armed, and followed on foot by an _escopetero_ or musketeer. He saluted
us courteously, and soon let us into his quality. He was chief of the
customs, or rather, I should suppose, chief of an armed company whose
business it is to patrol the roads and look out for _contrabandistas_. The
_escopetero_ was one of his guards. In the course of our morning's ride I
drew from him some particulars concerning the smugglers, who have risen to
be a kind of mongrel chivalry in Spain. They come into Andalusia, he said,
from various parts, but especially from La Mancha; sometimes to receive
goods, to be smuggled on an appointed night across the line at the _plaza_
or strand of Gibraltar; sometimes to meet a vessel, which is to hover on a
given night off a certain part of the coast. They keep together and travel
in the night. In the daytime they lie quiet in _barrancos_, gullies of the
mountains, or lonely farmhouses; where they are generally well received,
as they make the family liberal presents of their smuggled wares. Indeed,
much of the finery and trinkets worn by the wives and daughters of the
mountain hamlets and farm-houses are presents from the gay and open-handed
_contrabandistas_.
Arrived at the part of the coast where a vessel is to meet them, they look
out at night from some rocky point or headland. If they descry a sail
near the shore they make a concerted signal; sometimes it consists in
suddenly displaying a lantern three times from beneath the folds of the
cloak. If the signal is answered, they descend to the shore and prepare
for quick work. The vessel runs close in; all her boats are busy landing
the smuggled goods, made up into snug packages for transportation on
horseback. These are hastily thrown on the beach, as hastily gathered up
and packed on the horses, and then the _contrabandistas_ clatter off to
the mountains. They travel by the roughest, wildest, and most solitary
roads, where it is almost fruitless to pursue them. The custom-house
guards do not attempt it: they take a different course. When they hear
of one of these bands returning full freighted through the mountains,
they go out in force, sometimes twelve infantry and eight horsemen, and
take their station where the mountain defile opens into the plain. The
infantry, who lie in ambush some distance within the defile, suffer the
band to pass, then rise and fire upon them. The _contrabandistas_ dash
forward, but are met in front by the horsemen. A wild skirmish ensues.
The _contrabandistas_, if hard pressed, become desperate. Some dismount,
use their horses as breastworks, and fire over their backs; others cut
the cords, let the packs fall off to delay the enemy, and endeavour
to escape with their steeds. Some get off in this way with the loss of
their packages; some are taken, horses, packages, and all; others abandon
everything, and make their escape by scrambling up the mountains. "And
then," cried Sancho, who had been listening with a greedy ear, "_se hacen
ladrones legitimos_,"--and then they become legitimate robbers.
[Illustration]
I could not help laughing at Sancho's idea of a legitimate calling of
the kind; but the chief of customs told me it was really the case that
the smugglers, when thus reduced to extremity, thought they had a kind
of right to take to the road, and lay travellers under contribution,
until they had collected funds enough to mount and equip themselves in
_contrabandista_ style.
Towards noon our wayfaring companion took leave of us and turned up a
steep defile, followed by his _escopetero_; and shortly afterwards we
emerged from the mountains, and entered upon the far-famed _vega_ of
Granada.
Our last mid-day's repast was taken under a grove of olive-trees on the
border of a rivulet. We were in a classical neighbourhood; for not far
off were the groves and orchards of the Soto de Roma. This, according to
fabulous tradition, was a retreat founded by Count Julian to console his
daughter Florinda. It was a rural resort of the Moorish kings of Granada;
and has in modern times been granted to the Duke of Wellington.
[Illustration]
Our worthy squire made a half melancholy face as he drew forth, for the
last time, the contents of his _alforjas_, lamenting that our expedition
was drawing to a close, for, with such cavaliers, he said, he could travel
to the world's end. Our repast, however, was a gay one; made under such
delightful auspices. The day was without a cloud. The heat of the sun
was tempered by cool breezes from the mountains. Before us extended the
glorious _vega_. In the distance was romantic Granada surmounted by the
ruddy towers of the Alhambra, while far above it the snowy summits of the
Sierra Nevada shone like silver.
