wonder of it all increased as I began to grow familiar with its
courtyards and halls, the slender columns of its arcades, with their
tracery and oft-repeated verses forming ornament and decoration, and the
well thought-out balance of light and shade. What must it all have been
like when the sedate Moor glided noiselessly through the cool corridors,
or the clang of arms resounded through the now silent halls! It is
difficult to imagine. The inner chambers were then lined with matchless
carpets and rugs and the walls were covered with subtly coloured
_azulejos_.
Many are the changes since those days of the Infidel who cultivated the
art of living as it has never been cultivated since. Restoration is
judiciously but slowly going on, and every courtesy is shown to the
visitor. A small charge might be levied, however, to assist the
Government, even in a slight degree, with restoration, and I am sure no
one would grudge paying for the privilege of sauntering through the most
interesting remains of the Moorish days of Spain.
The unfinished Palace of Charles V. occupies a large space, to clear
which a great deal of the Moorish Palace was demolished. The interior is
extremely graceful. The double arcades, the lower of which is Doric and
the upper Ionic, run round a circular court which for good proportion it
would be hard to beat.
[Illustration: GRANADA. GENERALIFE]
On the Corre de Sol, a little way out of the Alhambra and situated above
it, is the Generalife. It belongs to the Pallavicini family of Genoa,
but on the death of the present representative becomes the property of
the Spanish Government. A stately cypress avenue leads to the entrance
doorway, through which one enters an oblong court full of exotic growth
and even in April a blaze of colour. Through a tank down the centre runs
a delicious stream of clear water. At the further end of this
captivating court are a series of rooms, one of which contains badly
painted portraits of the Spanish Sovereigns since the days of Ferdinand
and Isabella.
Up some steps is another garden court with another tank, shaded by more
cypress trees. One huge patriarch is over six hundred years old, and it
is supposed that under it Boabdil's wife clandestinely met Hamet the
Abencerrage.
Space will not permit me to tell of the many entrancing excursions I
made to the foot-hills of the Sierra Nevada and up the two rivers. I can
only add that the valleys disclosed to the pedestrian are a wealth of
rare botanical specimens, and if time permits will well repay a
lengthened sojourn in the last stronghold of the Moors in Spain.
MALAGA
Malaga disputes with Cadiz the honour of being the oldest seaport in the
country. In early days the Phoenicians had a settlement here, and in
after times both the Carthagenians and Romans utilised "Malacca" as
their principal port on the Mediterranean littoral of Spain. In 571 the
Goths under their redoubtable King, Leovigild, wrested the town from the
Byzantines. Once more it was captured, by Tarik, in the year 710 and
remained a Moorish stronghold until Ferdinand took it after a long siege
in 1487.
It is said that gunpowder was first used in Spain at this siege, when
the "seven sisters of Ximenes," guns planted in the Gibralfaro, belched
forth fire and smoke.
In the year 709 the Berber Tarif entered into an alliance with Julian,
Governor of Ceuta, who held that place for Witiza the Gothic King of
Spain. With four ships and five hundred men he crossed the narrow and
dangerous straits to reconnoitre the European coast, having secretly in
view an independent kingdom for himself on the Iberian peninsula. He
landed at Cape Tarifa.
This expedition was so far successful that in two years' time another
Berber, of a name almost similar, Tarík to wit, was sent over with
twelve thousand men and landed near the rock which received the name of
Jabal-Tarík, or mountain of Tarík, the present Gibraltar.
Witiza in the meantime died and was succeeded by Roderic, who, hearing
of the invasion of this Moorish host, hastened south from Toledo and met
his death in the first decisive battle between Christian and Infidel on
the banks of the Guadalete near Cadiz. Tarík then commenced his
victorious march, which ended in less than three years with the
subjugation of the whole country as far as the foot of the
Pyrenees--Pelayo, in his cave at Covadonga near Oviedo, alone holding
out with a mere remnant against the all-conquering Moor.
