admiring groups of majos and majas, or prompt with his music the
ever-ready dance. He was thus engaged one evening when he beheld a padre
of the church advancing, at whose approach every one touched the hat. He
was evidently a man of consequence; he certainly was a mirror of good if
not of holy living; robust and rosy-faced, and breathing at every pore
with the warmth of the weather and the exercise of the walk. As he
passed along he would every now and then draw a maravedi out of his
pocket and bestow it on a beggar, with an air of signal beneficence.
“Ah, the blessed father!” would be the cry; “long life to him, and may
he soon be a bishop!”
To aid his steps in ascending the hill he leaned gently now and then on
the arm of a handmaid, evidently the pet-lamb of this kindest of
pastors. Ah, such a damsel! Andalus from head to foot; from the rose in
her hair, to the fairy shoe and lacework stocking; Andalus in every
movement; in every undulation of the body:--ripe, melting Andalus!--But
then so modest!--so shy!--ever, with downcast eyes, listening to the
words of the padre; or, if by chance she let flash a side-glance, it was
suddenly checked and her eyes once more cast to the ground.
The good padre looked benignantly on the company about the fountain, and
took his seat with some emphasis on a stone bench, while the handmaid
hastened to bring him a glass of sparkling water. He sipped it
deliberately and with a relish, tempering it with one of those spongy
pieces of frosted eggs and sugar so dear to Spanish epicures, and on
returning the glass to the hand of the damsel pinched her cheek with
infinite loving-kindness.
“Ah, the good pastor!” whispered the student to himself; “what a
happiness would it be to be gathered into his fold with such a pet-lamb
for a companion.”
But no such good fare was likely to befall him. In vain he essayed those
powers of pleasing which he had found so irresistible with country
curates and country lasses. Never had he touched his guitar with such
skill; never had he poured forth more soul-moving ditties, but he had no
longer a country curate or country lass to deal with. The worthy priest
evidently did not relish music, and the modest damsel never raised her
eyes from the ground. They remained but a short time at the fountain;
the good padre hastened their return to Granada. The damsel gave the
student one shy glance in retiring; but it plucked the heart out of his
bosom!
He inquired about them after they had gone. Padre Tomás was one of the
saints of Granada, a model of regularity; punctual in his hour of
rising; his hour of taking a paseo for an appetite; his hours of eating;
his hour of taking his siesta; his hour of playing his game of tresillo,
of an evening, with some of the dames of the Cathedral circle; his hour
of supping, and his hour of retiring to rest, to gather fresh strength
for another day’s round of similar duties. He had an easy sleek mule for
his riding; a matronly housekeeper skilled in preparing tit-bits for his
table; and the pet-lamb, to smooth his pillow at night and bring him his
chocolate in the morning.
Adieu now to the gay, thoughtless life of the student; the side-glance
of a bright eye had been the undoing of him. Day and night he could not
get the image of this most modest damsel out of his mind. He sought the
mansion of the padre. Alas! it was above the class of houses accessible
to a strolling student like himself. The worthy padre had no sympathy
with him; he had never been _Estudiante sopista_, obliged to sing for
his supper. He blockaded the house by day, catching a glance of the
damsel now and then as she appeared at a casement; but these glances
only fed his flame without encouraging his hope. He serenaded her
balcony at night, and at one time was flattered by the appearance of
something white at a window. Alas, it was only the night-cap of the
padre.
Never was lover more devoted; never damsel more shy: the poor student
was reduced to despair. At length arrived the eve of St. John, when the
lower classes of Granada swarm into the country, dance away the
afternoon, and pass midsummer’s night on the banks of the Darro and the
Xenil. Happy are they who on this eventful night can wash their faces in
those waters just as the Cathedral bell tells midnight; for at that
precise moment they have a beautifying power. The student, having
nothing to do, suffered himself to be carried away by the
holiday-seeking throng until he found himself in the narrow valley of
the Darro, below the lofty hill and ruddy towers of the Alhambra. The
dry bed of the river; the rocks which border it; the terraced gardens
which overhang it were alive with variegated groups, dancing under the
vines and fig-trees to the sound of the guitar and castanets.
