to know something of the princes who left behind them this monument of
Oriental taste and magnificence,--and whose names still appear among the
inscriptions on its walls. To gratify this curiosity, I have descended
from this region of fancy and fable, where everything is liable to take
an imaginary tint, and have carried my researches among the dusty tomes
of the old Jesuits’ Library, in the University. This once boasted
repository of erudition is now a mere shadow of its former self, having
been stripped of its manuscripts and rarest works by the French, when
masters of Granada; still it contains, among many ponderous tomes of the
Jesuit fathers, which the French were careful to leave behind, several
curious tracts of Spanish literature; and above all, a number of those
antiquated parchment-bound chronicles for which I have a particular
veneration.
In this old library I have passed many delightful hours of quiet,
undisturbed, literary foraging; for the keys of the doors and bookcases
were kindly intrusted to me, and I was left alone, to rummage at my
pleasure,--a rare indulgence in these sanctuaries of learning, which too
often tantalize the thirsty student with the sight of sealed fountains
of knowledge.
In the course of these visits I gleaned a variety of facts concerning
historical characters connected with the Alhambra, some of which I here
subjoin, trusting they may prove acceptable to the reader.
ALHAMAR, THE FOUNDER OF THE ALHAMBRA
The Moors of Granada regarded the Alhambra as a miracle of art, and had
a tradition that the king who founded it dealt in magic, or at least in
alchemy, by means whereof he procured the immense sums of gold expended
in its erection. A brief view of his reign will show the secret of his
wealth. He is known in Arabian history as Muhamed Ibn-l-Ahmar; but his
name in general is written simply Alhamar, and was given to him, we are
told, on account of his ruddy complexion.[5]
He was of the noble and opulent line of the Beni Nasar, or tribe of
Nasar, and was born in Arjona, in the year of the Hegira 592 (A.D.
1195). At his birth the astrologers, we are told, cast his horoscope
according to Oriental custom, and pronounced it highly auspicious; and a
santon predicted for him a glorious career. No expense was spared in
fitting him for the high destinies prognosticated. Before he attained
the full years of manhood, the famous battle of the Navas (or plains) of
Tolosa shattered the Moorish empire, and eventually severed the Moslems
of Spain from the Moslems of Africa. Factions soon arose among the
former, headed by warlike chiefs ambitious of grasping the sovereignty
of the Peninsula. Alhamar became engaged in these wars; he was the
general and leader of the Beni Nasar, and, as such, he opposed and
thwarted the ambition of Aben Hud, who had raised his standard among
the warlike mountains of the Alpuxaras, and been proclaimed king of
Murcia and Granada. Many conflicts took place between these warring
chieftains; Alhamar dispossessed his rival of several important places,
and was proclaimed king of Jaen by his soldiery; but he aspired to the
sovereignty of the whole of Andalusia, for he was of a sanguine spirit
and lofty ambition. His valor and generosity went hand in hand; what he
gained by the one he secured by the other; and at the death of Aben Hud
(A.D. 1238) he became sovereign of all the territories which owed
allegiance to that powerful chief. He made his formal entry into Granada
in the same year, amid the enthusiastic shouts of the multitude, who
hailed him as the only one capable of uniting the various factions which
prevailed, and which threatened to lay the empire at the mercy of the
Christian princes.
Alhamar established his court in Granada; he was the first of the
illustrious line of Nasar that sat upon a throne. He took immediate
measures to put his little kingdom in a posture of defence against the
assaults to be expected from his Christian neighbors, repairing and
strengthening the frontier posts and fortifying the capital. Not content
with the provisions of the Moslem law, by which every man is made a
soldier, he raised a regular army to garrison his strongholds, allowing
every soldier stationed on the frontier a portion of land for the
support of himself, his horse, and his family,--thus interesting him in
the defence of the soil in which he had a property. These wise
precautions were justified by events. The Christians, profiting by the
dismemberment of the Moslem power, were rapidly regaining their ancient
territories. James the Conqueror had subjected all Valencia, and
Ferdinand the Saint sat down in person before Jaen, the bulwark of
Granada. Alhamar ventured to oppose him in open field, but met with a
signal defeat, and retired discomfited to his capital. Jaen still held
out, and kept the enemy at bay during an entire winter, but Ferdinand
swore not to raise his camp until he had gained possession of the place.
