Churches and Monuments: Cordova and Sevilla
From Spain of the Spanish by Janie Villiers-Wardell, 1909.
From: Unknown To: 1909 C.E.
Location: Cordova, Spain; Seville, Spain
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
From Spain of the Spanish by Janie Villiers-Wardell, 1909.
The Mosque of Cordova
The Mosque of Cordova is called "The Wonder of Spain," and with reason. It is so wonderful that mere words are unequal to the task of describing it: it must be felt to be realised.
It is an immense building, covering as much ground as St. Peter's at Rome, and it was built—so we are told by learned men—without a plan. More than this, its architects were Arabs who— again I bow before the knowledge of the learned—understood nothing of architectural laws. By men who were "utterly deficient in constructive ingenuity"!
It frequently happens in Spain, especially in the south, that the doings of the ancients attract attention to the doings of the modems, and in Cordova—on passing from the Court of Oranges into the Mosque, with its 860 colimms and its nineteen exquisite aisles—the temptation comes to invoke the spirit of Allah and to murmur, "I wonder?"
In the interior of the Mosque the original roof was of delicately-carved larch wood, enriched with gorgeous incrustations in Vermillion and gold: from this roof 900 chandeliers—showing about 8,000 lamps—were suspended. The Koran was kept in a pulpit of ivory and rare woods, incrusted with precious stones. In the year 1713 the superb roof of the Mosque had to be repaired throughout, and at that period the cross-vaulting, at present seen, was introduced.
In all Mosques the chief point of interest and of supreme beauty is the Mihrab, or prayer-niche, which is always placed in the direction of Mecca.
In the Mosque of Cordova there were originally three Mihrabs, but of these the first has entirely disappeared. The second Mihrab, which was constructed by Abderrahman II about the year 835, has a glorious roof of shell, cut from a single block, which contrasts most effectively with the roof of the vestibule just outside, which is enriched with mosaics in vivid shades of vermillion and emerald and sapphire and gold.
The third Mihrab is regarded as the gem of the whole building. It was erected by Al-Hakim about the year 965, and for the decoration of this Holy of Holies the then Greek Emperor of Constantinople sent a vast number of skilled workmen to Cordova, with 400 cwts. of mosaic tesserae. Al-Hakim at the same time erected a new Maksura, which was the railed platform reserved for the Caliph and his court.
In wandering through the Mosque—and it does not reveal its most precious charms to those who only devote a few hours to its contemplation—special points are frequently reached from which new and rare beauties are discovered. For example, in the extreme south of the building in the Segunda Ampliacion of Al-Hakim II, there is a wonderful view of the mosaics: the soft but brilliant light glints on the pavement of purest marble and touches gently the gold lettering of the Arab inscriptions on their background of deepest, most Heavenly blue.
I drew attention a little time ago to the fact that the Mosque at Cordova was built "without plan" and by persons "deficient in constructive ingenuity," and it is impossible to avoid reflecting on these facts when contemplating the great Renaissance Choir which was erected by the Christians in the very midst of this enchanting building.
It was in the reign of the Emperor Charles V, just about the time of the Reformation, that this choir was built, and so great a wave of indignation did it create in Cordova that it is on record that the Town Council threatened with death all those who took part in the work. However, these threats were of no avail, and in the very heart of the Mosque, which was one of the wonders of the world, the Renaissance Choir was built.
In later days even the Emperor himself repented of what he had permitted to be done, and visiting the Mosque he exclaimed: "Why was I not told of the wonder of this building? You have built what you or any others could have erected anywhere, but you have destroyed something that was unique in the whole world."
Of the many points of interest connected with the ancient Mezquita—or Mosque—of the Arabs, none is more enthralling than the study of how and why this "Wonder of the World" arrived at its fulness of beauty and grace. It represents a great work of love, and of fervent reverence, for, as Khalif succeeded Khalif, each one added some new and rare beauty to the holy place. One overlaid the myriads of columns with purest gold: another sent for the best Byzantine artists
to enrich the walls with mosaics: yet another decorated the walls and entrance gates. One of the most famous of the Khalifs added a large and specially beautiful minaret which was crowned with apples of gold and silver. Each ruler gave of the best he could procure to add to the glory of Allah and of the sanctuary of the Koran.
Cordova itself is one of the most interesting cities of Spain. In the long ago days it was called "The Bride of Andalusia," and even to the present day it retains much of its fresh and gentle charm; it is a curiously silent city.
