Part 6

Like Seneca, the Arab teacher Averroes was a rigidly plain liver. He contented himself with common raiment, slept on hard couches, and made only one meal in twenty-four hours. Averroes was not only reputed for his culture and his philosophical treatises; he bore the character of amiability, simplicity of manner, and extreme courteousness. He rises far above Seneca in the conduct of life and the application of his principles to actions. He was a true moral philosopher. Cordova has produced many illustrious sons, but certainly not a greater man since his day.

For some time the philosophy of Averroes was regarded as highly dangerous among the Moors of Cordova. It was considered equally injurious to the Christian faith, for all the works of the Arab doctor were placed upon the Catholic Index.

Cordova gave many valiant soldiers to the world, but none more brave than the Gran Capitan. The hero’s name was Fernandez Gonsalvo, or Hernandez de Cordova. He was born in 1453, and arose to fame about 1495. ‘Nursed amid the din of battle,’ Gonsalvo accompanied his father to the courts of Alfonso and Isabella. He fought in Portugal, showing remarkable intrepidity at the great battle of Albuera. At Monte Frio the Great Captain led the besiegers in scaling the ramparts. At Granada his horse was killed beneath him, but he mounted that of his attendant, who lost his life in the encounter. In the Calabrian campaign, Gonsalvo led the army. For his prowess he was made Viceroy of Naples.

The life of the Gran Capitan is a chapter of moving romance. In the Spanish estimation he is almost as mighty and adorable as the Cid. Gonsalvo was over sixty when he died. He was a born commander, capable of judging character and of leading men, and possessed of extraordinary bravery and coolness in action. His manners were urbane and pleasing.

The city is associated with at least three famous painters of the Andalusian school: Pedro de Cordova, Pablo de Céspedes, and Juan Valdés Leal. The Museo of Cordova is not a very important collection of paintings, but it contains some works of Céspedes, Zurbarán, and Ribera. Zurbarán’s best work is not to be seen in Cordova. Ribera’s ‘Rest on the Flight into Egypt,’ in the Museo, is a fine picture, but it is injured by the state into which it has fallen through neglect. It is deplorable that so many of the paintings in the collection at Cordova are in a condition of decay. During our visit to the city we were appalled at the indifference exhibited by those in charge of the pictures.

There is evidence that Cordova under the Moors contained some works of the early Spanish schools of painting. Pablo de Céspedes, in an essay, states: ‘In the parish church of San Pedro, in our city of Cordova, on the right wall, there are many paintings of those times which escaped the barbarous fury of the Moors when they held that place, though they have not escaped the ravages of time and the neglect of those intrusted with the care of the church. The consequence is, they are scarcely intelligible from the injury which they have received and the dust which has accumulated upon them. This sort of painting, rude and savage as it is, appears to have been the ashes whence was destined to spring that fairest Phœnix of modern art which has since burst forth in such splendour and riches.’

The first painter of Cordova of whom we have a brief record is Pedro de Cordoba. In 1475 he painted the Annunciation, which is still to be seen in the Capilla del Santo Cristo of the Mezquita. The picture is representative of Gothic art; but it is in a poor light, and the canvas is in a condition of neglect.

Cordova was ranked as the second centre of art in Andalusia; and the Italian influence, which succeeded the Gothic, was exemplified in the productions of the cultured and versatile Pablo de Céspedes, who was born in the city in 1538. This artist, who wrote a celebrated poem on the art of painting, is ranked among the writers as well as the painters of his nation. He studied in Italy, and became one of the canons of the Cathedral of Cordova. In Rome he painted frescoes after the manner of Correggio. ‘The Last Supper,’ and two pictures of ‘St. John’ and ‘St. Andrew,’ are in the Mezquita, and in these we see the intellectual quality of this painter’s art. Cean Bermudez, the Spanish critic, ranked Pablo de Céspedes high as a colourist, and especially in flesh-tints. Most of the pictures by Céspedes have perished.

