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LXIV. 77Cornice at Springing of Arches, Windows of the Hall
of Ambassadors.
LXV. 78Spandril of Arch. From the Centre Arch of the Court
of the Lions.
LXV. 79Spandril of Arch. From the Entrance to the Divan,
Hall of the Two Sisters.
LXVI. 80Details of the Wood-work of the Door to the Hall of
Abencerrages.
LXVII. 81Spandril of Arch. Hall of Justice.
LXVII. 82Spandril of Arch. Hall of Justice.
LXVIII. 83Ornaments on the Walls of the Hall of Ambassadors.
LXIX. 84Spandril of Arch. From the Entrance to the Court of
Lions from the Court of the Fish-pond.
LXIX. 85Spandril of Arch. From the Entrance to the Court of
the Fish-pond from the Hall of the Bark.
LXX. 86Mosaic. Pilaster, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXX. 87Mosaic. Dado, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXX. 88Mosaic. Dado, Hall of the Two Sisters.
LXX. 89Mosaic. Pilaster, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXX. 90Mosaic. Dado, Hall of the Two Sisters.
LXX. 91Mosaic. Dado, Hall of the Two Sisters.
LXX. 92Mosaic. Pilaster, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXXI. 93Plaster Ornaments, used as Upright and Horizontal
Bands Enclosing Panels on the Walls.
LXXII. 94Mosaic. Dado, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXXII. 95Mosaic. Dado, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXXII. 96Mosaic. Dado, in Centre Window, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXXII. 97Mosaic. From a Column, Hall of Justice.
LXXII. 98Mosaic. Dado in the Baths.
LXXII. 99Mosaic. Dado in Divan, Court of the Fish-pond.
LXXII. 100Mosaic. Dado, Hall of the Two Sisters.
LXXIII. 101Panels on Walls, Tower of the Captive.
LXXIV. 102Blank Window, