THE richest monument of Almohade might in Seville is the beautiful AlcÁzar, or 'Castle,' which stands at but a stone's-throw from the remains of the great mosque. It is a palace of dreams, encompassed 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. As we loiter under the orange trees of quiet gardens, we picture the palace as it was when peopled by the chiefs and retinues of swarthy skin in the time of Abdelasis, and contrast what remains of the primitive structure and Morisco decoration with the successive additions by Christian kings.

The nightingales still sing among the odorous orange bloom, and in the tangles of roses birds 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.

Patio de las Doncellas

The historians of the AlcÁzar suppose that the original structure was erected in 1181 for Abu Yakub YÛsuf. Between the Puerta del LeÓn, in the Plaza del Triunfo, and the Sala de Justicia there are parts of the wall which are said to date back to the Roman times. It is generally asserted that the Moorish palace was reared on the ruins of a Roman prÆtorium, and that the original work was undertaken in the eleventh century. In its pristine form the AlcÁzar was of triangular design, and the buildings and gardens occupied a much greater space than they cover at the present day. The chief puerta was originally at the Torre de la Plata, formerly standing in the Calle de Ataranzas, but pulled down in recent years; while another point of the triangle was at the Torre del Oro, on the bank of the Guadalquivir. Within these precincts there were vast halls, council rooms, dormitories, baths and gardens. The remaining portions of the walls and the towers show that the ancient fortress was very strong; and one can understand the difficulty experienced by Fernando the Good during his long siege of the citadel.

In the Plaza de Santo Tomas is the Tower of Abdelasis, which was once part of the palace. It was from this tower that Fernando floated the Christian standard after the capture of the AlcÁzar. The chief entrance in our day is in the Plaza del Triunfo. It is called the Gate of the Lion (Puerta del LeÓn). We pass through, and come into the Patio de las Banderas (Court of the Banners), so called because a flag was hoisted here during the residence of the sovereign in the palace. The patio is surrounded by modern offices, and planted with orange trees. A roofed passage on the right side of the court leads to the wonderful MudÉjar halls and the salons of the Catholic kings. The passage is the Apeadero, or 'halting-place.' It was built by Philip V. The faÇade is in the Baroque style.

Turning to the right from the Apeadero, we follow a corridor to the Court of DoÑa Maria Padilla, the mistress of Pedro the Cruel. The court is planted with orange and lemon trees and big palms. Arched galleries of a modern character seem out of place here. But in a moment we come into the Patio de la Monteria with its beautiful Moorish faÇade. The ajimez windows, the cusped arches, and the decorations of this doorway are fine examples of Almohade art. There is an inscription in early Gothic characters, over the door, stating that 'the most noble and powerful Don Pedro, by the grace of God, King of Castile and LeÓn, caused these fortresses and palaces to be built in the era of de mill et quatrocientios y dos' (of CÆsar). The date is 1364 A.D.

We follow a passage to the Patio de las Doncellas (Court of the Maidens). This large and lofty hall has twenty-four beautiful Morisco arches, and singularly rich ornamentations. The fifty-two marble columns are of the Renaissance period, and were substituted between the years 1540 and 1564 for the original pillars. Notice the glazed tiling decorations of brilliant colouring. These date from the time of Pedro the Cruel, who added to the ancient palace until little of the original remained. Notwithstanding, the style is distinctly Moorish, and the decoration was the work of MudÉjares, whose quaint azulejos may be here studied to advantage.

The SalÓn de Embajadores adjoins the Court of the Maidens. This was the Hall of the Ambassadors. It is about thirty-three feet square. The dome is of the media naranja or 'half orange' shape, the favourite design of the Moorish architects. On the walls are portraits of the monarchs of Spain. This is the most sumptuous of the salons of the AlcÁzar; the walls veritably dazzle the spectator with their richness of colouring. Not one inch of space on the arches, walls and doorways is left without an ornate pattern. The doors of the salon are massive and finely decorated. In this hall Charles V. was married to Isabella of Portugal.

The Comedor, or dining-room, opens out of the Hall of Ambassadors on the west side. We find in this room the latest restorations of the palace. Here, on September 21, 1848, was born the Infanta DoÑa Maria Isabel de Orleans y BorbÓn, Condesa de Paris. The bedroom of Isabella the Catholic adjoins the Comedor.

