_The Alcázar_
'How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.'
RUBÁIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYÁM.
The richest monument of Almohade might in Seville is the beautiful
Alcázar, or 'Castle,' which stands at but a stone's-throw from the
remains of the great mosque. It is a palace of dreams, encompassed by
lovely perfumed gardens. Its courts and salons are redolent of Moorish
days, and haunted by the spirits of turbaned sheiks, philosophers,
minstrels, and dark-eyed beauties of the harem. As we loiter under the
orange trees of quiet gardens, we picture the palace as it was when
peopled by the chiefs and retinues of swarthy skin in the time of
Abdelasis, and contrast what remains of the primitive structure and
Morisco decoration with the successive additions by Christian kings.
The nightingales still sing among the odorous orange bloom, and in the
tangles of roses birds build their nests. Fountains tinkle beneath
gently moving palms; the savour of Orientalism clings to the spot. Here
wise men discussed in the cool of summer nights, when the moon stood
high over the Giralda, and white beams fell through the spreading boughs
of the lemon trees, and shivered upon the tiled pavements.
[Illustration: Patio de las Doncellas]
In this garden the musicians played, and the tawny dancers writhed and
curved their lissome bodies, in dramatic Eastern dances. _Ichabod!_
The moody potentate, bowed down with the cares of high office, no longer
treads the dim corridor, or lingers in the shade of the palm trees, lost
in cogitation. No sound of gaiety reverberates in the deserted courts;
no voice of orator is heard in the Hall of Justice. The green lizards
bask on the deserted benches of the gardens. Rose petals strew the paved
paths. One's footsteps echo in the gorgeous _patios_, whose walls have
witnessed many a scene of pomp, tragedy and pathos. The spell of the
past holds one; and before the imagination troops a long procession of
illustrious sovereigns, courtiers, counsellors and menials.
* * * * *
The historians of the Alcázar suppose that the original structure was
erected in 1181 for Abu Yakub Yûsuf. Between the Puerta del León, in the
Plaza del Triunfo, and the Sala de Justicia there are parts of the wall
which are said to date back to the Roman times. It is generally asserted
that the Moorish palace was reared on the ruins of a Roman prætorium,
and that the original work was undertaken in the eleventh century. In
its pristine form the Alcázar was of triangular design, and the
buildings and gardens occupied a much greater space than they cover at
the present day. The chief _puerta_ was originally at the Torre de la
Plata, formerly standing in the Calle de Ataranzas, but pulled down in
recent years; while another point of the triangle was at the Torre del
Oro, on the bank of the Guadalquivir. Within these precincts there were
vast halls, council rooms, dormitories, baths and gardens. The remaining
portions of the walls and the towers show that the ancient fortress was
very strong; and one can understand the difficulty experienced by
Fernando the Good during his long siege of the citadel.
In the Plaza de Santo Tomas is the Tower of Abdelasis, which was once
part of the palace. It was from this tower that Fernando floated the
Christian standard after the capture of the Alcázar. The chief entrance
in our day is in the Plaza del Triunfo. It is called the Gate of the
Lion (Puerta del León). We pass through, and come into the Patio de las
Banderas (Court of the Banners), so called because a flag was hoisted
here during the residence of the sovereign in the palace. The _patio_ is
surrounded by modern offices, and planted with orange trees. A roofed
passage on the right side of the court leads to the wonderful _Mudéjar_
halls and the salons of the Catholic kings. The passage is the Apeadero,
or 'halting-place.' It was built by Philip V. The façade is in the
Baroque style.
Turning to the right from the Apeadero, we follow a corridor to the
Court of Doña Maria Padilla, the mistress of Pedro the Cruel. The court
is planted with orange and lemon trees and big palms. Arched galleries
of a modern character seem out of place here. But in a moment we come
into the Patio de la Monteria with its beautiful Moorish façade. The
_ajimez_ windows, the cusped arches, and the decorations of this doorway
are fine examples of Almohade art. There is an inscription in early
Gothic characters, over the door, stating that 'the most noble and
powerful Don Pedro, by the grace of God, King of Castile and León,
caused these fortresses and palaces to be built in the era of _de mill
et quatrocientios y dos_' (of Cæsar). The date is 1364 A.D.
