CORDOVA
"They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep."
The sands of Asia are strewn with the ruins of cities once the gorgeous
capitals of mighty empires. Here in Spain the followers of the Prophet
raised a metropolis as splendid as any of the new Babylons of the East;
and its fall has been wellnigh as great as theirs. We need not credit
all the assertions of the Arabian writers (for the scribes of that
nation, as Cervantes remarks, are not a little addicted to fiction). We
can hardly believe that Cordova in its prime contained 300,000
inhabitants, 600 mosques, 50 hospitals, 800 public schools, 900 baths,
600 inns, and a library of 600,000 volumes; but there is evidence enough
to satisfy us that this was in the tenth century the most magnificent
and populous city in Europe, Byzantium alone excepted. Now it is a small
provincial capital, bright, white, and coquettish, utterly without the
solemnity and majesty which should invest the seats of vanished empires.
Here greatness has been swallowed up in insignificance, not in
desolation. The Court of the Khalifas, the Western Mecca, does not lie
in lordly ruin like a fallen Colossus, but has sunk into mere pettiness.
[Illustration: CORDOVA--ENTRANCE TO THE CITY]
Victor Hugo draws, as only he knew how, in a couple of lines, a
picturesque sketch of Cordova, but this hardly corresponds to the
impressions of the modern traveller. The houses may be old (some of them
certainly are), but in their coats of dazzling whitewash they look
brand-new. Gautier very sensibly remarks that, thanks to whitewash, the
wall which was erected a century ago cannot be distinguished from that
which was erected yesterday. Its general application "imparts a uniform
tint to all buildings, fills up the architectural lines, effaces all
their delicate ornamentation, and does not allow you to read their age."
Cordova, which was formerly a centre of Arabian civilization, is now
nothing more than a confused mass of small white houses, above which
rise a few mangrove trees, with their metallic green foliage, or some
palm trees with their branches spread out like the claws of a crab;
while the whole town is divided by narrow passages into a number of
separate blocks, where it would be difficult for two mules to pass
abreast. Such is Cordova to-day, and I doubt very much if its external
aspect was a whit more splendid or by any means as pleasing in the days
of its glory. Some authors write as if they imagined the Mohammedans
built their capitals on the lines of Paris and Washington. A visit to
Constantinople or to Cairo would remove that impression. Imagine
Cordova covering three or four times its present area, its windows
obscured with lattices, its walls less white, its streets filled with a
noisy mob of beshawled and beturbaned men--black, brown, and white--with
noble mosques and elegant minarets here and there, and you will have a
fair picture of the capital of the Western Khalifate.
Of its outward seeming only. Its culture and refined social life merited
for Cordova the title of the Athens of the West. When all Europe was
sunk in barbarism, medicine and chemistry, the natural sciences, the
arts and philosophy, all found a refuge here. Culture was diffused
through all classes of the population, if only very superficially, to an
extent never perhaps equalled elsewhere. And though there was little
initiative or originality about the scholars at Cordova, their labours
contributed to keep alive a taste for the humanities which otherwise
would never have revived in Europe. The comforts and amenities of life
were carefully studied in the Western Khalifate. All the products which
minister to luxury were at that time the almost exclusive property of
the Moslem world, and to the bazaars of Cordova were brought the
choicest spoils of Egypt, Persia, Arabia, and Hindostan. And at the head
of this urbane and flourishing commonwealth sat the great Umeyyad
khalifa, emulous of the glories of Bagdad and Cairo, and eager to
surpass them in elegance and splendour.
[Illustration: CORDOVA--CALLE CARDINAL HERRERA]
Of those great days all that remains is the Mezquita--and that is much.
Next to St. Peter's it is the largest of Christian temples, and
certainly among the most ancient. As a Mohammedan place of worship, it
ranked in sanctity with the Mosque of Omar at Jerusalem, immediately
after Mecca, which it was indeed designed to eclipse. It was
Abd-ur-Rahman's ambition to focus all the interests of Islam at this
point within his own dominions. Spanish Moslems were taught that a
pilgrimage to the "Zeka" of Cordova was in all respects equivalent to a
pilgrimage to Mecca. Hence Sancho Panza's saying, "Andar de Zeca en
Mecca." That the Umeyyad khalifa succeeded in diverting the Faithful
from the old shrine to the new is doubtful, but he and his successors
spared no pains to render their mosque one of the wonders of the world.
