; there

was nothing new in the way the native women were veiled, only one eye

being shown--I do not now take the foreign Turks into account.

In the streets the absence of the better-class natives is most

noticeable; one sees at once that Tripoli is not an aristocratic town

like Fez, Tetuan, or Rabat. The differences which exist between the

costumes observed and those of Morocco are almost entirely confined

to the upper classes. The poor and the country people would be

undistinguishable in a Moorish crowd. Among the townsfolk stockings

and European shoes are common, but there are no native slippers to

equal those of Morocco, and yellow ones are rare. I saw no natives

riding in the town; though in the country it must be more common.

The scarcity of four-footed beasts of burden is noticeable after the

crowded Moorish thoroughfares.

On the whole there is a great lack of the picturesque in the Tripoli

streets, and also of noise. The street cries are poor, being chiefly

those of vegetable hawkers, and one misses the striking figure of the

water-seller, with his tinkling bell and his cry.

The houses and shops are much like those of Morocco, so far as

exteriors go, and so are the interiors of houses occupied by

Europeans. The only native house to which I was able to gain access

was furnished in the worst possible mixture of European and native

styles to be found in many Jewish houses in Morocco, but from what I

gleaned from others this was no exception to the rule.

Unfortunately the number of grog-shops is unduly large, with all

their attendant evils. The wheeled vehicles being foreign, claim

no description, though the quaintness of the public ones is great.

Palmetto being unknown, the all-pervading halfah fibre takes its place

for baskets, ropes, etc. The public ovens are very numerous, and do

not differ greatly from the Moorish, except in being more open to the

street. The bread is much less tempting; baked in small round cakes,

varnished, made yellow with saffron, and sprinkled with gingelly seed.

Most of the beef going alive to Malta, mutton is the staple animal

food; vegetables are much the same as in Morocco.

The great drawback to Tripoli is its proximity to the desert, which,

after walking through a belt of palms on the land side of the

town--itself built on a peninsula--one may see rolling away to the

horizon. The gardens and palm groves are watered by a peculiar system,

the precious liquid being drawn up from the wells by ropes over

pulleys, in huge leather funnels of which the lower orifice is slung

on a level with the upper, thus forming a bag. The discharge is

ingeniously accomplished automatically by a second rope over a lower

pulley, the two being pulled by a bullock walking down an incline. The

lower lip being drawn over the lower pulley, releases the water when

the funnel reaches the top.

The weekly market, Sôk et-Thláthah, held on the sands, is much as it

would be in the Gharb el Jawáni, as Morocco is called in Tripoli. The

greater number of Blacks is only natural, especially when it is noted

that hard by they have a large settlement.

[Illustration: _Photograph by G. Michell, Esq._

OUTSIDE TRIPOLI.]

It would, of course, be possible to enter into a much more minute

comparison, but sufficient has been said to give a general idea of

Tripoli to those who know something of Morocco, without having entered

upon a general description of the place. From what I saw of the

country people, I have no doubt that further afield the similarity

between them and the people of central and southern Morocco, to whom

they are most akin, would even be increased.

XXXV

FOOT-PRINTS OF THE MOORS IN SPAIN

"Every one buries his mother as he likes."

_Moorish Proverb._

I. FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

Much as I had been prepared by the accounts of others to observe the

prevalence of Moorish remains in the Peninsula, I was still forcibly

struck at every turn by traces of their influence upon the country,

especially in what was their chief home there, Andalucia. Though

unconnected with these traces, an important item in strengthening this

impression is the remarkable similarity between the natural features

of the two countries. The general contour of the surface is the same

on either side of the straits for a couple of hundred miles; the

same broad plains, separated by low ranges of hills, and crossed by

sluggish, winding streams, fed from distant snow-capped mountains, and

subject to sudden floods. The very colours of the earth are the same

in several regions, the soil being of that peculiar red which gives

its name to the Blád Hamrá ("Red Country") near Marrákesh. This is

especially observable in the vicinity of Jeréz, and again at Granáda,

where one feels almost in Morocco again. Even the colour of the rugged

hills and rocks is the same, but more of the soil is cultivated than

in any save the grain districts of Morocco.

The vegetation is strikingly similar, the aloe and the prickly pear,

the olive and the myrtle abounding, while from the slight glimpses

I was able to obtain of the flora, the identity seems also to be

continued there. Yet all this, though interesting to the observer, is

not to be wondered at. It is our habit of considering the two lands as

if far apart, because belonging to separate continents, which leads us

to expect a difference between countries divided only by a narrow gap

of fourteen miles or less, but one from whose formation have resulted

most important factors in the world's history.

The first striking reminders of the Moorish dominion are the names of

Arabic origin. Some of the most noteworthy are Granáda (Gharnátah),

Alcazar (El Kasar), Arjona (R'honah), Gibraltar (Gibel Tárik),

Trafalgár (Tarf el Gharb, "West Point"), Medinah (Madînah, "Town"),

Algeciras (El Jazîrah, "The Island"), Guadalquivir (Wád el Kebeer--so

pronounced in Spain--"The Great River"), Mulahacen (Mulai el Hasan),

Alhama (El Hama, "The Hot Springs"), and numberless others which might

be mentioned, including almost every name beginning with "Al."

The rendering of these old Arabic words into Spanish presents a

curious proof of the changes which the pronunciation of the Spanish

alphabet has undergone during the last four centuries. To obtain

anything like the Arabic sound it is necessary to give the letters

precisely the same value as in English, with the exception of

pronouncing "x" as "sh." Thus the word "alhaja," in everyday

use--though unrecognizable as heard from the lips of the modern

Castilian, "aláha,"--is nothing but the Arabic "el hájah," with

practically the same meaning in the plural, "things" or "goods." To

cite more is unnecessary. The genuine pronunciation is still often

met with among Jews of Morocco who have come little in contact with

Spaniards, and retain the language of their ancestors when expelled

from the Peninsula, as also in Spanish America.

