Sevilleis the most Spanish of the cities of Spain. On her white walls the sunlight plays perpetually, the air is laden with the scent of the orange, the sound of the guitar and castanets is heard continually in the narrow streets. This is the South of romance, the South of which northerners dream and towards which so many of them are drawn by an irresistible fascination. The cities of Leon and Castile are grim and Gothic. Cordova is Moorish; but Seville is not essentially one nor the other, but presents that blending of both styles which makes her typical, which stands for all that Spain means to the average foreigner.
Seville lives. Cordova is dead, and Granada broods over her past. These are cemeteries of a vanished civilisation. Alone among the ancient seats of Moorish dominion, Seville has maintained her prosperity. Her wharves, as in the days of Al Mansûr, are still the resort of sailors from many lands. There is still wealth in her palaces and genius in her schools. To-day she holds the firstplace in native art, and Garcia y Ramos, Sanchez Perrier, Jimenez Aranda, and Bilbao not unworthily continue the traditions of Murillo and Zurbarán.
The city is Moorish, but informed throughout with the spirit of Spain. In Cordova the Spaniard seems a stranger; in Seville he has assimilated and adapted all that was bequeathed by his onetime rulers till you might think the place had always been his. It is as though the glowing metal of Andalusian life and temper had been poured into a mould made expressly by other hands to receive it. Thus Seville has not died nor decayed like her rivals. Her vitality intoxicates the northerner. Valdés says, “Seville has ever been for me the symbol of light, the city of love and joy.”
In my book, “Moorish Remains in Spain,” I have sketched the history of the city and briefly referred to its importance under the Roman sway. With the few monuments remaining from that time I do not purpose dealing separately—incorporated as they have been, for the most part, with works of more recent construction. Nor has Roman influence left very profound traces in Seville, any more than in the rest of Spain. Señor Rafael Contreras justly remarks that Romancivilisation made no deep impression on the country or the people. “We have in Spain,” he continues, “aqueducts, bridges, circuses, baths, roads, vases, urns, milliaria, statues, and jewellery. Specimens are still found, but, strictly speaking, art with us has never been either Roman or Greek.” And Seville, in particular, even during the Roman occupation, was rather a Punic than a Latin town. As to the successors of the Cæsars—the Visigoths—to them can only be ascribed a few capitals and stone ornaments, roughly executed in the Byzantine style. These, like the Roman remains, were used by the Moors in the construction of those buildings that have determined the physiognomy of Seville.
Sevillewas not among the spoils of Tarik, conqueror at the Guadalete. That general having directed his march upon Toledo, it was reserved to his superior officer, Musa Ben Nosseyr, to subdue the proudest city of Bætica. The citizens held out for a month and then retired upon Beja in Alemtejo. The Arabian commander left a garrison in the city, henceforward to be known for five hundred and thirty-six years as Ishbiliyah, and pushed forward to Merida. The Sevillians took advantage of his absence to shake off his yoke, assisted by the people of Beja and Niebla. Their triumph was short lived. Abdelasis, son of Musa, fell upon them like a thunderbolt, extinguished the rising in blood, and made the city the seat of government of the newly acquired provinces.
The interesting personality and tragic fate of Seville’s first Viceroy have made the site of his residence a question of some importance. It was formerly believed that he occupied the Acropolisor Citadel, supposed then to be covered by the Alcazar. The researches of Señores Gayangos and Madrazo have made it plain, however, that he established his headquarters in a church which had been dedicated by the sister of St Isidore to the martyrs Rufina and Justa, now amalgamated with the convent of La Trinidad. Adjacent to this building Abdelasis erected a mosque; and it was within its walls, while reciting the first surah of the Koran, that he was assassinated by the emissaries of the Khalif of Damascus—death being a not uncommon reward in the Middle Ages for too brilliant military services rendered to one’s sovereign.
The seat of government was transferred, soon after the murder of the son of Musa, to Cordova, and Seville sank for a time to a subsidiary rank. The various cities of Andalusia were allotted by the governor Abdelmelic among the different Syrian peoples who had flocked over on the news of the conquest; and Ishbiliyah, according to Señor de Madrazo, was assigned to the citizens of Horns, the classic Emesa. Owing to intermarriage between the conquerors and the natives, the distinction between the Moslems according to the places of origin of these early settlers was soon lost in that drawn between the pure-blooded Arabsand the Muwallads or half-breeds. In the meantime the germs of Arabian culture had fallen upon a kindly soil, and a new school of art and letters was in process of formation in Spain. The imposing monuments of Roman, Greek, and Byzantine civilisation, which the victorious hosts of Islam found ever in their path, were not without influence upon their conceptions of the beautiful in form. The fusion of the Hispano-Goths and Arabs likewise tended to produce a commingling of spirit, and ultimately to give birth to an art and a culture racy of the soil. “According to all contemporary writers,” says Señor Rafael Contreras, “it is beyond all doubt that the style which the artists of the Renaissance called Moorish (in the sense of originating in Northern Africa) was never anything of the sort. The details so much admired on account of their richness, the vaultings and the arched hollows practised in the walls, the festoons of the arches, thecommarajiasandalicates, were Spanish works finer and more delicate than those of the East. The root was originally in Arabia, but it was happily transplanted to Spain, where blossomed that beautiful flower which diffuses its perfume after a lapse of seven centuries.”
Under the Western Khalifate, Seville flourishedin spite of the assaults and internecine warfare of which it was frequently the theatre. When in 888 Andalusia became temporarily split up into several nominally independent states, the city acknowledged the sway of Ibrahim Ibn Hajjaj. The chronicler Ben Hayán, often quoted by Señor de Madrazo, describes this prince as keeping up imperial state and riding forth attended by five hundred horsemen. He ventured to assume thetiraz, the official garb of the Amirs of Cordova. To his court flocked the poets, the singers, and the wise men of Islam. Of him it was written, “In all the West I find no right noble man save Ibrahim, but he is nobility itself. When one has known the delight of living with him, to dwell in any other land is misery.” Flattery did not blind the sagacious Ibn Hajjaj to the insecurity of his position, and he bowed before the rising star of the new Khalifa, Abd-er-Rahman III. In 913 Ishbiliyah opened her gates to that powerful ruler and again became subject to Cordova. The city lost nothing by its timely submission. The generous and beneficent Khalifa narrowed and deepened the channel of the Guadalquivir, thus rendering it navigable. He introduced the palm tree from Africa, planted gardens, and adorned the city with splendidedifices. Much of the splendour of the Court of Cordova was reflected on Seville, which certainly rivalled the capital as a seat of learning. Among its citizens was Abu Omar Ahmed Ben Abdallah, surnamedEl Begior “the Sage,” the author of an encyclopædia of sciences, which was long esteemed as a work of marvellous erudition. According to Condé, Abdallah was frequently consulted by the magistrates, even in his early youth, in affairs of the gravest import.
