GRANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA.
The small cars on the railroad which carried us from Algeciras to
Granada were divided into compartments with doors opening from the
sides. Each compartment comfortably seated eight persons, four facing
the front and four the rear. This arrangement of seating allows general
conversation among the group, and, if the occupants are congenial,
promotes sociability.
A traveler speeding through the United States in a "Chicago Limited," at
the rate of sixty miles an hour, can merely catch glimpses of objects on
the way and receive only blurred and indistinct impressions of the
scenery; but when traveling in the "Spanish Express," at the more
moderate speed of twenty-five miles an hour, he can enjoy clear and
vivid pictures of the unfolding panorama. Let me try to describe some of
these pictures just as they appeared to us during the trip.
Looking back after leaving Algeciras, we saw the huge rock of Gibraltar,
almost an island, connected with the main land by a narrow, flat, sandy
isthmus. Across the "neutral ground," as the strip between the English
and Spanish possessions is called, a line of sentry boxes extended, and
red-coated British sentinels paced back and forth. Parallel to the
British line there was another line of sentry boxes, where the
soldiers of Alfonzo were on guard to prevent the smuggling of tobacco
and other forbidden wares into Spain.
[Illustration: TWELVE WEATHER BEATEN MARBLE LIONS UPHOLD AN ALABASTER
BASIN.]
"See those miserable little white plastered huts with roofs made of
straw," said one of our party. "I did not know that the people were so
poor."
This picture of poverty was our first impression of Spain. For some
distance the train had been running through a region apparently
unfertile, where fences of sharp spined cacti enclosed small fields. The
people were shabbily dressed, the houses straw-thatched and dilapidated,
and the little patches of land poorly cultivated. It seemed that Sunday
was a common wash-day; for at almost every cottage the family wash was
hanging in the sun on trees, shrubs, or cacti.
Within an hour, however, we were passing through a section of the
country entirely different in aspect, where the cork industry gives
employment to many people. For a distance of eight or ten miles groves
of cork-oak trees were in sight. At the station were bulky piles of cork
bark, cars stacked with cork were on the sidings, and great carts drawn
by oxen were on the roads bringing in still more of this valuable
commodity.
"Millions of bottles are made in our city," said a New Jersey girl, "and
there is enough cork here in sight to stopper them all."
Beyond this, the land was more fertile and under better cultivation.
Well built stone houses replaced the huts; glossy-leaved orange trees
and pink-blossomed almond trees dotted the fields or filled the
orchards. Instead of fences, the boundaries of fields and farms were
marked at the corners by white stones projecting above the ground.
Farther along, yellow-green olive plantations, magnificent in size and
beautiful in color, filling the valleys and hillsides as far as the eye
could see with orderly, far-reaching lines of trees, made so impressive
a sight that it drew forth many expressions of admiration.
[Illustration: SPANISH CHILDREN CAME TO THE STATION.]
Women, as gatekeepers, waved white flags to signal that the crossings
were clear. Gangs of men, often thirty in a gang, were in the fields
cultivating leeks or onions with crude, heavy-looking, short-handled
hoes. Teams of long-horned oxen attached to old-fashioned plows, at
times eight or ten teams in one field, were turning up the soil.
Occasionally ox-teams drawing heavily laden carts or wagons were seen
along the smooth white roads; but more frequently appeared trains of
slowly moving donkeys, five or six in a line, with gay trappings and
bells and panniers piled high with produce, driven by red-sashed
muleteers.
At stations where the train stopped five or ten minutes, the doors at
the sides of the compartments were opened and the passengers descended
and walked up and down the platform. Spanish women, carrying jugs, cried
"Lacte," "Limonada," "Narrandjada," and "Acqua," and other peddlers with
baskets offered "bollos," "tortitas," and "narranges." After some
difficulties in obtaining information as to "how much," the shillings
and pence, pesetas and centimes of the tourists were exchanged for the
milk, lemonade, orangeade, and water, the cakes, rolls, and oranges of
the dealers.
One of the ladies, after making a purchase, said, "I asked that woman
with the black-eyed baby the price of a half dozen oranges. She said,
'Fifty centimes.' Then I offered her an English six-pence, and she gave
me six oranges and a penny in change."
Spanish boys scrambled for a roll or boiled eggs thrown to them, and
men, women, and children extended their hands for money or remnants of
our luncheon. One boy who had secured an apple and an egg in a scramble
laughed with happiness over his success. These people did not appear to
be destitute; for children, as well as adults, were comfortably clothed,
and wore neat looking shoes and stockings. As the day, however, was
Sunday, probably they were in holiday attire.
