Chapter XI: The Mountains Whence Help Cometh (2)

This long extract proves admirably how long, how learnedly, how scientifically, a great man can talk without saying anything. All that is here said amounts only to this: the conclusions obtained by the analysis of the dead body cannot be denied to be applicable to the living body, because we know nothing of the composition of any body organic or inorganic, as it is. Therefore all life has a physical basis! Take the whole extract, and all it tells you is, that we know nothing of the subject it professes to treat. "All the forms of protoplasm, which have yet been examined contain the four elements, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen in very complex union." When chemically resolved into these four elements, is it protoplasm still? Can you by a chemical process reconvert them into protoplasm? No. Then what does the analysis show of the nature of your physical basis of life? "To this complex union, the nature of which _has never yet been determined_, the name of protein has been applied." Very important to know that. Yet this name protein names not something known, but something the nature of which is unknown. What then does it tell us? "If we use this term [protein] with such caution as may properly arise out of our comparative _ignorance_ of the things for which it stands, it may truly be said that all protoplasm is proteinaceous." Be it so, what advance in knowledge, since we are ignorant of what protein is? It is wonderful what a magnificent structure our scientists are able to erect on ignorance as the foundation.

The professor, after having confessed his ignorance of what the alleged protoplasm really is, continues:

"Enough has, perhaps, been said to prove the existence of a
general uniformity in the character of the protoplasm, or
physical basis of life, in whatever group of living beings it
may be studied. But it will be understood that this general
uniformity by no means excludes any amount of special
modifications of the fundamental substance. The mineral,
carbonate of lime, assumes an immense diversity of characters,
though
{471}
no one doubts that under all these protean changes it is one
and the same thing. And now, what is the ultimate fate, and
what the origin, of the matter of life? Is it, as some of the
older naturalists supposed, diffused throughout the universe in
molecules, which are indestructible and unchangeable in
themselves; but, in endless transmigration, unite in
innumerable permutations, into the diversified forms of life we
know? Or is the matter of life composed of ordinary matter,
differing from it only in the manner in which its atoms are
aggregated. Is it built up of ordinary matter, and again
resolved into ordinary matter when its work is done? Modern
science does not hesitate a moment between these alternatives.
Physiology writes over the portals of life,

'Debemur morti nos nostraque,'

with a profounder meaning than the Roman poet attached to that
melancholy line. Under whatever disguise it takes refuge,
whether fungus or oak, worm or man, the living protoplasm not
only ultimately dies and is resolved into its mineral and
lifeless constituents, but is always dying, and, strange as the
paradox may sound, could not live unless it died."

Suppose all this to be precisely as asserted, it only proves that there is diffused through the whole material world elements which in certain unknown and inexplicable combinations, afford sustenance to plants, and through plants to animals, or from which the living organism repairs its waste and sustains its life. It does not tell us how carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen are or must be combined to form the alleged protoplasm, whence is the living organism, nor the origin or principle of its life. It, in fact, shows us neither the origin nor the matter of life, for it is only an actually living organism that uses or assimilates the alleged protoplasm. There is evidently at work in the organism a vital force that is distinguishable from the irritability or contractility of the protoplasm, and not derived from or originated by it. Undoubtedly, every organism that falls under our observation, whether vegetable or animal, has its physical conditions, and lives by virtue of a physical law; but this, even when we have determined the law and ascertained the conditions, throws no light on the life itself. The life escapes all observation, and science is impotent, if it leaves out the creative act of God, to explain it, or to bring us a step nearer its secret. Professor Huxley tells us no more, with all his science and hard words, than any cultivator of the soil, any shepherd or herdsman, can tell us, and knows as well as he, as we have already said.

In the last extract, the professor evidently prefers, of the two alternatives he suggests, the one that asserts that "the matter of life [protoplasm] is composed of ordinary matter, is built up of ordinary matter, and resolved again into ordinary matter when its work is done." This the professor applies to man as well as to plants and animals. Hence, he cites the Roman poet,

"Debemur morti nos nostraque."

But we have conceded the professor more than he asks. We have conceded that all matter is, in a certain sense, plastic, and living, in the sense of being active, not passive. But the professor does not ask so much. We inferred from some things in the beginning of his discourse that he intended to maintain that his protoplasm is itself elemental, and pervading all nature. But this is not the case; he merely holds it to be a chemical compound formed by the peculiar chemical combination of lifeless components. Thus he says:

{472}

"But it will be observed that the existence of the matter of
life depends on the pre-existence of certain compounds, namely,
carbonic acid, water, and ammonia. Withdraw any one of these
three from the world, and all vital phenomena come to an end.
They are related to the protoplasm of the plant, as the
protoplasm of the plant is to that of the animal. Carbon,
hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen are all lifeless bodies. Of
these, carbon and oxygen unite in certain proportions and under
certain conditions, to give rise to carbonic acid; hydrogen and
oxygen produce water; nitrogen and hydrogen give rise to
ammonia. These new compounds, like the elementary bodies of
which they are composed, are lifeless. But when they are
brought together, under certain conditions they give rise to
the still more complex body, protoplasm, and this protoplasm
exhibits the phenomena of life. I see no break in this series
of steps in my secular complication, and I am unable to
understand why the language which is applicable to any one term
of the series may not be used to any of the others."