Alhamar found it impossible to throw reinforcements into the besieged
city; he saw that its fall must be followed by the investment of his
capital, and was conscious of the insufficiency of his means to cope
with the potent sovereign of Castile. Taking a sudden resolution,
therefore, he repaired privately to the Christian camp, made his
unexpected appearance in the presence of King Ferdinand, and frankly
announced himself as the king of Granada. “I come,” said he, “confiding
in your good faith, to put myself under your protection. Take all I
possess and receive me as your vassal”; so saying, he knelt and kissed
the king’s hand in token of allegiance.
Ferdinand was won by this instance of confiding faith, and determined
not to be outdone in generosity. He raised his late enemy from the
earth, embraced him as a friend, and, refusing the wealth he offered,
left him sovereign of his dominions, under the feudal tenure of a yearly
tribute, attendance at the Cortes as one of the nobles of the empire,
and service in war with a certain number of horsemen. He moreover
conferred on him the honor of knighthood, and armed him with his own
hands.
It was not long after this that Alhamar was called upon for his military
services, to aid King Ferdinand in his famous siege of Seville. The
Moorish king sallied forth with five hundred chosen horsemen of Granada,
than whom none in the world knew better how to manage the steed or wield
the lance. It was a humiliating service, however, for they had to draw
the sword against their brethren of the faith.
Alhamar gained a melancholy distinction by his prowess in this renowned
conquest, but more true honor by the humanity which he prevailed upon
Ferdinand to introduce into the usages of war. When in 1248 the famous
city of Seville surrendered to the Castilian monarch, Alhamar returned
sad and full of care to his dominions. He saw the gathering ills that
menaced the Moslem cause; and uttered an ejaculation often used by him
in moments of anxiety and trouble,--“How straitened and wretched would
be our life, if our hope were not so spacious and extensive.” “Que
angoste y miserabile seria nuestra vida, sino fuera tan dilatada y
espaciosa nuestra esperanza!”
As he approached Granada on his return he beheld arches of triumph which
had been erected in honor of his martial exploits. The people thronged
forth to see him with impatient joy, for his benignant rule had won all
hearts. Wherever he passed he was hailed with acclamations as “El
Ghalib!” (the conqueror). Alhamar gave a melancholy shake of the head on
hearing the appellation. “_Wa le ghalib ile Aláh!_” (there is no
conqueror but God) exclaimed he. From that time forward this exclamation
became his motto, and the motto of his descendants, and appears to this
day emblazoned on his escutcheons in the halls of the Alhambra.
Alhamar had purchased peace by submission to the Christian yoke; but he
was conscious that, with elements so discordant and motives for
hostility so deep and ancient, it could not be permanent. Acting,
therefore, upon the old maxim, “Arm thyself in peace and clothe thyself
in summer,” he improved the present interval of tranquillity by
fortifying his dominions, replenishing his arsenals, and promoting those
useful arts which give wealth and real power. He confided the command of
his various cities to such as had distinguished themselves by valor and
prudence, and who seemed most acceptable to the people. He organized a
vigilant police, and established rigid rules for the administration of
justice. The poor and the distressed always found ready admission to his
presence, and he attended personally to their assistance and redress. He
erected hospitals for the blind, the aged, and infirm, and all those
incapable of labor, and visited them frequently; not on set days with
pomp and form, so as to give time for everything to be put in order, and
every abuse concealed, but suddenly, and unexpectedly, informing
himself, by actual observation and close inquiry, of the treatment of
the sick, and the conduct of those appointed to administer to their
relief. He founded schools and colleges, which he visited in the same
manner, inspecting personally the instruction of the youth. He
established butcheries and public ovens, that the people might be
furnished with wholesome provisions at just and regular prices. He
introduced abundant streams of water into the city, erecting baths and
fountains, and constructing aqueducts and canals to irrigate and
fertilize the Vega. By these means prosperity and abundance prevailed in
this beautiful city; its gates were thronged with commerce, and its
warehouses filled with luxuries and merchandise of every clime and
country.