The Spanish language is saturated with corrupted Arabic, at all

events so far as nouns are concerned. The names of families also

are frequently of Arabic origin, as, for instance, Alarcos

(Er-Rakkás--"the courier"), Alhama, etc., most of which are to be met

with more in the country than in the towns, while very many others,

little suspected as such, are Jewish. Although when the most

remarkable of nations was persecuted and finally expelled from Spain,

a far larger proportion nobly sacrificed their all rather than accept

the bauble religion offered them by "The Catholic Kings" (King and

Queen), they also have left their mark, and many a noble family could,

if it would, trace its descent from the Jews. Some of their synagogues

are yet standing, notably at Toledo--whence the many Toledános,--built

by Samuel Levy, who was secretary to Don Pedro the Cruel. This was in

1336, a century and a half before the Moors were even conquered, much

less expelled, and if the sons of Ishmael have left their mark

upon that sunny land, so have the sons of Israel, though in a

far different manner. Morocco has ever since been the home of the

descendants of a large proportion of the exiles.

The Spanish physiognomy, not so much of the lower as of the upper

classes, is strikingly similar to that of the mountaineers of Morocco,

and these include some of the finest specimens. The Moors of to-day

are of too mingled a descent to present any one distinct type of

countenance, and it is the same with the Spaniards. So much of the

blood of each flows in the veins of the other, that comparison is

rendered more difficult. It is a well-known fact that several of the

most ancient families in the kingdom can trace their descent from

Mohammedans. A leading instance of this is the house of Mondéjar,

lords of Granáda from the time of its conquest, as the then head of

the house, Sidi Yahia, otherwise Don Pedro de Granáda, had become a

Christian. In the Generalife at that town, still in the custody of the

same family, is a genealogical tree tracing its origin right back to

the Goths![26]

[26: Andalucia is but a corruption of Vandalucia.]

Next to physiognomy come habits and customs, and of these there are

many which have been borrowed, or rather retained, from the Moors,

especially in the country. The ploughs, the water-mills, the

water-wheels, the irrigation, the treading out of the corn, the

weaving of coarse cloth, and many other daily sights, from their

almost complete similarity, remind one of Morocco. The bread-shops

they call "tahônas," unaware that this is the Arabic for a flour-mill;

their water-wheels they still call by their Arabic name, "naôrahs,"

and it is the same with their pack-saddles, "albardas" (bardah). The

list might be extended indefinitely, even from such common names as

these.

The salutations of the people seem literal translations of those

imported from the Orient, such as I am not aware of among other

Europeans. What, for instance, is "Dios guarda Vd." ("God keep you"),

said at parting, but the "Allah îhannak" of Morocco, or "se lo passe

bien," but "B'is-salámah" ("in peace!"). More might be cited, but to

those unacquainted with Arabic they would be of little interest.

Then, again, the singing of the country-folk in southern Spain has

little to distinguish it from that indulged in by most Orientals.

The same sing-song drawl with numerous variations is noticeable

throughout. Once a more civilized tune gets among these people for

a few months, its very composer would be unlikely to recognize its

prolongations and lazy twists.

The narrow, tortuous streets of the old towns once occupied by the

invaders take one back across the straits, and the whole country

is covered with spots which, apart from any remains of note, are

associated by record or legend with anecdotes from that page of

Spanish history. Here it is the "Sigh of the Moor," the spot from

which the last Ameer of Andalucia gazed in sorrow on the capital that

he had lost; there it is a cave (at Criptana) where the Moors found

refuge when their power in Castile was broken; elsewhere are the

chains (in Toledo) with which the devotees of Islám chained their

Christian captives.

In addition to this, the hills of a great part of Spain are dotted

with fortresses of "tabia" (rammed earth concrete) precisely such as

are occupied still by the country kaïds of Morocco; and by the wayside

are traces of the skill exercised in bringing water underground from

the hills beyond Marrákesh. How many church towers in Spain were

built for the call of the muédhdhin, and how many houses had their

foundations laid for hareems! In the south especially such are

conspicuous from their design. To crown all stand the palaces and

mosques of Córdova, Sevílle, and Granáda, not to mention minor

specimens.

When we talk of the Moors in Spain, we often forget how nearly we were

enabled to speak also of the Moors in France. Their brave attempts to

pass that natural barrier, the Pyrenees, find a suitable monument

in the perpetual independence of the wee republic of Andorra, whose

inhabitants so successfully stemmed the tide of invasion. The story of

Charles Martel, too, the "Hammer" who broke the Muslim power in that

direction, is one of the most important in the history of Europe.

What if the people who were already levying taxes in the districts of

Narbonne and Nîmes had found as easy a victory over the vineyards of

southern France, as they had over those of Spain? Where would they

have stopped? Would they ever have been driven out, or would St.

Paul's have been a second Kûtûbîya, and Westminster a Karûeeïn? God

knows!

II. CÓRDOVA

The earliest notable monument of Moorish dominion in Andalucia

still existing is the famous mosque of Córdova, now deformed into a

cathedral. Its erection occupied the period from 786 to 796 of the

Christian era, and it is said that it stands on the site of a Gothic

church erected on the ruins of a still earlier temple dedicated

to Janus. Portions, however, have been added since that date, as

inscriptions on the walls record, and the European additions date from

1521, when, notwithstanding the protests of the people of Córdova,

the bishops obtained permission from Charles V. to rear the present

quasi-Gothic structure in its central court. The disgust and anger

which the lover of Moorish architecture--or art of any sort--feels

for the name of "_Carlos quinto_," as at point after point hideous

additions to the Moorish remains are ascribed to that conceited

monarch, are somewhat tempered for once by the record that even he

repented when he saw the result of his permission in this instance.