But here is a break or a bold leap from a lifeless to a living compound. No matter how different are the several chemical compounds known from the simple components, the new compound is always, as far as known, as lifeless as were the several components themselves. Hydrogen and oxygen compounded give rise to water, but water is lifeless. Hydrogen and nitrogen, brought together in certain proportions, give rise to ammonia, still a lifeless compound. No chemist has yet, by any combination of the minerals, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, the constituents of protoplasm, been able to produce a living plant or a living organism of any sort. How then conclude that their combination produces the matter of life, or gives rise to the living organism? There seems to us to be a great gulf between the premises and the conclusion. Certain combinations of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen produce certain lifeless compounds different from themselves, _therefore_ a certain other combination of these same elements produces the living organism, plant, or animal, or originates the matter, and forms the physical basis of life. If the professor had in his school days reasoned in this way, his logic-master, we suspect, would have set a black mark against his name, or, more likely, have rapped him over the knuckles, if not over his head, and told him that an argument that has no middle term, is no argument at all, and that "Transitio a genere ad genus," as from the lifeless to the living, is a sophism.

The professor is misled by his supposing that what is true of the dead body must be true of the living. Because chemical analysis resolves the dead body into certain lifeless elements, he concludes that the living body is, while living, only a compound of these same lifeless elements. That is, from what is true of death, he concludes what must be true of life. But for this fallacy, he could never have fallen into the other fallacy of concluding life is only the result of a certain aggregate or amalgam of lifeless minerals. Our scientists are seldom good logicians, and we have rarely found them able, when leaving traditional science, to draw even a logical induction from the facts before them. This is wherefore they receive so little respect from philosophers and theologians, who are always ready to accept their facts, but, for the most part, unable to accept their inductions. The professor has given us some valuable facts, though very well known before; but his logical ineptness is the best argument he has as yet offered in support of his favorite theory that man is only a monkey developed.

In the extract next before the last, the professor revives an old doctrine long since abandoned, that life is generated from corruption. "Under whatever disguise it takes refuge, whether fungus or oak, worm or man, the living protoplasm not only ultimately dies and is resolved into its mineral and lifeless constituents, but is _always dying, and, strange as the paradox may sound, could not live unless it died._" {473} We know that some physiologists regard the waste of the body, which in life is constantly going on, and which is repaired by the food we take, as incipient death; but this is only because they confound the particles or molecules of matter of which the body is externally built up, and which change many times during an ordinary life, with the body itself, and suppose the life of the body is simply the resultant of the aggregation of these innumerable molecules or particles. But the life of the organism, we have seen, is within it, and its action from the centre, and it is only its life, not its death, that throws off or exudes as well as assimilates the material particles. The exudation as well as the assimilation is interrupted by death. Why the protoplasm could not live unless it died is what we do not understand.

The professor, of course, not only denies the immortality of the soul, but the existence of soul itself. There is for him no soul but the protoplasm formed of ordinary matter. All this we understand very well. We understand, too, that on his theory the protoplasm assimilated by the organism to repair its waste, renews literally, not figuratively, the life of the organism. But how he extracts life from death, and concludes that the protoplasm must die, as the condition of living, passeth our comprehension. We suppose, however, the professor found it necessary to assert it in order to be able to reason from the dead subject to the living. If the protoplasm were not dead, he could not by chemical analysis determine its constituents; and if the death of the protoplasm were not essential to its life, he could not conclude the constituents of the living protoplasm from what he finds to be the constituents of the dead protoplasm. But this does not help him. In the first place, the waste of the living organism is not death nor dying, though death may result from it. And the supply of protoplasm in the shape of food does not originate new life, nor replenish a life that is gone, but supplies what is needed to sustain and invigorate a life that is already life. In the second place, the vital force is not built up by protoplastic accretions, but operates from within the organism, from the organite or central cell, without which there could be no accretions or secretions. The food does not give life; it only ministers sustenance to an organism already living. No chemical analysis of the food can disclose or throw any light on the origin, nature, or constitution of the organic life itself.

It is this fact that prevents us from having much confidence in chemical physiology, which is still insisted on by our most eminent physiologists. In every organism there is something that transcends the reach of chemical analysis, and which no chemical synthesis can reproduce. Take the professor's protoplasm itself. He resolves it into the minerals, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen: but no chemist can by any possible recombination of them reproduce protoplasm. How then can one say that these minerals are its sole constituents, or that there are not other elements entering it which escape all chemical tests and, indeed, are not subject to chemical laws? Chemistry is limited, and cannot penetrate the essence of the material substance any more than the eye can. It never does and never can go beyond the sensible properties of matter. Life has its own laws, and every physiologist knows that he meets in the living organism phenomena or facts which it is impossible to reduce to any of the laws which are obtainable from the analysis of inorganic or lifeless matter. {474} It is necessary then to conclude that there is in the living organism present and active some element which, though using lifeless matter, cannot be derived from it, or explained by physical laws, be they mechanical, chemical, or electrical. The law of life is a law _sui generis_, and not resolvable into any other. We must even go beyond the physical laws themselves, if we would find their principle.

