Part 4

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 not wanting 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 be allowed 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.

SEVILLE UNDER THE CASTILIAN KINGS

The outward 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. No _mihrab_ was 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 of the 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 vernacular _madeja_; the device thus reads _no 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_, _y invicta_). 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 rambling _incognito_ through the poorer quarters 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! the light 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 de Guzman. 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 had behaved 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 public of 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

“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 gorgeous _patios_, whose walls have witnessed many a scene of pomp, tragedy, and pathos. The spell of the past holds one; and before the imagination troops a long procession of illustrious sovereigns, courtiers, counsellors, and menials.”

The 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 this _patio_. 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 and splendour.” 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. This _patio_ is 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.