[Illustration: MALAGA. VIEW FROM THE HARBOUR]
If you ask me, "What is Malaga to-day?" I can reply with truth, "The
noisiest town in Spain." Like all places in the south it is a babel of
street-cries, only a little more so than any of the others. The
_seranos_, or night-watchmen, disturb one's rest as they call out the
hour of the night, or whistle at the street corners to their comrades. A
breeze makes hideous the hours of darkness by the banging to and fro of
unsecured shutters. The early arrival of herds of goats with tinkling
bells heralds the dawn, which is soon followed by the discordant clatter
of all those, cracked and otherwise, which hang in the church belfries.
The noisiest town I visited, most certainly, but for all that a very
enchanting place. In a way not unlike Naples, for the Malagueno is the
Spanish prototype of the Neapolitan. Lazy, lighthearted, good-natured,
but quick to take affront, he gets through the day doing nothing in a
manner that won my sincere admiration. "Why work, señor, when you have
the sun? I do not know why the English travellers are always in such a
hurry. And the North American, he is far worse. I earned two pesetas
yesterday. To-day I have no wants, I do not work. To-morrow? Yes,
perhaps to-morrow I work, but to-day I sit here in the sun, I smoke my
cigarette, I am content to watch others, that is life!"--and who can say
that the Malagueno is far wrong? Not I.
Malaga's Cathedral, an imposing building of a very mixed Corinthian
character, occupies the site of a Moorish mosque which was converted
into a church. Of this early church of the Incarnation, the Gothic
portal of the _Segragrio_ is the only portion remaining. The present
edifice was begun in 1538 from the plans of that great architect Diego
de Siloe, but being partially destroyed by an earthquake in 1680, was
not completed until 1719. It cannot be called complete even now, and
the long period over which its construction has been spread accounts for
the very many inconsistencies in a building which is full of
architectural defects.
The west façade is flanked by two Towers, only one of which has been
finished; this is drawn out in three stages like the tower of La Seo at
Saragossa, and has a dome with lantern above. The doors of the north and
south Transepts are also flanked by towers, but they do not rise beyond
the cornice line. The interior, reminding one of Granada's Cathedral, is
seemingly immense. The proportions are massive and decidedly good. It
was in his proportions that Siloe excelled. The length of this is three
hundred and seventy-five feet, the width two hundred and forty, and the
height one hundred and thirty feet. The columns which support the heavy
roof consist of two rows of pillars one above the other. The vaulting is
of round arches.
A picture by Alonso Cano in the chapel of Our Lady of the Rosary, and
one of a _Virgin and Child_, in that of San Francisco, by Morales, were
the only two objects that I could say interested me, besides the
magnificently carved _silleria del coro_, the work of many hands, but
chiefly those of Pedro de Mena, a pupil of Cano.
With all its architectural incongruities it is an impressive fabric, and
rises high above the surrounding roofs, like a great Liner with a crowd
of smaller boats lying around her. So it struck me as I sat on the
quayside of the Malagueta making my sketch, sadly interfered with by an
unpleasant throng of idling loafers.
Beyond Malagueta lies Caleta, and on the hill above them is the Castilla
de Gibralfaro, from which when the sky is clear the African mountains
near Ceuta can be seen. Below the Gibralfaro and between it and the
Cathedral, lies the most ancient part of the city, the Alcazába, the
glorious castle and town of Moorish days. And now?--like so many of
Spain's departed glories, it is not much more than a ruined
conglomeration of huts and houses of a low and very insanitary order.
At the other end of Malaga is the Mercado, and close by is the old
Moorish sea gateway, the Puerta del Mar, washed by the waters of the
blue Mediterranean in their day, but at the present time well away from
the sea and surrounded by houses.
The everyday market is held in the dry bed of the treacherous
Guadelmedina, a stream which rose in the fatal October of 1907 and swept
away all the bridges, swamping the lower quarters of the city. Many
lives were lost in this disastrous flood and many bodies picked up by
fishing-boats far out at sea. However, when I made my sketch there was
no chance of such a visitation, and I found the market folk more polite
than the loafers on the quay.
The country lying at the back of the city and at the base of the
sun-baked and scarred mountains by which it is surrounded, produces
almost everything that grows. From this--the Vega--come grapes, raisins,
figs, oranges, lemons, water and sweet melons, quinces, pomegranates,
medlars, plantains, custard-apples, guava, olives and sugar-cane--a
veritable paradise for the fruit grower. Up the hill slopes, where the
olive luxuriates, fine woods of sweet acorn and cork trees are passed,
and any day you may see large herds of swine feeding on the acorns that
have fallen, and routing out other delicacies that their sensitive noses
tell them lie hidden beneath the surface. The pork of Estremadura is
reckoned the best in Spain, and that from these oak woods a good second.
