GRANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA.
When the academy fleet arrived at Malaga, the
principal decided to follow the plan he had
adopted at Barcelona, though on a smaller scale, and
send the Josephines and Tritonias to Cadiz, while the
Princes proceeded by rail to the same place, seeing
Granada, Cordova, and Seville on the way. As soon as
the transfer could be made, the steamer sailed with its
company of tourists; and her regular crew were domiciled
at the Hotel de la Alameda, in Malaga.
“Here we are again,” said Sheridan, as the party of
the doctor came together again at the hotel.
“I feel more like looking at a cathedral than I
did when we were sight–seeing in December,” added
Murray.
“You have not many more cathedrals to see,”
replied the doctor. “There is one here; but, as this is
Saturday, we will visit it to–morrow. Suppose we take
a walk on the Alameda, as this handsome square is
called.”
It is a beautiful bit of a park, with a fountain at each
end; but it was so haunted with beggars that the tourists
could not enjoy it. It was fresh and green, and
bright with the flowers of early spring.
“What an abomination these beggars are!” exclaimed
Sheridan, as a pair of them, one with his eyes
apparently eaten out with sores, leaning on the shoulder
of another seemingly well enough, saluted them
with the usual petition. “It makes me sick to look at
them.”
Murray gave the speaker two _reales_; but they would
not go till the others had contributed. A little farther
along they came to a blind man, who had stationed
himself by a bridge, and held out his hand in silence.
“That man deserves to be encouraged for holding
his tongue,” said the captain, as he dropped a _peseta_
into the extended hand. “Most of them yell and
tease so that one don’t feel like giving.”
The blind beggar called down the blessing of the
Virgin upon the donor, in a gentle and devout tone.
But he seemed to be an exception to all the other mendicants
in Malaga. As the captain said, many of them
were most disgusting sights; and they pointed out
their ailments as though they were proud of them.
“This is a commercial city, and there is not much to
see in it,” said the doctor, as they returned to the
hotel. “Its history is but a repetition of that of nearly
all the cities of Spain. It was a place of great trade
in the time of the Moors: it is the fifth city of Spain,
ranking next to Valencia. You saw the United States
flag on quite a number of vessels in the port; and it
has a large trade with our country. Wine, raisins,
oranges, lemons, and grapes are the principal exports.”
The next day most of the students visited the cathedral,
where they heard mass, which was attended by a
battalion of soldiers, with a band which took part in
the service. Early on Monday morning the tourists
started for Granada, taking the train at quarter past
six o’clock. The ride was exceedingly interesting; for
the country between Malaga and Cordova is very fertile,
though a small portion of it is a region abounding
in the wildest scenery. The first part of the journey
was in the midst of orange–orchards and vineyards.
“What is that sort of an inclined plane?” asked
Sheridan, pointing to a stone structure like one side of
the roof of a small house. “I have noticed a great
many of them here and near Alicante.”
“You observe that they all slope to the south,”
replied the doctor. “They are used in drying raisins.
This is a grape as well as an orange country. Raisins
are dried grapes; and, when you eat your plum–pudding
in the future, you will be likely to think of the country
around Malaga, for the nicest of them come from
here.”
“This is a wild country,” said Murray, after they
had been nearly two hours on the train.
“We pass through the western end of the Sierra
Nevada range. Notice this steep rock,” added the
doctor, as they passed a lofty precipice. “It is ‘Lovers’
Rock.’”
“Of course it is,” laughed Murray; “and they
jumped down that cliff; and there is not a precipice
in the world that isn’t a lovers’ leap.”
“I think you are right. In this case it was a Spanish
knight, and a Moorish maiden whose father didn’t like
the match.”
The travellers left the train at Bobadilla, and proceeded
by rail to Archidona. Between this place and
Loxa the railroad was not then built; and the distance—about
sixteen miles—had to be accomplished by
diligence. Half a dozen of these lumbering vehicles
were in readiness, with their miscellaneous teams of
horses and mules all hitched on in long strings. This
part of the journey was likely to be a lark to the
students; and they piled into and upon the carriages
with great good–nature. The doctor and his pupils
secured seats on the outside.
“This is the _coupé_ in Spain, but it is the _banquette_ in
Switzerland,” said he, when they were seated. “It is
called the dickey in England.”