The public edifices of the Pearl of Andalusia were no doubt worthy of its fame as a home of wisdom and culture. In addition to the mosque built by Abdelasis, near or on the spot where the convent of La Trinidad now stands, a notable ornament of the city was the mosque raised on the site of the basilica of St Vincent—immortalised by several memorable Councils. “But who,” asks Señor de Madrazo, “would be capable to-day of describing this edifice? Nothing of it remains except the memory of the place where it stood. Other structures, ampler and more majestic, replaced it when, under the Almoravides and Almohades, Seville recovered its rank as an independent kingdom. Let us content ourselves with recording that the principal mosque, built at the same time as and on the model of that ofCordova, although on a smaller and less sumptuous scale, was situated on the site of the existing Cathedral, and that in the ninth century it was burnt by the Normans. In consequence it is impossible to say if the great horseshoe arches which occur in the cloister of the Cathedral are works earlier or later than that event. It does not appear probable that in the time of the Khalifs the mosque of Seville could have had the considerable dimensions suggested by the northern boundary of thepatio de los naranjos. That line is 330 Castilian feet, which would give the mosque, extending from north to south, a length about double, the breadth of the atrium included—unlikely dimensions for a temple which, compared with the Jama of Cordova, was unquestionably of the second class. No one knows who ordered the construction of the primitive mosque of Seville.”
The irruption of the Normans, one of the results of which was the demolition of this edifice, took place in 859. The pirates were afterwards defeated off the coast of Murcia by the Moorish squadron, and made sail for Catalonia. A serious descent had taken place in 844. Lisbon was the first city to fall a victim to the Northmen, whom we next hear of at Cadiz and at Sidonia, wherethey defeated the Khalifa’s troops in a pitched battle. Fierce fighting took place before the walls of Ishbiliyah, the invaders being uniformly victorious. Laden with the richest booty, they at length retired overland to Lisbon, where they took to their ships. They not only destroyed the mosque of Seville, but threw down the city walls, which dated from Roman times. These were repaired by Abd-er-Rahman II., to be partially demolished again by Abd-er-Rahman III. on his triumphal entry into the amirate of Ibrahim Ibn Hajjaj.
The subjection of Seville to the yoke of the Khalifs of Cordova was, unhappily for the city and for Islam generally, not of long duration. The mighty Wizir, Al Mansûr, restored the waning power of the Crescent and drove back the Christians into the mountain fastnesses of the North. But the collapse of the Western Khalifate had been postponed, not averted. This Al Mansûr well knew. On his deathbed he reproached his son for yielding to unmanly tears, saying, “This is to me a signal of the approaching decay of this empire.” His prediction did not long await fulfilment. In 1009, seven years after his death, his second son, Abd-er-Rahman Sanjul, had the audacity to proclaim himself the Khalif Hisham’s heir. The empire became at once resolved into its component parts. On all sides the kadis and governors revolted. Independent amirates were set up in all the considerable towns. At Ishbiliyah the shrewd and powerful kadi, Mohammed Ben Abbad, perceived his opportunity, but contrived to excuse his ambition by a specious pretence of legality. An impostor, impersonating the legitimate Khalifa, Hisham, appeared on the troubled scene. Ben Abbad espoused his cause and pretended to govern the city in his name. His power firmly established, the kadi announced that the Khalifa was dead and had designated him as his lawful successor. For the second time, Seville rose to the dignity of an independent state.
The Abbadites were a splendour-loving race. Their Court was extolled by Arabian writers as rivalling that of the Abbasside sultans. Under their rule the city waxed every year more beautiful, more prosperous. Patrons of art and letters, the amirs were vigorous and capable sovereigns, and in all Musulman Spain no state was more powerful than theirs, except Toledo. The second monarch of the dynasty, Abu Amru Abbad, better known as Mo’temid, was a mighty warrior. He reduced Algarve and took Cordova. When notengaged in martial exploits he took delight in composing verses, in the society of talented men, and in the contemplation of the garden of his enemies’ heads, which he had laid out at the door of his palace. He was succeeded in 1069 by his son Abul-Kasim Mohammed, a native of Beja.
The Crescent was waning. All Al Mansûr’s conquests had been recovered by the Christians. Toledo fell before the arms of Alfonso III. The Castilians overran Portugal and penetrated into Andalusia. The Amir of Ishbiliyah took the only course open to him at the moment, and cultivated the friendship of the Castilian king. He consented to the removal of the body of St Isidore from Italica to Leon, and gave his daughter Zayda in a sort of left-handed marriage to Alfonso III. As the Christian king was already the husband of Queen Constancia, and Zayda’s dowry consisted of the most valuable conquests of the Amir Mut’adid, this transaction did not reflect much credit on either party. But it purchased for Seville a period of peace and security, during which its inhabitants became hopelessly enervated by luxury and ease.
The Abbadite sovereigns have left but few traces on the city which they did so much toembellish and improve. To them, however, may be ascribed the foundation of the Alcazar. Such at least is the opinion of Señor de Madrazo. In the horseshoe arches of the Salón de los Embajadores with their rich Corinthian capitals—on which the names of different Khalifas are inscribed—we detect a resemblance to the mosque of Cordova, and recognise the early Saracenic style, unaffected by African, or properly Moorish, influence. To the same period and school of architecture, Señor de Madrazo attributes the ornate arcading of the narrow staircase leading from the entrance court to near the balcony of the chapel; and the three arches with capitals in the abandoned apartment adjoining the Salón de los Principes. The ultra-semicircular curve of the arch occurs very rarely in later or true Moorish architecture.
The Moslem conquerors had, in the majority of cases, converted to their use the Christian churches in the cities they occupied. Many of the mosques that adorned Ishbiliyah during the reign of the race of Abbad had been adapted in this way, the lines of pillars being readjusted in most cases to give the structure that south-easterly direction that the law of Islam required. Traces of these Abbadite mosques remain in the churches of SanJuan Bautista and San Salvador. On the wall of the former was found an inscription which has been thus translated by Don Pascual de Gayangos: “In the name of the clement and merciful Allah. May the blessing of Allah be on Mohammed, the seal of the Prophets. The Princess and august mother of Er-Rashid Abu-l-hosaya Obayd’ allah, son of Mut’amid Abu-l-Kasim Mohammed Ben Abbad (may Allah make his empire and power lasting, as well as the glory of both!), ordered this minaret to be raised in her mosque (which may Allah preserve!), awaiting the abundance of His rewards; and the work was finished, with the help of Allah, by the hand of the Wizir and Katib, the Amir Abu-l-Kasim Ben Battah (may Allah be propitious to me!), in the moon of Shaaban, in the year 478.”
The site of the present collegiate church of San Salvador was occupied by a mosque, which was used by the Moors for a considerable time after the Christian conquest, and preserved its form down to the year 1669. An inscription on white marble relates that a minaret was constructed in the year 1080, by Mut’amid Ben Abbad, that “the calling to prayer might not be interrupted.”
The reign of the Abbadites was brought to a close by the advent of the Almoravides (a wordallied toMarabut), who, at the invitation of the Andalusian amirs, invaded Spain in the last quarter of the eleventh century. It was a story common enough in history. The Africans came at first as the friends and allies of the Spanish Arabs, and effectually stemmed the tide of Christian successes; but in 1091, Yusuf, the Almoravide leader, annexed Ishbiliyah and all Andalusia to his vast empire. The city became a mere provincial centre, the appanage of the Berber monarch. Mo’temid, loaded with chains, was transported to Africa, where he died in 1095, having reigned as amir twenty-seven years.
The Almoravides lived by the sword and perished by the sword. Perpetually engaged in warfare, among themselves or with the Christians, they left no deep impress on the character of Seville or of Andalusia generally. With them the student of the arts in Spain has little concern. They burst like a tornado over the land, destroying much, creating nothing. Little more than half-a-century had passed since the downfall of the Abbadites, when the star of the Almoravides paled before the rising crescent of the Almohades or Al Muwahedun. The new sectaries, as fierce as their predecessors, but more indomitable and austere, wrested all Barbary from the descendantsof Tashrin and annexed Ishbiliyah to their empire in 1146.
