Part 2
Toledo and Avila, both Moorish towns, display an austerity fascinating by reason of its very grimness. Cordova is beautiful by comparison, partly on account of its situation in a fertile district, and partly because its houses are white flower-decked, and cheerful in aspect. It is more voluptuous than these fortified towns of Castile. The climate is southern, the air softer, and the buildings are less stern in colouring and less menacing in appearance. In Cordova, flowery courts invite you with a smile; in Toledo, frowning gates and barred doors forbid your entrance. Toledo reminds us that the Moors were warriors and conquerors, bent upon aggression and the extension of territory; in Cordova one thinks of the race as sages, artists, worshippers, poets, and lovers. The palm-trees planted by Abd-er-Rahman, ‘The Servant of the Merciful God,’ the tropical flowers and fruits, the mosque, and the fountains, give impress of the milder, pacific, quietly joyous life of the Moors. We recall the words of the wise ruler: ‘Beautiful palm-tree! thou art, like me, a stranger in this land; but thy roots find a friendly and a fertile soil, thy head rises into a genial atmosphere, and the balmy west breathes kindly among thy branches.’
By these signs we learn to love Cordova as the sanctuary of learning and devotion rather than as the citadel of the valiant. It is essentially Oriental. Look at the streets--narrow, crooked, and shady, for, having no horse vehicles, the Arabs had no need for wider thoroughfares. The roofs of the houses project and screen the alleys from the sun. Cordova is clean and bright in contrast to Toledo. The streets are free from garbage; the interiors of the houses are frequently cleansed, and flowers are grown by rich and poor. Fruits are cultivated in and around the town, and one may pluck the fig, orange, lemon, date, peach, plum, pomegranate, strawberry, and almond.
Standing on the massive bridge which spans the Guadalquivir, one looks upon the mosque, the city walls, and towers of churches. The Campo de la Verdad forms a broad promontory washed by the river, and we see quaint Morisco water-mills, and the lever nets of fishermen. There are seventeen arches to the bridge, which is of Moorish design, standing upon piles constructed by the Romans. In the distance rises the range of the Sierra Morena, a savage wilderness of rock, ravine, and crag, haunted by the boar, deer, and lynx. Winding through rich meadowland, the Guadalquivir flows, now in swift shallows, and then in slow deeps, which from certain points of view resemble landlocked pools. The river is wide, but not of great depth. Its flood is stained brown from the soil through which it flows, and at times, when the mountains pay their tribute of swollen streams, the Guadalquivir speeds in a turbid current, filling its banks to the brim.
There is a lonely majesty about this tawny river which for many leagues of its course flows through a desolate, deserted plain. It has but few trees upon its banks; but here and there are stretches of brushwood tenanted by nightingales. The stork visits the silent reaches to fish for eels. Upon its brown banks grows the cold grey cactus. The river breeds barbel, tench, and big eels, and in the summer shad ascend from the sea.
In Roman times the Guadalquivir was navigable as far as Cordova, but to-day the channels have silted up. A few salt pools in the plains show that the sea once covered large tracts of this part of Andalusia. The river is now tidal for some miles above Seville, and ships of heavy tonnage can reach that port. In the middle and upper reaches the river is unfrequented; it waters grassy wastes and fertile vegas, and murmurs by groves of olives in its course by Andujar and Cordova.
Antillon, a Spanish writer, accuses the Cordovese of ignorance and coarse manners. We encountered neither of these qualities during our stay in the old town. Cordova has its mendicants, whose eyes are keen for the advent of visitors, and the boys are somewhat troublesome in their voluntary capacity as guides to the sights of the place. But the natives of Cordova are sedate, picturesque folk, showing no discourtesy to the stranger, but rather a disposition to assist him.
There are three principal hostelries--the Suiza and the Oriente are the visitors’ houses; but those who desire a purely Spanish environment may find quarters at the little Victoria, which has a very charming patio, gay with flowers. There are several good cafés. For amusement there is the Grand Teatro, a large house, in which we saw _The Barber of Seville_ performed. There is, of course, a bull-ring, the Plaza de Toros of every town in Spain. The chief fights are held during the ferias of May and September.
