CHAPTER VII CORDOVA N the way from Seville to Cordova we passed several "Castles in Spain." One occupied the top of a mountain to the steep sides of which olive trees were clinging as sturdily as when, centuries ago, they yielded their abundance to the retinue of El Gran Señor.* Another stronghold half way up the side of a valley frowned from the edge of a cliff a thousand feet high. These grim old castles still guard the mountain passes, bidding defiance to Time, the All-destroyer. The Spaniards are a proud race, and despite the fanaticism that has done so much to destroy their art, despite the barrenness of their land, for, excepting Andalusia, it is barren, with poverty actually staring them in the face, they live upon the memory of their past greatness and are content so long as they have sufficient food and the indispensable guitar. Cordova, on the right bank of the Guadalquivir, is seventy-five miles northeast of Seville. Its walls are Moorish, but erected on Roman foundations. The principal plaza is called "El Gran Capitan." A fine drive surrounds it and from this, in all directions, radiate narrow winding streets. The glory of the city is the great mosque built by Abdu-rrahman I. It is said to be the largest in the world and ranks third in sanctity. The exterior, with its heavy square towers, is relieved by a beautiful courtyard, containing fine orange trees and a fountain around which gather women carrying huge earthen water jars on their hips. The interior is one of the most wonderful examples of Moorish architecture extant. One seems to be entering * The great lord. Moorish Sultan. a city of pillars, for nearly a thousand monoliths* still remain of the original twelve hundred. The variety of marbles composing the columns is fairly bewildering. They are twelve feet in height, hewn out of jasper, porphyry and other precious materials, and divide the mosque into twenty-nine aisles one way and nineteen the other. Upon them is supported a double tier of Moorish arches. There is a heptagonal chapel on one side, with a roof composed of a single block of white marble carved in the form of a shell. A path has been worn in the stone floor by the feet of pilgrims, who here fulfilled their vow and obtained the blessing usually granted at Mecca. The exterior of this chapel is ornamented with rare mosaics sent from Constantinople. They still glitter as freshly as if set yesterday, and are considered by many artists to be the finest in the world. The Mak-surah, where the sultan prayed on Fridays, was formerly paved with pure silver and decorated with gold and precious stones. Imagine this labyrinth lighted, as it was in the past, by 4,700 perfumed lamps and you will have a faint idea of what must have been the enchantment of the scene. The Spaniards did their best to destroy the beauty of this structure by raising the roof of the central portion and inserting a high altar, choir and chapel. When Charles V. returned to Cordova and saw this change he rebuked the authorities of the cathedral, saying: "You have built here what could have been erected as well anywhere else, and you have destroyed what was unique in the world." Leaving the mosque, we walked through a number of narrow streets, until we came to a plaza where cadets were at drill. On one side of the square was the old Royal Palace. One wing, surmounted by two serrated + towers, is used as a prison. Mere slits in the wall serve as windows. Adjacent to this building, and directly under its stone towers, is a garden filled with date, palm, orange and lemon trees, the latter loaded with fruit. Climbing roses fill the air with their perfume, and sparkling waters gush through an opening in one of the old stone walls into the baths * A pillar cut from a single stone. Notched on the edge. below. These basins, where once the favorites of kings sported like mermaids, are now filled with gold and silver fish. Near by flows the river spanned by a Moorish bridge of great length. The stone gate-way of the city makes a splendid background for the gaily dressed peasants who congregate there, their donkeys' heads decked with red and yellow woolen balls and queer little bells, while awaiting their turn at the gate, where packs are examined and customs paid. Across the river are some old mills, with open horseshoe arches. Oh! if you could hear the cathedral bells, as I did when I stood on that bridge! They are so sweet, so solemn, that the very memory of them makes me homesick! We cannot help remarking the extreme youth of the soldiers we meet in Spain. We are told that mere boys are being forced into the army to take the places of the thousands of men who have gone to Cuba to quell the insurrection. In spite of our disapproval of the policy of the Spaniards regarding the government of Cuba, we must admire their courage and determination to die fighting rather than yield what they firmly believe to be their rights. CHAPTER VIII GRANADA N leaving Cordova for Granada, we travelled directly south toward Bobadilla, the first half of the distance, passing villages and towns still showing traces of Moorish architecture. Montilla, a pretty place, is completely enclosed by its ancient wall. The surrounding country. shows great fertility. Further on, at the foot of a steep hill crowned by an ancient Moorish tower, is the little town of Aguilar. In Spanish águila means eagle, so my fancy leads me to connect the two words and call this tower "The Eagle's Nest." It was probably the home of the valiant knight, Alonso de Aguilar, the friend of Ponce de Leon, with whose search for the fountain of eternal youth we are all familiar. We changed cars at Bobadilla and entered one containing an American family of three. They were in fine attire and evidently thought we were quite beneath their notice, for their manners were so "snippy." However, we survived. Those of our countrymen whom we have happened to meet have, as a rule, been uncompanionable; either they are extremely reserved, or they are nouveaux riches.* On the contrary, we have found foreigners most delightful. Arriving in Granada at nightfall, we took a carriage, after making a bargain with the driver, and started in the direction of the Alhambra. Passing through the city, in and out of narrow streets, where the wheels almost grazed the houses on either side, up and up we went, until, entering a stone gateway, we found ourselves within the Alhambra gardens. A drive winding in serpentine fashion led us to the top of the hill. In the gardens are great elms, said to have been planted by the Duke of Wellington. Here in *Persons who have recently acquired wealth. |