The red-capped station masters were important personages. At the
principal stations they directed the starting of the trains with the
greatest care and deliberation. In our own country the conductor's hand
touches the signal-cord and the train moves. At Ronda, a bell in the
station rang, then a red-capped employee trotted along the length of the
train ringing a hand dinner bell. A minute later he repeated his trip
with warning bell, then the whistle tooted, but it was not until the
red-cap was sure that every passenger was aboard that the whistle issued
a second toot and the wheels began to revolve. These extraordinary
precautions, although affording amusement for the tourists, may have
been taken under special orders of the railroad officials in order to
avoid accidents and insure our safety. At any rate, we know that the
railroad officials and their Spanish employees did give us special
attention and treat us with kindness and courtesy.
[Illustration: "MAY WE KODAK YOU?" "THEY ALL DO," HE REPLIED.]
Through many deep cuts and tunnels, over romantic gorges of dark depth,
and along cliffs whose heights we could not see, the train climbed and
crossed a mountain range. As the car emerged from tunnel or cut,
changing scenes of wild and savage landscape appeared near by, and
charming glimpses of distant valleys far below. The torrents and
waterfalls of the river Gaudiara added to the weird beauty of the scene.
A stanza in Southey's poem, "The Cataract of Lodore," fittingly
describes the wildness of the river that we crossed and re-crossed so
often:
"Here it comes sparkling
And there it lies darkling:
Now smoking and frothing
The cataract strong
Then plunges along,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing:
And so never ending but ever descending,
Sound and motions forever are blending."
A famous canyon, deep and narrow, with rushing, foaming stream, seemed
like a crevice sliced down by a gigantic blade. Towns and villages far
away amid green fields and gray olive orchards, and buildings of white
and cream, luminous in the sunlight, with backgrounds of dark and rugged
mountains, produced a succession of picturesque views. Among the hills
were seen young Davids, staff in hand, guarding flocks of grazing sheep,
ancient swineherds lazily watching droves of swine feeding on the roots,
and goatherds following their nimble-footed brown herds as they picked
their way among the rocks.
As we approached our destination, the valleys showed signs of great
prosperity. The fields were highly cultivated; the farms were irrigated
by ditches of flowing water; the orchards were well trimmed; the
buildings larger; and the red-sashed laborers more sprucely attired.
[Illustration: MARVELOUSLY BEAUTIFUL IN MOORISH SPLENDOR.]
At Pinos we saw the stone bridge where, in 1492, Columbus, on his way to
France, disheartened by his failure to interest King Ferdinand in his
plans, was over-taken by Queen Isabella's messenger and summoned back to
court to receive his commission.
As twilight was settling down we arrived on schedule time at the white
stone station in Granada where carriages stood in waiting to convey us
to the hotels. The Spanish drivers strove to surpass each other in
speed. Our coachman lashed his horses till they ran like a run-away
team. Regardless of anyone in the streets, grazing wagons by the way,
overtaking and passing carriages ahead, he gave us the wildest ride we
had ever taken. This chariot race to the hotel, a distance of over a
mile, happily ended without accident or collision.
"Well, I'm thankful that ride is over without an upset," exclaimed with
a sigh of relief a nervous lady, who had tried ineffectually to restrain
the driver's zeal by the use of English words which he did not
understand.
The old Cathedral, covering ground equal to a block in length and half a
block in width, always attracts many visitors. Massive pillars support
the roof and marble tiles cover the floor. The light, falling softly
through stained glass windows, discloses valuable paintings on the
walls, fine statuary in the aisles, and decorations of white and gold.
"Is this building very old?" some one inquired.
"Old!" replied the guide with scorn in his voice, "this Cathedral was
here when Columbus discovered your country." The guide, however,
exaggerated somewhat. It was built just about the time America was
discovered.
[Illustration: HERE WASHINGTON IRVING LIVED FOR A TIME.]
In the Royal Chapel of the Cathedral, upon an alabaster mausoleum
decorated with fine carving, lie the effigies of Ferdinand and Isabella.
The soft, creamy alabaster gives them the appearance of sleeping. An
inscription on the tomb reads as follows:
This chapel was founded by most Catholic Don Fernando and Dona
Isable, King and Queen of Spain, of Naples, of Sicily, of
Jerusalem, who conquered this kingdom and brought it back to our
Faith; who acquired the Canary Isles and the Indies; who crushed
heresy, and expelled the Moors and Jews from these realms.
Queen Dona Isable died Nov. 26, 1504.
King Don Fernando died Jan. 23, 1516.