The reign of the Almohades is the most interesting period in the history of the city. It was marked by the foundation of Seville’s most important existing edifices, and by the introduction of a new style of architecture. Hitherto, what is loosely called Moorish art, had been native Andalusian art, following Saracenic or Syrian ideals. Of this first period, the Mezquita at Cordova is the finest monument. Seville is peculiarly the city of the second, or true, Moorish period. Byzantine and Oriental influences disappeared and were supplanted by the African or, more properly, Berber, character. The new conquerors of Andalusia were a rude, hardy race, and we find something virile and coarse in their architecture. “Beside the Giralda of Seville,” remarks Herr Karl Eugen Schmidt, “the columns of the mosque of Cordova seem small; the pretty halls of the Alhambra have something weak and feminine.” The weakness of the Almohade builders, as is usually the case with imperfectly civilised peoples, lay in an excessive fondness for ornamentation. Señor de Madrazo’s criticism, though severe, is, on the whole, just. While admitting the beauty of certain of their innovations, such as the stalactited dome (afterwards carried out with so much effect at Granada) and the pointed arch, he goes on to say, “The Almohade architecture displays that debased taste which is imitative rather than instinctive, and which creates only by exaggerating forms to a degree inconsistent with the design—differing from the Mudejar work of the thirteenth to the fifteenth centuries, which reveals an instinctive feeling for the beautiful in ornament, which never loses sight of the graceful, the elegant, and the bold, and which consequently never betrays any aberration. The Almohade style, in short, at once manifests the vigour of the barbarian civilised by conquest; the Mudejar style has the enduring character of the works of a man of taste, wise in good and evil fortune; both are the faithful expression of the culture of peoples of different origins and aptitudes.” Elsewhere the same authority observes, “It is certain that the innovation characteristic of Musulman architecture in Spain in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, cannot be explained as a natural mutation from the Arabic art of the Khalifate, or as a prelude to the art of Granada, because there is very little similarity between the style called secondary or Moorish and the Arab-Byzantine and Andalusian; while, on the other hand, it is evidentthat the Saracenic monuments of Fez and Morocco, of the reigns of Yusuf Ben Tashfin, Abdul Ben Ali, Al Mansûr, and Nasr, partake of the character of the ornamentation introduced by the Almohades into Spain.”
The most important example of this style is the Giralda, now adjacent to the magnificent Christian cathedral which was reared in later days on the foundations of the great mosque. Señor de Madrazo has reconstructed for us the general form and aspect of the finest monument of Almohade piety. The mosque replaced that which had been destroyed by the Normans, and appears to have embodied some part of the original structure, to judge from the horseshoe arches still to be seen in the Claustro de la Granada. The work was begun by order of Yusuf, the son of Abd-er-Rahman, the founder of the dynasty. The mosque formed a rectangle, extending from north to south, and surrounded by cloisters and courtyards. The interior was divided into longitudinal naves by a series of marble columns, which supported an adorned ceiling of carved and painted wood. Themihrab, or sanctuary, would have been at the southern extremity, after the Syrian custom, it taking the Spanish Muslims some time to realise that Mecca lay east rather thansouth of Andalusia. The mosque would also have contained amaksurrah, or vestibule, for the imam and his officials, thenimbar, or pulpit, for the sovereign, and the tribune for the preacher. In the northern court was the existing fountain for ablutions, surmounted by a cupola, and surrounded by orange and palm-trees. The eastern court was known as the Court of the Elms. In all probability, attached to the sacred edifice, was theturbeh, or tomb of the founder.
The Giralda is not only the most important and famous of minarets, but is among the three or four most remarkable towers in the world. It is more to Seville than Giotto’s campanile to Florence; it rivals in fame the now vanished campanile of St Mark’s. Unlike similar edifices in Egypt and Syria, minarets among the western Moslems were built strong and massive, rather than slender and elegant. The Giralda,” says Herr Schmidt, “is one of the strongest buildings in the world, and few of our Christian church towers could have withstood so successfully the lightning and the earthquake.”
The Giralda is quadrangular in section, and covers a space of 13.60 square metres. The architect—whose name is variously spelt Gever, Hever, and Djabir—is said to have used quantities of Romanremains and statuary as a base for the foundations. The thickness of the wall at the base is nine feet, but it increases with the height, the interior space narrowing accordingly. The lower part of the tower is of stone, the upper part of brick. At a height of about 15 metres above the ground begin those decorations in stone which lend such elegance and beauty to this stout structure. They consist in vertical series of windows—mostlyajimecesor twin-windows—some with the horseshoe, others the pointed arch, flanked on either side by broad vertical bands of beautiful stone tracery, resembling trellis-work. The windows are enclosed in arches which exhibit considerable diversity of design. The decoration as a whole is harmonious and beautiful.
The Moorish tower only reaches to a height of 70 metres. The remaining portion, reaching upwards for another 25 metres, is of Christian workmanship. Before this was added, the tower appears to have been crowned, like most West African minarets, by a small pinnacle or turret. This supported four balls or apples of gilded copper, one of which was so large that the gates of Seville had to be widened that it might be brought into the city. The iron bar which supported the balls weighed about ten hundredweights, andthe whole was cast by a Sicilian Arab named Abu Leyth, at a cost of £50,000 sterling. We owe these particulars to a Mohammedan writer of the period, and his accuracy was confirmed in 1395, when the balls, having been thrown to the ground by an earthquake, were carefully weighed and examined.
The upper or newer part of the Giralda was built by Fernando Ruiz in 1568. Despite its Doric and Ionic columns and Renaissance style, it does not mar the beauty and harmony of the whole building, and is itself a remarkably graceful work. The entablature of the second stage or storey bears the wordsTurris fortissima Nomen Domini. The whole fabric is surmounted by the bronze statue of Faith, executed by Bartolomé Morel in 1568. It stands fourteen feet high, and weighs twenty-five hundredweights, yet so wonderful is the workmanship that it turns with every breath of the wind. Hence the name applied to the whole tower—Giralda—fromque gira, “which turns.” The figure wears a Roman helmet. The right hand clasps the labarum of Constantine, and the left a palm branch symbolical of victory.
The Giralda is ascended by means of thirty-five inclined planes, up which a horse might be ridden with ease to the very top. The variouscuerposor stages of the ascent are all named. The Cuerpo de Campanas is named after its fine peal of bells. The bell named Santa Maria was hung in 1588 by order of the Archbishop Gonzalo de Mena. It cost ten thousand ducats, and weighs eighteen tons. The Cuerpo de Azucenas (or of the lilies) is so named after its urns with floral decorations in ironwork. El Cuerpo del Reloj (clock tower) contains a clock partly constructed in 1765 by the monk José Cordero, with pieces of another placed here in 1400 in the presence of Don Enrique III.—the first tower-clock set up in Spain. The Cuerpos de Estrellas (stars) and de las Corambolas (billiard-balls) are named after the predominant devices in their schemes of decoration.