Returning to the Hall of the Ambassadors, we enter the room of Philip II., and pass through it to the small Patio de las MuÑecas. Note the pigmy figures in the ornamentation, which give the name of the Dolls' Court to this chamber. The upper parts of the gallery are modern, and were constructed in the years 1855 and 1856, at the time of the last extensive restoration of the AlcÁzar.

The SalÓn of the Princes, approached from the Patio de las MuÑecas, is a spacious hall, in the mixed styles of the MudÉjar and the plateresque. The Dormitory of the Moorish Kings should be inspected. Then cross the Patio de las Doncellas to the SalÓn de Carlos V. This chamber has a remarkably fine ceiling, and beautiful decorations of azulejos, made by Cristobal de Augusta, an Italian, who worked in Triana in 1577. From the salon we may enter the room of Maria de Padilla.

The upper apartments of the AlcÁzar can be viewed by special permission. I would strongly urge the visitor to obtain this permission. If he applies to the conserje at the Palace of Pedro, he will be informed that admission is impossible without an order from the King of Spain. Such was my experience. I then asked for an order at the offices in the Patio de las Banderas, but the courteous officials were firm in their refusal, stating that 'no one but the King can give permission to visit the upper part of the AlcÁzar.' Still determined, I ventured to address His Majesty by letter, and in a few days I received a reply from the Intendencia General de la Real Casa y Patrimonio at Madrid. The letter was written by the royal secretary, and is a beautiful example of the ornate caligraphy in which educated Spaniards delight. I was told that 'the SeÑor MarquÉs de IrÚn, Alcaide of the Reales AlcÁzares, would grant me the desired permission.'

At the hotel I inquired where the MarquÉs de IrÚn resided. No one knew. My host searched through a Seville directory. The name of the MarquÉs de IrÚn was not to be found in its pages. Finally, armed with the letter from the royal palace, I presented myself at the offices in the Patio de las Banderas, and displayed the missive.

The effect was magical. The officials were even more polite than before. One of them wrote a note, which he asked me to give to the conserje, and I was bowed out of the office. The conserje in the Patio de la Monteria scanned the open-sesame. And at last I gained entrance to the upper apartments of the Royal AlcÁzar.

The visitor who has secured his permit will be rewarded. There is much to see in these chambers. Notice, first of all, the fine staircase constructed at the end of the sixteenth century. The seventeenth-century tapestries in the salons are magnificent examples of this art. Most of the subjects are Dutch; some are copies of pictures by David Teniers. In the first hall, at the head of the principal staircase, there is some handsome artesonada ceiling decoration of the fifteenth century.

In the Oratory of the Catholic Kings there is the most notable specimen of ceramic art to be seen in Spain. It is a lovely retablo of azulejos, designed by Franciso Niculoso, an Italian, in 1504. Niculoso introduced this kind of azulejo painting into Seville. The central picture represents the Visitation of the Virgin to St. Isabella. A smaller subject is the Annunciation, and there is a curious genealogical tree of the Saviour. The decorations are fantastic.

In the Comedor there is a splendid laced ceiling of MudÉjar workmanship, dating from the fifteenth century. The walls are covered with interesting tapestry pictures.

Step on to the balcony of the Hall of the Ambassadors, and admire the roofing, the columns, and wealth of Oriental ornamentation. In the rooms of the Infantas there are MudÉjar ceilings of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The portraits of princes and other royal personages are not of much artistic importance. There is a picture by Goya, a very spirited portrait of DoÑa Maria, wife of Don Carlos IV. Goya was the last of the great painters of Spain. A number of his works are in a gallery of the Prado Museum at Madrid, but very few of his paintings are preserved in Seville. This example in the AlcÁzar deserves the visitor's notice.

One of the most interesting apartments on the upper floors of the royal palace is the bedroom of Pedro el Cruel. The dormitorio is sumptuous with MudÉjar decorations of the sixteenth century. Near the doorway are four heads painted upon the wall. They are the heads of four disloyal justices who incurred the anger of their sovereign, and were condemned to death. The paintings throw a light upon the character of Pedro, who, no doubt, surveyed them with satisfaction whenever he entered the chamber. It is probable that the King feared assassination, for from this part of the palace there is a staircase descending to the quarters formerly occupied by the guards and royal bowmen. The story runs that Pedro had this stairway made in order to communicate with his faithful servant Juan Diente, a famous marksman with the bow.

