The Alhambra 6

The Alhambra 6

others cut

the cords, let the packs fall off to delay the enemy, and endeavor 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 legítimos_,”--and then they become

legitimate robbers.

 

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 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 neighborhood; 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.

 

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 purísima--what women!”--“But the posada you talk

of,” said I, “are you sure it is a good one?”

 

“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.

 

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 patronizing

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.

 

 

 

 

PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA

 

 

To the traveller imbued with a feeling for the historical and poetical,

so inseparably 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 splendors 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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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 dispatch of his official duties. I

cannot conclude this brief notice of the state of the fortress without

bearing testimony to the honorable exertions of its present commander,

Don Francisco de Serna, who is tasking all the limited resources at his

command to put the palace in a state of repair, and by his judicious

precautions has for some time arrested its too certain decay. Had his

predecessors discharged the duties of their station with equal fidelity,

the Alhambra might yet have remained in almost its pristine beauty; were

government to second him with means equal to his zeal, this relic of it

might still be preserved for many generations to adorn the land, and

attract the curious and enlightened of every clime.

 

Our first object of course, on the morning after our arrival, was a

visit to this time-honored 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.