The highest platform of the Giralda affords, as might be expected, a very extensive view. On the whole, the prospect is disappointing. The neighbourhood of Seville is not beautiful, nor are there any very notable sites or natural features included within the panorama. Standing below Morel’s great statue, however, and gazing down upon the city, interesting considerations naturally present themselves. That the figure of Christian faith should thus be reared on the summit of a building specially intended to stimulate the zeal and to excite the devotion of the followers of Islam is a reflection calculated to give profound satisfaction to the devout Spaniard. The whimsical philosopher may also find an appropriateness in the handiwork of the men of the simpler, cruder faith conducting one upwards to the more refined and complicated creed. I do not know if Mohammedans ever visit Seville. If so, they doubtless console themselves for the desecration of their sacred edifices by thoughts of Hagia Sophia and the onetime Christian churches of the East. And the Giralda has fared better at the hands of the Christians than many a church of their own has done. I may instance the chapel at Mayence, which with practically no alteration in its architecture and internal arrangements now serves the purpose of a beer-shop.
As the Giralda attests the size and beauty of the great mosque, so several smaller towers exist in Seville to mark the sites of the lesser Mohammedan temples. The most important of these is the tower or minaret of San Marcos. It is seventy-five feet high and ten feet broad—the highest edifice in the city except the Giralda. It is built according to the pure Almohade style, “without any admixture,” points out Señor deMadrazo, “of the features taken from the Christian architecture of the West.” According to Mr Walter M. Gallichan there is a tradition that Cervantes used to ascend this tower to scan the vicinity in search of a Sevillian beauty of whom he was enamoured. The church is Gothic, and dates from 1478, but the beautiful portal exhibits Mudejar workmanship, and may be ascribed to the days of St Ferdinand or of his immediate successors.
The parish churches of San Juan Bautista, Santa Marina, San Esteban, Santiago, Santa Catalina, San Julián, San Ildefonso, San Andrés, San Vicente, San Lorenzo, San Bartolomé, Santa Cruz, and Santa Maria de las Nieves (some of which no longer exist), were all mosques during the Almohade era. A few continue to preserve their minarets andmihrabs, generally restored and modified almost beyond recognition.
While attending by the construction of these numerous places of worship to the spiritual needs of their subjects, the Almohade rulers neglected no means of strengthening Ishbiliyah and of promoting its general prosperity. The city became the most important seat of Mohammedan power in the West. Trade rapidly increased, and the town became the principal resort of theweavers, metal-workers, and other prominent Moorish craftsmen. Abu Yakub Yusuf was the first to throw a bridge of boats across the Guadalquivir, over which troops first passed on October 11th, 1171. This bridge immensely added to the strength of the city as a fortified place, as it established permanent communication between it and its principal source of supplies, the fertile district called the Ajarafa on the right bank of the river. The charms of this expanse, otherwise known as the Orchard of Hercules, are rapturously described by Arab historians. These are the words of the poet Ibn Saffar: “The Ajarafa surpasseth in beauty and fertility all the lands of the world. The oil of its olives goeth even to far Alexandria; its farms and orchards exceed those of other countries in size and convenience; so white and clean are they, that they appear like so many stars in a sky of olive gardens.” The Ajarafa is an Arabia Felix without wild beasts, the Guadalquivir a Nile without crocodiles. El Makkari says it measured about forty miles in each direction and contained a numerous population. Those who know the rather dreary country extending westward of the modern city will realise the melancholy change brought about by time.
The city then, as now, was girdled by strong walls. The gates were twelve in number. Those not turned towards the river were strongly fortified with towers and bastions. The farther bank of the Guadalquivir was defended by castles and redoubts. Upwards of a hundred keeps and watch-towers studded the adjacent country.
One of the most vital points in the defensive works was the poetically-named Torre del Oro (tower of gold), which still exists, and is familiar to every visitor to the city. The tower is a twelve-sided polygon of three storeys. It is surmounted by a smaller tower, also of twelve sides, which in turn supports a small round cupola. This superstructure was added in the eighteenth century, whereas the main building was erected by the Almohade governor Abu-l-Ala in the year 1220. The tower was in those days connected with the walls of the city by what is called in military parlance a curtain, which was pulled down as late as in 1821. The outwork faced another watch-tower on the opposite bank of the river, and a great iron chain was drawn from the one to the other, effectually closing the harbour against hostile vessels. The assaults of the foeman and the deadlier ravages of time have stripped this strong and gracefulmonument of the beautiful tiles orazulejoswith which it was once adorned, and which seemed to have earned for it its present name. No Danaë, alas! waits in this tower of gold to-day for tyrant or deliverer. The place is occupied by clerks, whose pens are ever busy recording the shipments of coal brought by incoming steamers; and the immediate vicinity is infested by “tramp” sailors of all nationalities, mostly British, for whose benefit, presumably, rum, “Old Tom,” and other stimulating but unromantic beverages are dispensed at kiosks and bars.
The spot appears to have been the scene of a picturesque episode recounted by Contreras. It is worth repeating as revealing the polished character of the dusky amirs who ruled in Ishbiliyah three hundred years before Charles of Orleans devoted his declining years, in his palace by the Loire, to the making of ballads, triolets, and rondeaux.
The Abbadite amir, Mut’adid-billah, was walking one day in the field of Marchab Afida, on the banks of the Guadalquivir, and observed the breeze ruffling the surface of the water. He improvised the line—
“The breeze makes of the water a cuirass”—
“The breeze makes of the water a cuirass”—
“The breeze makes of the water a cuirass”—
and turning to the poet Aben Amr, called uponhim to complete the verse. While the laureate was still in the throes of poetical parturition, a young girl of the people who happened to be standing by, anticipated him, and gave utterance to these original lines—
“A cuirass strong, magnificent for combat,As if the water had been frozen truly.”
“A cuirass strong, magnificent for combat,As if the water had been frozen truly.”
“A cuirass strong, magnificent for combat,As if the water had been frozen truly.”
The prince was astonished at this display of the lyrical gift by a woman of her condition, and ordered one of his eunuchs to conduct her to the palace. On being questioned, she informed him that she was called Romikiwa, because she was the slave of Romiya, and was a driver of mules.
“Are you married?” asked the prince.
“No, sire.”
“It is well, for I shall buy you and marry you.”
It is to be hoped that Romikiwa’s merits as a wife exceeded her abilities as a poetess.
The Alcazar, the palace inhabited by this dilettante amir and his successors of the race of Abbad, continued to be the principal residence of the subsequent rulers of Ishbiliyah, both Almoravides and Almohades. There can be no doubt that the latter restored and reconstructed the building to an extent that almost effaced the work of the founders. But the impress of the Berber architects was in its turn almost entirely lost whenthe fabric came into the possession of the Christians. Thus the Alcazar cannot be rightly classed among the monuments of the Almohade period. It is certain that its extent at this time was greater than it is now. Its enclosure was bounded by the city wall, which ran down to the river, and occupied the whole angle formed by the two. The Alcazar was then primarily a fortress, and its walls were flanked on every side by watch-towers such as those with which its front is still furnished. The principal entrance seems to have been at the Torre de la Plata (silver tower), which was standing as late as 1821. Finally, among the works of the last Musulman rulers of Seville, we must not omit to mention the great aqueduct of four hundred and ten arches, called the Caños de Carmona, constructed in 1172, which ensured the city an abundant supply of water from the reservoir of Alcalá de Guadaira. The Almohades had other palaces in the city. The old residence of Abdelasis yet remained, and we hear of the palaces of St Hermenegildo and of the Bib Ragel (or northern gate).