He moreover gave premiums and privileges to the best artisans; improved
the breed of horses and other domestic animals; encouraged husbandry;
and increased the natural fertility of the soil twofold by his
protection, making the lovely valleys of his kingdom to bloom like
gardens. He fostered also the growth and fabrication of silk, until the
looms of Granada surpassed even those of Syria in the fineness and
beauty of their productions. He moreover caused the mines of gold and
silver and other metals, found in the mountainous regions of his
dominions, to be diligently worked, and was the first king of Granada
who struck money of gold and silver with his name, taking great care
that the coins should be skilfully executed.
It was towards the middle of the thirteenth century, and just after his
return from the siege of Seville, that he commenced the splendid palace
of the Alhambra; superintending the building of it in person; mingling
frequently among the artists and workmen, and directing their labors.
Though thus magnificent in his works and great in his enterprises, he
was simple in his person and moderate in his enjoyments. His dress was
not merely void of splendor, but so plain as not to distinguish him from
his subjects. His harem boasted but few beauties, and these he visited
but seldom, though they were entertained with great magnificence. His
wives were daughters of the principal nobles, and were treated by him as
friends and rational companions. What is more, he managed to make them
live in friendship with one another. He passed much of his time in his
gardens; especially in those of the Alhambra, which he had stored with
the rarest plants and the most beautiful and aromatic flowers. Here he
delighted himself in reading histories, or in causing them to be read
and related to him, and sometimes, in intervals of leisure, employed
himself in the instruction of his three sons, for whom he had provided
the most learned and virtuous masters.
As he had frankly and voluntarily offered himself a tributary vassal to
Ferdinand, so he always remained loyal to his word, giving him repeated
proofs of fidelity and attachment. When that renowned monarch died in
Seville in 1254, Alhamar sent ambassadors to condole with his successor,
Alonzo X., and with them a gallant train of a hundred Moorish cavaliers
of distinguished rank, who were to attend round the royal bier during
the funeral ceremonies, each bearing a lighted taper. This grand
testimonial of respect was repeated by the Moslem monarch during the
remainder of his life on each anniversary of the death of King
Ferdinand el Santo, when the hundred Moorish knights repaired from
Granada to Seville, and took their stations with lighted tapers in the
centre of the sumptuous cathedral round the cenotaph of the illustrious
deceased.
Alhamar retained his faculties and vigor to an advanced age. In his
seventy-ninth year (A.D. 1272) he took the field on horseback,
accompanied by the flower of his chivalry, to resist an invasion of his
territories. As the army sallied forth from Granada, one of the
principal adalides, or guides, who rode in the advance, accidentally
broke his lance against the arch of the gate. The counsellors of the
king, alarmed by this circumstance, which was considered an evil omen,
entreated him to return. Their supplications were in vain. The king
persisted, and at noontide the omen, say the Moorish chroniclers, was
fatally fulfilled. Alhamar was suddenly struck with illness, and had
nearly fallen from his horse. He was placed on a litter, and borne back
towards Granada, but his illness increased to such a degree that they
were obliged to pitch his tent in the Vega. His physicians were filled
with consternation, not knowing what remedy to prescribe. In a few hours
he died, vomiting blood and in violent convulsions. The Castilian
prince, Don Philip, brother of Alonzo X., was by his side when he
expired. His body was embalmed, enclosed in a silver coffin, and buried
in the Alhambra in a sepulchre of precious marble, amidst the unfeigned
lamentations of his subjects, who bewailed him as a parent.