In the Dormitory of Queen Isabel there is a copy of Murillo's Ecce Homo, and various portraits of monarchs. The SalÓn Azul (Blue Room) is so named on account of the colour of its silk tapestries. The pastel paintings in this apartment are by A. Muraton, representing Queen DoÑa Isabel, the Infanta DoÑa Isabel, King Alfonso XII., and the Marquesa de Novaliches. There are also eighteen miniatures painted upon ivory.

The modern bedroom has a Coronation of the Virgin, the work of Vicente LÓpez, a copy of a Murillo, and another of Raphael's Holy Family.

Let us saunter now in the sunny gardens of the AlcÁzar. We can reach them through the Apeadero, and by the steps leading from the tank at the entrance. The reservoir is full of carp, some of them of corpulent proportions. A few small fish may be seen basking near the surface of the water, but the bigger and warier carp do not often show themselves. Roses cluster about the steps, and twine on all the railings. We come to a tree-grown court, with a gallery running on one side, and an arched entrance to the Baths of Maria de Padilla. This garden is called El Jardin del Crucero. The underground bath is cool, and it is a rest to the eyes to escape for a few minutes from the dazzling sunlight of the gardens. Here the lovely Maria, faithful mistress of the ferocious Pedro, was wont to bathe in warm weather.

To show their homage to the monarch's consort, the chivalrous courtiers came hither when the fair bather had taken her bath, and drank of the water in which she had washed her white limbs. It is said that these devoted servitors used sometimes to carry away some of the water in vessels 'to drink it with enjoyment.'

Pedro el Cruel, of all the Christian sovereigns who lived in the AlcÁzar, was the most attached to the palace. He lavished money upon the building of the apartments which we have just inspected, and employed the cleverest MudÉjar designers and craftsmen. In the Hall of Justice he heard charges against criminal offenders; in the gorgeous salons he received illustrious guests, discoursed with his officers, and played at draughts with his courtiers. His image arises before the imagination as we stray under the lemon and orange trees of his quaint and charming pleasure-grounds. Coming to the throne in his sixteenth year, Don Pedro decided upon making Seville his capital.

We have read in the historical sections of our account of the city how he earned the title of 'El Cruel.' But the story of his treachery towards his half-brothers has not been related.

Don Fadrique, Master of the Order of Santiago, and half-brother of Pedro el Cruel, having confessed allegiance to the King, came one day to Seville, after a campaign with rebels in Murcia. The Master of Santiago went to the AlcÁzar with the intention of paying a visit to his half-brother, the King. Pedro was playing at backgammon in his private apartment of the palace when Don Fadrique came to him.

The monarch received his general with genial courtesies, and bade him stay in the AlcÁzar. Leaving Pedro for a while, the Master went to the rooms of Maria de Padilla. He found her agitated and pale, but the sadness of her beautiful countenance did not cause him to suspect what lay upon her mind. Maria knew that Pedro longed to rid himself of all possible claimants to the throne. His eldest half-brother Enrique was in France, plotting against the Castilian throne. Pedro still dreaded a rising under Fadrique. He apparently doubted his professed fealty, and he had planned his murder. It is said that the Master of Santiago received hints of the fate that awaited him. But he returned to the quarters of the King, who was in company with several members of his court.

Pedro had shut himself in an inner room, which had a wicket to it. From the wicket he shouted to his soldiers: 'Kill the Master of Santiago!' The bowmen obeyed. Fadrique drew his sword and made a stand, but he was soon overpowered, and struck down by blows on the head. The Master's servants were next seized and slaughtered. One of the train ran to the room of Maria de Padilla, pursued by his assailants, and threw himself behind DoÑa Beatrice, one of Maria's daughters. Pedro was among the pursuers. He tore the man from the arms of Beatrice, stabbed him, and gave him into the hands of his assassins. Returning to the room where Don Fadrique was expiring, Pedro saw that his half-brother was still breathing. Drawing his dagger, the King gave it to an attendant, and commanded him to kill the Master outright.