The Almohades kinged it nobly in Andalusia; but these successive revivals of fervour and activity in Western Islam may be compared to the last strong spasms of a dying man. Despitethese furious inrushes of Almoravides and Al-Muwahedun, the Christians were slowly but surely gaining ground. The lieutenants of Abd-ul-Mumin subjugated Granada and Almeria in the east, Badajoz and Evora in the west. The Moorish amir of Valencia did homage to Yusuf, Abd-ul-Mumin’s son and successor, at Ishbiliyah. The third sovereign of the dynasty, Yakub Al Mansûr, dealt what seemed a crushing blow to the allied Spaniards at Alarcos in 1195. Had that victory been properly followed up, perhaps to this day a Mohammedan power might have been seated firmly in the south of Spain, and the Strait of Gibraltar might have been a western Dardanelles.
But the Christians rallied. In 1212 was fought the decisive battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, between the Moorish Khalif An-Nasr and the Castilian King, Alfonso VIII. The Musulmans were totally defeated. “Six hundred thousand combatants,” says El Makkari, with perhaps a trace of Oriental hyperbole, “were led by An-Nasr to the field of battle; all perished, except a few that did not amount to a thousand. This battle was a malediction, not only on Andalus but on all the West.”
Yet the downfall of the Islamite power did not immediately follow. An-Nasr survived his defeatseven years, and his son, Abu Yusuf Yakub Al-Mustanser, reigned four more inglorious years. His dying (1223) without children was the signal for dissensions and disturbances throughout his still vast empire. While Abd-ul-Wahed was proclaimed Khalifa in Morocco, Al Adil took up the reins of sovereignty in Murcia. Both pretenders soon disappeared from the troubled scene, Abd-ul-Wahed being assassinated, and his rival, after having been defeated in Spain by the Christians, being forced to take refuge in Morocco, there to abdicate in favour of An-Nasr’s son, Yahya. Abu-l-Ala, Al Adil’s brother, who had been left as governor in Ishbiliyah, declared himself Khalifa on learning the accession of Yahya. He was the last of the race of Abd-ul-Mumin to rule in the city. He was driven from Spain—to found a wider empire in Africa—by Mohammed Ben Yusuf, variously styled Ben Hud and Al Jodhami.
The storm-clouds were gathering fast over the beautiful city by the Guadalquivir. Spain’s great national hero, St Ferdinand, now wore the crown of Castile. He routed the Moors at Jerez, and in 1235 wrested from them their most ancient and glorious metropolis, Cordova. The discord and sedition which history shows are the usual prelude to the extinction of a state, were notwanting at Seville. Ben Hud died in 1238, and his subjects turned once more in their despair to the African Almohades. But no new army of Ghazis crossed the strait to do battle with the Unbeliever. Despite their protestations of allegiance to the Khalifa of Barbary, the Moors of Seville were left to fight their last fight unassisted. When the Castilian army appeared before the walls, the defence was directed, strangely enough for a Mohammedan community, by a junta of six persons. Their names are worthy of being recorded: Abu Faris, called by the Spaniards Axataf, Sakkáf, Shoayb, Ben Khaldûn, Ben Khiyar, and Abu Bekr Ben Sharih.
The siege of Ishbiliyah lasted fifteen months. Material assistance was lent to the Spaniards by Musulman auxiliaries, among them the Amirs of Jaën and Granada. The Castilian fleet under Admiral Ramon Bonifaz dispersed the Moorish ships, while the Sevillian land forces were driven to take refuge within the walls. The Admiral succeeded in breaking the chain stretched across the river, and thus cut off the garrison from their principal magazines in the suburb of Triana. Only when in the clutches of famine did the defenders ask for terms. They offered to give up the city, on the condition that they should beallowed to demolish the mosque. The Infante Alfonso replied that if a single brick were displaced, the whole population would be put to the sword. The garrison finally surrendered on the promise that all inhabitants who desired to do so should be free to leave the city with their families and property, and that those who elected to remain should pay the Castilian king the same tribute they had hitherto paid to the native ruler. The brave Abu Faris was invited to accept an honourable post under the conqueror, but he magnanimously declined and retired to Africa. Thither thousands of his countrymen followed him. Indeed, probably only a few thousand Moors remained behind in Seville.
Ferdinand took possession on December 22nd, 1248. He took up his residence in the Alcazar and allotted houses and territory to his officers. It is worthy of remark that the first Christian soldier to ascend the Giralda was a Scotsman named Lawrence Poore. Among the first duties of the saintly king was the purification of the mosque and its conversion into a Christian church.
Seville, after having remained in the hands of the Musulmans five hundred and thirty-six years, had passed from them for ever.
Theoutward transformation of the Moorish Ishbiliyah into Seville, the Christian capital, proceeded slowly and gradually. The personal devotion and profound religious fervour of King Ferdinand notwithstanding, even the war which resulted in the taking of the city cannot be regarded as a crusade. As we have seen, Mohammedan troops fought under the banners of the Christian king and contributed to his victory; and in the division of the spoils these allies were not forgotten. Satisfied with their triumph, the Castilians showed moderation in their treatment of their Muslim subjects. The fall of Ishbiliyah was attended by no outburst of iconoclastic fury. The conquerors were delighted with the beauty and richness of their prize, and had no desire to impair the handiwork of their predecessors.
The transition from the pure Arabic and Almohade styles of architecture to what is called the Mudejar style was therefore almost imperceptible. The physiognomy of the city altered but slowly.But the alteration was from the first inevitable. Houses and lands were bestowed on knights from all parts of Spain on the condition of their residing permanently in Seville. Catalans, Galicians, Castilians of all trades and ranks flocked in, and their influence was bound sooner or later to assert itself. But the builders and artisan class remained for many years composed of Moors—sometimes Christianised, but thoroughly imbued with the artistic traditions of their forebears. Thus came about that peculiar and graceful blending of the Moorish and Gothic and earlier Renaissance styles known to Spanish writers as the Mudejar. Its differentiation from the Arabic naturally became more marked as the centuries rolled by.
Moorish architecture was thus accepted by the conquerors of Seville both from choice and necessity. But certain important modifications in the structure of buildings became immediately necessary, owing to the difference of faith and customs. The mosque and the dwelling-house alike had to undergo some alteration. Nomihrabwas required, nor minaret, nor the south-easterly position; in the dwelling-house there was no need for harem, for retired praying-place, for the baths so dear to the Andalusian Muslim.
Probably the first building of importance to be affected by the change of rulers was the mosque. The outermost naves were divided into chapels, the names and order of which have been preserved for us by Zuñiga (quoted by Madrazo).
The royal chapel occupied the centre of the eastern wall; the other chapels were: San Pedro, Santiago, Santa Barbara, San Bernardo, San Sebastian (in this chapel were buried some Moors of the blood royal who had been baptised and had served King Ferdinand, among them being Don Fernando Abdelmon, son of Abu Seyt, Amir of Baeza), San Ildefonso, San Francisco, San Andrés, San Clemente, San Felipe, San Mateo (containing the sepulchre of the Admiral of Castile, Don Juan de Luna), Don Alonso Perez de Guzman, San Miguel, San Marcos, San Lucas, San Bernabe, San Simon, and San Judas, and the Magdalena. In the last-named chapel were buried the knights who had taken part in the capture of the city. Attached to it was the altar of Nuestra Señora de Pilar, a reputedly miraculous shrine which became the objective of pilgrims in after years.
