for the thoughts that were bewildering his brain. Bright and early he
repaired to the shop of the Moor, and told him all that was passing in
his mind. “You can read Arabic,” said he; “suppose we go together to the
tower, and try the effect of the charm; if it fails, we are no worse off
than before; but if it succeeds, we will share equally all the treasure
we may discover.”
“Hold,” replied the Moslem; “this writing is not sufficient of itself;
it must be read at midnight, by the light of a taper singularly
compounded and prepared, the ingredients of which are not within my
reach. Without such a taper the scroll is of no avail.”
“Say no more!” cried the little Gallego; “I have such a taper at hand,
and will bring it here in a moment.” So saying, he hastened home, and
soon returned with the end of yellow wax taper that he had found in the
box of sandal-wood.
The Moor felt it and smelt to it. “Here are rare and costly perfumes,”
said he, “combined with this yellow wax. This is the kind of taper
specified in the scroll. While this burns, the strongest walls and most
secret caverns will remain open. Woe to him, however, who lingers within
until it be extinguished. He will remain enchanted with the treasure.”
It was now agreed between them to try the charm that very night. At a
late hour, therefore, when nothing was stirring but bats and owls, they
ascended the woody hill of the Alhambra, and approached that awful
tower, shrouded by trees and rendered formidable by so many traditionary
tales. By the light of a lantern they groped their way through bushes,
and over fallen stones, to the door of a vault beneath the tower. With
fear and trembling they descended a flight of steps cut into the rock.
It led to an empty chamber, damp and drear, from which another flight of
steps led to a deeper vault. In this way they descended four several
flights, leading into as many vaults, one below the other, but the floor
of the fourth was solid; and though, according to tradition, there
remained three vaults still below, it was said to be impossible to
penetrate further, the residue being shut up by strong enchantment. The
air of this vault was damp and chilly, and had an earthy smell, and the
light scarce cast forth any rays. They paused here for a time, in
breathless suspense, until they faintly heard the clock of the
watch-tower strike midnight; upon this they lit the waxen taper, which
diffused an odor of myrrh and frankincense and storax.
The Moor began to read in a hurried voice. He had scarce finished when
there was a noise as of subterraneous thunder. The earth shook, and the
floor, yawning open, disclosed a flight of steps. Trembling with awe,
they descended, and by the light of the lantern found themselves in
another vault covered with Arabic inscriptions. In the centre stood a
great chest, secured with seven bands of steel, at each end of which sat
an enchanted Moor in armor, but motionless as a statue, being controlled
by the power of the incantation. Before the chest were several jars
filled with gold and silver and precious stones. In the largest of these
they thrust their arms up to the elbow, and at every dip hauled forth
handfuls of broad yellow pieces of Moorish gold, or bracelets and
ornaments of the same precious metal, while occasionally a necklace of
Oriental pearl would stick to their fingers. Still they trembled and
breathed short while cramming their pockets with the spoils; and cast
many a fearful glance at the two enchanted Moors, who sat grim and
motionless, glaring upon them with unwinking eyes. At length, struck
with a sudden panic at some fancied noise, they both rushed up the
staircase, tumbled over one another into the upper apartment, overturned
and extinguished the waxen taper, and the pavement again closed with a
thundering sound.
Filled with dismay, they did not pause until they had groped their way
out of the tower, and beheld the stars shining through the trees. Then
seating themselves upon the grass, they divided the spoil, determining
to content themselves for the present with this mere skimming of the
jars, but to return on some future night and drain them to the bottom.
To make sure of each other’s good faith, also, they divided the
talismans between them, one retaining the scroll and the other the
taper; this done, they set off with light hearts and well-lined pockets
for Granada.
As they wended their way down the hill, the shrewd Moor whispered a word
of counsel in the ear of the simple little water-carrier.
“Friend Peregil,” said he, “all this affair must be kept a profound
secret until we have secured the treasure, and conveyed it out of harm’s
way. If a whisper of it gets to the ear of the alcalde, we are undone!”
“Certainly,” replied the Gallego, “nothing can be more true.”