In the year 786, seized, it is said, by a sudden inspiration,
Abd-ur-Rahman convoked his council and declared his intention of raising
a temple to Allah on the site of a Christian church. The Moslems had
already appropriated half of the Basilica of San Vicente to their use,
suffering the Christians to perform their rites in the adjoining
portion. The khattib was commanded to approach the unbelievers to
negotiate the purchase of the whole edifice. The Christians stood out
for a high price, and got it. They received a sum equal to £400,000 of
our money, and permission, moreover, to rebuild all their churches in
the city that had existed at the time of the Conquest. When we remember
the violent seizure and "purification" of the Church of St. Sophia by
the Turks, seven hundred years later, we can see how little Islam had
learnt of toleration in the meantime.
The old basilica was accordingly demolished and the mosque begun. The
khalifa set apart a portion of his revenues for the work, and laboured
himself upon it for an hour each day. Thus encouraged, his subjects of
all ranks made it a point of honour to contribute either their personal
labour or their money to the great work. Though most of the columns came
from the marble quarries of the neighbouring town of Cabra, as many as
possible were brought from the most distant parts of the Mohammedan
empire, from the works of civilizations which Islam had subdued. The
mosque was to be a monument to the triumph of the Crescent. Its
dimensions as projected by the founder were four times less than those
of the existing building.
The successors of Abd-ur-Rahman obtained the assistance of Byzantine
craftsmen, and embellished the mosque with rich mosaics. Almost a
quarter of the actual building was added by Al Hakem II., and the
eastern half by Al Mansûr. To effect this last expansion, a cottage
beneath a palm tree had to be acquired. The old lady to whom it belonged
refused to budge till an exactly similar abode was found for her. This
was done at last, after a diligent search, and a liberal donation made
to her to boot.
[Illustration: CORDOVA--MOORISH MILL]
Thus was reared this mighty temple of Islam on European soil, at a time
when the state of the Christian world went far to justify the exultant
words of the khalifa: "Let us build the Kaaba of the West upon the
site of a Christian temple, which we will destroy, so that we may set
forth how the Cross shall fall and become abased before the True
Prophet. Allah will never place the world beneath the feet of those who
make themselves the slaves of drink and sensuality, while they preach
penitence and the joys of chastity, and while extolling poverty, enrich
themselves to the loss of their neighbours. For these, the sad and
silent cloister; for us, the crystalline fountain and the shady grove;
for them, the rude and unsocial life of dungeon-like strongholds; for
us, the charm of social life and culture; for them, intolerance and
tyranny; for us, a ruler who is our father; for them, the darkness of
ignorance; for us, letters and instruction widespread as our creed; for
them, the wilderness, celibacy, and the doom of the false martyr; for
us, plenty, love, brotherhood and eternal joy."
The face of the world has changed somewhat in ten centuries.
It must, I think, be admitted that the Mezquita, to European eyes, is
fantastic and interesting rather than beautiful. It may be compared to a
forest of columns or to a seemingly endless series of parallel aisles
spanned by low horseshoe arches. It does in truth remind one, as one
writer observes, of a gigantic crypt. The additions of Al Mansûr, may be
distinguished by the pointed arches. Otherwise there is little of the
variety insured in Christian churches by the distribution of the parts.
It is only in the columns themselves that we find any relief from the
prevailing uniformity. There are interesting differences in their
capitals, and in their bases also, which are, however, buried
underground. In the ruder carving is seen an attempt on the part of the
Moorish masons to copy the work of the more skilled craftsmen of Rome
and Byzantium. The mean vaulting overhead is modern. It is gradually
being taken down and replaced by the beautiful carved ceiling of white
larchwood which Murphy described a hundred years ago. He says: "Above
the first arch is placed a second, considerably narrower and connecting
it with the square pillars that support the timber work of the roof,
which is not less curious in its execution than are the other parts of
the building. It was put together in the time of Abd-ur-Rahman I., and
subsists to this day unimpaired, though partially concealed by the
plaster-work of the modern arches. The beams contain many thousands of
cubic feet; the bottoms and side of the cross beams have been carved and
painted with different figures; the rafters also are painted red. Such
parts as retain the paint are untouched by worms: the other parts, where
the paint no longer remains, are so little affected that the decay of a
thousand years is scarcely perceptible; and, what is rarely to be seen
in an edifice of such antiquity, no cobwebs whatever are to be traced
here. The timber work of the roof is further covered with lead; and
the whole has been executed with such precision and taste, that it may
justly be pronounced a _chef-d'œuvre_ of art, both with respect to
the arrangement of the different parts, as well as to the extent and
solidity of the whole."
