The Alhambra 26

The Alhambra 26

At length Aben Habuz died, and was buried. Ages have since rolled away.

The Alhambra has been built on the eventful mountain, and in some

measure realizes the fabled delights of the garden of Irem. The

spell-bound gateway still exists entire, protected no doubt by the

mystic hand and key, and now forms the Gate of Justice, the grand

entrance to the fortress. Under that gateway, it is said, the old

astrologer remains in his subterranean hall, nodding on his divan,

lulled by the silver lyre of the princess.

 

The old invalid sentinels who mount guard at the gate hear the strains

occasionally in the summer nights; and, yielding to their soporific

power, doze quietly at their posts. Nay, so drowsy an influence pervades

the place, that even those who watch by day may generally be seen

nodding on the stone benches of the barbican, or sleeping under the

neighboring trees; so that in fact it is the drowsiest military post in

all Christendom. All this, say the ancient legends, will endure from age

to age. The princess will remain captive to the astrologer; and the

astrologer, bound up in magic slumber by the princess, until the last

day, unless the mystic hand shall grasp the fated key, and dispel the

whole charm of this enchanted mountain.

 

 

NOTE TO THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER

 

Al Makkari, in his history of the Mahommedan Dynasties in Spain,

cites from another Arabian writer an account of a talismanic effigy

somewhat similar to the one in the foregoing legend.

 

In Cadiz, says he, there formerly stood a square tower upwards of

one hundred cubits high, built of huge blocks of stone, fastened

together with clamps of brass. On the top was the figure of a man,

holding a staff in his right hand, his face turned to the Atlantic,

and pointing with the forefinger of his left hand to the Straits of

Gibraltar. It was said to have been set up in ancient times by the

Gothic kings of Andalus, as a beacon or guide to navigators. The

Moslems of Barbary and Andalus considered it a talisman which

exercised a spell over the seas. Under its guidance, swarms of

piratical people of a nation called Majus, appeared on the coast in

large vessels with a square sail in the bow, and another in the

stern. They came every six or seven years; captured everything they

met with on the sea;--guided by the statue, they passed through the

Straits into the Mediterranean, landed on the coasts of Andalus,

laid everything waste with fire and sword; and sometimes carried

their depredations on the opposite coasts even as far as Syria.

 

At length it came to pass in the time of the civil wars, a Moslem

Admiral who had taken possession of Cadiz, hearing that the statue

on top of the tower was of pure gold, had it lowered to the ground

and broken to pieces: when it proved to be of gilded brass. With

the destruction of the idol, the spell over the sea was at an end.

From that time forward nothing more was seen of the piratical

people of the ocean excepting that two of their barks were wrecked

on the coast, one at Marsu-l-Majus (the port of the Majus), the

other close to the promontory of Al Aghan.

 

The maritime invaders above mentioned by Al Makkari must have been

the Northmen.

 

 

 

 

VISITORS TO THE ALHAMBRA

 

 

For nearly three months had I enjoyed undisturbed my dream of

sovereignty in the Alhambra,--a longer term of quiet than had been the

lot of many of my predecessors. During this lapse of time the progress

of the season had wrought the usual change. On my arrival I had found

everything in the freshness of May; the foliage of the trees was still

tender and transparent; the pomegranate had not yet shed its brilliant

crimson blossoms; the orchards of the Xenil and the Darro were in full

bloom; the rocks were hung with wild flowers, and Granada seemed

completely surrounded by a wilderness of roses; among which innumerable

nightingales sang, not merely in the night, but all day long.

 

Now the advance of summer had withered the rose and silenced the

nightingale, and the distant country began to look parched and sunburnt;

though a perennial verdure reigned immediately round the city and in the

deep narrow valleys at the foot of the snow-capped mountains.

 

The Alhambra possesses retreats graduated to the heat of the weather,

among which the most peculiar is the almost subterranean apartment of

the baths. This still retains its ancient Oriental character, though

stamped with the touching traces of decline. At the entrance, opening

into a small court formerly adorned with flowers, is a hall, moderate in

size, but light and graceful in architecture. It is overlooked by a

small gallery supported by marble pillars and Moresco arches. An

alabaster fountain in the centre of the pavement still throws up a jet

of water to cool the place. On each side are deep alcoves with raised

platforms, where the bathers, after their ablutions, reclined on

cushions, soothed to voluptuous repose by the fragrance of the perfumed

air and the notes of soft music from the gallery. Beyond this hall are

the interior chambers, still more retired; the _sanctum sanctorum_ of

female privacy; for here the beauties of the Harem indulged in the

luxury of the baths. A soft mysterious light reigns through the place,

admitted through small apertures (lumbreras) in the vaulted ceiling. The

traces of ancient elegance are still to be seen; and the alabaster baths

in which the sultanas once reclined. The prevailing obscurity and

silence have made these vaults a favorite resort of bats, who nestle

during the day in the dark nooks and corners, and on being disturbed,

flit mysteriously about the twilight chambers, heightening, in an

indescribable degree, their air of desertion and decay.