Juan de Valdés Leal was born in Cordova in 1630. Most of the painter’s life was spent in Seville, where he was regarded as the rival of Murillo. His most sincere, and one of his earliest compositions is in Cordova, in the Church of the Carmen. This work is interesting because it instances the dramatic qualities of the painter. The retablo is painted in eleven different parts, representing the life of the prophet Elijah. Most of the work of Valdés Leal is to be seen in Seville.

Antonio de Castillo y Saavedra, born in Cordova in 1603, revived the best traditions of Céspedes. Castillo was one of the first of the Spanish landscape-painters, but his strength lay in the presentment of figures. His colour is not his _forte_, as will be seen from a study of his pictures in the Museo. Perhaps his most admirable work is the ‘Denial of St. Peter.’ Castillo unfortunately attempted to imitate Murillo, and it is said that he was envious of the reputation of that more popular painter. This artist seems to have spent most of his time in Cordova, where he died in 1667.

The poet Luis de Gongora was born in the city in 1561. His first studies were at the University of Salamanca, whither he was sent at the age of fifteen, to learn law. While at the College he became exceedingly worn in health, but his disease was not mortal, and his recovery was accounted miraculous. While still a youth Gongora wrote poetry. He showed but little aptitude for the profession of lawyer, and upon his return to Cordova he cultivated his bent for poetry.

In person Luis de Gongora was tall and powerfully built. He was a caustic writer, and in his first period his style was simple and delightful. But he became more mannered and affected as he grew older, and his later work was marred by pomposity, extravagance, and often by sheer absurdity. His mannerisms were, however, regarded as the fruit of rare genius by his host of disciples and imitators. Gongorism became the fashion among poetasters in Spain, and the followers of this master of eccentricity were slavish flatterers and fanatical worshippers.

At forty-five Gongora left Cordova and entered the Church. He afterwards lived in Madrid. In the capital he was under the patronage of influential hidalgos and nobles, and Philip III. made him his honorary chaplain. Gongora eventually returned to his native place, where he died at the age of sixty-six, in the year 1627.

In spite of his stilted style and metrical defects, Gongora was endowed with true poetic talent. Writing of him, Lope de Vega said: ‘I have known this gentleman for eight-and-twenty years, and I hold him to be possessed of the rarest and most excellent talent of any in Cordova, so that he need not yield even to Seneca or Lucan, who were natives of the same town.’

APPENDIX I

THE GREAT MOSQUE OF CORDOVA

It is not a little singular that the present Cathedral of Cordova is better known to the inhabitants of the city as _La Mezquita_, or Mosque, than by its Christian designation; which circumstance may be taken as a proof of the great influence exerted over Spanish thought and feeling by the Moorish occupation of the Peninsula.

The truth is that Spanish and Moorish interests had much in common, and both nations had equal pride in the celebration of notable deeds performed by Mussulman or Christian. The mingling of the two peoples after the conquest of Granada gave, at least to the commonalty of both nations, a spirit of charity which it had been better to foster than to extinguish.

This gentle sentiment is well expressed in a lament by Amados de los Rios, a great Spanish antiquary and Orientalist, who sings a mournful requiem over the departed glories of the Mosque, once the model of Arab architecture, and the pride of Islam:--

‘Neither the sumptuous Christian fabric that to-day rises in the midst of those countless columns, nor all the treasures of art lavished upon it by the celebrated artists of the sixteenth century who erected it, nor that interminable series of chapels of every epoch which, resting against the walls of the Mosque, disfigure it; nor the clumsy angels that seem to suspend their flight to shed glory over the divine service, nor the words of the Evangelist sounding from the seat of the Holy Spirit, can dispel or banish in the slightest degree the majesty of those wandering shades, that in vain seek in the sanctuary the sacred volume whose leaves, according to tradition, were enamelled with the blood of the Khalif Othman, martyr to the faith. A world of souvenirs here enthralls the mind of the traveller as he gazes with a feeling of sorrow upon these profanations,--works dictated by the intolerant yet sincere faith of our ancestors, impelled by the desire of banishing for ever from that spot consecrated to the law of Jesus, the spirit of Mohammed and the ghosts of his slaves that haunt it, and will for ever haunt it while it exists. For, in spite of the mutilations it has endured, and of the changes it has undergone, there is impressed upon it, by a superior ineradicable law, the seal of the art that inspired it, and the character of the people by whom it was planned and erected.’

