Chapter III: Preface: To Second Edition (2)

greatest civilisation. If the superb remains of Moslem monuments in Spain; if the Mosque of Córdova, the Alcázar of Seville, and the Alhambra of Granada still bear inscriptions fondly vaunting the power and permanency of the dominion of the Moor; can the boast be derided as arrogant and vain? They were the outposts and frontiers of Islamism. The

Southern part of the Peninsula was the great battle-ground where the Gothic conquerors of the North, and the Moslem conquerors of the East, met and strove for mastery; the fiery courage of the Arab being at length subdued by the obstinate and persevering valour of the descendants of the subjects of Don Roderick. But century after century had passed away, and still they retained a hold upon the land.[4] A period had elapsed equal to that which has passed since England was subjugated by the Normans; and the descendants of Musa[5] and Taric might as little anticipate being forced into exile across the Straits traversed by their triumphant ancestors, as the descendants of Rollo and William may dream of being driven back to the shores of Normandy.

With all this, however, the Moslem empire in Spain was but

a brilliant exotic that took no fixed root in the soil it adorned. Severed from all their neighbours in the West by impassable barriers of faith and manners, and separated by seas and deserts from their kindred in the East, they remained an isolated people. Their whole existence was a prolonged and gallant struggle to maintain a foothold in a land usurped. The few relics of the miserable and proscribed race were ultimately expelled from the Peninsula, under the administration of the Duke of Lerma, during the reign of Philip III.--a measure which, by depriving Spain of a numerous and industrious population, inflicted a severe blow on her agriculture and commerce.

Never was the annihilation of a nation more complete. Where are they? The exiled remnant of a once powerful people became assimilated with the predatory hordes of Barbary and the desert southward. A few broken monuments are all that remain to bear witness to their power and dominion in Europe.

Such is the Alhambra; an epoch marking relic--a Moslem pile in the midst of a Christian land; an Oriental palace amidst the Gothic edifices of the West; an elegant memento of a brave, intelligent, and graceful people who conquered, ruled, and passed away.

L’Alhambra! l’Alhambra! palais que les Génies
Ont doré comme un rêve et rempli d’harmonies;
Forteresse aux créneaux festonnés et croulans,
Où l’on entend la nuit de magiques syllables,
Quand la lune, à travers les milles arceaux arabes,
Sème les murs de trèfles blancs!
_Les Orientales_, par _Victor Hugo_.

The Alhambra--the Acropolis of Granada--is, indeed, a pearl of great price in the estimation of all travellers, exciting in the breast of the stranger the most absorbing interest and concentrated devotion. To realise the full spell--the mystery and the magic of the Alhambra--one must live in the building by day and contemplate it--like the ruins of fair Melrose--by moonlight, when all is still. “Who can do justice,” says Washington Irving, “to a moonlight night in such a climate and in such a place! The temperature of an Andalusian midnight in summer is perfectly ethereal. We seem lifted up into

a purer atmosphere; there is a serenity of soul, a buoyancy of spirit, an elasticity of frame, that renders mere existence enjoyment. The effect of moonlight, too, on the Alhambra, has something like enchantment. Every rent and chasm of time, every mouldering tint and weather-stain disappears; the marble resumes its original whiteness; the long colonnades brighten in the moonbeams; the halls are illuminated with a softened radiance until the whole edifice reminds one of the enchanted palace of an Arabian tale.”

Art and nature have combined to render Granada, with its Alps, Plain, and Alhambra, one of those few places which surpass all previous conceptions. The town is built on the spurs of the hills, which rise on the south-east to their greatest altitude. The city overlooks the _Vega_, or Plain, and is about 2,500 feet above sea-level. This altitude, coupled with the snowy background, renders it a most delicious residence; the bosom of snow furnishing a never-failing supply of water for

irrigation. Accordingly, the _Vega_ supplies every vegetable production, and is a spot--said the Arabians themselves--superior in extent and fertility to the valley of Damascus.

The Alhambra is built on a crowning height that hangs over the River Darro; its long lines of walls and towers follow the curves and dips of the ground just as a consummate artist would have placed them; the wooded slopes, kept green by water-courses, are tenanted by nightingales, singing as if in pain at the tender scene of desolate beauty.

Granada, which, under the Moors, was populated by half-a-million inhabitants, knew no slow decline, but flourished until it toppled to its fall. The date of its ruin is 2nd January, 1492, when the banner of Castile first floated from the towers of the Alhambra. To the fatal influence of a beautiful woman--Isabel de Solis--may be attributed, in great part, the destruction of the Moslem cause. Isabel was the daughter of the Governor of Martos, a town of Andalusia to the north-west of Granada. In a foray by the Moors she was captured, and became the favourite Sultana of Abu-l-hasan, King of Granada. Her Moorish appellation is Zoraya--“Morning Star”--in allusion to her surpassing loveliness, on account of which Ayeshah, another wife and cousin of Abu-l-hasan, became jealous of her rival. This necessarily led to dissension; conspiracy was rampant, and the Moorish Court became separated into two parties. Of the most powerful families of Granada, the Zegris espoused the cause of Ayeshah; while the Beni Cerraj (Abencerrages) championed that of the “Morning Star.” In June, 1482, Abu-Abdillah (Boabdil), son of Ayeshah, dethroned Abu-l-hasan, his father. Thus the Moorish house was divided against itself at the very time when Castile and Aragon became united by the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella. On Boabdil’s defeat and capture at Lucena in 1483, the old king returned to Granada and was enthroned, but quickly abdicated in favour of his brother, Mohammed (XII.), called Ez-zaghal, the Valiant. Boabdil, later, was re-instated; but, becoming a mere instrument and vassal of Ferdinand, finally surrendered himself and his kingdom to the Christian king.