As far as human science goes, there is, where the nucleus of life is wanting, no conversion of lifeless matter into living matter. The attempt to prove that living organisms, plants, animals, or man are developed from inorganic and lifeless matter, though made as long ago as Leucippus and Democritus, systematized by Epicurus, sung in rich Latin verse by Lucretius, and defended by the ablest of modern British physico-philosophers, Mr. Herbert Spencer, in his _Biology_, has by the sane part of the human race in all times and everywhere been held to be foolish and absurd. It has no scientific basis, is supported by no known facts, and is simply an unfounded, at least, an unsupported hypothesis. Life to the scientist is an insolvable mystery. We know no explanation of this mystery or of anything else in the universe, unless we accept the creative act of God; for the origin and cause of nature are not in nature herself. We have no other explanation of the origin of living organisms or of the matter of life. God created plants, animals, and man, created them living organisms, male and female created he them, and thus gave them the power to propagate and multiply each its own kind, by natural generation. The scientist will of course smile superciliously at this old solution, insisted on by priests and accepted by the vulgar; but though not a scientist, we know enough of science to say from even a scientific point of view that there is no alternative: either this or no solution at all. The ablest men of ancient or modern times, when they reject it, only fall into endless sophisms and self-contradictions.

Professor Huxley admits none but material existences, concedes that the terms of his proposition are unquestionably materialistic, and yet denies that he is individually a materialist.

"It may seem a small thing to admit that the dull vital actions
of a fungus, or a foraminifer, are the properties of their
protoplasm, and are the direct results of the nature of the
matter of which they are composed. But if, as I have endeavored
to prove to you, their protoplasm is essentially identical
with, and most readily converted into, that of any animal, I
can discover no logical halting place between the admission
that such is the case, and the further concession that all
vital action may, with equal propriety, be said to be the
result of the molecular forces of the protoplasm which displays
it. And if so, it must be true, in the same sense and to the
same extent, that the thoughts to which I am now giving
utterance, and your thoughts regarding them, are the expression
of molecular changes in the matter of life which is the source
of other vital phenomena. Past experience leads me to be
tolerably certain that, when the propositions I have just
placed before you are accessible to public comment and
criticism, they will be condemned by many zealous persons, and
perhaps by some of the wise and thoughtful. I should not wonder
if 'gross and brutal materialism' were the mildest phrase
applied to them in certain quarters. And most undoubtedly the
terms of the propositions are distinctly materialistic.
Nevertheless, two things are certain: the one, that I hold the
statement to be substantially true; the other, that I,
individually, am no materialist, but on the contrary believe
materialism to involve grave philosophical error."

{475}

If what he has been from the first endeavoring to prove, and here distinctly asserts, is not materialism and consequently by his own confession, "a grave philosophical error," we know not what would be. "This union of materialistic terminology with the repudiation of the materialistic philosophy," he says, further on, "I share with some of the most thoughtful men with whom I am acquainted." His terminology is, then, better fitted to conceal his thought than to express it. He may repudiate this or that materialistic system; he may repudiate all philosophy, which he, of course does, yet not his terminology only, but his thought, as far as thought he has, is materialistic. Nothing can be more materialistic than the conception of life, sense, sentiment, affection, thought, reasoning, all the sensible, intellectual, and moral phenomena we are conscious of, as the product of the peculiar arrangement or combination of the molecules of the protoplasm, itself resolvable into the minerals, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen.

The scientific professor defends himself from materialism, by asserting that both materialism and spiritualism lie without the limits of human science, and by denying the necessity of a substance, whether spirit or matter, to underlie and sustain--we should say, produce--the phenomena, and the necessary relation of cause and effect, or that we do or can know things under any relation but that of juxtaposition in space and time. He falls back on the skepticism of Hume, and takes refuge behind his ignorance. He is too ignorant either to assert or to deny the existence of spirit, and though he may not be able to prove the phenomena in question are the product of material forces, nobody knows enough of the nature and essence of matter to say that they are not; and in fine, he in the first part of his discourse is only stating the direction in which physiology has for some time been moving. After all, what is the difference, or rather, what matters "the difference between the conception of life as the product of a certain disposition of material molecules, and the old notion of an Archaeus governing and directing blind matter within each living body?"

But if matter lies out of the limits of science, and the professor is unable to say whether it exists or not, what right has he to call anything material, to speak of a material basis of life, or to represent life and its phenomena as the product of "a certain disposition of material molecules"? What, indeed, has he been laboring to prove through his whole discourse, but that the phenomena of life are the product of ordinary matter? After this, it will hardly answer to plead ignorance of the existence and properties of matter. If matter be relegated to the region of the unknowable, his whole thesis, terminology and all, must be banished with it, for it retains, and can retain, no meaning.

