CHAPTER XXIII.
GRANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA.
When the academy fleet arrived at Malaga, the principal decided to follow the plan he had adopted at Barcelona, though on a smaller scale, and send the Josephines and Tritonias to Cadiz, while the Princes proceeded by rail to the same place, seeing Granada, Cordova, and Seville on the way. As soon as the transfer could be made, the steamer sailed with its company of tourists; and her regular crew were domiciled at the Hotel de la Alameda, in Malaga.
“Here we are again,” said Sheridan, as the party of the doctor came together again at the hotel.
“I feel more like looking at a cathedral than I did when we were sight-seeing in December,” added Murray.
“You have not many more cathedrals to see,” replied the doctor. “There is one here; but, as this is Saturday, we will visit it to-morrow. Suppose we take a walk on the Alameda, as this handsome square is called.”
It is a beautiful bit of a park, with a fountain at each end; but it was so haunted with beggars that the tourists could not enjoy it. It was fresh and green, and bright with the flowers of early spring.
“What an abomination these beggars are!” exclaimed Sheridan, as a pair of them, one with his eyes apparently eaten out with sores, leaning on the shoulder of another seemingly well enough, saluted them with the usual petition. “It makes me sick to look at them.”
Murray gave the speaker two reales; but they would not go till the others had contributed. A little farther along they came to a blind man, who had stationed himself by a bridge, and held out his hand in silence.
“That man deserves to be encouraged for holding his tongue,” said the captain, as he dropped a peseta into the extended hand. “Most of them yell and tease so that one don’t feel like giving.”
The blind beggar called down the blessing of the Virgin upon the donor, in a gentle and devout tone. But he seemed to be an exception to all the other mendicants in Malaga. As the captain said, many of them were most disgusting sights; and they pointed out their ailments as though they were proud of them.
“This is a commercial city, and there is not much to see in it,” said the doctor, as they returned to the hotel. “Its history is but a repetition of that of nearly all the cities of Spain. It was a place of great trade in the time of the Moors: it is the fifth city of Spain, ranking next to Valencia. You saw the United States flag on quite a number of vessels in the port; and it has a large trade with our country. Wine, raisins, oranges, lemons, and grapes are the principal exports.”
The next day most of the students visited the cathedral, where they heard mass, which was attended by a battalion of soldiers, with a band which took part in the service. Early on Monday morning the tourists started for Granada, taking the train at quarter past six o’clock. The ride was exceedingly interesting; for the country between Malaga and Cordova is very fertile, though a small portion of it is a region abounding in the wildest scenery. The first part of the journey was in the midst of orange-orchards and vineyards.
“What is that sort of an inclined plane?” asked Sheridan, pointing to a stone structure like one side of the roof of a small house. “I have noticed a great many of them here and near Alicante.”
“You observe that they all slope to the south,” replied the doctor. “They are used in drying raisins. This is a grape as well as an orange country. Raisins are dried grapes; and, when you eat your plum-pudding in the future, you will be likely to think of the country around Malaga, for the nicest of them come from here.”
“This is a wild country,” said Murray, after they had been nearly two hours on the train.
“We pass through the western end of the Sierra Nevada range. Notice this steep rock,” added the doctor, as they passed a lofty precipice. “It is ‘Lovers’ Rock.’”
“Of course it is,” laughed Murray; “and they jumped down that cliff; and there is not a precipice in the world that isn’t a lovers’ leap.”
“I think you are right. In this case it was a Spanish knight, and a Moorish maiden whose father didn’t like the match.”
The travellers left the train at Bobadilla, and proceeded by rail to Archidona. Between this place and Loxa the railroad was not then built; and the distance—about sixteen miles—had to be accomplished by diligence. Half a dozen of these lumbering vehicles were in readiness, with their miscellaneous teams of horses and mules all hitched on in long strings. This part of the journey was likely to be a lark to the students; and they piled into and upon the carriages with great good-nature. The doctor and his pupils secured seats on the outside.
“This is the coupé in Spain, but it is the banquette in Switzerland,” said he, when they were seated. “It is called the dickey in England.”