But Cordova is the town of dreams, memories, and meditations rather than of exuberant gaiety. It is a Mecca of the artistic and the studious. For garish pleasure, sparkling society, and excitement one must go to Seville, Malaga, or Cadiz. There is a serene solemnity in Cordova, though it is by no means a gloomy city. The mosque is the attraction and the wonder of the city, and sacred temples do not dispose to hilarity. Cordova is eloquent of the gorgeous, heroic past, and its stones contain sermons upon human destiny and the insecurity of empires. It is a garden city, antiquated, improgressive, tenacious of the ancient spirit, and abounding in beauty of form and colour.
Cordova contains only the remnants of its pristine magnificence, but these are marvellous and precious. The city once boasted of fifty thousand resplendent palaces, and a hundred thousand inferior houses. Its mosques numbered seven hundred, and the cleanly Moors built nine hundred public baths. The city stretched for ten miles along the banks of the Guadalquivir, flanked with walls, battlements, and towers, and approached by guarded gates. The common folk spoke in phrases of poetry; there were no illiterates. Art in every branch flourished in the city; there were hosts of craftsmen working in brass, gold, and clay. The libraries were huge, and hither came men of science, philosophers, poets, and students of all subjects to glean from the store of the world’s accumulated thought.
Throughout Europe the mention of Cordova brought yearning to the hearts of the cultured and studious, and men suffered hardship and stress to pay pilgrimages to this source of learning. Many who journeyed hither echoed the words of Ibn Sareh, the poet, which he uttered upon entering the seat of wisdom: ‘God be praised; I am in Cordova, the abode of science, the throne of the Sultans!’ Seville was ‘the gem,’ ‘the pearl’ of Andalusia; Cordova was called ‘the Bride.’ El-Makkari, the Moorish chronicler, rehearses many of the poetical tributes paid by Moslem writers to the splendid city. Setting forth the culture of the city, he adds, in one place: ‘The Cordovans were further celebrated for the elegance and richness of their dress, their attention to religious duties, their strict observance of the hours of prayer, the high respect and veneration in which they held their mosque, their aversion to wine and their destruction of wine-vases wherever they found any, their abhorrence of every illicit practice, their glory in nobility of descent and military enterprise, and their success in every department of the sciences.’
Such were the inhabitants of Cordova at the time when the city was the great capital of the Mohammedan empire. Seville and Toledo yielded pre-eminence to Cordova, and men spoke in veneration of its four great wonders: the immense and gorgeous mosque, the bridge over the Guadalquivir, the city of Ez-Zahra, situated in the suburbs, and the sciences which were studied in the colleges.
When we read the ancient annals and grow absorbed by the story of Cordova’s past, we can scarcely realise that the town and its inmates were real things. The place and the people seem to belong to the realm of fairy romance; the city seems one of dreams, and the natives pass as in a pageant of the imagination. And yet we may enter the sacred mih-rab, commune with the ghosts of warrior and philosopher, and stand where Tarik stood when he wrested the prized capital from the Goths.
Tangible evidence of a superb civilisation surrounds us in Cordova. We see examples of early Moorish architecture brought to its highest artistic manifestation in the mosque. We listen in vain for the voices of teachers, the song of the singers and poets, and the call of the muezzin to devotion; but we tread in the footsteps of the long-vanished Moor, and read his story in the noble lines, chaste embellishments, and gorgeous details which his skilful hands produced.
II
THE MOORISH CAPTURE
Probably a city of the Carthaginians once stood upon the ground now covered by Cordova. Phœnicians, Greeks, Trojans, and Tyrians battled in their day for the rich spoil of Spain, and the armies of Carthage ravaged the whole of the country. Rome wrought the downfall of the Carthaginian dominion in Bœtica (Andalusia) and Lusitania (Spain). In A.D. 205 the Romans began to lay hands on the Iberian Peninsula, and after long strife they conquered all the land save the territory of the indomitable Basques of the rocky north.
At Corduba (Cordova) the Romans established a capital of Hispania Ulterior, and the city was one of importance and prosperity. Under Cæsar it became the chief town of Bœtica. According to Plutarch, the government of Spain was given to Julius Cæsar after his prætorship, and he ruled firmly and justly over Portugal and Andalusia. The conquering emperor resided in Corduba, and it was here that he was first attacked with epilepsy.
