In the time of the Caliphs, eight hundred silver lamps, filled with aromatic oils, illuminated these long naves, caused the porphyry and polished jasper of the columns to sparkle, spangled with light the gilt stars of the ceiling, and showed, in the shade, the crystal mosaics and the verses of the Koran wreathed with arabesques and flowers. Among their lamps were the bells of Saint Jago de Compostella, which the Moors had won in battle; turned upside down, and suspended to the roof by silver chains, they illuminated the temple of Allah and his Prophet, and were, no doubt, greatly astonished at being changed from Catholic bells into Mahomedan lamps. At that period, the eye could wander in perfect liberty under the long colonnades, and, from the extremity of the temple, look at the orange-trees in blossom and the gushing fountains of the _patio_, inundated by a torrent of light, rendered still more dazzling by the half-day inside. Unfortunately, this magnificent view is at present destroyed by the Roman-catholic church, which is a heavy, massive building squeezed into the very heart of the Arabian mosque. A number of _retablos_, chapels, and sacristies crowd the place and destroy its general symmetry. This parasitical church, this enormous stone mushroom, this architectural wart on the back of the Arabian edifice, was erected after the designs of Hernán Ruiz. As a building it is not destitute of merit, and would be admired anywhere else, but it is ever to be regretted that it occupies the place it does. It was built, in spite of the resistance of the _ayuntamiento_, by the chapter, in virtue of an order cunningly obtained from the emperor Charles V., who had not seen the mosque. Having visited it, some years later, he said--"Had I known this, I should never have permitted you to touch the old building; you have put what can be seen anywhere in the place of what is seen nowhere." This just reproach caused the members of the chapter to hang down their heads in confusion, but the evil was done. In the choir we admired an immense carving, in massive mahogany, representing subjects of the Old Testament. It is the work of Don Pedro Duque Cornejo, who spent ten years of his life on this prodigious undertaking, as may be seen by the inscription on the poor artist's tomb; he lies stretched upon a slab some few paces distant from his work. Talking of tombs, we noticed a very remarkable one, shaped like a trunk and fastened by three padlocks, let into the wall. How will the corpse, so carefully locked up, manage on the day of judgment, in order to open the stone locks of his coffin, and how will he find the keys in the midst of the general confusion?