“But the box for three passengers, with windows in the front of the diligence, is always the coupé,” added Sheridan.
“Not in Spain: that is called the berlina here. The middle compartment, holding four or six, is el interior; and la rotundo, in the rear, like an omnibus, holds six. The last is used by the common people because it is the cheapest.”
“But this seat is not long enough for four,” protested Murray, when the conductor directed another officer to mount the coupé”.
“Come up, commodore: I think we can make room for you,” added Sheridan.
“This is a long team,” said Commodore Cantwell, when they were seated,—“ten mules and horses.”
“I have travelled with sixteen,” added the doctor.
On a seat wide enough for two, under the windows of the berlina, the driver took his place. His reins were a couple of ropes reaching to the outside ends of the bits of the wheel-horses. He was more properly the brakeman, since he had little to do with the team, except to yell at the animals. On the nigh horse or mule, as he happened to be, rode a young man who conducted the procession. He is called the delantero. The zagal is a fellow who runs at the side of the animals, and whips them up with a long stick. The mayoral is the conductor, who is sometimes the driver; but in this case he seemed to have the charge of all the diligences.
“Oja! oja!” (o-ha) yelled the driver. The zagal began to hammer the brutes most unmercifully, and the team started at a lively pace.
“That’s too bad!” exclaimed Sheridan, when he saw the zagal pounding the mules over the backbone with his club, which was big enough to serve for a bean-pole.
“I agree with you, captain, but we can’t help ourselves,” added the doctor. “That villain will keep it up till we get to the end of our journey.”
The dilijencia passed out of the town, and went through a wild country with no signs of any inhabitants. The road was as bad as a road could be, and was nothing but a track beaten over the fields, passing over rocks and through gullies and pools of water. Carts, drawn by long strings of mules or donkeys, driven by a peasant with a gun over his shoulder, were occasionally met; but the road was very lonely. Half way to Loxa they came to a river, over which was a narrow bridge for pedestrians; but the dilijencia had to ford the stream.
At this point the horses and mules were changed; and some of the students went over the bridge, and walked till they were overtaken by the coaches. At three o’clock they drove into Loxa. The streets of the town are very steep and very narrow; and the zagal had to crowd the team over to the opposite side, in order to get the vehicle around the corners. The students on the outside could have jumped into the windows of the houses on either side, and people on the ground often had to dodge into the doorways, to keep from being run over. From this place the party proceeded to Granada by railroad. Crossing a part of this city, which is a filthy hole, the party went to the Hotel Washington Irving, and the Hotel Siete Suelos, both of which are at the very gate of the Alhambra.
The doctor and his friends were quartered at the former hotel, which is a very good one, but more expensive than the Siete Suelos on the other side of the street. They are both in the gardens of the Alhambra, the avenues of which are studded with noble elms, the gift of the Duke of Wellington.
“And this is the Alhambra,” said Capt. Sheridan, as the trio came out for a walk, after dinner.
“What is the meaning of the name of that hotel?”
“Hotel de los Siete Suelos,—the hotel of the seven stories, or floors.”
“But it hasn’t more than four or five.”
“Haven’t you read Irving’s Alhambra? He mentions a tower with this name, in which was the gate where Boabdil left the Alhambra for the last time. It was walled up at the request of the Moor.”
The party walked about the gardens till it was dark. The next morning, before the ship’s company were ready, the doctor and the three highest officers entered the walled enclosure.
“This is the Tower of Justice,” said the doctor, as they paused at the entrance. “It is so called because the Moorish kings administered the law to the people here. You see the hand and the key carved over the door. If you ask the grandson of Mateo Ximenes, who is a guide here, what it means, he will tell you the Moors believed that, when this hand reached down and took the key, the Alhambra might be captured; but not till then. Then he will tell you that they were mistaken; and give glory to the Spaniards. The key was the Moslem symbol for wisdom and knowledge; and the hand, of the five great commandments of their religion.”
