Between the Torres de los Picos and de las Damas is a little mihrab or oratory built on the wall. At the Reconquest it was appropriated to the private use of one Astasio de Bracamonte. Though it has undergone deplorable “restorations,” the kiblah or easterly niche and other indications of the Muslim rite can still be made out. Strangely enough, the portal is guarded by two Moorish lions brought from the old Mint—the injunctions of the Mohammedan religion being thus ignored in its own temple!

The parish church of Santa Maria, erected in 1581, occupies the site of the Mosque of which Al Khattíb appears to speak, writing of the deeds of Mohammed III. (1302-1309). “And among his great actions, the greatest and most remarkable was the construction of the great Mosque or Aljama of the Alhambra, with all that it contained of elegance and decoration, mosaics, and cements; as well as lamps of pure silver and other great marvels. In front of the Mosque were the baths, erected with the money levied from the Christians in his dominions. With the receipts from these baths the Mosque and its ministers were maintained.” The modern church is of brick, and contains nothing of note, except a Visigothic inscription, referring to the construction of three temples, dedicated to St. Stephen, St. John, and St. Vincent, in the years 594 and 607.

The Palace of Charles V.

The forlorn, roofless palace in the classical style, which seems so out of place amid these Oriental buildings, was begun by order of the Emperor Charles V. in 1538. It was never completed. The Flemish Cæsar’s intention seems to have been to establish a permanent residence here, whence he could contemplate the beauties of the Moorish palace. The building is a quadrangle of four façades, each seventeen metres high. The lower storey is of the Tuscan order, the upper, Ionic. Some of the marble portals are very fine. In the decoration appear allusions to the campaigns, on sea and land, directed by the Emperor, his motto, Plus oultre, and the emblem of the Golden Fleece.

The interior of the palace is occupied by an imposing circular court, with a gallery supported by thirty-two columns. The staircase is loftily designed, and altogether the palace, if it had been completed and built almost anywhere else, would have been a dignified memorial of Charles’s reign.

THE GENERALIFE

Across an ivy-draped ravine—a perfect study in green and red—the Palace of Recreations, the Generalife, overlooks the rugged walls of the Alhambra. The name is believed to have been derived from Jennatu-l’arif, “the garden of the architect.” The palace appears to have been built by a Moor called Omar, from whom it was purchased by the Sultan Abu-l-Walid. At the Reconquest it became the property of a renegade prince, Sidi Yahya, who adopted the name of Don Pedro de Granada, and whose descendants, the family of Campotejar, are to this day the actual owners.

The Generalife cannot be regarded as an important monument of Moorish architecture. Through the central court, which measures 48.70 by 12.80 metres, runs the conduit which irrigates the whole estate, and connects with the Acequia (or canal) de la Alhambra. The arcaded southern façade and the spacious hall adjoining have been altered in order to make a large vestibule. The arcade resembles that of the Court of the Fish-pond, and exhibits a poetical inscription declaring that Abu-l-Walid restored the palace in the year 1319.

The halls of the Generalife are of little interest in themselves, and contain several portraits of doubtful authenticity. Those of Ferdinand and Isabel, of Juana la Loca and her husband, and of the fourth wife of Philip II., are the most important. Among the portraits of the Granada family is one supposed to be that of Ben Hud Al Mutawakil, the rival of Al Ahmar, and ancestor of Sidi Yahya. This seems to be the portrait which English travellers persist in mistaking for that of Boabdil.

But if the palace is in no way remarkable, the gardens are a veritable bower of beauty and delight. Water bubbles up everywhere and moistens the roots of myrtles, cedars, and tall cypresses, the finest trees in all Spain. The legend of the Abencerrage discovered in dalliance with a Sultana, beneath one of these cypresses, is absolutely destitute of any sort of foundation. The nature of the spot—so eminently fitted for love and lovers’ trysts—may have suggested the story. But the garden is ill-kept, and many of the magnificent trees have been cut down.