"You have built here," he said, "what you might have built anywhere,

and in doing so you have spoiled what was unique in the world!" In

each of the three great centres of Moorish rule, Sevílle, Granáda and

Córdova, the same hand is responsible for outrageous modern erections

in the midst of hoary monuments of eastern art, carefully inscribed

with their author's name, as "Cæsar the Emperor, Charles the Fifth."

The Córdova Mosque, antedated only by those of Old Cairo and Kaïrwán,

is a forest of marble pillars, with a fine court to the west,

surrounded by an arcade, and planted with orange trees and palms,

interspersed with fountains. Nothing in Morocco can compare with it

save the Karûeeïn mosque at Fez, built a century later, but that

building is too low, and the pillars are for the most part mere brick

erections, too short to afford the elegance which here delights. This

is grand in its simplicity; nineteen aisles of slightly tapering

columns of beautiful marbles, jasper or porphyry, about nine feet in

height, supporting long vistas of flying horse-shoe arches, of which

the stones are now coloured alternately yellow and red, though

probably intended to be all pure white. Other still more elegant

scolloped arches, exquisitely decorated by carving the plaster, spring

between alternate pillars, and from arch to arch, presumably more

modern work.

The aisles are rather over twenty feet in width, and the thirty-three

cross vaultings about half as much, while the height of the roof is

from thirty to forty feet. In all, the pillars number about 500,

though frequently stated to total 850 out of an original 1419, but it

is difficult to say where all these can be, since the sum of 33 by 19

is only 627, and a deduction has to be made for the central court,

in which stands the church or choir. Since these notes were

first published, in 1890, I have seen it disputed between modern

impressionist writers which of them first described the wonderful

scene as a palm grove, a comparison of which I had never heard when

I wrote, but the wonder to me would be if any one could attempt to

picture the scene without making use of it.

Who but a nation of nomads, accustomed to obey the call to prayer

beneath the waving branches of African and Arabian palm-groves, would

have dreamed of raising such a House of God? Unless for the purpose of

supporting a wide and solid roof, or of dividing the centre into the

form of a cross, what other ecclesiastical architects would have

conceived the idea of filling a place of worship with pillars or

columns? No one who has walked in a palm-grove can fail to be struck

by the resemblance to it of this remarkable mosque. The very tufted

heads with their out-curving leaves are here reproduced in the

interlacing arches, and with the light originally admitted by the

central court and the great doors, the present somewhat gloomy area

would have been bright and pleasant as a real grove, with its bubbling

fountains, and the soothing sound of trickling streams. I take the

present skylights to be of modern construction, as I never saw such a

device in a Moorish building.

Most of the marble columns are the remains of earlier erections,

chiefly Roman, like the bridge over the Guadalquivir close by,

restored by the builder of the mosque. Some, indeed, came from

Constantinople, and others were brought from the south of France. They

are neither uniform in height nor girth--some having been pieced at

the bottom, and others partly buried;--so also with the capitals,

certain of which are evidently from the same source as the pillars,

while the remainder are but rude imitations, mostly Corinthian in

style. The original expenses of the building were furnished by a fifth

of the booty taken from the Spaniards, with the subsidies raised in

Catalonia and Narbonne. The Moors supplied voluntary, and European

captives forced labour.

[Illustration: A SHRINE IN CORDOVA MOSQUE.]

On Fridays, when the Faithful met in thousands for the noon-day

prayer, what a sight and what a melody! The deep, rich tones of the

organ may add impressiveness to a service of worship, but there is

nothing in the world so grand, so awe-inspiring as the human voice.

When a vast body of males repeats the formulæ of praise, together, but

just slightly out of time, the effect once heard is never forgotten. I

have heard it often, and as I walk these aisles I hear it ringing in

my ears, and can picture to myself a close-packed row of white-robed

figures between each pillar, and rows from end to end between, all

standing, stooping, or forehead on earth, as they follow the motions

of the leader before them. A grand sight it is, whatever may be one's

opinion of their religion. In the manner they sit on the matted floors

of their mosques there would be room here for thirteen thousand

without using the Orange Court, and there is little doubt that on days

when the Court attended it used to be filled to its utmost.

To the south end of the cathedral the floor of two wide aisles is

raised on arches, exactly opposite the niche which marks the direction

of Mekka, and the space above is more richly decorated than any other

portion of the edifice except the niche itself. This doubtless formed

the spot reserved for the Ameer and his Court, screened off on three

sides to prevent the curiosity of the worshippers overcoming their

devotion, as is still arranged in the mosques which the Sultan of

Morocco attends in his capitals. Until a few years ago this rich work

in arabesque and tiles was hidden by plaster.

The kiblah niche is a gem of its kind. It consists of a horse-shoe

arch, the face of which is ornamented with gilded glass mosaic,

forming the entrance to a semi-circular recess beautifully adorned

with arabesques and inscriptions, the top of the dome being a large

white marble slab hollowed out in the form of a pecten shell. The wall

over the entrance is covered with texts from the Korán, forming an

elegant design, and on either side are niches of lesser merit, but

serving to set off the central one which formed the kiblah. Eleven

centuries have elapsed since the hands of the workmen left it, and

still it stands a witness of the pitch of art attained by the Berbers

in Spain.