[Illustration: CORDOVA--MEZQUITA]
But what must have lent so much of beauty to the building originally was
that, instead of being enclosed with walls as it is at present, its long
arcades opened into the groves of orange trees without, which were
simply their natural continuation--a graceful and symmetrical plan which
one would like to see attempted in modern times. Though, too, every
Mohammedan temple is necessarily simple in plan and can never approach
the Christian churches in elaboration and gorgeousness, here Moslem art
exhausted its ingenuity on the embellishment of those more sacred parts
of the building such as the Sanctuary and the Maksurrah.
The Sanctuary or Zeka has been spared to us. It is a little heptagonal
recess, paved with white marble and roofed with a shell-like cupola of
marble of a single block. The sides are formed by dentated horseshoe
arches which interlace and enclose each other in a beautiful
complication. Here in the southern wall is the recess which indicated
the direction of Mecca, and towards which the worshippers turned; it is
adorned with exquisite mosaic work and with inscriptions from the Koran
and the names of the architects. In the Sanctuary was preserved for
several centuries after the Reconquest the superb "mimbar" or pulpit of
Al Hakem II. "It was of marble," says Señor de Madrazo, "and of the most
precious woods, such as ebony, red sandal-wood, bakam, Julian aloe,
etc.; it cost 35,000 dineros and 3 adirames. It had nine steps." We are
told that it was composed of 36,000 pieces of wood, joined with pins of
silver and gold, and encrusted with precious stones. Its construction
lasted seven years, eight artificers being employed upon it daily. This
tribune was reserved for the khalifa, and in it was deposited the
principal object of the veneration of the Moslems of Andalusia and Al
Moghreb--a copy of the Koran supposed to have been written by Othman and
stained with his precious blood. This treasure was preserved in a
binding of cloth-of-gold sewn with pearls and rubies, covered with the
richest red silk, and placed on a lectern of aloe-wood with nails of
gold. Its weight was extraordinary, and two men could carry it only with
difficulty. It was placed in the mimbar, when the imam read from it the
prayer of the Azulah, and was then placed in the treasury with the gold
and silver vessels used in the ceremonies of the "Ramadan."
The Maksurrah is now transformed into the chapel of Villa Viciosa. Here
sat the khalifa when not officiating as imam. Little is visible of the
original decoration, except the cupola, similar to that of the
Sanctuary. Adjacent to this chapel another has been discovered which it
is thought will prove to be the treasury to which Madrazo refers.
[Illustration: CORDOVA--PATIO DE LOS NARANJOS]
When Cordova was taken by St. Ferdinand in 1236, the mosque was
reconsecrated as a Christian cathedral, but little alteration was made
in the original structure. It was in 1523 that the unfortunate idea
possessed the bishop, Don Alfonso Manrique, to build a new church in the
middle of the Mohammedan temple. So proud were the Cordovans of their
great monument, that the municipality threatened the innovators with
death if they ventured to carry the project into execution. However,
this decree was overridden by an order from Charles V., who knew so
little what he was about that on visiting Cordova a few years later, he
bitterly expressed his regret at having allowed the mosque to be
interfered with. Two hundred columns had been swept away to make room
for the existing chancel, choir, and lateral chapels. Though we resent
their appearance here, these parts of the church are not wanting in
taste and richness. The reredos of jasper and bronze is painted by
Antonio Palomino, and flanks a sumptuous and beautifully moulded
tabernacle. Not so much praise can be bestowed on the choir, where,
however, the stalls by Pedro Duque Cornejo reveal skilful workmanship.
Lope de Rueda, the Spanish Molière, is entombed here. In the Cathedral
is also buried the poet Gongora, whose style is aptly compared by Mme.
Dieulafoy to that of Churriguera in architecture. A more interesting
grave is that of Doña Maria de Guzman de Paredes, a lady celebrated for
her wit and wisdom in the days of Philip II., and who won every degree
it was in the power of the University of Alcalá to confer. Duque Cornejo
is also buried here.
In the Sacristy is a fine monstrance by Juan de Arfe. The chapels do not
call for particular examination.
If the Mezquita is strange within, it is eminently picturesque without.
The massive walls are crenellated and supported by stout square
buttresses. Between these are horseshoe arches, richly decorated, and
forming originally sixteen entrances, most of which are now blocked up.