Nor will it answer for the professor to take refuge in Hume's skepticism, and say he is not a materialist, because he admits no necessary relation between cause and effect, or that there is within the limits of science, any power or force, or _vis activa_, which men in their ignorance call "cause," actually producing something which men call "effect." If he says this, what becomes of his thesis, that life and even mind are the _product_ of a certain disposition of material molecules, or of "the peculiar combination of the molecules of the protoplasm"? If he denies the existence, or even the knowledge of causative, that is, productive force, his thesis has no meaning, and all his alleged proofs of a physical basis of the vital and mental phenomena must count for nothing. {476} Every proof, every argument, presupposes the relation of cause and effect. When that relation is denied, and the two things are assumed to have with each other only the relation of juxtaposition, no proposition can be either proved or disproved. The professor, after having asserted and attempted to prove his materialistic thesis, cannot, without gross self-contradiction, plead the skepticism of Hume in his defence. If he holds with Hume, he should have kept his mouth shut, and never stated or attempted to prove his thesis.

Whether we are or are not able to prove that life, sense, and reason do not originate in the peculiar "combination of the molecules of the protoplasm," is nothing to the purpose. It is for the professor to prove that they do. He must not base his science on our ignorance, any more than on his own.

But our space is exhausted and we must close. Taken, as we have taken him, on what he must concede to be purely scientific ground, and brought to a strictly scientific test, the professor's thesis must be declared not proven, and to be destitute of all scientific value. We have met him on his own ground, and have urged no arguments against him drawn from religion or metaphysics; we have simply corrected one or two mistakes in his science, and assailed his inductions with pure logic. If he has not reasoned logically, that is his fault, not ours, and neither he nor his friends have any right to complain of us for showing that his inductions are illogical, and therefore unscientific. Yet we are bound to say that the professor reasons as well as any of his class of scientists that we have met with. No man can reason logically who rejects the [Greek text], that is, logic itself, and nothing better than Professor Huxley's discourse can be expected from a scientist who discards all causes and seeks to explain the existence and phenomena or facts of the universe, without rising from second causes to the first and final cause of all.

Two questions are raised by this discourse, of great and vital importance. The one as to the _nexus_ between cause and effect, in answer to Hume's skepticism, and the other as to spirit and matter, and their reciprocal relation. We have not attempted the discussion of either in this article; but should a favorable occasion offer, we may hereafter treat them both at some length.

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{477}

Two Months In Spain
During The Late Revolution.

Gibraltar.
October 7.

At an early hour yesterday we left Cadiz, which did indeed look like a "silver cup floating on the water," as the Spaniards say of it. As the steamer bore us away, the rising sun upon its white towers and cathedral dome, the belvideres which adorn the roof of every house, (making each look like a church,) the lovely green alameda, the distant mountains, the pretty white towns on the shore, the hundreds of vessels in the sparkling bay, all made an enchanting scene, from which we were recalled to the miseries of sea-sickness! From time to time, we crept upon deck to see the fine sea view, and when we came to Tarifa, near the straits, the scene was magnificent. On one side, the mountains of Africa, Tangier in the distance; on the other, the mountains of Spain and the Moorish-looking town of Tarifa, with an island on which is the lighthouse and defences standing directly in the mouth of the straits; so that it seemed as if a long line of vessels with their white sails spread were encompassing the island. In sight, at one time, were eighty sail. Every nation under the sun seemed represented, as they saluted one another with their flags. Among the rest, Sweden and Norway. We landed at Gibraltar under a glorious sunset. The farewell beams lighted the mountains with a tint of gilded bronze. Gibraltar, opposite these, was like a huge gray mountain, and behind it the sky was of the palest rose color, melting into blue where it touched the water. The town is on the side and at the foot of the "Rock," (a place of sixteen or twenty thousand inhabitants,) and above it are the famous galleries cut through the rock, from which we could see the noses of the great guns peeping from the port-holes, range after range, one above another, till the top is reached, where is the Signal.

The Rock of Gibraltar is 1430 feet high, and about three miles long--a great gray sphinx jutting into the water. It is joined to the mainland by a narrow slip of sand, capable of being submerged if necessary. Upon this neck of land is the "neutral ground," (a narrow strip,) where, side by side, the fair British sentinel and the sunburned Spaniard keep their "lonely round." We mount upon donkeys to ascend the "Rock," passing through the wonderful "galleries" which, at an immense expense, have been cut into the solid rock, where, with the guns, are depositories for powder, balls, etc. Some of these galleries are over a mile and a quarter long, lighted by the port-holes, which, in passing, gave us glimpses of the loveliest of landscapes. Leaving the galleries, we ascend by zigzag paths to the Signal; at every turn feasting our eyes upon the wonderful panorama spread out below us, which is seen in perfection from the summit. Here we looked down upon two seas, the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, and two worlds, Europe and Africa! Spain on one side, with the snowy heights of the Alpujarras and Sierra Nevada; at our feet, the town of Gibraltar, with the lovely alameda, its green trees and bright gardens, the glorious bay crowded with shipping--men-of-war, school ships, steamers, and every small craft; and, seemingly, but a stone's throw across lay Ceuta, at the foot of that other "Pillar of Hercules" which rises 2200 feet, and looks like a mountain of bronze, while Gibraltar is of gray granite. {478} These two great pillars were considered in the olden time the end of the world--the Tarshish of the Bible; the Calpe of the Phoenicians, who erected here Calpe (carved mountain) and Abyla.