The party entered the tower, in which is an altar, and passed into the square of the cisterns. Charles V. began to build a huge palace on one side of it; but the fear of earthquakes induced him to desist. He destroyed a portion of the Moorish palace to make room for it. The visitors entered an office where they registered their names, paid a couple of pesetas, and received a plan of the palace. The first names in the book are those of Washington Irving and his Russian companion.
“This is the Court of the Myrtles,” said the doctor, as they entered the first and largest court of the palace. “It is also called ‘the Court of Blessing,’ because the Moors believed water was a blessing; and this pond contains a good deal of it.”
“My guide-book does not call it by either of these names,” said Commodore Cantwell, who had Harper’s Guide in his hand. “It says here it is ‘the Patio de la Alberca,’ or fish-pond.”
“And so says Mr. Ford, who is the best authority on Spain. We must not try to reconcile the differences in guide-books. We had better call it after the myrtles that surround the tank, and let it go at that. This court is the largest of the palace, though it is only one hundred and forty by seventy-five feet. But the Alhambra is noted for its beauty, and not for its size. We will now pass into the Court of the Lions,” continued the doctor, leading the way. “This is the most celebrated, as it is the most beautiful, part of the palace.”
“I have seen many pictures of it, but I supposed it was ten times as large as it is,” said Sheridan.
“It is about one hundred and twenty by seventy feet. There are one hundred and twenty-four columns around the court. Now we must stop and look at the wonderful architecture and exquisite workmanship. Look at these graceful arches, and examine that sort of lace-work in the ceilings and walls.”
While they were thus occupied, the ship’s company came into the court, and the principal called them together to hear Professor Mapps on the history of the Alhambra.
“In 1238 Ibnu-I-Ahamar founded the kingdom of Granada, and he built the Alhambra for his palace and fortress. In Arabic it was Kasr-Alhamra, or Red Castle; and from this comes the present name. The Vermilion Tower was a part of the original fortress. Under this monarch, whose title was Mohammed I., Granada became very prosperous and powerful. When the Christians captured Valencia, the Moors fled to Granada, and fifty thousand were added to the population of the kingdom; and it is estimated that a million more came when Seville and Cordova were conquered by the Castilians. The work of this king was continued by his successors; and the Alhambra was finished in 1333 by Yosuf I. He built the Gate of Judgment, Justice, or Law, as it is variously called, and the principal parts of the palace around you. The city was in its glory then, and is said to have had half a million inhabitants. But family quarrels came into the house of the monarch, here in the Alhambra; and this was the beginning of the decline of the Moorish power.
“Abul-Hassan had two wives. One of them was Ayesha; and the other was a very beautiful Christian lady called Zoraya, or the Morning Star. Ayesha was exceedingly jealous of the other; and fearing that the son of the Morning Star, instead of her own, might succeed to the crown, she organized a powerful faction. On Zoraya’s side were the Beni-Serraj, whom the Spaniards called the Abencerrages. They were the descendants of a vizier of the King of Cordova,—Abou-Serraj. Abou-Abdallah was the eldest son of Ayesha; and in 1482 he dethroned his father. The name of this prince became Boabdil with the Spaniards; and so he is called in Mr. Irving’s works. As soon as he came into power, his mother, and the Zegris who had assisted her, persuaded him to retaliate upon the Abencerrages for the support they had given to Zoraya. Under a deceitful plea, he gathered them together in this palace, where the Zegris were waiting for them. One by one they were called into one of these courts, and treacherously murdered. Thus was Granada deprived of its bravest defenders; and the Moors were filled with indignation and contempt for their king. While they were quarrelling among themselves, Ferdinand and Isabella advanced upon Granada. They had captured all the towns and strong fortresses; and there was nothing more to stay their progress. For nine months the sovereigns besieged the city before it fell. It was a sad day for the Moors when the victors marched into the town. There is a great deal of poetry and romance connected with this palace and the Moslems who were driven out of it. You should read Mr. Lockhart’s translation of the poems on these subjects, and the works of Prescott and Irving.”
When the professor had completed his account, the doctor’s party passed in to the right, entering one of the apartments which surround the court on three of its sides.
“That’s as mean a lot of lions as I ever saw,” said Murray, who had lingered at the fountain which gives its name to the court.