For the true character of Ferdinand consult Shakespeare, who understood all things--“who didst the stars and sunbeams know.” He describes Ferdinand, by the mouth of our eighth Henry’s ill-fated queen, Katharine of Aragon, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella:

“....Ferdinand,
My father, King of Spain, was reckon’d
The _wisest_ prince, that there had reign’d by many
A year before: ...”

Henry VIII., Act II.

And of Katharine’s qualities, King Henry, in all things else unrelenting, speaks in high terms:

“....Thou art, alone,--
If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,
Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,--
_The queen of earthly queens_.”

Henry VIII., Act II.

As to Queen Isabella, Ford is loud in her praise, regarding her as a pearl among women. She died, indeed, far from Granada, but desired to be buried here--in the Cathedral of Granada--the bright jewel of her crown. Isabella was the Elizabeth of Spain, the most effulgent star of an age which produced Ximenez, Columbus, and the Great Captain, all of whom rose to full growth under her smile, and withered at her death. She is one of the most faultless characters in history, one of the purest sovereigns who ever graced or dignified a throne; who, “in all her relations of queen, or woman,” was, in the words of Lord Bacon, “an honour to her sex, and the corner-stone of the greatness of Spain.” Then it was that Spain spread her wings over a wider sweep of empire, and extended her name of glory to the far antipodes. Then it was that her flag, on which the sun never set, was unfolded to the wonder and terror of Europe; while a New World, boundless, and richer than the dreams of avarice, was cast into her lap, discovered at the very moment when the Old World was becoming too confined for the outgrowth of the awakened intellect, enterprise, and ambition of mankind.

* * * * *

After receiving the keys of the fortress, Ferdinand remained for a few days in Granada, having entrusted the custody of the Alhambra to Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, Count of Tendilla.[6]

The fact is recorded in a Gothic inscription formerly placed over a cistern constructed at the command of that Governor, but now on a wall just within the “Gate of Justice.” The letters are incised upon a large marble tablet.

The following is a translation of the inscription:

“The most high, most Catholic, and most powerful lords, Don Fernando and Doña Isabel, our King and Queen, conquered by force of arms this Kingdom and city of Granada, which, after their highnesses had besieged it in person for a considerable time, was surrendered to them by the Moorish King, Muley Hasen, together with its Alhambra, and other fortresses, on the 2nd day of January, 1492. On the same day their highnesses appointed, as Governor and Captain-General of the same, Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, Count of Tendilla, their vassal, who, on their departure, was left in the Alhambra with 500 horse and 1,000 foot; and the Moors were ordered to remain in their houses and villages as they were before. The Count, by command of their highnesses, caused this cistern to be made.”

It will be seen, by the style of the Gothic lettering, that the inscription was cut in the last decade of the fifteenth century. Whether the count of Tendilla dug the well or only constructed the cistern remains a disputable point; it is not important; but what is by no means clear is the strange statement that the keys were surrendered by “Muley Hasen.” Upon the capture of Boabdil[7] at Lucena by the Count of Cabra, he was conducted to Córdova, where he was received with much honour by Ferdinand, after the manner, in modern times, of the reception of Schamyl at the Court of St. Petersburg. Thereafter, Boabdil became the instrument of the Christians, and was allowed to return to Granada, where such confusion reigned at this time, that there were always two, and sometimes three kings in the Moorish capital of Andalusia. The antagonism of old Muley Hasen, his son Boabdil, and the brother of Muley, Ez-Zaghal, “the Valiant,” all posing as kings at one time, probably hastened the overthrow of the Moorish power.

There is much uncertainty respecting the date of Muley Hasen’s death. Some authorities state that when he was dethroned by his son Boabdil, “he retired to Malaga.” Others say that the king could not survive the misfortunes that his son’s rebellion brought upon the kingdom, and “becoming blind and mad, soon afterwards died.” One account gives his death as occurring in September, 1484, without, however, adducing evidence in support. Is it not just possible then, that when Malaga fell, the old king was discovered and rode in Ferdinand’s train, to deliver the keys of Granada, as so plainly set forth in the Gothic inscription of the Count of Tendilla?

The circumstances which attended the growth of the Spanish nation, and the expulsion of the Moor, were necessarily productive of an over-zealous spirit--a spirit which is ever the inevitable consequence of subjugation in the name of heaven, and under the immediate influence of religious feeling. How, then, could it fail to manifest itself in the Spaniards, who, only by a war lasting seven centuries, recovered their own country from the hands of the Moslem--the bitterest foes of the Christian religion--usurpers who justified their violence by retorting the opprobrious epithet “Infidels” upon the natives? A contest, so fierce and abiding, must have inseparably connected, in the minds of the Spaniards, every idea of honour with orthodoxy, and all that is discreditable and odious, with dissent from their creed. Small wonder, then, need be expressed that the degradation of the Alhambra dates from the very day of the Castilian Conquest, on which the removal of Moslem symbols commenced. Have we not seen the same principles rampant in England at the time of the Reformation, and again, throughout Puritan times; although, in our own case, the unreasonable iconoclasts professed the same faith?

The grievous vandalism begun by Ferdinand and Isabella was carried on by their grandson, Charles V., who despoiled the palace, on an even more gigantic scale, of those artistic glories which he looked upon as “the ugly abominations of the Moor.” He attempted the impossible: he modernized and rebuilt portions of the Alhambra, put up heavy ceilings, blocked up old passages, or constructed new, and sought to convert the palace of an Oriental sybarite into a residence for a Western monarch. All was in vain: the last royal residents were Philip V. and his beautiful Queen, Elizabetta of Parma, early in the eighteenth century. Although great preparations were made for their reception, the stay of the sovereigns was but transient; and, after their departure, the place once more became desolate.

