The Alhambra

ALTHOUGH the admission may be construed by the censorious as betraying a lack of becoming diffidence, I am tempted to believe that no apology will be demanded for the publication of this volume by that section of the reading public for which it has been chiefly compiled. My temerity goes even further, and I anticipate with some confidence that visitors to the Alhambra, and pilgrims to that glorious Mecca of Moorish workmanship will recognise in this book an earnest attempt to supply a long-felt want. When I paid my first visit to Granada some years ago, I was surprised and disappointed to find that no such thing as an even fairly adequate illustrated souvenir of this “city of the dawn” was to be obtained. Many tomes, costly and valuable (not necessarily the same thing), have been written to place on record the wonders of “the glorious sanctuary of Spain,” but these are beyond the reach of the general public. Many beautiful pictures have caught odd ecstasies of this superb and perfectly harmonised palace of art, but these impressions are not available to the ordinary tourist.

What is wanted, as I imagine, is a concise history and description of the Alhambra, illustrated with a series of pictures constituting a tangible remembrancer of the delights of this Granadian paradise

The Alhambra may be likened to an exquisite opera which can only be appreciated to the full when one is under the spell of its magic influence. But as the witchery of an inspired score can be recalled by the sound of an air whistled in the street, so—it is my hope—the pale ghost of this Moorish fairy-land may live again in the memories of travellers through the medium of this pictorial epitome.

I desire, however, to submit an explanation—or excuse—for the unusual form in which this volume is issued. At the commencement of my work I experienced no little difficulty in collecting the requisite illustrations, for most of the obtainable photographs were ill-chosen and but carelessly developed, and I was compelled to press my own cameras into the service of my scheme. But when my designs became known, I was inundated with offers of pictures of every description until the embarrassment of artistic treasures entirely upset the original purpose of my book. Artists placed their studies at my disposal; collectors begged me, with irresistible Spanish courtesy, to regard their galleries as my own; and students directed my attention to little known publications on the subject.

Don Mariano Contreras, Conservator of the Alhambra, the son of the gifted Raphaël Contreras, who devoted thirty-seven years of his life to the restoration of the Palace—gave me the benefit of his knowledge of this unique treasure-house of art; and I have also laid under contribution the beautiful plates of Owen Jones, who disposed of a Welsh inheritance in order to produce his great work on the Plans, Elevations, Sections and Details of the Alhambra. Jones’s Grammar of Ornament, which has been described as “beautiful enough to be the horn-book of the Angels,” also contains the result of his researches in the Alhambra, which occupied him for the greater part of eleven years. A selection of these illustrations is here rescued from the obscurity of public libraries and the inaccessible recesses of private collections. The inclusion of John F. Lewis’s drawings, and the reproduction of a series of pictures by James C. Murphy, who spent seven years in the study of the artistic marvels of the Alhambra, I do not feel called upon to defend. The photographs, several of which were placed at my disposal by Don Rafaël Garzón, represent the buildings as they appear to-day; the drawings were made before the Palace was damaged by the disastrous fire of September, 1890.

For the historical portions of the description contained in the letterpress I have levied tribute on a variety of authors. The History of the Mohammedan Dynasties in Spain, by the learned Spanish Orientalist, Don Pascual de Gayángos; Raphaël Contreras’ Etude Descriptive des Monuments Arabes; Richard Ford’s reverent appreciations; Dr. R. Dozy’s history; Mr. Stanley Lane-Poole’s The Moors in Spain; Washington Irving’s fascinating writings; and The Alhambra Album, presented by Prince Dolgorouki in 1829, containing the autographs, poems and thoughts of succeeding generations of visitors to Granada, these and many others have been drawn upon in the following pages.

But the multiplicity of my illustrations convinced me that if I adhered to my idea of furnishing an amount of letterpress sufficient to “carry” the blocks, I should only end in producing a book that would tax the physical endurance of my readers by reason of its bulk, and exhaust their patience with a tedious superabundance of minute descriptive pabulum. I resolved, therefore, to give pride of place to the pictorial side of the volume; to abandon the traditions regulating the proportions of prose to pictures; and make my appeal to the public by the beauty and variety of the illustrations I have collected, and the immensity of elaborate letterpress which I have not written.

A. F. C.

“Royston,”
Hampstead, N.W., 1904.

 

 

THE compilation of a book of this kind reveals in the author a refreshing optimism which does not always survive the ordeal of publication, and it is perhaps out of sympathy with the misgivings that assail him as he approaches the bar of public and critical opinion, that convention cedes to him the privilege of making some apology for the faith that is in him. In his preface he is permitted to explain himself, and this apologia or justification, call it which you will, stands as the last word in his own defence. But the demand for a further edition is the outcome of an amiable conspiracy on the part of the public, and it is not required of the author to explain, justify, or excuse an issue for which he is not directly responsible. Any revision or amplification, however, which is to be found in a second impression, may be briefly referred to, and at the same time tradition allows him to express the feelings of gratitude and gratification that the occasion inspires. It has been my ambition to acknowledge the favour with which this book has been received, by having this edition produced with the greatest care on special paper, and by the addition of a number of new illustrations, including some half-tone and coloured plates reproduced from the Monumentos Arquitectonicos de España and others, which I have acquired since it was first produced. It will be seen that several of the coloured pictures illustrate designs which are common to the Arabian ornamentation to be found in Cordova and Seville, and as being representative of the Moresco work of the period, they also appear in the companion volume on “Moorish Remains in Spain,” but it may be stated that the whole of the plates reproduced here are from photographs and drawings secured, or specially made to illustrate The Alhambra. In its pictorial appeal it has been my ambition to make this edition as worthy of its subject as means and ability permit, and I offer this assurance as an earnest of my sincere appreciation of the generous manner in which the Press and public rewarded my previous effort.

A. F. C.

Plate.	No.	Description.
I.	1	Ornament in Panels on the Walls, Hall of Ambassadors.
II.	2	Soffitt of an Arch, Court of the Fish-pond.
III.	3	Ornament Over Doorway at the Entrance, Court of the Lions.
IV.	4	Ornament in Doorway at the Entrance to the Veneta, Hall of the Two Sisters.
V.	5	Ornament on the Side of Windows, Upper Storey, Hall of the Two Sisters.
VI.	6	Ornament in Spandrils of Arches, Hall of the Two Sisters.
VI.	7	Ornaments in Spandrils of Arches, Hall of the Abencerrages.
VII.	8	Ornaments in Panels, Hall of the Ambassadors.
VIII.	9	Ornaments in Panels, Court of the Mosque.
IX.	10	Ornament over Arches at the Entrance to the Court of the Lions.
X.	11	Ornament on the Walls, Hall of the Abencerrages.
XI.	12	Ornament in Panels on the Walls, Court of the Mosque.
XII.	13	Spandril of an Arch of Window, Hall of Ambassadors.
XIII.	14	Brackets Supporting Ceiling of the Portico, Court of the Lions.
XIV.	15	Small Panel in Jamb of a Window, Hall of Ambassadors.
XV.	16	Small Panel in Jamb of a Window, Hall of Ambassadors.
XVI.	17	Small Panel in Jamb of a Window, Hall of the Two Sisters.
XVII.	18	Panel in the Upper Chamber of the House of Sanchez.
XVIII.	19	Soffitt of Great Arch at the Entrance of the Court of the Fish-pond.
XIX.	20	Spandril from Niche of Doorway at the Entrance of the Hall of Ambassadors, from the Hall of the Bark.
XX.	21	Lintel of a Doorway, Court of the Mosque.
XXI.	22	Capital of Columns, Court of the Lions.
XXI.	23	Capital of Columns, Court of the Lions.
XXII.	24	Capital of Columns, Court of the Lions.
XXII.	25	Capital of Columns, Court of the Lions.
XXIII.	26	Capital of Columns, Court of the Fish-pond.
XXIII.	27	Capital of Columns, Court of the Fish-pond.
XXIV.	28	Ornament on the Walls of the Windows of “Linda-raja’s” Balcony.
XXIV.	29	Ornament on the Walls of the Windows of “Linda-raja’s” Balcony.
XXIV.	30	Ornament on the Walls of the Windows of “Linda-raja’s” Balcony.
XXIV.	31	Ornament on the Walls of the Windows of “Linda-raja’s” Balcony.
XXIV.	32	Ornament on the Walls of the Windows of “Linda-raja’s” Balcony.
XXIV.	33	Ornament on the Walls of the Windows of “Linda-raja’s” Balcony.
XXV.	34	Court of the Lions.
XXVI.	35	Capitals in the Hall of Two Sisters.
XXVII.	36	Details of the Great Arches in the Hall of the Bark.
XXVIII.	37	Arches, Court of the Lions and Hall of Justice.
XXIX.	38	Details of the Great Arches.
XXX.	39	Frets from Different Halls.
XXXI.	40	Detail of an Arch, Court of the Fish-pond.
XXXII.	41	Detail of an Arch, Portico of the Court of Lions.
XXXIII.	42	Cornice of the Roof, Court of the Mosque.
XXXIV.	43	Divan, Court of the Fish-pond.
XXXV.	44	Actual State of the Colours.
XXXVI.	45	Windows in the Alcove, Hall of the Two Sisters.
XXXVII.	46	The Vase.
XXXVIII.	47	Details of one of the Arches, Hall of Justice.
XXXIX.	48	Details of the Arches, Hall of the Abenderrages.
XL.	49	Centre Painting on the Ceiling, Hall of Justice.
XLI.	50	Mosaic Dado in Centre Window on the North Side, Hall of Ambassadors.
XLII.	51	Mosaic Dados on Pillars Between the Windows, Hall of Ambassadors.
XLIII.	52	Mosaic Dados on Pillars Between the Windows, Hall of Ambassadors.
XLIV.	53	Mosaics in the Hall of the Two Sisters.
XLV.	54	Mosaic Dado Round the Internal Walls of the Mosque.
XLVI.	55	Azulejos. Painted Tiles.
XLVII.	56	Mosaic in the Baths.
XLVII.	57	Mosaic in the Baths.
XLVIII.	58	Mosiac from the Portico of the Generalife.
XLIX.	59	Blank Window, Hall of the Bark.
L.	60	Soffitt of Arch, Entrance of the Hall of Abenderrages.
LI.	61	Cornice at Springing of Arch of Doorway at the Entrance of the Ventana, Hall of the Two Sisters.
LII.	62	Border of Arches.
LII.	63	Border of Arches.
LIII.	64	Border of Arches.
LIV.	65	Border of Arches.
LIV.	66	Border of Arches.
LV.	67	Ornament in Panels on the Wall, Hall of Ambassadors.
LVI.	68	Ornaments Painted on the Pendants, Hall of the Bark.
LVI.	69	Bands, Side of Arches, Court of the Lions.
LVIII.	70	Bands, Side of Arches, Court of the Lions.
LVIII.	71	Bands, Side of Arches, Court of the Lions.
LIX.	72	Ornaments on Panel, Hall of Ambassadors.
LX.	73	Ornaments on Panels, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXI.	74	Ornaments on Panels, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXII.	75	Ornaments on Panels, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXIII.	76	Frieze in the Upper Chamber, House of Sanchez.
LXIV.	77	Cornice at Springing of Arches, Windows of the Hall of Ambassadors.
LXV.	78	Spandril of Arch. From the Centre Arch of the Court of the Lions.
LXV.	79	Spandril of Arch. From the Entrance to the Divan, Hall of the Two Sisters.
LXVI.	80	Details of the Wood-work of the Door to the Hall of Abencerrages.
LXVII.	81	Spandril of Arch. Hall of Justice.
LXVII.	82	Spandril of Arch. Hall of Justice.
LXVIII.	83	Ornaments on the Walls of the Hall of Ambassadors.
LXIX.	84	Spandril of Arch. From the Entrance to the Court of Lions from the Court of the Fish-pond.
LXIX.	85	Spandril of Arch. From the Entrance to the Court of the Fish-pond from the Hall of the Bark.
LXX.	86	Mosaic. Pilaster, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXX.	87	Mosaic. Dado, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXX.	88	Mosaic. Dado, Hall of the Two Sisters.
LXX.	89	Mosaic. Pilaster, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXX.	90	Mosaic. Dado, Hall of the Two Sisters.
LXX.	91	Mosaic. Dado, Hall of the Two Sisters.
LXX.	92	Mosaic. Pilaster, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXXI.	93	Plaster Ornaments, used as Upright and Horizontal Bands Enclosing Panels on the Walls.
LXXII.	94	Mosaic. Dado, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXXII.	95	Mosaic. Dado, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXXII.	96	Mosaic. Dado, in Centre Window, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXXII.	97	Mosaic. From a Column, Hall of Justice.
LXXII.	98	Mosaic. Dado in the Baths.
LXXII.	99	Mosaic. Dado in Divan, Court of the Fish-pond.
LXXII.	100	Mosaic. Dado, Hall of the Two Sisters.
LXXIII.	101	Panels on Walls, Tower of the Captive.
LXXIV.	102	Blank Window, Hall of the Bark.
LXXV.	103	Rafters of a Roof Over a Doorway now Destroyed Beneath the Tocador de la Reyna.
LXXVI.	104	Band at Springing of Arch at the Entrance of the Hall of the Two Sisters from the Court of Lions.
LXXVII.	105	Panelling of the Centre Recess, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXXVIII.	106	Part of Ceiling of the Portico of the Court of the Fish-pond.
LXXIX.	107	Blank Window, Hall of the Bark.
LXXX.	108	Ornaments on the Walls, House of Sanchez.

 

“ANDALUS” is the name given by the Moors to that part of the Spanish Peninsula wherein they were all-powerful for eight centuries. Andalus comprehended the four kingdoms of Seville, Córdova, Jaen, and Granada. (Los Cuatro Reinos de Andalusia.)

About the year 403 of the Hegira (A.D. 1012) Granada first acquired importance. Záwí, the African chief who then ruled in Andalusia from Malaga to Almeria, declared himself independent, and transferred the seat of government from Elvira[1] to Granada. Little by little the whole population migrated to the new capital, so that Elvira dwindled to an insignificant village, whilst Granada rose to be a magnificent city, culminating in grandeur and importance during the reigns of three enlightened sovereigns of the Beni Nasr dynasty—Mohammed the First (Al-ghálib-billah, A.D. 1232-1272), who commenced the Alhambra;[2] Yúsuf the First (A.D. 1333), who added greatly to its beauty, and is regarded as the monarch who completed the building; and Mohammed the Fifth (Al-ghaní-billah), son of Yúsuf, who succeeded to the throne upon the assassination of his father in 1354, and who finished the decorations of many of the Courts and Halls of the Palace.

