As to diversions, Malaga offers but few resources. Those who like boating may go out daily along the beautiful coast; but the rides are few, the ground hard and dusty, and the "rivière à sec," like that at Nice, must be traversed before any mountain expeditions could be reached. There is a bull-ring, as in every Spanish town, and occasionally the additional excitement of elephants being used in the fights: but the bulls will rarely face them.
After about a month, therefore, spent in this quiet little place, it was decided to start for Granada, which promised to afford greater interest and variety.
Granada.
Taking leave rather sorrowfully of their many kind friends, and of the sisters of charity who had been their constant companions during their stay in Malaga, our travellers started one stormy evening, and found themselves once more cooped up in one of those terrible diligences, and slowly ascending the mountains at the back of the town. Their intention had been to go on horseback, riding by Velez-Malaga and the baths of Alhama; but the late heavy rains had converted the mountain streams into torrents, and some of the party who attempted it were compelled to return. After ascending for about three hours, leaving on their left the picturesque cemetery, with its fine cypresses, they came to a plateau 3000 feet above the sea, from whence they had a magnificent view, the whole of Malaga and its bay being stretched out at their feet, the lights glistening in the town, and the moon, breaking through the clouds, shedding a soft light over the sea-line, which was covered with tiny fishing-vessels. Beautiful aloes and cacti starting out of the bold rocks on either side formed the foreground, while a rapid river rushed and tumbled in the gorge below. But with this fine panoramic view the enjoyment of our travellers came to an end. When night came on, and they had reached the highest and loneliest part of the bleak sierra, it began to pour with rain and blow a regular gale; the heavy mud was dashed into their faces; the icy cold wind whistled through the broken panes and under the floor of the carriage, and froze them to the bone. There was some difficulty about a relay of mules at the next stage, and so our party were left on an exposed part of the road without drivers or beasts for more than an hour. Altogether, it was impossible to conceive a more disagreeable journey; and it was therefore with intense joy that they found themselves, after sixteen hours of imprisonment, at last released, and once more able to stretch their legs in the Alameda of Granada. Tired, hungry, dirty, and cold, a fresh disappointment here awaited them. All the hotels were full (their letters ordering rooms had miscarried), and only one tiny bedroom could be found in which they could take refuge, and scrape the mud off their clothes and hair. One of the party found her way to the cathedral; the rest held a council of war, and finally determined to try their fate at the new "Alhambra" hotel outside the town, where an apartment was to be had, the cold and wet of the season having deterred the usual visitors to this purely summer residence. They had every reason to congratulate themselves on this decision; for though the cold was certainly great, the snow hanging still on all the hills around, and the house being unprovided with any kind of fire-places or stoves, still the cleanliness and comfort of the whole amply compensated for these drawbacks, to say nothing of the immense advantage of being close to the Alhambra, that great object of attraction to every traveller who visits Granada. The way up to it is very picturesque, but very steep. After leaving the wretched, narrow, ill-paved streets, which dislocate almost every bone in your body when attempted on wheels, and passing by the Sala de la Audiencia and other fine public buildings, you arrive at an arched gateway, which at once brings you into a kind of public garden, planted with fine English elms, and abounding in walks and fountains and seats, and in which the paths and drives, in spite of their precipitous character, are carefully and beautifully kept by convict labor, under the superintendence of a body of park-keepers dressed in full Andalusian costume. The hotel is placed on the very crest of the hill, overlooking the magnificent range of snowy mountains to the right. To the left the first thing which strikes the eye is the Torre de Justicia. Over the outer horse-shoe arch is carved an open hand, upon the meaning of which the learned are divided; some saying it is an emblem of the power of God, others a talisman against the Evil Eye. Over the inner arch is sculptured a key, which typified the power of the Prophet over the gates of heaven and hell. A double gate protects this entrance, which no donkey may pass: in the recess is a very beautiful little picture, framed and glazed, of the Virgin and Child. Passing through this arch, you come to an open "plaza," out of which rise two towers; one has been bought by an Englishman, who has converted the lower part of it into his private residence. (Where shall we not find our ubiquitous country-men?) [Footnote 110]
[Footnote 110: This unexpected rencontre reminded one of our party of a similar surprise, some years ago, in the mountains of the Tyrol. She was riding with her husband, when they came on a very picturesque old "Schloss," in an out-of-the-way gorge of a mountain pass. Stopping to look at it, and pushing open a half-open door in what appeared to be only habitable part of the ruling, they came on a group of chubby-faced English children, sitting around a table in their white pinafores, eating an undeniably English tea; and were told by the nurse, in answer to their inquiries, that the present owner of this Austrian Schloss was a London tradesman, who brought his children over every year to spend the summer—a most sensible arrangement, as the healthy bright looks of his little ones testified.]