The Puerta del Perdon has been adorned with the arms of Castile and
Leon, and is secured by bronze doors of an interesting type. An
inscription upon it runs:--"On the 2nd day of the month of March of the
era of Cæsar 1415 (1577 A.D.), in the reign of the Most High and Mighty
Don Enrique, King of Castile."
Of the minaret, once equal to the Giralda and, like it, once surmounted
by great metal globes, only the lowest storey remains, an earthquake
having thrown down the superstructure in the sixteenth century. And the
famous Court of the Orange Trees, on to which the aisles at one time
opened, has lost much of its charm. The trees are stunted and withered,
and the soil covered with coarse grass and weeds. On three sides the
court is surrounded by a gallery, on the fourth by the buildings of the
chapter. The basin was placed here in 945 by Abd-ur-Rahman, and might
with advantage be used for its original purpose by some of the
habitués of the patio. Two Roman columns at the entrance to the
Cathedral announce the distance to Gades (114 miles) from the Temple of
Janus, which stood on this site.
[Illustration: CORDOVA--OUTER WALL OF THE MOSQUE]
On the whole the far-famed Mezquita may be pronounced disappointing. It
must always be so with the simply planned temples of Islam, when they
are stripped of the innumerable lamps, the rich carpets and handsome
furniture, still to be seen in them at Cairo, Constantinople, and
Smyrna.
Of the magnificent Palace of the Khalifas, the wonderful domain of Az
Zahara, no trace remains. It was built by a Byzantine architect on the
flanks of a hill, three miles north-east of Cordova, which the khalifa
at one time thought of levelling. Arab writers declare this to have been
the largest palace, as of course it was the most magnificent, ever
raised by the hand of man. The harem (_credat Judæus_) could accommodate
6,000 women, 3,790 eunuchs, and 1,500 guards. Marble appears to have
been freely used in the construction, from which it would seem that the
building bore little resemblance to the Alcazar of a later day. There
were, of course, thousands--tens of thousands--of columns brought from
Rome and Tunis, and probably from Carthage, and fine fragments of
terra-cotta are still unearthed on the site. Aqueducts conducted sweet
waters to every chamber in the palace, and fountains cooled the air in
the luxuriantly planted gardens. We are told of the Hall of Ceremonial,
with its brilliant mosaics and its ceiling of scented wood, in the
centre of which was set an immense pearl, the gift of the Emperor
Constantinos Porphyrogenitos. And we hear in addition of basins filled
with quicksilver for the amusement of the odalisques.
This gorgeous pile owes its existence to a favourite of the Khalifa An
Nasir, who at her death directed that her immense wealth should be
employed in ransoming Moslem prisoners in the clutch of the Christian.
The bereaved potentate sent east, west, north and south in order to
execute this pious request, only to find to his joy that no such thing
as a Moslem captive was anywhere to be found. The happy thought then
came to him to expend the money on the erection of a palace to be named
after a new favourite, Zahara, whose name it should perpetuate, and in
whose society he might hope to forget the deceased. This seems to us a
somewhat queer application of the legacy. The work occupied ten thousand
men daily for many years, and cost during An Nasir's reign alone seven
and a half millions of dineros or pieces of gold.
[Illustration: CORDOVA--A STREET SCENE]
The palace seems to have excited, as well it might, the cupidity of
neighbouring monarchs. Alfonso VI., the conqueror of Toledo, demanded it
of the Amir Al Mutamed, as a residence for his queen, Doña Constancia,
whose accouchement he suggested might take place in the mosque. It was
the Moor's rejection of this original proposal that led to hostilities,
and threw the Spanish Moslems into the arms of the terrible
Almorávides. Those fierce sectaries seem to have entirely neglected Az
Zahara, and under the puritanical Almohades we can easily imagine it
would be suffered to decay. How little was left of it when Ferdinand
took the place is shown by his referring to it merely as Cordova la
Vieja (Old Cordova).