During the siege of Seville by Fernando el Santo, the fortified palace was the chief point of attack. The massive walls of the AlcÁzar long resisted the assault of the besiegers. But the beleaguered Moors were at length compelled to offer surrender to the knights of the Cross. On the day of St. Clement the gates were thrown open, and San Fernando rode into the courtyard. In the King's hand was a sword; on his saddle the ivory image of the Holy Virgin. By his side rode Don Garcia de Varga and his brother Don Diego, the CondÉ Lorenzo, Pelago, and other brave cavaliers. The Khalif of the AlcÁzar escaped by the gate near the Hospital del Sangre. Henceforward, the palace was to be the residence of the kings of Castile.

In 1379 Juan I. lived in the AlcÁzar. The King ascended the throne without opposition. Trouble arose soon with Portugal, and Juan marched at the head of thirty-four thousand soldiers into the enemy's territory. The Portuguese had a small force of only ten thousand men, including a few Englishmen. Near the village of Aljubarrota the armies met. There was a great battle, in which the Portuguese troops fought valiantly, and drove back the invaders.

Don Juan was ill and weak during the engagement. He was carried on a litter by his knights, and in the retreat, the King was put on a mule, and hurried from the scene of action to the Tagus. Here the monarch embarked in a small boat for Lisbon, whence he returned to Seville to mourn his defeat in the seclusion of the AlcÁzar.

Isabel and Fernando often sought the tranquil paths of this garden. The Catholic Queen and her Consort lived here in great state, in the palmy days of Seville, dispensing justice, listening to the counsels of Torquemada and the officers of the Holy Inquisition, and consulting with Columbus regarding the expansion of their realm and the development of trade with the New World. Many were the hours passed by the blue-eyed, fair-haired Queen in the private chapel.

The pious Philip II. came here, though he preferred his mountain palace of the Escorial. He ordered the portraits of the Kings of Spain to be painted in the Hall of the Ambassadors. As we have read, Philip incurred the resentment of the Sevillian merchants by his confiscation of their ingots. But the prelates and clergy of the city honoured the sovereign, who always supported the Church and favoured the priests. In his reign the Primate of Spain was almost as wealthy as the Pope. The Archbishop of Seville received an income of eighty thousand ducats a year.

Philip spent his time at the AlcÁzar in his usual daily labours, writing like a clerk in his private room until the small hours of the morning. Every morning he attended Mass. The King lived simply, for he feared the gout. But in spite of this form of frugality, Philip spent his revenue freely in maintaining a large household. In his retinue there were fifteen hundred persons, including forty pages, all of noble family.

In the Queen's train there were twenty-six ladies-in-waiting, and four physicians were in constant attendance on Her Majesty. We may picture Philip moodily roaming in the gardens, dressed in black velvet, with a plumed cap. From his neck was suspended the fine jewel of the Golden Fleece. He wore sober clothes, and changed his suits once every month for new ones. His wear, like the cast of his mind, was sombre. A dread of society possessed the King, and in his later days he became more taciturn and morose.

'I am absolute King,' was the boast of the despotic Philip. His ambition was to attain power, to extend his kingdom beyond the seas, and to crush out heresy. Yet Tennyson's love-dazzled Mary is made to ask, as she gazes upon the face of the Spanish King, in a miniature painting:

These gardens evoke reflections upon the ever-changing fate of Spain. We gaze at relics of the Moors, and remember the eight hundred years of that sanguinary history of the expulsion of the infidels. Yet everywhere there are traces of that mighty civilisation built up by Morisco knowledge and industry. The MudÉjar has touched the palace and the gardens with his magic wand. Fernando, Pedro, Philip, Carlos—all the Catholic sovereigns—preserved the Moorish style of decoration, and borrowed from the art of the hated race.

Passing under a handsome gateway, represented in one of our illustrations, we come to a fountain surrounded by a tiled pavement, and overshadowed by trees. Before us is the Pavilion of Carlos Quinto, with a fine ceiling and azulejos. This summer-house was built by Juan Hernandez in 1543. Turn to the left, and inspect the archway in the wall, and the curious mural paintings. We may then retrace our steps to the pavilion, and pass another tank and a grotto till we reach the maze and a tangled garden beyond it. This is the Garden of the Labyrinth. Further, we may not ramble.

