My Dear--: Religious festivals furnish, in all Catholic countries,
occasions of popular pageant and recreation; but in none more so than in
Spain, where the great end of religion seems to be to create holidays and
ceremonials. For two days past, Granada has been in a gay turmoil with the
great annual fete of Corpus Christi. This most eventful and romantic city,
as you well know, has ever been the rallying point of a mountainous region,
studded with small towns and villages. Hither, during the time that Granada
was the splendid capital of a Moorish kingdom, the Moslem youth repaired
from all points, to participate in chivalrous festivities; and hither the
Spanish populace at the present day throng from all parts of the
surrounding country to attend the festivals of the church.
As the populace like to enjoy things from the very commencement, the stir
of Corpus Christ! began in Granada on the preceding evening. Before dark
the gates of the city were thronged with the picturesque peasantry from the
mountain villages, and the brown laborers from the Vega, or vast fertile
plain. As the evening advanced, the Vivarambla thickened and swarmed with a
motley multitude. This is the great square in the center of the city,
famous for tilts and tourneys during the times of Moorish domination, and
incessantly mentioned in all the old Moorish ballads of love and chivalry.
For several days the hammer had resounded throughout this square. A gallery
of wood had been erected all round it, forming a covered way for the grand
procession of Corpus Christi. On this eve of the ceremonial this gallery
was a fashionable promenade. It was brilliantly illuminated, bands of music
were stationed in balconies on the four sides of the square, and all the
fashion and beauty of Granada, and all its population that could boast a
little finery of apparel, together with the majos and majas, the beaux and
belles of the villages, in their gay Andalusian costumes, thronged this
covered walk, anxious to see and to be seen. As to the sturdy peasantry of
the Vega, and such of the mountaineers as did not pretend to display, but
were content with hearty enjoyment, they swarmed in the center of the
square; some in groups listening to the guitar and the traditional ballad;
some dancing their favorite bolero; some seated on the ground making a
merry though frugal supper; and some stretched out for their night's
repose.
The gay crowd of the gallery dispersed gradually toward midnight; but the
center of the square resembled the bivouac of an army; for hundreds of the
peasantry, men, women, and children, passed the night there, sleeping
soundly on the bare earth, under the open canopy of heaven. A summer's
night requires no shelter in this genial climate; and with a great part of
the hardy peasantry of Spain a bed is a superfluity which many of them
never enjoy, and which they affect to despise. The common Spaniard spreads
out his manta, or mule-cloth, or wraps himself in his cloak, and lies on
the ground, with his saddle for a pillow.
The next morning I revisited the square at sunrise. It was still strewed
with groups of sleepers; some were reposing from the dance and revel of the
evening; others had left their villages after work, on the preceding day,
and having trudged on foot the greater part of the night, were taking a
sound sleep to freshen them for the festivities of the day. Numbers from
the mountains, and the remote villages of the plain, who had set out in the
night, continued to arrive, with their wives and children. All were in high
spirits; greeting each other, and exchanging jokes and pleasantries. The
gay tumult thickened as the day advanced. Now came pouring in at the city
gates, and parading through the streets, the deputations from the various
villages, destined to swell the grand procession. These village deputations
were headed by their priests, bearing their respective crosses and banners,
and images of the Blessed Virgin and of patron saints; all which were
matters of great rivalship and jealousy among the peasantry. It was like
the chivalrous gatherings of ancient days, when each town and village sent
its chiefs, and warriors, and standards, to defend the capital or grace its
festivities.
At length, all these various detachments congregated into one grand
pageant, which slowly paraded round the Vivarambla, and through the
principal streets, where every window and balcony was hung with tapestry.
In this procession were all the religious orders, the civil and military
authorities, and the chief people of the parishes and villages; every
church and convent had contributed its banners, its images, its relics, and
poured forth its wealth for the occasion. In the center of the procession
walked the archbishop, under a damask canopy, and surrounded by inferior
dignitaries and their dependents. The whole moved to the swell and cadence
of numerous bands of music, and, passing through the midst of a countless
yet silent multitude, proceeded onward to the cathedral.
I could not but be struck with the changes of times and customs, as I saw
this monkish pageant passing through the Vivarambla, the ancient seat of
Moslem pomp and chivalry. The contrast was indeed forced upon the mind by
the decorations of the square. The whole front of the wooden gallery
erected for the procession, extending several hundred feet, was faced with
canvas, on which some humble though patriotic artist had painted, by
contract, a series of the principal scenes and exploits of the conquest, as
recorded in chronicle and romance. It is thus the romantic legends of
Granada mingle themselves with everything, and are kept fresh in the public
mind. Another great festival at Granada, answering in its popular character
to our Fourth of July, is _El Dia de la Toma_; "The day of the
Capture"; that is to say, the anniversary of the capture of the city by
Ferdinand and Isabella. On this day all Granada is abandoned to revelry.
The alarm-bell on the Terre de la Campana, or watch-tower of the Alhambra,
keeps up a clangor from morn till night; and happy is the damsel that can
ring that bell; it is a charm to secure a husband in the course of the
year.
The sound, which can be heard over the whole Vega, and to the top of the
mountains, summons the peasantry to the festivities. Throughout the day the
Alhambra is thrown open to the public. The halls and courts of the Moorish
monarchs resound with the guitar and castanet, and gay groups, in the
fanciful dresses of Andalusia, perform those popular dances which they have
inherited from the Moors.