It is said that here was deposited a copy of the Korán written by

Othmán himself, and stained with his blood, of such a size that two

men could hardly lift it. When, for a brief period, the town fell into

the hands of Alfonso VII., his soldiers used the mosque as a stable,

and tore up this valuable manuscript. When a Moorish Embassy was sent

to Madrid some years ago, the members paid a visit to this relic of

the greatness of their forefathers, and to the astonishment of the

custodians, having returned to the court-yard to perform the required

ablutions, re-entered, slippers in hand, to go through the acts

of worship as naturally as if at home. What a strange sight for a

Christian cathedral! Right in front of the niche is a plain marble

tomb with no sign but a plain bar dexter. Evidently supposing this to

be the resting-place of some saint of their own persuasion, they made

the customary number of revolutions around it. It would be interesting

to learn from their lips what their impressions were.

Of the tower which once added to the imposing appearance of the

building, it is recorded that it had no rival in height known to the

builders. It was of stone, and, like one still standing in Baghdád

from the days of Harûn el Rasheed, had two ways to the top, winding

one above the other, so that those who ascended by the one never met

those descending by the other. According to custom it was crowned

by three gilded balls, and it had fourteen windows. This was of

considerably later date than the mosque itself, but has long been a

thing of the past.

The European additions to the Córdova mosque are the choir, high

altar, etc., which by themselves would make a fine church, occupying

what must have been originally a charming court, paved with white

marble and enlivened by fountains; the tower, built over the main

entrance, opening into the Court of Oranges; and a score or two of

shrines with iron railings in front round the sides, containing

altars, images, and other fantastic baubles to awe the ignorant. An

inscription in the tower records that it was nearly destroyed by

the earth-quake of 1755, and though it is the least objectionable

addition, it is a pity that it did not fall on that or some subsequent

occasion. It was raised on the ruins of its Moorish predecessor in

1593. The chief entrance, like that of Sevílle, is a curious attempt

to blend Roman architecture with Mauresque, having been restored in

1377, but the result is not bad. Recent "restorations" are observable

in some parts of the mosque, hideous with colour, but a few of the

original beams are still visible. I am inclined to consider the

greater part of the roof modern, but could not inspect it closely

enough to be certain. Though vaulted inside, it is tiled in ridges in

the usual Moorish style, but very few green tiles are to be seen.

From the tower the view reminds one strongly of Morocco. The hills to

the north and south, with the river winding close to the town across

the fertile plain, give the scene a striking resemblance to that from

the tower of the Spanish consulate at Tetuan. All around are the still

tortuous streets of a Moorish town, though the roofs of the houses

are tiled in ridges of Moorish pattern, as those of Tangier were when

occupied by the English two hundred years ago, and as those of El

K'sar are now.

The otherwise Moorish-looking building at one's feet is marred by the

unsightly erection in the centre, and its court-yard seems to have

degenerated into a play-ground, where the neighbours saunter or fill

pitchers from the fountains.

After enduring the apparently unceasing din of the bells in those

erstwhile stations of the muédhdhin, one ceases to wonder that the

lazy Moors have such a detestation for them, and make use instead of

the stirring tones of the human voice. Rest and quiet seem impossible

in their vicinity, for their jarring is simply head-splitting. And as

if they were not excruciating enough, during "Holy Week" they conspire

against the ear-drums of their victims by revolving a sort of infernal

machine made of wood in the form of a hollow cross, with four swinging

hammers on each arm which strike against iron plates as the thing goes

round. The keeper's remark that the noise was awful was superfluous.

The history of the town of Córdova has been as chequered as that of

most Andalucian cities. Its foundation is shrouded in obscurity. The

Romans and Vandals had in turn been its masters before the Moors

wrested it from the Spaniards in the year 710 A.D. Though the

Spaniards regained possession of it in 1075, it was not for long, as

it soon fell into the hands of the invaders once more. The Spanish

victors only left a Moorish viceroy in charge, who proved too true a

Berber to serve against his countrymen, so he betrayed his trust. In

1236 it was finally recovered by the Spaniards, after five hundred and

twenty-four years of Moorish rule. Since that time the traces of that

epoch of its history have been gradually disappearing, till there only

remain the mutilated mosque, and portions of the ancient palace, or of

saint-houses (as the side-chapel of the Church of St. Miguel), and of

a few dwellings. Since the first train steamed to this ancient city,

in 1859, the railway has probably brought as many pilgrims to the

mosque as ever visited it from other motives in its greatest days.

The industry founded here by the Moors--that of tanning--which has

given its name to a trade in several countries,[27] seems to have gone

with them to Morocco, for though many of the old tan-pits still exist

by the river side, no leather of any repute is now produced here. The

Moorish water-mills are yet at work though, having been repaired and

renewed on the original model. These, as at Granáda and other places,

are horizontal wheels worked from a small spout above, directly under

the mill-stone, such as is met with in Fez and Tetuan.

[27: Sp. _cordován_, Fr. _cordonnier_, Eng. _cordwainer_, etc.]

III. SEVÍLLE

In the Girálda tower of Sevílle I expected to find a veritable

Moorish trophy in the best state of preservation, open to that minute

inspection which was impossible in the only complete specimen of such

a tower, the Kutûbîya, part of a mosque still in use. Imagine, then,

my regret on arriving at the foot of that venerable monument, to find

it "spick and span," as if just completed, looking new and tawdry

by the side of the cathedral which has replaced the mosque it once

adorned. Instead of the hoary antiquity to which the rich deep colour

of the stone of the sister towers in Morocco bears witness in their

weather-beaten glory, this one, built, above the first few stone

courses, of inch pan-tiles, separated by a like thickness of mortar,

has the appearance of having been newly pointed and rubbed down, while

faded frescoes on the walls testify to the barbarity of the conquerors

of the "barbarians."

