No description can convey to the reader any just idea of the Alhambra of Granada; nor is it merely the courts, and halls, and fountains, that excite the interest of the traveller: with every one of these, there is some historic and romantic association; and he that would fully enjoy the hours, or days, spent among these splendid tokens of the Moorish empire, must prepare himself by a perusal of that delightful work, “the Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada.” He will there find a thousand stirring, romantic, or affecting pictures, peopling the Alhambra with recollections—interesting, as human passions and human affections can make them; and if they be not as vivid as they are interesting, the fault will be in himself, and not in the writer, who with so graphic a pen has sketched the scenes from which they are drawn. I spent the morning of several days wandering over the Alhambra, and found no diminution in the interest awakened by these majestic remains. I did not forget to visit the postern gate through which Boabdil el Chico went forth to surrender his empire, and which he requested might be closed up, that no one might enter or pass out by the same gate. Accident has now sealed the request of the Moorish king, for the entrance is closed up with stones.[C]
The finest point of view in the neighbourhood of Granada, is not from the Alhambra; because the view must be imperfect, unless the Alhambra be itself one of the features. The chapel of St. Michael, upon the opposite height, is the spot to be attained; and to this little excursion, I devoted a morning. The hill upon which the chapel stands, is one labyrinth of aloes and Indian fig, which form an impenetrable thicket, unless where the zig-zag path is cut; and of so sturdy a growth are these, that the prospect towards the city and the Vega is entirely shut out. But this mount is curious and interesting on another account: every ten or twelve yards, you pass the exit of a narrow path cut through the aloes, and leading, a few yards forward, to the door, or rather the mouth of a hovel, excavated in the face of the hill. These habitations are tenanted by the very lowest of the population, as may well be believed; and I counted a hundred and forty of them. I requested permission to enter one, at the door of which, a young woman in rags, sat spinning flax; she told me that her husband was out with his gun seeking rabbits, and the only other inmate of the hovel, was a child, asleep upon a mattress on the ground. I saw no furniture, excepting two stools and this mattress, and the light found its way in, and the smoke its way out, at the entrance, to which there was no door; but the woman said, that before winter, they meant to supply this want; and that they also intended to construct a chimney, or, at least, a hole by which the smoke might escape. I noticed that some of the other hovels had chimneys, but I saw no one with a door. I was not sorry, when, after many times losing my way in this labyrinth, set upon by fierce hungry dogs, and meeting many suspicious-looking persons, I gained the summit of the mount, and an open space where I could see around me. The view was superb: in front stood the old Moorish town—on the left, lay the ravine of the Daro—and beyond it, the whole range of the Alhambra, with its towers, and walls, and arches, and pillars, and the rocky ridge upon which it stands, beautifully shaded and coloured by the woods, over which late autumn had thrown his rich and nameless tints: still higher, stood the Xeneralife; and above this range, the dark defiles and snowy summits of the Sierra, towered into the serene skies. The view was of a different character, looking towards the west: Stretching from the foot of the Alhambra, lay the city, with its many spires and towers, and all its groves and gardens; and still farther, was spread out the rich and fertile Vega, traversed by its winding rivers, and losing itself in the hazy distance. Not wishing to run the risk of losing myself again in the labyrinth of prickly pear, or to encounter the dogs—some of which owed me a grudge, for having threatened them with a stone—I succeeded in finding another road back to the city. In this walk, I could not but observe the remarkable changes of temperature to which Granada is subject.—Walking up the sunny side of the mount, I many times blessed the friendly shade of the prickly pear, and the enormous leaves of the aloe; so scorching was the sun; and yet, under the wall, on the shaded side of the mount, the hoar frost was lying; and this same evening, I found it so cold in the hotel, that I drank tea, and received some visitors in bed.
The second night I slept in Granada, I was awoke about midnight by an extraordinary confusion of sounds: bells from the seventy or eighty convents and churches, rung out an alarm; sometimes in discordant chorus, sometimes one ceasing, and another commencing—sometimes, after a moment of perfect silence, all again breaking into a general peal—trumpets, distant and near, filled up the intervals, or pierced shrilly through the crash of bells—and mingled with these sounds, were heard the roll of drums, the hurrying of footsteps, and the howling of dogs. Naturally supposing that all this must indicate something, I hastily dressed, and putting on my hat, hurried down stairs; but the master of the fonda stopped me at the door, telling me he could upon no account allow me to go out; the cause of the disturbance, he said, was a fire, and it would be extremely imprudent for a stranger to trust himself in the streets. Recollecting Malaga, I did not contend the point with him, but contented myself with looking from the window of my apartment. The noise still continued, and the fire not being speedily got under by human efforts, stronger measures were resorted to: the sound of bells and trumpets was exchanged for the song of monks. I heard the monotonous hum from several quarters; lights in long lines were seen approaching; and soon one procession, and then another, headed by a silver virgin, or a wooden saint, crossed the Plaza; and all the while, the streets were paraded by single friars, each tinkling a little bell, and crying aloud “Holy Mary! Blessed Virgin! save this city!” This proved effectual, for the fire was subdued before morning. I need scarcely add, that before these processions issue from the convents, a hint has been received, that the fire will speedily be got under,—and who can be surprised that the brethren of St. Francis, or St. Dominick, should seize so excellent an opportunity of publishing a miracle?