Chapels were also constructed in the four cloisters of the Patio de los Naranjos. The cloister of the Caballeros contained eight—one of which, Santa Lucia, was the place of sepulchre ofthe Haro family; the cloister of the Granada contained three; the cloister of San Esteban, three; the cloister of San Jorge or Del Lagarto, four—in one of which, San Jorge, reposed that doughty warrior, Garci Perez de Vargas, who distinguished himself before all his compeers at the assault of Seville. This cloister was named Del Lagarto from the remains of an enormous crocodile, a present from the Sultan of Egypt to King Alfonso el Sabio, which are still suspended from the roof.
The cathedral—for so we must now call the mosque—was endowed and richly embellished by St Ferdinand’s son and successor, the bookish monarch Alfonso el Sabio. He also bestowed upon Seville its existing coat-of-arms, consisting of the device NO8DO, which frequently appears, to the bewilderment of strangers, on public buildings, uniforms, and documents. The knot is in the vernacularmadeja; the device thus readsno madeja do, or, with an excusable pun,no me ha dejado—“it has not deserted me.” This honourable motto the city won by its loyalty to Alfonso during the civil wars which distracted the kingdom during his reign. Seville bears the splendid title of “Most noble, most loyal, most heroic, and unconquered city” (muy noble,muy leal,muy heroica,yinvicta). The surname “most noble” was bestowed upon it by St Ferdinand; the style “most faithful” it received from Juan II. in remembrance of its resistance to the Infante Don Enrique; “most heroic” from Fernando VII. in recognition of its devotion to the national cause during the War of Independence; and “unconquered” from Isabel II. to commemorate its defence against the army of Espartero in July 1843.
The successors of the sainted king made their home in the Alcazar, and adapted themselves to an environment created by their traditional foes. The personality which looms largest in the history of the city is that of Don Pedro I., surnamed the Cruel, or, by his few admirers, ‘the Justiciary.’ What Harun-al-Rashid is in the story of Bagdad is this ferocious monarch in the annals of Seville. Countless are the tales, the ballads, and traditions of which he is the subject. Curiously enough, Pedro enjoyed a certain measure of popularity in the country he misgoverned. He was undoubtedly a vigilant protector of the humbler classes of his subjects against the tyranny of the aristocracy, and officials, and appears to have combined a grim humour and a strain of what we should now call Bohemianism, with a tiger-like ferocity. He was fond of ramblingincognitothrough the poorerquarters of the city; and no account of Seville can be considered complete without a relation of one of his most notable adventures in the street called Calle de la Cabeza de Don Pedro.
The king had promulgated a decree holding the municipal authorities answerable with their lives for the preservation of peace and public order within their jurisdiction. A few nights later, wandering, heavily cloaked as we may suppose, through a dark alley, a gentleman brushed rudely against him. A brawl ensued, swords were drawn, and Pedro ran his subject through the body. Flattering himself that there had been no witness to the encounter, he stalked away. In the morning the hidalgo’s body was found, but there appeared to be no clue as to the assassin. The king summoned the Alcalde and reminded him of the edict. If the miscreant were not discovered within two days the luckless magistrate must himself pay the penalty on the scaffold. It was a situation with precisely the humorous aspect that Pedro relished.
But presently to the Alcalde came an old lady with a strange but welcome story. She told how she had seen a fight between two gentlemen, the previous night, from her bed-chamber window. She witnessed the fatal termination, and lo! thelight of her candle fell full on the face of the murderer; and as he bent forward, she heard his knee crack. By his features and by this well-known physical peculiarity, she recognised, beyond all possibility of a mistake, the king.
Next day the Alcalde invited his sovereign to attend the execution of the criminal. Greatly wondering, no doubt, Pedro came. Dangling from a rope he beheld his own effigy. “It is well,” he said, after an ominous pause. “Justice has been done. I am satisfied.”
We may be inclined to disagree with the king’s conception of justice as evinced on this occasion. More equitable and humorous was his action when a priest, for murdering a shoemaker, was condemned by his ecclesiastical superiors to suspension from his sacerdotal functions for twelve months. Pedro thereupon decreed that any tradesman who slew a priest should be punished by being restrained from exercising his trade for the like period!
The catalogue of this Castilian monarch’s crimes proves interesting if gloomy reading. He left his wife, Blanche de Bourbon, to perish in a dungeon; he married Juana de Castro and insultingly repudiated her within forty-eight hours; he put to death his father’s mistress, Leonor deGuzman. He threw the young daughter of his brother, Enrique de Trastamara, naked to the lions, like some Christian virgin-martyr. But the good-humoured (and possibly well-fed) brutes refused to touch the proffered prey. Not wishing to be outdone in generosity by a wild beast, Pedro ever afterwards treated the maiden kindly. She was known, in remembrance of her terrible experience, as Leonor de los Leones.
The Jew, Don Simuel Ben Levi, had served Pedro long and only too faithfully as treasurer and tax-gatherer. It was whispered in his master’s ear that half the wealth that should fill the royal coffers was diverted into his own. Ben Levi was seized without warning and placed on the rack, where the noble Israelite is said to have died, not of pain, but of pure indignation. Under his house—so the story has it—was a cavern filled with three piles of gold and silver so high that a man standing behind any one of them was completely hidden. “Had Don Simuel given me the third of the least of these three piles,” exclaimed the king, “I would not have had him tortured. Why would he rather die than speak?”
Somewhat more excusable was the treatment meted out to the Red King of Granada, Abu Saïd; for this prince was himself a usurper, and hadbehaved traitorously towards his own sovereign and his suzerain, the King of Castile. Fearing Pedro’s resentment, he appeared at his court at Seville with a retinue of three hundred, loaded with presents, among which was the enormous ruby that now decorates the Crown of England. He was received in audience by the Spanish king, whom he begged to arbitrate between him and the deposed King of Granada. Pedro returned a gracious reply, and entertained the Red King in the Alcazar. Before many hours had passed the Moors were seized in their apartments and stripped of their raiment and valuables. Abu Saïd, mounted on a donkey and ridiculously attired, was taken, with thirty-six of his courtiers, to a field outside the town. There they were bound to posts. A train of horsemen appeared, Don Pedro among them, and transfixed the helpless men with darts, the king shouting as he hurled his missiles at the luckless Abu Saïd, “This for the treaty you made me conclude with Aragon!” “This for the castle you lost me!” The Moors met their death with the stoical resignation of their race.
That atrocities committed against Jews and infidels, against even members of the royal family, should be regarded with indifference by the publicof that day need not surprise us. But the people of Seville tamely suffered the most cruel wrongs to be inflicted by the tyrant on their own fellow-citizens. After his (or rather the Black Prince’s) victory over Don Enrique at Najera (1367), the Admiral Bocanegra and Don Juan Ponce de Leon were beheaded on the Plaza San Francisco. Garci Jufre Tenorio, the mayor of the city, also suffered death. The property of Doña Teresa Jufre was confiscated because she had spoken ill of his Majesty. Doña Urraca Osorio, because her son had taken part with Don Enrique in the revolt, was burned at the stake on the Alameda. Her servant, Leonor Dávalos, threw herself into the flames and shared the fate of her mistress. In consequence of this persecution, Seville lost several of her most illustrious families, which either became extinguished or removed themselves to other parts of Spain.
So much for the picturesque if repugnant personality of Pedro I. With his sinister memory the Alcazar is so intimately associated, and the part he took in its reconstruction was so conspicuous that this may be deemed the proper place to deal with that famous building—one of the two most important in Seville.