One of the earliest extant references to Granada is contained in the MS. of Ibnu Battúttah, the Moslem traveller, who wrote in the fourteenth century. About the year 1360 Ibnu Battúttah journeyed from Morocco to Andalus, and visited Granada, which he thus describes: “Granada is the capital of Andalus, and the husband of its cities; its environs are a delightful garden, covering a space of forty miles, and have not their equal in the world. It is intersected by the well-known river Sheníl[3] (Xenil) and other considerable streams, and surrounded on every side by orchards, gardens, groves, palaces, and vineyards. One of the most pleasant spots in its neighbourhood is that known by the name of ’Aynu-l-adamar—the fountain of tears—which is a spring of cold and limpid water placed in the midst of delightful groves and gardens.” The suburb of Granada here referred to, preserves to this day its Arabic name corrupted into Dinamar, or Adinamar. It is a pleasant and much-frequented spot, close to Granada.

The city of Granada was held in the highest estimation by Andalusian poets. One ancient eulogist says: “If that city could reckon no other honour but of having been the birthplace of the Wizír Ibnu-l-khattíb, that alone would be sufficient. But Granada has not its like in the world: neither Cairo, Baghdád, nor Damascus can compete with it; we can only give an idea of its worth by comparing it to a beautiful bride, of whose dower it should form part.”

The mention of the celebrated Wizír, Ibnu-l-khattíb, brings to mind a particularly interesting figure in the history of the Alhambra, for to him we owe the composition of many of the poems inscribed upon its walls. He flourished A.D. 1313-1374. Amongst other works of the highest value, of which he was the author, is a biographical dictionary of illustrious Granadians. At an early age he attracted the notice of Yúsuf I., who promoted him through many offices of the State, until he became that Sultán’s Grand Wizír, in which capacity he served his master faithfully and long. After the death of Yúsuf, he retained his high office of Wizír under Mohammed V. for twenty years, when the hostility of his foes brought upon him the suspicion of disloyalty. He was thrown into prison, and strangled by order of Mohammed. “Thus,” says an admiring biographer, “perished the phœnix of the age, the prince of poets and historians of his time, and the model of Wizírs.”

The unfortunate Ibnu-l-khattíb possessed, in the highest degree, the faculty of improvisation. It is related that he was sent on an embassy by Mohammed V. to implore the aid of Fáris, Sultán of Fez, against the Christians. On entering the Hall of Audience, and before he delivered his message, he uttered some verses which called forth the admiration of all present, and were so much approved by the Sultán, that before listening to what the Ambassador had to say on affairs of State, he exclaimed: “By Allah! I know not the object of thy visit; but whatever it may be, I grant the request.” In concluding the anecdote, the narrator adds: “This circumstance elicited from the celebrated Kádí, Abú-l-kásim Ash-Sheríf, who formed part of the embassy, the very just remark that never until that time had there been an ambassador who attained the object of his mission before he had made it known!”

The Mohammedans in Spain, whether considered as the enthusiastic warriors whose victorious arms spread terror and consternation, or as the cultivated race who acted as the pioneers of art, letters, and civilisation, are entitled to a prominent place in the annals of Europe. But, instead of being commended to the gratitude of succeeding ages, as they assuredly deserved to be, the Arabs have been too frequently charged with corrupting the infancy of modern literature; and this, in the face of the verdict of a high authority on the literature of the Spanish Moslems, who has declared that the material he cites proves the superiority of the Andalusians to every other nation.

Spanish historians have always manifested contempt for the writings of the Arabs. Rejecting the means afforded them by abundant Moorish records, they have compiled their histories from one-sided national authorities, disdaining to cast a glance on writings of the enemies of their country and religion. The effects of such illiberality need scarcely be pointed out. The history of Spain, during the Middle Ages, has been, and still is, notwithstanding the labours of modern critics, a tissue of fable and contradiction.

Nevertheless, it was reserved for a Spaniard—Don Pascual de Gayángos—to give to the world the true history of the Mohammedans in Spain. He fixed upon the manuscript account of Ahmed Ibn Mohammed Al-makkarí, which gives an uninterrupted narrative of the conquests, wars, and settlements of the Spanish Moslems from their first invasion of the Peninsula to their final expulsion; and Don Pascual so enriches his author’s text with a mass of notes and illustrations that the work forms, if not the only, certainly the most valuable history of the Arabs in Spain—even the recondite production of the German savant, the late Dr. R. Dozy, of Leyden, Histoire des Musulmans d’Espagne, yields on the score of usefulness.

Al-makkarí wrote at the close of the sixteenth century. His life was spent in literary pursuits, and in the society of the learned. He appears to have resembled our own John Aubrey in his genius for taking the greatest pains to collect his material from the most authentic sources at his command; and, if he sometimes falls into slight inaccuracies, his editor—Don Pascual—promptly sets the matter right in a note of profound and judicious scholarship. That portion of Al-makkarí which most concerns the present volume is contained in the second part of his work, and consists of extracts from various Arab authors relating to the history of the kingdom of Granada. In a note upon the etymology of the name “Andalus,” Al-makkarí derives it from Andalosh, a Moorish corruption for Vandalocii (Vandals), with which attribution Don Pascual seems to agree. Al-makkarí concludes his history with a pious ejaculation for the re-occupation of the country: “May Allah restore it entire to the Moslems!”

It is to be lamented that an ungenerous spirit actuated the authorities in Madrid at the time Gayángos was preparing his monumental work (circa 1840). In his own land, the assistance he had every right to expect, was withheld! He tells us that he petitioned the Ministers of Her Catholic Majesty for permission to visit the Library of the Escorial, and he finds himself called upon to disclose a fact very painful to his feelings. Don Pascual’s own words are: “Strange to say, notwithstanding repeated applications, and the interference of persons high in rank and influence, my request was positively denied, professedly on the plea that the Library could not be opened, a contention having arisen between the Government and the Royal Household as to the possession of it!” Under the enlightened rule of King Alfonso XIII. such treatment has become impossible: all that remains of the literature, the splendid monuments of Arabian architecture, indeed everything which exhibits memorials of the graceful people who have passed away, is now open to the antiquary or the artist, and zealously guarded with the most reverent care. No longer is there danger of wanton spoliation of the ancient palace of the Moorish Kings of Granada. The effort now is to retard the inevitable process of decay. The late Señor Raphaél Contreras occupied himself for thirty-seven years in an attempt to restore the defaced or partially-destroyed arabesques of the Alhambra. In the course of his labour of love, it was his good fortune to be rewarded, from time to time, by the discovery of inscriptions which had long lain hidden; and his exertions were further recompensed by the happiness of lighting upon and replacing parts of mutilated ornament and portions of the edifice itself which had become dislodged by accident or rapine, thus saving somewhat from the deluge of time.

The result of his research and discovery Don Raphaél placed before the public in a scholarly work, entitled, Etude Déscriptive des Monuments Arabes, published at Madrid, and which reached its fourth edition in 1889.

A separate, or supplementary volume was promised, which should treat of Arabic Inscriptions remaining in Seville, Córdova, and more particularly in Granada, belonging to the most important period of the Mohammedan Domination in those parts of the Peninsula. It is greatly to be hoped that the work may make its appearance under the auspices of his son, Don Mariano Contreras, the present Conservator of the Alhambra.

That portion of the Alhambra, called the Casa Real, or Royal House, appears to be but a very small part of the ancient Palace of the Moorish Kings of Granada. It is to be regretted that no traces exist at the present day by which its limits can be accurately defined; but we may judge, from the gallery of

two stories at the southern end of the Court of the Fish-pond, which still remains, that the part of the Moorish building destroyed to make way for the Palace of Charles V., must have been of considerable consequence. No traces of the numerous apartments, which must have been required for guards and attendants, now exist; and a most important feature—the hareem—is wanting.

The Alhambra, occupying the plateau of the Monte de la Assabica, is situated at one extremity of the city of Granada, above which it rises like the Acropolis at Athens. The usual entrance is by the Gate of Justice. From the Gate of Justice we pass the Puerta del Vino, or Wine Gate, to the large square called the Plaza de los Algibes, or Place of the Cisterns. On the right is the Palace of Charles V.; beyond, but without revealing any indication of its internal beauty, is the Casa Real; on the left of the Place of the Cisterns is the Alcazába—Kussábah, the citadel—long used as a place of detention for convicts. There are several ruined towers here, which are, perhaps, the remains of the most ancient part of the fortress.

The severe and striking aspect of the towers with which the walls of the fortress are studded, arouses no suspicion of the art and luxury enshrined within; they are formed to impress the beholder with respect for the power and majesty of the King; whilst within, the fragrant shrubs and running streams, the porcelains, Mosaics, and gilded stucco work, and particularly the pious inscriptions which are in such profusion upon the walls, constantly reminded the sovereign how all that ministered to his happiness was the gift of Allah.

The inscriptions are of three sorts—“ayát,” i.e., verses from the Korán; “asjá,” pious or devout sentences not taken from the Korán; and, thirdly, “ash’ár,” poems in praise of the builders or owners of the Palace. Those belonging to either of the first two classes are generally written in the Cufic character, and the letters are often so shaped as to present a uniform appearance from both sides, and make the inscription readable from the right to the left, and vice versa, or upwards and downwards.

The innumerable sentences abounding everywhere in the Alhambra are so harmonious and interweaving—producing such cross-lights of poetry and praise, merging naturally and gracefully when the mind is torpid or indifferent to them, into mere surface ornament—that they are never out of place, but present always an unsatiating charm. Once, at least, an inscription in the Palace has settled a dull controversy respecting the use of the many small, highly-decorated recesses which are seen in the apartments. On each side of the ante-room of the Hall of the Ambassadors is one of these recesses resembling the piscinæ of our cathedrals. Blundering wise men insistently averred that these niches were used by suppliants as receptacles for their slippers before entering to an audience, until an Arabic scholar pointed to an inscription round the aperture, which reads: “If anyone approach me complaining of thirst, he will receive cool and limpid water, sweet and pure.” Any Spaniard ought to have known that here were the places of the Alcarraza, or porous earthen bottles common to all comers, even as they may now be found in the halls of some Andalusian gentlemen.

Such a niche and water-vase are represented in this volume at page 77.

“Is the Alhambra,” asks Ford, “a palace of the Arabian Nights, or only a tawdry ruin bedaubed with faded colour? And what of the colour as it exists? Is it emeraldine or plaited flowers? No, in sober truth, the colour is dim and faded; buried in some places under white flaky icicles of whitewash, or blurred and besmirched as a dead butterfly’s wing. Here and

 

there are revived bright scraps of azure, gold, and vermilion; but generally dull of outline, and dim in low, deep, shadow tone.”

Where the Moorish work is imitated, greens and purples obtrude, to demonstrate how inferior is modern decorative skill to the genius of the ancient Arabs. The dados, or low wainscotings, are of square, glazed tiles, which form a glittering breast-high coat of mail up to the lower third of the Palace

walls. Here the colours are the same as those of the old Majolica ware. Sometimes these Azulejo tiles, with their low-toned enamel colours, are formed into pillars, or pave the floors in squares of fleurs-de-lis, or other heraldic emblems. In these dados, colour is seen in the shade. The Moors wanted shade in a country where the sun is solid fire—the colours deep, soft, and subdued as in an Arabian carpet.

The present pavement of the halls and courts of the Palace is either of white marble, as in the Hall of The Two Sisters and Hall of the Abencerrages, or of brick. Seldom, however, does it appear to be the original flooring, as in many places it is considerably above the ancient level, concealing the lower part of the Mosaic dados. On the pavement of one of the alcoves of the Hall of Justice are still to be seen painted tiles which seem to suggest a style of flooring more in harmony with the general decoration of the Halls and Courts than either those of marble or of brick. This deduction has been objected to by persons conversant with the manners and customs of the Mohammedans, who contend that it is impossible that these tiles—on which the name of God is written—should have been trodden under foot. But it should be borne in mind that the Arabs of Spain allowed themselves considerable laxity in observing the behests of the Korán—as is evidenced by the fountain in the Court of Lions, the bas-relief in the Museum of the Palace, and the paintings in the Hall of Justice.

For the student who desires to pursue exhaustively the history of the Moors in Spain, there are but two trustworthy authorities—Don Pascual de Gayángos, the Spanish Orientalist and historian, and Dr. R. Dozy, of Leyden. Don Pascual’s translation of Al-makkarí has been largely drawn upon in the compilation of the present volume, as also the “Handbook” and “Gatherings” of Richard Ford (1845 and onward), which form the bases of the indispensable Murray’s Guide. For the last days of the Moslems in Spain, Sir William Stirling-Maxwell’s Don John of Austria must be read. The fascinating volumes of Washington Irving will, of course, continue to delight so long as the English language endures, and no better companions can be wished for on the spot where they were written than his stories of The Alhambra and The Conquest of Granada. Mr. Henry Coppeé’s History of the Conquest of Spain by the Arab Moors, in two volumes, Boston (Mass.), 1881; Miss Charlotte Yonge’s Christians and Moors in Spain; Mr. H. E. Watt’s Spain from the Moorish Conquest to the Fall of Granada; the concise Rise and Fall of the Muslim Empire in Spain, by our fellow-subject, Muhammed Hayat Khan, Lahore, 1897; and Mr. Stanley Lane-Poole’s The Moors in Spain should be consulted.

However much disguised, the whole ornamentation of the Moors is constructed geometrically.

It is probable that the immense variety of Moorish ornaments, which are formed by the intersection of equi-distant lines, could be traced through the Arabian to the Greek fret.

The Moorish system of decoration reached its culminating point in the ornament of the Alhambra. Owen Jones says: “The Alhambra is at the very summit of perfection of Moorish art ... every principle which we can derive from the study of the ornamental art of any other people is not only ever present here, but was by the Moors more universally and truly obeyed. We find in the Alhambra the speaking art of the Egyptians, the natural grace and refinement of the Greeks, the geometrical combination of the Romans, the Byzantines, and the Arabs.

The ornament wanted but one charm, which was the peculiar feature of the Egyptian ornament—symbolism. This, the religion of the Moors forbade.”