During the Peninsular War, when Granada was in the hands of the French, the Alhambra was garrisoned by their troops, and the palace was occasionally inhabited by the French commander. Washington Irving maintains that “with that enlightened taste which has ever distinguished the French nation--this monument of Moorish elegance and grandeur was rescued from the absolute ruin and desolation that were overwhelming it. The roofs were repaired, the saloons and galleries protected from the weather, the gardens cultivated, the water-courses restored, the fountains once more made to throw up their sparkling showers; and Spain may thank her invaders for having preserved to her the most beautiful and interesting of her historical monuments.... On the departure of the French, _they blew up several towers of the outer wall, and left the fortifications untenable_,” &c. This last act may well have been one of military exigence; but, on the other hand, Ford entirely disagrees with Irving, and asserts, with all the vigour of an extinct species of Tory John Bull, that the French are responsible for the most wanton destruction perpetrated during their occupancy. Whatever the truth may be, we confess to a strong fellow-feeling with the kindly American genius who has done so much to retard the decay of the edifice, which is still preserved to adorn the land, and attract the curious of every clime.

For centuries the antiquities of the Spanish Arabs continued disregarded or unknown. Prejudice--that sad inheritance of nations--was, alas! only too actively employed in demolishing the work of the polished and enlightened people, whose occupation of the Peninsula it was accounted piety to efface. It was not until the end of the eighteenth century that steps were taken to explore and protect the remains of Moorish monuments in Spain; when, in consequence of representations of cultured Spaniards, the Government commissioned the Royal Academy of St. Ferdinand to send two architects and an officer of Engineers to report upon the condition, and make drawings of the Palace of the Alhambra and the Mosque at Córdova. The result of their labours was published at Madrid, 1780, in an illustrated folio volume entitled _Antigüedades Arabes de España_.

It is only by the union of the graphic art with descriptions that we can hope to form an accurate estimate of the high state of excellence to which the Mohammedans in Spain attained in the Fine Arts while the rest of Europe was overwhelmed with ignorance and barbarism. The coin, for instance, represented on the opposite page is of fine gold, and is an example of art which would not dishonour a medallist of any epoch. The existence of a Royal Mint within the Alhambra may be admitted when we learn that the coin was struck by order of the Founder of the Alhambra, Mohammed I., surnamed _Al-Ghalib-Billah_--the Conqueror--who reigned in Granada from 1232 to 1272 A.D. The coin is one of the most cherished possessions in the cabinet of Alfonso XIII., King of Spain, at Madrid.

DESCRIPTION.

_Obverse_: Within the square, an Arabic inscription which reads: “_In the name of God, the Merciful, the Forgiving. The blessing of God on Mohammed and his family. There is no Conqueror but God._” On the segments of the circle surrounding the square we read: “_Your God is one God. There is no God but He, the Merciful, the Forgiving._”

_Reverse._ Within the square: “_There is no God, but God. Mohammed is the messenger of God. Al-mahdi, Prince of the people of Granada._” On the segments of the circle surrounding the square: “_The Commander of the Faithful, Al-Ghalib-Billah, Mohammed, Son of Yúsuf, Son of Nasr, whom God prosper_.”

Mohammed, the Founder of the Alhambra.

To Mohammed the First, the world is indebted for the beautiful and romantic Oriental monument, the Alhambra. This famous monarch was born in Arjou in the year of the Hegira 591 (A.D. 1195), of the noble family of the Beni Nasr, or children of Nasr, and no pains were spared by his parents to fit him for the high station to which the opulence and dignity of his family entitled him. When he reached manhood he was appointed alcayde, or governor of Arjou and Jaen, and gained great popularity by his benignity and justice. Some years afterwards, on the death of Abou Hud, the Moorish power in Spain was broken into factions, and many places declared for Mohammed. Being of a sanguine spirit and lofty ambition, he turned the opportunity to his own purpose, made a progress through the country, and was everywhere received with acclamations. In the year 1232 he entered Granada, and was proclaimed king with every demonstration of joy. Shortly afterwards he became the head of the Moslems in Spain, being the second of the illustrious line of Beni Nasr to sit upon the throne. His reign was such as to render him a blessing to his subjects. He gave the command of his various cities to those who had distinguished themselves by valour and prudence, and had recommended themselves most acceptable to the people. He erected hospitals for the blind, the aged and infirm, and all those incapable of labour, visiting the asylums frequently--not on set days, with pomp and form, so as to give time for everything to be put in order, and every abuse concealed, but suddenly and unexpectedly, informing himself, by actual observation and close enquiry, of the treatment of the sick, and the conduct of those appointed to administer to their relief. He founded schools and colleges, which he visited in the same manner, inspecting personally the instruction of youth. He introduced abundant streams of water into the city, erecting baths and fountains, and constructing aqueducts and canals to irrigate and fertilize the _Vega_. By these means prosperity and abundance prevailed in this beautiful city, its gates were thronged with commerce, and its warehouses filled with luxuries and merchandise of every country.

While Mohammed was ruling his fair dominions thus wisely and prosperously, he was suddenly menaced with the horrors of war. The Christians, profiting by the dismemberment of the Moslem power, were rapidly regaining their ancient territories. James the Conqueror had subjected all Valencia, and Ferdinand the Saint was carrying his victorious arms into Andalusia. The latter invested the city of Jaen, and swore not to strike his camp until he had gained possession of the place. Mohammed was conscious of the insufficiency of his means to carry on a war with the potent sovereign of Castile. Taking a sudden resolution, therefore, he repaired privately to the Christian camp, and made his unexpected appearance in the presence of King Ferdinand.

