in
peace and war attended him always; he possessed everything that it was
possible for man to have. These are the observations of Al Makkary, the
Arabic historian, when he narrates the incident:

_O man of understanding! Wonder and observe the small portion of real
happiness the world affords even in the most enviable position. Praise
be given to Him, the Lord of eternal glory and everlasting empire! There
is no God but He the Almighty, the Giver of Empire to whomsoever He
pleases._

VI

[Sidenote: The Mosque]

But Cordova, from which Az-Zahra was about four miles distant, has
visible delights that can vie with its neighbour's vanished pomp. I know
nothing that can give a more poignant emotion than the interior of the
mosque at Cordova; and yet I remember well the splendour of barbaric and
oriental magnificence which was my first sight of St. Mark's at Venice,
as I came abruptly from the darkness of an alley into the golden light
of the Piazza. But to me at least the famous things of Italy, known from
childhood in picture and in description, afford more than anything a
joyful sense of recognition, a feeling as it were of home-coming, such
as may hope to experience the devout Christian on entering upon his
heritage in the Kingdom of Heaven. The mosque of Cordova is oriental and
barbaric too; but I had never seen nor imagined anything in the least
resembling it; there was no disillusionment possible, as too often in
Italy, for the accounts I had read prepared me not at all for that
overwhelming impression. It was so weird and strange, I felt myself
transported suddenly to another world.

They were singing Vespers when I entered, and I heard the shrill voices
of choristers crying the responses; it did not sound like Christian
music. The mosque was dimly lit, the air heavy with incense; and I saw
this forest of pillars, extending every way, as far as the eye could
reach. It was mysterious and awe-inspiring as those enchanted forests of
one's childhood in which huge trees grew in serried masses and where in
cavernous darkness goblins and giants of the fairy-tales, wild beasts
and monstrous shapes, lay in wait for the terrified traveller who had
lost his way. I wandered, keeping the Christian chapels out of sight,
trying to lose myself among the columns; and now and then gained views
of horseshoe arches interlacing, decorated with Moorish tracery.

At length I came to the _Mihrab_, which is the Holy of Holies,