On the altar of the chapel is a very interesting bas-relief representing
the surrender of the city of Granada. In the sacristy we were shown the
carefully guarded holy relics; the richly embroidered vestments used on
ceremonial occasions, the sword of Ferdinand; the sceptre, crown, and
mirror of Isabella; and the casket which contained the jewels that the
Queen offered in pledge to secure funds for Columbus.
"Most precious of all the relics," said the sacristan, "is the
handkerchief with which the blessed Santa Veronica wiped the sweat from
the Savior's brow on the road to Calvary. This bears the impression of
the Savior's face."
The greatest point of interest in Granada, perhaps in all Spain, is, of
course, the Alhambra. This is the name given to a collection of
buildings located on an elevation that overlooks the city. These palaces
on the heights were for many centuries the dwelling places of the
Moorish kings, surrounded by their nobles, retainers, and guardsmen.
They were also the repositories in which were stored the immense
treasure accumulated from the forays of the Moors upon the Christians of
northern Spain, and from the sacking of Christian cities. The palaces of
the rulers and the treasure within were protected by great citadels and
by stout walls which encircled the heights.
[Illustration: DECORATED WITH ARABESQUES AND STORIED WITH
INSCRIPTIONS.]
In the latter part of the fifteenth century, after a long struggle, the
Moorish power was overthrown by King Ferdinand, and since then Granada
has been a Spanish city. Columbus was present at the court of the
Spanish sovereign when the capitulation of Granada occurred in April,
1492, and within two weeks after the surrender of the city received his
commission to sail in search of a new world.
Washington Irving's description of the entrance of the conquering
Spaniards into the Alhambra after the capture of the city, might, with
the change of a word or two, still portray the visit of a party of
modern tourists.
[Illustration: THE GENERALIFE OVERLOOKS THE ALHAMBRA.]
"The halls lately occupied by turbaned infidels," he writes, "now
rustled with stately dames and Christian courtiers, who wandered with
eager curiosity over this far-famed palace, admiring its verdant courts
and gushing fountains, its halls decorated with elegant arabesques, and
storied with inscriptions, and the splendor of its gilded and
brilliantly painted ceilings."
[Illustration: PROTECTED BY CITADELS AND WALLS.]
Although the coloring is faded, and in many places the intricate
ornamentation is crumbling or broken, sufficient remains to show how
marvelously beautiful it must have been in Moorish splendor. And
beautiful it still is, notwithstanding the ravages of time.
While in the Court of Myrtles, some of the party examined the light,
graceful arches and the stucco tapestry interwoven with flowers and
leaves that adorn the galleries; others were more interested in the gold
fish swimming in the transparent water of the long sunken tank in the
center of the tiled court. In the richly ornamented Hall of the
Ambassadors, the state reception room of the king, we waited while the
guide, in answer to a request, interpreted some of the delicately carved
inscriptions that fill every available space on the wall.
"One of these mottoes," said the guide, "that is repeated over and over
again on almost every wall of the palace, reads: 'There is no conqueror
but Allah.' Other mottoes which are very common are: 'There is no God
but Allah;' 'Mohammed is the envoy of Allah;' 'Allah is great;' 'Allah
never forgets;' and various quotations from the Koran."
Twelve weatherbeaten marble lions in the center of the Court of Lions
uphold a large alabaster basin in which were caught, in times gone by,
the falling waters of the fountain above it. Many graceful pillars
support the surrounding arcades of this court and the exquisite
fret-work looks as if carved in ivory.
A practical man in the party called attention to the beautiful wooden
doors through which we entered the Hall of the Abencerrages, and to the
peculiar manner in which they were hung on pivots instead of hinges. On
the rim of the marble basin in the center of this hall some red stains
were seen.
"Here," said our guide, "is where the heads of the Abencerrages were cut
off.
"But why was Aben's head cut off?" inquired a lady.
This gave the guide the opportunity he desired.
"A prominent member of the tribe or family of the Abencerrages, named
Hamet," he replied, "fell in love with the Sultana, and she in return
loved the handsome and gallant warrior. Secret meetings took place under
a cypress tree in the garden of the Generalife until the Sultan,
Boabdil, accidentally discovered their meetings. The enraged Boabdil,
without revealing his knowledge of their actions, invited the guilty
Hamet and every member of his tribe to attend a banquet. As each guest
arrived at the palace he was brought into this hall. Here the guards
seized him, forced his head over the edge of this basin, and the sharp
simitar of the executioner showed no mercy. This was the king's revenge,
and so the stains on the fountain."
The Room of Two Sisters brought forth exclamations of praise. Walls
covered with dainty traceries in plaster, like embroideries on a ground
of lace work; dados brilliant in fantastic designs of red, green, and
blue; ceilings dropping thousands of stalactites each differing from the
others in beauty of form; and charming views from the boudoir windows of
floral beds and fountains in the garden beyond,--all these combined to
make this place a suitable residence for a Queen.