“In me,” said he, “you behold Mohammed, king of Granada. I confide in your good faith, and put myself under your protection. Take all I possess, and receive me as your vassal.” So saying, he knelt, and kissed the king’s hand in token of submission. Ferdinand, touched by this instance of confiding faith, determined not to be outdone in generosity. He raised his late rival from the earth, and embraced him as a friend, leaving him sovereign in Granada, on condition of paying a yearly tribute, attending the Cortes as one of the nobles of the empire, and serving him in war with a certain number of horsemen.

It was not long after this that Mohammed was called upon for his military services, to aid King Ferdinand in the siege of Seville. The Moorish king sallied forth with 500 chosen horsemen of Granada, than whom none in the world knew better how to manage a steed or wield the lance. It was a humiliating service, however, to draw the sword against brethren of the faith.

Mohammed gained but a melancholy distinction by his prowess in this renowned campaign, but achieved more true honour by the humane methods which he prevailed upon Ferdinand to introduce into the usages of war. When, in 1428, the famous city of Seville surrendered to the Castilian monarch, Mohammed returned sad, and full of care, to his dominions. He saw the gathering ills that menaced the Moslem cause, and uttered the ejaculation, often used by him in moments of anxiety and trouble: “_Que angosta y miserabile seria nuestra vida, sino fuera tan dilatada y espaciosa nuestra esperanza!_”--How straitened and wretched would be our lives if our hope were not so spacious and extensive!

Sad and dispirited, the conqueror approached his beloved Granada. The people thronged the streets with impatient joy: like to another Coriolanus, “the dumb men flocked to see him, and the blind to hear him speak;” for they loved him as a benefactor. Arches of triumph were erected in his honour; and as he passed he was hailed with acclamations as _Al Ghalib_, or the Conqueror. Mohammed shook his head when he heard the appellation.

“_Wa la ghalib ila Alá!_” exclaimed he--There is no conqueror but God! From that time forward he adopted the exclamation as a motto. He inscribed it on an oblique band--in heraldry, a Bend--across his escutcheon, and it continued to be the motto of his descendants.

Mohammed had purchased peace by submission to the Christians; but he knew that where the elements were so discordant, and the motives for hostility so deep and ancient, it could not be secure or permanent. Acting, therefore, upon an old maxim, “Arm thyself in peace, and clothe thyself in Summer,” he improved the interval of tranquillity by fortifying his dominions, by replenishing his arsenals, and by promoting those useful arts which give wealth and real power to an empire.

He gave premiums and privileges to the best artisans, improved the breed of horses and other domestic animals, encouraged husbandry, and increased the fertility of the soil two-fold by his protection, making the lovely valleys of his kingdom to bloom like gardens. He fostered, also, the growth and fabrication of silk, until the looms of Granada surpassed even those of Syria in the fineness and beauty of their productions. He caused the prolific mines of gold and silver, and other metals of the mountainous regions of his dominions, to be diligently worked, and was the first King of Granada who, as we have seen, struck money with his name, taking great care, moreover, that the coins should be skilfully executed.

It was about this time, towards the middle of the thirteenth century, and just after his return from the siege of Seville (1248), that Mohammed commenced the splendid Palace of the Alhambra, superintending the building of it in person, mingling frequently amongst the artists and workmen, and directing their labour. He stored the gardens with the rarest plants, and with the most beautiful aromatic shrubs and flowers. Amid these scenes he delighted in reading histories, or in causing them to be related to him; and sometimes, in intervals of leisure, employed himself in the instruction of his three sons, for whom he had provided the most learned and virtuous masters. Mohammed ever remained loyal to Ferdinand, giving him repeated proofs of fidelity and attachment. When that renowned monarch died at Seville in 1254, Mohammed sent ambassadors to condole with his successor, Alonzo X., and with them a gallant train of Moorish cavaliers of distinguished rank to attend the obsequies. This grand testimony of respect was repeated by the Moslem monarch during the remainder of his life on each anniversary of the death of King Fernando el Santo, when a hundred Moorish knights repaired to Seville, and took their stations with lighted tapers in the Cathedral, around the tomb of the illustrious deceased.

Mohammed retained his vigour to an advanced age. In his seventy-ninth year he took the field on horseback, accompanied by the flower of his chivalry, to resist an invasion. As the army sallied forth from Granada, one of the _adalides_, or guides, who rode in the advance, accidentally shivered his lance against the arch of the gate. The counsellors of the king, alarmed by the circumstance, which was considered an evil omen, entreated him to return. The king persisted, and at noontide the omen, say the Moorish chroniclers, was fatally fulfilled. Mohammed was suddenly seen to fall from his horse. He was placed on a litter and borne towards Granada, but his illness increased to such a degree that they were obliged to pitch his tent on the _Vega_. His physicians were filled with consternation, and in a few hours he died; the Castilian prince, Don Philip, brother of Alonzo X., being by his side when he expired. His body was embalmed, enclosed in a silver coffin, and buried in the Alhambra, in a sepulchre of precious marble, amidst the unfeigned lamentations of his subjects, who bewailed him as a parent.

Such was the enlightened prince who founded the Alhambra, whose name remains emblazoned amongst its most delicate and graceful ornaments, and whose memory is calculated to inspire the loftiest associations in those who tread these fading scenes of his magnificence and glory.

Abu-el-Hejaj (Yúsuf I.), King of Granada, 1333-1354, who completed the Alhambra.

In the royal Mosque, where the escutcheons of the Moorish kings hang side by side with those of the Castilian sovereigns--for the Mosque was, after the subjugation, consecrated as a Catholic chapel--perished the illustrious Yúsuf Abu-el-Hejaj, the high-minded prince who completed the Alhambra, and who, for his virtues and endowments, deserves almost equal renown with its magnanimous founder. Washington Irving was, perhaps, the first to draw forth, from the obscurity in which it had too long remained, the name of another of those princes of a departed and almost forgotten race, who reigned in elegance and splendour in Andalusia, when all Europe was in comparative barbarism.