“But the box for three passengers, with windows in
the front of the diligence, is always the _coupé_,” added
Sheridan.
“Not in Spain: that is called the _berlina_ here. The
middle compartment, holding four or six, is _el interior_;
and _la rotundo_, in the rear, like an omnibus, holds six.
The last is used by the common people because it is
the cheapest.”
“But this seat is not long enough for four,” protested
Murray, when the conductor directed another officer to
mount the _coupé_”.
“Come up, commodore: I think we can make room
for you,” added Sheridan.
“This is a long team,” said Commodore Cantwell,
when they were seated,—“ten mules and horses.”
“I have travelled with sixteen,” added the doctor.
On a seat wide enough for two, under the windows
of the _berlina_, the driver took his place. His reins
were a couple of ropes reaching to the outside ends of
the bits of the wheel–horses. He was more properly
the brakeman, since he had little to do with the team,
except to yell at the animals. On the nigh horse or
mule, as he happened to be, rode a young man who
conducted the procession. He is called the _delantero_.
The _zagal_ is a fellow who runs at the side of the
animals, and whips them up with a long stick. The
_mayoral_ is the conductor, who is sometimes the driver;
but in this case he seemed to have the charge of all
the diligences.
“Oja! oja!” (o–ha) yelled the driver. The _zagal_
began to hammer the brutes most unmercifully, and the
team started at a lively pace.
“That’s too bad!” exclaimed Sheridan, when he saw
the _zagal_ pounding the mules over the backbone with
his club, which was big enough to serve for a bean–pole.
“I agree with you, captain, but we can’t help ourselves,”
added the doctor. “That villain will keep it
up till we get to the end of our journey.”
The _dilijencia_ passed out of the town, and went
through a wild country with no signs of any inhabitants.
The road was as bad as a road could be, and
was nothing but a track beaten over the fields, passing
over rocks and through gullies and pools of water.
Carts, drawn by long strings of mules or donkeys,
driven by a peasant with a gun over his shoulder, were
occasionally met; but the road was very lonely. Half
way to Loxa they came to a river, over which was a
narrow bridge for pedestrians; but the _dilijencia_ had
to ford the stream.
At this point the horses and mules were changed;
and some of the students went over the bridge, and
walked till they were overtaken by the coaches. At
three o’clock they drove into Loxa. The streets of
the town are very steep and very narrow; and the _zagal_
had to crowd the team over to the opposite side, in
order to get the vehicle around the corners. The
students on the outside could have jumped into the
windows of the houses on either side, and people on
the ground often had to dodge into the doorways, to
keep from being run over. From this place the party
proceeded to Granada by railroad. Crossing a part of
this city, which is a filthy hole, the party went to the
Hotel Washington Irving, and the Hotel Siete Suelos,
both of which are at the very gate of the Alhambra.
The doctor and his friends were quartered at the
former hotel, which is a very good one, but more expensive
than the _Siete Suelos_ on the other side of the
street. They are both in the gardens of the Alhambra,
the avenues of which are studded with noble elms, the
gift of the Duke of Wellington.
“And this is the Alhambra,” said Capt. Sheridan, as
the trio came out for a walk, after dinner.
“What is the meaning of the name of that hotel?”
“_Hotel de los Siete Suelos_,—the hotel of the seven
stories, or floors.”
“But it hasn’t more than four or five.”
“Haven’t you read Irving’s Alhambra? He mentions
a tower with this name, in which was the gate
where Boabdil left the Alhambra for the last time. It
was walled up at the request of the Moor.”
The party walked about the gardens till it was dark.
The next morning, before the ship’s company were
ready, the doctor and the three highest officers entered
the walled enclosure.
“This is the Tower of Justice,” said the doctor, as
they paused at the entrance. “It is so called because
the Moorish kings administered the law to the people
here. You see the hand and the key carved over the
door. If you ask the grandson of Mateo Ximenes,
who is a guide here, what it means, he will tell you
the Moors believed that, when this hand reached
down and took the key, the Alhambra might be captured;
but not till then. Then he will tell you that
they were mistaken; and give glory to the Spaniards.
The key was the Moslem symbol for wisdom and
knowledge; and the hand, of the five great commandments
of their religion.”
