an individual, and contrary to the express orders of the king of Castile,
the peace of the two kingdoms was not interrupted. Nay, the Moors evinced
a feeling of respect for the valour of the unfortunate grand master, and
readily gave up his body to Don Alonzo Fernandez de Cordova, who came from
Alcala to seek it. The Christians of the frontier united in paying the
last sad honours to his memory. His body was placed upon a bier, covered
with the pennon of the order of Alcántara; and the broken cross, the
emblem of his confident hopes and fatal disappointment, was borne before
it. In this way his remains were carried back in funeral procession,
through the mountain tract which he had traversed so resolutely. Wherever
it passed, through a town or village, the populace followed, with tears
and lamentations, bewailing him as a valiant knight and a martyr to the
faith. His body was interred in the chapel of the convent of Santa Maria
de Almocovara, and on his sepulchre may still be seen engraven in quaint
and antique Spanish the following testimonial to his bravery:--
HERE LIES ONE WHOSE HEART NEVER KNEW FEAR.
(_Aqui yaz aquel, que par neua cosa nunca eve pavor en seu corazon._)
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
AN EXPEDITION IN QUEST OF A DIPLOMA
One of the most important occurrences in the domestic life of the
Alhambra, was the departure of Manuel, the nephew of Doña Antonia, for
Malaga, to stand examination as a physician. I have already informed the
reader that, on his success in obtaining a degree depended in a great
measure the union and future fortunes of himself and his cousin Dolores;
at least so I was privately informed by Mateo Ximenes, and various
circumstances occurred to corroborate his information. Their courtship,
however, was carried on very quietly and discreetly, and I scarce think
I should have discovered it, if I had not been put on the alert by the
all-observant Mateo.
In the present instance, Dolores was less on the reserve, and had busied
herself for several days in fitting out honest Manuel for his expedition.
All his clothes had been arranged and packed in the neatest order, and
above all she had worked a smart Andalusian travelling-jacket for him with
her own hands. On the morning appointed for his departure, a stout mule
on which he was to perform the journey was paraded at the portal of the
Alhambra, and _Tio Polo_ (Uncle Polo), an old invalid soldier, attended
to caparison him. This veteran was one of the curiosities of the place.
He had a leathern lantern visage tanned in the tropics, a long Roman nose,
and a black beetle eye. I had frequently observed him reading, apparently
with intense interest, an old parchment-bound volume; sometimes he would
be surrounded by a group of his brother invalids; some seated on the
parapets, some lying on the grass, listening with fixed attention, while
he read slowly and deliberately out of his favourite work, sometimes
pausing to explain or expound for the benefit of his less enlightened
auditors.
I took occasion one day to inform myself of this ancient book, which
appeared to be his _vade mecum_, and found it to be an odd volume of the
works of Padre Benito Geronymo Feyjoo; and that one which treats about
the Magic of Spain, the mysterious caves of Salamanca and Toledo, the
Purgatory of _San Patricio_ (St. Patrick), and other mystic subjects of
the kind. From that time I kept my eye upon the veteran.
On the present occasion I amused myself with watching him fit out the
steed of Manuel with all the forecast of an old campaigner. First he
took a considerable time in adjusting to the back of the mule a cumbrous
saddle of antique fashion, high in front and behind, with Moorish stirrups
like shovels; the whole looking like a relic of the old armoury of the
Alhambra; then a fleecy sheepskin was accommodated to the deep seat of
the saddle; then a _maleta_, neatly packed by the hand of Dolores, was
buckled behind; then a _manta_ was thrown over it to serve as either
cloak or couch; then the all-important _alforjas_ carefully stocked with
provant, were hung in front, together with the _bota_, or leathern bottle
for either wine or water, and lastly the _trabuco_, which the old soldier
slung behind, giving it his benediction. It was like the fitting out in
old times of a Moorish cavalier for a foray or a joust in the Vivarrambla.
A number of the lazzaroni of the fortress had gathered round, with some
of the invalids, all looking on, all offering their aid, and all giving
advice, to the great annoyance of _Tio Polo_.
When all was ready Manuel took leave of the household; _Tio Polo_ held his
stirrup while he mounted, adjusted the girths and saddle, and cheered him
off in military style; then turning to Dolores, who stood admiring her
cavalier as he trotted off, "Ah, Dolorocita," exclaimed he, with a nod
and a wink, "_es muy guapo Manuelito in su Xaqueta_" (Ah Dolores, Manuel
is mighty fine in his jacket). The little damsel blushed and laughed, and
ran into the house.
Days elapsed without tidings from Manuel, though he had promised to write.
The heart of Dolores began to misgive her. Had anything happened to him
on the road? Had he failed in his examination? A circumstance occurred
in her little household to add to her uneasiness and fill her mind with
foreboding. It was almost equal to the _escapado_ of her pigeon. Her
tortoise-shell cat eloped at night and clambered to the tiled roof of
the Alhambra. In the dead of the night there was a fearful caterwauling;
some grimalkin was uncivil to her; then there was a scramble; then a
clapper-clawing; then both parties rolled off the roof and tumbled from
a great height among the trees on the hill-side. Nothing more was seen or
heard of the fugitive, and poor Dolores considered it but the prelude to
greater calamities.
