"The Alhambra has been so often and so minutely described by
travellers, that a mere sketch will, probably, be sufficient for the
reader to refresh his recollection; I will give, therefore, a brief
account of our visit to it the morning after our arrival in Granada.
"Leaving our posada of La Espada, we traversed the renowned square of
the Vivarrambla, once the scene of Moorish jousts and tournaments, now
a crowded market-place. From thence we proceeded along the Zacatin,
the main street of what, in the time of the Moors, was the Great
Bazaar, where the small shops and narrow allies still retain the
Oriental character. Crossing an open place in front of the palace of
the captain-general, we ascended a confined and winding street, the
name of which reminded us of the chivalric days of Granada. It is
called the Calle, or street of the Gomeres, from a Moorish family
famous in chronicle and song. This street led up to a massive gateway
of Grecian architecture, built by Charles V. forming the entrance to
the domains of the Alhambra.
"At the gate were two or three ragged and superannuated soldiers,
dozing on a stone bench, the successors of the Zegris and the
Abencerrages; while a tall meagre varlet, whose rusty-brown cloak was
evidently intended to conceal the ragged state of his nether garments,
was lounging in the sunshine and gossiping with an ancient sentinel on
duty. He joined us as we entered the gate, and offered his services to
show us the fortress.
"I have a traveller's dislike to officious ciceroni, and did
not-altogether like the garb of the applicant.
"'You are well acquainted with the place, I presume?'
"'Ninguno mas; pues Senor, soy hijo de la Alhambra.'--(Nobody better;
in fact, Sir, I am a son of the Alhambra!)
"The common Spaniards have certainly a most poetical way of expressing
themselves. 'A son of the Alhambra!' the appellation caught me at
once; the very tattered garb of my new acquaintance assumed a dignity
in my eyes. It was emblematic of the fortunes of the place, and
befitted the progeny of a ruin.
"I put some farther questions to him, and found that his title was
legitimate. His family had lived in the fortress from generation to
generation ever since the time of the conquest. His name was Mateo
Ximenes. 'Then, perhaps,' said I, 'you may be a descendant from the
great Cardinal Ximenes?'--'Dios Sabe! God knows, Senor! It may be so.
We are the oldest family in the Alhambra,--_Christianos Viejos_, old
Christians, without any taint of Moor or Jew. I know we belong to some
great family or other, but I forget whom. My father knows all about
it: he has the coat-of-arms hanging up in his cottage, up in the
fortress.' There is not any Spaniard, however poor, but has some claim
to high pedigree. The first title of this ragged worthy, however, had
completely captivated me, so I gladly accepted the services of the
'son of the Alhambra.'
"We now found ourselves in a deep narrow ravine, filled with beautiful
groves, with a steep avenue, and various footpaths winding through it,
bordered with stone seats, and ornamented with fountains. To our left,
we beheld the towers of the Alhambra beetling above us; to our right,
on the opposite side of the ravine, we were equally dominated by
rival towers on a rocky eminence. These, we were told, were the Torres
Vermejos, or vermilion towers, so called from their ruddy hue. No one
knows their origin. They are of a date much anterior to the Alhambra:
some suppose them to have been built by the Romans; others, by some
wandering colony of Phoenicians. Ascending the steep and shady avenue,
we arrived at the foot of a huge square Moorish tower; forming a kind
of barbican, through which passed the main entrance to the fortress.
Within the barbican was another group of veteran invalids, one
mounting guard at the portal, while the rest, wrapped in their
tattered cloaks, slept on the stone benches. This portal is called the
Gate of Justice, from the tribunal held within its porch during the
Moslem domination, for the immediate trial of petty causes: a custom
common to the Oriental nations, and occasionally alluded to in the
Sacred Scriptures.
"The great vestibule or porch of the gate, is formed by an immense
Arabian arch, of the horse-shoe form, which springs to half the height
of the tower. On the key-stone of this arch is engraven a gigantic
hand. Within the vestibule, on the key-stone of the portal, is
sculptured, in like manner, a gigantic key. Those who pretend to some
knowledge of Mahometan symbols, affirm that the hand is the emblem of
doctrine, and the key of faith; the latter, they add, was emblazoned
on the standard of the Moslems when they subdued Andalusia, in
opposition to the Christian emblem of the Cross. A different
explanation, however, was given by the legitimate son of the Alhambra,
and one more in unison with the notions of the common people, who
attach something of mystery and magic to every thing Moorish, and have
all kind of superstitions connected with this old Moslem fortress.