We follow a passage to the Patio de las Doncellas (Court of the
Maidens). This large and lofty hall has twenty-four beautiful Morisco
arches, and singularly rich ornamentations. The fifty-two marble columns
are of the Renaissance period, and were substituted between the years
1540 and 1564 for the original pillars. Notice the glazed tiling
decorations of brilliant colouring. These date from the time of Pedro
the Cruel, who added to the ancient palace until little of the original
remained. Notwithstanding, the style is distinctly Moorish, and the
decoration was the work of _Mudéjares_, whose quaint _azulejos_ may be
here studied to advantage.
The Salón de Embajadores adjoins the Court of the Maidens. This was the
Hall of the Ambassadors. It is about thirty-three feet square. The dome
is of the _media naranja_ or 'half orange' shape, the favourite design
of the Moorish architects. On the walls are portraits of the monarchs of
Spain. This is the most sumptuous of the salons of the Alcázar; the
walls veritably dazzle the spectator with their richness of colouring.
Not one inch of space on the arches, walls and doorways is left without
an ornate pattern. The doors of the salon are massive and finely
decorated. In this hall Charles V. was married to Isabella of Portugal.
The Comedor, or dining-room, opens out of the Hall of Ambassadors on the
west side. We find in this room the latest restorations of the palace.
Here, on September 21, 1848, was born the Infanta Doña Maria Isabel de
Orleans y Borbón, Condesa de Paris. The bedroom of Isabella the Catholic
adjoins the Comedor.
Returning to the Hall of the Ambassadors, we enter the room of Philip
II., and pass through it to the small Patio de las Muñecas. Note the
pigmy figures in the ornamentation, which give the name of the Dolls'
Court to this chamber. The upper parts of the gallery are modern, and
were constructed in the years 1855 and 1856, at the time of the last
extensive restoration of the Alcázar.
The Salón of the Princes, approached from the Patio de las Muñecas, is a
spacious hall, in the mixed styles of the _Mudéjar_ and the plateresque.
The Dormitory of the Moorish Kings should be inspected. Then cross the
Patio de las Doncellas to the Salón de Carlos V. This chamber has a
remarkably fine ceiling, and beautiful decorations of _azulejos_, made
by Cristobal de Augusta, an Italian, who worked in Triana in 1577. From
the salon we may enter the room of Maria de Padilla.
The upper apartments of the Alcázar can be viewed by special permission.
I would strongly urge the visitor to obtain this permission. If he
applies to the _conserje_ at the Palace of Pedro, he will be informed
that admission is impossible without an order from the King of Spain.
Such was my experience. I then asked for an order at the offices in the
Patio de las Banderas, but the courteous officials were firm in their
refusal, stating that 'no one but the King can give permission to visit
the upper part of the Alcázar.' Still determined, I ventured to address
His Majesty by letter, and in a few days I received a reply from the
Intendencia General de la Real Casa y Patrimonio at Madrid. The letter
was written by the royal secretary, and is a beautiful example of the
ornate caligraphy in which educated Spaniards delight. I was told that
'the Señor Marqués de Irún, Alcaide of the Reales Alcázares, would grant
me the desired permission.'
At the hotel I inquired where the Marqués de Irún resided. No one knew.
My host searched through a Seville directory. The name of the Marqués de
Irún was not to be found in its pages. Finally, armed with the letter
from the royal palace, I presented myself at the offices in the Patio de
las Banderas, and displayed the missive.
The effect was magical. The officials were even more polite than before.