The delicate tracery in hewn stone which adds so greatly to the beauty

of the Morocco and Tlemçen examples, is almost entirely lacking, while

the once tasteful horse-shoe windows are now pricked out in red and

yellow, with a hideous modern balcony of white stone before each. The

quasi-Moorish belfry is the most pardonable addition, but to crown

all is an exhibition of incongruity which has no excuse. The original

tile-faced turret of the Moors, with its gilded balls, has actually

been replaced by a structure of several storeys, the first of which

is Doric, the second Ionic, and the third Corinthian. Imagine this

crowning the comely severity of the solid Moorish structure without a

projecting ornament! But this is not all. Swinging in gaunt uneasiness

over the whole, stands a huge revolving statue, supposed to represent

Faith, holding out in one hand a shield which catches the wind, and

causes it to act as a weather-vane.

Such is the Girálda of the twentieth century, and the guide-books are

full of praises for the restorer, who doubtless deserves great credit

for his skill in repairing the tower after it had suffered severely

from lightning, but who might have done more towards restoring the

original design, at all events in the original portion. We read in

"Raôd el Kártás" that the mosque was finished and the tower commenced

in 1197, during the reign of Mulai Yakûb el Mansûr, who commenced its

sisters at Marrákesh and Rabat in the same year. One architect is

recorded to have designed all three--indeed, they have little uncommon

in their design, and have been once almost alike. Some assert that

this man was a Christian, but there is nothing in the style of

building to favour such a supposition.

The plan is that of all the mosque towers of Morocco, and the only

tower of a mosque in actual use which I have ascended in that

country--one at Mogador--was just a miniature of this. It is,

therefore, in little else than point of size that these three are

remarkable. The similarity between these and the recently fallen tower

of St. Mark's at Venice is most striking, both in design and in the

method of ascent by an inclined plane; while around the Italian lakes

are to be seen others of less size, but strongly resembling these.

All three are square, and consist of six to eight storeys in the

centre, with thick walls and vaulted roof, surrounded by an inclined

plane from base to summit, at an angle which makes it easy walking,

and horses have been ridden up. The unfinished Hassan Tower at Rabat

having at one time become a place of evil resort, the reigning ameer

ordered the way up to be destroyed, but it was found so hard that only

the first round was cut away, and the door bricked up. Each ramp of

the Girálda, if I remember rightly, has its window, but in the Hassan

many are without light, though at least every alternate one has a

window, some of these being placed at the corner to serve for two,

while here they are always in the centre. The Girálda proper contains

seven of these storeys, with thirty-five ramps. To the top of the

eighth storey, which is the first addition, dating from the sixteenth

century, now used as a belfry, the height is about 220 feet. The

present total height is a little over 300 feet.

The original turret of the Girálda, similar to that at Marrákesh, was

destroyed in 1396 by a hurricane. The additions were finished in

1598. An old view, still in existence, and dating from the

thirteenth century, shows it in its pristine glory, and there is

another--Moorish--as old as the tower itself.

After all that I had read and heard of the palace at Sevílle, I was

more disappointed than even in the case of the Girálda. Not only does

it present nothing imposing in the way of Moorish architecture, but it

has evidently been so much altered by subsequent occupants as to have

lost much of its original charm. To begin with the outside, instead

of wearing the fine crumbling appearance of the palaces of Morocco or

Granáda, this also had been all newly plastered till it looks like a

work of yesterday, and coloured a not unbecoming red. Even the main

entrance has a Gothic inscription half way up, and though its general

aspect is that of Moorish work, on a closer inspection, the lower part

at least is seen to be an imitation, as in many ways the unwritten

laws of that style have been widely departed from. The Gothic

inscription states that Don Pedro I. built it in 1364.

Inside, the general ground plan remains much as built, but connecting

doorways have been opened where Moors never put them, and with the

exception of the big raised tank in the corner, there is nothing

African about the garden. Even the plan has been in places destroyed

to obtain rooms of a more suitable width for the conveniences of

European life. The property is a portion of the Royal patrimony, and

is from time to time occupied by the reigning sovereign when visiting

Sevílle. A marble tablet in one of these rooms tells of a queen having

been born there during the last century.

Much of the ornamentation on the walls is of course original, as well

as some of the ceilings and doors, but the "restorations" effected at

various epochs have greatly altered the face of things. Gaudy colours

show up both walls and ceilings, but at the same time greatly detract

from their value, besides which there are coarse imitations of the

genuine tile-work, made in squares, with lines in relief to represent

the joints, as well as patterns painted on the plaster to fill up

gaps in the designs. Then, too, the most prominent parts of the

ornamentation have been disfigured by the interposition of Spanish

shields and coats-of-arms on tiles. The border round the top of the

dado is alternated with these all the way round some of the rooms.

To crown all, certain of the fine old doors, resembling a wooden

patchwork, have been "restored" with plaster-of-Paris. Some of the

arabesques which now figure on these walls were actually pillaged from

the Alhambra.

Many of the Arabic inscriptions have been pieced so as to render them

illegible, and some have been replaced upside down, while others

tell their own tale, for they ascribe glory and might to a Spanish

sovereign, Don Pedro the Cruel, instead of to a "Leader of the

Faithful." A reference to the history of the country tells us that

this ruler "reconstructed" the palace of the Moors, while later it was

repaired by Don Juan II., before Ferdinand and Isabella built their

oratories within its precincts, or Charles V., with his mania for

"improving" these monuments of a foreign dominion, doubled it in

size. For six centuries this work, literally of spoliation, has been

proceeding in the hands of successive owners; what other result than

that arrived at, could be hoped for?