Don Amados is not alone in his eloquent, if unavailing protest. When Charles V., in 1526, visited Cordova, and observed St. Peter’s (the Coro) rising out of the very centre of the Mosque, he rebuked the Bishop, Alonso Manriquez, who had erected the incongruous edifice, in no measured terms. When the king saw the extent of the mischief, he said: ‘You have built here what you or any one might have built elsewhere; but you have spoilt what was unique in the world.’ Alas! the monarch had forgotten, or did not choose to remember, that the declaration came with a very bad grace from one who, for his never-completed palace at Granada, had torn down whole Courts and Halls of the Alhambra.

Like most Moorish buildings, the exterior of the Great Mosque of Cordova has a somewhat forbidding aspect, and rises before one much unlike a house of prayer.

The vast interior of the Mosque may be likened to a petrified grove of palm-trees, their stems strangely varied in colour, and in amazing perspective to all points of the compass. Marble columns of every hue, from pure white and translucent alabaster, through the intervening red, the precious verde antique, jasper, porphyry, all shades, to the deepest black; the variety only to be explained by the fact that the great builders Abd-er-Rahman I., together with his son and successor, Hisham I., procured their materials whenever and wherever they could ‘acquire’ them. Many of the columns being too tall, were ‘topped’ to supply a deficiency in the length of another--a process eloquent of the pillage of many a distant city.[1]

All historians agree that the great Mosque of Cordova owes its inception to Abd-er-Rahman I., the first sovereign to reign independently over Andalus. Directly the Sultan found himself comparatively free from his turbulent rivals, and firmly established on the throne, he began the building of his royal palace--that of the pleasure-house called Rissafah, and of the great Mosque. The circumstances which led to the erection of the Mosque are thus related:--

When a city surrendered to the Moors by capitulation, it was their custom to divide with the Christians the principal temple of that city. So, for instance, when Damascus was taken, the principal temple was divided, half of it remaining in the hands of the inhabitants for their form of worship, while the other half was appropriated to the use of the Moslems, who forthwith converted their moiety into a Mosque.

According to this usage, when the Arabs entered Cordova they divided with the Christians their principal place of worship, all other churches, both within and without the city, being immediately pulled down. The Moslems remained for a long time satisfied with this state of affairs, until their number increased, and Cordova became a very populous city, owing to the Arabian Amirs having taken up their abode in it, and made it the seat of Government. The Mosque could then no longer contain the worshippers, and roof after roof was added to accommodate them, the roof of each successive addition being inferior in height to the preceding structure, until the roof of the latest addition was so low as to be but a few feet from the floor, preventing the people from standing with any comfort under it.

Upon the consolidation of the Omeyyah dynasty, Abd-er-Rahman at once turned his attention to the enlargement of the Mosque. He sent for the chiefs of the Christian Church, and proposed to purchase from them that part of the building which remained in their hands, in order that he might utilise the space for the better observance of the religion of the Prophet.

After much negotiation, the Christians agreed to relinquish their moiety, on condition of being allowed to rebuild or repair a church outside the walls, and of holding it independently of the Moslems. The church of the Christians was consecrated wholly to the worship of their God.[2] This being granted by Abd-er-Rahman, and the Christians having received the sum agreed upon, the Sultan demolished the old place of worship (A.D. 784-5), and laid upon its site the foundations of the great Mosque, which became one of the wonders of the world.