Our repast finished, we spread our cloaks and took our last siesta _al
fresco_, lulled by the humming of bees among the flowers and the notes
of doves among the olive-trees. When the sultry hours were passed we
resumed our journey. After a time we overtook a pursy little man, shaped
not unlike a toad and mounted on a mule. He fell into conversation with
Sancho, and finding we were strangers, undertook to guide us to a good
_posada_. He was an _escribano_ (notary), he said, and knew the city as
thoroughly as his own pocket. "_Ah Dios, Señores!_ what a city you are
going to see. Such streets! such squares! such palaces! and then the
women--ah, _Santa Maria purisima_--what women!" "But the _posada_ you talk
of," said I, "are you sure it is a good one?"
[Illustration]
"Good! _Santa Maria!_ the best in Granada, _Salones grandes--camas de
luxo--colchones de pluma_ (grand saloons--luxurious sleeping-rooms--beds
of down). Ah, _Señores_, you will fare like King Chico in the Alhambra."
"And how will my horses fare?" cried Sancho.
"Like King Chico's horses. _Chocolate con leche y bollos para almuerza_"
(chocolate and milk with sugar cakes for breakfast), giving the squire a
knowing wink and a leer.
After such satisfactory accounts, nothing more was to be desired on that
head. So we rode quietly on, the squab little notary taking the lead, and
turning to us every moment with some fresh exclamation about the grandeurs
of Granada and the famous times we were to have at the _posada_.
[Illustration]
Thus escorted, we passed between hedges of aloes and Indian figs, and
through that wilderness of gardens with which the _vega_ is embroidered,
and arrived about sunset at the gates of the city. Our officious little
conductor conveyed us up one street and down another, until he rode
into the court-yard of an inn where he appeared to be perfectly at home.
Summoning the landlord by his Christian name, he committed us to his care
as two _cavalleros de mucho valor_, worthy of his best apartments and most
sumptuous fare. We were instantly reminded of the patronising stranger
who introduced Gil Blas with such a flourish of trumpets to the host
and hostess of the inn at Pennaflor, ordering trouts for his supper, and
eating voraciously at his expense. "You know not what you possess," cried
he to the innkeeper and his wife. "You have a treasure in your house.
Behold in this young gentleman the eighth wonder of the world--nothing in
this house is too good for Señor Gil Blas of Santillane, who deserves to
be entertained like a prince."
Determined that the little notary should not eat trouts at our expense,
like his prototype of Pennaflor, we forbore to ask him to supper; nor
had we reason to reproach ourselves with ingratitude, for we found before
morning the little varlet, who was no doubt a good friend of the landlord,
had decoyed us into one of the shabbiest _posadas_ in Granada.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTE:
[1] It may be as well to note here, that the _alforjas_ are square
pockets at each end of a long cloth about a foot and a half
wide, formed by turning up its extremities. The cloth is then
thrown over the saddle, and the pockets hang on each side like
saddle-bags. It is an Arab invention. The _bota_ is a leathern bag
or bottle, of portly dimensions, with a narrow neck. It is also
Oriental. Hence the scriptural caution which perplexed me in my
boyhood, not to put new wine into old bottles.
[Illustration: _Piedralga Cassla._]
PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA
[Illustration]
To the traveller imbued with a feeling for the historical and poetical,
so inseparately intertwined in the annals of romantic Spain, the Alhambra
is as much an object of devotion as is the Caaba to all true Moslems.