The party entered the tower, in which is an altar,
and passed into the square of the cisterns. Charles V.
began to build a huge palace on one side of it; but
the fear of earthquakes induced him to desist. He
destroyed a portion of the Moorish palace to make
room for it. The visitors entered an office where they
registered their names, paid a couple of _pesetas_, and
received a plan of the palace. The first names in the
book are those of Washington Irving and his Russian
companion.
“This is the Court of the Myrtles,” said the doctor,
as they entered the first and largest court of the
palace. “It is also called ‘the Court of Blessing,’
because the Moors believed water was a blessing; and
this pond contains a good deal of it.”
“My guide–book does not call it by either of these
names,” said Commodore Cantwell, who had Harper’s
Guide in his hand. “It says here it is ‘the _Patio de la
Alberca_,’ or fish–pond.”
“And so says Mr. Ford, who is the best authority on
Spain. We must not try to reconcile the differences in
guide–books. We had better call it after the myrtles
that surround the tank, and let it go at that. This
court is the largest of the palace, though it is only one
hundred and forty by seventy–five feet. But the Alhambra
is noted for its beauty, and not for its size. We
will now pass into the Court of the Lions,” continued
the doctor, leading the way. “This is the most celebrated,
as it is the most beautiful, part of the palace.”
“I have seen many pictures of it, but I supposed it
was ten times as large as it is,” said Sheridan.
“It is about one hundred and twenty by seventy feet.
There are one hundred and twenty–four columns around
the court. Now we must stop and look at the wonderful
architecture and exquisite workmanship. Look at
these graceful arches, and examine that sort of lace–work
in the ceilings and walls.”
While they were thus occupied, the ship’s company
came into the court, and the principal called them
together to hear Professor Mapps on the history of
the Alhambra.
“In 1238 Ibnu–I–Ahamar founded the kingdom of Granada, and he built the
Alhambra for his palace and fortress. In Arabic it was _Kasr–Alhamra_,
or Red Castle; and from this comes the present name. The Vermilion
Tower was a part of the original fortress. Under this monarch, whose
title was Mohammed I., Granada became very prosperous and powerful.
When the Christians captured Valencia, the Moors fled to Granada, and
fifty thousand were added to the population of the kingdom; and it
is estimated that a million more came when Seville and Cordova were
conquered by the Castilians. The work of this king was continued by his
successors; and the Alhambra was finished in 1333 by Yosuf I. He built
the Gate of Judgment, Justice, or Law, as it is variously called, and
the principal parts of the palace around you. The city was in its glory
then, and is said to have had half a million inhabitants. But family
quarrels came into the house of the monarch, here in the Alhambra; and
this was the beginning of the decline of the Moorish power.
“Abul–Hassan had two wives. One of them was Ayesha; and the other was
a very beautiful Christian lady called Zoraya, or the Morning Star.
Ayesha was exceedingly jealous of the other; and fearing that the son of
the Morning Star, instead of her own, might succeed to the crown, she
organized a powerful faction. On Zoraya’s side were the Beni–Serraj,
whom the Spaniards called the Abencerrages. They were the descendants
of a vizier of the King of Cordova,—Abou–Serraj. Abou–Abdallah was the
eldest son of Ayesha; and in 1482 he dethroned his father. The name
of this prince became Boabdil with the Spaniards; and so he is called
in Mr. Irving’s works. As soon as he came into power, his mother, and
the Zegris who had assisted her, persuaded him to retaliate upon the
Abencerrages for the support they had given to Zoraya. Under a deceitful
plea, he gathered them together in this palace, where the Zegris were
waiting for them. One by one they were called into one of these courts,
and treacherously murdered. Thus was Granada deprived of its bravest
defenders; and the Moors were filled with indignation and contempt for
their king. While they were quarrelling among themselves, Ferdinand and
Isabella advanced upon Granada. They had captured all the towns and
strong fortresses; and there was nothing more to stay their progress.
For nine months the sovereigns besieged the city before it fell. It was
a sad day for the Moors when the victors marched into the town. There
is a great deal of poetry and romance connected with this palace and
the Moslems who were driven out of it. You should read Mr. Lockhart’s
translation of the poems on these subjects, and the works of Prescott
and Irving.”
When the professor had completed his account, the
doctor’s party passed in to the right, entering one of
the apartments which surround the court on three of its
sides.
“That’s as mean a lot of lions as I ever saw,” said
Murray, who had lingered at the fountain which gives
its name to the court.