Beneath the rule of Rome Andalusia prospered. Roads, bridges, and aqueducts were constructed; cities were enlarged and founded, industries were developed, and the wealth of the country increased. This spell of peace and progress was broken by the conflict between Cæsar and Pompey, and Spain was the scene of some of their fiercest battles. With the decay of Roman greatness and valour, Bœtica was overrun by the hosts of the Goths from northern and eastern Europe. Like beasts of prey these hordes despoiled the Roman cities, shattering temple and amphitheatre, and laying waste fertile farms and abundant orchards. Rome yielded its last hold upon fair Bœtica; the Goths seized upon the land, and split it up into territories ruled by warriors. The invaders were ruthless in their destruction; they aimed at removing every trace of the Roman civilisation, and unfortunately they were successful in accomplishing an almost universal demolition of building, monument, and statue.
Cordova was one of the residences of the Gothic kings. It was known as Kordhobah among the Goths. There is little doubt that it was a city of considerable opulence; for when it was sacked by the Moors it yielded gorgeous robes, embroidered with gold flowers, fine chains of gold, strings of pearls, and quantities of emeralds and rubies. The sway of Ludherick, or Roderick, King of the Goths, was first menaced by Tarif the Berber. Roderick was in dispute with the Lord of Ceuta, a city on the Strait of Gibraltar, and this quarrel exposed him to the attack of the covetous territory-hunters of northern Africa.
While Roderick and the Lord of Ceuta contended, Tarif, the redoubtable leader of the Berber army, landed in Spain, with a force of one hundred cavalry and four hundred foot-soldiers. Tarif appears to have solicited reinforcements, in order to meet the Goths at better odds. A force under Tarik was then sent by Musa Ibn Noseyr, with the object of capturing Andalusia. As Tarik was crossing the sea, he beheld an apparition of Mohammed, surrounded by armed Arabs. The Prophet bade the General take cheer, saying: ‘Take courage, O Tarik, and accomplish what thou art destined to perform.’ The vision was accepted by the anxious Tarik as an omen of victory. He rallied his soldiers, and marched upon Cordova, which was the royal citadel of Roderick. The Gothic king, upon the tidings of the invasion, came from the north with his army to the capital, and commanded his officer Theodemir to advance and encounter Tarik.
Roderick was at this time striving with the sons of Witiza, the preceding monarch, for his claim to certain territories. Count Julian and Bishop Oppas sided with the princes, and a large number of the people stood to their cause. The advent of the forces of Musa served as an opportunity for the sons of Witiza to strike a blow at Roderick, their powerful enemy. They decided to join the army of Tarik, and to oppose the Gothic rule.
The combined hosts of Tarik and the sons of Witiza encamped to the south of Cordova, after taking Algeciras. Meanwhile the Moorish commander wrote to his superior for more troops, for Roderick boasted of a large and valorous following. The great encounter between the Goths and the Moors was enacted on the plain of Guadalete. Roderick came to the field in a litter, carried by two mules, and over his head was a brilliantly jewelled canopy. Aided by the disaffected princes and their adherents, Tarik made a terrific onslaught upon the ranks of the Goths. It has been recounted by Moorish historians that Tarik himself went into the thick of the fight, and killed Roderick with his sword. This account is, however, doubted by El-Makkari, who asserts that after the battle Roderick could not be found alive or dead.
The victory was mighty and complete for the Moors. Upon the news of Tarik’s success, his compatriots began to pour into the country, for the purpose of colonisation, and in the expectation of enrichment in a land which had yielded fortune to Carthaginian, Roman, and Visigoth. But Cordova was still secure in the keeping of the Christians, though Roderick had been defeated. Naturally the victorious Tarik yearned to win fresh laurels, and his design was upon the great capital of the Goths, the remaining stronghold of the routed defenders of Bœtica.