The other is called the Torre de la Vela, because on this watch-tower hangs the bell which gives warning to the irrigators in the vega below. The view from hence is the most enchanting thing possible, commanding the whole country. Below lies Granada with its towers and sparkling rivers, the Darro and the Xenil. Beyond stretches the beautiful rich "vega" (or plain), studded with villas and villages, and encircled by snowy mountains, with the Sierra of Albama on one side, and the Gorge of Loja on the other. Descending the tower, and standing again in the "plaza" below, you see opposite to you a large ruined Doric palace, a monument of the bad taste of Charles V., who pulled down a large portion of the Moorish building to erect this hideous edifice, which, like most other things in Spain, remains unfinished. Passing through a low door to the right, our travellers were perfectly dazzled at the beauty which suddenly burst upon them. It is impossible to conceive anything more exquisite than the Alhambra, of which no drawings, no Crystal Palace models, not even Washington Irving's poetical descriptions, give one the faintest idea. "J'essaie en vain de penser: je ne peux que sentir!" exclaimed the authoress of "Les Lettres d'Espagne" on entering; but the predominant feeling is one of regret for the Moors, whose dynasty produced such marvels of beauty and of art. Entering by the fish-pond "patio," and visiting first the Whispering Gallery, you pass through the Hall of the Ambassadors, and the Court of Lions, out of which lead the Hall of the Abencerrages, and that of Justice, with its two curious monuments and wonderful fretted roof, and then come to the gem of the whole, the private apartments of the Moorish kings, with the recessed bedroom of the king and queen, the boudoir and lovely latticed windows overlooking the beautiful little garden of Lindaraja (the violets and orange-blossoms of which scented the whole air), and the exquisite baths below. [Footnote 111] It is a thing to dream of, and exceeds every previous expectation. Again and again did our travellers return, and always discovered some fresh beauties. The governor resides in a modernized corner of the building, not far from the mosque, which has suffered from the bad taste of the Christian spoilers. He is not a good specimen of Spanish courtesy, as, in spite of letters of introduction from the highest quarters, it was with very great difficulty that our party were admitted to see anything beyond the portions of the building open to the general public. At last, however, he condescended to find the keys of the Tower of the Infantas, once the residence of the Moorish princesses whose tragical fate is so touchingly recorded by Washington Irving. It is a beautiful little cage, overlooking the ravine, with its fine aqueduct below, and rich in the delicate moresque carving of both ceilings and walls. Afterward, crossing a garden, they came to the gate by which Boabdil left his palace for the last time, and which was afterward, by his special request, walled up. The tower at this corner was mined and destroyed by the French. Our party then descended to a little mosque lately purchased by Colonel ——, and beautifully restored. This completed the circuit of the Alhambra, which is girdled with walls and towers of that rich red-brown hue which stands out so beautifully against the deep blue sky, but the greater portion of which was ruthlessly destroyed by Sebastiani, at the time of his occupation of Granada.
[Footnote 111: Few have described this enchanting palace as well as the French lady already quoted. She says, speaking of the feelings it calls forth: "J'aimerais autant étre broyée dans la gueule de ces jolis monstres qui ont des nez en noeud de oravate, appelés Lions par la grâce de Mahomet, que de te parier de l'Alhambra, tant cette description est difficile. Les murailles ne sont que guipures délicates et compilquées: les plus hardies stalactites ne peuvent donner une idée des coupoles. Le tout est une merveille, un travail d'abeilles ou de fées. Les sculptures sont d'une délicatesse ravissante, d'un goût parfait, d'une richesse qui vous fait songer à tout ce que les contes de fées vous décrivalent jadis à l'heureux àge où l'imagination a des ailes d'or. Hélas! la mienne n'a pius d'alle, elle est de plomb. Les Arabes n'employaient que quatre couleurs: le bleu, le rouge, le noir et l'or. Cette richesse, ces teintes vives, sont visibles encore partout. Enfin, mon ami, ce n'est point un palais ceci: c'est la ville d'un enchanteur!">[
The restoration of this matchless palace has been undertaken by the present queen, who has put it in the hands of a first-rate artist named Contreras; and this confidence has been well bestowed, for it is impossible to see work executed in a more perfect manner, so that it is very difficult to tell the old portions from the new. If he be spared to complete it, future generations will see the Alhambra restored very nearly to its pristine beauty. This gentleman makes exquisite models of different parts of the building, done to a scale, which are the most perfect miniature fac-similes possible of the different portions of this beautiful palace, and a most agreeable memento of a visit to it. Our travellers purchased several, and only regretted they had not chosen some of the same size, as they would make charming panels for a cabinet or screen.
In the afternoon, the party started to see the cathedral, escorted by the kind and good-natured dean, who engaged the venerable mother of the "Little Sisters of the Poor" to act as his interpreter, his Andalusian Spanish being utterly unintelligible to most of the party. The first feeling on entering is of unmixed disappointment. It is a pagan Greco-Roman building, very much what our London churches are which were erected in the time of the Georges. But it has one redeeming point—the Capilla de los Reyes, containing the wonderful monuments of Ferdinand and Isabella, and of Philip and Joan. The alabaster sepulchres of the former, wrought at Genoa by Peralta, are magnificent, both in design and execution. Isabella's statue is especially beautiful:
In questa forma
Passa la bella donna, e par che dorma.