"According to Mateo, it was a tradition handed down from the oldest
inhabitants, and which he had from his father and grandfather,
that the hand and key were magical devices on which the fate of the
Alhambra depended. The Moorish King who built it was a great magician,
or, as some believed, had sold himself to the devil, and had laid
the whole fortress under a magic spell. By this means it had remained
standing for several hundred years, in defiance of storms and
earthquakes, while almost all other buildings of the Moors had fallen
to ruin, and disappeared. This spell, the tradition went on to say,
would last until the hand on the outer arch should reach down and
grasp the key, when the whole pile would tumble to pieces, and all the
treasures buried beneath it by the Moors would be revealed.
"Notwithstanding this ominous prediction, we ventured to pass through
the spell-bound gateway, feeling some little assurance against magic
art in the protection of the Virgin, a statue of whom we observed
above the portal.
"After passing through the barbican, we ascended a narrow lane,
winding between walls, and came on an open esplanade within the
fortress, called the Plaza de los Algibes, or Place of the Cisterns,
from great reservoirs which undermine it, cut in the living rock by
the Moors for the supply of the fortress. Here, also, is a well of
immense depth, furnishing the purest and coldest of water; another
monument of the delicate taste of the Moors, who were indefatigable in
their exertions to obtain that element in its crystal purity.
"In front of this esplanade is the splendid pile commenced by Charles
V., intended, it is said, to eclipse the residence of the Moslem
kings. With all its grandeur and architectural merit, it appeared
to us like an arrogant intrusion, and, passing by it, we entered
a simple, unostentatious portal, opening into the interior of the
Moorish palace.
"The transition was almost magical: it seemed as if we were at once
transported into other times and another realm, and were treading the
scenes of Arabian story. We found ourselves in a great court, paved
with white marble, and decorated at each end with light Moorish
peristyles: it is called the Court of the Alberca. In the centre was
an immense basin or fish-pond, a hundred and thirty feet in length by
thirty in breadth, stocked with gold-fish and bordered by hedges of
roses. At the upper end of this court rose the great Tower of Comares.
"From the lower end we passed through a Moorish archway into the
renowned Court of Lions. There is no part of the edifice that gives
us a more complete idea of its original beauty and magnificence than
this, for none has suffered so little from the ravages of time. In
the centre stands the fountain famous in song and story. The alabaster
basins still shed their diamond drops; and the twelve lions, which
support them, cast forth their crystal streams as in the days of
Boabdil. The court is laid out in flower-beds, and surrounded by light
Arabian arcades of open filagree work, supported by slender pillars
of white marble. The architecture, like that of all the other parts
of the palace, is characterized by elegance rather than grandeur;
bespeaking a delicate and graceful taste, and a disposition to
indolent enjoyment. When one looks upon the fairy tracery of the
peristyles, and the apparently fragile fretwork of the walls, it is
difficult to believe that so much has survived the wear and tear of
centuries, the shocks of earthquakes, the violence of war, and the
quiet, though no less baneful, pilferrings of the tasteful traveller:
it is almost sufficient to excuse the popular tradition, that the
whole is protected by a magic charm.
"On one side of the court, a portal, richly adorned, opens into a
lofty hall, paved with white marble, and called the Hall of the Two
Sisters. A cupola, or lantern, admits a tempered light from above, and
a free circulation of air. The lower part of the walls is encrusted
with beautiful Moorish tiles, on some of which are emblazoned the
escutcheons of the Moorish monarchs: the upper part is faced with the
fine stucco-work invented at Damascus, consisting of large plates,
cast in moulds, and artfully joined, so as to have the appearance of
having been laboriously sculptured by the hand into light relievos
and fanciful arabesques, intermingled with texts of the Koran,
and poetical inscriptions in Arabian and Cufic character. These
decorations of the walls and cupolas are richly gilded, and the
interstices pencilled with lapis-lazuli, and other brilliant and
enduring colours. On each side of the hall are recesses for ottomans
and couches. Above the inner porch is a balcony, which communicated
with the women's apartments. The latticed 'jalousies' still remain,
from whence the dark-eyed beauties of the haram might gaze unseen upon
the entertainments of the hall below.