Tarik, the one-eyed Berber chief, took Gibraltar in 711, and called it after his own name, Ghebal Tarik, from whence comes Gibraltar.

While upon the "Signal," we signalize the event by taking a lunch of delicious English cheese, bread and butter, (the first butter we have had in Spain,) and such ale! And while thus agreeably engaged, we hear that an American man-of-war is coming into port, which proves to be the flagship of Admiral Farragut; so we repair to the rampart to see the ship saluted by the town, and then by the British frigate Bristol, to both of which the Yankee replied in gallant style. It was a fine sight, and, altogether, the scene a most remarkable one. Down by the neutral ground, some English officers playing cricket looked like ants in the sunshine; the blue guard-tents of the English sentinels, and the white ones of the Spaniards, were little specks, and the Christian and Jewish cemeteries were like checker work on the greensward.

How longingly we looked toward the purple mountains of Africa, and that beautiful city of Tangier which we had hoped to visit! but the quarantine, still in force, obliged us to abandon the idea. It would have been _something_ to set foot in another continent! Ceuta, which belongs to Spain, and is but a prison-house, could not tempt us. Tearing ourselves from this wonderful scene, we descended by the other side of the mountain and entered the city by beautiful gardens near the alameda, seeing below us the government houses, store-houses, magazines, and many fine residences embowered in gardens of tropical trees and plants; whole hedges of geraniums and cactus lined the roadside, and almond trees, dates, and oranges. We passed a convent-school with beautiful and extensive gardens. In the evening there is music on the alameda, where are trees and statues, and marble benches, on which sit the motley population of this strange place; Moors in turbans, bare-legged Highlanders, officers in scarlet, Andalusians in the red faja, Irishmen fresh from their native isle, ladies in French bonnets and English round hats next the Spanish mantilla and ever-moving fan. Gibraltar is a free port, and every people and kindred meet here for trade. The garrison is very large, about three thousand men in time of peace; for the Spaniards see the occupation of this important point in their country with great jealousy, and would gladly seek occasion to win it back. And every now and then the subject is mooted in the English parliament of giving it up, as it is a most expensive appendage to the English people, and can bring little benefit save to their pride.

{479}

Malaga Hotel Alameda.

October 8.

Leaving Gibraltar at an early hour, and passing the forest of ships in the bay, we soon see the last of the pillars of Hercules and the African coast. The sea is calm, and the coast of Spain along which we come is most beautiful. There is something peculiarly interesting in the mountains of Spain; they seem to rise hill upon hill till they grow to be mountains, and instead of the blue of most southern countries they are of a mulberry hue--seldom with trees, and reminding one of the purple moors of Scotland. The steamer is crowded with families returning from Gibraltar, whither they had fled to get out of the way of the revolution.

We find a busy, crowded city, a lovely bay with mountains in the background, an old Moorish castle overlooking the city, and a beautiful alameda, with trees, and statues, and marble seats, upon which we look from the windows of our delightful hotel.

October 9.

The first thing to-day is to drive to a lovely villa, (that of the Marquis de Casa Loring,) in whose garden we see every fruit and flower and tree of the tropics. Bananas and mangoes, the coffee-tree, the magnolia and India-rubber trees, and among all these we found, and ate, ripe persimmons!--that homely fruit of old Virginia, found amidst all these oriental splendors; and sweeter were they than even the oranges which we gathered from their overladen trees. Returning, we paused to see another villa, from whence is a more extensive and beautiful view of the mountains, the city and the sea, and the fertile plateau upon which Malaga lies, and which is said to rival even the famous huertas of Valencia and Murcia in variety and luxuriance of vegetation. The cemetery gives another favorite point of view, and the old Moorish castle (Gibralfaro) has even a finer one; but the day is too warm to attempt the ascent. The castle dates from 1279, and the lower portion, (the Alcazaba,) which is connected with it, is supposed to be of Phoenician origin; Malaga having been first a Phoenician colony, and afterwards Roman. Of the remains of the Roman period, we saw two interesting bronze slabs in a pavilion of the Villa Loring this morning, one of them containing the municipal laws of Malaga under Domitian, and the other those of a city (Salpense) now unknown.

The interior of the cathedral, which rises upon the site of an ancient mosque, is not at all remarkable. It was begun in 1528. The church of "El Cristo del Victoria" is interesting, from the circumstance of its being built on the spot where stood the tents of the Catholic kings during the siege of 1487. On the right of the altar hangs the royal standard of Ferdinand, and on the left the one taken from the Moors. When the city surrendered, the former was hoisted on the castle, or alcazaba. Opposite this church is a small church, San Roque, the first Christian edifice built here by Ferdinand and Isabella. The crucifix which was formerly here was the one brought by their majesties, is highly revered, and is now over the high altar of Santa Victoria.

Malaga is famed for its climate, the best in Spain. It is considered drier, warmer, and more equable than that of Rome, Pau, Naples, or Nice, even superior to Madeira. Invalids flock here, and it will soon be as crowded as Nice. The extreme dryness of the air is its marked feature, and it is said that there are not ten days in the whole year when an invalid may not take out-door exercise. The evaporation is so great, the rain has no influence on the air. During nine years, it has rained only two hundred and sixty times. The "oldest inhabitant" does not remember to have seen snow, and the cold winds from the Sierra Nevada are kept off by the mountains immediately surrounding the city. {480} To show the longevity of the inhabitants, in the year 1860, twenty-nine out of five thousand deaths were of people who had lived to the ages of _ninety or a hundred_.