How many legends and traditions, true and fabulous,--how many songs and
ballads, Arabian and Spanish, of love and war and chivalry, are associated
with this Oriental pile! It was the royal abode of the Moorish kings,
where, surrounded with the splendours and refinements of Asiatic luxury,
they held dominion over what they vaunted as a terrestrial paradise, and
made their last stand for empire in Spain. The royal palace forms but
a part of a fortress, the walls of which, studded with towers, stretch
irregularly round the whole crest of a hill, a spur of the Sierra Nevada
or Snowy Mountains, and overlook the city; externally it is a rude
congregation of towers and battlements, with no regularity of plan nor
grace of architecture, and giving little promise of the grace and beauty
which prevail within.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
In the time of the Moors the fortress was capable of containing within its
outward precincts an army of forty thousand men, and served occasionally
as a stronghold of the sovereigns against their rebellious subjects. After
the kingdom had passed into the hands of the Christians, the Alhambra
continued to be a royal demesne, and was occasionally inhabited by the
Castilian monarchs. The emperor Charles V. commenced a sumptuous palace
within its walls, but was deterred from completing it by repeated shocks
of earthquakes. The last royal residents were Philip V. and his beautiful
queen, Elizabetta of Parma, early in the eighteenth century. Great
preparations were made for their reception. The palace and gardens were
placed in a state of repair, and a new suite of apartments erected, and
decorated by artists brought from Italy. The sojourn of the sovereigns was
transient, and after their departure the palace once more became desolate.
Still the place was maintained with some military state. The governor
held it immediately from the crown, its jurisdiction extended down into
the suburbs of the city, and was independent of the captain-general
of Granada. A considerable garrison was kept up; the governor had his
apartments in the front of the old Moorish palace, and never descended
into Granada without some military parade. The fortress, in fact, was a
little town of itself, having several streets of houses within its walls,
together with a Franciscan convent and a parochial church.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The desertion of the court, however, was a fatal blow to the Alhambra.
Its beautiful halls became desolate, and some of them fell to ruin; the
gardens were destroyed, and the fountains ceased to play. By degrees
the dwellings became filled with a loose and lawless population:
_contrabandistas_, who availed themselves of its independent jurisdiction
to carry on a wide and daring course of smuggling, and thieves and rogues
of all sorts, who made this their place of refuge whence they might
depredate upon Granada and its vicinity. The strong arm of government
at length interfered; the whole community was thoroughly sifted; none
were suffered to remain but such as were of honest character, and had
legitimate right to a residence; the greater part of the houses were
demolished and a mere hamlet left, with the parochial church and the
Franciscan convent. During the recent troubles in Spain, when Granada was
in the hands of the French, the Alhambra was garrisoned by their troops,
and the palace was occasionally inhabited by the French commander. With
that enlightened taste which has ever distinguished the French nation
in their conquests, this monument of Moorish elegance and grandeur was
rescued from the absolute ruin and desolation that were overwhelming
it. The roofs were repaired, the saloons and galleries protected from
the weather, the gardens cultivated, the watercourses restored, the
fountains once more made to throw up their sparkling showers; and Spain
may thank her invaders for having preserved to her the most beautiful and
interesting of her historical monuments.
[Illustration]
On the departure of the French they blew up several towers of the outer
wall, and left the fortifications scarcely tenable. Since that time the
military importance of the post is at an end. The garrison is a handful
of invalid soldiers, whose principal duty is to guard some of the outer
towers, which serve occasionally as a prison of state; and the governor,
abandoning the lofty hill of the Alhambra, resides in the centre of
Granada, for the more convenient despatch of his official duties.
Our first object of course, on the morning after our arrival, was a visit
to this time-honoured edifice; it has been so often, however, and so
minutely described by travellers, that I shall not undertake to give a
comprehensive and elaborate account of it, but merely occasional sketches
of parts, with the incidents and associations connected with them.
[Illustration]
Leaving our _posada_, and traversing the renowned square of the
Vivarrambla, once the scene of Moorish jousts and tournaments, now a
crowded market-place, we proceeded along the Zacatin, the main street
of what, in the time of the Moors, was the Great Bazaar, and where
small shops and narrow alleys still retain the Oriental character.
Crossing an open place in front of the palace of the captain-general,
we ascended a confined and winding street, the name of which reminded
us of the chivalric days of Granada. It is called the Calle, or street
of the Gomeres, from a Moorish family famous in chronicle and song. This
street led up to the Puerta de las Granadas, a massive gateway of Grecian
architecture, built by Charles V., forming the entrance to the domains of
the Alhambra.