“Friend Peregil,” said the Moor, “you are a discreet man, and I make no
doubt can keep a secret; but you have a wife.”
“She shall not know a word of it,” replied the little water-carrier
sturdily.
“Enough,” said the Moor, “I depend upon thy discretion and thy promise.”
Never was promise more positive and sincere; but, alas! what man can
keep a secret from his wife? Certainly not such a one as Peregil the
water-carrier, who was one of the most loving and tractable of husbands.
On his return home, he found his wife moping in a corner. “Mighty well,”
cried she as he entered, “you’ve come at last, after rambling about
until this hour of the night. I wonder you have not brought home
another Moor as a house-mate.” Then bursting into tears, she began to
wring her hands and smite her breast. “Unhappy woman that I am!”
exclaimed she, “what will become of me? My house stripped and plundered
by lawyers and alguazils; my husband a do-no-good, that no longer brings
home bread to his family, but goes rambling about day and night, with
infidel Moors! O my children! my children! what will become of us? We
shall all have to beg in the streets!”
Honest Peregil was so moved by the distress of his spouse, that he could
not help whimpering also. His heart was as full as his pocket, and not
to be restrained. Thrusting his hand into the latter he hauled forth
three or four broad gold pieces, and slipped them into her bosom. The
poor woman stared with astonishment, and could not understand the
meaning of this golden shower. Before she could recover her surprise,
the little Gallego drew forth a chain of gold and dangled it before her,
capering with exultation, his mouth distended from ear to ear.
“Holy Virgin protect us!” exclaimed the wife. “What hast thou been
doing, Peregil? surely thou hast not been committing murder and
robbery!”
The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor woman, than it became a
certainty with her. She saw a prison and a gallows in the distance, and
a little bandy-legged Gallego hanging pendent from it; and, overcome by
the horrors conjured up by her imagination, fell into violent hysterics.
What could the poor man do? He had no other means of pacifying his wife,
and dispelling the phantoms of her fancy, than by relating the whole
story of his good fortune. This, however, he did not do until he had
exacted from her the most solemn promise to keep it a profound secret
from every living being.
To describe her joy would be impossible. She flung her arms round the
neck of her husband, and almost strangled him with her caresses. “Now,
wife,” exclaimed the little man with honest exultation, “what say you
now to the Moor’s legacy? Henceforth never abuse me for helping a
fellow-creature in distress.”
The honest Gallego retired to his sheep-skin mat, and slept as soundly
as if on a bed of down. Not so his wife; she emptied the whole contents
of his pockets upon the mat, and sat counting gold pieces of Arabic
coin, trying on necklaces and earrings, and fancying the figure she
should one day make when permitted to enjoy her riches.
On the following morning the honest Gallego took a broad golden coin,
and repaired with it to a jeweller’s shop in the Zacatin to offer it for
sale, pretending to have found it among the ruins of the Alhambra. The
jeweller saw that it had an Arabic inscription, and was of the purest
gold; he offered, however, but a third of its value, with which the
water-carrier was perfectly content. Peregil now bought new clothes for
his little flock, and all kinds of toys, together with ample provisions
for a hearty meal, and returning to his dwelling, set all his children
dancing around him, while he capered in the midst, the happiest of
fathers.
The wife of the water-carrier kept her promise of secrecy with
surprising strictness. For a whole day and a half she went about with a
look of mystery and a heart swelling almost to bursting, yet she held
her peace, though surrounded by her gossips. It is true, she could not
help giving herself a few airs, apologized for her ragged dress, and
talked of ordering a new basquiña all trimmed with gold lace and bugles,
and a new lace mantilla. She threw out hints of her husband’s intention
of leaving off his trade of water-carrying, as it did not altogether
agree with his health. In fact she thought they should all retire to the
country for the summer, that the children might have the benefit of the
mountain air, for there was no living in the city in this sultry season.
The neighbors stared at each other, and thought the poor woman had lost
her wits; and her airs and graces and elegant pretensions were the theme
of universal scoffing and merriment among her friends, the moment her
back was turned.