The student remained for some time in doleful dumps, leaning against one
of the huge misshapen stone pomegranates which adorn the ends of the
little bridge over the Darro. He cast a wistful glance upon the merry
scene, where every cavalier had his dame; or, to speak more
appropriately, every Jack his Jill; sighed at his own solitary state, a
victim to the black eye of the most unapproachable of damsels, and
repined at his ragged garb, which seemed to shut the gate of hope
against him.
By degrees his attention was attracted to a neighbor equally solitary
with himself. This was a tall soldier, of a stern aspect and grizzled
beard, who seemed posted as a sentry at the opposite pomegranate. His
face was bronzed by time; he was arrayed in ancient Spanish armor, with
buckler and lance, and stood immovable as a statue. What surprised the
student was, that though thus strangely equipped, he was totally
unnoticed by the passing throng, albeit that many almost brushed against
him.
“This is a city of old time peculiarities,” thought the student, “and
doubtless this is one of them with which the inhabitants are too
familiar to be surprised.” His own curiosity, however, was awakened, and
being of a social disposition, he accosted the soldier.
“A rare old suit of armor that which you wear, comrade. May I ask what
corps you belong to?”
The soldier gasped out a reply from a pair of jaws which seemed to have
rusted on their hinges.
“The royal guard of Ferdinand and Isabella.”
“Santa Maria! Why, it is three centuries since that corps was in
service.”
“And for three centuries have I been mounting guard. Now I trust my tour
of duty draws to a close. Dost thou desire fortune?”
The student held up his tattered cloak in reply.
“I understand thee. If thou hast faith and courage, follow me, and thy
fortune is made.”
“Softly, comrade, to follow thee would require small courage in one who
has nothing to lose but life and an old guitar, neither of much value;
but my faith is of a different matter, and not to be put in temptation.
If it be any criminal act by which I am to mend my fortune, think not my
ragged cloak will make me undertake it.”
The soldier turned on him a look of high displeasure. “My sword,” said
he, “has never been drawn but in the cause of the faith and the throne.
I am a _Cristiano viejo_; trust in me and fear no evil.”
The student followed him wondering. He observed that no one heeded their
conversation, and that the soldier made his way through the various
groups of idlers unnoticed, as if invisible.
Crossing the bridge, the soldier led the way by a narrow and steep path
past a Moorish mill and aqueduct, and up the ravine which separates the
domains of the Generalife from those of the Alhambra. The last ray of
the sun shone upon the red battlements of the latter, which beetled far
above; and the convent-bells were proclaiming the festival of the
ensuing day. The ravine was overshadowed by fig-trees, vines, and
myrtles, and the outer towers and walls of the fortress. It was dark and
lonely, and the twilight-loving bats began to flit about. At length the
soldier halted at a remote and ruined tower, apparently intended to
guard a Moorish aqueduct. He struck the foundation with the but-end of
his spear. A rumbling sound was heard, and the solid stones yawned
apart, leaving an opening as wide as a door.
“Enter in the name of the Holy Trinity,” said the soldier, “and fear
nothing.” The student’s heart quaked, but he made the sign of the cross,
muttered his Ave Maria, and followed his mysterious guide into a deep
vault cut out of the solid rock under the tower, and covered with Arabic
inscriptions. The soldier pointed to a stone seat hewn along one side of
the vault. “Behold,” said he, “my couch for three hundred years.” The
bewildered student tried to force a joke. “By the blessed St. Anthony,”
said he, “but you must have slept soundly, considering the hardness of
your couch.”
“On the contrary, sleep has been a stranger to these eyes; incessant
watchfulness has been my doom. Listen to my lot. I was one of the royal
guards of Ferdinand and Isabella; but was taken prisoner by the Moors in
one of their sorties, and confined a captive in this tower. When
preparations were made to surrender the fortress to the Christian
sovereigns, I was prevailed upon by an Alfaqui, a Moorish priest, to aid
him in secreting some of the treasures of Boabdil in this vault. I was
justly punished for my fault. The Alfaqui was an African necromancer,
and by his infernal arts cast a spell upon me--to guard his treasures.
Something must have happened to him, for he never returned, and here
have I remained ever since, buried alive. Years and years have rolled
away; earthquakes have shaken this hill; I have heard stone by stone of
the tower above tumbling to the ground, in the natural operation of
time; but the spell-bound walls of this vault set both time and
earthquakes at defiance.