One of them wrote a note, which he asked me to give to the _conserje_,
and I was bowed out of the office. The _conserje_ in the Patio de la
Monteria scanned the open-sesame. And at last I gained entrance to the
upper apartments of the Royal Alcázar.
The visitor who has secured his permit will be rewarded. There is much
to see in these chambers. Notice, first of all, the fine staircase
constructed at the end of the sixteenth century. The seventeenth-century
tapestries in the salons are magnificent examples of this art. Most of
the subjects are Dutch; some are copies of pictures by David Teniers. In
the first hall, at the head of the principal staircase, there is some
handsome artesonada ceiling decoration of the fifteenth century.
In the Oratory of the Catholic Kings there is the most notable specimen
of ceramic art to be seen in Spain. It is a lovely retablo of
_azulejos_, designed by Franciso Niculoso, an Italian, in 1504. Niculoso
introduced this kind of _azulejo_ painting into Seville. The central
picture represents the Visitation of the Virgin to St. Isabella. A
smaller subject is the Annunciation, and there is a curious genealogical
tree of the Saviour. The decorations are fantastic.
In the Comedor there is a splendid laced ceiling of _Mudéjar_
workmanship, dating from the fifteenth century. The walls are covered
with interesting tapestry pictures.
Step on to the balcony of the Hall of the Ambassadors, and admire the
roofing, the columns, and wealth of Oriental ornamentation. In the rooms
of the Infantas there are _Mudéjar_ ceilings of the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries. The portraits of princes and other royal personages
are not of much artistic importance. There is a picture by Goya, a very
spirited portrait of Doña Maria, wife of Don Carlos IV. Goya was the
last of the great painters of Spain. A number of his works are in a
gallery of the Prado Museum at Madrid, but very few of his paintings are
preserved in Seville. This example in the Alcázar deserves the visitor's
notice.
One of the most interesting apartments on the upper floors of the royal
palace is the bedroom of Pedro el Cruel. The _dormitorio_ is sumptuous
with _Mudéjar_ decorations of the sixteenth century. Near the doorway
are four heads painted upon the wall. They are the heads of four
disloyal justices who incurred the anger of their sovereign, and were
condemned to death. The paintings throw a light upon the character of
Pedro, who, no doubt, surveyed them with satisfaction whenever he
entered the chamber. It is probable that the King feared assassination,
for from this part of the palace there is a staircase descending to the
quarters formerly occupied by the guards and royal bowmen. The story
runs that Pedro had this stairway made in order to communicate with his
faithful servant Juan Diente, a famous marksman with the bow.
In the Dormitory of Queen Isabel there is a copy of Murillo's _Ecce
Homo_, and various portraits of monarchs. The Salón Azul (Blue Room) is
so named on account of the colour of its silk tapestries. The pastel
paintings in this apartment are by A. Muraton, representing Queen Doña
Isabel, the Infanta Doña Isabel, King Alfonso XII., and the Marquesa de
Novaliches. There are also eighteen miniatures painted upon ivory.
The modern bedroom has a Coronation of the Virgin, the work of Vicente
López, a copy of a Murillo, and another of Raphael's Holy Family.
Let us saunter now in the sunny gardens of the Alcázar. We can reach
them through the Apeadero, and by the steps leading from the tank at the
entrance. The reservoir is full of carp, some of them of corpulent
proportions. A few small fish may be seen basking near the surface of
the water, but the bigger and warier carp do not often show themselves.
Roses cluster about the steps, and twine on all the railings. We come to
a tree-grown court, with a gallery running on one side, and an arched
entrance to the Baths of Maria de Padilla. This garden is called El
Jardin del Crucero. The underground bath is cool, and it is a rest to
the eyes to escape for a few minutes from the dazzling sunlight of the
gardens. Here the lovely Maria, faithful mistress of the ferocious
Pedro, was wont to bathe in warm weather.