To Yúsuf I. the Alhambra owes much of its splendour; he not only constructed the _Gate of Justice_ and the _Wine Gate_, leading into the Palace, as appears from the inscriptions over their respective archways; but he must also have built, or decorated, many of the interior apartments, for his name appears frequently in _The Hall of the Two Sisters_, in that of the _Baños_, in the _Court of the Fish-pond_, and in the _Hall of the Ambassadors_.

Yúsuf ascended the throne of Granada in 1333. He is said to have been of noble presence, possessing great bodily strength united to manly beauty. He had the courage common to all generous spirits, but his genius inclined more to peace than to war; and, though repeatedly obliged to take up arms, he was generally unfortunate. Amongst other ill-starred enterprises, he undertook a campaign in conjunction with the King of Morocco, against Castile and Portugal, but was defeated in the memorable battle of Salado; a reverse which nearly proved a death-blow to the Moslem power in Spain.

A long truce, after this defeat, enabled Yúsuf to devote himself to the instruction and improvement of his people. He established schools in the villages, with uniform systems of education; he obliged every hamlet of more than twelve houses to have a Mosque, and reformed abuses which had crept into the religious ceremonies and festivals of the people. The Alhambra was now completed. Yúsuf constructed the beautiful Gate of Justice, forming the grand entrance, which he finished in 1348. He likewise adorned many of the Courts and Halls of the Palace, as may be seen by the inscriptions in which his name repeatedly occurs. He built also the Alcázar, or Citadel of Malaga, of which, alas! only crumbling traces remain.

The genius of the sovereign stamps a character upon his time. The nobles of Granada, emulating the graceful taste of their monarch, filled the city with magnificent palaces, the halls of which were adorned with mosaics, the ceilings wrought in fretwork, and delicately gilded and painted, or inlaid with precious woods; they had lofty towers of wood or stone, carved and ornamented, and covered with plates of metal that glittered in the sun. So refined was the taste in decoration prevailing amongst this elegant people that, to use the simile of an Arabian writer, “Granada, in the days of Yúsuf, was as a silver vase filled with emeralds and jacynths.”

One anecdote will be sufficient to show the magnanimity of this generous prince. The long truce which succeeded the battle of Salado was at an end, and every effort of Yúsuf to renew it was in vain. His deadly foe, Alonzo XI. of Castile,

took the field with great force, and laid siege to Gibraltar. Yúsuf reluctantly took up arms, and sent troops to the relief of the place; when, in the midst of his anxiety, he received tidings that his dreaded foe had fallen a victim to the plague. Instead of manifesting exultation, Yúsuf called to mind the great qualities of the deceased monarch, and was touched with sorrow--“Alas!” cried he, “the world has lost one of its most excellent princes; a sovereign who knew how to honour merit, whether in friend or foe!” The Spanish chroniclers, themselves, bear witness to this magnanimity: according to their accounts, the Moorish cavaliers shared the sentiment of their king and put on mourning for the death of Alonzo. Even those Moors of Gibraltar, which had been so closely invested, when they learned that the hostile monarch lay dead in his camp, determined that no aggressive movement should be made against the Christians during the observance of his obsequies.

Upon the day on which the camp was broken up, and the army departed bearing the corpse of Alonzo, the Moors issued in multitudes from Gibraltar, and stood mute and melancholy, watching the mournful pageant. The same reverence for the deceased was observed on the frontiers by all the Moorish commanders, who suffered the funeral cortège to pass in safety with the body of the Christian sovereign, from Gibraltar to Seville.

Yúsuf did not long survive the enemy he had so generously deplored. In the year 1354, as he was one day at prayer in the royal Mosque of the Alhambra, a maniac suddenly rushed upon him and plunged a dagger in his side. The cries of the king brought his guards to his assistance: they found him in convulsions, weltering in his blood. He was borne to the royal apartments, and expired almost immediately. The assassin

was cut to pieces, and his limbs burnt in public, to gratify the fury of the populace.

The assassination of Yúsuf is described by an eye-witness in a letter addressed to Fárris, Sultán of Western Africa, which is printed by Pascual de Gayangos from the chronicle of Al-Makkarí--an elegant Moorish writer who flourished towards the end of the sixteenth century:--“As Abu-el-hejaj (Yúsuf) was performing the last prostration of his prayer, a madman rushed upon him and wounded him with a _khanjar_, or yataghán. The assassin was immediately secured. The Sultán, who had been mortally wounded, made some signs as if he wished to speak;

but, after uttering some unintelligible words, he was carried senseless to his apartments, where he shortly died. The assassin, meantime, was given up to the infuriated mob, who slew him and burned his body. The Sultán was interred within the Alhambra. He left three sons: Mohammed, who succeeded him; Isma’íl, and Kays.”

The body of Yúsuf was interred in a superb sepulchre of white marble; a long epitaph, in letters of gold upon an azure ground, recorded his virtues: “Here lies a king and martyr, of an illustrious line, gentle, learned and virtuous; renowned for the graces of his person and his manners, whose clemency, piety and benevolence were extolled throughout the kingdom of Granada. He was a great prince; an illustrious captain; a sharp sword of the Moslems; a valiant standard-bearer amongst the most potent monarchs.”

The Mosque, which once resounded with the dying cries of Yúsuf, still remains, but the monument which recorded his virtues has long since disappeared. His name, however, yet abides among the ornaments of the Alhambra, and will be perpetuated in connection with this renowned pile, which it was his pride and delight to adorn.