“The sculpture of the lions is certainly very poor; but we can’t have every thing,” replied the doctor. “This is the Hall of the Abencerrages; and it gets its name from the story Mr. Mapps has just told you. Some say these nobles were slain in this room; and others, that they were beheaded near the fountain in the court, where the guides point out a dark spot as the stain of blood. You must closely examine the work in this little room if you wish to appreciate it.”
They returned to the Court of the Lions, and, crossing it, entered the Hall of the Two Sisters. The students expected to hear some romance told of these two ladies; but they proved to be two vast slabs in the floor. This room and that of the Abencerrages were probably the sleeping apartments of the monarch’s family; and several small chambers, used for baths and other purposes, are connected with them. On each side of them are raised platforms for the couches. At the farther end of the court is the council-hall of justice. It is long and narrow, seventy-five by sixteen feet; and is very elaborately ornamented.
At the northern end of the Court of Myrtles, is the Hall of Ambassadors, which occupies the ground floor of the Tower of Comares. It is the largest apartment of the palace, seventy-five by thirty-seven feet. This was the throne-room, or hall of audience, of the monarchs. The doctor again insisted that his pupils should scrutinize the work; and he called their attention to the horseshoe arches and various other forms and shapes, to the curious niches and alcoves, to the delicate coloring in the ceilings and on the walls, and to the interlacing designs, in the portions of the palace they visited.
They had now seen the principal apartments on the ground floor; and they ascended to the towers, the open galleries of which are a peculiarity in the construction of the edifice. They were shown the rooms occupied by Washington Irving when he “succeeded to Boabdil,” and became an inhabitant of the Alhambra; but the Alhambra is a thing to be seen, and not described. They visited the Royal Chapel, the fortress, and for two days they were busy as bees, though one day was enough to satisfy most of the students.
On the third day of their sojourn at the Alhambra, the doctor’s party visited the Generalife. The name means “The Garden of the Architect,” who was probably an employee of the king; but the palace was purchased and used as a pleasure-house by one of the kings. The sword of Boabdil is shown here. The gardens, which are about all the visitor sees, are more quaint than beautiful. The walks are hedged in with box, and the cypress-trees are trimmed in square blocks, as in the gardens of Versailles. Passing through these, the visitor ascends a tower on a hill, which commands a magnificent view of Granada and the surrounding country.
The abundance of water in and around the Alhambra attracts the attention of the tourist. The walks have a stream trickling down the hill on each side. It comes from the snow-crowned Sierra Nevadas; and, the warmer the weather, the faster do the ice and snow melt, and the greater is the flow of the water. In the Alhambra and in the Generalife these streams of water are to be met at almost every point.
One day was given to the city of Granada, though the visitor cares but little for any thing but the Alhambra. Without mentioning what may be seen in the cathedral in detail, there is one sight there which is almost worth the pilgrimage to the city; and that is the tomb of Ferdinand and Isabella. Dr. Winstock ordered a carriage for the purpose of taking his charge to the church.
When the team appeared at the door of the hotel, the students were very much amused at its singular character; for it was a very handsome carriage, but it was drawn by mules. The harness was quite elaborate and elegant; yet to be drawn by these miserable mules seemed to some of the party to be almost a disgrace. But the doctor said that they had been highly honored, since they had been supplied with what was doubtless the finest turnout to be had. These mules were very large and handsome for their kind, and cost more money than the finest horses. After this explanation, they were satisfied to ride behind a pair of mules.
There are plenty of pictures and sculptures in the cathedral; but the party hastened to the royal chapel built by order of the sovereigns, which became their burial-place. The mausoleum is magnificent beyond description. It consists of two alabaster sepulchres in the centre of the chapel, on one of which are the forms of Ferdinand and Isabella, and on the other those of Crazy Jane and Philip, the parents of Charles V. But the lion of the place, to the students, was the vault below the chapel, to which they were conducted, down a narrow staircase of stone, by the attendant. On a low dais in the middle of the tomb were two very ordinary coffins, not differing from those in use in New England, except that they were strapped with iron bands.