I have said that he was the first of the illustrious line of Nasar that
sat upon a throne. I may add that he was the founder of a brilliant
kingdom which will ever be famous in history and romance as the last
rallying-place of Moslem power and splendor in the Peninsula. Though his
undertakings were vast, and his expenditures immense, yet his treasury
was always full; and this seeming contradiction gave rise to the story
that he was versed in magic art, and possessed of the secret for
transmuting baser metals into gold. Those who have attended to his
domestic policy, as here set forth, will easily understand the natural
magic and simple alchemy which made his ample treasury to overflow.
YUSEF ABUL HAGIG
THE FINISHER OF THE ALHAMBRA
To the foregoing particulars, concerning the Moslem princes who once
reigned in these halls, I shall add a brief notice of the monarch who
completed and embellished the Alhambra. Yusef Abul Hagig (or, as it is
sometimes written, Haxis) was another prince of the noble line of Nasar.
He ascended the throne of Granada in the year of grace 1333, and is
described by Moslem writers as having a noble presence, great bodily
strength, and a fair complexion; and the majesty of his countenance
increased, say they, by suffering his beard to grow to a dignified
length and dyeing it black. His manners were gentle, affable, and
urbane; he carried the benignity of his nature into warfare, prohibiting
all wanton cruelty, and enjoining mercy and protection towards women and
children, the aged and infirm, and all friars and other persons of holy
and recluse life. But though he possessed the courage common to generous
spirits, the bent of his genius was more for peace than war, and though
repeatedly obliged by circumstances to take up arms, he was generally
unfortunate.
Among other ill-starred enterprises, he undertook a great campaign, in
conjunction with the king of Morocco, against the kings of Castile and
Portugal, but was defeated in the memorable battle of Salado, which had
nearly proved a death-blow to the Moslem power in Spain.
Yusef obtained a long truce after this defeat, and now his character
shone forth in its true lustre. He had an excellent memory, and had
stored his mind with science and erudition; his taste was altogether
elegant and refined, and he was accounted the best poet of his time.
Devoting himself to the instruction of his people and the improvement of
their morals and manners, he established schools in all the villages,
with simple and uniform systems of education; he obliged every hamlet of
more than twelve houses to have a mosque, and purified the ceremonies of
religion, and the festivals and popular amusements, from various abuses
and indecorums which had crept into them. He attended vigilantly to the
police of the city, establishing nocturnal guards and patrols, and
superintending all municipal concerns. His attention was also directed
towards finishing the great architectural works commenced by his
predecessors, and erecting others on his own plans. The Alhambra, which
had been founded by the good Alhamar, was now completed. Yusef
constructed the beautiful Gate of Justice, forming the grand entrance to
the fortress, which he finished in 1348. He likewise adorned many of the
courts and halls of the palace, as may be seen by the inscriptions on
the walls, in which his name repeatedly occurs. He built also the noble
Alcazar or citadel of Malaga, now unfortunately a mere mass of crumbling
ruins, but which most probably exhibited in its interior similar
elegance and magnificence with the Alhambra.
The genius of a sovereign stamps a character upon his time. The nobles
of Granada, imitating the elegant and graceful taste of Yusef, soon
filled the city of Granada with magnificent palaces; the halls of which
were paved with mosaic, the walls and ceilings wrought in fretwork, and
delicately gilded and painted with azure, vermilion, and other brilliant
colors, or minutely inlaid with cedar and other precious woods;
specimens of which have survived, in all their lustre, the lapse of
several centuries. Many of the houses had fountains, which threw up jets
of water to refresh and cool the air. They had lofty towers also, of
wood or stone, curiously carved and ornamented, and covered with plates
of metal that glittered in the sun. Such was the refined and delicate
taste in architecture that prevailed among this elegant people; insomuch
that, to use the beautiful simile of an Arabian writer, “Granada, in the
days of Yusef, was as a silver vase filled with emeralds and jacinths.”