The general selected for the attack upon Cordova was Mughīth Ar-rumi. At the direction of Tarik, this warrior rode, with seven hundred horsemen, to lay siege to the city. Some of the Moorish chroniclers state that Tarik himself led the expedition against the capital; but Mughīth appears to have been the leader upon whom the conduct of this important movement fell.
Advancing within a short distance of Cordova, the force encamped in a forest, and remained cautiously in hiding. At this time many parts of Andalusia, which are now wholly bare of trees, were well wooded. The foolish destruction of the forests came later, under the Christian rule, the reason for the wholesale felling of timber being that trees harbour birds, and that birds feed upon seed and grain.
Concealed in a dense pinewood, Mughīth Ar-rumi saw the coveted city almost within his grasp. But the walls were high, stoutly fortified, and formidable, and the defenders were reputed valiant and stubborn. Scouts from the Moorish army were sent to view the defences of the city. They met a shepherd, and from him they extracted the intelligence that the chief residents of Cordova had quitted, and fled to Toledo for protection. By threat or bribe, the spies also gathered from the shepherd that there was one weak spot in the city walls. With this information they returned to the ambush, and acquainted Mughīth with that which they had learned.
The Moorish commander bade his warriors prepare for a night attack upon the city. Darkness and a heavy shower of hail favoured the stealthy approach of the horsemen to the walls, the hail drowning the sound of the horses’ hoofs. A halt was called. Mughīth ordered an inspection of the walls, enjoining a close watch for sentries. The advance party reported that no sentinels were to be seen at their posts, and that the city seemed deep in slumber. Upon this the shepherd quietly conducted the soldiers to the weakest point of the embattlements, where grew a big fig-tree. One of the Moors clambered into the topmost branch of the tree, and contrived to gain the summit of the city wall. Unrolling the coils of his turban, Mughīth threw one end to the man, who used it as a rope to assist his comrades in scaling the barrier.
The entrance into the city was achieved quietly and with little loss of time. With scarcely any effort of resistance, the startled inhabitants fled from their houses, and, headed by the Governor, rushed to a church for safety. The edifice proved a veritable fastness for a large number of the people. Mughīth Ar-rumi was baffled. His only course was to cut off all approach to and egress from the church, trusting that starvation would compel the imprisoned populace to yield. But he was unaware that a conduit brought water underground to the building, and that the defenders were probably able to hold out for some time, having provided themselves with rations for a state of siege.
A negro, who managed to find a way into the church, was sent as a spy. This man immediately fell into the hands of the besieged, who were at first alarmed by his appearance. They had never seen a human creature with a skin of ebony and hair of wool. Mistaking the hue of the black man’s skin for uncleanliness, they washed and scrubbed him with great pains. But, greatly to their wonder, the black covering refused to leave the man’s skin, and they at length ended the prolonged ablutions. In seven days the much-scrubbed negro made his escape. To Mughīth he reported the conduit. Whereupon the general promptly cut off the supply of water, and thought to bring the people to instant surrender. He was, however, disappointed, for the band in the church still bravely held out and defied him.
The extremest measure was at length employed by the impatient Moor. For three months the refugees had resisted all endeavour to eject them or to starve them into submission. The church was fired, and the luckless defenders had no choice between instant death and yielding. They rushed from the flames, and the Governor of the city was taken captive. The church was afterwards known as ‘The Church of the Burning.’
So fell the Kordhobah of the Gothic kings. The palace became the residence of Mughīth, who lived there until he had decided upon the future government of the city. Before leaving Cordova, the Moorish general appointed the Jewish residents the rulers of the city. Thus the oppressed and plundered Hebrew came into possession, and rose to the position of autocratic director of those who had bitterly persecuted him. This affront to the dignity of the proud Goths was doubtless grievous to them in the hour of their defeat. But it was a shrewd policy of rulership on the part of Mughīth Ar-rumi.
Whether certain of the Moorish writers of this period are correct in relating that Tarik was before the walls of Cordova, we are not able to say. It is written that he came with an army, and after waiting nine days in impatience, being unable to force an entry, he departed, and left Mughīth to capture the city.
Cordova was now made subject to the Khalif of Damascus; but in 756 it was independent, under the rule of Abd-er-Rahman I. According to El-Makkari, Ayub was the first to establish the capital of the territory of Andalus at Cordova.