Granada.

October 10

This morning we leave Malaga at an early hour by rail, the road being cut through extraordinary mountain passes to Antiquera, an old Roman and Moorish town; from thence by diligence to Loja, where we again take the railway. The journey is altogether delightful, the day being cool and bright, and the mountain scenery on either side grand and beautiful. Loja is in a narrow valley, through which runs the Genil river, on one side the Periquete Hills (Sierra Ronda) and the Hacho. The Manzanil unites here with the Genil, both rapid and clear mountain streams fertilizing a lovely valley. Soon after leaving Loja, we reach Santa Fé, (Holy Faith,) built by Queen Isabella to shelter her army in winter during the siege of Granada in 1492, and called "Santa Fé" because she looked upon the war as a struggle for the faith, and believed piously in its happy issue. This little town has been the scene of many important operations and political acts. It witnessed the signing of the capitulation of Granada, and it was to this town that Columbus was recalled by Isabella when he had already reached the bridge of Piños, behind the mountains, determining to ask aid elsewhere for his great undertaking.

Darkness now fell upon us, and except one exquisite view which the setting sun gave of the snow mountains over Granada, we saw nothing till we reached this last stronghold of the Moors in Spain, and found lodgings inside the Alhambra grounds in the Hotel Washington Irving.

October 11.

We go first to the Cathedral, to hear the high mass, and pay our respects to the remains of Ferdinand and Isabella, which rest there. Driving through beautiful ornamental grounds out of the Alhambra gate, down a steep hill in the old Moorish looking city, we find the cathedral, like that of Malaga, greatly ornamented, (in the Greco-Roman style,) built in 1529. Within the sanctuary are eleven pictures by Alonzo Caño, and two of his most celebrated pieces of sculpture--the heads of Adam and Eve carved in cork. Caño was a native of Granada, and is buried in the Cathedral Bocanegra. Another of the celebrated artists of Spain was also a native here, and the cathedral has several of his pictures. But everything connected with the church sinks into insignificance when one enters into the royal chapel, where all that can perish of the great Ferdinand and Isabella lies (a small space for so much greatness, as Charles V. said.) In a crypt, below the chapel, in plain leaden coffins, with but the simple initial of each king and queen upon them, are the coffins of Ferdinand and Isabella and their daughter Joanna, with her husband Philip I. (the handsome)--the last--that very coffin which the poor crazed Joanna carried about with her for forty-seven years, embraced with such frantic grief, and would never be parted from. Nothing was so affecting as the sight of this--not even the remembrance of all Isabella's glories and goodness! So does an instance of heart devotion touch one more than even the sight of greatness. Above the vault are the four beautiful alabaster monuments, made by order of Charles V. to the memory of his father and mother and his grandparents. {481} Ferdinand and Isabella, with their statues, lie side by side; and poor Joanne la Folle looks lovely and placid (all her jealousies over) beside the husband she adored, as if at last sure that she could not be divided from him. Isabella died at Medina del Campo, (near Segovia, about thirty miles from Madrid,) but desired to be buried here in the bright jewel which she had won as well for her crown as for her God. Her body was taken to Granada in December, journeying over trackless moors amidst storms and torrents, of which the faithful and learned Peter Martyr gives account, who accompanied his beloved mistress to her last home.

The inscription which runs around the cornice tells: "This chapel was founded by their most Catholic Majesties, Don Fernando and Doña Isabel, king and queen of las Españas of Naples, of Sicily--of Jerusalem--who conquered this kingdom, and brought it back to our faith; who acquired the Canary Islands and Indies, as well as the cities of Oran, Tripoli, and Bugia; who crushed heresy, expelled the Moors and Jews from their realms, and reformed religion. The queen died Tuesday, November 26, 1504; the king died January 23, 1516. The building was completed in 1517."

The _bassi relievi_ on the altar in this chapel are very interesting, from the scenes they represent--Ferdinand and Isabella receiving the keys of Granada from Boabdil, etc. At each end of the altar are figures of the king and queen in the costume of the day, the banner of Castile behind the king. In the sacristy is the crown of Isabella, the sword of Ferdinand, the casket in which she gave the jewels to Columbus, some vestments embroidered by her own hand, and the tabernacle used on the altar where they heard mass, on which is a picture of the adoration of the Magi, by that wonderful old painter Hemling of Bruges. Lord Bacon has said of Isabella: "In all her relations of queen or woman, she was an honor to her sex, and the corner-stone of the greatness of Spain--one of the most faultless characters in history--the purest sovereign by whom the female sceptre was ever wielded."

We hear mass in the chapel of the Sagrario, a beautiful church in itself. It was on one of its three doors that the Spanish knight Hernan Perez del Pulgar (during the siege of Granada) nailed the words, "Ave Maria;" to accomplish which feat, he entered the town at dusk, and left it unharmed--nay, even amidst the plaudits of the Arabs, who appreciated the deed. He is buried in one of the chapels called "Del Pulgar."