The pig in Spain is a clean feeder, and you can eat him with perfect
safety anywhere. Such a thing as the offensive pig-sty, the disgrace of
rural England, is absolutely unknown here.
[Illustration: MALAGA. THE MARKET]
Malaga's climate is delightful, despite the fierce winds and the dust
they raise. Though rain seldom falls the cool sea breezes in summer
bring a refreshing tonic to the dweller up country; and many Spaniards
at this season come here for bathing, and obtain a maximum of sunshine
without the intense heat of the interior.
VALENCIA
Valencia del Cid is inseparably connected with the hero of Spanish
romance, Rodrigo Diaz of Bivar, to give him his real name, "Cid" being a
corruption of the Moorish _Seyyid_, and first appearing in historical
documents of the year 1064. Rising to great power, Alfonso of Leon
appointed him to the command of his army, but through jealousy banished
him in 1081. From that date the Cid became a true knight-errant. Barred
from the kingdom of Leon, he was ever ready to sell his services to the
highest bidder; and after many wanderings found himself with a goodly
following of knights, only too eager in those days, when might was
right, to be in the train of so redoubtable a champion, _en route_ to
Saragossa. The Moorish ruler of that city being at logger-heads with the
Count of Barcelona accepted the Cid's proffered services, and the result
was a battle in which the Catalans were badly beaten.
With no prospects of further service in Aragon, the Cid turned his face
south and marched on Valencia, whose Moorish King Yahya was only too
pleased to request his protection in advance, instead of succumbing to
his conquering arm. Thus began Rodrigo's connection with the city, which
with one or two intervals ended only at his death.
It was from the top of the Miguelete Tower, which is pictured in my
illustration of the Cathedral, that he showed his wife Ximena and their
daughters the fair land he had conquered. This was in 1095, when after
having rejoined Alfonso and left him again, he had returned and
recaptured the city after a siege of twenty months. Four years later
died the man whose name was a terror to the Infidel, and his widow
Ximena, following the traditions of her warrior husband, held Valencia
against overwhelming hordes of Moors. The story of the bitter end, how
she placed his body on his favourite war-horse and drove it through the
ranks of the enemy, has always been a theme for the balladmonger of
Spain.
It was in 140 B.C. that Junius Brutus founded a small Roman colony on
the banks of the river Turia. Pompey destroyed this settlement and
rebuilt it. In 413 the Goths took possession. The Emir of Cordova
captured it in 714 and Valencia remained a vassal state until the fall
of the Omayeh dynasty. Like other provinces, it became merged under the
single banner that floated over the greater part of the Peninsula at the
union of Aragon and Castile. Being a coast town and savouring of the
south, it was not until the time of the bigoted Philip III. that the
industrious and unfortunate Moriscoe was finally expelled from the
shelter of Valencia's walls.
[Illustration: VALENCIA. SAN PABLO]
Souchet sacked the place in the Napoleonic wars and received the title
of Duke of Albufera from his master. Rather an empty honour, Albufera
being the large and malarious tract of marshland along the coast a few
miles to the south of El Grao, and worth but very little.
El Grao is Valencia's Port, and is three miles distant from the city.
The road which connects the two is about the busiest high road I saw in
Spain. From sunrise till long after sunset two streams of vehicles pass
to and fro. Strings of laden donkeys, waggonettes crammed with
good-humoured laughing fisher and country folk pass along, an electric
tram carries those who can afford the extra _centimos_, and the
carriages of Valencia's well-to-do citizens take them to the harbour for
a breath of sea air out on the breakwaters. Everything seems alive, and
though there is that balmy feeling in the air which one gets in
Andalusia, there is none of the indolence and seductive _dolce far
niente_ of that enchanting province. No! quite the other way in
Valencia. The peasants are extremely industrious. The soil of the
_Huerta_ bears them three crops during the year. The system of
irrigation, the old Moorish system by-the-way, is perfect, and though
the product of a soil which is forced to bear more than it naturally
can, is reinforced at sowing time, in the case of corn, by Russian
grain, it cannot be said that Valencia depends on any outside help for
her prosperity. The swamps bordering the coast grow the finest rice in
the world. The wines of the province are good and cheap, held in much
esteem by French merchants to fortify the lighter produce of their own
country. So cheap are they in fact, that in some parts of the province
it costs more to get a drink of water than a glass of wine. Yet
drunkenness is unknown. If a Valencian took a drop too much, he would be
promptly boycotted by his neighbours, and for ever after looked upon as
a disgusting and outlandish boor, a disgrace to his village and a man to
be shunned.