The Towers, Courts, and Halls of the Alhambra.

“As an Englishman approaches the Alhambra,” says Ford, “he rubs his eyes, for he finds himself in a park of real English elms. Delicious green roofs they form, but no more in keeping with the old Moorish Palace than Bolton Abbey would be with the Pyramids. But why English? Why; because this wood was the present of the Iron Duke, who had the estate of Soto de Roma, with its four thousand once pheasant-haunted acres given him reluctantly by the grateful Ferdinand VII., and who sent out these elms from England.”

The first feeling which strikes a visitor on entering the Alhambra is one of amazement to find himself suddenly transported to fairly-land. Arches bearing upon pillars so slender that the wonder is they are able to sustain the superincumbent weight--the style differing from all regular orders of architecture--ceilings and walls incrusted with fretwork so minute and intricate that the most patient draughtsman finds it difficult to follow. Yet, although the patterns present so great variety, the compotent parts are, in their origin, the same; and it is by changing the colours and juxtaposition of the several pieces that the astonishing diversity is produced. This exquisite Moorish work appears to have been accomplished by means of moulds applied successively, the continuity of the design being preserved with greatest care. Amidst or around the complex forms are constantly disposed Arabic sentences of moral and religious tendency, the most oft-repeated homily being, “Wa la ghálib ila Alá,” that is, “There is no conqueror but God:” the sentence being sometimes enclosed within Cufic characters written twice, and forming the words signifying “Grace,” and “Blessing,” the letters so curiously interwoven that the text may be read from left to right, and from right to left.

PUERTA DE JUSTICIA--THE GATE OF JUSTICE.

The Gate of Justice has ever been the principal entrance into the fortress. Like all the other towers of the Alhambra, it is built of concrete, the jambs of the doorway being of white marble, and the elegant horseshoe arch and spandrils of brick.

The Gate of Justice was erected in 1338 by the Sultán Yúsuf, and was so called because (in accordance with ancient practice all over the East) the Kings of Granada occasionally sat under it to administer justice to every class of their subjects. The hand and key, which are seen in relievo upon the stone, have given rise to a variety of conjectures, more or less plausible.

The quaint open hand, carved over the outer arch, has a talismanic and Arabian Nights effect. Some authorities say it typifies the hand of God, the symbol of power and providence; others suppose it to be a type of the five commandments of Islam--to fast; to give alms; to smite the infidel; to make the pilgrimage to Mecca; and to perform purifications. But it is, in all likelihood, the old Roman talisman against the Evil Eye, such as we see in coral on Neapolitan lockets. The Evil Eye is especially dreaded by Orientals, and the Spaniards tremble at its influence even now.[8]

Over the inner arch is a sculptured key: there was an old legend believed in through the centuries anterior to the Expulsion, that the Christians would never take the “red castle” until the outer hand had grasped the inner key. It was also agreed that the key was an emblem of the Prophet’s power to open the gates of hell or heaven. The truth is, that the key was an old Cufic emblem, intimating Allah’s power to open the hearts of true believers. It was also a badge on the Almohades’ banners, and is seen in many Moorish castles.

Washington Irving says of these strange symbols: “According to tradition, the hand and key were magical devices on which the fate of the Alhambra depended. The Moorish king who built it was a great magician, or, as some believed, had sold himself to the devil, and had laid the whole fortress under an evil spell. By this means it had remained standing for several hundred years, in defiance of storms and earthquakes, whilst almost all other buildings of the Moors had fallen to ruin and disappeared. This spell, the tradition went on to say, would last until the hand on the outer arch should reach down and grasp the key, when the whole pile would tumble to pieces, and all the treasures buried beneath it by the Moors would be revealed.”

SALA DEL TRIBUNAL--HALL OF JUSTICE.

The Hall of Justice has three court-rooms, or apses, now blazoned with the royal Spanish badges of the yoke and the bundle of arrows, familiar to us as the badge of Katharine of Aragon, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, the first queen of our much-married monarch, Henry VIII.

Of the many beautiful arches which adorn the Palace, the one forming the entrance to the central alcove, or divan, of the Hall of Justice is perhaps the most remarkable; the exquisite form of the arch and richly-ornamented spandril with the poetic inscription which encloses it--“May power everlasting and imperishable glory be the destiny of the owner of this Palace”--and the slender porcelaine columns from which it springs, exciting the deepest admiration.

In this Hall are the famous paintings on leather, ascribed to the end of the fourteenth century. The painting of a group of Moslems, apparently congregated in Council, merits close attention, as giving the veritable costume of the Moors in Granada of the fourteenth century, at which period the delineations were certainly made, and, in all probability, by an Italian artist working under Moslem direction. Other paintings portray various chivalrous or amatory subjects; or they may be taken to represent romantic episodes as legendary as the story of the Chinese lovers on a willow-pattern plate. One scene (see p. 47) represents a wicked magician, or wild man of the woods,

coercing a Christian maiden, who, nevertheless, is holding a docile lion by a leading chain; the compliant animal meanwhile permitting domestic fowl and other pretty wantons to play undismayed around him. A Christian warrior on horseback makes short work of the wild man; but, alas! for the maiden, a valiant Moor comes galloping up, at once transfixes the Christian rescuer with his spear, and presumably claims the beautiful captive as the reward of his prowess. This episode of a Moor killing a Christian may be taken as a strong presumption of the paintings being wrought under Mohammedan influence, as it appears most unlikely that it would have been so represented by a Spaniard after the conquest of Granada. Some spectators in the upper chamber of a tower in the background seem to heartily approve of the whole proceeding.

However fantastic these pictures may be, they are at least unique, and, as such, must be regarded with the utmost interest. We may conjecture that the painter fell into the hands of the Moors by the fortune of war; or, on the other hand, came by invitation to Granada.