Mughīth, the capturer of Cordova, was not only an intrepid soldier, he was a scholar and poet, and a lover of the arts. After the taking of the city he went to Damascus, but returned to Cordova and lived in the palace.
III
THE OMEYYAD DYNASTY
Abd-er-Rahman, a brave prince of a family that had ruled Damascus, was born in troubled times in the camp before that city. Es-Deffah had seized upon the throne; the family of the Omeyyads was hurled from power. While under sentence of death for his attempt to restore the fortunes of his family, Abd-er-Rahman passed a period of wandering among Arab herdsmen. His dream was of Andalusia, where the supporters of the Omeyyads were still numerous and powerful; and by dint of energy and enthusiasm the young prince contrived to form a corps of one thousand Arabs.
Abdulmalek Ibn Kattan, who had usurped rulership in Cordova, had been defeated by the adventurous Balj at the head of a troop of Syrians. The luckless Abdulmalek, after falling into the hands of Balj, was crucified in a field outside Cordova, with a hog on one side and a dog on the other. Until recovered by friends and removed for burial, the body of the conquered sultan was left upon the cross as a menace to his followers.
But Balj enjoyed only a short spell of power, for at the end of eleven months he was forced to encounter the redoubtable prince of the Omeyyads, whose army of Arabs was largely augmented by fierce partisans in Spain.
Marching upon Cordova, Abd-er-Rahman besieged the city. Balj was wounded, and his injuries caused his death. From this time, for about three centuries, the capital of Andalusia was held by the Omeyyad line, and during this rule the city reached the highest stage of its might and magnificence. The Arab writers state that the independent khalifate of Cordova was founded by Abd-er-Rahman I., after conquering Yusuf, who reigned in the city. Yusuf resisted the Omeyyad troops outside the walls of Cordova, and, being worsted, he retired. Abd-er-Rahman then entered the city, and appointing the command to Abu Othman, went in pursuit of the remnant of Yusuf’s army. Meanwhile Yusuf counter-marched, returned to Cordova, and assailed Abu Othman, promising him future security for himself and his relatives if he would surrender.
It is said that Othman refused to accept the terms of surrender. But eventually Yusuf and Abd-er-Rahman came to an agreement, and both monarchs lived in the city (A.D. 757) in amity. The treaty was, however, afterwards broken by Yusuf, who left his palace, collected a force, and made war in Andalusia. He was frustrated by the Governor of Seville, but after the conflict Yusuf escaped to Toledo. Here he was recognised in the street, and murdered, by spies who hoped to receive reward for their fealty to Abd-er-Rahman. Yusuf’s head was sent to Cordova, and nailed to an arch of the bridge, together with the head of his son.
Upon attaining the throne, Abd-er-Rahman began to turn his energies to the development of Cordova. He had a passion for building. A new palace arose, mosques and baths were erected, and an aqueduct was constructed to bring pure water from the mountains. In 786 Abd-er-Rahman supervised the building of the huge and splendid Mezquita.
In character the first Omeyyad ruler was humane, eloquent, and brave. He had red hair, a fresh skin, and high cheek-bones. His form was tall and supple, and he was fond of exercise, especially the sport of falconry. His dress was always of white linen, and he lived simply.
There are, however, blots upon the reputation of Abd-er-Rahman I. He was of violent temper, and subject to strong prejudices. His treatment of Abu Othman, Temain, and other allies, who had assisted him in gaining power, was not generous. He reigned for over thirty-three years, and was buried in Cordova.
Hisham, son of Abd-er-Rahman, succeeded in the government of Cordova. He was esteemed as a wise king, and under his direction the work of building and adorning the Mezquita was continued. Hisham founded schools for teaching the Arabic language, and he restored the long bridge over the Guadalquivir.
The next ruler was Hakem, who continued the work of enlarging and improving the mosque. This sovereign was soon confronted with the trials of a rebellion in the city, and a very grievous period of famine. A poet of Cordova wrote:
‘Time has brought on sterility and famine, but the calamity itself has proved a benefit to Al-Hakem. It has insured his rule, and delivered him of many a rebellious subject.’