In 1626 a theatre stood in the large patio near the Puerta del LeÓn, by which gate we must leave the AlcÁzar. The playhouse was of oval form, with three balconies, and one part of the theatre was reserved for ladies. The travelling actors who visited Seville preferred this theatre to any other in the city, as is shown by the archives of the palace. In the year 1691 the theatre was entirely destroyed by a great fire, and not a stone of the old building remains.

The singular mingling of Christian and Moorish architecture and adornment in the modern AlcÁzar is characteristic of Seville. We find the same mixture of styles in the Casa Pilatos and in other mansions of the city. Even the railway station at the termination of the CÓrdova line affords an example of the perpetuation of Morisco design and decoration. It is this Moorish influence that lends a strange interest to Seville. Some writers have declared that these mixed styles of architecture are anomalous. There is certainly an air of the grotesque in the combination of MudÉjar windows, cusped arches, columns, and azulejos, and Renaissance and Gothic features. But despite the element of incongruity, the effect is often pleasing, while the mingling of the styles is especially interesting from the historical point of view.

In our inspection of the Sevillian monuments we are able to estimate the enormous sway that the Moors exercised upon the Andalusian mind. That influence will probably endure for very many centuries to come. Spaniards may abhor the faith of Allah, and detest the children of Mahomet; but they have never refused to learn the arts of the Moors, nor to apply them to the building of sacred and secular edifices. In the poorest villages of Southern Spain we rarely fail to notice some trace or another of the Moorish builder.

In the Garden of the AlcÁzar.
In the Garden of the AlcÁzar.

The Orientalism of the AlcÁzar remains in spite of the pseudo-Moorish restorations and the Renaissance additions. It is perhaps an atmosphere, a suggestion, rather than the reality. Still, the pile is a very remarkable monument, and every stone of it has its tale to tell of memorable scenes and great events. One is tempted to linger hour after hour in the dreamy gardens, watching the gaudy butterflies and the peering, green lizards, and thinking of the bygone greatness of Seville.

Let us conjure one more illustrious figure to the view before we quit the palace grounds. Here the Emperor Charles V. roamed with his young bride, Isabella of Portugal. The portraits of Charles show a well-knit figure, and a good forehead, with the projecting lower jaw characteristic of his family. He was fond of music, and was accounted well cultured. Mr. Edward Armstrong tells us, however, in his Emperor Charles V., that the sovereign was a 'singularly bad linguist.' He knew only a few words of Spanish after he had ruled Castile and Aragon for two years. 'French was his natural language, but he neither spoke nor wrote it with any elegance.' The Emperor's knowledge of theology was scanty; and though he was a stern defender of the Catholic faith, he could scarcely read the Vulgate.

Isabella was but twenty-three years of age at the time of her marriage with Charles. She was, however, no child. Her intelligence was quick. The Princess was short, spare in body, with a clear white skin. The wedding was celebrated in Seville, in March 1526. For the honeymoon the Emperor and his bride visited CÓrdova and Granada.

Charles liked the seclusion of his palace in Seville. 'Not greedy of territory, but most greedy of peace and quiet,' was the description of the monarch by Marcantonio Contarini, in 1536. He was strongly attached to his wife; he was fond of children, and kept pet animals, 'including a parrot and two Indian cats.' The Emperor was interested in gardening, and he introduced the carnation into Spain. At table he was a glutton, and unable to exercise self-control over his greedy appetite. It was said that Charles five times drained a flagon, containing nearly a quart of Rhenish wine, during a single meal. We need not be surprised that he suffered from severe attacks of gout. Yet he would not forego the pleasures of the table, and when his physician warned him that beer was injurious to his constitution, the Emperor refused to give up drinking it.

In dress Charles was economical. He went to Italy in a shabby suit, hoping by his example to check the tendency to extravagance displayed by his courtiers and the nobles of Spain. His servants were sometimes in tattered clothes.

'A fine taste for art seemed inborn in Charles,' writes Mr. Armstrong. 'Before he ever set foot in Italy he had summoned Italian architects and sculptors to build the splendid Renaissance palace at Granada, which was destined to remain unfinished.... Music was a passion from boyhood. The Emperor's choir was the best in Europe. To his choristers he was most generous, for when their voices broke he would educate them for three years, and afterwards, if they recovered voice, he would give them the preference for places in his chapel.'