Much difference of opinion exists amongst writers who have described the Alhambra with respect to these three curious paintings on leather which are found in the domes of the alcoves of the Hall of Justice. It is said by many that they are not the work of Moorish artists, but were executed posterior to the Conquest of Granada by Spanish painters. This opinion is founded chiefly on the injunctions contained in the Korán, forbidding the representation of animated beings; but that this law was disregarded by the builders of the Alhambra is fully proved by the fountain of the Court of Lions, and the bas-relief which forms part of a fountain now in the Museum of the Palace.

There is evidently much more analogy between these paintings and the bas-relief than between them and the works of the Spaniards after the Expulsion; witness the bas-reliefs from the royal chapel of Granada, built by Ferdinand and Isabella, which represent their entrance into the Alhambra, and evidently belong to a later period of Art.

The ornaments, moreover, which are introduced into these paintings are strictly of a Moorish character.

The subject on the centre alcove is considered by the Spaniards to represent a Tribunal, whence they have called this Hall. From the different colours of the beards and dresses of the figures, they would appear to represent the chiefs of the

tribes of Granada. One head traced from this picture is given on page 48.

These paintings are of bright colours, but in flat tints, without shadow, and were first drawn in outline of a brown colour. They are painted on skins of animals sewn together, and nailed to the wooden dome; a fine coating of gypsum forming the surface to receive the painting. The ornaments on the gold ground are in relief.

PAINTING ON THE CEILING OF THE LEFT ALCOVE.

To determine whether the subject of this picture be legendary or historical is difficult. Christians appear to be engaged in hunting the lion and the bear, while the Moslems confine their attentions to the wild boar. The spoils of the chase are presented at the feet of both Christian and Moslem ladies--the humility with which the Christian knight, who is upon his knees, offers his share of the spoil to his lady, may be contrasted with the more commanding attitude of the Moslem, as finely exhibiting the estimation in which women were held by their respective nations. Many hounds--one of which has the luck to fall in with a stray fox--take part in the

(_From a tracing by M. Jules Goury, a celebrated French architect, from the painting representing a Moorish Tribunal._)]

chase, and the ladies are attended by lap-dogs. The huntsmen are on horseback and on foot. When the wild boar is slain, he is hoisted on the back of a mule by attendants, and borne triumphantly home. A great variety of birds and trees--amid the branches of which monkeys partially conceal themselves--make up the various scenes. In spite of the want of perspective, there is much spirit in the details, and the female figures especially are most graceful.

That these unique relics should be taken from their present

position and preserved under glass, is a consummation devoutly to be wished.

LAS DOS HERMANAS--THE TWO SISTERS.

Perhaps the most interesting, as it certainly is the loveliest apartment in this palace of enchantment, is the HALL OF THE TWO SISTERS, a title, the guide books would fain have us believe,

conferred by reason of two enormous slabs of white marble laid in the pavement, precisely alike in form, and without flaw or stain; but the surpassing splendour of this chamber forbids us to accept a reason so inadequate for the designation. There is nothing so very extraordinary in two huge blocks of stone, be they never so faultless; that is only a matter of quarrying: if such objects are to excite wonder, we may turn, with more profit, to the Pyramids of Egypt. Let us rather concern ourselves with the beauty and symmetry of this unequalled spot.

First, then, the gate of the tower exceeds all other gates in

profusion of ornament, and in the beauty of the prospect from the entrance through a range of apartments, where a multitude of arches terminate in a large window affording a view of open country. In sunshine, the variety of tints thrown upon this _enfilade_ are surprisingly beautiful. In all probability the Hall of The Two Sisters formed part of the private apartments of the Moorish kings. The alcoves, or divans, on either side of the Hall, with the charming retiring rooms on the upper floor, give it the character of a residence; just as the Hall of Ambassadors, as its aspect shows, and its traditional name implies, was destined only for public receptions. It may reasonably be declared that the Hall of The Two Sisters, together with the corridors and alcoves which surround it, cannot be equalled even by other parts of the Palace. Its stalactite ceilings are the most perfect examples remaining of this curious and interesting kind of decoration. To preserve them, the outer walls are raised ten feet above the dome, and support an encasing roof over all. Nothing can exceed the glory of the honeycomb vaultings, with thousands of fantastic cell formations, each one differing from the other, yet all combining in uniformity. The effect

is as if the architect had been assisted in his work by swarms of Brobdingnagian bees.

At the upper end of the Hall of The Two Sisters, but separated from it by a corridor, is an alcove, once overlooking a beautiful garden, as we learn from a verse in the room. It is known as The _Mirador_ or Balcony of “Lindaraja.” On this favoured spot the poets, painters, and architects of that day lavished their most exalted efforts. All the varieties of form and colour which adorn other portions of the Palace have here been blended with the happiest effect. The delighted observer is spell-bound, and finds it difficult to remove himself from the fascination of the place.

The lattice window of the upper story gives light to a corridor leading to apartments appropriated to the fair odalisques. It was through these lattices that the beauties of the hareem viewed

the splendid fêtes enacted for their entertainment in the great hall below, but in which they could participate only as distant spectators. These gratings are precisely similar in their construction to those which are now seen in the hareems of the East.

The long series of inscriptions in the Hall of The Two Sisters were much mutilated, and in some cases utterly destroyed, in a barbarous attempt at decoration--_rien n’est sacré pour un sapeur_--made by the Ayuntamiento of Granada in 1832, when the Infante, Don Francisco de Paula visited the city. Fortunately, so far as the text goes, the sentences may be found in _Antigüedades Arabes de España_.[9] The greatest pains have been expended upon the inscriptions which address themselves to the eye of the connoisseur by the beautiful forms of the characters; exercise his intellect by the effort of deciphering their curious and

complex involutions, and reward his imagination by the beauty of the sentiments and the music of their composition.