From the Cathedral we visit the "Cartuja," once a wealthy Carthusian convent, built upon grounds given to the monks by Gonzales de Cordova--"El gran Capitan." In the refectory is shown a cross, painted on the wall by Cotan, which so well imitates wood that the very birds fly to it, and try to perch there. The church has a beautiful statue of St. Bruno upon the altar; and a larger one in the chapel of the Sagrario, by Alonzo Caño, is especially fine. The sacristy is rich in marbles from the Sierra Nevada, and the doors and other wood-work of the church and chapel are made of the most curious and beautiful inlaid work--tortoise-shell, ebony, silver, and mother of pearl--all done by one monk, who took forty-two years to accomplish it; and after so adorning this chapel, behold! the monks are driven from it.

In the church are several lovely pictures--a head of our Lord by Murillo; a copy, by Alonzo Caño, of the Viergo del Rosario in the Madrid gallery, and a copy of one of the "Conceptions" of Murillo --that one with the fair flowing hair, so very lovely.

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Returning home, we have our first view of the snow mountains, (Sierra Nevada.) How strange and how charming to be beneath a tropical sun, and with all the beautiful vegetation of Africa and the Indies, with people all eastern in dress and manners, and see above one snow-capped mountains like the glaciers of Switzerland! Owing to the proximity of these glaciers, the heat is never intolerable here, and yet the winters are so mild they seldom need fire in their sitting-rooms or parlors.

October 12.

To-day is made memorable by our first visit to the Alhambra. Situated on a high hill, on either side of which flows the Darro and the Genil, this space, which occupies several hundred acres, was formerly surrounded by walls and towers, and contained within it the palaces and villas of the Kalifs of Granada; and so numerous were these that it was called a city, Medina Alhambra. Of all these, there now remains but that portion of the Alhambra known as the summer-palace, (the winter-palace having been torn down by Charles V. to make room for a palace which he never finished.) Besides this summer-palace, there is the "Generalife," (a summer-palace built--later than the Alhambra--in 1319;) the remains of the Alcazabar, (fortress,) the Torre de la Vega, where the bell strikes the hours in the same manner as in the Moorish days, to signify upon whom devolves the duty of irrigating the "vega," the beautiful and fertile plain below; the tower of the captive; tower of the princesses; the tower of the "Siete Suetos," (seven stories;) and the Torres Bermujas, (Red Towers.) The last named are outside the Alhambra walls, but are on the same hill, and claim to belong to an older date than even the Moors or the Goths--supposed to be of Phoenician origin. The walls are entered by several gates, some Arabic, and others more modern. From these gates, you wander among stately avenues of trees, with flowers and shrubs and charming paths, through which now and then is seen a glimpse of the yellow towers, or some picturesque ruin, altogether a scene of enchanting beauty. And when upon one of the "miradors" (look-outs) or terraces which crown these towers and palaces, there lies the Moorish city at your feet, the grand snow mountains on the east, the beautiful vega stretching to the mountains on the west, down which marched the conquering Christians; and on the south lies that mountain so poetically called "the last sigh of the Moor," from which Boabdil looked his last upon the kingdom he was leaving for ever, and where his mother made him the famous reproach which has passed into history, that he did well to weep as a woman over that kingdom he could not defend as a man.

And how venture to describe the Alhambra, which has been written of by such men as Prescott and Irving! how give to any one an idea of that which is unique in the world, of the grace and beauty and wonderful variety of its adornments--the carvings like lace, the bright colored mosaics and azuelos, (tiles,) the transparent stucco work and filagree, the inlaid cedar-wood roofs, the pillars, the domes and fountains, the courts, the beautiful arches! We enter first the Court of the Myrtles, in which a large square pool, filled by a fountain at either end, is surrounded by a hedge of fragrant myrtle, and this in turn by a marble colonnade, over which is a second gallery, with jalousies, through which we could imagine the dark eyed beauties to have peeped. {483} The roofs of these galleries are of cedar-wood inlaid, and the arches and sides of exquisite wreaths and vines in stucco, with shields of the Moorish kings, mottoes and verses from the Koran, etc. This court was a place of ablutions for the kalifs.

From the Court of the Myrtles, one sees the Tower of Comares, (called from the name of its Persian architect;) and within this tower, opening from the Court of Myrtles, and preceded by its "antesala" is the Hall of the Ambassadors, the largest, highest, and most beautifully adorned of all the Alhambra. Here was the sultan's throne and reception room. On three sides, arched windows look down into the deep ravine from which the tower rises; and, beyond, upon an enchanting prospect, the old Moorish city and the verdant hills and mountains. The roof of this hall is a sort of imitation of the vault of heaven, and that of the "antesala" (called "La Barca," from being shaped like a boat) is also very elegant.

On another side the Court of Myrtles is the famous Court of the Lions, with its one hundred and thirty-six pillars of white marble, its twelve lions in the centre, supporting an alabaster basin, (a fountain.) At each end, a pavilion projects into the court, with arabesque patterns so light and graceful that the very daylight is seen through the stucco.