Beautifully situated—far more beautifully than Sevilla—on a gentle incline, the city at first sight suggests an amphitheatre: it is spread out on a semicircular hill and below is the silver streak of the Guadalquiver.
Cordova is still essentially a Moorish city. Viewed from the tower of the Cathedral, the tiled roofs of the lime-washed houses show burnt amber against the sapphire sky. A burning southern sun showers melted gold on the Bridge of Calahorra, and on the masses of thick-spreading olives; here and there great palm trees are silhouetted against the sky.
A City of Sleep—a City of Memories. A city in which it is worth while to pause and think of the past. Of the days when the Visigothic King Leovigild took the town from the Byzantines and in 571 made it an episcopal see. Of the days when Cordova, as capital of the Caliphate, became one of the wealthiest cities of Europe and a centre of learning. Of the gorgeous days of its greatest grandeur and prosperity in the reigns of Abderrahman II and Abderrahman III, from the year 822 to 961.
And then, as a contrast, to contemplate, for a moment, Cordova in later days, under the sway of the Christians, when—to quote a well-known writer—”The magnificent buildings, the marvels of which are celebrated by Arabic writers with Oriental hyperbole, fell into ruin: the irrigation-works were neglected, and the once exuberantly fertile campiña became a barren steppe."
Sevilla
It is not far from Cordova to Sevilla: only about three hours and a half in the train. And it is certain that all those who read these pages must see Sevilla—for the first time—in the spring season. I claim this as a reward for any moment of pleasure or of profit I may have been able to give them! For in the spring season Sevilla is in full beauty. Fresh, fragrant, and brilliantly gay as a young beauty in the first glories of a successful debut.
I am aware that many writers on Spain are of opinion that southern cities are only at their best in the full blaze of midsummer, but with this idea I am not in accord. January, February, March, April, May, and then again October, November, and December, are all good months in which to travel in Andalusia, but of these months April must most surely be awarded first place.
Sevilla is, amongst Andalusian cities, a thing apart. If it were entirely a woman instead of being merely emblematic of the feminine sex every Spaniard would describe it as—"Muy simpática! Muy española!"
And higher words of praise than these no Spaniard can speak. With infinite delight I could fill many pages with descriptions of a spot which, to me, is full of enchantment, but this chapter is devoted to “Churches and Monuments," and of these alone I must treat: happily Sevilla is specially rich in both one and the other.
The Cathedral of Sevilla
The Cathedral of Sevilla is almost the largest Gothic church in Christendom. Its total area is 124,000 sq. ft., as compared with St. Paul's in London, 84,000; Milan Cathedral, 90,000, and St. Peter's at Rome, 162,000. It was in the year 1401 that the Cathedral of Sevilla was first planned, and it was designed by foreign architects—German, it is supposed. In general arrangement it differs considerably from the large churches of England and France, for the choir is almost in the centre of the church and the capilla mayor, in which is the High Altar, is slightly to the east. And then the choir and capilla mayor are enclosed in a massive construction, so that we find a church within a church.
In its decoration the Cathedral is very Spanish; that is to say, it is rich in the beautiful carved woodwork and magnificent iron screens for which Spain has always been famous. The leading note of the cathedral is noble simplicity and quiet magnificence, and the light which enters through the seventy-five stained-glass windows is delightfully subdued: too subdued to permit of a good view of the art treasures of the side chapels. It is, however, quite possible to see and appreciate the beauty of the sculptured "Christ on the Cross," by Montañes, in the Sacristia de los Calices, and, on a clear day, the wonderful ”St. Anthony's Vision of the Holy Child” which is one of Murillo's masterpieces: this picture hangs on the wall of the Capilla del Bautisterio.
The magnificence of the treasure carefully guarded in the Sacristia Mayor of the Cathedral must be seen to be realised: it does not fall very short, in value, of the treasure of St. Peter's! The vestments alone are a marvellous sight: 200 copes laden with priceless embroideries; chasubles dating from the fourteenth century to the present day, each one a notable specimen of the embroideress's art: golden caskets, monstrances studded with precious stones, the silver Custodia of Juan de Arphe which is ten feet high, and the great silver altar, etc., etc.