If she restrained herself abroad, however, she indemnified herself at
home, and putting a string of rich Oriental pearls round her neck,
Moorish bracelets on her arms, and an aigrette of diamonds on her head,
sailed backwards and forwards in her slattern rags about the room, now
and then stopping to admire herself in a broken mirror. Nay, in the
impulse of her simple vanity, she could not resist, on one occasion,
showing herself at the window to enjoy the effect of her finery on the
passers-by.
As the fates would have it, Pedrillo Pedrugo, the meddlesome barber, was
at this moment sitting idly in his shop on the opposite side of the
street, when his ever-watchful eye caught the sparkle of a diamond. In
an instant he was at his loophole reconnoitring the slattern spouse of
the water-carrier, decorated with the splendor of an eastern bride. No
sooner had he taken an accurate inventory of her ornaments, than he
posted off with all speed to the alcalde. In a little while the hungry
alguazil was again on the scent, and before the day was over the
unfortunate Peregil was once more dragged into the presence of the
judge.
“How is this, villain!” cried the alcalde, in a furious voice. “You told
me that the infidel who died in your house left nothing behind but an
empty coffer, and now I hear of your wife flaunting in her rags decked
out with pearls and diamonds. Wretch that thou art! prepare to render up
the spoils of thy miserable victim, and to swing on the gallows that is
already tired of waiting for thee.”
The terrified water-carrier fell on his knees, and made a full relation
of the marvellous manner in which he had gained his wealth. The alcalde,
the alguazil, and the inquisitive barber listened with greedy ears to
this Arabian tale of enchanted treasure. The alguazil was dispatched to
bring the Moor who had assisted in the incantation. The Moslem entered
half frightened out of his wits at finding himself in the hands of the
harpies of the law. When he beheld the water-carrier standing with
sheepish looks and downcast countenance, he comprehended the whole
matter. “Miserable animal,” said he, as he passed near him, “did I not
warn thee against babbling to thy wife?”
The story of the Moor coincided exactly with that of his colleague; but
the alcalde affected to be slow of belief, and threw out menaces of
imprisonment and rigorous investigation.
“Softly, good Señor Alcalde,” said the Mussulman, who by this time had
recovered his usual shrewdness and self-possession. “Let us not mar
fortune’s favors in the scramble for them. Nobody knows anything of this
matter but ourselves; let us keep the secret. There is wealth enough in
the cave to enrich us all. Promise a fair division, and all shall be
produced; refuse, and the cave shall remain forever closed.”
The alcalde consulted apart with the alguazil. The latter was an old fox
in his profession. “Promise anything,” said he, “until you get
possession of the treasure. You may then seize upon the whole, and if he
and his accomplice dare to murmur, threaten them with the fagot and the
stake as infidels and sorcerers.”
The alcalde relished the advice. Smoothing his brow and turning to the
Moor, “This is a strange story,” said he, “and may be true, but I must
have ocular proof of it. This very night you must repeat the incantation
in my presence. If there be really such treasure, we will share it
amicably between us, and say nothing further of the matter; if ye have
deceived me, expect no mercy at my hands. In the mean time you must
remain in custody.”
The Moor and the water-carrier cheerfully agreed to these conditions,
satisfied that the event would prove the truth of their words.
Towards midnight the alcalde sallied forth secretly, attended by the
alguazil and the meddlesome barber, all strongly armed. They conducted
the Moor and the water-carrier as prisoners, and were provided with the
stout donkey of the latter to bear off the expected treasure. They
arrived at the tower without being observed, and tying the donkey to a
fig-tree, descended into the fourth vault of the tower.
The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen taper lighted, and the Moor
read the form of incantation. The earth trembled as before, and the
pavement opened with a thundering sound, disclosing the narrow flight of
steps. The alcalde, the alguazil, and the barber were struck aghast, and
could not summon courage to descend. The Moor and the water-carrier
entered the lower vault, and found the two Moors seated as before,
silent and motionless. They removed two of the great jars, filled with
golden coin and precious stones. The water-carrier bore them up one by
one upon his shoulders, but though a strong-backed little man, and
accustomed to carry burdens, he staggered beneath their weight, and
found, when slung on each side of his donkey, they were as much as the
animal could bear.