The decoration of the Alhambra is peculiarly appropriate—the circumstances of the people rendered the ornament beautiful for that reason—when transplanted, though it loses nothing of its loveliness, it becomes inexpressive.

The Moors ever regarded what architects hold to be the first principle of architecture—to decorate construction—never to construct decoration. In Moorish architecture, not only does the decoration arise naturally from the construction, but the constructive idea is carried out in every detail of the ornamentation of the surface. A superfluous, or useless ornament is never found in Moorish decoration; every ornament arises quietly and naturally from the surface decorated.

The general forms were first cared for; these were sub-divided by general lines; the interstices were then filled in with ornament again to be sub-divided and enriched for closer inspection. The principle was carried out with the greatest refinement, and the harmony and beauty of all Moorish ornamentation derive success from its observance. The greatest distinction was thus obtained; the detail never interfering with the general form. When seen at a distance, the main lines strike the eye; on nearer approach, the detail comes into the composition; upon yet closer inspection, further detail is seen on the surface of the ornaments themselves.

To the builders of the Alhambra, harmony of form consisted in the proper balancing and contrast of the straight, the inclined, and the curved.

As in colour, there can be no composition in which either of the three primary colours is wanting, so in form, whether structural or decorative, there can be no perfect composition in which either of the three primary figures is lacking; variety and harmony in composition and design depend on the pre-dominance and subordination of the three.

In his monumental work on the ornamentation of the Alhambra, the late Owen Jones, who spent many years at Granada in collaboration with his friend, M. Jules Goury, the eminent French architect, studying the Palace of the Western Caliphs, furnishes diagrams in support of this conclusion, which are here reproduced; and, furthermore, says: “In

surface decoration, any arrangement of forms, as at A., consisting only of straight lines, is monotonous, and affords but imperfect pleasure; but, introduce lines which tend to carry the eye towards the angles, as at B., and you have at once an additional pleasure.

“Then add lines giving a circular tendency, as at C., and you have now complete harmony: in this case the square is the leading form or tonic; the angular and curved are subordinate.

“We may produce the same result in adopting an angular composition, as at D., add the lines as at E., and we at once correct the tendency to follow only the angular direction of the inclined lines; but, unite these by circles as at F., and we have harmony still more nearly perfect, i.e., repose, for the eye has now no longer any want that could be supplied.”

Still, compositions distributed in equal lines or divisions will be less beautiful than those which require a greater mental effort to appreciate them: proportions the most difficult for the eye to detect will be the most agreeable.

In surface decoration by the Moors, lines flow from a parent stem: every ornament, however distant, can be traced to its branch and root; they have the happy art of so adapting the ornament to the surface decorated, that the ornament as often appears to have suggested the general form as to have been suggested by it. In all cases we find the foliage flowing out of a parent stem, and we are never offended, as in modern practice, by the random introduction of an ornament set down without a reason for its existence. However irregular the space they have to fill, they always commence by dividing it into equal areas, and round these trunk lines they fill in their detail, but invariably return to their parent stem.

The Moors also followed another principle, that of radiation from the parent stem, as we may see exemplified in nature by the human hand, or in a chestnut leaf. When style becomes debased, neither of these laws is followed; as in Elizabethan ornament, where nothing is continuous, nothing radiates, all is haphazard.

All junctions of curved lines with curved, or of curved with straight, should be tangential to each other. The Oriental practice always accords with this principle. Many of their ornaments are on the principle which is observable in the lines of a feather and in the articulations of a leaf; and to this is due that additional charm found in all perfect ornamentation, which is called “the graceful.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A further charm is found in the works of the Arabs and Moors from their conventional treatment of ornament, which, forbidden as they were by their creed to represent living forms, they carried to the highest perfection. They ever worked as Nature works, but always avoided a direct transcript; they took her principles, but did not attempt to copy her works.

It is true that the Arabs in Spain, as already pointed out, once or twice allowed themselves to disregard the behests of the Korán, as instanced in the Fountain of Lions, and the bas-relief which is now preserved in the Museum of the Alhambra; but the Mohammedan mosques of Egypt, India, and Spain, show everywhere the calm, voluptuous translation of the doctrines of the Korán: an art in unison with its imaginative and poetic teachings which led them to adorn their temples in a manner peculiar to themselves.

The colours employed by the Moors on their stucco work were in all cases, the primaries—blue, red, and yellow (gold). The secondary colours—purple, green, and orange, occur only in the Mosaic dados; which, being near the eye, formed a point of repose from the more brilliant colouring above. It is true that, at the present day, the grounds of many of the ornaments are found to be green; it will readily be seen, however, on a minute examination, that the colour originally employed was blue, which, being a metallic pigment, has become green from the effects of time. This is proved by the presence of particles of blue colour, which occur everywhere in the crevices: in the “restorations” also, which were made by the Catholic kings, green and purple were freely used.

The colouring of the Courts and Halls of the Alhambra was carried out on so perfect a motive, that anyone who cares to make this a study, can, with almost absolute certainty, on being shown for the first time a piece of Moorish ornament in white, define at once the manner in which it was coloured. So completely were all the architectural forms designed, with reference to their subsequent colouring, that the surface alone will indicate the colours they were destined to receive.

Notwithstanding the fact that the Moors, in their marvellous system of decoration, worked on fixed rules, the effect of their infinite variety leaves the observer under the impression that they arrived at their amazing achievements by instinct, to which centuries of refinement had brought them. One person may naturally sing in tune as another does by acquired knowledge. The happier state, however, is where knowledge ministers to instinct, and this must have been the case with the Moors. Their poet exhorts us to attentively contemplate the adornments of the Palace, and so reap the benefit of a commentary on decoration; this invitation seems to imply that there was in their works something to be learned as well as much that might be felt.

Mr. Owen Jones admits that there is no authority for the gilding of the columns: wherever the columns are of marble, the shafts are always free from traces of colour of any kind. Gold, blue, and red are still seen on most of the capitals, and, in some cases, the plaster half-columns against the walls are covered by mosaic of a small pattern in glazed earthenware. Nevertheless, the eminent authority on decoration is strongly of opinion that the marble shafts could never have been, originally, left entirely white; and, furthermore, he thinks that the general harmony of the colouring above forbids such a supposition; but the conclusion seems to be erroneous, when it is remembered that the shafts of the columns are compared, in the graceful hyperbole of the Inscriptions, to “transparent crystal;” and, again, “when struck by the earliest beams of the rising sun, maybe likened to many blocks of pearl.” Therefore, in view of the poetic reference by Moorish versifiers, and the utter absence of any trace of colour on the marble, it has been thought befitting to omit the gilding of the shafts in the many reproductions in this volume from the beautiful coloured plates in the work of Owen Jones. It should be recorded here that the book alluded to is dedicated “To the Memory of Jules Goury, Architect, who died of Cholera, at Granada, August 28th, 1834, whilst engaged in preparing the original drawings for this work.”

Amongst the illustrations appearing on p. xlix. supra, which principally consist of cornices, capitals, and columns in the Alhambra, is a motto in Roman characters: TĀTO·MŌTA—Tanto Monta—pertaining to Ferdinand and Isabella, and which is somewhat out of place in a page otherwise devoted to Moorish ornament. The motto, of course, signifies tantamount, and is meant to express an equality in power between the two Sovereigns; Isabella zealously maintaining that her right of exercising the royal authority was equivalent to that of her royal consort: “Tanto monta Isabella que Hernando, Hernando que Isabella”—of equal worth are Isabella and Ferdinand. The motto appears in relief in the Court of the Lions.

Acknowledgment is made to the work of the late James Cavanah Murphy, Arabian Antiquities of Spain, Lond., 1815, to which source we are indebted for some of the illustrations to the present volume. Mr. Murphy faithfully delineated, and admirably engraved the arabesques and mosaics of the superb Courts and Halls of the Palace of the Alhambra at Granada.

For the rest, it may be said that a vast number of plates have been specially prepared for the present volume; and it is thought a confident expectation may be indulged of a favourable reception to an attempt at preserving the reliques of a romantic pile—the glory and the wonder of a civilised world.

THE ancient citadel and residence of the Moorish monarchs of Granada is, indisputably, the most curious, and in some ways the most marvellous building that exists in the whole world. In its period, its architectural style, and artistic effect, it is not without its counterpart in Southern Spain; but the Alhambra was conceived and constructed on so colossal a scale that it is accepted as the last word in Arabian workmanship. From the outside it appears to be a forbidding fortress, and, indeed, its walls are of prodigious strength; but within it is a palace that was once the most voluptuous in the makings and imaginings of man, and in which everything was made subservient to luxury.

The singular fortunes of the Arabian, or Moresco-Spaniards, whose whole existence is a tale that is told, certainly forms one of the most anomalous, yet splendid episodes in history. Potent and durable as was their dominion, we have no one distinct title by which to designate them. They were a nation, as it were, without a legitimate country or a name: a remote wave of the great Arabian inundation cast upon the shores of Europe. From the year 710, when the Arab general Tarif landed at the port which bears his name, and plundered Algeciras, to be succeeded in the following year by a greater soldier, Geb-al-Tarik, whose name survives in the title of “The Rock”—a familiar designation very dear to Englishmen—the course of Moorish conquest from Gibraltar to the cliffs of the Pyrenees was as rapid and brilliant as the ancient Moslem victories of Syria and Egypt. Nay, had they not been checked on the Plains of Tours by Charles Martel, who that day gained his sobriquet—“The Hammerer”—all France, all Europe might have succumbed to the ravages of the Saracenic warriors as completely as the empires of the East were made to yield, and the crescent might have glittered on the fanes of Paris and of London.

Repelled within the limits of the Pyrenees, the mixed hordes of Asia and Africa that formed this great irruption, gave up the Moslem principle of conquest, and sought to establish in Spain a peaceable and permanent dominion. As conquerors, their heroism was only equalled by their moderation; and in

both, for a time, they excelled the nations with whom they contended. Severed from their native homes, they loved the land given them, as they supposed, by Allah, and strove to adorn it with all that could minister to the happiness of man. By a system of wise and equitable laws they formed an empire unrivalled for its prosperity by any of the empires of Christendom, and diligently drew around them the graces and refinements that marked the Arabian empire in the East at the time of its

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.

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:

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

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.

 

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.

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.

“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.

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.”

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.

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

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.

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

arrest the air. Everything must float and sway; they would not bar out the chirp of the dripping silver water. They thinned and shaved the pillars till they were no longer cylinders of marble, but tender saplings, or flower-stalks, slender as spear-shafts. The spandrils are not corbelled beams, faced with gargoyle monsters, but perforated supports as to some fairy’s cabinet. There is nothing to hold up, only ivory-patterned walls, and a honeycombed dome that seems to float in mid-air.

Here it is said that thirty-six cavaliers of the heroic line of Abencerrage were sacrificed to appease the jealousy or allay the fears of a tyrant. The fountain ran red with the noblest blood of Granada; and a deep stain on the marble pavement is pointed out by the cicerone of the pile as a sanguinary record of the massacre. The discolourations must be regarded with the same perfect faith with which one looks upon the traditional stains of Rizzio’s blood on the floor of the chamber of the unhappy Queen Mary at Holyrood. Who desires to be sceptical on such points of popular belief? The enlightenment of the happy reader of De Foe’s immortal romance—happy in the masterly illusion of the author—robbed him of one of the chief delights of his life. If there is any country in Europe where it is easy to live in the romantic and fabulous traditions of the past, it is in legendary, proud-spirited, romantic Spain, where the old, magnificent, barbaric spirit even now contends with modern innovation.

In the silent halls of the Alhambra, surrounded with the insignia of regal sway, and vivid with traces of Oriental voluptuousness, everything speaks and breathes of the glorious days of Granada when under the dominion of the Crescent. In the proudest days of Moslem domination, the Abencerrages were the soul of everything noble and chivalrous. The veterans of the family, who sat in the royal Council, were the foremost to devise those heroic enterprises which carried dismay into the territories of the Christian; and what the sages of the family devised, the young men of the name were prompt to execute. In all services of hazard, in all adventurous forays, the Abencerrages were sure to win the brightest laurels. In those noble recreations, too, which bear so close an affinity to war, still the Abencerrages carried off the palm. None could equal them in splendour of array, in gallantry of device, or in their noble bearing and glorious horsemanship. Their open-handed munificence made them the idols of the populace, while their lofty magnanimity and perfect faith gained them golden opinions from the generous and high-minded; the “word of an Abencerrage” was a guarantee that never admitted doubt.

The main facts connected with the fate of the chieftains of that generous but devoted race seem to have been ascertained, leaving little doubt of this hall having been the scene of their calamitous end. Alas! that boudoirs made for love and life should witness scenes of hatred and of death; and let none presume to “peep and botanize” over-much, for nothing is more certain than that heroic blood can never be effaced, still less if shed in most unnatural murder. Nor, according to Lady Macbeth, will “all the perfumes of Arabia” serve to sweeten the foul deed. The blood at least is genuine to all intentions of romance as that of “the gentle Lutenist” at Holyrood, or of Becket at the shrine of Canterbury. It behoves us to beware of those dull people who, deprived of imagination, pretend to judgment; and who would abolish the midsummer fairies, or proscribe old Æsop; there is no faith in them.

All who visit the Alhambra are sure to make for the fountain

 

 

where the Abencerrages were beheaded, the more credulous looking with interest upon the natural reddish-brown veins of the marble, which are supposed to be indelible blood-stains. It is said that Boabdil resolved upon the extirpation of the noble family of the Abencerrages in consequence of the alleged discovery of an intrigue, including a false charge of infidelity against his gentle queen, and directed the decapitation of thirty-six of

them in this Hall. The story has passed into ballads, dramas, and romances, until it has grown too strong to be eradicated. Boabdil, however, was of a mild and amiable character, if wavering and irresolute; and too gracious to have ordered so inhuman a massacre as the execution of thirty-six of not only a gallant, but a powerful and numerous family, with many friends. The truth is, it was Boabdil’s father, Muley-Abu-l-Hasen, represented by both Christian and Arabian chroniclers as of a cruel and ferocious nature, who unjustly put to death some cavaliers of the illustrious line upon suspicion of their being engaged in a conspiracy to dispossess him.