“The sculpture of the lions is certainly very poor;
but we can’t have every thing,” replied the doctor.
“This is the Hall of the Abencerrages; and it gets its
name from the story Mr. Mapps has just told you.
Some say these nobles were slain in this room; and
others, that they were beheaded near the fountain in
the court, where the guides point out a dark spot as the
stain of blood. You must closely examine the work in
this little room if you wish to appreciate it.”
They returned to the Court of the Lions, and, crossing
it, entered the Hall of the Two Sisters. The students
expected to hear some romance told of these
two ladies; but they proved to be two vast slabs in
the floor. This room and that of the Abencerrages
were probably the sleeping apartments of the monarch’s
family; and several small chambers, used for baths and
other purposes, are connected with them. On each
side of them are raised platforms for the couches. At
the farther end of the court is the council–hall of justice.
It is long and narrow, seventy–five by sixteen feet; and
is very elaborately ornamented.
At the northern end of the Court of Myrtles, is the
Hall of Ambassadors, which occupies the ground floor
of the Tower of Comares. It is the largest apartment
of the palace, seventy–five by thirty–seven feet. This
was the throne–room, or hall of audience, of the monarchs.
The doctor again insisted that his pupils should
scrutinize the work; and he called their attention to the
horseshoe arches and various other forms and shapes,
to the curious niches and alcoves, to the delicate coloring
in the ceilings and on the walls, and to the interlacing
designs, in the portions of the palace they visited.
They had now seen the principal apartments on the
ground floor; and they ascended to the towers, the open
galleries of which are a peculiarity in the construction
of the edifice. They were shown the rooms occupied
by Washington Irving when he “succeeded to Boabdil,”
and became an inhabitant of the Alhambra; but the
Alhambra is a thing to be seen, and not described.
They visited the Royal Chapel, the fortress, and for
two days they were busy as bees, though one day was
enough to satisfy most of the students.
On the third day of their sojourn at the Alhambra,
the doctor’s party visited the Generalife. The name
means “The Garden of the Architect,” who was probably
an employee of the king; but the palace was purchased
and used as a pleasure–house by one of the
kings. The sword of Boabdil is shown here. The
gardens, which are about all the visitor sees, are more
quaint than beautiful. The walks are hedged in with
box, and the cypress–trees are trimmed in square
blocks, as in the gardens of Versailles. Passing
through these, the visitor ascends a tower on a hill,
which commands a magnificent view of Granada and
the surrounding country.
The abundance of water in and around the Alhambra
attracts the attention of the tourist. The walks
have a stream trickling down the hill on each side. It
comes from the snow–crowned Sierra Nevadas; and, the
warmer the weather, the faster do the ice and snow
melt, and the greater is the flow of the water. In the
Alhambra and in the Generalife these streams of water
are to be met at almost every point.
One day was given to the city of Granada, though
the visitor cares but little for any thing but the Alhambra.
Without mentioning what may be seen in the
cathedral in detail, there is one sight there which is
almost worth the pilgrimage to the city; and that is the
tomb of Ferdinand and Isabella. Dr. Winstock ordered
a carriage for the purpose of taking his charge
to the church.
When the team appeared at the door of the hotel,
the students were very much amused at its singular
character; for it was a very handsome carriage, but it
was drawn by mules. The harness was quite elaborate
and elegant; yet to be drawn by these miserable mules
seemed to some of the party to be almost a disgrace.
But the doctor said that they had been highly honored,
since they had been supplied with what was doubtless
the finest turnout to be had. These mules were very
large and handsome for their kind, and cost more
money than the finest horses. After this explanation,
they were satisfied to ride behind a pair of mules.
There are plenty of pictures and sculptures in the
cathedral; but the party hastened to the royal chapel
built by order of the sovereigns, which became their
burial–place. The mausoleum is magnificent beyond
description. It consists of two alabaster sepulchres in
the centre of the chapel, on one of which are the forms
of Ferdinand and Isabella, and on the other those of
Crazy Jane and Philip, the parents of Charles V. But
the lion of the place, to the students, was the vault
below the chapel, to which they were conducted, down
a narrow staircase of stone, by the attendant. On a
low dais in the middle of the tomb were two very ordinary
coffins, not differing from those in use in New
England, except that they were strapped with iron
bands.