 

In this cool and elegant, though dilapidated retreat, which had the

freshness and seclusion of a grotto, I passed the sultry hours of the

day as summer advanced, emerging towards sunset; and bathing, or rather

swimming, at night in the great reservoir of the main court. In this way

I was enabled in a measure to counteract the relaxing and enervating

influence of the climate.

 

My dream of absolute sovereignty, however, came at length to an end. I

was roused one morning by the report of fire-arms, which reverberated

among the towers as if the castle had been taken by surprise. On

sallying forth, I found an old cavalier with a number of domestics in

possession of the Hall of Ambassadors. He was an ancient count who had

come up from his palace in Granada to pass a short time in the Alhambra

for the benefit of purer air; and who, being a veteran and inveterate

sportsman, was endeavoring to get an appetite for his breakfast by

shooting at swallows from the balconies. It was a harmless amusement;

for though, by the alertness of his attendants in loading his pieces, he

was enabled to keep up a brisk fire, I could not accuse him of the death

of a single swallow. Nay, the birds themselves seemed to enjoy the

sport, and to deride his want of skill, skimming in circles close to the

balconies, and twittering as they darted by.

 

The arrival of this old gentleman changed essentially the aspect of

affairs, but caused no jealousy nor collision. We tacitly shared the

empire between us, like the last kings of Granada, excepting that we

maintained a most amicable alliance. He reigned absolute over the Court

of the Lions and its adjacent halls, while I maintained peaceful

possession of the regions of the baths and the little garden of

Lindaraxa. We took our meals together under the arcades of the court,

where the fountains cooled the air, and bubbling rills ran along the

channels of the marble pavement.

 

In the evenings a domestic circle would gather about the worthy old

cavalier. The countess, his wife by a second marriage, would come up

from the city accompanied by her step-daughter Carmen, an only child, a

charming little being, still in her girlish years. Then there were

always some of his official dependants, his chaplain, his lawyer, his

secretary, his steward, and other officers and agents of his extensive

possessions, who brought him up the news or gossip of the city, and

formed his evening party of tresillo or ombre. Thus he held a kind of

domestic court, where each one paid him deference, and sought to

contribute to his amusement, without, however, any appearance of

servility, or any sacrifice of self-respect. In fact, nothing of the

kind was exacted by the demeanor of the count; for whatever may be said

of Spanish pride, it rarely chills or constrains the intercourse of

social or domestic life. Among no people are the relations between

kindred more unreserved and cordial, or between superior and dependant

more free from haughtiness on the one side, and obsequiousness on the

other. In these respects there still remains in Spanish life, especially

in the provinces, much of the vaunted simplicity of the olden time.

 

The most interesting member of this family group, in my eyes, was the

daughter of the count, the lovely little Carmen. She was but about

sixteen years of age, and appeared to be considered a mere child, though

the idol of the family, going generally by the childlike but endearing

appellation of la Niña. Her form had not yet attained full maturity and

development, but possessed already the exquisite symmetry and pliant

grace so prevalent in this country. Her blue eyes, fair complexion, and

light hair were unusual in Andalusia, and gave a mildness and gentleness

to her demeanor in contrast to the usual fire of Spanish beauty, but in

unison with the guileless and confiding innocence of her manners. She

had at the same time the innate aptness and versatility of her

fascinating country-women. Whatever she undertook to do she did well and

apparently without effort. She sang, played the guitar and other

instruments, and danced the picturesque dances of her country to

admiration, but never seemed to seek admiration. Everything was

spontaneous, prompted by her own gay spirits and happy temper.

 

The presence of this fascinating little being spread a new charm about

the Alhambra, and seemed to be in unison with the place. While the count

and countess, with the chaplain or secretary, were playing their game of

tresillo under the vestibule of the Court of Lions, she, attended by

Dolores, who acted as her maid of honor, would sit by one of the

fountains, and accompanying herself on the guitar, would sing some of

those popular romances which abound in Spain, or, what was still more to

my taste, some traditional ballad about the Moors.

 

Never shall I think of the Alhambra without remembering this lovely