It so happens that the fame of Boabdil the Unlucky can be cleared of such infamy as the wholesale massacre of the Abencerrages through direct evidence afforded by a contemporary Hispano-Moresque ballad, “Ay de mi Alhama!” written in 1482, and which Lord Byron has made familiar by his version, “A very mournful Ballad on the siege and conquest of Alhama.”

The fact that Muley-Abu-l-Hasen in vain invested the castle and town of Alhama[11] after its capture by the Marquis of Cadiz, and the direct reference in the ballad to its loss, ascribed to the wrath of Allah at the wickedness of the King, clearly exonerates Boabdil from the crime of his father.

* * * * * *

* * * * * *

With the loss of the two “Keys” to Granada—Loja and Alhama—both being forthwith heavily garrisoned by the

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Christians, the reduction of the last stronghold of the Moors became only a question of time. As we know, the surrender of Granada took place within four years after the fall of Loja.

But it is not the history of the Dominion and Expulsion, so much as the description of the Hall of the Abencerrages, that demands attention at present.

After the glories of the Sala de las Dos Hermanas, the Hall of the Abencerrages, elegant as it is, pales somewhat in interest. There are but few inscriptions here. It has been repeatedly “restored,” and much of the ornament which decorates the walls seems to have been transferred from the Hall of The Two Sisters. The arches, however, appear in their original state, and are most beautiful in general form, as in their surface decoration. The manner in which the arch-form gradually grows out from the shaft of the column is exquisite. In the centre of the Hall is the famous “Fountain,” with the waters of which the blood of the Abencerrage chieftains is said to have mingled.

The beautiful wooden doors to the Hall of the Abencerrages existed in their places, and in perfect condition till the summer of 1837, when they were removed and sawn in halves by the then resident Governor of the Alhambra for the purpose of stopping a gap in another part of the Palace; and, as they proved too large for the openings to which they were applied, the superfluous parts were broken up for firewood!

The doors are of white wood, with similar mouldings and ornaments on either side; the decorations were originally in colour, traces of which may still be discovered. The folding doors are hung on pivots, which are let into the socket of a marble slab below, and above into the soffit of a beam which crosses the colonnade of the Court of the Lions. This method of hanging the doors is precisely similar to that adopted in ancient temples, and is still practised throughout the East. The manner in which the bolt secures, at the same time, both flaps of the larger doors and the wicket, is full of ingenuity.

Don Rafaél Contreras caused these doors, or what remained of them, to be replaced in the position for which they were originally intended. He found the fragments amid the lumber of the palace! His own words are: “Nous l’avons restaurée en 1856, l’ayant trouvé brisée en quatre morceaux, abandonnée dans les magasins du palais”—They were found, broken into four pieces, in the lumber rooms of the palace.

This Court was called in former times Patio de los Arrayanes—the Court of the Myrtles—by reason of its beautiful flowering shrubs which gem either side of the Fishpond; trim myrtle hedges, and orange trees rising beside the water.

To enter the Court of the Fish-pond is to be straightway translated to the palace of Haroun-al-raschid: Granada changes to Damascus. The Moorish arches, springing from slender palm-tree shafts, are of bewildering beauty; the walls, no longer forbidding blocks of stone, but pierced trellises, that turn sunlight and moonlight into patterns resembling so much Venetian filigree. “Surely they are needle-work turned to stone,” says a traveller of long ago; “or some great Sultán has built them with panels cut from caskets of Indian ivory, though the piecing be not seen. The myrtles grow green and glossy round the great marble tank, 150 feet long, which flows with mellow water, in which burnished fish—some apparently red-hot, others of molten silver—steer, flirt, skim, and splash. Never stop to think that the dry, whity-brown, tubular-tiled, sloping roofs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ought to be flat, and are not now Moorish; do not pause to imagine the pierced marble balustrade that once walled-in this bathing-place of the dark-skinned people; nor picture glowing Bathsebas—Rubens’ group of floating, and laughing Sultánas, with female black slaves watching their gambols from under the shady portico. Air and water are the perpetual treasures of this place, and I tasted them both gratefully as I strode under the pointed arches, away from the burning lashes of the sun that drove me under cover.”

The transverse section of the Court, looking towards the palace of Charles V. (see p. 356), forms a beautiful arcade: the slender columns which support the arches would appear unequal to their superincumbent weight were not the spandrils lightened by perforations. The construction of these arches is remarkable for its simplicity. Over the columns, which are of white marble, are built brick piers, and the spandrils of the arches are filled in with tiles placed diagonally. To these are attached perforated plaster ornaments, which give a singularly light and elegant appearance to the arches, and at the same time, by freely admitting currents of air, distribute a delicious coolness through the Courts.

It will be observed that the ornaments in plaster, with which the walls of the Court of the Fish-pond are covered, are in a better state of preservation than similar decorations in other parts of the Palace.

The windows over the entrance doorway are formed of ribs of plaster, and it is thought that these were once filled with stained glass. No traces of such glazing can now be discovered; the conjecture seems to have arisen from the fact that a wall here, next the Hall of Ambassadors, has similar blank windows in which small spaces are painted of various colours. Between the windows, and at the angles, are four escutcheons of the Kings of Granada with the oft-repeated motto: “There is no Conqueror but God;” the whole being enclosed within a cipher, formed by the word signifying “Grace” written twice in Cufic characters, and so interwoven that it may be read from right to left, and from left to right. On the ribs of the window is the word signifying “Blessing,” in Cufic characters, with this peculiarity, that the first two letters are enclosed within a cipher formed by the two last. This device also is so ingeniously written that the word may be read both ways. On six escutcheons, at the sides, the word signifying “Blessing” is treated in the same skilful manner.

Immediately over the Mosaic under the gallery is an inscription of twelve verses in African characters, full of Oriental hyperbole, but perhaps inferior in composition to those already selected from the Hall of The Two Sisters.

Under the galleries, at the north and south ends of the Court, are four recesses, profusely ornamented, elaborate, and

 

 

beautiful; well preserved, and retaining much of their original colour.

From amongst the inscriptions of the Court of the Fish-pond it may be permitted to print two or three:

“Go and tell true believers that Divine help and ready victory are reserved for them. (From the sixty-first chapter of the Koràn).

“I am like the nuptial array of a bride, endowed with every beauty and perfection.

“Truly, Ibn Nasr is the sun, shining in splendour;

“May he continue in the noon-tide of his glory even unto the period of his decline.”

In the Court of the Fish-pond is an arch which differs in character from all others existing in the Alhambra: it has the peculiarity of presenting one surface only of decoration, with a principal or guiding figure made out by colours. The ornaments bear a much nearer resemblance to natural forms than in other parts of the Palace; and the whole arch has more of the Persian character of decoration.

“From the lower end of the Court of the Alberca,” says Irving, “we passed through a Moorish archway into the renowned Court of Lions. There is no part of the edifice that

gives a more complete idea of its original beauty and magnificence, for not any portion has suffered so little from the ravages of time. In the centre stands the fountain famous in song and story. The alabaster basins still shed their diamond drops; and the twelve lions which support them cast forth their crystal streams as in the days of Boabdil. When one looks upon the fairy tracery of the peristyles, and the apparently fragile fret-work of the walls, it is difficult to believe that so much has survived the wear and tear of centuries, the shocks of earthquake, the violence of war, and the quiet, though no less baneful, pilferings of the tasteful traveller: it is almost sufficient to excuse the popular tradition, that the whole is protected by a magic charm.”

The Court of the Lions, takes its name from the fountain in the centre supported by twelve sculptured lions. The Court is a parallelogram of 100 feet by 50 feet, and is surrounded by a portico, with small pavilions at either end. The portico and pavilions consist of 128 columns, supporting arches of the most delicate and elaborate construction, which still retain much of their original beauty. The irregularity in the arrangement of the

columns, which are placed sometimes singly, and sometimes in pairs, does not detract from the general harmony; but, on the contrary, a charming effect is produced by this capricious departure from uniformity. The capitals, though similar in outline, offer a great variety in their foliage; and though the same design is more than once repeated in this Court, no attempt appears to have been made towards a symmetrical arrangement.

The ceiling of the portico is decorated in the most complex manner, the stucco being laid on with inimitable delicacy—it is so cunningly handled as to exceed belief.

The walls are covered, to a height of five feet, with tiles of blue and yellow chequy, with a border of small escutcheons enamelled blue and gold, bearing an Arabic motto on a Bend.

About each arch is arabesque work, surrounded with a rim of characters, consisting, for the most part, of verses from the Koràn. Unhappily, a modern roof of red tiles disfigures this beautiful Court, which is the most highly-prized fountain-court in the Palace.

In the centre of the Court are the twelve marble lions, conventionally treated. Supported on the backs of the animals is the beautiful basin of the fountain—in form, a dodecagon—out of which rises a lesser basin. A large volume of water falling into

 

 

 

 

 

 

the basins, once issued from the mouths of the lions to a large reservoir, whence it was conveyed to the apartments of the Palace. Notwithstanding that these lions exhibit the want of development in the art of sculpture amongst the Arabs, they yet possess a spirited, if primitive, grace.

The inscription around the basin has been variously given: the rendering of Pascual de Gayángos is regarded as the most

authoritative. The verses, which may, perhaps, consist of twelve or so, are couched in the usual double-shotted language of the Oriental. Two or three are subjoined:

“Blessed be He who gave the Imam Mohammed a mansion which in beauty excels all other mansions.

“Look at this solid mass of pearl glistening all around, which falls within a circle of silvery froth, and then flows amidst translucent jewels of surpassing loveliness; exceeding the marble in whiteness, and the alabaster in transparency.

“O thou who beholdest these lions couching, fear not; life is wanting to enable them to show their fury.”

The salutary warning here given irresistibly reminds one of “the shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort” with whom the mad spirit, Robin Goodfellow, made such frolic—the immortal

Athenian weaver, who opines—“To bring in—God shield us!—a lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living.” Yet the admonition may not have been altogether superfluous amongst the beauties of the hareem, who seldom contemplated graven images. It must not be forgotten, moreover, that the Mohammedans of Spain were somewhat lax in the matter of obedience to certain precepts of the Koràn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Although the upper parts of the walls are only coated with plaster, strengthened with reeds, centuries of neglect have not sufficed to destroy this slight, “aerie, faerie” thing of filigree, which has not even the appearance of durability. Wherever the destroyer has mutilated the fragile ornaments, “the temple-haunting

martlet, guest of summer,” builds his nest and careers in the delicate air, breaking, with his twitter, the silence of these sunny, now deserted courts, once made for Oriental delights, and even now the place in which to read the Arabian Nights, or spend a honeymoon—

Beyond where the fountain bubbles in the Court of the Fish-pond, is the oblong Hall of the Barque, which is still as radiant with colours as the edge of fading evening cloud. The rivers of poems that fret the walls sing the praises of some long dead Sultán, who conquered twenty fortresses, and whose excellence, running clear through his great deeds, was as the silk thread that carries a necklace of pearls.

“The ceiling of the Hall of the Barque,” says Owen Jones, “is a wagon-headed dome of wood, of the most elaborate patterns, receiving its support from pendentives of mathematical construction so curious, that they may be rendered susceptible of combinations as various as the melodies which may be produced from the seven notes of the musical scale; attesting the wonderful power and effect obtained by the repetition of the most simple elements.”

Alas! it must be added that this beautiful Hall was greatly injured by a fire, which took place in September, 1890.

After traversing the Hall of the Barque, we come upon the Hall of Ambassadors—the Golden Saloon—with a dome which bursts like a flower-bell upon the sight. The most

 

 

beautiful thing about these Moorish domes is, not their grand poise and balance, but the airiness of them. They seem mere resting clouds swelling round you and canopying you with colour. You have no sense of their weight or means of permanency. The stalactite ornament, as it is called, seems fashioned in emulous rivalry of golden-celled honeycomb, in which honey still rests; honey, dyed by the juices of the flowers from which it has been drawn. The walls are like the leaves of illuminated missals, framed by cornices of poem and prayer.

The Hall of Ambassadors is a square of thirty-seven feet, and is sixty feet high from the floor to the centre of the dome. It is the largest, as well as the most imposing of the Halls of the Alhambra, though in arrangement and symmetry of details less perfect than the Hall of The Two Sisters.

Inscriptions of verses from the Koràn abound amongst the decorations.

The present ceiling of the Hall of the Ambassadors is a dome of wood, ornamented by ribs intersecting each other in various patterns in gold, on grounds of blue and red. The ceiling is ingenious in construction and beautiful in detail. Owen Jones thinks that an arch of brick was originally thrown across the hall, which gave way after the completion of the building, carrying with it an earlier ceiling, which was afterwards replaced by the present dome.

In the centre divan, on the north side of the Hall, there is

a most beautiful Mosaic dado, as perfect as when originally executed, and which seems to be imperishable. It is formed of baked clay, squeezed into moulds of the different figures, glazed on the surface, and bevelled slightly on the edge. Thus, when necessary, the Mosaics were not only easily withdrawn from the moulds, but, when united, they formed a key for the mortar. In this particular recess, doubtless, was the throne of the Moorish kings, as indicated both by the inscriptions on the walls, and the extraordinary care bestowed upon the decoration of the recess.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Mosaic dados present a great variety in their patterns, the combinations being endless.

“The colours of blue, red, and gold are still to be seen on the capital of the column of the centre window of the Hall, but no traces of gold, or any colour, have been discovered

on the shaft. The same thing occurs in the Court of the Fish-pond and the Court of the Lions, but, in each case, the harmony of the colouring appears to require that they should be gilt. It is probable that in the restorations which the Palace underwent during the residence of the Spanish kings, it was found much more easy to remove the gold from the columns, exposing the white marble, than to incur the expense of re-

gilding.” Such is the opinion of the famous decorative artist, Owen Jones; but the fondness of the Oriental for the spotless purity of marble, and the transparency of alabaster, so oft expressed in the inscriptions, forbids its acceptance.

In the several alcoves, or divans, which surround the Hall, the walls are covered with plaster ornaments in relief, presenting the greatest variety; the patterns in each divan being different.

Beneath this Golden Saloon is a network of dungeon-like passages, by which, it is said, Sultáns escaped in treasonable revolts, when angry scimitars were glittering in the fountain-courts, or when the incensed populace were tossing their threatening spears in the humming city below. Here is also a prison-cell sort of room, with whispering holes at each end, which

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Philip the Second built to amuse the wretched child, Don Carlos. Also a vaulted cellar, where some rude sculpture has been immured by the prudish monks.