Many will be grateful to see some specimens of the verses from the Hall of The Two Sisters:--

“I am the garden, and every morn am I revealed in new beauty. Observe attentively how I am adorn’d, and thou wilt reap the benefit of a commentary on decoration;

“For, by Allah! the elegant structures around me assuredly surpass all other edifices by the happy presage attending their foundation.

“How many delightful prospects I enfold! Prospects, in the contemplation of which a mind enlightened finds the gratification of its desire.

“Look upon this wonderful cupola, at sight of whose perfection all other domes must pale and disappear;

“To which the Constellation of the Twins extends the hand of salutation; and, for communion, the Full Moon deserts her station in the heavens.

“Nay, more; were they to take these aisles for their abiding place, those heavenly bodies would render constant homage to their beauty.

“No wonder, then, if the stars grow pale in their high stations, and if a limit be put to the duration of their light.

“Here also behold the portico, unfolding every beauty. Indeed, had this palace no other ornament, it would still surpass the firmament in splendour:

“For manifold are the gorgeous habilaments in which thou, O Sultán! hast arrayed it, surpassing in brilliancy the lustrous robes of Yemen!

“To look at them, one would imagine them to be planets revolving in their orbits, and throwing into shade the sunburst of morning.

“Here are columns ornamented to absolute perfection; the beauty of which has become glorified: columns

“Which, when struck by the earliest beam celestial, may be likened, notwithstanding their vastness, to many blocks of pearl.

“Indeed, there is no palace more imposing in its elevation, nor so brilliantly decorated; nor having more extensive apartments;

“They may be compared to markets where the richest comers are overpaid in beauty, and where the arbiter of elegance presides eternally to pronounce his award;

“And where the sigh of the zephyr is inhaled by the noontide ray whose scintillating beam is more refulgent than all other light.

“Between myself and the most high fortune the closest relationship exists, and the greatest resemblance between us lies in the splendour of our destiny.

“Every art has laid its gifts upon me; nay, all have united in conferring perfection.

“By those who are permitted to behold me I am regarded as the Queen of Beauty who bestoweth the prize upon her well-beloved;

“Indeed, when the enraptured observer has feasted his eyes upon me, he will find reality surpassing the most extravagant flights of fancy;

“He will see the moon-beam start from my orbs, and its scintillation leave me only to enter the mansions of the blest.

“The palace is a palace of transparent crystal; it appears to be illimitable as the boundless ocean;

“And yet I am not the sole marvel of this heaven upon earth; for I overlook with ecstacy a garden, the like of which no human eye has contemplated.

“I was built by the Imam Ibn Nasr. May Allah uphold his majesty as a pattern to other kings!”

The last half-dozen verses, printed _supra_, are inscribed on the jambs of the doorway which gives entrance to the exquisite little chamber already described. The windows of the _Mirador_ still overlook the garden eulogised in the penultimate verse. The dado of the Hall of The Two Sisters is a most beautiful Mosaic, presenting the same general form on all four sides of the Hall, but differing considerably in the filling up of the patterns.

In the Hall of The Two Sisters formerly stood the famous Arab vase (_el jarro_) [see pp. 77 and 95] which tradition says was discovered in one of the subterranean chambers of the palace, “full of gold.” It is now placed in the Museum. The vase is of the fourteenth century, and is exquisitely enamelled in white, blue and gold. The decorations are Hispano-Moresque, and are fully described in the work on pottery by Peter Davillier. Another lovely amphora, is engraved in the Spanish work _Antigüedades Arabes de España_,[10] the equal, indeed, the companion

No. 1.

Ornament in panels on the Walls, Hall of the Ambassadors.]

No. 2.

Soffit of an arch, Court of the Fishpond.]

No. 3.

Ornament over doorway at the entrance, Court of the Lions.]

No. 4.

Ornament in doorway at the entrance to the Ventana, Hall of the Two Sisters.]

No. 5.

Ornament on the side of windows, upper story, Hall of the Two Sisters.]

No. 6.

Ornament in spandrils of arches, Hall of the Two Sisters.

No. 7.

Ornaments in spandrils of arches, Hall of the Abencerrages]

No. 8.

Ornaments in panels, Hall of the Ambassadors.]

No. 9.

Ornaments in panels, Court of the Mosque.]

to _el jarro_, formerly existed in the Palace, but it was unfortunately broken about the year 1837, and the pieces sold to a passing traveller. It is here figured from Murphy’s _Arabian Antiquities_, 1815.

The Hall of The Two Sisters fairly intoxicates one with the fragile yet imperishable beauty of the place. The eye soars upward, and flutters in and out of those flower-cup cells which seem the first creative types of some fresh world. Architects--Owen Jones amongst the number--inform us that the thing is very simple: it is a beauty put together by mere receipt proceeding from three primary figures--the right-angled triangle, the rectangle, and the isosceles triangle: capable of millions of combinations, just like the three primary colours, or the seven notes of the musical scale. “A simple receipt,” says an anonymous writer on the glories of the Alhambra; “but who, nowadays,

can cook anything like it?” The same writer goes on to say that in devising the Alhambra, the Moors were always thinking of the Arab tent. They wanted air and lightness. The marble pillars are the tent spears, but of stone. The net-work lace veil that filigrees every wall with cobwebs of harmonious colour, is the old tent tapestry, the Córdovan-stamped leather hangings are the Indian shawls that canopied the wandering and victorious horseman’s tent. They wanted mere pendant flowers woven together into roof and gossamer-pierced panels that hardly