When this is realized, the greater portion of the historic value of

this palace vanishes, and its original character as a Moorish palace

is seen to have almost disappeared. There still, however, remains the

indisputable fact, apparent from what does remain of the work of its

builders, that it was always a work of art and a trophy of the skill

of its designers, those who have interfered with it subsequently

having far from improved it.

According to Arab historians, the foundations of this palace were laid

in 1171 A.D. and it was reconstructed between 1353 and 1364. In 1762

a fire did considerable damage, which was not repaired till 1805. The

inscriptions are of no great historical interest. "Wa lá ghálib ílá

Allah"--"there is none victorious but God"--abounds here, as at

the Alhambra, and there are some very neat specimens of the Kufic

character.

Of Moorish Sevílle, apart from the Girálda and the Palace--El Kasar,

corrupted into Alcazar--the only remains of importance are the Torre

del Oro--Borj ed-Daheb--built in 1220 at the riverside, close to where

the Moors had their bridge of boats, and the towers of the churches

of SS. Marcos and Marina. Others there are, built in imitation of the

older erections, often by Moorish architects, as those of the churches

of Omnium Sanctorum, San Nicolas, Ermita de la Virgen, and Santa

Catalina. Many private houses contain arches, pillars, and other

portions of Moorish buildings which have preceded them, such as are

also to be found in almost every town of southern Spain. As late as

1565 the town had thirteen gates more or less of Moorish origin, but

these have all long since disappeared.

Sevílle was one of the first cities to surrender to the Moors after

the battle of Guadalete, A.D. 711, and remained in their hands till

taken by St. Ferdinand after fifteen months' siege in 1248, six years

after its inhabitants had thrown off their allegiance to the Emperor

of Morocco, and formed themselves into a sort of republic, and ten

years after the Moorish Kingdom of Granáda was founded. It then became

the capital of Spain till Charles V. removed the Court to Valladolid.

IV. GRANÁDA

"O Palace Red! From distant lands I have come to see thee, believing

thee to be a garden in spring, but I have found thee as a tree in

autumn. I thought to see thee with my heart full of joy, but instead

my eyes have filled with tears."

So wrote in the visitors' album of the Alhambra, in 1876, an Arab poet

in his native tongue, and another inscription in the same volume,

written by a Moor some years before, remarks, "Peace be on thee, O

Granáda! We have seen thee and admired thee, and have said, 'Praised

be he who constructed thee, and may they who destroyed thee receive

mercy.'"

As the sentiments of members of the race of its builders, these

expressions are especially interesting; but they can hardly fail to

be shared to some extent by visitors from eastern lands, of whatever

nationality. Although the loveliest monument of Moorish art in Spain,

and a specimen of their highest architectural skill, destructions,

mutilations, and restorations have wrought so much damage to it that

it now stands, indeed, "as a tree in autumn." It was not those

who conquered the Moors on whom mercy was implored by the writer

quoted--for they, Ferdinand and Isabella, did their best to preserve

their trophy--but on such of their successors as Charles V., who

actually planted a still unfinished palace right among the buildings

of this venerable spot, adjoining the remains of the Alhambra, part of

which it has doubtless replaced.

This unartistic Austrian styled these remains "the ugly abominations

of the Moors," and forthwith proceeded to erect really ugly

structures. But the most unpardonable destroyers of all that the Moors

left beautiful were, perhaps, the French, who in 1810 entered Granáda

with hardly a blow, and under Sebastian practically desolated the

palace. They turned it into barracks and storehouses, as inscriptions

on its walls still testify--notably on the sills of the "Miranda de

la Reina." Ere they left in 1812, they even went so far as to blow

up eight of the towers, the remainder only escaping through the

negligence of an employee, and the fuses were put out by an old

Spanish soldier.

The Spaniards having thus regained possession, the commissioners

appointed to look after it "sold everything for themselves, and then,

like good patriots, reported that the invaders had left nothing."

After a brief respite in the care of an old woman, who exhibited more

sense in the matter than all the generals who had perpetrated such

outrages upon it, the Alhambra was again desecrated by a new Governor,

who used it as a store of salt fish for the galley slaves.

While the old woman--Washington Irving's "Tia Antonia"--was in

possession, that famous writer did more than any one to restore the

ancient fame of the palace by coming to stay there, and writing

his well-known account of his visit. Mr. Forde, and his friend Mr.

Addington, the British Ambassador, helped to remind people of its

existence, and saved what was left. Subsequent civil wars have,

however, afforded fresh opportunities of injury to its hoary walls,

and to-day it stands a mere wreck of what it once was.

The name by which these buildings are now known is but the adjective

by which the Arabs described it, "El Hamra," meaning "The Red,"

because of its colour outside. When occupied it was known only as

either "The Palace of Granáda," or "The Red Palace." The colour of the

earth here is precisely that of the plains of Dukála and Marrákesh,

and the buildings, being all constructed of tabia, are naturally of

that colour. In no part of Spain could one so readily imagine one's

self in Morocco; indeed, it is hard to realize that one is not there

till the new European streets are reached. In the palace grounds,

apart from the fine carriage-drive, with its seats and lamp-posts,

when out of sight of the big hotels and other modern erections, the

delusion is complete. Even in the town the running water and the

wayside fountains take one back to Fez; and the channels underneath

the pavements with their plugs at intervals are only Moorish ones

repaired. On walking the crooked streets of the part which formed the

town of four centuries ago, on every hand the names are Moorish. Here

is the Kaisarîya, restored after a fire in 1843; there is the street

of the grain fandaks, and beyond is a hammám, now a dwelling-house.