The building was carried on with incredible activity during the whole of his reign, for the Sultan begrudged no expenditure that could add to its magnificence; yet it was not until nine years after the death of Abd-er-Rahman that the Mosque was completed according to the original plan. The design was accomplished by the Sultan Hisham I. in the years 794-5, and the Mosque received considerable improvements at the hands of his successors; indeed, it can be safely said that none of the Sultans of the illustrious family of Omeyyah who reigned in Cordova failed to make some estimable addition, or contributed in some way to the decoration of the sumptuous building. Hisham’s son, Abd-er-Rahman II. (A.D. 822-852), ordered much ‘gilt work’ (_Zak-hrafah_) to be made, but died before the work was carried out. Mohammed, his son and successor (A.D. 852-886), continued the work begun by his father, and brought it to a close. Mohammed’s son, Mundhir, in a short reign (A.D. 886-888), is recorded as having made improvements in the building. The great Khalif, An-nassir (Abd-er-Rahman III., A.D. 912-961), caused the old minaret to be pulled down and a more magnificent one to be erected. Al-hakem Al-mustanser-billah (Hakem II., A.D. 961-976) made important additions. Seeing, on his accession, that Cordova was every day increasing in extent, and the population rapidly growing, he directed his attention to the enlargement of the Mosque, and completed the additional building known by his name, by which the structure, already gorgeous, reached the highest perfection, the work of his time being executed in a manner that bewilders by its excellence.

Lastly, in the reign of his successor Hisham II. (A.D. 976-1009), and under the administration of his famous _Hajib_ (Lord Chamberlain and Prime Minister) Al-Mansur, or Almanzor, as he is more commonly called, an addition was made which almost doubled the capacity of the building. A vast number of houses were pulled down, the sites and the lands belonging to them appropriated for the extension of the Mosque; the addition falling nowise short, in respect of solidity, beauty of design, and boldness of execution, of those of any of his predecessors, unless we except the transcendent work of Hakem II.

The grace and purity of construction and decoration in Cordova reached their zenith during the reign of Hakem II. He it was who built the _maksurrah_[3] within the Mosque, a production that has been described by contemporary writers as one of the most exquisite fabrics ever raised by man. In the two jambs of the arch forming the entrance to the _mih-rab_[4] were four columns of great value: two were made of green marble, the other two of lapis-lazuli.[5]

Near the mih-rab there once stood a pulpit constructed by Hakem II., equalled by none other in the world for workmanship and materials. It was built of ivory and the rarest woods, such as ebony, sandal, almond, Indian plantain, citron, aloe, and so forth. This beautiful object was to be seen in the Cathedral of Cordova as late as the middle of the sixteenth century, when it was dismembered and its materials employed in the construction of a Christian altar. It was known to the Spaniards under the name of _carro de Almanzor_, the chariot of Al-mansur--probably because it stood upon wheels.

Not only did the Khalif Hakem II. make many additions to the great Mosque of Cordova, but improvements which greatly benefited the city. In place of the old reservoir for purification in the Court of the Mosque, he built four others at two sides of the Mosque, and these he filled by means of a canal which, taking the water from the hills of Cordova, poured it into an immense reservoir of marble which fed the four minor cisterns. These marble receptacles for water may yet be seen in the Mezquita of Cordova; the quarry whence they were extracted is likewise indicated by the peasants at a few miles from the city. The water, running constantly, after supplying the needs of the Mosque, was distributed into three conduits parting from three sides of the Mosque, East, North, and West, thus supplying the city and suburbs.

The actual dimensions of the Mosque are difficult to establish. An excellent authority says that in length from North to South, the Mosque measures six hundred and twenty feet, in width four hundred and forty feet. Mr. Waring, in his _Notes of an Architect in Spain_ says the Mosque is an oblong of three hundred and ninety-four feet by three hundred and sixty feet. The famous Orange Court is in length two hundred and twenty feet, and, being within the boundary walls of the Mosque, is probably included in the first measurement given.