The exquisite façade of this Court is much disfigured by a modern gallery. From the portions which remain, however, the general design may be traced with tolerable certainty.

The inscriptions are few and unimportant, consisting, for the most part, of the constantly-recurring motto: “There is no Conqueror but God,” and some verses from the Koran.

The grand Mosque of the Alhambra was built in 1308 by Mohammed III., and was in good preservation until the occupation of the French, who, says Don Pascual de Gayángos, entirely destroyed it. It has been thus described by Ibnu-l-Khattíb, the Grand Wizír of Yúsuf I.: “It is ornamented with Mosaic work, and exquisite tracery of the most beautiful and intricate patterns, intermixed with silver flowers and graceful arches, supported by innumerable pillars of polished marble; indeed, what with the solidity of the structure, which the Sultán inspected in person, the elegance of the design, and the beauty of the proportions, the building has not its like in this country; and I have frequently heard our best architects say that they had never seen or heard of a building which can be compared to it.”

The old Mosque, afterwards a chapel, was “purged” and consecrated by Ferdinand and Isabella, and retains but few traces of its purpose during the Moorish Dominion. The door was once overlaid with bronze, and, like all the rest of the Palace, was stripped and spoiled by generations of guardian thieves, who allowed no one but themselves to steal. Above the door is still the exquisite-laced niche where the Korán used to be placed by the green-turbaned Moollahs. Near the entrance is an elaborate and beautiful niche, which was probably the Mihráb, or sanctuary of the Mosque. Whilst at his prayers in this Mihráb, the martyred Yúsuf—he who built the Gate of Justice in 1348, and who completed the Alhambra—fell a victim to the dagger of an assassin in the year 1354. The inscriptions in the Mosque, which were dumb to the conquerors, still protest for the old faith, and cry aloud from barge-board and netted rafter, “Be not one of the negligent.” “God is our refuge in every time of trouble.”

The plan of these Baths is very similar to the arrangement still used throughout the East.

From the elegant little saloon at the entrance where the bathers unrobed, and whither they resorted after the bath, we pass, by a circuitous passage, in which are two smaller baths, into the general vapour-bath, paved with white marble, and lighted with openings in the form of stars, lined with glazed earthenware. This corresponds with the apartment called by the Arabs the hararah, or vapour-bath, and described in Lane’s Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians; and it was under the graceful arcades which support the dome that the bathers

 

 

underwent the attentions of the masseuses who waited on them. From the great hall we pass into a smaller one, having at each end a marble tank, used for solitary ablutions. Beyond, at the present day, an accumulated heap of ruins prevents the recognition of the means for heating the bath.

The upper part of the Chamber of Repose, which is supported on marble columns, forms a gallery with small divans, in which two persons, or, at most, four, could be accommodated at

the same time; from which it would appear that the bath was confined entirely to the use of the sovereign and his hareem. The floor is paved with beautiful Mosaics, which are in perfect preservation.

Inscription: “What is most to be wondered at is the felicity which awaits men in this palace of delight.”

Los Baños are well preserved, for they lie out of the way of ordinary ill-usage. The vapour-bath is lighted from above by small lumbreras, or “louvres.”

The Mirador—Prospect-chamber—of “Lindaraja” overlooks this secluded little court or garden, with its alabaster fountain, its cypress, orange, and citron trees rising from trim

hedges of myrtles and roses. The Mirador is a charming little apartment of fifteen feet by ten feet, or thereabouts, with three tall windows protected by jalousies. It is ordinarily and

erroneously pointed out as the residence of Washington Irving during his abode in the Palace in 1829. His apartments were, however, in the Mihráb Tower, now known as the Tocador de la Reina.

so called by the Spaniards, is about nine feet square. It was,

in part, modernised and painted in arabesque by Charles V. In a corner is a marble slab drilled with holes, through which, it is said, perfumes were wafted while the Queen was dressing.

It is not unimportant to locate precisely the dwelling-place of Washington Irving during his sojourn in the Alhambra in 1829. It was in the suite of rooms annexed to the Queen’s Dressing-room that he took up his quarters. The kindly American genius, who regarded Englishmen as his own kith and kin, makes it quite plain. He says: “On taking up my abode in the Alhambra, one end of a suite of empty chambers of modern architecture, intended for the residence of the

Governor, was fitted up for my reception. It was in front of the Palace.... I was dissatisfied with being lodged in a modern apartment.... I found, in a remote gallery, a door, communicating apparently with an extensive apartment, locked against the public.... I procured the key, however, without

 

 

difficulty; the door opened to a range of vacant chambers of European architecture, though built over a Moorish arcade.... This fanciful suite of rooms terminated in an open gallery with balustrades, which ran at right angles with a side of the garden. The whole apartment had a delicacy and elegance in its decorations, and there was something so choice and sequestered in its situation along with this retired little garden, that it awakened an interest in its history. I found, on inquiry, that it was an apartment fitted up at the time when Philip V. and the beautiful Elizabeth of Parma were expected at the Alhambra, and was destined for the Queen and the ladies of her train. One of the loftiest chambers had been her sleeping-room; and a narrow staircase leading from it ... opened to the delightful belvedere, originally a mirador of the Moorish Sultanás, but fitted up as a boudoir for the fair Elizabeth, and which still retains the name of the tocador or toilette of the Queen. The sleeping-room I have mentioned, commanded from one window a prospect of the Generalife and its embowered terraces.... I determined at once to take up my quarters in this apartment. My determination occasioned great surprise ... but I was not diverted from my humour.”

This Tower is said to descend seven stories under ground. Four subterranean chambers have been investigated. Divers marvellous tales are related concerning this building, in which the Moorish kings are believed to have deposited their treasures. Here, according to fable, is heard the clash of arms, and of soldiers seen stationed to guard immense treasures.

is a Moorish postern gate crowned with minarets. The openings in the Tower for dropping missiles upon assailants are of the time of the Catholic Sovereigns. It is said that the

French intended to blow up this Tower—the holes made by the sappers yet remain—but the procrastination of their agents saved the building. From this postern, a path, crossing the ravine, leads up to the Generalife.

The whole interior of this gigantic Tower is occupied by the Hall of the Ambassadors which is described supra.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here, an inscription records, the Christian flag was first hoisted by the Cardinal Mendoza and his brother. The panorama from the roof of this Tower is glorious. Below, lies Granada, belted with plantations; beyond, expands the Vega, guarded like an Eden by a wall of mountains. It is a scene for painters to sketch and for poets to describe.

The Torre de la Vela is so called, because on this watch-tower hangs a silver-tongued bell, which is heard on a still night even at Loja, thirty miles away. The bell is rung on 2nd January, the anniversary of the surrender of Granada. Maidens come on this day to strike the bell, which act ensures a

husband, and of excellence in proportion to the noise made, which, it need not be said, is considerable and continuous.

On the north-east wall of the fortress are several towers partly in ruin, which retain traces of beautiful decorations in the interior. The Torre del Cautivo and the Torre de las Infantas are the best preserved. They appear to have formed detached habitations complete in themselves; and from their position in this retired part of the fortress, and the extreme beauty of the internal decorations, there can be little doubt that they were isolated residences of favourite Sultanás.

The Homage Tower rises at the end of the Pelota, or Fives, Court, the wall of which much disfigures the Place of the Cisterns. In this Homage Tower is a Roman votive altar, embedded by the Moors in the masonry, inscribed by “the grateful Valerius to his most indulgent wife, Cornelia.”

Close to the two Towers, Del Candil and De la Cautiva, is the corner Tower De la Aqua, where an aqueduct, stemming the ravine, supplies the hill with water.

The interior of the Ladies’ Tower was formerly remarkable for an alcove of extraordinary beauty. The Tower is isolated, and, unfortunately, a tourist purchased it for a trifling sum. After stripping the marvellous decoration—a masterpiece of Yúsuf I.—the aforesaid traveller magnanimously presented the denuded carcass to the State.

In a chamber near to the entrance of the Court of the Lions, a collection of Moorish remains has been brought together. A conspicuous object is the marble sarcophagus, or tank, brought from the Alcazába, with basso-relievos of animals;

 

 

among them the “deer-slaying lion,” which occurs so often in Greek art, and, like the Mithraic daughter of the bull, may be the symbol of some hieratic mystery, possibly the triumph of the evil principle. It is difficult to say whether this rude

sculpture is antique or Moorish. An Arabic inscription is carried round the border, but this may be later than the carving; at all events, stags are animals connected by the Orientals with the fountain—“As the hart panteth for the water-brooks”—and the Spanish Moors, among other departures from strict Moslem rules, did not reject either paintings or carvings of living objects. The splendid vase, el jarro, has been brought hither from the Hall of the Two Sisters, and is described at page 76, with a plate at page 95.

On one side of the Plaza de los Algibes—Place of the

Cisterns—is an isolated Moorish tower called La Torre del Vino, built in 1345, by Yúsuf I., and remarkable for its exquisite arch, called the “Wine Gate” (see page 133). Opposite is the large Palace begun by Charles V., great in conception and impotent in conclusion, unfurnished and roofless. To make way for this edifice, Charles destroyed large portions of what the Moors had raised, tearing down whole ranges of the Alhambra.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This pile of buildings, commenced for Charles V., was never finished, in consequence of his frequent absence, occasioned by the almost perpetual wars in which he was engaged, particularly in his efforts to suppress the insurrections of the Moors in the Alpujarras, and elsewhere.[12] The spot chosen for

the site of the Palace commands a most beautiful view of the city of Granada, as well as its surrounding Vega. As a specimen of Spanish architecture, it reflects the highest credit on Pedro Machuca, who began it in 1526. It is, in every way, adapted to the climate; and its interior, which, in its chief feature, takes a circular form, is spacious and splendid. In any other situation the Palace of Charles V. would justly excite admiration: but here it is misplaced. With all its grandeur and architectural excellence, Washington Irving could only look upon the structure as “an arrogant intrusion.” It is falling rapidly to decay. The walls are crumbling, the wood-work is rotten, and the splendid apartments—all that resulted from an intention to eclipse the palace of the Moslem kings—are given up to bats and owls.

This projected Palace, begun in 1526, progressed slowly until 1633, and was then abandoned. Whatever beauty there is in the Spanish Palace at Granada, is external. On the other hand, the Moors were content with the beauty of the interior of the Alhambra.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE Generalife is called by the Spaniards Cuarto Real, signifying a diminutive royal palace—an appanage, or “fourth part” of the Alhambra.

In point of situation, the royal villa, or “pleasaunce,” of the Moorish Kings of Granada, is fully equal to the site chosen for the erection of the Alhambra. It stands upon an acclivity, behind which are lovely gardens, extensively timbered with trees of gigantic growth, where nightingales sing themselves hoarse in shrubberies rendered luxuriant by soft, refreshing rivulets. In the Generalife may be seen many Cufic inscriptions: the white tiles with golden scrolls occur nowhere else. The Cuarto Real and its beautiful gardens once belonged to Dalahorra, mother of “Muley Hasen,” and within three months of the capitulation of Granada they were ceded to Alonzo de Valiza, prior of Santa Cruz of Avila. Ford made an abstract of the original conveyance by which we learn how Alonzo de Valiza took possession. “Don Alonzo entered the garden pavilion, affirming loudly that he had made an entry; next, he opened and shut the door, locking it, and giving the key into the custody of one Macafreto, a well-known householder of Granada; he then went into the garden, where he severed the branch of a tree and dug up some earth with a spade, thus exercising his rights of proprietorship.” Such was the practice of conveyancing in the time of the Moors.

A gateway of the Cuarto Real, called Puerta del Pescado, is of Moorish origin, and has three arches.

A picturesque ravine divides the hill of the Alhambra from the Sierra del Sol. Here, the approach is under a high embowered avenue of fig trees and myrtles. The situation of the Generalife—Jennatu-l-’arif—[13] “The Garden of the Architect”—proved so entrancing to the Sultán Isma’il-Ibn Faraj that he was not at rest until he had erected this mountain villa as an abode for the “Light of his Hareem,” a summer-house, devoted to seclusion, pleasure, and luxury:

Once again the pages of the Grand Wizír Ibnu-l-Khattíb furnish testimony at first hand of transactions in which his ungrateful master, Mohammed V., was involved, and who owed his safety to an accidental visit to the Generalife.

A conspiracy, having for its object the dethronement of Mohammed V., and the usurpation of his half-brother, Isma’il, succeeded only too well. The mother of Isma’il, soon after the death of Yúsuf I., when Mohammed had rightfully ascended the throne of Granada, created a party against the monarch, and had attached to her faction all the discontented. The castle of the Alhambra was surprised in August, 1359. The conspirators, having liberated Isma’il from his place of confinement, mounted him upon a horse and proclaimed him through

 

 

the city as their Sultán. How Mohammed had the good fortune to escape is thus set forth by his Wizír:

“At the time these events were taking place, the Sultán Mohammed was absent from the Alhambra, having gone, together with a son of his, to reside at a delightful country seat close to Granada, called Jennatu-l-’arif, a spot well known for the luxuriance of its trees, which never admit the rays of the sun,

as well as for the healthfulness of the air, which is continually refreshed by running streams of limpid water. This garden is only separated from the royal residence by a high and strong wall, defended by a deep moat. In this place the Sultán was suddenly awakened by the clatter of arms, the cries of the assailants, and the beating of drums in the distance. Not knowing what caused the tumult, Mohammed went out in the direction of the Alhambra; but, finding that the conspirators occupied all the avenues, he retraced his steps, and Allah was pleased to provide for his salvation; for, having mounted a fleet horse, which was always kept saddled and prepared for him, he galloped off to Guadix, where he arrived safely the same morning, and presented himself to the governor of the castle, who was very far from suspecting what had happened. Mohammed was immediately waited upon by the chief inhabitants of the place who all swore to protect him, so that he not only reigned undisturbed over Guadix and its immediate neighbourhood, but soon found himself at the head of devoted followers who hastened to him from all parts.”

Meanwhile, his brother, the usurper, despatched an embassy to the King of Castile, offering to renew the treaty of peace then existing between the two countries. The Castilian King (Pedro I.), happening then to be at war with the people of Barcelona, readily assented to the proposal, and ratified the usurper’s occupation of Granada. Isma’il, however, did not long enjoy the power he had seized. He was besieged in the Alhambra by Abú ’Abdillah, afterwards Mohammed VI., taken prisoner, and put to death, together with his brother, Kayes, in 1360.