At the gate were two or three ragged superannuated soldiers, dozing on
a stone bench, the successors of the Zegris and the Abencerrages; while
a tall meagre varlet, whose rusty-brown cloak was evidently intended
to conceal the ragged state of his nether garments, was lounging in the
sunshine and gossiping with an ancient sentinel on duty. He joined us as
we entered the gate, and offered his services to show us the fortress.
[Illustration]
I have a traveller's dislike to officious ciceroni, and did not altogether
like the garb of the applicant.
"You are well acquainted with the place, I presume?"
"_Ninguno mas; pues señor, soy hijo de la Alhambra._"
(Nobody better; in fact, sir, I am a son of the Alhambra!)
The common Spaniards have certainly a most poetical way of expressing
themselves. "A son of the Alhambra!" the appellation caught me at once;
the very tattered garb of my new acquaintance assumed a dignity in my
eyes. It was emblematic of the fortunes of the place, and befitted the
progeny of a ruin.
[Illustration]
I put some further questions to him, and found that his title was
legitimate. His family had lived in the fortress from generation to
generation ever since the time of the Conquest. His name was Mateo
Ximenes. "Then, perhaps," said I, "you may be a descendant from the great
Cardinal Ximenes?"--"_Dios sabe!_ God knows, Señor! It may be so. We are
the oldest family in the Alhambra,--_Christianos viejos_, old Christians,
without any taint of Moor or Jew. I know we belong to some great family or
other, but I forgot whom. My father knows all about it: he has the coat
of arms hanging up in his cottage, up in the fortress." There is not any
Spaniard, however poor, but has some claim to high pedigree. The first
title of this ragged worthy, however, had completely captivated me; so I
gladly accepted the services of the "son of the Alhambra."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
We now found ourselves in a deep narrow ravine, filled with beautiful
groves, with a steep avenue, and various footpaths winding through it,
bordered with stone seats, and ornamented with fountains. To our left we
beheld the towers of the Alhambra beetling above us; to our right, on the
opposite side of the ravine, we were equally dominated by rival towers
on a rocky eminence. These, we were told, were the Torres Vermejos, or
vermilion towers, so called from their ruddy hue. No one knows their
origin. They are of a date much anterior to the Alhambra: some suppose
them to have been built by the Romans; others, by some wandering colony
of Phœnicians. Ascending the steep and shady avenue, we arrived at the
foot of a huge square Moorish tower, forming a kind of barbican, through
which passed the main entrance to the fortress. Within the barbican was
another group of veteran invalids, one mounting guard at the portal, while
the rest, wrapped in their tattered cloaks, slept on the stone benches.
This portal is called the Gate of Justice, from the tribunal held within
its porch during the Moslem domination, for the immediate trial of petty
causes: a custom common to the Oriental nations, and occasionally alluded
to in the sacred Scriptures. "Judges and officers shalt thou make thee
_in all thy gates_, and they shall judge the people with just judgment."
[Illustration]
The great vestibule, or porch of the gate, is formed by an immense Arabian
arch, of the horseshoe form, which springs to half the height of the
tower. On the keystone of this arch is engraven a gigantic hand. Within
the vestibule, on the keystone of the portal, is sculptured, in like
manner, a gigantic key. Those who pretend to some knowledge of Mohammedan
symbols, affirm that the hand is the emblem of doctrine; the five fingers
designating the five principal commandments of the creed of Islam,
fasting, pilgrimage, alms-giving, ablution, and war against infidels. The
key, say they, is the emblem of the faith or of power; the key of Daoud,
or David, transmitted to the prophet. "And the key of the house of David
will I lay upon his shoulder; so he shall open, and none shall shut, and
he shall shut, and none shall open." (Isaiah xxii. 22.) The key we are
told was emblazoned on the standard of the Moslems in opposition to the
Christian emblem of the cross, when they subdued Spain or Andalusia. It
betokened the conquering power invested in the prophet. "He that hath the
key of David, he that openeth, and no man shutteth; and shutteth, and no
man openeth." (Rev. iii. 7.)