The peasant is very illiterate and scrupulously honest--the one follows
the other. Like the Andalusian, he is absolutely trustworthy in all his
dealings, which are conducted by word of mouth. In buying and selling no
signatures to documents pass between the contracting parties. If any
paper is ever signed, it is confirmed by certain scratches or marks
known to belong to so and so--the signee. His word is his bond, it is
generally all he can give, but it is enough and is worth more than
signatures sometimes are. Further north, where modern ways of life are
more in vogue, and where all is more "advanced," there are ten lawyers
to the one in Valencia and the south.
[Illustration: VALENCIA. DOOR OF THE CATHEDRAL]
The Cathedral was originally a Gothic structure, but one fashion
following another, has been at different times so altered and robbed of
all architectural beauty that there remains but little of interest in
the building. It was founded in 1262 and finished two hundred years
later. El Miguelete, the celebrated Bell Tower, is so named because the
bells were first hung on St. Michael's Day. Like the Torre de Vela of
the Alhambra, a bell is here struck which regulates the irrigation of
the _Huerta_.
In this connection, and as an exemplification of the peasant's
trustworthiness, once a month, on a Thursday, the Tribunal de Aguas sits
in the Plaza de la Seo outside the Puerto de los Apóstoles or north door
of the Cathedral. Its presiding members are chosen by their fellow
peasants for their integrity and general standing in the community. They
exercise absolute control over the seven different irrigation districts.
The Government has once or twice interfered with this, but
unsuccessfully. Plaintiffs and defendants appear before this primitive
tribunal seated in a public square. The case is stated, _pros_ and
_cons_ weighed, and judgment given fairly on its merits. Any one passing
can stop and hear the arguments of both sides. As a proof of the
shrewdness the peasants possess and the confidence they have in their
dealings with one another, no appeal is ever made from the judgment of
their elders.
This north door has good sculptured figures in the jambs and archivolt.
Above is a fine rose window. These are among the remains of the first
building. Another relic of the early structure is the octagonal
_cimborio_ erected about the same time as the doorway, _i.e._, 1350. The
lancet windows over the Puerta del Paláu, which is surmounted by a round
arch with carvings in the jambs, are all of the same period. The third
doorway, the Puerta del Miguelete, is florid and overdone, and dates
from the eighteenth century. Its bronze doors however are extremely
fine.
The best features of the much-spoilt interior are the octagon and the
very beautiful Corinthian _silleria del coro_. The original _retablo_
over the High Altar was set on fire by the lighted cotton attached to a
pigeon let loose at a religious ceremony in 1469. The side panels alone
were saved from the results of the terrified bird's erratic flight.
Close by on a pillar is hung the armour of James I. of Aragon.
Over the sacristy door is a good painting by Ribalta of _Christ Bearing
the Cross_, and in the ante-room an _Adoration_ by Ribera, besides five
good examples of Juanes' brush.
Among the treasures of the Cathedral is an extraordinary piece of
goldsmith's work, a Calix, showing four different periods of this art,
_i.e._, Roman, IXth, XVth and XVIth centuries. It figures in
the picture of the _Last Supper_ by Juanes, which is now in the Prado at
Madrid. An interesting trophy also belongs to the Cathedral in the shape
of the chain which at one time closed the old Port of Marseilles.
The many different varieties of marble used in the decoration of the
building form a very pleasing series, and go some way towards
compensating the disappointment one experiences with the much-altered
style of what ought to be a grand interior.