The history of the dethroned king, Mohammed V., is particularly interesting for the reason that he it was who put the finishing touches to the decoration of the Alhambra, after the work was interrupted by the assassination of his father, Yúsuf I.

Immediately upon the death of Isma’il, Mohammed VI. was proclaimed king, and reigned for about two years, at the end of which period, seeing himself pressed on the one side by the rightful sovereign who burned to revenge the outrage done to him and recover the throne of his ancestors; and harassed, on the other hand, by Pedro, King of Castile; he formed the strange

 

 

 

 

resolution of throwing himself upon the protection of the latter, and repairing to his Court. “He might just as well,” says the Wizír, “have thrown himself into the jaws of a hungry tiger thirsting for blood, for no sooner had the infidel dog cast his eyes on the countless treasures which Mohammed and his chiefs had brought with them, than he conceived the wicked design of murdering them and appropriating their riches; on the second day of Rejeb, 763 (April 27, A.D. 1362) he was put to death with all his followers, at a place called Tablada, close to Seville.”

But to return to the dethroned Sultán, Mohammed V., whose history is highly romantic.

The people of Guadix continued their allegiance, protected his person, and swore to devote their lives to his cause. Pedro was but lukewarm in his behalf; and Mohammed, obtaining only vague promises from the Christian King, crossed over to Fez at the invitation of the Sultán of Western Africa (Ibnu-l-Khattíb, in his life of Mohammed V., gives the details of

this journey), and made a public entrance into Fez, where he was received with every mark of distinction.

After a long sojourn with the Sultán, Mohammed returned to Andalus in great state with a large number of followers, his adherents greatly increasing on his arrival at Guadix. All ranks flocked to his standard, the presence of the long-absent and popular sovereign infusing new vigour amongst the troops. The whole of the Gharbia, or Western districts, submitted to him. He was then enabled to take Malaga and to march upon Granada, which surrendered without opposition, and he thus saw himself once again in possession of his dominions. His triumphant entry into Granada took place April 6th, A.D. 1362, immediately before the death of the usurper, Mohammed VI., at the hands of King Pedro.

Mohammed V. reigned until the year 1391, when he was succeeded by his son, Yúsuf II.

---

To reach the summer resort of the Moorish Kings from the Alhambra, the better way is to leave the Palace by the Torre del Picos—Tower of the Peaks, or minarets—and thus approach the tall white towers and long arcades of the Generalife. To wander amidst its gardens and groves in the most sultry season is to enjoy a still more breezy region than that of the Alhambra.

The Generalife is a confluence of waters: the canal of the Darro empties its full virgin stream, and at times boils under evergreen arches through the Acequia Court.[14] In contemplation of its beauty, the present is forgotten in the past; old-world echoes still reverberate through the bemyrtled Courts, where the many flowers which enamel its terraces and aqueducts tranquilly attest that once a garden smiled:

 

 

 

 

What is pointed out as “the trysting place of the Sultána,” is a grove of cypress trees, enormous in their proportions, and old as the Moors themselves. The beautiful Zoraya, surnamed “The Morning Star,” to whom reference has been already made, is said to have been discovered under their spreading branches with her lover, the Abencerrage, but this is a calumny of the Romanceros, and they are false witnesses. The tradition is, but with little to substantiate it, that the Sultána was condemned to be burnt alive, if,

within thirty days, she did not produce four knights to defend her cause against her four accusers. The fatal day arrived; no knights appeared, when, just at the supreme moment, there came upon the scene Don Juan de Chacon, Lord of Carthagena (whom she had implored to become her champion) accompanied by three other Christian knights, all in Saracenic armour. They fought and conquered, and the last of the conspirators, with his dying breath, confessed his invention of the false charge against the Abencerrage and the innocent Sultána.

The reader who is desirous of perusing the circumstantial narrative of this supposed transaction may be referred to the late Mr. Henry Swinburne’s account in his Travels in Spain, while Mr. Peyron, in his Essays on Spain, has given a translation of an Arabian document purporting to be an official report concerning it.

Upon the naked summit of the height above the Generalife are some shapeless ruins, known as the Silla del Moro—the seat of the Moor—said to have been a point of observation of Boabdil, the Unlucky, while an insurrection was raging in the city below. An apocryphal portrait of Boabdil, El Rey Chico, hangs in the picture gallery of the Generalife. The face is mild, handsome, and somewhat melancholy, with a fair complexion and yellow hair. Other indifferent paintings are to be seen in the gallery, including those of Ferdinand and Isabella. The genealogical tree of the Marquis of Campotejar of the Grimalda Gentili family, better known as Pallavicini, of Genoa, is exhibited in the picture gallery. The villa now belongs to the Marquis, who, being an absentee, has placed the palace under the care of an administrador. The founder of the Grimaldi family was one Cidi Aya, a Moorish prince, who was of service to Ferdinand on the expulsion of the Moors, at which time he became a Christian knight under the name of Don Pedro. His son, Don Aixa, is represented in the pedigree hanging in the picture gallery, trampling, like a renegade, on the ensigns of his ancestors. An enormous weapon, traditionally known as “The Sword of Boabdil,” having a beautifully enamelled sheath enriched with gold and silver work, is preserved in the office of the Italian Consulate at Granada.

The decorations of the Generalife are in no respect inferior to those of the Alhambra; the wood-work is of nogal, or Spanish chestnut, and, where it has not been wantonly injured, is in its original condition. It is thought that the Moors preserved their wood-work by coating it with a substance called

 

 

 

 

 

 

colle and almaqu, i.e., size mixed with a reddish earth, and rendered obnoxious to insects. The black lines which ornament the wood-work are believed to have been traced with a hot iron.

Nothing can exceed the symmetry of the Portico of the Generalife. The columns are of white marble, surmounted by arches and arabesques. The inscription, many times repeated, and running along the whole front of the Portico, is that which occurs so frequently in the Alhambra, “There is no conqueror but God.” The dado has a very rich effect, the colours being black, blue, gold, scarlet, and green.

The transverse section of the Royal Villa, shown in the plate at p. 411, gives an idea of the beauty of the interior decorations. The ceiling of the chief apartment is a chef-d’œuvre of Arabian workmanship; the exquisite delicacy and consummate taste displayed by the artist must be seen before a full appreciation can be acquired. The ceiling is delineated at p. 425.

The Acequia Court reminds the observer of the Court of the Fishpond; or of Myrtles, in the Alhambra. Although of no such great dimensions, similar arcades, galleries, and fountains, are here seen in profusion. The slender pillars and gossamer-perforated fabrics are, as in the case of the greater Palace, like nothing so much as our conception of fairy-work, rather a dream of beauty than the production of human hands.

Halfway down the Zacatin, which was, in Moorish times, the bazaar, or market, of Granada—then alive with busy silversmiths, and with silk merchants, who offered the most wondrous productions of the loom—stands whatever remains of the elegant palace known as the Charcoal House, from having been appropriated to the sale of that commonplace article. The edifice, until recent times, bore the name by which it had been known for centuries, viz.: La Casa del Gallo de Viento—The Weather-cock House.

There is a tradition that the palace was built by Bàdìs Ibn Hàbus, the third Sultàn of Granada of the Zeyrite dynasty, about 1070 A.D., by whose direction a vane was made in the

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

shape of a warrior mounted on a steed, with a shield and levelled spear in his hands. Al-makkarì tells us that he read in the manuscript of a learned Moorish historian the following anecdote concerning it: “I was told by the Faquih Sìdì Hasan ... that he was present at the taking down of the talisman, known as the weather-cock, which once stood on the top of the old Kassabah—fortified enclosure—at Granada, and was removed on account of the improvements and repairs about to be made in that building. I saw it with my own eyes; it was of heptagonal shape, and bore the following Arabic inscription in verse:

“The palace at fair Granada presents to the eye of the observer a talisman turning round with the succession of time.

“The horseman on its weather-cock, although a solid body, turns with every wind.

“This to the wise man, reveals many a mystery.

“Indeed, after subsisting a short time, a calamity shall come which shall ruin both the palace and its owner.

“Thus shall Andalus vanish one day!”

The archway-entrance to the Casa del Carbon is very richly decorated, as may be seen by the illustration at p. 443, but the interior has been greatly interfered with and disfigured. Below, is a subterranean passage, said to communicate with the Alhambra; but the Duke d’Abrantes, who owned the Casa, regarded such means of communication as “uncanny,” and blocked up the passage. An inspection of the Arabic title-deeds to this interesting property, which are still extant, would amply repay the pains of conveyancing amateurs.

La Casa Sanchez, so-called from having been the dwelling of an honest muleteer of that name, was once one of the most picturesque and most Moorish of dwellings. But, alas! in the year 1837, the whole front was “restored” and “beautified,” and an ancient fish-pond, similar to that of the Court of Myrtles, was filled up and converted into a garden by one of the resident officers of the Palace. The ruthless empleado, who caused the Moorish doors of the Hall of the Abencerrages to be sawn asunder, permitted also this outrage by a man of equal

taste with himself, who ruined the little architectural gem. The ruin yet offers a specimen of minute and beautiful tarkish—stucco-work—that even the lovely examples of the Alhambra itself cannot surpass. An illustration at p. 445, from a drawing of about the year 1830, ’ere the spoiler came, will give an idea of the departed beauty of the jewelled building.

 

 

 

 

Moresco-Spanish Ballads.

Selected from the Translations of John Gibson Lockhart.

LOCKHART’S intention was to furnish the English reader with some notion of that old Spanish minstrelsy preserved in the different Cancioneros and Romanceros of the Sixteenth Century; he owns, however, than only a Spaniard can achieve for his native chansons what Percy, Ellis, or Ritson has done for English ballads. Until such a Spanish editor arises, it seems impossible to determine to what period the composition of the oldest Spanish ballads now extant ought to be referred.

The first collection of romantic Spanish ballads, that of Ferdinand de Castillo, was published so early as 1510; and, as the title of the book declares that the volume contains the ancient and modern songs of the Troubadours of Spain, it is clear that a certain number of the pieces were then considered ancient. There are not wanting circumstances which would seem to establish for many of the Spanish ballads a claim to antiquity much higher than is to be inferred from this date; for, in the General Chronicle of Spain, which was compiled in the fourteenth century at the instance of Alfonso the Wise, allusions are constantly made to the popular songs of the minstrels, or Joglares. One thing is certain, that the Spaniards are in possession of the oldest, as well as the largest, collection of popular ballad poetry, properly so called, than is to be found in the literature of any other European nation; and Lockhart very pertinently puts the enquiry, “Had there been published at London, in the reign of our eighth Henry, a vast collection of English ballads about the wars of the Plantagenets, what illustration and annotation would not that collection have received ere now?”

It is fair, perhaps, to conclude that a great and remarkable influence was exerted over Spanish thought and feeling—and, therefore, over Spanish language and poetry—by the influx of those Oriental tribes who occupied, for long centuries, the fairest provinces of Spain; particularly when it is remembered that the Christian youth studied freely and honourably at the feet of Jewish and Mohammedan philosophers.

Throughout the oldest Spanish ballads there breathes a spirit of charity towards their Moorish enemies, for, in spite of adverse faith, in spite of adverse interests, they had much in common. Loves, and sports—nay, sometimes their haughtiest recollections—were in common; and even their heroes were the same: Bernardo del Carpio, Fernan Gonzalez, the Cid himself, had, at some period of their lives, fought beneath the standard of the Crescent, and the minstrels of either nation had equal pride in the celebration of their prowess. Even in the ballads most exclusively devoted to the records of feats of Spanish heroism, it is quite common to find some handsome compliment paid to the Moors. And when, at a later period, the conquest of Granada had mingled the Spaniards with the persons and manners of the Moors, the Spanish ballad-mongers still celebrated the achievements of their Saracen rivals; and the compliment towards “the Knights of Granada, gentlemen, albeit Moors,”

must have been extremely gratifying to the defeated.

The ballads of Moorish origin are rather of the romantic than the historical class. They were sung in the villages of Andalusia in either language, but to the same tunes, and listened to with equal pleasure by Mussulman and Christian. In these strains, says Lockhart, whatever merits or demerits they may possess, they present a lively picture of the life of the Arabian Spaniard. We see him as he was in reality, “like steel among weapons—like wax among women.”

There came, indeed, a time when the fondness of the Spaniards for their Moorish ballads was made a matter of reproach; but this was not till long after the period when Spanish bravery had recovered the last fragments of the Peninsula from the Moslem.

The greater part of the Moorish ballads refer to the period immediately preceding, and at the time of the downfall of the throne of Granada. The amours of that splendid court; the bull fights, and other spectacular displays in which its lords and ladies delighted no less than those of the Christian courts of Spain; the feuds of the two great families of the Zegris and the Abencerrages, which contributed so largely to the ruin of the Moorish cause; and the incidents of the last war, in which the power of the Moslem was entirely overthrown by the arms of Ferdinand and Isabella.

The ballad, composed on the departure from Granada of the Moors, is a specimen of romantic minstrelsy which has never depended on historic truth. The allusion in the third stanza to the old white beard of the Moorish king seems to favour the conjecture that “Muley Hasen,” and not his son Boabdil, surrendered the keys of the fortress.

 

“THE FLIGHT FROM GRANADA.”

 

THE DEATH OF DON ALONZO OF AGUILAR.

The Catholic zeal of Ferdinand and Isabella was gratified by the external conversion at least of great part of the Moors of Granada; but the inhabitants of the Sierra of Alpujarra, to which the remnant of the Moors had retired, resisted every effort of the priests who were sent among them, so that the order for baptism was at length enforced by arms. These Moorish mountaineers resisted strenuously, but were at length subdued, and, in great part, extirpated. Amongst many severe losses sustained by the Spanish forces in this guerilla warfare, was that recorded in the following ballad. The tragic story has been made familiar to English readers by the Bishop of Dromore’s exquisite version of “Rio Verde! Rio Verde!”

THE BULL-FIGHT OF GAZUL.

Gazul is the name of one of the Moorish heroes who figure in the “Historia de las Guerras Civiles de Granada.” The following is one of many ballads in which the dexterity of Moorish cavaliers in the Bull-fight is described. The reader will observe that the shape, activity, and resolution of the animal destined to furnish the amusement of the spectators, are enlarged upon, just as the qualities of a modern racehorse might be amongst ourselves—nor is the bull without his name. The day of the Baptist is a festival of the Mussulmans, as well as amongst Christians:

THE BRIDAL OF ANDALLA.