“Once every hundred years, on the festival of St. John, the enchantment
ceases to have thorough sway; I am permitted to go forth and post myself
upon the bridge of the Darro, where you met me, waiting until some one
shall arrive who may have power to break this magic spell. I have
hitherto mounted guard there in vain. I walk as in a cloud, concealed
from mortal sight. You are the first to accost me for now three hundred
years. I behold the reason. I see on your finger the seal-ring of
Solomon the Wise, which is proof against all enchantment. With you it
remains to deliver me from this awful dungeon, or to leave me to keep
guard here for another hundred years.”
The student listened to this tale in mute wonderment. He had heard many
tales of treasures shut up under strong enchantment in the vaults of the
Alhambra, but had treated them as fables. He now felt the value of the
seal-ring, which had, in a manner, been given to him by St. Cyprian.
Still, though armed by so potent a talisman, it was an awful thing to
find himself _tête-à-tête_ in such a place with an enchanted soldier,
who, according to the laws of nature, ought to have been quietly in his
grave for nearly three centuries.
A personage of this kind, however, was quite out of the ordinary run,
and not to be trifled with, and he assured him he might rely upon his
friendship and good will to do everything in his power for his
deliverance.
“I trust to a motive more powerful than friendship,” said the soldier.
He pointed to a ponderous iron coffer, secured by locks inscribed with
Arabic characters. “That coffer,” said he, “contains countless treasure
in gold and jewels and precious stones. Break the magic spell by which I
am enthralled, and one half of this treasure shall be thine.”
“But how am I to do it?”
“The aid of a Christian priest and a Christian maid is necessary. The
priest to exorcise the powers of darkness; the damsel to touch this
chest with the seal of Solomon. This must be done at night. But have a
care. This is solemn work, and not to be effected by the carnal-minded.
The priest must be a _Cristiano viejo_, a model of sanctity; and must
mortify the flesh before he comes here, by a rigorous fast of
four-and-twenty hours: and as to the maiden, she must be above reproach,
and proof against temptation. Linger not in finding such aid. In three
days my furlough is at an end; if not delivered before midnight of the
third, I shall have to mount guard for another century.”
“Fear not,” said the student, “I have in my eye the very priest and
damsel you describe; but how am I to regain admission to this tower?”
“The seal of Solomon will open the way for thee.”
The student issued forth from the tower much more gayly than he had
entered. The wall closed behind him, and remained solid as before.
The next morning he repaired boldly to the mansion of the priest, no
longer a poor strolling student, thrumming his way with a guitar; but an
ambassador from the shadowy world, with enchanted treasures to bestow.
No particulars are told of his negotiation, excepting that the zeal of
the worthy priest was easily kindled at the idea of rescuing an old
soldier of the faith and a strong box of King Chico from the very
clutches of Satan; and then what alms might be dispensed, what churches
built, and how many poor relatives enriched with the Moorish treasure!
As to the immaculate handmaid, she was ready to lend her hand, which was
all that was required, to the pious work; and if a shy glance now and
then might be believed, the ambassador began to find favor in her modest
eyes.
The greatest difficulty, however, was the fast to which the good padre
had to subject himself. Twice he attempted it, and twice the flesh was
too strong for the spirit. It was only on the third day that he was
enabled to withstand the temptations of the cupboard; but it was still a
question whether he would hold out until the spell was broken.
At a late hour of the night the party groped their way up the ravine by
the light of a lantern, and bearing a basket with provisions for
exorcising the demon of hunger so soon as the other demons should be
laid in the Red Sea.
The seal of Solomon opened their way into the tower. They found the
soldier seated on the enchanted strong box, awaiting their arrival. The
exorcism was performed in due style. The damsel advanced and touched the
locks of the coffer with the seal of Solomon. The lid flew open; and
such treasures of gold and jewels and precious stones as flashed upon
the eye!
“Here’s cut and come again!” cried the student, exultingly, as he
proceeded to cram his pockets.
“Fairly and softly,” exclaimed the soldier. “Let us get the coffer out
entire, and then divide.”
