New-York tribune., 1902-05-26
A HAUNTED CITY.
CORDOvA. WITH ITS MOsQUE-A DREAM
LAND WITH A STRAIN OF FATALISM.
COrdoVa. Nav s.

and closely in touch with European life, to ST.
lent deathlike Cordova, haunted with the men,
ories of a storied past. black eyed porter. con-
Quoting me TO hotel early in the morning after
a nights journey from Madrid. attempted 10
convince me that there was life in the weird
white town, for he paused sententiously on the
way to give me a passing glimpse of an empty
bull arena but in spite OF his air of triumph
fanced were threading our way through
the maze of high walled lanes that 1 was walk
ing through a half f-negIected cemetery. The i'm
preston strengthened as l made. in the
course Of the day. the circuit of the Alameda TO
the mosque and the Roman bridge and stroied
at random among the winding streets leading
from one Renaissance Gothic church to an
other. The town silent and empty; beggarS
at the entrances of the churches were too
drowsy to humble for coppers; children seemed
to have lost their voices and to have forgotten
how to smile; here and there a donkey with pam
iers filled with firewOod stood in the roadway
awaiting his masters appea rance from the wine
shop; but otherwise there were no signs of traffic
movement. There were few glints of color
among the grim. whitened walls. and when there
was bright glimpse of we'll kept patio, with
roses blooming behind statuary and fountains
playing in parterres of green. one was remind
ed OF the newer and less neglected sections of a
cemetery. The palms the aloes and the elms OF
the Alameda supplied a sympathetic environ
ment for a city of the dead, and the stagnant
Cuadalquivir. swollen by the weirs of the an
cient Moorish mills, was bOrdered In the dis
tance with solemn olive groves. How grim and
austere was the contrast between this ghostly
Andalusian town and gay. bustling Barcelona.
with It's workaday pOpulace, it's noisy promen-
ades and cafes and its sparkling night life!
Out of modern Europe had come TO a haunt
ed dreamland in the rich mists of tropical sun
light. where caliphs had held court and where
Arab artifcers had wrought in marble and
cedar wood until there was forest of delicate
columns hlossoming in foriated capitals and
LEAKAGE of fretwork and arabesque underneath
dull red archways and a richly decorated roof
of crimson and gold. The sacred city, with its
scores OF mosques. its nurseries of learning and
its schools of decorative art. might have de-
clined. faded and degenerated into a squald
town. with cobblestone alleys and whitewashed
walls; but the mosque remained a monument to
its golden age. and was indestructible. II mat
tered not how many hundreds of those delicately
carved shafts of marble. jasper and porphyry
had been ruthlessly felled, nor how many square
yards of the cedarwood ceiling had been re-
placed with commonplace vaulting IN order that
nests of gaudy chapels might be built along the
outermost aisles and lofty Renaissance choir
constructed in the centre. Every act of artistic
desecration had impaired fascination and gla-
mour what remained.
In this neglected and ruined city. from which
nearly every other trace Of the glory OF the
Moors had disappeared. the mosque had been
invincible against the ravages of time and the
crimes of Renaissance builders and adapters.
The lofty bell tower. with its vane and figure OF
ST. Raphael. after two recOnstructions. was
transformed by imagination into the primitive
minaret with gilded balls. silvered lilies and
golden pomegranate. The Court OF Oranges.
10 Had for
superhuous cathedral offices. suggested by its
fountains, palms and golden fruit the Oriental
repose of the Moorish Court OF Ablutions- The
unity Of the mosque and the court had been i'm
paired by the closing Of many Of the arched
gateways and the perspective of the vast in
terror had been marred by the construction OF
the central choir with its silver bronze altar;
but the genius of the Arab triumphed over every
act of mutilation and vandalism, and over every
generation of neglect. and forced the modern
pilgrim to wander among those glades OF mar
BILE trees and to dream OF the mosque as II was
in its glory with a rich mosaic flooring in place
of the rough tiles with the openwork roof of
red and gold above the horseshoe arches. and
with thousands Of hanging lamps sparkling with
Jewels 10 illuminate the mosacs and arabesques
OF the walls.
With a monument of the past so overpowering
in its fascination as the mosque it is not strange
bat COrdOVa
town with a dream life of it's own. II is in
deed living mainly on its memories Of bygone
greatness. 1t lacks occupation and visible
means Of subsistence. The very ground on
which IL stands smacks of the tragic pathOs OF
mortality Its history neither began nor ended
with the Arab invasion. The foundations OF the
Moorish bridge over the yellow Guadalquivir
where one could look backward upon the grim
fortress mosque. with it's bell tower. and out
ward toward the blue Sierra, were Roman work;
and before either the Arabs or the Romans were
in AndaIusia the Ph9nicians and the Greeks
had found there the gold and silver OF Tarshish.
The final expulsion of the Moors cOincided with
the discoveries OF Columbus. and new era of
greatness for Andalusia opened with the estab-
lishment of the Spanish Empire beyond the
seas From Tarshish 10 the loss Of the last
strongholds OF colonial power in the Antilles and
the Philippines is 2 far cry, yet there has been
a uniform trend Of race tendencies. The last
stage Of vicissitude OF Spanish fortune Is re-
fected with terrible realism by the decadence
OF the ancient capital of the MOors-the Mecca
of the West The memorial Of its greatness
and glory Is there In its massive mosque, but
the spirit seems to have gone out of the popu-
lace. Beggars are summing themselves in the
plazas: industry has ceased in the main streets;
there Is no movement Of traffic in the somno-
lant 1voebegone town and there is mourning in
every household over brave Andaluslans VINO
were among the one hundred thousand victims |
of warfare and pestilence in the last battle 1or
empire in the East and the West Indies.
There may be a strain Of fatalism IN the
Moorish blood of Andalusia. 1t ought to be
easier for the men of the South TO reconcile |
themselves 10 what they consider as inevitable |
than II is for the proud Castilian In the North to
accent the decline of national prestige The |
AndaIusians OF Cordova, Granada and Seville |
st..,...,,- Oriental In their indolent habits \