To show their homage to the monarch's consort, the chivalrous courtiers
came hither when the fair bather had taken her bath, and drank of the
water in which she had washed her white limbs. It is said that these
devoted servitors used sometimes to carry away some of the water in
vessels 'to drink it with enjoyment.'
Pedro el Cruel, of all the Christian sovereigns who lived in the
Alcázar, was the most attached to the palace. He lavished money upon the
building of the apartments which we have just inspected, and employed
the cleverest _Mudéjar_ designers and craftsmen. In the Hall of Justice
he heard charges against criminal offenders; in the gorgeous salons he
received illustrious guests, discoursed with his officers, and played at
draughts with his courtiers. His image arises before the imagination as
we stray under the lemon and orange trees of his quaint and charming
pleasure-grounds. Coming to the throne in his sixteenth year, Don Pedro
decided upon making Seville his capital.
We have read in the historical sections of our account of the city how
he earned the title of 'El Cruel.' But the story of his treachery
towards his half-brothers has not been related.
Don Fadrique, Master of the Order of Santiago, and half-brother of Pedro
el Cruel, having confessed allegiance to the King, came one day to
Seville, after a campaign with rebels in Murcia. The Master of Santiago
went to the Alcázar with the intention of paying a visit to his
half-brother, the King. Pedro was playing at backgammon in his private
apartment of the palace when Don Fadrique came to him.
The monarch received his general with genial courtesies, and bade him
stay in the Alcázar. Leaving Pedro for a while, the Master went to the
rooms of Maria de Padilla. He found her agitated and pale, but the
sadness of her beautiful countenance did not cause him to suspect what
lay upon her mind. Maria knew that Pedro longed to rid himself of all
possible claimants to the throne. His eldest half-brother Enrique was in
France, plotting against the Castilian throne. Pedro still dreaded a
rising under Fadrique. He apparently doubted his professed fealty, and
he had planned his murder. It is said that the Master of Santiago
received hints of the fate that awaited him. But he returned to the
quarters of the King, who was in company with several members of his
court.
Pedro had shut himself in an inner room, which had a wicket to it. From
the wicket he shouted to his soldiers: 'Kill the Master of Santiago!'
The bowmen obeyed. Fadrique drew his sword and made a stand, but he was
soon overpowered, and struck down by blows on the head. The Master's
servants were next seized and slaughtered. One of the train ran to the
room of Maria de Padilla, pursued by his assailants, and threw himself
behind Doña Beatrice, one of Maria's daughters. Pedro was among the
pursuers. He tore the man from the arms of Beatrice, stabbed him, and
gave him into the hands of his assassins. Returning to the room where
Don Fadrique was expiring, Pedro saw that his half-brother was still
breathing. Drawing his dagger, the King gave it to an attendant, and
commanded him to kill the Master outright.
During the siege of Seville by Fernando el Santo, the fortified palace
was the chief point of attack. The massive walls of the Alcázar long
resisted the assault of the besiegers. But the beleaguered Moors were at
length compelled to offer surrender to the knights of the Cross. On the
day of St. Clement the gates were thrown open, and San Fernando rode
into the courtyard. In the King's hand was a sword; on his saddle the
ivory image of the Holy Virgin. By his side rode Don Garcia de Varga and
his brother Don Diego, the Condé Lorenzo, Pelago, and other brave
cavaliers. The Khalif of the Alcázar escaped by the gate near the
Hospital del Sangre. Henceforward, the palace was to be the residence of
the kings of Castile.
In 1379 Juan I. lived in the Alcázar. The King ascended the throne
without opposition. Trouble arose soon with Portugal, and Juan marched
at the head of thirty-four thousand soldiers into the enemy's territory.
The Portuguese had a small force of only ten thousand men, including a
few Englishmen. Near the village of Aljubarrota the armies met. There
was a great battle, in which the Portuguese troops fought valiantly, and
drove back the invaders.