The following exquisitely tender ballad has been often imitated by modern poets:

ZARA’S EAR-RINGS.

THE LAMENTATION FOR CELIN.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, P, Q, S, T, V, W, X, Y, Z

Frontispiece
Dedication
Preface, v., vii.
Preface To Second Edition
Introduction, xxv.-liv.

Abencerrages, 10, 103-112, 149, 150
Abou Hud, 22
Abu-l-hasen, King of Granada (father of Boabdil), 10, 14, 17, 18
Abu’ Abdillah (Boabdil), 10, 17, 18, 107, 108, 422
Acequia Court, 414.
Alcarraza, xxxvi.
Alcazába, xxxv.
Alfonso XIII., King of Spain, xxxi., 21
Alfonso the Wise, 449
Algibes, xxxv.
Alhama, 108
Alhambra:—Album, ix.;
Begun, 26;
Completed, 32;
Diagrams of Principle of Ornament, xlv.;
Exterior, 4;
Fire in the Hall of the Barque, viii.;
Frets, xli., xlii.;
Courts, Halls, and Towers of, 35;
Inscriptions, Mosaics, and Panels, xxxv., xxxvi.;
Miscellaneous Ornament, xlvii.;
Museum in the, 352-356; Ornament, xli.;
Pavements, xxxix., xl.;
Vases, 77, 95, 99;
Views of, 3, 5, 7.
See also “List of Illustrations” in front of volume
Al-makkarí, xxx., xxxi., 439
Alonzo X., 26
Alonzo de Valiza, 401
Alonzo XI., 30, 31
Ambassadors, Hall of, 28, 244-304
“Andalus,” Etymology of, xxxi.
Andalusians, Superiority of, xxx.
Antigüedades Arabes de España, 20
Appendix, 449
Ayeshah, 10
Azulejo Tiles, xxxix.

Bacon, Lord, 13
Bádís Ibn Hábus, 430
Ballads:—Moresco-Spanish, 449;
The Flight from Granada, 451, 452;
The Death of Don Alonzo de Aguilar, 453, 455;
The Bull-Fight of Gazul, 455, 457;
The Bridal of Andalla, 457, 458;
Zara’s Ear-rings, 458, 459;
The Lamentation for Celin, 459, 460
Barnardo del Carpio, 450
Barque, Hall of the, 244
Bas-relief, 355
Baths, The, 28, 31, 324-327
Boabdil, see Abu’ Abdillah

Cabra, Count of, 17
Campotejar, Marquis of, 422
Casa del Carbon, 430, 439
Casa del Gallo de Viento, 430
Casa Sanchez, 439
Casa Real, the Spanish name for the Alhambra, xxxii.
Cathedral of Granada, 13
Charcoal, House of, 430, 439
Charles V., xxxv., 19, 356, 364
Charles Martel, 2
Cid, The, “el Campeador,” 450
Cisterns, Place of the, xxxv., 356
Colours employed by the Moors, liii.
Columbus, 13
Contreras, Don Mariano, viii., xxxii.
Contreras, Don Raphaël, viii., ix., xxxii.
Conveyancing, Curious practice of, 401
Coppeé, Henry, xl.
Córdova, 4, 17
Cuarto Real, see Generalife

D’Abrantes, Duke, 439
Darro, 10, 414
De Solis, Isabel, 8, 9
Dolgorouki, Prince, vii.
Dozy, Professor, ix., xxx., xl.

Elizabeth of Parma, 19, 335
English Elms at Granada, 35
Ez-zaghal, 10, 18

Ferdinand, the Saint, 23, 24, 26
Ferdinand VII., 35
Ferdinand and Isabella, 10, 13, 17, 18, 19, 422
Fernando of Talavera, Archbishop of Granada, 14
Fish-pond, Court of the, xxxv., 28, 32, 150, 191, 192, 195
Ford, Richard, ix., 13, 35, 401

Gayángos, Don Pascual de, ix., xxx., xxxi.,
xl., 323
Geb-al-Tárik, 1, 5
Generalife, The, 401, 402, 414, 422, 429, 430, 439
Gibraltar, 1
Gold Coin of Mohammed I., 20, 21
Gonzalez, Fernan, of Castile, 450
Goury, Jules, xlv., lv., 48
Granada, xxix., 2, 4, 6, 9, 15, 414
Guadix, 408, 413

Homage Tower, 352

Ibnu Battútah, xxviii.
Ibnu-l-khattib, xxviii., xxix., 402, 413
Illustrations, List of, xi.-xix.
Illustrations, List of coloured, xxii.-xxv.
Irving, Washington, ix.,
xl., 7, 19, 37, 331, 335, 364
Isabella and Ferdinand, 10, 13, 17, 18, 19
Isabel de Solis, “The Captive,” 8, 9, 11
Isma’il-Ibn-Faraj, 402
Jaen, 23
James the Conqueror, 23
Jennatu-l-’arif, see Generalife
Jones, Owen, viii.,
xliv., lv.
Justice, Gate of, xxxv., 28, 29, 36, 37, 38
Justice, Hall of, 38, 41, 42, 47, 48, 65

Katherine of Aragon, 13, 38

Ladies’ Tower, 352
Lane-Poole, Stanley, ix.
Lerma, Duke of, 6
Lewis, John F., viii.
“Lindaraja,” 67, 71, 328, 329
Lions, Court of the, 195-244
Lockhart, J. G., 449-460
Lucena, 10, 17

Macafreto, 401
Machuca, Pedro, 364
Malaga, 18, 29, 414
Martos, 10
Mint within the Alhambra, 20
Mohammed I., xxvii., 20, 21, 22, 24, 25, 27, 51
Mohammed V., xxvii., 402, 407, 408, 413
Mohammed VI., 408, 413, 414
Mohammed XII. (Ez-zaghal), 10, 18
Moorish Ornament, xli.-liii.
Moors, Final Expulsion of the, 5
“Morning Star,” 10
Mosque, The, 49, 304-324
Motto of Mohammed I. and his successors, 25, 51
Muhammed Hayat Khan, xli.
Muley Hasen, see Abu-l-hasen, King of Granada
Murphy, J. C., viii., lv.
Musa, 5, and foot-note
Museum of the Alhambra, 352, 356;
Bas-relief, 355;
Vase, 77, 95

Pedro I., 408, 413, 414
Peninsular War, 19
Peyron, Mr., 422
Philip of Castile, 27
Philip III., 6
Philip V., 19, 335

Queen’s Dressing-room, 331

Saint Ferdinand, Academy of, 20
Sanchez, House of, 439
Salado, Battle of, 29
Seville, 4, 24, 26
Silla del Moro, 422
Swinburne, Henry, 422

Tablada, 413
“Tanto Monta,” lv.
Tarif, 1
Tárik, 1, 5
Tendilla, Count of, 14, 17
Tours, 1
Tower of “The Captive,” 351, 352
Tower of Comares, 336, see Hall of Ambassadors
Tower of the Infantas, 351, 352
Tower of the Peaks, 336, 414
Tower of the Seven Stages, 335
Two Sisters, Hall of the, 28, 30, 65-103;
Verses in the, 70-75

Vega, or Plain of Granada, 9
Votive Altar (Roman), Embedded in the Masonry of the Alhambra, 352

Watt, H. E., xli.
Weather-cock, House of the, 430, 439
Welíd (Sultán), 5
Wellington, Duke of, 35
“Wine Gate,”xxxv., 28, 29, 356

Ximenez, 13

Yonge, Charlotte M., xli.
Yúsuf, I. (Abu-el-Hejaj), xxvii., xxix., 28-34, 402
Yúsuf II., 414

Zacatin, 430
Záwí, xxvii.
Zegris, 10
Zoraya, the “Morning Star,” 10

---

THE ALHAMBRA

By ALBERT F. CALVERT

UNIFORM WITH “MOORISH REMAINS IN SPAIN”

SOME PRESS OPINIONS

“A remarkable representation of the chief features of a building that has been, for six centuries, one of the wonders of the world.”—Times.

“The standard work upon a splendid subject.”—Daily Telegraph.

“Affords an inviting opportunity of studying this beautiful example of Moorish art.”—Morning Post.

“A treasure to the student of decorative art.”—Morning Advertiser.

“Seems to have been a labour of love.”—Sporting Life.

“Superb pictorial guide.”—Sportsman.

“It is a book apart.”—Manchester Courier.

“The final book on the Alhambra.”—Sussex Daily News.

“Takes high rank among the lavish books.”—Financial News.

“Among the most important art books which have been published.”—Globe.

“For any adequate idea of its beauty one must go to the book itself.”—Echo.

“Altogether an attractive volume.”—Sunday Special.

“Exercises on the reader something of the fascination which inspired its production.”—Observer.

“Will contribute as much as anything to bringing home to men’s minds the greatness of the Moors.”—Reynolds.

“Helps one to realise the wonder and the glory of the Alhambra in a way that few other books can do.”—Lloyds.

“As a history it is conciseness itself.”—Outlook.

“The coloured plates ... alone are worth the price of the volume.”—Academy.

“A monumental work.”—Bristol Mercury.

“A notable work of art.”—Lowestoft Standard.

“It is the last word on the subject.”—Nottingham Express.

“One of the most sumptuous of modern tomes.”—Newcastle Chronicle.

“The most adequate illustrated souvenir.”—Scotsman.

“A remarkable masterpiece of book production.”—Eastern Daily Press.

“A magnificent work.”—Melbourne Age.

“Few writers would be better qualified to describe the Alhambra.”—Bookseller.

“The most complete record ... which has ever been contemplated, much less attempted.”—British Architect.

“One of the most magnificent books ever issued from the English Press.”—Building World.

“In every way well produced.”—Building News.

“Instructive and attractive.”—Field.

“We have seldom had a more pleasurable task than that of reviewing it.”—Commercial Intelligence.

“A fitting memorial of one of the greatest of human achievements.”—Review of Reviews.

“We shall be surprised if collectors of valuable books on art do not rush to become possessed of it.”—Public Opinion.

“Artistically excellent.”—Guardian.

“Quite the most beautiful book upon the Alhambra issued in England.”—Sphere.

“One of the most artistic productions of the year.”—Publishers’ Circular.

“One of the most detailed and sumptuous works on the Alhambra that has come under our notice.”—Yachtsman.

“It may be doubted if Irving or any other visitor would perceive as much of the beauty of the Alhambra.”—Liverpool Courier.

“A monumental work ... perfect in description and equally perfect in artistic illustration.”—Sheffield Telegraph.

“At once an instruction and a delight.”—Lancashire Post.

“Will afford ... exquisite delight.”—Western Daily Press.

“An ineffable delight to every lover of the beautiful.”—Dundee Advertiser.

“Very exceptional interest and attractiveness.”—Glasgow Herald.

“A perfect treasure of beauty and delight.”—Keighley News.

“One of the most beautiful books of modern times.”—Ely Gazette.

“No traveller could desire a more sumptuous remembrancer.”—To-day.

“A very handsome art-work.”—Melbourne Argus.

MOORISH REMAINS
I N   S P A I N

By ALBERT F. CALVERT

UNIFORM WITH “THE ALHAMBRA”

SOME PRESS NOTICES

“This book is certainly a store-house of Moorish ornament; of plates and illustrations there are literally hundreds, numbers of them printed in colours and gold, drawn out geometrically.... The wealth of illustration cannot be gainsaid; and with it Mr. Calvert has made a genuine and very successful attempt to grapple with the problem of the working out of the bases of the Moorish geometrical designs, so amazing in their ultimate intricacy. In a series of diagrams, nearly two hundred in number, the astonishing complexity of the designs based on the triangle, rectangle, pentagon, and hexagon is unravelled with a completeness that surpasses anything of the sort with which we are acquainted. It is an excellent piece of work, which gives Mr. Calvert’s book a real value of its own.”—Times.

“Mr. Albert F. Calvert has in this sumptuous volume produced an artistic chef d’œuvre as well as a deeply interesting historical treatise on one of the most picturesque periods of European history. Here we have in a series of graphic word-pictures the marvellous exploits of the Moors in the Peninsula, the foundation of an empire which lasted for several centuries, and has left marks of its eminence in arts and in learning, in a record of brilliant scholars and in architectural remains which are still the wonder of travellers. The influence of Moorish art is still felt among nations to whom the word Saracen is but a name, and Mr. Calvert has performed a useful work in bringing together for the benefit of artists and students the masterpieces which the ravages of time, neglect, and hatred have still spared in Spain.... Mr. Calvert deals in these pages with Cordova, Seville, and Toledo, and gives us drawings of the most famous Moorish buildings therein, with complete details of the wonderful decorative art lavished upon them by now forgotten architects and artists. These are faithfully reproduced in the illustrations, which form a veritable treasure-house of suggestion for moderns. The author has, indeed, brought Spain to the doors of Englishmen who are unable to visit that country, and placed its treasures fully before them. It only remains to add that the volume is produced in a style worthy of the object.”—Daily Telegraph.

“A volume which is not only rich in elaborate reproductions of Moorish designs in outline and colour, but is animated by a warm admiration for the great race which has left us so many tributes to beauty. Modestly as Mr. Calvert states his claims, the reader should not neglect his eloquent introduction, in which he reminds us that it was to the Moslem Spain first owed some permanent national organisation.... The present condition of the monuments which remain is briefly described in subsequent chapters dealing with Cordova, Seville, and Toledo. Mr. Calvert’s thorough study of Arabian work enables him to give the student valuable aid in distinguishing what are the monuments which belong to the golden age of Islamic achievement. He shows how little there is of this time in Seville, though Spanish taste endeavoured to maintain the tradition for four centuries after the Moorish spirit had given way before the conquering Christian.”—Morning Post.

“The book gives a vivid idea of the present state and former magnificence of Moorish buildings in the three Spanish cities which its author now describes; while the illustrations, which include upwards of eighty coloured plates, and an immense number of photographic halftones, are exceptionally good.”—Standard.

“An examination of the book reveals at once the fact that it is very well illustrated; while the author brings to his work an unmistakable freshness and vigour, brought about by prolonged visits to the places described, and gives evidence of the possession of the observing eye and a facility for expressive description.”—Evening Standard.