One anecdote will be sufficient to show the magnanimity of this generous
prince. The long truce which had succeeded the battle of Salado was at
an end, and every effort of Yusef to renew it was in vain. His deadly
foe, Alfonso XI. of Castile, took the field with great force, and laid
siege to Gibraltar. Yusef reluctantly took up arms, and sent troops to
the relief of the place. In the midst of his anxiety, he received
tidings that his dreaded foe had suddenly fallen a victim to the plague.
Instead of manifesting exultation on the occasion, Yusef called to mind
the great qualities of the deceased, and was touched with a noble
sorrow. “Alas!” cried he, “the world has lost one of its most excellent
princes; a sovereign who knew how to honor merit, whether in friend or
foe!”
The Spanish chroniclers themselves bear witness to this magnanimity.
According to their accounts, the Moorish cavaliers partook of the
sentiment of their king, and put on mourning for the death of Alfonzo.
Even those of Gibraltar, who had been so closely invested, when they
knew that the hostile monarch lay dead in his camp, determined among
themselves that no hostile movement should be made against the
Christians. The day on which the camp was broken up, and the army
departed, bearing the corpse of Alfonzo, the Moors issued in multitudes
from Gibraltar, and stood mute and melancholy, watching the mournful
pageant. The same reverence for the deceased was observed by all the
Moorish commanders on the frontiers, who suffered the funeral train to
pass in safety, bearing the corpse of the Christian sovereign from
Gibraltar to Seville.[6]
Yusef did not long survive the enemy he had so generously deplored. In
the year 1354, as he was one day praying in the royal mosque of the
Alhambra, a maniac rushed suddenly from behind and plunged a dagger in
his side. The cries of the king brought his guards and courtiers to his
assistance. They found him weltering in his blood. He made some signs as
if to speak, but his words were unintelligible. They bore him senseless
to the royal apartments, where he expired almost immediately. The
murderer was cut to pieces, and his limbs burnt in public to gratify the
fury of the populace.
The body of the king was interred in a superb sepulchre of white marble;
a long epitaph, in letters of gold upon an azure ground, recorded his
virtues. “Here lies a king and martyr, of an illustrious line, gentle,
learned, and virtuous; renowned for the graces of his person and his
manners; whose clemency, piety, and benevolence were extolled throughout
the kingdom of Granada. He was a great prince; an illustrious captain; a
sharp sword of the Moslems; a valiant standard-bearer among the most
potent monarchs,” &c.
The mosque still exists which once resounded with the dying cries of
Yusef, but the monument which recorded his virtues has long since
disappeared. His name, however, remains inscribed among the delicate and
graceful ornaments of the Alhambra, and will be perpetuated in
connection with this renowned pile, which it was his pride and delight
to beautify.
THE MYSTERIOUS CHAMBERS
As I was rambling one day about the Moorish halls, my attention was, for
the first time, attracted to a door in a remote gallery, communicating
apparently with some part of the Alhambra which I had not yet explored.
I attempted to open it, but it was locked. I knocked, but no one
answered, and the sound seemed to reverberate through empty chambers.
Here then was a mystery. Here was the haunted wing of the castle. How
was I to get at the dark secrets here shut up from the public eye?
Should I come privately at night with lamp and sword, according to the
prying custom of heroes of romance; or should I endeavor to draw the
secret from Pépe the stuttering gardener; or the ingenuous Dolores, or
the loquacious Mateo? Or should I go frankly and openly to Dame Antonia
the chatelaine, and ask her all about it? I chose the latter course, as
being the simplest though the least romantic; and found, somewhat to my
disappointment, that there was no mystery in the case. I was welcome to
explore the apartment, and there was the key.
Thus provided, I returned forthwith to the door. It opened, as I had
surmised, to a range of vacant chambers; but they were quite different
from the rest of the palace. The architecture, though rich and
antiquated, was European. There was nothing Moorish about it. The first
two rooms were lofty; the ceilings, broken in many places, were of
cedar, deeply panelled and skilfully carved with fruits and flowers,
intermingled with grotesque masks or faces.