At the end of ten days, however, Manuel returned in triumph, duly
authorised to kill or cure; and all Dolores' cares were over. There was
a general gathering in the evening of the humble friends and hangers-on
of Dame Antonia to congratulate her and pay their respects to _el Señor
Medico_, who, peradventure, at some future day might have all their lives
in his hands. One of the most important of these guests was old _Tio
Polo_; and I gladly seized the occasion to prosecute my acquaintance with
him. "Oh Señor," cried Dolores, "you who are so eager to learn all the old
histories of the Alhambra, _Tio Polo_ knows more about them than any one
else about the place. More than Mateo Ximenes and his whole family put
together. _Vaya--Vaya--Tio Polo_, tell the Señor all those stories you
told us one evening, about enchanted Moors, and the haunted bridge over
the Darro, and the old stone pomegranates, that have been there since the
days of King Chico."
It was some time before the old invalid could be brought into a narrative
vein. He shook his head--they were all idle tales; not worthy of being
told to a _cavallero_ like myself. It was only by telling some stories of
the kind myself I at last got him to open his budget. It was a whimsical
farrago, partly made up of what he had heard at the Alhambra, partly of
what he had read in _Padre Feyjoo_. I will endeavour to give the reader
the substance of it, but I will not promise to give it in the very words
of _Tio Polo_.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE LEGEND OF THE ENCHANTED SOLDIER
Everybody has heard of the Cave of St. Cyprian at Salamanca, where in
old times judicial astronomy, necromancy, chiromancy, and other dark and
damnable arts were secretly taught by an ancient sacristan; or, as some
will have it, by the devil himself, in that disguise. The cave has long
been shut up and the very site of it forgotten; though, according to
tradition, the entrance was somewhere about where the stone cross stands
in the small square of the seminary of Carvajal; and this tradition
appears in some degree corroborated by the circumstances of the following
story.
There was at one time a student of Salamanca, Don Vicente by name, of that
merry but mendicant class, who set out on the road to learning without a
penny in pouch for the journey, and who, during college vacations, beg
from town to town and village to village to raise funds to enable them
to pursue their studies through the ensuing term. He was now about to set
forth on his wanderings; and being somewhat musical, slung on his back a
guitar with which to amuse the villagers, and pay for a meal or a night's
lodging.
As he passed by the stone cross in the seminary square, he pulled off
his hat and made a short invocation to St. Cyprian, for good luck; when
casting his eyes upon the earth, he perceived something glitter at the
foot of the cross. On picking it up, it proved to be a seal-ring of mixed
metal, in which gold and silver appeared to be blended. The seal bore as
a device two triangles crossing each other, so as to form a star. This
device is said to be a cabalistic sign, invented by king Solomon the Wise,
and of mighty power in all cases of enchantment; but the honest student,
being neither sage nor conjurer, knew nothing of the matter. He took the
ring as a present from St. Cyprian in reward of his prayer; slipped it
on his finger, made a bow to the cross, and strumming his guitar, set off
merrily on his wandering.
The life of a mendicant student in Spain is not the most miserable in
the world; especially if he has any talent at making himself agreeable.
He rambles at large from village to village, and city to city, wherever
curiosity or caprice may conduct him. The country curates, who, for the
most part, have been mendicant students in their time, give him shelter
for the night, and a comfortable meal, and often enrich him with several
quartos, or halfpence in the morning. As he presents himself from door
to door in the streets of the cities, he meets with no harsh rebuff, no
chilling contempt, for there is no disgrace attending his mendicity, many
of the most learned men in Spain having commenced their career in this
manner; but if, like the student in question, he is a good-looking varlet
and a merry companion; and, above all, if he can play the guitar, he is
sure of a hearty welcome among the peasants, and smiles and favours from
their wives and daughters.
In this way, then, did our ragged and musical son of learning make his
way over half the kingdom; with fixed determination to visit the famous
city of Granada before his return. Sometimes he was gathered for the night
into the fold of some village pastor; sometimes he was sheltered under
the humble, but hospitable roof of the peasant. Seated at the cottage
door with his guitar, he delighted the simple folk with his ditties;
or striking up a _fandango_ or _bolero_, set the brown country lads and
lasses dancing in the mellow twilight. In the morning he departed with
kind words from host and hostess, and kind looks and, peradventure, a
squeeze of the hand from the daughter.
At length he arrived at the great object of his musical vagabondising, the
far-famed city of Granada, and hailed with wonder and delight its Moorish
towers, its lovely _vega_, and its snowy mountains glistening through
a summer atmosphere. It is needless to say with what eager curiosity he
entered its gates and wandered through its streets, and gazed upon its
oriental monuments. Every female face peering through a window or beaming
from a balcony was to him a Zorayda or a Zelinda, nor could he meet
a stately dame on the Alameda but he was ready to fancy her a Moorish
princess, and to spread his student's robe beneath her feet.
His musical talent, his happy humour, his youth and his good looks, won
him a universal welcome in spite of his ragged robes, and for several days
he led a gay life in the old Moorish capital and its environs. One of his
occasional haunts was the fountain of Avellanos, in the valley of Darro.
It is one of the popular resorts of Granada, and has been so since the
days of the Moors; and here the student had an opportunity of pursuing
his studies of female beauty; a branch of study to which he was a little
prone.
Here he would take his seat with his guitar, improvise love-ditties to
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.
[Illustration]
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 neighbour 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 armour, 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.
[Illustration]
"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.
[Illustration]
"A rare old suit of armour 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 butt-end of his spear. A
rumbling sound was heard, and the solid stones yawned apart, leaving an
opening as wide as a door.
[Illustration]
"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 gaily than he had
entered. The wall closed behind him, and remained solid as before.