The site of the chief mosque is now the cathedral, in the chief chapel

of which are buried the conquerors of Granáda. There lie Ferdinand

and Isabella in plain iron-bound leaden coffins--far from the least

interesting sights of the place--in a spot full of memories of that

contest which they considered the event of their lives, and which was

indeed of such vital importance to the country. The inscription on

their marble tomb in the church above tells how that the Moors having

been conquered and heresy stamped out (?), that worthy couple took

their rest. The very atmosphere of the place seems charged with

reminiscences of the Moors and their successful foes, and here the

spirits of Prescott and Gayangos, the historians, seem to linger

still.

On either side of the high altar are extremely interesting painted

carvings. On one is figured the delivering up of the Alhambra.

Ferdinand, Isabella and Mendoza ride in a line, and the latter

receives the key in his gloved hand as the conquered king offers him

the ring end, followed by a long row of captives. Behind the victors

ride their knights and dames. On the other the Moors and Mooresses are

seen being christened wholesale by the monks, their dresses being in

some respects remarkably correct in detail, but with glaring defects

in others, just what might be expected from one whose acquaintance

with them was recent but brief.

Before these carvings kneel real likenesses of the royal couple

in wood, and on the massive square tomb in front they repose in

alabaster. A fellow-tomb by their side has been raised to the memory

of their immediate successors. In the sacristry are to be seen the

very robes of Cardinal Mendoza, and his missal, with the sceptre and

jewel-case of Isabella, and the sword of Ferdinand, while that of

the conquered Bû Abd Allah is on view elsewhere. Here, too, are the

standards unfurled on the day of the recapture, January 2, 1492, and

a picture full of interest, recording the adieux of "Boabdil" and

Ferdinand, who, after their bitter contest, have shaken hands and are

here falling on each other's necks.

As a model of Moorish art, the palace of Granáda, commenced in 1248,

is a monument of its latest and most refined period. The heavy and

comparatively simple styles of Córdova and Sevílle are here amplified

and refined, the result being the acme of elegance and oriental taste.

This I say from personal acquaintance with the temples of the far

East, although those present a much more gorgeous appearance, and are

much more costly erections, evincing a degree of architectural ability

and the possession of hoards of wealth beside which what the builders

of the Alhambra could boast of was insignificant; nor do I attempt to

compare these interesting relics with the equally familiar immensity

of ancient masonry, or with the magnificent work of the Middle Ages

still existing in Europe. These monuments hold a place of their own,

unique and unassailable. They are the mementoes of an era in the

history of Europe, not only of the Peninsula, and the interest which

attaches itself to them even on this score alone is very great. As

relics on a foreign soil, they have stood the storms of five centuries

under the most trying circumstances, and the simplicity of their

components lends an additional charm to the fabric. They are to

a great extent composed of what are apparently the weakest

materials--mud, gypsum, and wood; the marble and tiles are but

adornments.

From without the appearance of the palace has been well described as

that of "reddish cork models rising out of a girdle of trees." On

a closer inspection the "cork" appears like red sandstone, and one

wonders how it has stood even one good storm. There is none of that

facing of stone which gives most other styles of architecture an

appearance of durability, and whatever facing of plaster it may

once have possessed has long since disappeared. But inside all is

different. Instead of crumbling red walls, the courts and apartments

are highly ornamented with what we now call plaster-of-Paris, but

which the Moors have long prepared by roasting the gypsum in rude

kilns, calling it "gibs."

A full description of each room or court-yard would better become a

guide-book, and to those who have the opportunity of visiting the

spot, I would recommend Ford's incomparable "Handbook to Spain,"

published by Murray, the older the edition the better. To those who

can read Spanish, the "Estudio descriptivo de los Monumentos arabes,"

by the late Sr. Contreras (Government restorer of the Moorish remains

in Spain), to be obtained in Granáda, is well worth reading.

Such information as a visitor would need to correct the mistaken

impressions of these and other writers ignorant of Moorish usages as

to the original purpose of the various apartments, I have embodied in

Macmillan's "Guide to the Western Mediterranean."

Certain points, however, either for their architectural merit or

historic interest, cannot be passed over. Such is the Court of the

Lions, of part of which a model disfigured by garish painting may be

seen at the Crystal Palace. In some points it is resembled by the

chief court of the mosque of the Karûeeïn at Fez. In the centre is

that strange departure from the injunctions of the Korán which has

given its name to the spot, the alabaster fountain resting on the

loins of twelve beasts, called, by courtesy, "lions." They remind one

rather of cats. "Their faces barbecued, and their manes cut like the

scales of a griffin, and the legs like bed-posts; a water-pipe stuck

in their mouths does not add to their dignity." In the inscription

round the basin above, among flowery phrases belauding the fountain,

and suggesting that the work is so fine that it is difficult to

distinguish the water from the alabaster, the spectator is comforted

with the assurance that they cannot bite!

The court is surrounded by the usual tiled verandah, supported by one

hundred and twenty-two light and elegant white marble pillars, the

arches between which show some eleven different forms. At each end is

a portico jutting out from the verandahs, and four cupolas add to the

appearance of the roofs. The length of the court is twice its width,

which is sixty feet, and on each side lies a beautiful decorated

apartment with the unusual additions of jets of water from the floor

in the centre of each, as also before each of the three doors apiece

of the long narrow Moorish rooms, and under the two porticoes. The

overflows, instead of being hidden pipes, are channels in the marble

pavement, for the Moors were too great lovers of rippling water to

lose the opportunity as we cold-blooded northerners would.