I saw a good procession one evening wending its way through the crowds
which lined the narrow street near the church of Santa Catalina. The
balconies were filled with occupants who showered rose leaves down as
the effigy of St. John passed by. The light from the torches carried by
some boys flickered upwards and caught the faces of those peering over
from their vantage posts above. The crowd knelt as the saint passed, and
once more the vitality of the Church, which I could not but feel
wherever I went in Spain is _the_ thing that lives, was again in
evidence.
Over the door of the church of San Martin is a good equestrian group in
bronze. San Domingo has some very beautiful cloisters of late Gothic
date, and San Salvador possesses Valencia's miraculous image. Nicodemus
is reputed to have made this, the Christ of Beyrout. The marvellous
relic navigated itself from Syria across the waters of the Mediterranean
and reached Valencia against the river's stream. A monument on the bank
marks the spot where the wonderful voyage ended by the safe landing of
the Christ. It is much visited by the devout. In the chapel attached to
the Colegio del Patriarca hangs Ribalta's fine _Last Supper_. Every
Friday morning at ten o'clock the _Miserere_ is celebrated here. The
impressive ceremony commences with the slow lowering of this picture
from its place above the High Altar. The void is filled by a dark cloth,
which, as the service proceeds, is gently drawn aside disclosing a
second cloth, this is again repeated, followed by another, and when
this, the fourth cloth, is parted asunder a fine painting of _Christ
Crucified_ is revealed. Meanwhile chants appropriate to the solemn
service have been filling the church and increasing the tension of the
congregation. The whole ceremony is a very good piece of stage
management and certainly most thrilling and inspiring. The black
_mantilla_ for ladies is _de rigeur_.
[Illustration: VALENCIA. RELIGIOUS PROCESSION]
Valencia's walls, erected in 1356, were demolished in 1871 to give work
to the unemployed, and the spacious _Paseo_ made in their stead. The
trees planted along this carriage drive have added materially to the
health of the city.
Of the two remaining gates, the Torres de Serranos is much the better.
Built in the second half of the fourteenth century on Roman foundations,
its massive construction and great height are very grand. It is one of
the best gates I know. The archway itself is rather low. The double
floors above have fine Gothic vaulting and are approached by a flight of
steps. The gallery is supported on heavy corbels, and the cornice has
deep machicolations. The whole rises in isolated grandeur and may
perhaps gain, from the painter's point of view, by the absence of
flanking walls.
The Torre de Cuarto is another enormous gateway with two huge round
towers on either side. It still bears the marks of Souchet's
artillery--whose round shot did apparently no damage whatever. Not far
from this gate lies the Mercado situated in the middle of the old
quarters of the city. Valencia is quite a modern town, it is rapidly
losing everything of any age, and changing its narrow insanitary
streets for spacious well-built thoroughfares.
The Mercado is by far the largest and most attractive market in Spain.
Fruit and vegetables, wicker goods of all sorts, baskets, chairs, toys,
leather-work and harness, brightly coloured mule trappings, every
description of wood and metal-work, the usual assortment of old iron,
lamps antique and modern, oleographs and chromos, saints and virgins
jostling the latest cheap reproduction of a famous _Torrero_ or
_Bailarina_, furniture, worn-out field implements and new cutlery, lace,
everything, in fact, including smells, the variety of which I found
unequalled anywhere. Strong garlic assaulted my nostrils--in three more
steps I was in the midst of roses and carnations, half a dozen more and
a horribly rank cheese made the air vibrate; and so it continued from
one end to the other of this most fascinating kaleidoscopic throng, to
study which I returned every day of my sojourn in Valencia.
On one side of this wonderful market-place stands the Lonja de la Seda.
It dates from 1482 and occupies the site of the Moorish Alcázar. Perhaps
of all the examples of Gothic civil architecture in Europe, the Lonja de
la Seda can claim the first place. The west façade, facing the Mercado,
has a double row of square-topped Gothic windows, above which is a
traceried gallery running round the entire building with gargoyles and
a frieze of heads below the embattled parapet.
In the centre is a Tower with a couple of Gothic windows. There are two
separate buildings in this "Silk Exchange," one of which has a beautiful
court. The whole of the other is occupied by the Exchange Hall. The rich
star vaulting of the interior is borne by two rows of spiral columns
without capitals; they branch out to the roof like the leaves of a palm
tree and it is very evident that this beautiful treatment was suggested
by the growth of the tree.