Among the objects most worthy of notice in Granada, the cathedral must not be passed over. I was already almost surfeited with marbles and gilding, and paid little attention to these; but there are some other things deserving of observation. Among them, the most remarkable and the most beautiful, are the Sarcophagi of Ferdinand and Isabella, the conquerors of Granada: which are of white marble,—sculptured with great taste and delicacy. The sword and sceptre of these illustrious personages, are preserved in the sacristy. I observed a curious notice affixed to every conspicuous part of the walls, forbidding any man to speak to a woman within the cathedral under the pain of excommunication, and the penalty of two ducats, to be given to holy purposes; thus making good spring out of evil. There were formerly some good pictures in the cathedral, but they did not escape the rapacity of the French.
The convents of Granada are not distinguished for their pictures; but the admirer of fine marbles will find nothing in the Escurial equal to the marbles that adorn some of the convents of this city. I visited four of the convents—the Dominicans, the Hieronomites, Juan de Dios, and the Carthusians. The Dominican convent is remarkable as the depository of a piece of marble found in the Sierra Nevada, upon which is distinctly represented the flight into Egypt; or at all events, a pictorial resemblance of the objects which are generally selected by the painter to illustrate this piece of history: the marble is in so elevated a situation, that suspecting some deception, I obtained a ladder, and examined it closely; but I found that the friar had not deceived me. Juan de Dios contains, besides much fine marble and innumerable relics, the real body of John of God. The urn was formerly placed within a dome of pure silver, supported by silver pillars, but the French carried off these, and a wooden temple has been substituted: it is somewhat curious that the French should have respected the saint so much as to leave the silver urn in which his body is contained. Judging however, by the order which he has instituted, the memory of John of God is entitled to veneration. The monks of this order do not spend their lives in sloth, but devote them to the succour of the wretched: there is always an hospital attached to a convent of this order. The Carthusian convent of Granada is one of the most splendid, and one of the richest in Spain: its revenues are immense; and being inhabited by only eleven monks, who live on fish and fruits, the convent treasury must be well stored. The marbles of this convent are beyond price; and all the doors and the panels round the sacristy are mosaic of mother-of-pearl, ivory, ebony, and tortoise-shell. They have some pictures, said to be from the hand of Murillo; but this I disbelieve.
It is said, that formerly five thousand poor were fed daily in Granada by the archbishop and by the convents: at present, however, only four of the convents supply the needy; but the archbishop gives all that he can spare. His revenues, which formerly amounted to one hundred thousand dollars, do not now exceed forty thousand. I went one morning to the archepiscopal residence, to obtain an order to see a country-house belonging to this dignitary; but he was in bed, unwell; and while the majordomo was sent for, I entered at one of the doors opening from the yard, and found myself in the kitchen. Four dishes were preparing for his lordship’s breakfast;—a white soup, a stew of pigeons, pig’s feet, and stewed cellery—which, with dessert and wine, was a tolerable breakfast for a sick archbishop.
Among the letters which I carried with me to Granada, one was addressed to General O’Lowlor, Lieutenant-Governor of the province, and Commissioner for the Duke of Wellington, in the management of his Grace’s estates in this neighbourhood. From Gen. O’Lowlor I obtained accurate information respecting the state of agriculture in the Vega of Granada, as well as regarding the property of the Duke of Wellington; and I have great pleasure in recording my acknowledgments to this gentleman, for the many kind and polite attentions which I received from him.
The following is the usual rotation of crops in the Vega of Granada. After the land has been fully manured, hemp is put in; and two, or sometimes three crops of wheat, according to the nature of the land, are taken in the same year: a crop of flax, and a crop of Indian corn follow the next year, and beans and Indian corn are taken the third year. For this last crop the land is half manured; and then it is fully manured for the hemp, to begin the next rotation. The hemp is considered necessary to prepare the land for wheat, which otherwise would come up too strong after the manure. This is the rotation on land which is subjected to the process of irrigation.
Agriculture, in the best parts of Spain, is not in a flourishing condition; agricultural produce of every kind, the value of land and rents, have all fallen. Ten years ago, land in the Vega of Granada was worth from fifty to a hundred dollars per acre: at present, it does not average above sixteen. Wheat sold, ten years ago, at three dollars the fanega; now, it does not average, year by year, more than one dollar and a half. Rents are of course fallen in proportion; and low as rents are, they are difficult to be recovered. Upon the lands which are not capable of being irrigated, the crops are extremely precarious; and where a money-rent is required, it is next to impossible to find a cultivator for the land. As a remedy for this, proprietors of high lands are contented to receive a certain proportion of the crop—generally a fifth; and upon land subject to irrigation, a tenant is willing to pay one fourth part of the produce. Land, generally, in the Vega of Granada, returns four per cent., taxes paid; but a considerable quantity returns as much as six per cent. The return from land under tillage, is greater than that from meadow land.
The estates belonging to the Duke of Wellington, lie in the lower part of the Vega, about two leagues from Granada; and all the land is capable of irrigation. His Grace’s estates return about fifteen thousand dollars per annum; his rents are paid in grain—a fixed quantity, not a proportion of the crop; a plan beginning to be pretty universally followed by other land-owners. The Duke has three hundred tenants, from which it appears that very small farms are held in the Vega of Granada; for if the whole rental be divided by three hundred, the average rent of the possessions will be but fifty dollars each. The tenants upon the Duke’s estate are thriving; they pay no taxes; and these estates are exempt from many of the heavy burthens thrown upon land. A composition of six per cent. is accepted from the Duke of Wellington, in lieu of all demands.