“The Alcazar,” says Señor Rafaél Contreras, “is not a classic work, nor does it present to-day that stamp of originality and that ineffaceable character which distinguish ancient works like the Parthenon and modern works like the Escorial. In the Alcazar of Yakub Yusuf the influence of the heroic generation has faded away, and it portrays instead the daily life of our Christian kings who have enriched it with a thousand pages of glorious history. The Almohades, who impressed on the building their African characteristics in 1181, and Jalubi, who had been a follower of Al-Mehdi in the conquest of Africa, left on its walls traces of the Roman influences met with in the course of their movements. St Ferdinand, who conquered it, Don Pedro I., who restored it, Don Juan II., who reconstructed the most elegant apartments, the Catholic sovereigns, who built within its precincts chapels and oratories, Charles V., who added more than a half in the modified style of that epoch of the Renaissance, Philip III. and Philip V., who enlarged it still more by building in the adjacent gardens—these, and other princes who inhabited it during six centuries, have changed the original structure to such an extent that to-day it is far from being a monument of oriental art, though we find it covered with fine arabesques and embellished with mosaics and gilding.”
Though not a monument of oriental art, the Alcazar seems to us to have claims to rank as a specimen of Moorish architecture; for the general character of the structure was determined by the restorations effected by order of Pedro I., and these were, probably exclusively, the work of Moorish artisans, not only of Seville, but from Granada, then a Moorish city. This accounts for the resemblance of this palace to the more famous Alhambra. But the Alcazar is not to be dismissed as a mere pseudo-Moorish palace. It remains, to a great extent, the work of Moorish hands and the conception of Moorish architects.
In spite of the severe strictures of fastidious observers, the Alcazar produces a very pleasing impression on northern visitors. Mr W. M. Gallichan writes: “It is a palace of dreams, encircled 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.... The nightingales still sing among the odorous orange bloom, and in the tangles of roses birds still 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.
“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 gorgeouspatios, 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 Alcazar, as we have said, at the time of the reconquest covered a much larger space than at present; and its area was even greater in the days of Pedro I. Its strength as a fortress may be gauged by a glance at the remaining walls, adjacent to the principal entrance. In the Plaza de Santo Tomas is an octagonal, one-storeyed tower, called the Torre de Abdalasis, which once formed part of the building, and is said to have been the spot on which St Ferdinand hoisted his flag on the fall of Seville. To enter the palace we pass across the Plaza del Triunfo and enter the Patio de las Banderas, so called either because a flag was hoisted here when the royal family were in residence or on account of the trophy displayed over one of the arches, composed of the Arms of Spain with supporting flags. From this court a colonnade called the Apeadero leads to the Patio de la Monteria. It was built, as an inscription over the portal records, by Philip III. in 1607, and restored and devoted to the purposes of an armoury by the fifth sovereign of that name in 1729. The Patio de la Monteria derives its name from the Royal Lifeguards, the Monteros de Espinosa, having their quarters here. These courts, with the commonplace private houses which surround them, occupy the site of the old Moorish palace of the Almohades. Some of the houses exhibit vestiges of fine Musulman work. The house No. 3 of the Patio de las Banderas formed part, in the opinion of Gestoso y Perez, of the Stucco Palace (Palacio del Yeso) mentioned by Ayala as having been built by Pedro I. That potentate, it is worthy of remark, was accustomed to administer justice, tempered with ferocity, after the oriental fashion, seated on a stone bench in a corner of thispatio. The room in which the Almohade governors presided over their tribunals still exists. It is surrounded by houses, and is entered from the Patio de la Monteria. Contreras sees in this hall (the Sala de Justicia) the traces of a work anterior to the ninth century. It was, however, restored by Pedro. It is square, and measures nine metres across. The ceiling is of stucco and adorned with stars, wreaths, and a painted frieze. Inscriptions in beautiful Cufic characters constitute the principal decoration of the apartment. Round the four walls runs a tastefully worked stucco frieze, interrupted by several right-angled apertures. These were once covered, in the opinion of Herr Schmidt, by screens of plaster, which kept out the sun’s heat but admitted the light; or, according to Gestoso y Perez, by tapestries “which must have made the hall appear a miracle of wealth andsplendour.” Thanks to its isolation, the Sala de Justicia escaped the “restoration” effected in the middle of the nineteenth century by order of the Duc de Montpensier.
It was in this hall (often overlooked by visitors) that Don Pedro overheard four judges discussing the division of a bribe they had received. They were beheaded on the spot, and their skulls are still to be seen in the walls of the king’s bed-chamber.
From the Patio de la Monteria we pass into the Patio del Leon. In the fifteenth century, we read, tournaments were often held here. Our attention is at once directed to the superb façade of the main building or Alcazar proper—the palace of Don Pedro. It is a splendid work of art. The columns are of rare marble with elegant Moorish capitals. The portal is imposing, and was rebuilt by Don Pedro, as the legend in curious Gothic characters informs us: ‘The most high, the most noble, the most powerful, and most victorious Don Pedro, King of Castile and Leon, commanded these palaces, these alcazares, and these entrances to be made in the year [of Cæsar] one thousand four hundred and two” (1364). Elsewhere on the façade are the oft-repeated inscriptions in Cufic characters: “There is no conqueror but Allah,”“Glory to our lord, the Sultan,” “Eternal glory to Allah,” “Eternal is the dominion of Allah,” etc.
This gate, in the opinion of Contreras, is of Arabic origin and in the Persian style, after which were built most of the entrances to mosques of the first period. The square opening is often seen in Egypt, and supplanted the more graceful horse-shoe arch. The pilasters are Arabic throughout; but the arch balconies, the Byzantine columns, and Roman capitals are works of Don Pedro’s time.
The palace of the Alcazar forms an irregular oblong. The Patio de las Doncellas or Patio Principal occupies the centre, roughly speaking, and upon it open the various halls and chambers according to the usual Moorish plan. Thispatiois absurdly named from its being the supposed place in which were collected the hundred damsels said to have been sent by way of annual tribute by Mauregato to the Moors. It is hardly necessary to say that the damsels would have been sent to Cordova, which was the capital of the Khalifate, not to Seville, and that this court was among the restorations of the fourteenth century.
The court is rectangular, and surrounded by a gallery composed of white marble columns in pairs, supporting pointed arches. The soffite (orinner side) of the arch is scalloped or serrated. The central arch in each side is higher and larger than its fellows, and springs from square imposts resting on the twin columns. At each angle of the impost is a graceful little pillar—“a characteristic,” observes Madrazo, “of the Arabic-Grenadine architecture, such as may often be noticed in the magnificent Alhambra of the Alhamares.” Over the arches runs a flowing scroll with Arabic inscriptions, among them being “Glory to our lord the Sultan Don Pedro; may God lend him His aid and render him victorious”, and this very remarkable text, “There is but one God; He is eternal. He was not begotten and does not beget, and He has no equal.” This is evidently an inscription remaining from Musulman days, and spared in their ignorance by the Christian owners of the palace. On the frieze will also be noticed the escutcheons of Don Pedro and the Catholic sovereigns, and the favourite devices of Charles V.—the Pillars of Hercules and motto “Plus Oultre.” Behind the central arches are as many doors with elaborately ornamented arches. On either side of each door is a double window, framed with broad, ornamental bands, with conventional floral designs. Round the inner walls of the arcade runs a high dado ofglazed tile mosaic (azulejo), brilliantly coloured and cut with exquisite skill. The combinations and variations of the design repay examination, and will be seen to extend all round the gallery. This decoration was probably executed by Moorish workmen in the time of Pedro I. Finally, above the doors run wide friezes with shuttered windows, through which the light falls on the gleaming mosaic. The ceiling of the gallery dates from the time of Ferdinand and Isabella, but was restored in 1856.