[Illustration]
A different explanation of these emblems, however, was given by the
legitimate son of the Alhambra, and one more in unison with the notions of
the common people, who attach something of mystery and magic to everything
Moorish, and have all kinds of superstitions connected with this old
Moslem fortress. According to Mateo, it was a tradition handed down from
the oldest inhabitants, and which he had from his father and grandfather,
that the hand and key were magical devices on which the fate of the
Alhambra depended. The Moorish king who built it was a great magician, or,
as some believed, had sold himself to the devil, and had laid the whole
fortress under a magic spell. By this means it had remained standing, for
several years, in defiance of storms and earthquakes, while almost all
other buildings of the Moors had fallen to ruin and disappeared. This
spell, the tradition went on to say, would last until the hand on the
outer arch should reach down and grasp the key, when the whole pile would
tumble to pieces, and all the treasures buried beneath it by the Moors
would be revealed.
[Illustration]
Notwithstanding this ominous prediction, we ventured to pass through
the spell-bound gateway, feeling some little assurance against magic art
in the protection of the Virgin, a statue of whom we observed above the
portal.
[Illustration]
After passing through the barbican, we ascended a narrow lane, winding
between walls, and came on an open esplanade within the fortress, called
the Plaza de los Algibes, or Place of the Cisterns, from great reservoirs
which undermine it, cut in the living rock by the Moors to receive the
water brought by conduits from the Darro, for the supply of the fortress.
Here, also, is a well of immense depth, furnishing the purest and coldest
of water,--another monument of the delicate taste of the Moors, who were
indefatigable in their exertions to obtain that element in its crystal
purity.
In front of this esplanade is the splendid pile commenced by Charles V.,
and intended, it is said, to eclipse the residence of the Moorish kings.
Much of the Oriental edifice intended for the winter season was demolished
to make way for this massive pile. The grand entrance was blocked up;
so that the present entrance to the Moorish palace is through a simple
and almost humble portal in a corner. With all the massive grandeur and
architectural merit of the palace of Charles V., we regarded it as an
arrogant intruder, and passing by it with a feeling almost of scorn, rang
at the Moslem portal.
[Illustration]
While waiting for admittance, our self-imposed cicerone, Mateo Ximenes,
informed us that the royal palace was intrusted to the care of a worthy
old maiden dame called Doña Antonia-Molina, but who, according to Spanish
custom, went by the more neighbourly appellation of Tia Antonia (Aunt
Antonia), who maintained the Moorish halls and gardens in order and showed
them to strangers. While we were talking, the door was opened by a plump
little black-eyed Andalusian damsel, whom Mateo addressed as Dolores, but
who from her bright looks and cheerful disposition evidently merited a
merrier name. Mateo informed me in a whisper that she was the niece of Tia
Antonia, and I found she was the good fairy who was to conduct us through
the enchanted palace. Under her guidance we crossed the threshold, and
were at once transported, as if by magic wand, into other times and an
oriental realm, and were treading the scenes of Arabian story. Nothing
could be in greater contrast than the unpromising exterior of the pile
with the scene now before us. We found ourselves in a vast _patio_ or
court, one hundred and fifty feet in length, and upwards of eighty feet
in breadth, paved with white marble, and decorated at each end with
light Moorish peristyles, one of which supported an elegant gallery of
fretted architecture. Along the mouldings of the cornices and on various
parts of the walls were escutcheons and ciphers, and cufic and Arabic
characters in high relief, repeating the pious mottoes of the Moslem
monarchs, the builders of the Alhambra, or extolling their grandeur and
munificence. Along the centre of the court extended an immense basin or
tank (_estanque_), a hundred and twenty-four feet in length, twenty-seven
in breadth, and five in depth, receiving its water from two marble vases.
Hence it is called the Court of the Alberca (from _al beerkah_, the Arabic
for a pond or tank). Great numbers of gold-fish were to be seen gleaming
through the waters of the basin, and it was bordered by hedges of roses.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: _The Gardens_]
[Illustration: _Court of the Tank._]
[Illustration: _Fishponds of the Alhambra._]