Still, however, even in its improved condition, the future visitor must not go prepared to walk through stately courts and suites of magnificent apartments, else, like me, will he be sadly disappointed. The novelty in the style of architecture, the delicacy and variety of its enrichments, the tasteful patterns of its tesselated floors, and the laboured workmanship of its vaulted ceilings, constitute its chief merits, and are, I willingly admit, masterpieces of their respective kinds.
These have been so well and minutely described in Murphy’s work on the Moorish antiquities of Spain, that I shall confine my observations on the Royal Palace to the state in which I found it at the period of my last visit, in the autumn of 1833.
The female Cicero who, as aforesaid, was then charged with the exhibition of “the Lions,” happened to be one of those mechanical, dogmatical persons, who not only dislike, above all things, to leave the beaten track, but will insist upon regulating all tastes by their own. Finding, therefore, that she had laid down a “grand tour” of the premises from which nothing could persuade her to deviate, and had determined in her own mind the precise number of minutes that should be devoted to the admiration of each object, we requested she would save herself further trouble, and us annoyance, by leaving us to the guidance of Mateo Ximenes (a name rendered classic by the pen of Washington Irving), who, as a kind of Director General of English travellers in Granada, had attached himself to us in the capacity of fac totum.
Mateo being now, from the emoluments of his self-created appointment, one of the inhabitants de mas tomo[137] of the Alhambra; from his eloquent dissertations and learned disquisitions, an acknowledged dilettante and antiquary; and, as the “Minister of Grace and Justice” of most visitors, a person of considerable influence with the deputy governor of the palace, our conductress, on payment of certain dues, made not the least scruple of acceding to our proposal, giving Mateo, nevertheless, strict injunctions to have us constantly in sight, and to keep our hands from picking and stealing.
For our future visits we obtained a written permission from the commandant to make sketches, in virtue of which we were enabled to wander about wherever and as long as we pleased; a privilege which I would recommend all travellers to obtain immediately on their arrival at Granada, for, besides that this permit saves both trouble and expense, they will find no more delightful retreat during the heat of the day, than within the shaded courts and cool and airy halls of the Moorish palace.
The Patio de la Alberca, to which, following the Itinerary laid down by the Tia Manuela, I will first conduct my readers, is an oblong court, ornamented at the two ends with light colonnades, and having a long pool of water, or tank (Al Borkat, whence its name is derived), in the centre. Above, but a little retired from the northern arcade, the huge square tower of Comares rises to the height of 142 feet; and in it, on the level of and communicating with the court, is the grand hall of audience of the ambassador’s. This, however, being the principal show-room of the palace, I will, following the discreet example of our guide, keep in reserve, and proceed to the Hall of the Baths, into which a passage leads from the eastern side of the Patio de la Alberca.
Art seems to have exhausted itself in the embellishment and fitting up of this luxurious establishment. Its floors are laid with a mosaic of porcelain. Its walls, faced also with glazed tiles to a certain height, are finished upwards with the most elaborate moresques, moulded in stucco to correspond with the basement. The roof of the royal bathing apartment is arched with solid blocks of stone, bidding defiance to the sun’s rays, and is pierced with numerous starry apertures, admitting ventilation. The basins wherein the royal couple performed their ablutions are of white marble, and placed in separate alcoves, at the north end of the principal saloon. The windows open upon a garden without the palace walls, conveying perfumed breezes from its fragrant shrubs and orange trees to the epicurean bathers within.
Another apartment, communicating with the saloon of the royal baths, is called a concert room. Music room would, perhaps, be a more correct name for it, since I think it may be fairly doubted whether the Arabs ever cultivated music to such an extent as to warrant our using the term concert in speaking of it. Numerous Arabic ballads, some of considerable merit, have, it is true, been handed down to the present generation, and are yet chaunted by public singers in the east, but without the slightest attempt to attune either their voices or the instruments on which they sometimes strike an accompaniment.
The natives of Morocco, on the other hand, who may be considered as the “nearest of kin” to the Moors of Spain, have not the slightest notion of music. A diabolical noise, made by a zambomba[138] and a reed pipe, which not even a civilized dog can hear without howling, is the only attempt at a concert that I ever knew them to be guilty of executing. This discordant clamour appears, nevertheless, to afford them unalloyed satisfaction.
The court of the Lions, which, proceeding from the baths, is entered on its north side, is a rectangular peristyle, 100 feet long, (east and west) and 50 wide. The pillars are of white marble, extremely light and beautiful, and they support a fantastic but elegant series of arches, the superstructure of which is covered with an elaborate fretwork of stuccoed mouldings, representing moresques, and flowers, interspersed with sentences from the Koran, &c.