The Alhambra 22

The Alhambra 22

In emulation of this great _Dia de la Toma_ of Granada, almost every

village and petty town of the mountains has its own anniversary,

commemorating, with rustic pomp and uncouth ceremonial, its deliverance

from the Moorish yoke. On these occasions, according to Mateo, a kind of

resurrection takes place of ancient armor and weapons; great two-handed

swords, ponderous arquebuses with matchlocks, and other warlike relics,

treasured up from generation to generation, since the time of the

Conquest; and happy the community that possesses some old piece of

ordnance, peradventure one of the identical lombards used by the

conquerors; it is kept thundering along the mountains all day long,

provided the community can afford sufficient expenditure of powder.

 

In the course of the day a kind of warlike drama is enacted. Some of the

populace parade the streets, fitted out with the old armor, as champions

of the faith. Others appear dressed up as Moorish warriors. A tent is

pitched in the public square, inclosing an altar with an image of the

Virgin. The Christian warriors approach to perform their devotions; the

infidels surround the tent to prevent their entrance; a mock fight

ensues; the combatants sometimes forget that they are merely playing a

part, and dry blows of grievous weight are apt to be exchanged. The

contest, however, invariably terminates in favor of the good cause. The

Moors are defeated and taken prisoners. The image of the Virgin, rescued

from thraldom, is elevated in triumph; a grand procession succeeds, in

which the conquerors figure with great applause and vainglory; while

their captives are led in chains, to the evident delight and edification

of the spectators.

 

These celebrations are heavy drains on the treasuries of these petty

communities, and have sometimes to be suspended for want of funds; but,

when times grow better, or sufficient money has been hoarded for the

purpose, they are resumed with new zeal and prodigality.

 

Mateo informed me that he had occasionally assisted at these fêtes and

taken a part in the combats; but always on the side of the true faith;

_porque Señor_, added the ragged descendant of the Cardinal Ximenes,

tapping his breast with something of an air,--“_porque Señor, soy

Christiano viejo_.”

 

 

 

 

LOCAL TRADITIONS

 

 

The common people of Spain have an Oriental passion for story-telling,

and are fond of the marvellous. They will gather round the doors of

their cottages in summer evenings, or in the great cavernous

chimney-corners of the ventas in the winter, and listen with insatiable

delight to miraculous legends of saints, perilous adventures of

travellers, and daring exploits of robbers and contrabandistas. The wild

and solitary character of the country, the imperfect diffusion of

knowledge, the scarceness of general topics of conversation, and the

romantic adventurous life that every one leads in a land where

travelling is yet in its primitive state, all contribute to cherish this

love of oral narration, and to produce a strong infusion of the

extravagant and incredible. There is no theme, however, more prevalent

and popular than that of treasures buried by the Moors; it pervades the

whole country. In traversing the wild sierras, the scenes of ancient

foray and exploit, you cannot see a Moorish atalaya, or watch-tower,

perched among the cliffs, or beetling above its rock-built village, but

your muleteer, on being closely questioned, will suspend the smoking of

his cigarillo to tell some tale of Moslem gold buried beneath its

foundations; nor is there a ruined alcazar in a city but has its golden

tradition, handed down from generation to generation among the poor

people of the neighborhood.

 

These, like most popular fictions, have sprung from some scanty

groundwork of fact. During the wars between Moor and Christian, which

distracted this country for centuries, towns and castles were liable

frequently and suddenly to change owners, and the inhabitants, during

sieges and assaults, were fain to bury their money and jewels in the

earth, or hide them in vaults and wells, as is often done at the present

day in the despotic and belligerent countries of the East. At the time

of the expulsion of the Moors, also, many of them concealed their most

precious effects, hoping that their exile would be but temporary, and

that they would be enabled to return and retrieve their treasures at

some future day. It is certain that from time to time hoards of gold and

silver coin have been accidentally digged up, after a lapse of

centuries, from among the ruins of Moorish fortresses and habitations;

and it requires but a few facts of the kind to give birth to a thousand

fictions.

 

The stories thus originating have generally something of an Oriental

tinge, and are marked with that mixture of the Arabic and the Gothic

which seems to me to characterize everything in Spain, and especially in

its southern provinces. The hidden wealth is always laid under magic

spell, and secured by charm and talisman. Sometimes it is guarded by

uncouth monsters or fiery dragons, sometimes by enchanted Moors, who sit

by it in armor, with drawn swords, but motionless as statues,

maintaining a sleepless watch for ages.