“Let us be content for the present,” said the Moor; “here is as much
treasure as we can carry off without being perceived, and enough to make
us all wealthy to our heart’s desire.”
“Is there more treasure remaining behind?” demanded the alcalde.
“The greatest prize of all,” said the Moor, “a huge coffer bound with
bands of steel, and filled with pearls and precious stones.”
“Let us have up the coffer by all means,” cried the grasping alcalde.
“I will descend for no more,” said the Moor, doggedly; “enough is enough
for a reasonable man--more is superfluous.”
“And I,” said the water-carrier, “will bring up no further burden to
break the back of my poor donkey.”
Finding commands, threats, and entreaties equally vain, the alcalde
turned to his two adherents. “Aid me,” said he, “to bring up the coffer,
and its contents shall be divided between us.” So saying, he descended
the steps, followed with trembling reluctance by the alguazil and the
barber.
No sooner did the Moor behold them fairly earthed than he extinguished
the yellow taper; the pavement closed with its usual crash, and the
three worthies remained buried in its womb.
He then hastened up the different flight of steps, nor stopped until in
the open air. The little water-carrier followed him as fast as his short
legs would permit.
“What hast thou done?” cried Peregil, as soon as he could recover
breath. “The alcalde and the other two are shut up in the vault.”
“It is the will of Allah!” said the Moor, devoutly.
“And will you not release them?” demanded the Gallego.
“Allah forbid!” replied the Moor, smoothing his beard. “It is written in
the book of fate that they shall remain enchanted until some future
adventurer arrive to break the charm. The will of God be done!” so
saying, he hurled the end of the waxen taper far among the gloomy
thickets of the glen.
There was now no remedy; so the Moor and the water-carrier proceeded
with the richly laden donkey toward the city, nor could honest Peregil
refrain from hugging and kissing his long-eared fellow-laborer, thus
restored to him from the clutches of the law; and, in fact, it is
doubtful which gave the simple-hearted little man most joy at the
moment, the gaining of the treasure, or the recovery of the donkey.
The two partners in good luck divided their spoil amicably and fairly,
except that the Moor, who had a little taste for trinketry, made out to
get into his heap the most of the pearls and precious stones and other
baubles, but then he always gave the water-carrier in lieu magnificent
jewels of massy gold, of five times the size, with which the latter was
heartily content. They took care not to linger within reach of
accidents, but made off to enjoy their wealth undisturbed in other
countries. The Moor returned to Africa, to his native city of Tangiers,
and the Gallego, with his wife, his children, and his donkey, made the
best of his way to Portugal. Here, under the admonition and tuition of
his wife, he became a personage of some consequence, for she made the
worthy little man array his long body and short legs in doublet and
hose, with a feather in his hat and a sword by his side, and laying
aside his familiar appellation of Peregil, assume the more sonorous
title of Don Pedro Gil: his progeny grew up a thriving and
merry-hearted, though short and bandy-legged generation, while Señora
Gil, befringed, belaced, and betasselled from her head to her heels,
with glittering rings on every finger, became a model of slattern
fashion and finery.
As to the alcalde and his adjuncts, they remained shut up under the
great tower of the seven floors, and there they remain spell-bound at
the present day. Whenever there shall be a lack in Spain of pimping
barbers, sharking alguazils, and corrupt alcaldes, they may be sought
after; but if they have to wait until such time for their deliverance,
there is danger of their enchantment enduring until doomsday.