Don Juan was ill and weak during the engagement. He was carried on a
litter by his knights, and in the retreat, the King was put on a mule,
and hurried from the scene of action to the Tagus. Here the monarch
embarked in a small boat for Lisbon, whence he returned to Seville to
mourn his defeat in the seclusion of the Alcázar.
Isabel and Fernando often sought the tranquil paths of this garden. The
Catholic Queen and her Consort lived here in great state, in the palmy
days of Seville, dispensing justice, listening to the counsels of
Torquemada and the officers of the Holy Inquisition, and consulting with
Columbus regarding the expansion of their realm and the development of
trade with the New World. Many were the hours passed by the blue-eyed,
fair-haired Queen in the private chapel.
The pious Philip II. came here, though he preferred his mountain palace
of the Escorial. He ordered the portraits of the Kings of Spain to be
painted in the Hall of the Ambassadors. As we have read, Philip incurred
the resentment of the Sevillian merchants by his confiscation of their
ingots. But the prelates and clergy of the city honoured the sovereign,
who always supported the Church and favoured the priests. In his reign
the Primate of Spain was almost as wealthy as the Pope. The Archbishop
of Seville received an income of eighty thousand ducats a year.
Philip spent his time at the Alcázar in his usual daily labours, writing
like a clerk in his private room until the small hours of the morning.
Every morning he attended Mass. The King lived simply, for he feared the
gout. But in spite of this form of frugality, Philip spent his revenue
freely in maintaining a large household. In his retinue there were
fifteen hundred persons, including forty pages, all of noble family.
In the Queen's train there were twenty-six ladies-in-waiting, and four
physicians were in constant attendance on Her Majesty. We may picture
Philip moodily roaming in the gardens, dressed in black velvet, with a
plumed cap. From his neck was suspended the fine jewel of the Golden
Fleece. He wore sober clothes, and changed his suits once every month
for new ones. His wear, like the cast of his mind, was sombre. A dread
of society possessed the King, and in his later days he became more
taciturn and morose.
'I am absolute King,' was the boast of the despotic Philip. His ambition
was to attain power, to extend his kingdom beyond the seas, and to crush
out heresy. Yet Tennyson's love-dazzled Mary is made to ask, as she
gazes upon the face of the Spanish King, in a miniature painting:
'Is this the face of one who plays the tyrant?
Peruse it; is it not goodly, ay, and gentle?'
These gardens evoke reflections upon the ever-changing fate of Spain. We
gaze at relics of the Moors, and remember the eight hundred years of
that sanguinary history of the expulsion of the infidels. Yet everywhere
there are traces of that mighty civilisation built up by Morisco
knowledge and industry. The _Mudéjar_ has touched the palace and the
gardens with his magic wand. Fernando, Pedro, Philip, Carlos--all the
Catholic sovereigns--preserved the Moorish style of decoration, and
borrowed from the art of the hated race.
Passing under a handsome gateway, represented in one of our
illustrations, we come to a fountain surrounded by a tiled pavement, and
overshadowed by trees. Before us is the Pavilion of Carlos Quinto, with
a fine ceiling and _azulejos_. This summer-house was built by Juan
Hernandez in 1543. Turn to the left, and inspect the archway in the
wall, and the curious mural paintings. We may then retrace our steps to
the pavilion, and pass another tank and a grotto till we reach the maze
and a tangled garden beyond it. This is the Garden of the Labyrinth.
Further, we may not ramble.
In 1626 a theatre stood in the large _patio_ near the Puerta del León,
by which gate we must leave the Alcázar. The playhouse was of oval form,
with three balconies, and one part of the theatre was reserved for
ladies. The travelling actors who visited Seville preferred this theatre
to any other in the city, as is shown by the archives of the palace. In
the year 1691 the theatre was entirely destroyed by a great fire, and
not a stone of the old building remains.