 

The Alhambra of course, from the peculiar circumstances of its history,

is a stronghold for popular fictions of the kind; and various relics,

digged up from time to time, have contributed to strengthen them. At one

time an earthen vessel was found containing Moorish coins and the

skeleton of a cock, which, according to the opinion of certain shrewd

inspectors, must have been buried alive. At another time a vessel was

dug up containing a great scarabæus or beetle of baked clay, covered

with Arabic inscriptions, which was pronounced a prodigious amulet of

occult virtues. In this way the wits of the ragged brood who inhabit the

Alhambra have been set wool-gathering, until there is not a hall, nor

tower, nor vault, of the old fortress, that has not been made the scene

of some marvellous tradition. Having, I trust, in the preceding papers

made the reader in some degree familiar with the localities of the

Alhambra, I shall now launch out more largely into the wonderful legends

connected with it, and which I have diligently wrought into shape and

form, from various legendary scraps and hints picked up in the course of

my perambulations,--in the same manner that an antiquary works out a

regular historical document from a few scattered letters of an almost

defaced inscription.

 

If anything in these legends should shock the faith of the

over-scrupulous reader, he must remember the nature of the place, and

make due allowances. He must not expect here the same laws of

probability that govern commonplace scenes and every-day life; he must

remember that he treads the halls of an enchanted palace and that all is

“haunted ground.”

 

 

 

 

THE HOUSE OF THE WEATHERCOCK

 

 

On the brow of the lofty hill of the Albaycin, the highest part of

Granada, and which rises from the narrow valley of the Darro, directly

opposite to the Alhambra, stands all that is left of what was once a

royal palace of the Moors. It has, in fact, fallen into such obscurity,

that it cost me much trouble to find it, though aided in my researches

by the sagacious and all-knowing Mateo Ximenes. This edifice has borne

for centuries the name of “The House of the Weathercock” (La casa del

Gallo de Viento), from a bronze figure on one of its turrets, in ancient

times, of a warrior on horseback, and turning with every breeze. This

weathercock was considered by the Moslems of Granada a portentous

talisman. According to some traditions, it bore the following Arabic

inscription:

 

Calet el Bedici Aben Habuz,

Quidat ehahet Lindabuz.

 

Which has been rendered into Spanish:

 

Dice el sabio Aben Habuz,

Que asi se defiende el Anduluz.

 

And into English:

 

In this way, says Aben Habuz the Wise,

Andaluz guards against surprise.

 

This Aben Habuz, according to some of the old Moorish chronicles, was a

captain in the invading army of Taric, one of the conquerors of Spain,

who left him as Alcayde of Granada. He is supposed to have intended this

effigy as a perpetual warning to the Moslems of Andaluz, that,

surrounded by foes, their safety depended upon their being always on

their guard and ready for the field.

 

Others, among whom is the Christian historian Marmol, affirms “Badis

Aben Habus” to have been a Moorish sultan of Granada, and that the

weathercock was intended as a perpetual admonition of the instability of

Moslem power, bearing the following words in Arabic:

 

“Thus Ibn Habus al badise predicts Andalus shall one day vanish and pass

away.”[16]

 

Another version of this portentous inscription is given by a Moslem

historian, on the authority of Sidi Hasan, a faquir who flourished about

the time of Ferdinand and Isabella, and who was present at the taking

down of the weathercock, when the old Kassaba was undergoing repairs.

 

“I saw it,” says the venerable faquir, “with my own eyes; it was of a

heptagonal shape, and had the following inscription in verse:

 

“The palace at fair Granada presents a talisman.”

 

“The horseman, though a solid body, turns with every wind.”

 

“This to a wise man reveals a mystery. In a little while comes a

calamity to ruin both the palace and its owner.”

 

In effect it was not long after this meddling with the portentous

weathercock that the following event occurred. As old Muley Abul Hassan,

the king of Granada, was seated under a sumptuous pavilion, reviewing

his troops, who paraded before him in armor of polished steel and

gorgeous silken robes, mounted on fleet steeds, and equipped with

swords, spears, and shields embossed with gold and silver,--suddenly a

tempest was seen hurrying from the southwest. In a little while black

clouds overshadowed the heavens and burst forth with a deluge of rain.

Torrents came roaring down from the mountains, bringing with them rocks

and trees; the Darro overflowed its banks; mills were swept away,

bridges destroyed, gardens laid waste; the inundation rushed into the

city, undermining houses, drowning their inhabitants, and overflowing