Men who lived in such comfort and luxury might be supposed to have
regarded their less fortunate fellows with easy good nature and
tolerance, and according to most historians the khalifas of Cordova were
benevolent despots, even towards their Christian subjects. Some Spanish
writers, however, paint the lot of these last in gloomy colours, though,
if we accept their accounts _in toto_, without the least reservation,
there can be no question that the lot of the Christian under the Moor
was very much better than the lot of the Moor under the Christian. But
that standpoint would not be that of the historians in question. They
are frankly partisans. The Mohammedans, they would argue, deserved what
they got, because they worshipped the false Prophet; the Christians were
in the right. It is more difficult to understand their vehement
condemnation of the Bishop Recafred, because he forbade his flock to
seek voluntary martyrdom by publicly cursing Mohammed. To curse the
Arabian Prophet or anyone else is nowhere laid down as a Christian's
duty, and on merely prudential grounds the prelate was surely justified
in dissuading his people from pursuing a course which must finally have
resulted in their complete extermination. Probably in disgust at the
ingratitude and imbecility of his flock, Recafred embraced the creed of
Islam, and died cursed and abominated by the people whose utter
extinction he had averted. The history of the martyrs of Cordova is a
curious chapter in the annals of religion.
It was recently remarked of Italy that there was not enough faith to
generate a heresy, and by a parity of reasoning the lamp of faith must
have burnt very brightly in the Christian community of Cordova. The
Saracen authorities were bewildered by the multitude of sects and
factions which claimed to represent the Church of Christ, and to
administer its temporalities. Councils of the Christian prelates were
frequently convoked by the khalifas, but by the defeated side their
decisions were always branded as schismatical or heretical. Religious
debate is the favourite occupation of a decaying State, and the
Mohammedans themselves had their divisions. The doctors of the law, who
congregated in a special quarter of the capital, constituted themselves
the critics of their rulers and of public morals. They considered
culture and luxury incompatible with morality, and preached the creed of
the Uncomfortable and the Unlovely with the zest of an English Puritan.
One day there arose a sovereign (Hakem) more sensitive of censure than
his predecessors. He burnt out the Puritan quarter and forced the
zealots to take refuge in distant parts where their peculiar talents
were more in demand.
[Illustration: CORDOVA--A STREET]
The more human side of Islam found an embodiment in the illustrious
Ziryab, the favourite of Abd-ur-Rahman II. In his case, I suppose, as in
all else, it is necessary to discount by fifty per cent. all the
appreciations of Arabic writers; yet through all the cobwebs of
exaggeration and tradition, we can discern the outlines of a very
remarkable personality. Ziryab was the Admirable Crichton of his age. He
combined the attributes of Leonardo da Vinci and Beau Nash. He alone
could decide on the proper method of eating asparagus and on the
planning of a city. He could pronounce with finality on the wisdom of a
move at chess and a far-reaching treaty of state. He had views on the
organization of armies and aviaries; he was listened to with equal
respect by statesmen and scullery-maids. And (wonderful to relate) this
authority on everybody's business was loved by everyone!
The history of Cordova, like that of most capitals, belongs to the
nation at large, and cannot be more than touched upon here. Memorials of
ancient days are the picturesque Moorish walls with their flanking
towers and the grand old bridge of sixteen arches, built by the
khalifas. It marked the limit of navigation in Roman days, whereas now
no boat can ascend the Guadalquivir above Seville. The bridge is
defended on the south side by a very picturesque _tête du pont_ called
Calahorra, a fine specimen of the medieval barbican. Here a strange
scene was witnessed in the year 1394, when the prototype of Don
Quixote, Don Martin de la Barbuda, Grand Master of Calatrava, appeared
at the head of a few knights and a fanatical rabble on his way to fight
the Moors of Granada. His enterprise was directly counter to the king's
orders; the two countries were at peace. The royal officers assembled on
the bridge expostulated and threatened the crusaders in vain. The Grand
Master was accompanied by a hermit, who exhorted him to proceed and
promised him that his victory should be purchased without the loss of a
single Christian life. The officials were swept aside, and the wild
cavalcade went on its way to destruction. None of the knights ever
returned alive across the bridge of Cordova.
[Illustration: CORDOVA--THE BRIDGE]
During the four centuries following the Reconquest, the city boasted
that it was the home of the finest flower of the European aristocracy.
Their old mansions have for the most part disappeared, but the name of
the most distinguished member of the order is treasured in Cordova and
honoured far beyond the limits of Spain. Gonzalo Hernandez de Aguilar y
de Cordova, "the Great Captain," is the hero of the city. The principal
street is named after him, as indeed one might suppose the town to have
been, from the reverence in which he is held. On the whole, he was the
greatest soldier this country has produced. With forces hardly superior
to those with which Cortes and Pizarro conquered a savage foe, he
vanquished the best equipped troops in Christendom and matched his
strength successfully against the most brilliant warriors of his day.