Opening from the Court of the Lions is the Hall of the Abencerrages, deriving its name from the legend according to which Boabdil invited the chiefs of the illustrious family of that name to a feast, and had them taken out one by one and beheaded. Others assert that they were murdered in this hall, and show the stains of blood in the marble of the fountain. As they had been mainly instrumental in placing him upon the throne, this act of ingratitude helped to his ruin. This story is generally believed, but Washington Irving has rescued the name of this "unlucky" one (_el chico_) from this unjust aspersion. His investigations prove that the crimes laid to the charge of Boabdil were in reality committed by his father, Aben Hassin. He it was who murdered the thirty-six Abencerrages upon suspicion of having conspired against him, and it was he who confined his queen in the "tower of the captive," etc.

On the east side of the Court of the Lions is the "Sale del Tribunal," (the hall of justice,) where the kalifs gave audience on state affairs. Three arches in the centre and two at either end lead into this hall, which is ninety feet long by sixteen wide, with a dome thirty-eight feet high. This is divided by arches into seven rooms, all profusely ornamented, and in the ceilings of several recesses are paintings of Moors, with cimeters, castles, etc. In one of these rooms is the famous Alhambra vase of porcelain, four feet three inches high, which was found full of gold. In another small room are three tombstones, one of Mohammed II., and one of Yusef III., found in the tomb-house of the Moorish kings, near the Court of the Lions, in 1574. They have long and elaborate inscriptions, one of which reads thus:

"In the name of God, the most merciful and clement!

"May God's blessing for ever rest with this our king!

"Health and peace!

"Gentle showers from heaven come down on this tomb, and give it
freshness, and the orchard spread its perfume upon it. What
this tomb contains is wine without admixture, and myrtles.
Reward and pardon be granted to him who lies within.

"It was God's pleasure that he should dwell amid the garden of
delights.

"Those that inhabit those happy regions come forth to meet him
with palms in their hands.

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"If thou wouldst know the story of him who lies in the tomb,
listen. He was a prince above all in excellence. May God give
him sanctity!

"He was cut down into the dust. Yet the Pleiades themselves are
not his equals.

"Unavoidable fate took up arms, and aimed at the very throne of
the empire.

"Oh! how great was his fame. His excellence, how high! and
unbounded his virtues!

"For Abul Hadjaj was like the moon that points out the road to
take, and when the sun went down its brightness beamed no less
from his eyes.

"Abul Hadjaj showered down tokens of his liberality. But
drought is come; his liberality has ceased; his crops are
gathered.

"His generosity is forgotten; his halls are lonesome; his
ministers silent, and his rooms deserted.

"But it was God's pleasure, the merciful one, (may he be
glorified,) to take him into the eternal dwelling when he
deprived him of life.

"Here lies he softly, within this narrow tomb, but his real
dwelling is the heart of every man.

"Why should I not pray God that the rain should moisten his
tomb with its abundant dew? for the rain of his liberality
showered down upon all without ceasing.

"Was he not filled with the fear of God, with gentleness and
wisdom? Amongst his qualities, were not virtue, liberality, and
magnificence one part?

"Was he not the only one that with his science cleared up all
doubts?

"Was not poetry one of his attributes, and did he not deck his
throne with verses like strings of pearl?

"Was he not always stout, and held his ground in the
battle-field?

"How many enemies his sword repelled!

"But Ebn Nasr, his successor, is certainly the greatest among
all monarchs of the earth.

"May God protect him!

"For he is most generous and victorious; besides, he
distributes rewards generously. He has saved the kingdom from
ruin, and restored it to its former greatness."

The Hall of the Two Sisters takes its name from two white slabs of equal size in the pavement. Here are beautiful arches, windows with painted jalousies, a fountain, and a wonderful roof, composed of three thousand pieces in little miniature domes and vaults, all colored in delicate blue and red with white and gold. From this hall, indeed quite from the Court of the Lions, one sees through a series of arched entrances into the "Corredor de Lindaraja," in which room are thirteen little cupolas, and the Mirador de Lindaraja (a boudoir of the sultana) looks upon the garden of Lindaraja, with flowers, and fountains, and orange-trees.

On the opposite of this lovely garden, and looking into it, are the rooms occupied by Washington Irving, those built by Philip V. for his beautiful queen, Elizabeth of Parma, whom the Spanish call "Isabel Farnese." Several corridors here lead to modernized parts of the building--" the queen's boudoir," a chapel made by Charles V. out of the mosque, and a lofty tower, used by the Arabs as an oratory for the evening prayer, and from which the view is superb--the "Generalife" with its white towers, the woods of the Alhambra, the Darro far below in the deep gorge, and, beyond and above all, the snow-capped Sierra Nevada.

The "Patio de la Mosquita" (the court of the mosque) has only the remains of its beautiful roof.

From this to the baths is a long corridor leading to the Chamber of Rest, which has just been restored by Sig. Contreras, the able architect who is repairing the whole building, by order of the queen. This has a fountain in the centre, marble pillars all round, a gallery above, where the musicians played and sung while the bather inclined upon the cushions below; within were the marble baths of the sultan, the sultana, etc.

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