“This one, marked ‘F,’ contains the remains of Ferdinand,”
said the doctor, in a low tone. “The other
has an ‘I’ upon it, and holds all that time has left of
the mortal part of Isabella, whose patronage enabled
Columbus to discover the New World.”
“Is it possible that the remains of Ferdinand and
Isabella are in those coffins?” exclaimed Sheridan.
“There is not a doubt of the fact. Eight years ago
the late queen of Spain visited Granada, and caused
mass to be said for the souls of these sovereigns at the
same altar used by them at the taking of the city.
Some of the guides will tell you that these coffins
were opened at this time, and the remains of the king
and queen were found to be in an excellent state of
preservation. I don’t know whether the statement is
true or not.”
“Here are two other coffins just like them,” said
Murray, as he turned to a sort of shelf that extended
across the sides of the vault.
“They contain the remains of Crazy Jane and Philip
her husband, both of whose effigies are introduced in
the sculpture on the monuments in the chapel above,”
replied the doctor. “The coffin of Philip is the very
one that she carried about everywhere she went, and
so often embraced in the transports of her grief. She
is at rest now.”
Deeply impressed by what they had seen in the
vault, which made the distant past more real to the
young men, they returned to the chapel above. In
the sacristy they saw the sword of Ferdinand, a very
plain weapon, and his sceptre; but more interesting
were the crown of silver gilt worn by Isabella, her
prayer–book, and the chasuble, or priest’s vestment,
embroidered by her.
The party next visited the Carthusian Monastery,
just out of the city, which contains some exquisite
marble–work and curious old frescos. On their return
to the Alhambra, they gave some attention to the gypsies,
who are a prominent feature of Granada, where
they are colonized in greater numbers than at any other
place in Spain, though they also abound in the vicinity
of Seville. They live by themselves, on the side of
a hill, outside of the city. The tourists crossed the
Darro, which flows at the foot of the hill on which the
Alhambra and Generalife stand. They found the gypsies
lolling about in the sun, hardly disturbed by the
advent of the visitors. They seem to lead a vagabond
life at home as well as abroad. They were of an olive
complexion, very dirty, and very indolent. Some of the
young girls were pretty, but most of the women were
as disagreeable as possible. The men work at various
trades; but the reputation of all of them for honesty
is bad. They do not live in houses, but in caverns in
the rocks of which the hill is composed. They are not
natural caverns, but are excavated for dwellings.
The doctor led the party into one of them. It was
lighted only by the door; but there was a hole in the
top for the escape of the smoke. There was a bed in
a corner, under which reposed three pigs, while a lot
of hens were picking up crumbs thrown to them by
a couple of half–naked children. It was the proper
habitation of the pigs, rather than the human beings.
The onslaughts of the beggars were so savage that the
visitors were compelled to beat a hasty retreat. The
women teased the surgeon to enter their grottos in
order to get the fee.
In the evening some British officers from “Gib,” as
they always call the great fortress, had a gypsy dance
at the _Siete Suelos_. The doctor and his pupils were
invited to attend. There were two men dressed in full
Spanish costume, and three girls, also in costume, one
of whom was quite pretty. One of the men was the
captain of the gypsies, and played the guitar with marvellous
skill, an exhibition of which he gave the party.
There was nothing graceful about the dancing: it was
simply peculiar, with a curious jerking of the hips. At
times the dancers indulged in a wild song. When the
show was finished, the gypsy girls made an energetic
demonstration on the audience for money, and must
have collected a considerable sum from the officers, for
they used all the arts of the coquette.
Just at dark a small funeral procession passed the
hotel. It was preceded by half a dozen men bearing
great candles lighted. The coffin was borne on the
shoulders of four more, and was highly ornamented.
The funeral party were singing or chanting, but so
irreverently that the whole affair seemed more like a
frolic than a funeral.
“That is a gay–looking coffin,” said Murray to
Mariano Ramos, the best guide and courier in Spain,
who had been in the employ of the principal since the
squadron arrived at Malaga.
“That is all for show,” laughed Mariano. “The
men will bring it back with them.”
“Don’t they bury the dead man in it?”
“No: that would make it too expensive for poor
folks. They tumble the dead into a rough box, or
bury him without any thing.”
The next morning the excursionists started for Cordova,
and arrived late at night, going by the same route
they had taken to Granada as far as Bobadilla.