“It is really impossible to do justice, in a journal of this kind, to the sumptuous volume (its price is two guineas and the book is worth it) before us. To do that—to give the reader any adequate notion of the beauty of the illustrations with which it is enriched—we should have to summon all the resources of the colour printer’s art to our assistance, in order to reproduce them in a special edition de luxe of the “P.M.G.” Inasmuch as that is not to be done, we must ask the reader to take it on trust from us that the illustrations of Moorish decorative art are something quite out of the common.... The making of this book must, surely, have been a labour of love; and love’s labour has certainly not been lost.”—Pall Mall Gazette.

“Qui multum peregrinatur, raro sanctificatur runs the old monkish saw; but we find its living contradiction in Mr. Calvert. This modern Jason set out to Western Australia in quest of gold. Adventuring into deserts, he found what he sought and returned home content, only to set forth again on further pilgrimages; which, if the evidence of our eyes is to be trusted, have resulted in the discovery of still more gold. Verily there is a profusion of it in this book; but its liberal use has paid the fee of sanctification. We cheerfully admit Mr. Calvert into the ranks of those whom posterity will applaud for delightful yet unprofitable work.”—Outlook.

“This valuable and profusely-illustrated volume is designed to be the companion and complementary volume to the same author’s work on the Alhambra.... Mr. Calvert’s frequent and protracted visits to Spain caused him to realise that the Moors were not a one-city nation, and that there were splendid remains of earlier Mohammedan architecture and decoration in Cordova, Seville, and Toledo. Moorish work of these three cities forms the theme of the present volume, in which, as in the book on the Alhambra, the letterpress is made subservient to the illustrations. The supply of pictures is at once lavish and excellent.... The colouring and the elaboration of the designs of various schemes of Moorish ornamentation, apart from general architectural effects, are often marvellous, and almost bewildering, both in the boldness of their conception and in the intricacy of their pattern.”—Guardian.

“Mr. Calvert has produced a beautiful book.... It is illustrated with so lavish a richness of colour that to turn its pages gives one at first almost the same impression of splendour as one receives in wandering from hall to hall of the Alcazar of Seville: and this is probably the highest compliment we could pay to the book or its author.”—Academy.

“This is one of the books to which a simply literary review cannot pretend to do justice. Mr. Calvert gives a brief record of the Moorish conquest of Spain, but the main purpose of his book is to bring before the English reader the art, architectural and decorative, of the people.... In this volume he deals with and presents, with great wealth of illustration, the relics of their achievement in Cordova, Seville, and Toledo.... The book seems worthy of the subject, and we would gladly give a more effective description of its many beauties.”—Spectator.

“As a production it is, without doubt, one of the most beautiful we have seen, the illustrations and colour printing, being exquisite. The author evidently knows his subject well, as the description in detail of Cordova, Seville, and Toledo range far and above any other publication. It is certainly one of the most interesting books of the year.”—Crown.

“A truly sumptuous volume.”—Speaker.

“This sumptuous volume.”—Westminster Gazette.

“Scholarly and richly illustrated volume.... Although he himself deprecates the value of the essays accompanying the illustrations of his book, declaring his purpose to have been rather to present a picture than to chronicle the romances of Spanish-Morisco art, Mr. Calvert has given a very complete and deeply-interesting account of the evolution of that art, which he has skilfully combined with a condensed history of the people who produced it.”—Connoisseur.

“Just when the new Spanish marriage is attracting attention to a country of departed greatness, Mr. Calvert’s volume appears with the courtliest of dedications to His Majesty Alfonso XIII. In many respects this handsome volume is a timely wedding present for his Spanish Majesty, as it is a gorgeous literary tribute to the beauty of the jewels in the Spanish Crown—Cordova, Seville, and Toledo. Mr. Calvert is an enthusiast and an antiquary.... The author himself allows us to regard his volume in the main as a picture book, and we can imagine that many a designer who eschews the noble simplicity of fresh forms and the Christian aspiration of Gothic art will turn with profit to the wealth of plates here bestowed. The coloured plates are gorgeous rather than delicate; for that we must thank the Moors, and marvel at the inventiveness of their artist geometricians.”—Antiquary.

“Already in his Alhambra Mr. Calvert has shown his keen appreciation of the beauties of Spanish-Moresco architecture combined with an insight into its special characteristics and a recognition of the manner in which those characteristics reflect the idiosyncracies of its builders. The present volume deals chiefly with the Cathedral Mosque of Cordova, the Alcazar of Seville, and the less important relics of Moorish art at Toledo, bringing vividly before the imagination the almost bewildering richness of design, with the infinite variety, yet intrinsic simplicity, of decorative motives, that set the art of the Moors apart from that of any other people, the creators of the marvellous palaces and tombs of India not excepted.... Though Mr. Calvert relies mainly on the copious illustrations of his book to impress upon the spectator the beauty of the survivals of Moorish art in Spain, he supplements his descriptions of them with a history of the Moors during the eight centuries of the domination in Spain. To the actual story of the three typical towns selected Mr. Calvert has added a very interesting and richly-illustrated chapter on the general principles of Arab ornament.”—Studio.

“An interesting, well-written, and illuminative work, sumptuously illustrated and tasteful alike in method and detail. Mr. Calvert is to be heartily congratulated. His admirable work on the Alhambra, to which the present volume is designed to be complementary, showed him to be not merely a careful and appreciative student of Moorish art, but a connoisseur possessed of remarkable powers of discrimination. Of the new book before us we can at once say that it is in every way worthy of its fascinating subject, and a fitting companion to its predecessor.... The exquisiteness of the Mosque Cathedral of Cordova, and the superb tracery and decoration of the Alcazar of Seville, are here adequately revealed, perhaps for the first time. Indeed, to the traveller familiar with these wonders of Moorish delicacy, the present volume will reveal new beauties. Mr. Calvert, as in his previous work, has made his letterpress subservient to his illustrations, and the illustrations are given with a minuteness and faithfulness of detail and colour, which will be particularly appreciated and acknowledged by those who are most acquainted with the subjects themselves.”—Liverpool Post.

“For his history and description of the mark which the Moor has left on Toledo, Cordova, and Seville, Mr. Calvert has consulted many authorities, and has produced a useful and well-written letterpress which is in style touched by the colour and romance of the subject.... Certainly the marvellous loveliness and richness and intricacy of detail, as well as the vastness of extent of boldness of conception of the relics of Moorish art in the three cities named, could not be more fully and vividly brought before the eyes than in this series of illustrations.... The great feature of the book is the series of eighty full-page coloured plates, in which the colour as well as form of the wonderful arabesque and diapering which distinguish the typical buildings of the best age of Moorish architecture in Spain, are shown with remarkable vividness and fidelity.”—Scotsman.

“It is only fitting that this important volume has been dedicated to the King of Spain, for it would be difficult to imagine a more sumptuous work illustrating the beautiful buildings which the Moors left behind them in the Peninsula to bear everlasting record to their taste and culture.... The illustrations are such a prominent feature of this volume that they claim our first attention. At the risk of being suspected of exaggeration we can only say that it is impossible to praise too highly the care with which they have been prepared. There are some hundreds of them, of which between eighty and ninety are exact reproductions in colour and gold of various portions of the marvellously beautiful decorations so beloved of the Moors and so characteristic of their work. The other illustrations are so numerous and well chosen as to give a perfect series of pictures of every portion of these Moorish buildings. Details of tracery, capitals of pillars, sections of friezes, decorations and roofs are pictured with absolute faithfulness, and as a treasure-house of Moorish art this book and its predecessor are, and will probably remain, unique. But by modestly remarking in his preface that he has made the letterpress subservient to the illustrations, the author has done himself a great injustice. Not only is the book carefully thought out and well arranged, but it is written in a most sympathetic spirit, and abounds in passages of real eloquence.”—Birmingham Daily Post.

“This handsome volume is the complement of Mr. Calvert’s work on the Alhambra, and, like its predecessor, is lavishly illustrated.... The illustrations have been chosen with excellent taste, and executed with considerable skill.... It would be difficult to find anything more representative in their respective ways.”—Manchester Guardian.

IMPRESSIONS OF SPAIN

By ALBERT F. CALVERT

8vo. 10s. 6d. NET

SOME PRESS OPINIONS

“Covers a great deal of ground, and treats a great many subjects.”—Times.

“Is full of that true knowledge which comes of sympathy, and is both more trustworthy and more agreeable than many more pretentious volumes.”—Morning Post.

“Mr. Calvert lends to his theme freshness of colour, detail, and good judgment.”—Daily Mail.

“No work of recent times so adequately depicts Spain and its people with so sympathetic an appreciation of its greatness and charm.”—Daily News.

“Its charm consists in the author’s whole-hearted enthusiasm for his subject.... Must infect the most hostile reader.”—Pall Mall Gazette.

“A most acceptable addition to the literature of travel.”—Morning Advertiser.

“We can heartily recommend this book.”—Field.

“Can be honestly recommended to anyone desirous of acquiring a knowledge of Spain.”—Court Circular.

“The author may be congratulated on a work that is by far the best he has produced.”—Mining Journal.

“Ought to be in the hands of everyone who would know something of the most maligned, and possibly, the most delectable country in Europe.”—Bookseller.

“Wholly charming.”—Commercial Intelligence.

“Cannot fail to stimulate interest in so fascinating a country.”—Shipping Gazette.

“Rarely have we seen a book that afforded us greater interest and pleasure.”—Chamber of Commerce Journal.

“Mr. Calvert’s first aim has been to supply reliable information ... there can be no two opinions that he has succeeded.”—Aberdeen Evening Express.

“A magnificent volume ... the best which has been published abroad concerning Spain.”—El Vanguardi (Barcelona).

“An exquisitely tasteful volume.”—El Diaro (Barcelona).

“Written in a spirit of impartiality and justice worthy of all eulogy.”—Diario de Barcelona.

“To follow Mr. Calvert ... is to be stirred with the keen desire to see something in person of this ancient and always remarkable country.”—Leeds Mercury.

“Mr. Calvert’s interest is fresh and warm, and he is frankly enthusiastic about his subject.”—Western Mail.

“A very interesting series of pen pictures.”—Birmingham Daily Mail.

“Gives evidence of keen observation and power of deduction.”—Western Daily Press.

“Those who have read Mr. Calvert’s books on Australia will be eager to welcome this new book from the same pen ... the same happy and skilful picturing power.”—Western Morning News.

“Makes surprisingly pleasant reading.”—Hull Daily Mail.

“Has many claims to favourable notice.”—Ilford Guardian.

“A vivid presentation of the country.”—Bristol Mercury.

“Very sympathetic and very well informed.”—Midland Counties Herald.

“One feels a strong desire to go to Spain, if only to share some of the pleasure which the author has experienced.”—Preston Guardian.

“A remarkable, beautiful and useful addition to the literature of Spanish travel.”—East Anglian Times.

“Contrives, without becoming prosy or dull in the slightest degree, to convey an immense amount of information.”—Scotsman.

“Full of colour and variety.”—Glasgow Herald.

“Fascinating because of its simplicity and realism.”—Dundee Advertiser.

“The work of a great traveller.... One of the most readable books of its kind we have come across.”—Irish Times.

“The whole of Spain will assuredly be grateful to the author for the publication of this volume.”—La Publicidad (Madrid).

“The author has rendered our country service by the publication of this work.”—El Graduador (Alicante).

“There is much of truth and justice in this study.”—El Nervion (Bilbao).

LIFE OF CERVANTES

By ALBERT F. CALVERT

CROWN OCTAVO. 3s. 6d. NET

SOME PRESS OPINIONS

“A popular and accessible account of the career of Cervantes.”—Daily Chronicle.

“An admirable, condensed biography.”—Daily News.

“Will appeal to a large number of readers.”—Morning Post.

“Mr. Calvert is to be congratulated.”—Standard.

“A very readable and pleasant account of one of the greatest writers of all time.”—Morning Leader.

“We recommend the book to all those to whom Cervantes is more than a mere name.”—Westminster Gazette.

“A timely production ... written in a straightforward, unaffected style ... supplies sufficient data to form a useful and readable narrative.”—Globe.

“The illustrations include ... a fascinating collection of title-pages and illustrations from the various editions of Don Quixote.”—Star.

“Nothing could be more useful than this careful and authoritative book.”—Vanity Fair.

“Is made trebly interesting by the very complete set of Cervantes’ portraits it contains.”—Black and White.

“Nothing better could be desired.”—Literary World.

“It is very well written ... a really capital and most interesting little book.”—Queen.

“Thoroughly interesting and readable ... contains a wealth of information which should be greatly appreciated by all lovers of the chivalrous knight.”—Dublin Express.

“A most interesting resumé of all the facts up to the present time known.”—El Nervion (Bilbao).

“A complete and conscientious study.... The most notable work dedicated to the immortal author of Don Quixote that has been published in England.”—El Graduador (Alicante).

“An excellent little volume.”—Graphic.

“A well-written book ... specially valuable for the collection of the proverbs of Cervantes.”—Christian Leader.

“Terse and brief.... The work of an enthusiast who does not surrender his critical position, a careful historian, whose living interest in life is not stifled by his absorption in detail.”—Christian World.

“Those who have been interested in Cervantes ... could not do better than get it.”—Society Pictorial.

“A very timely little volume ... full of information and of convenient compass.”—Onlooker.

“A handy, compendious life.”—Rapid Review.

“Mr. Calvert, who is an appreciative writer, has condensed his subject-matter, and given it an accurate, concise, and readable form.”—Hampstead Express.

“Not the least interesting part of the volume consists of the illustrations.”—Glasgow Herald.

“There is room at the present moment for this very readable account.”—Dundee Advertiser.

“Can be heartily recommended to all who want to know something of the life of Cervantes.”—Nottingham Express.

“Mr. Calvert is entitled to the gratitude of book lovers for his industrious devotion at one of the greatest literary shrines.”—Birmingham Post.

“More than a biographical account ... the figure of Cervantes receives such a setting as only a man of letters and a scholar could give it.”—Bristol Mercury.

“Most excellent and attractive ... written with fulness of knowledge and refined appreciation of the merits of Spain’s greatest romancer.”—Yorkshire Daily Post.

“No Spaniard could have written it with more conscientiousness and enthusiasm.... All the plates are exquisite, and, as the historical narrative leaves nothing to be desired, the book constitutes a most opportune literary jewel.”—El Defensor (Granada).

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