They accordingly went to work with might and main; but it was a
difficult task; the chest was enormously heavy, and had been embedded
there for centuries. While they were thus employed the good dominie drew
on one side and made a vigorous onslaught on the basket, by way of
exorcising the demon of hunger which was raging in his entrails. In a
little while a fat capon was devoured, and washed down by a deep
potation of Val de peñas; and, by way of grace after meat, he gave a
kind-hearted kiss to the pet-lamb who waited on him. It was quietly done
in a corner, but the tell-tale walls babbled it forth as if in triumph.
Never was chaste salute more awful in its effects. At the sound the
soldier gave a great cry of despair; the coffer, which was half raised,
fell back in its place and was locked once more. Priest, student, and
damsel found themselves outside of the tower, the wall of which closed
with a thundering jar. Alas! the good padre had broken his fast too
soon!
When recovered from his surprise, the student would have reëntered the
tower, but learnt to his dismay that the damsel, in her fright, had let
fall the seal of Solomon; it remained within the vault.
In a word, the cathedral-bell tolled midnight; the spell was renewed;
the soldier was doomed to mount guard for another hundred years, and
there he and the treasure remain to this day--and all because the
kind-hearted padre kissed his housemaid. “Ah father! father!” said the
student, shaking his head ruefully, as they returned down the ravine, “I
fear there was less of the saint than the sinner in that kiss!”
Thus ends the legend as far as it has been authenticated. There is a
tradition, however, that the student had brought off treasure enough in
his pocket to set him up in the world; that he prospered in his affairs,
that the worthy padre gave him the pet-lamb in marriage, by way of
amends for the blunder in the vault; that the immaculate damsel proved a
pattern for wives as she had been for handmaids, and bore her husband a
numerous progeny; that the first was a wonder; it was born seven months
after her marriage, and though a seven-months’ boy, was the sturdiest of
the flock. The rest were all born in the ordinary course of time.
The story of the enchanted soldier remains one of the popular traditions
of Granada, though told in a variety of ways; the common people affirm
that he still mounts guard on mid-summer eve, beside the gigantic stone
pomegranate on the Bridge of the Darro; but remains invisible excepting
to such lucky mortal as may possess the seal of Solomon.
NOTES TO THE ENCHANTED SOLDIER
Among the ancient superstitions of Spain, were those of the
existence of profound caverns in which the magic arts were taught,
either by the devil in person, or some sage devoted to his service.
One of the most famous of these caves was at Salamanca. Don
Francisco de Torreblanca makes mention of it in the first book of
his work on magic, C. 2, No. 4. The devil was said to play the part
of Oracle there; giving replies to those who repaired thither to
propound fateful questions, as in the celebrated cave of
Trophonius. Don Francisco, though he records this story, does not
put faith in it: he gives it however as certain, that a Sacristan,
named Clement Potosi, taught secretly the magic arts in that cave.
Padre Feyjoo, who inquired into the matter, reports it as a vulgar
belief, that the devil himself taught those arts there; admitting
only seven disciples at a time, one of whom, to be determined by
lot, was to be devoted to him body and soul forever. Among one of
these sets of students was a young man, son of the Marquis de
Villena, on whom, after having accomplished his studies, the lot
fell. He succeeded, however, in cheating the devil, leaving him his
shadow instead of his body.
Don Juan de Dios, Professor of Humanities in the University, in the
early part of the last century, gives the following version of the
story, extracted, as he says, from an ancient manuscript. It will
be perceived he has marred the supernatural part of the tale, and
ejected the devil from it altogether.
As to the fable of the Cave of San Cyprian, says he, all that we
have been able to verify is, that where the stone cross stands, in
the small square or place called by the name of the Seminary of
Carvajal, there was the parochial church of San Cyprian. A descent
of twenty steps led down to a subterranean Sacristy, spacious and
vaulted like a cave. Here a Sacristan once taught magic, judicial
astrology, geomancy, hydromancy, pyromancy, acromancy, chiromancy,
necromancy, &c.
The extract goes on to state that seven students engaged at a time
with the Sacristan, at a fixed stipend. Lots were cast among them
which one of their number should pay for the whole, with the
understanding that he on whom the lot fell, if he did not pay
promptly, should be detained in a chamber of the Sacristy until the
funds were forthcoming. This became thenceforth the usual practice.