The singular mingling of Christian and Moorish architecture and
adornment in the modern Alcázar is characteristic of Seville. We find
the same mixture of styles in the Casa Pilatos and in other mansions of
the city. Even the railway station at the termination of the Córdova
line affords an example of the perpetuation of Morisco design and
decoration. It is this Moorish influence that lends a strange interest
to Seville. Some writers have declared that these mixed styles of
architecture are anomalous. There is certainly an air of the grotesque
in the combination of _Mudéjar_ windows, cusped arches, columns, and
_azulejos_, and Renaissance and Gothic features. But despite the element
of incongruity, the effect is often pleasing, while the mingling of the
styles is especially interesting from the historical point of view.
In our inspection of the Sevillian monuments we are able to estimate the
enormous sway that the Moors exercised upon the Andalusian mind. That
influence will probably endure for very many centuries to come.
Spaniards may abhor the faith of Allah, and detest the children of
Mahomet; but they have never refused to learn the arts of the Moors, nor
to apply them to the building of sacred and secular edifices. In the
poorest villages of Southern Spain we rarely fail to notice some trace
or another of the Moorish builder.
[Illustration: In the Garden of the Alcázar.]
The Orientalism of the Alcázar remains in spite of the pseudo-Moorish
restorations and the Renaissance additions. It is perhaps an atmosphere,
a suggestion, rather than the reality. Still, the pile is a very
remarkable monument, and every stone of it has its tale to tell of
memorable scenes and great events. One is tempted to linger hour after
hour in the dreamy gardens, watching the gaudy butterflies and the
peering, green lizards, and thinking of the bygone greatness of Seville.
Let us conjure one more illustrious figure to the view before we quit
the palace grounds. Here the Emperor Charles V. roamed with his young
bride, Isabella of Portugal. The portraits of Charles show a well-knit
figure, and a good forehead, with the projecting lower jaw
characteristic of his family. He was fond of music, and was accounted
well cultured. Mr. Edward Armstrong tells us, however, in his _Emperor
Charles V._, that the sovereign was a 'singularly bad linguist.' He knew
only a few words of Spanish after he had ruled Castile and Aragon for
two years. 'French was his natural language, but he neither spoke nor
wrote it with any elegance.' The Emperor's knowledge of theology was
scanty; and though he was a stern defender of the Catholic faith, he
could scarcely read the Vulgate.
Isabella was but twenty-three years of age at the time of her marriage
with Charles. She was, however, no child. Her intelligence was quick.
The Princess was short, spare in body, with a clear white skin. The
wedding was celebrated in Seville, in March 1526. For the honeymoon the
Emperor and his bride visited Córdova and Granada.
Charles liked the seclusion of his palace in Seville. 'Not greedy of
territory, but most greedy of peace and quiet,' was the description of
the monarch by Marcantonio Contarini, in 1536. He was strongly attached
to his wife; he was fond of children, and kept pet animals, 'including a
parrot and two Indian cats.' The Emperor was interested in gardening,
and he introduced the carnation into Spain. At table he was a glutton,
and unable to exercise self-control over his greedy appetite. It was
said that Charles five times drained a flagon, containing nearly a quart
of Rhenish wine, during a single meal. We need not be surprised that he
suffered from severe attacks of gout. Yet he would not forego the
pleasures of the table, and when his physician warned him that beer was
injurious to his constitution, the Emperor refused to give up drinking
it.
In dress Charles was economical. He went to Italy in a shabby suit,
hoping by his example to check the tendency to extravagance displayed by
his courtiers and the nobles of Spain. His servants were sometimes in
tattered clothes.
'A fine taste for art seemed inborn in Charles,' writes Mr. Armstrong.
'Before he ever set foot in Italy he had summoned Italian architects and
sculptors to build the splendid Renaissance palace at Granada, which was
destined to remain unfinished.... Music was a passion from boyhood. The
Emperor's choir was the best in Europe. To his choristers he was most
generous, for when their voices broke he would educate them for three
years, and afterwards, if they recovered voice, he would give them the
preference for places in his chapel.'