It is impossible to fix with any degree of certainty the number of columns contained in the Mosque during the time of Mohammedan supremacy. Ambrosio de Morales and the Infante Don Juan Manuel, both of whom described the Mosque before the columns were reduced in number by the unnecessary, not to say barbarous, alterations to which the building has been subjected, estimate the figures at one thousand and twelve; but it is only too certain that when the Mosque was converted into a Christian Church very many columns were removed to make room for altars, chapels, and the like.

No less than one hundred columns were comprised within the _maksurrah_, which was further provided with three doors of exquisite workmanship, one of which was covered with pure gold, as were the walls of the _mih-rab_. The floor of the _maksurrah_, it is said, was paved with silver, and that the pavements adjacent to it were covered with _sofeysafa_, an obscure word which Don Pascual de Gayangos believes to be a transposition of the Arabic word _foseyfasa_,[6] signifying enamel work of exceptional brilliancy, laid down by Greek workmen whom Abd-er-Rahman had brought to Cordova for the task.

The ceiling of the Mosque was formerly covered with oval cartouches bearing appropriate monitory inscriptions and pious sentences, such as ‘Be not one of the negligent,’ ‘Felicity,’ ‘Blessing,’ ‘There is no God but God, to whom all beings address themselves in their need,’ thus inciting the minds of the faithful to contemplation and prayer. Some few of the cartouches are still remaining, but the inscriptions were carefully effaced at the time when the Mosque was transformed into a Christian temple. Those in the _mih-rab_, and in the angles near the tower, were spared.

The number of brazen chandeliers of different sizes in the Mosque is computed at upwards of two hundred, and the number of cups attached and containing oil, at upwards of seven thousand. Some of the oil-reservoirs for the great lamps were Christian bells deprived of their clappers, afterwards inverted, and suspended from the roof. It is known that in the many expeditions against the Christian, bells were frequently removed from their churches and brought to Cordova. Sometimes the metal of the bells was recast into forms more in accordance with the Moorish style of ornament.

APPENDIX II

CORDOVA

The most elegant description of Cordova is that contained in the epistle of Ash-shakandi, a native of Shakandah, a town close to Cordova, on the southern bank of the Guadalquivir. He calls Cordova ‘the repository of science, the minaret of piety and devotion, the abode of magnificence, superiority, and elegance: neither Baghdad nor Damascus can compete with it. An idea of its worth can only be arrived at by comparing the city to a beautiful bride of whose dower it should form part. Cordova may be properly called the military camp of Andalus, the common _rendezvous_ of those splendid armies which, with the help of Allah, defeated at every encounter the worshippers of the Crucified. Its great Mosque, lighted with bronze lamps made from Christian bells, had its foundations formed of the materials of demolished churches brought to Cordova by Christian captives.’

During the reigns of the monarchs of Gothic descent, Cordova cannot be said to have been the capital of Andalus, for although it served as a place of temporary residence for some of their kings, it was not, properly speaking, the court of the empire. By the establishment of Islam within it, its importance increased; the city became the capital of the Mohammedan empire in Spain and the stronghold of the family of Merwan,[7] the two important cities of Seville and Toledo quickly acknowledging its pre-eminence.

Upon the coming of the Beni Omeyyah, its Sultans exalted Cordova above any city of Andalus, by reason of its convenient situation and delightful temperature. In course of time Cordova became, says El-Makkari, ‘the meeting-place of the learned from all countries, and owing to the power and splendour of the mighty dynasty that ruled over it, it contained more excellences than any other city on the face of the earth.’

There is a highly characteristic anecdote of the relative merits of Cordova and Seville, the refined society of the one city being devoted to literature, while that of the other was dedicated to music. ‘When a rich man dies at Seville,’ says a native writer, ‘and his heirs desire to sell his library, it is sent to Cordova for disposal; when, on the other hand, a musician dies at Cordova and his instruments are to be sold, the custom is to send them to Seville.’