THE TOWER OF LAS INFANTAS
In an evening’s stroll up a narrow glen, overshadowed by fig-trees,
pomegranates, and myrtles, which divides the lands of the fortress from
those of the Generalife, I was struck with the romantic appearance of a
Moorish tower in the outer wall of the Alhambra, rising high above the
tree-tops, and catching the ruddy rays of the setting sun. A solitary
window at a great height commanded a view of the glen; and as I was
regarding it, a young female looked out, with her head adorned with
flowers. She was evidently superior to the usual class of people
inhabiting the old towers of the fortress; and this sudden and
picturesque glimpse of her reminded me of the descriptions of captive
beauties in fairy tales. These fanciful associations were increased on
being informed by my attendant Mateo, that this was the Tower of the
Princesses (La Torre de las Infantas); so called, from having been,
according to tradition, the residence of the daughters of the Moorish
kings. I have since visited the tower. It is not generally shown to
strangers, though well worthy of attention, for the interior is equal,
for beauty of architecture and delicacy of ornament, to any part of the
palace. The elegance of the central hall, with its marble fountain, its
lofty arches, and richly fretted dome; the arabesques and stucco-work of
the small but well-proportioned chambers, though injured by time and
neglect, all accord with the story of its being anciently the abode of
royal beauty.
The little old fairy queen who lives under the staircase of the
Alhambra, and frequents the evening tertulias of Dame Antonia, tells
some fanciful traditions about three Moorish princesses who were once
shut up in this tower by their father, a tyrant king of Granada, and
were only permitted to ride out at night about the hills, when no one
was permitted to come in their way under pain of death. They still,
according to her account, may be seen occasionally when the moon is in
the full, riding in lonely places along the mountain-side, on palfreys
richly caparisoned and sparkling with jewels, but they vanish on being
spoken to.
But before I relate anything further respecting these princesses, the
reader may be anxious to know something about the fair inhabitant of the
tower, with her head dressed with flowers, who looked out from the lofty
window. She proved to be the newly married spouse of the worthy adjutant
of invalids; who, though well stricken in years, had had the courage to
take to his bosom a young and buxom Andalusian damsel. May the good old
cavalier be happy in his choice, and find the Tower of the Princesses a
more secure residence for female beauty than it seems to have proved in
the time of the Moslems, if we may believe the following legend!
LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES
In old times there reigned a Moorish king in Granada, whose name was
Mohamed, to which his subjects added the appellation of El Hayzari, or
“The Left-handed.” Some say he was so called on account of his being
really more expert with his sinister than his dexter hand; others,
because he was prone to take everything by the wrong end, or, in other
words, to mar wherever he meddled. Certain it is, either through
misfortune or mismanagement, he was continually in trouble: thrice was
he driven from his throne, and on one occasion barely escaped to Africa
with his life, in the disguise of a fisherman.[18] Still he was as brave
as he was blundering; and though left-handed, wielded his cimeter to
such purpose, that he each time re-established himself upon his throne
by dint of hard fighting. Instead, however, of learning wisdom from
adversity, he hardened his neck, and stiffened his left arm in
wilfulness. The evils of a public nature which he thus brought upon
himself and his kingdom may be learned by those who will delve into the
Arabian annals of Granada; the present legend deals but with his
domestic policy.
As this Mohamed was one day riding forth with a train of his courtiers,
by the foot of the mountain of Elvira, he met a band of horsemen
returning from a foray into the land of the Christians. They were
conducting a long string of mules laden with spoil, and many captives of
both sexes, among whom the monarch was struck with the appearance of a
beautiful damsel, richly attired, who sat weeping on a low palfrey, and
heeded not the consoling words of a duenna who rode beside her.
The monarch was struck with her beauty, and, on inquiring of the captain
of the troop, found that she was the daughter of the alcayde of a
frontier fortress, that had been surprised and sacked in the course of
the foray. Mohamed claimed her as his royal share of the booty, and had
her conveyed to his harem in the Alhambra. There everything was devised
to soothe her melancholy; and the monarch, more and more enamored,
sought to make her his queen. The Spanish maid at first repulsed his
addresses: he was an infidel; he was the open foe of her country; what
was worse, he was stricken in years!
The monarch, finding his assiduities of no avail, determined to enlist
in his favor the duenna, who had been captured with the lady. She was an
Andalusian by birth, whose Christian name is forgotten, being mentioned
in Moorish legends by no other appellation than that of the discreet
Kadiga; and discreet in truth she was, as her whole history makes
evident. No sooner had the Moorish king held a little private
conversation with her, than she saw at once the cogency of his
reasoning, and undertook his cause with her young mistress.