On one occasion the lot fell on Henry de Villena, son of the
marquis of the same name. He having perceived that there had been
trick and shuffling in the casting of the lot, and suspecting the
Sacristan to be cognizant thereof, refused to pay. He was forthwith
left in limbo. It so happened, that in a dark corner of the
Sacristy was a huge jar or earthen reservoir for water, which was
cracked and empty. In this the youth contrived to conceal himself.
The Sacristan returned at night with a servant, bringing lights and
a supper. Unlocking the door, they found no one in the vault, and a
book of magic lying open on the table. They retreated in dismay,
leaving the door open, by which Villena made his escape. The story
went about that through magic he had made himself invisible.--The
reader has now both versions of the story, and may make his choice.
I will only observe that the sages of the Alhambra incline to the
diabolical one.
This Henry de Villena flourished in the time of Juan II., King of
Castile, of whom he was uncle. He became famous for his knowledge
of the Natural Sciences; and hence, in that ignorant age was
stigmatized as a necromancer. Fernan Perez de Guzman, in his
account of distinguished men, gives him credit for great learning,
but says he devoted himself to the arts of divination, the
interpretation of dreams, of signs, and portents.
At the death of Villena, his library fell into the hands of the
King, who was warned that it contained books treating of magic, and
not proper to be read. King Juan ordered that they should be
transported in carts to the residence of a reverend prelate to be
examined. The prelate was less learned than devout. Some of the
books treated of mathematics, others of astronomy, with figures and
diagrams, and planetary signs; others of chemistry or alchemy, with
foreign and mystic words. All these were necromancy in the eyes of
the pious prelate, and the books were consigned to the flames, like
the library of Don Quixote.
THE SEAL OF SOLOMON.--The device consists of two equilateral
triangles, interlaced so as to form a star, and surrounded by a
circle. According to Arab tradition, when the Most High gave
Solomon the choice of blessings, and he chose wisdom, there came
from heaven a ring, on which this device was engraven. This mystic
talisman was the arcanum of his wisdom, felicity, and grandeur, by
this he governed and prospered. In consequence of a temporary lapse
from virtue he lost the ring in the sea, and was at once reduced to
the level of ordinary men. By penitence and prayer he made his
peace with the Deity, was permitted to find his ring again in the
belly of a fish, and thus recovered his celestial gifts. That he
might not utterly lose them again, he communicated to others the
secret of the marvellous ring.
This symbolical seal we are told was sacrilegiously used by the
Mahometan infidels; and before them by the Arabian idolaters, and
before them by the Hebrews, for “diabolical enterprises and
abominable superstitions.” Those who wish to be more thoroughly
informed on the subject, will do well to consult the learned Father
Athanasius Kirker’s treatise on the _Cabala Sarracenica_.
* * * * *
A word more to the curious reader. There are many persons in these
skeptical times who affect to deride everything connected with the
occult sciences, or black art; who have no faith in the efficacy of
conjurations, incantations, or divinations; and who stoutly contend
that such things never had existence. To such determined
unbelievers the testimony of past ages is as nothing; they require
the evidence of their own senses, and deny that such arts and
practices have prevailed in days of yore, simply because they meet
with no instance of them in the present day. They cannot perceive
that, as the world became versed in the natural sciences, the
supernatural became superfluous and fell into disuse; and that the
hardy inventions of art superseded the mysteries of man. Still, say
the enlightened few, those mystic powers exist, though in a latent
state, and untasked by the ingenuity of man. A talisman is still a
talisman, possessing all its indwelling and awful properties;
though it may have lain dormant for ages at the bottom of the sea,
or in the dusty cabinet of the antiquary.
The signet of Solomon the Wise, for instance, is well known to have
held potent control over genii, demons, and enchantments; now who
will positively assert that the same mystic signet, wherever it may
exist, does not at the present moment possess the same marvellous
virtues which distinguished it in the olden time? Let those who
doubt repair to Salamanca, delve into the cave of San Cyprian,
explore its hidden secrets, and decide. As to those who will not be
at the pains of such investigation, let them substitute faith for
incredulity, and receive with honest credence the foregoing legend.
THE AUTHOR’S FAREWELL TO GRANADA