To fully realize the delights of such a place one must imagine it

carpeted with the products of Rabat, surrounded by soft mattresses

piled with cushions, and with its walls hung with a dado of

dark-coloured felt cloths of various colours, interworked to represent

pillars and arches such as surround the gallery, and showing up the

beautiful white of the marble by contrast. Thus furnished--in true

Moorish style--the place should be visited on a hot summer's day,

after a wearisome toil up the hill from the town. Then, lolling among

the cushions, and listening to the splashing water, if strong sympathy

is not felt with the builders of the palace, who thought it a

paradise, the visitor ought never to have left his armchair by the

fire-side at home.

If, instead of wasting money on re-plastering the walls until they

look ready for papering, and then scratching geometrical designs upon

them in a style no Moor ever dreamed of, the Spanish Government would

entrust a Moor of taste to decorate it in his own native style,

without the modern European additions, they would do far better and

spend less. One step further, and the introduction of Moorish guides

and caretakers who spoke Spanish--easy to obtain--would add fifty

per cent. to the interest of the place. Then fancy the Christian and

Muslim knights meeting in single combat on the plains beneath those

walls. People once more the knolls and pastures with the turban and

the helm, fill in the colours of robe and plume; oh, what a picture it

would make!

Doubtless similar apartments for the hareem exist in the recesses of

the palaces of Fez, Mequinez, Marrákesh and Rabat. Some very fine work

is to be seen in the comparatively public parts, in many respects

equalling this, and certainly better than that of the palace of

Sevílle. Various alterations and "restorations" have been effected

from time to time in this as in other parts of the palace, notably in

the fountain, the top part of which is modern. It is probable that

originally there was only one basin, resting immediately on the

"lions" below. Its date is given as 1477 A.D.

The room known for disputed reasons as the Hall of the Two Sisters was

originally a bedroom. The entrance is one of the most elaborate in the

palace, and its wooden ceiling, pieced to resemble stalactites, is a

charming piece of work, as also are those of the other important rooms

of the palace.

Another apartment opening out of the Court of Lions, known as the Hall

of Justice--most likely in error--contains one of the most curious

remains in the palace, another departure from the precepts of the

religion professed by its builders. This is no less than a series of

pictures painted on skins sewn together, glued and fastened to the

wooden dome with tinned tacks, and covered with a fine coating of

gypsum, the gilt parts being in relief. Though the date of their

execution must have been in the fourteenth century, the colours are

still clear and fresh. The picture in the centre of the three domes is

supposed by some to represent ten Moorish kings of Granáda, though it

is more likely meant for ten wise men in council. On the other two

ceilings are pictures, one of a lady holding a chained lion, on the

point of being delivered from a man in skins by a European, who is

afterwards slain by a mounted Moor. The other is of a boar-hunt and

people drinking at a fountain, with a man up a tree in a dress which

looks remarkably like that of the eighteenth century in England, wig

and all. This work must have been that of some Christian renegade,

though considerable discussion has taken place over the authorship.

It is most likely that the lions are of similar origin, sculptured by

some one who had but a remote idea of the king of the forest.

After the group of apartments surrounding the Court of the Lions, the

most valuable specimen of Moorish architecture is that known as the

Hall of the Ambassadors, probably once devoted to official interviews,

as its name denotes. This is the largest room in the palace, occupying

the upper floor in one of the massive towers which defended the

citadel, overlooking the Vega and the remains of the camp-town

of Santa Fé, built during the siege by the "Catholic Kings." The

thickness of its walls is therefore immense, and the windows look like

little tunnels; under it are dungeons. The hall is thirty-seven feet

square, and no less than seventy-five feet high in the centre of the

roof, which is not the original one. Some of the finest stucco wall

decoration in the place is to be seen here, with elegant Arabic

inscriptions, in the ancient style of ornamental writing known as

Kufic, most of the instances of the latter meaning, "O God, to Thee be

endless praise, and thanks ascending." Over the windows are lines in

cursive Arabic, ascribing victory and glory to the "leader of the

resigned, our lord the father of the pilgrims" (Yûsef I.), with a

prayer for his welfare, while everywhere is to be seen here, as in

other parts, the motto, "and there is none victorious but God."

Between the two blocks already described lie the baths, the

undressing-room of which has been very creditably restored by the late

Sr. Contreras, and looks splendid. It is, in fact, a covered patio

with the gallery of the next floor running round, and as no cloth

hangings or carpets could be used here, the walls and floor are fully

decorated with stucco and tiles. The inner rooms are now in fair

condition, and are fitted with marble, though the boiler and pipes

were sold long ago by a former "keeper" of the palace. The general

arrangement is just the same as that of the baths in Morocco.

One room of the palace was fitted up by Ferdinand and Isabella as a

chapel, the gilt ornaments of which look very gaudy by the side of

the original Moorish work. Opening out of this is a little gem of a

mosque, doubtless intended for the royal devotions alone, as it is too

small for a company.

Surrounding the palace proper are several other buildings forming part

of the Alhambra, which must not be overlooked. Among them are the two

towers of the Princesses and the Captives, both of which have been

ably repaired. In the latter are to be seen tiles of a peculiar

rosy tint, not met with elsewhere. In the Dar Aïshah ("Gabinete de

Lindaraxa"--"x" pronounced as "sh") are excellent specimens of

those with a metallic hue, resembling the colours on the surface of

tar-water. Ford points out that it was only in these tiles that the

Moors employed any but the primary colours, with gold for yellow. This

is evident, and holds good to the present day. Both these towers give

a perfect idea of a Moorish house of the better class in miniature.

Outside the walls are of the rough red of the mud concrete, while

inside they are nearly all white, and beautifully decorated. The

thickness of the walls keeps them delightfully cool, and the crooked

passages render the courts in the centre quite private.