"It is impossible to contemplate this once favourite abode of Oriental
manners without feeling the early associations of Arabian romance,
and almost expecting to see the white arm of some mysterious princess
beckoning from the balcony, or some dark eye sparkling through the
lattice. The abode of beauty is here, as if it had been inhabited but
yesterday; but where are the Zoraydas and Lindaraxas?
"On the opposite side of the Court of Lions, is the Hall of the
Abencerrages; so called from the gallant cavaliers of that illustrious
line who were here perfidiously massacred. There are some who doubt
the whole truth of this story; but our humble attendant Mateo pointed
out the very wicket of the portal through which they are said to have
been introduced, one by one, and the white marble fountain in the
centre of the hall where they were beheaded. He showed us also certain
broad ruddy stains in the pavement, traces of their blood, which,
according to popular belief, can never be effaced. Finding we listened
to him with easy faith, he added, that there was often heard at night,
in the Court of Lions, a low, confused sound, resembling the murmuring
of a multitude; with now and then a faint tinkling, like the distant
clank of chains. These noises are probably produced by the bubbling
currents and tinkling falls of water, conducted under the pavement,
through pipes and channels, to supply the fountains; but, according to
the legend of the son of the Alhambra, they are made by the spirits
of the murdered Abencerrages, who nightly haunt the scene of their
suffering, and invoke the vengeance of Heaven on their destroyer.
"From the Court of Lions we retraced our steps through the Court of
the Alberca, or Great Fishpool; crossing which we proceeded to the
Tower of Comares, so called from the name of the Arabian architect. It
is of massive strength and lofty height, domineering over the rest
of the edifice, and overhanging the steep hill-side, which descends
abruptly to the banks of the Darro. A Moorish archway admitted us into
a vast and lofty hall, which occupies the interior of the tower, and
was the grand audience chamber of the Moslem monarchs, thence
called the Hall of Ambassadors. It still bears the traces of past
magnificence. The walls are richly stuccoed and decorated with
arabesques; the vaulted ceiling of cedar-wood, almost lost in
obscurity, from its height, still gleams with rich gilding, and the
brilliant tints of the Arabian pencil. On three sides of the saloon
are deep windows cut through the immense thickness of the walls, the
balconies of which look down upon the verdant valley of the Darro, the
streets and convents of the Albaycin, and command a prospect of the
distant Vega.
"I might go on to describe minutely the other delightful apartments of
this side of the palace; the Tocador, or toilet of the queen, an
open belvidere, on the summit of a tower, where the Moorish sultanas
enjoyed the pure breezes from the mountain, and the prospect of
the surrounding paradise; the secluded little patio, or garden of
Lindaraxa, with its alabaster fountain, its thickets of roses and
myrtles, of citrons and oranges; the cool halls and grottoes of
the baths, where the glare and heat of day are tempered into a soft
mysterious light, and a pervading freshness.
"While the city below pants with the noontide heat, and the parched
vega trembles to the eye, the delicate airs from the Sierra Nevada,
play through these lofty halls, bringing with them the sweetness of
the surrounding gardens. Every thing invites to that indolent repose,
the bliss of southern climes; and while the half-shut eye looks out
from shaded balconies upon the glittering landscape, the ear is lulled
by the rustling of groves, and the murmur of running streams." Here we
must end.
The Sketches bear the very perfection of romance in their titles. Yes,
expectant reader, think of the Alhambra by Moonlight--A Ramble
among the Hills--Legend of the Arabian Astrologer--The Tower of Las
Infantas--Legends of the three beautiful Princesses--The Pilgrim of
Love--The Rose of the Alhambra,--the two discreet Statues, &c. &c.
What hours of spell-bound delight do these two volumes lock up, yet
we hope but for a short season, from all who would vary "life's dull
round" with romantic lore.
* * * * *