In the Baths we saw where royalty had bathed in marble basins to the
sound of music by players in the gallery overhead.
"Here are the rooms which Washington Irving occupied in the Alhambra
during his stay in Granada," explained the guide.
[Illustration: THE SUMMER RESIDENCE OF THE MOORISH KINGS.]
Some of us tried to recall Irving's graphic descriptions in the
"Conquest of Granada" of the scenes around this city; of the struggles
between the Christian knights under the banner of Ferdinand, and the
Moorish cavaliers under the standard of Mahomet; of fields covered with
silken canopies; of cavalcades of warriors in jeweled armor and nodding
plumes; of hand-to-hand conflicts and daring exploits; of the siege
and capture of the city and expulsion of the Moors from Spain. As we
thought of the unfortunate Boabdil, the noble queen mother Ayxa, and the
beautiful Zoraya, driven into exile, giving up their beloved palace, the
home of their ancestors with all its wealth and beauty, to their hated
enemies, and leaving the land which had been in possession of the Moors
for eight centuries, we to some extent realized the sorrow that filled
the hearts of the departing exiles as they looked back for the last time
on the heights of Granada and wept.
[Illustration: CHARMING VIEWS FROM BOUDOIR WINDOWS.]
Although the buildings of the Alhambra are partly in ruins, the view
from the Old Watch Tower has not changed materially. Standing on the
tiled roof to which we climbed by many well worn stone steps, we saw a
magnificent panorama spread out before us. The city lay almost at our
feet; beautiful valleys extended for many miles dotted with white
villages; gray olive orchards appeared here and there; verdant hills
rose in the distance; and, forty miles away, the snow-covered peaks of
the Sierra Nevada pierced the sky.
After leaving the tower, we drove to the Palace of the Generalife, which
is situated on the mountain side considerably higher than the Alhambra.
We approached this beautifully located residence, where Moorish kings
came to spend the summer months, by a wide path bordered with tall
cypress trees. In the Court of the Cypresses our Spanish guide pointed
to a venerable tree and said: "That cypress is six hundred years old;
under it the guilty lovers, the Queen and Hamet, had their meetings
until discovered by King Boabdil."
In the gardens of the Generalife, we rambled amid oddly trimmed trees,
climbing roses, immense rose bushes, fountains, and grottoes, and wished
that our stay might be prolonged. The terraces of the garden have
flights of marble steps leading from one level to another. One of the
flights we descended had runlets of water flowing down on the top of the
marble balustrades. Water, clear and sparkling, which is brought from a
mountain stream above, is abundant everywhere in fountains and pools,
and in streamlets along the pathways.
Among the sights of the city the milk delivery was interesting to
strangers. A number of long-haired brown goats having been driven to the
door of a house, a pitcher was brought and the milk drawn fresh from one
of the goats; or a cow was led along the street and the milk furnished
directly from the cow in any quantity desired by the customer.
Small donkeys with panniers were used instead of wagons for the transfer
of almost every kind of material in the city and country. Often the
burdens were so large that the donkey was almost lost from sight. We saw
these patient little animals driven through the streets variously laden
with sacks of charcoal, bundles of wood, baskets of vegetables, crates
of oranges, bags of coal, cans of water, kegs of wine, or bearing
hampers filled with building stone, bright tinware, or new-mown grass.
Even the street cleaners shoveled into the panniers on the donkeys'
backs the dirt and refuse that had been collected on the streets.
Occasionally we saw men or women or children perched on the top of a
load. Two men were sometimes seen riding on one donkey, and once we
observed three large men on one small donkey.
[Illustration: INTO THE PANNIERS ON THE DONKEY'S BACK.]
As we drove along the streets to the station the residents at doors,
windows, and sidewalks smilingly commented among themselves on our
outlandish foreign costumes, evidently comparing our American styles
with their own familiar dress. It was certainly as interesting to the
Spanish women to observe the peculiarities of our costumes as it was for
us to notice the mantillas and gay bodices which gave them a picturesque
appearance in our eyes. We were being inspected as well as they; but the
Spaniards are so polite that there was nothing unpleasant in their
curiosity.
It was after midnight when the steam launches carried us across the bay
from Algeciras to our steamship. The reception given us at the Moltke,
after our two days' absence, made us feel that we had indeed arrived
home. Colored fires reddened the waters, clusters of electric lights
illumined the sides of the vessel, the band was playing on deck, and the
captain welcomed us at the head of the gangway. Then while the orchestra
played selections, a full course midnight dinner was served to the
hungry pilgrims.