Three recesses in thepatioare pointed out as the spots where Don Pedro held his audiences; but Contreras is of opinion that they are the walled-up entrances to former corridors which communicated with the Harem. That apartment probably faced the Salón de los Embajadores.
A wide cornice separates the lower part of the court from the upper gallery. This is composed of balustrades, arches, and columns in white marble of the Ionic order, and was the work of Don Luis de Vega (sixteenth century).
One of the doors opening on to the Patio de las Doncellas gives access to the Salón de los Embajadores (Hall of the Ambassadors), the finest apartment in the Alcazar. Its dazzling splendour is produced by the blending of five distinct styles,the Arabic, Almohade or true Moorish, Gothic, Grenadine or late Moorish, and Renaissance. Measuring about thirty-three feet square, it has four entrances, of which that giving on to the Patio de las Doncellas may be considered the principal. Here we find folding-doors in the Arabic style of extraordinary size and beauty. Each wing is 5.30 metres high by 1.97 broad, and adorned with painted inlaid work, varied by Arabic inscriptions. One of these latter is of great interest. It runs as follows: “Our Lord and Sultan, the exalted and high Don Pedro, King of Castile and Leon (may Allah prosper him and his architect), ordered these doors of carved wood to be made for this apartment (in honour of the noble and fortunate ambassadors), which is a source of joy to the happy city, in which the palaces, the alcazares, and these mansions for my Lord and Master were built, who only showed forth his splendour. The pious and generous Sultan ordered this to be done in the city of Seville with the aid of his intercessor [Saint Peter?] with God. Joy shone in their delightful construction and embellishment. Artificers from Toledo were employed in the work; and this took place in the fortunate year 1404 [1364A.D.]. Like the evening twilight and the refulgence ofthe twilight of the aurora is this work. A throne resplendent in brilliant colours and eminence. Praise be to Allah!”
The three remaining portals present graceful round arches, enclosing three lesser arches (forming the actual entrances) of the horse-shoe type. These last are believed, as we have said elsewhere, to be of Abbadite origin. The capitals of their supporting columns are fine examples of the Arab-Byzantine style. Above the horse-shoe arches, and comprised within the outer arch, are three lattices. The whole space within the arch is covered with delicate filigree work.
This hall was once known as the Salón de la Media Naranja (Hall of the Half Orange) from the elegant shaping of its carved wooden ceiling. This rests upon a frieze decorated with the Tower and Lion, and supporting this again are beautiful carved and gilded stalactites or pendants. On the intervening wall spaces are Cufic inscriptions on a blue ground, and female heads painted by sixteenth-century vandals. Then follows another frieze with the devices of Castile and Leon, below which is a row of fifty-six niches, containing the portraits of the kings of Spain from Receswinto the Goth to Philip III. The earliest of these seem to have been painted in the sixteenth century,while the little columns and trefoil windows that separate them may be ascribed to the end of the fourteenth. The series is interrupted by four rectangular spaces, formerly occupied by windows, but now taken up by elegant balconies in wrought iron, the work of Francisco López (1592). The decoration of this magnificent chamber is completed by a high dado of white, blue, and green glazed tiles. It was probably in this hall that Abu Saïd, “the Red King,” was received by Don Pedro prior to his murder.
In an apartment to the right of the Ambassadors’ Hall, a plaster frieze of Arabic origin, showing figures in silhouette, may be noticed; and in a room to the left, other silhouettes, apparently referring to the qualities attributed by his admirers to Pedro I.
On the north side of the Patio de las Doncellas lies the so-called Dormitorio de los Reyes Moros (Bed-chamber of the Moorish Kings). The entrance arch is semicircular, and includes three graceful lattice windows, richly ornamented. On either side of the door is a beautiful double-window with columns dating from the Khalifate. The doors themselves are richly inlaid, and painted with geometrical patterns. The interior of the chamber is adorned, like all other apartments inthe Alcazar, with plaster friezes, and is so richly decorated that scarcely a hand’s-breadth (remarks Herr Schmidt) is without ornamentation. To the right of the entrance lies a small apartment known as the Sultan’s Alcove. Opposite the entrance from thepatioare three horse-shoe arches belonging to the earliest period of Spanish-Arabic art, leading to anAl-Hamior alcove.
From the Dormitorio we may pass into the quaintly named Patio de las Muñecas, or Puppet’s Court. It is a spot with tragical associations, for here took place the murder of the Master of Santiago, Don Fadrique de Trastamara, by his brother, Don Pedro—a fratricide to be avenged years after by another fratricide at Montiel. The Master, after a campaign in Murcia, had been graciously received by the king, and went to pay his respects to the lovely Maria de Padilla in another part of the palace. It is said that she warned him of his impending fate; perhaps her manner, if not her words, should have aroused him to a sense of his danger; but the soldier prince returned to the royal presence. “Kill the Master of Santiago!” Pedro shouted, so the story goes. The Master’s sword was entangled in his scarf; he was separated from his retinue. He fled to this court, where he was struck down. One ofhis retainers took refuge in Maria de Padilla’s apartment, where he tried to screen himself by holding the king’s daughter, Doña Beatriz, before his breast. Pedro tore the child away, and despatched the unfortunate man with his own hand.
The Patio de las Muñecas is in the Grenadine style. It has suffered severely at the hands of the restorers of 1833 and 1843. The arches are semicircular and spring from brick pillars, which are supported by marble columns with rich capitals. The arches, which form an arcade round the court, are decorated with fine mosaic and trellis (ajaraca) work. The whole is tastefully painted. The arches vary in size, that looking towards the Ambassadors’ Hall being almost pear-shaped. The columns are of different colours, and the pillars they uphold are inscribed with Cufic characters. The upper part of thepatioreveals a not very skilful attempt to imitate the lower.
“The Ambassadors’ Hall as well as the Puppet’s Court,” says Pedro de Madrazo, “are surrounded by elegant saloons, commencing at the principal façade of the Alcazar, running round the north-west angle of the building, adjoining the galleries of the gardens del Principe, de la Gruta, and de la Danza, and terminating at the south-eastern angle of the Patio de las Doncellas. Here is now thechapel, and there it is believed that the luxurious apartment of the Caracol (inhabited by Maria de Padilla) stood. This part was, without doubt, that which was called the Palacio del Yeso, or Stucco Palace, on account of the plaster decorations in the fashion of Granada; but in which of these rooms Don Pedro was playing draughts when the Master of Santiago appeared before him, it is impossible to say with certainty.”
The Salón del Principe occupies the upper floor of the chief façade, and receives light through the beautifulajimicesor twin-windows so noticeable from without. This spacious hall is divided into three compartments, each of which has a fine ceiling. Two have been restored, but the third was the work of Juan de Simancas in the year 1543. The scheme of decoration is Moorish. The columns in this hall and the adjoinng apartments are of marble, with rich capitals. According to Zurita (quoted by Madrazo), these columns came from the royal palace at Valencia, after the defeat of Pedro of Aragon by the King of Castile.