“This one, marked ‘F,’ contains the remains of Ferdinand,” said the doctor, in a low tone. “The other has an ‘I’ upon it, and holds all that time has left of the mortal part of Isabella, whose patronage enabled Columbus to discover the New World.”
“Is it possible that the remains of Ferdinand and Isabella are in those coffins?” exclaimed Sheridan.
“There is not a doubt of the fact. Eight years ago the late queen of Spain visited Granada, and caused mass to be said for the souls of these sovereigns at the same altar used by them at the taking of the city. Some of the guides will tell you that these coffins were opened at this time, and the remains of the king and queen were found to be in an excellent state of preservation. I don’t know whether the statement is true or not.”
“Here are two other coffins just like them,” said Murray, as he turned to a sort of shelf that extended across the sides of the vault.
“They contain the remains of Crazy Jane and Philip her husband, both of whose effigies are introduced in the sculpture on the monuments in the chapel above,” replied the doctor. “The coffin of Philip is the very one that she carried about everywhere she went, and so often embraced in the transports of her grief. She is at rest now.”
Deeply impressed by what they had seen in the vault, which made the distant past more real to the young men, they returned to the chapel above. In the sacristy they saw the sword of Ferdinand, a very plain weapon, and his sceptre; but more interesting were the crown of silver gilt worn by Isabella, her prayer-book, and the chasuble, or priest’s vestment, embroidered by her.
The party next visited the Carthusian Monastery, just out of the city, which contains some exquisite marble-work and curious old frescos. On their return to the Alhambra, they gave some attention to the gypsies, who are a prominent feature of Granada, where they are colonized in greater numbers than at any other place in Spain, though they also abound in the vicinity of Seville. They live by themselves, on the side of a hill, outside of the city. The tourists crossed the Darro, which flows at the foot of the hill on which the Alhambra and Generalife stand. They found the gypsies lolling about in the sun, hardly disturbed by the advent of the visitors. They seem to lead a vagabond life at home as well as abroad. They were of an olive complexion, very dirty, and very indolent. Some of the young girls were pretty, but most of the women were as disagreeable as possible. The men work at various trades; but the reputation of all of them for honesty is bad. They do not live in houses, but in caverns in the rocks of which the hill is composed. They are not natural caverns, but are excavated for dwellings.
The doctor led the party into one of them. It was lighted only by the door; but there was a hole in the top for the escape of the smoke. There was a bed in a corner, under which reposed three pigs, while a lot of hens were picking up crumbs thrown to them by a couple of half-naked children. It was the proper habitation of the pigs, rather than the human beings. The onslaughts of the beggars were so savage that the visitors were compelled to beat a hasty retreat. The women teased the surgeon to enter their grottos in order to get the fee.
In the evening some British officers from “Gib,” as they always call the great fortress, had a gypsy dance at the Siete Suelos. The doctor and his pupils were invited to attend. There were two men dressed in full Spanish costume, and three girls, also in costume, one of whom was quite pretty. One of the men was the captain of the gypsies, and played the guitar with marvellous skill, an exhibition of which he gave the party. There was nothing graceful about the dancing: it was simply peculiar, with a curious jerking of the hips. At times the dancers indulged in a wild song. When the show was finished, the gypsy girls made an energetic demonstration on the audience for money, and must have collected a considerable sum from the officers, for they used all the arts of the coquette.
Just at dark a small funeral procession passed the hotel. It was preceded by half a dozen men bearing great candles lighted. The coffin was borne on the shoulders of four more, and was highly ornamented. The funeral party were singing or chanting, but so irreverently that the whole affair seemed more like a frolic than a funeral.
“That is a gay-looking coffin,” said Murray to Mariano Ramos, the best guide and courier in Spain, who had been in the employ of the principal since the squadron arrived at Malaga.
“That is all for show,” laughed Mariano. “The men will bring it back with them.”
“Don’t they bury the dead man in it?”
“No: that would make it too expensive for poor folks. They tumble the dead into a rough box, or bury him without any thing.”
The next morning the excursionists started for Cordova, and arrived late at night, going by the same route they had taken to Granada as far as Bobadilla.