In the meantime a grand procession moves through the city. The banner of
Ferdinand and Isabella, that precious relic of the conquest, is brought
forth from its depository, and borne by the Alferez Mayor, or grand
standard-bearer, through the principal streets. The portable camp-altar,
which was carried about with them in all their campaigns, is transported
into the chapel royal, and placed before their sepulcher, where their
effigies lie in monumental marble. The procession fills the chapel. High
mass is performed in memory of the conquest; and at a certain part of the
ceremony the Alferez Mayor puts on his hat, and waves the standard above
the tomb of the conquerors.
A more whimsical memorial of the conquest is exhibited on the same evening
at the theater, where a popular drama is performed, entitled "Ave Maria."
This turns on the oft-sung achievement of Hernando del Pulgar, surnamed El
de las Hazanas, "He of the Exploits," the favorite hero of the populace of
Granada.
During the time that Ferdinand and Isabella besieged the city, the young
Moorish and Spanish knights vied with each other in extravagant bravadoes.
On one occasion Hernando del Pulgar, at the head of a handful of youthful
followers, made a dash into Granada at the dead of night, nailed the
inscription of Ave Maria, with his dagger, to the gate of the principal
mosque, as a token of having consecrated it to the Virgin, and effected his
retreat in safety.
While the Moorish cavaliers admired this daring exploit, they felt bound to
revenge it. On the following day, therefore, Tarfe, one of the stoutest of
the infidel warriors, paraded in front of the Christian army, dragging the
sacred inscription of Ave Maria at his horse's tail. The cause of the
Virgin was eagerly vindicated by Garcilaso de la Vega, who slew the Moor in
single combat, and elevated the inscription of Ave Maria, in devotion and
triumph, at the end of his lance.
The drama founded on this exploit is prodigiously popular with the common
people. Although it has been acted time out of mind, and the people have
seen it repeatedly, it never fails to draw crowds, and so completely to
engross the feelings of the audience, as to have almost the effect on them
of reality. When their favorite Pulgar strides about with many a mouthy
speech, in the very midst of the Moorish capital, he is cheered with
enthusiastic bravoes; and when he nails the tablet of Ave Maria to the door
of the mosque, the theater absolutely shakes with shouts and thunders of
applause. On the other hand, the actors who play the part of the Moors have
to bear the brunt of the temporary indignation of their auditors; and when
the infidel Tarfe plucks down the tablet to tie it to his horse's tail,
many of the people absolutely rise in fury, and are ready to jump upon the
stage to revenge this insult to the Virgin.
Besides this annual festival at the capital, almost every village of the
Vega and the mountains has its own anniversary, wherein its own deliverance
from the Moorish yoke is celebrated with uncouth ceremony and rustic pomp.
On these occasions a kind of resurrection takes place of ancient Spanish
dresses and armor; great two-handed swords, ponderous arquebuses, with
matchlocks, and other weapons and accouterments, once the equipments of the
village chivalry, and treasured up from generation to generation, since the
time of the conquest. In these hereditary and historical garbs some of the
most sturdy of the villagers array themselves as champions of the faith,
while its ancient opponents are represented by another band of villagers,
dressed up as Moorish warriors. A tent is pitched in the public square of
the village, within which is an altar and an image of the Virgin. The
Spanish warriors approach to perform their devotions at this shrine, but
are opposed by the infidel Moslems, who surround the tent. A mock fight
succeeds, in the course of which the combatants sometimes forget that they
are merely playing a part, and exchange dry blows of grievous weight; the
fictious Moors especially are apt to bear away pretty evident marks of the
pious zeal of their antagonists. The contest, however, invariably
terminates in favor of the good cause. The Moors are defeated and taken
prisoners. The image of the Virgin, rescued from thralldom, is elevated in
triumph; and a grand procession succeeds, in which the Spanish conquerors
figure with great vainglory and applause, and their captives are led in
chains, to the infinite delight and edification of the populace. These
annual festivals are the delight of the villagers, who expend considerable
sums in their celebration. In some villages they are occasionally obliged
to suspend them for want of funds; but when times grow better, or they have
been enabled to save money for the purpose, they are revived with all their
grotesque pomp and extravagance.
To recur to the exploit of Hernando del Pulgar. However extravagant and
fabulous it may seem, it is authenticated by certain traditional usages,
and shows the vainglorious daring that prevailed between the youthful
warriors of both nations, in that romantic war. The mosque thus consecrated
to the Virgin was made the cathedral of the city after the conquest; and
there is a painting of the Virgin beside the royal chapel, which was put
there by Hernando del Pulgar. The lineal representative of the hare-brained
cavalier has the right to this day to enter the church, on certain
occasions, on horseback, to sit within the choir, and to put on his hat at
the elevation of the host, though these privileges have often been
obstinately contested by the clergy.
The present lineal representative of Hernando del Pulgar is the Marquis de
Salar, whom I have met occasionally in society. He is a young man of
agreeable appearance and manners, and his bright black eyes would give
indication of his inheriting the fire of his ancestor. When the paintings
were put up in the Vivarambla, illustrating the scenes of the conquest, an
old gray-headed family servant of the Pulgars was so delighted with those
which related to the family hero, that he absolutely shed tears, and
hurrying home to the marquis, urged him to hasten and behold the family
trophies. The sudden zeal of the old man provoked the mirth of his young
master; upon which, turning to the brother of the marquis, with that
freedom allowed to family servants in Spain, "Come, señor," cried he, "you
are more grave and considerate than your brother; come and see your
ancestor in all his glory!"
* * * * *
Within two or three years after the above letter was written, the Marquis
de Salar was married to the beautiful daughter of the Count -----,
mentioned by the author in his anecdotes of the Alhambra. The match was
very agreeable to all parties, and the nuptials were celebrated with great
festivity.