One of the most interesting parts of the Cathedral is the Capilla de los Reyes which is enclosed by a remarkably fine screen. In this chapel there is the silver coffin containing the body of San Fernando—Ferdinand III who finally drove the Moors out of Sevilla. The body is in an extraordinary state of preservation, and each year on May 14th and 31st, August 22nd and November 23rd, this body is exhibited to the public while the troops march past and salute it.
I have witnessed many ceremonies in Sevilla Cathedral, but none more impressive than this homage to the long dead hero. The blast of trumpets as the troops line up in front of the coffin seems like the final call for the dead to arise!
Also in this Capilla we find, at the back of the High Altar, the famous figure of the Virgen de los Reyes, to whom the ladies of Sevilla, in 1905, presented crowns valued at £30,000.
There is a romantic and mysterious story connected with this figure; it was said that on the day that the keys of Sevilla were delivered up into the hands of King Fernando he had a dream, and in this dream he saw a figure of the Blessed Virgin, of great beauty and unlike anything he had ever before seen. To this figure he attributed his victory over the Moors.
So deeply impressed was the King that he determined to have an image made in the exact likeness of the virgin of his dream. He gave the order, with minute explanations, to the foremost sculptor of the day, but was completely dissatisfied with the result. The disappointment and dismay of the sculptor over his failure was very great, and he decided that he was unworthy such a task. Just then a wonderful statue was one morning discovered in his studio, and so great was its mysterious beauty that he hastened to show it to the King. On seeing it San Fernando was overcome with joy: "This," he declared, "is the Virgin of the Kings of Sevilla!"
Ever afterwards this statue was considered miraculous, but the heads of the Church at the present day cast considerable doubts on the story and attribute the statue to Montañes, the seventeenth-century Sevillan sculptor, who was the greatest master of polychrome carving Spain has ever known.
The Giralda
The Giralda is the oldest and most beautiful building in Sevilla; it is also one of the most unspoilt gems of Moorish work left in Spain. It takes its name from the bronze figure representing Faith with which it is capped; this figure is thirteen feet high and immensely heavy, nevertheless it turns this way or that with the lightest gust of wind; in Spanish "girar" means "to turn," hence the name which has so frequently afforded subject matter for the light-hearted guasones of Andalusia.
Originally the Giralda was the prayer-tower of the principal Moorish mosque, and it was erected as long back as 1184. It is 305 feet high, but so slender and graceful is its outline that its height is not realised, even when the ascent to the belfry is made. And how strangely fascinating are those great bells—"el Cantor," "la Gorda," "San Miguel," and the rest. They have all been christened with holy oil, and it is as good Christians that they speak forth, with no uncertain sound, through the still air which hovers over the flat roofs and green squares and giant palm trees of the White City.
They are not like sweet English bells—these brazen guardians of "Faith"; their clang and clamour is terrific, and their dissonances charm or horrify the ears, according to individual temperament, but they make you feel that you are most surely in Andalusia. In the pulsing heart of Spain!
The view from the first gallery is superb. All Sevilla stretches itself out on the plain beneath. Immediately below is the great Cathedral, with its Court of Oranges, and close by the gardens of the Alcazar and the Palacio Arzobispal. On the other side, close by the banks of the Guadalquiver, is the Plaza de Toros: low and wide, and one of the most picturesque bull rings in Spain. And, again, turning round and looking past the Alcazar, the Parque and Las Delicias—the fashionable drive of the sevillanas—and the Prado de San Sebastian.
Standing there in the bell gallery of the Giralda one realises at once how very Moorish Sevilla has remained, even to the present day. The masses of white houses, which in reality are not pure white but are washed with palest shades of pink and blue and grey and saffron, seem thrown together in careless confusion, and the winding, narrow streets look Uke single dark threads outlining an Oriental design.
On the flat roofs women are watering their carnations, for on these flat roofs, which are so remarkable a feature of Andalusian cities, are grown most of the brilliant carnations which are so much worn by the women.
The scent of orange blossoms steals upwards on the cool evening air and for a moment there is peace. But suddenly the bells again begin to speak, and so terrific is the clamour and vibration that one unconsciously moves swiftly towards the stone steps which lead downwards. And in the easy descent one gladly succumbs to the temptation to linger on each little landing, or section—of which there are thirty-five. Each view is more beautiful than that which goes before, and by the time the ground is reached Sevilla will have revealed many of her most potent charms.
Wardell, Janie Villiers. Spain of the Spanish. Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909.
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