His reward, it is hardly necessary to say of the servant of a
fifteenth-century king, was ingratitude and neglect. When the odious
Ferdinand V. demanded from him a statement of his military expenditure,
he responded with the famous "Cuentas del Gran Capitan," which silenced
even the venal monarch. The statement ran:
"200,736 ducats and 9 reals paid to the clergy and the poor who
prayed for the victory of the arms of Spain.
"100 millions in pikes, bullets, and entrenching tools; 100,000 in
powder and cannon-balls, 10,000 ducats in scented gloves to
preserve the troops from the odour of the enemies' dead left on the
battlefield; 100,000 ducats spent in the repair of the bells
completely worn out by every day announcing fresh victories gained
over our enemies; 50,000 ducats in 'aguardiente' for the troops, on
the eve of battle. A million and a half for the safeguarding
prisoners and wounded.
"One million for Masses of Thanksgiving, 700,494 ducats for secret
service, etc.
"And one hundred millions for the patience with which I have
listened to the King, who demands an account from the man who has
presented him with a kingdom"!
This singular balance-sheet sufficiently shows the temper of the
grandees of Spain even in the days of the New Monarchy. Cordova has
reason to be proud of her eponymous hero. She has not been very fruitful
in great men. She has produced no painters of eminence, unless Pablo de
Cespedes may be classed among such; but Mme. Dieulafoy reminds us that
to Juan de Mena, a native of the place and a courtier of Juan II.,
Spanish poetry is deeply indebted:
"His great work, 'The Labyrinth,' may in a measure be compared with
that part of the 'Divina Commedia' where the Florentine places
himself under the protection of Beatrice. Accompanied by a
beautiful young woman personifying Providence, the poet witnesses
the apparition of the worthies of History and Legend, and amuses
himself in sketching their portraits. At times the style becomes
heavy and pedantic, at others the touches of the pencil have a
vigour and simplicity altogether Dantesque. Before Juan de Mena,
the Castilian muse had never taken so daring a flight; and in spite
of the defects of the general scheme, the untasteful phraseology,
and the measure, 'The Labyrinth' abounds in conceptions and
episodes where energy blended with beauty reveals a genius of the
first order."
[Illustration: CORDOVA--COURTYARD OF AN INN]
From poetry to leather the transition may seem abrupt, but it is to be
feared that our city has derived more renown from the latter than the
former. The stamped and gilded leather of Cordova was highly esteemed
all over the civilized world from the fifteenth century to the
eighteenth. Whether the industry was introduced by the Moors it is idle
to inquire; long after their departure it formed the principal business
and source of revenue of the Spaniards of the city. A powerful guild
laid down strict rules as to apprenticeship, and regulated the quality
and quantity of the manufacture. Terrible penalties were enforced
against the tanner who made use of the hides of animals that had died of
disease. The kings of Spain considered trunks or other objects
bound in Cordova leather gifts very suitable for their fellow-princes.
The Catholic kings, absurdly enough, forbade its exportation to the New
World, not wishing to deprive the mother-country of goods of such price.
With protection on this scale, we are not surprised to learn that the
industry began to decline. Cordova was at length surpassed in its own
line by Venice and other cities. The rich specimens of its work which
adorned the mansions of its old noblesse were sold and dispersed all
over the world, upon the general impoverishment of the kingdom in the
eighteenth century. Then came the sack of the city, a hundred years ago,
by the army of Dupont. Time has spared the famous race of Cordovan
horses, and many a poor hidalgo rides into the town on a steed which if
sold in London might redeem his shattered fortunes.
I have said a great deal about Cordova and its titles to remembrance;
but it must be confessed that there is little enough to see in it. The
churches present no features of interest, except the Colegiata de San
Hipolito, modernized in 1729, which contains the tombs of Ferdinand IV.
and Alfonso XI. Nor is walking through the city an exercise altogether
pleasing, as the streets which were the first paved in Europe, in 850,
might also claim to be the worst paved in the world. The stones are so
sharp and pointed that in parts you have to skip from one to the other,
like a bear dancing on hot iron--an original but ungraceful method of
locomotion. A drive in the surrounding country is productive of more
pleasure. The neighbourhood is a Paradise of fertility, and sets one
wondering what becomes of all the money that this must bring in and
represent. Spain and Greece are very poor countries, but I do not think
that Spaniards and Greeks are, for the most part, very poor.
[Illustration: CORDOVA--OLD HOUSES NEAR THE RIVER]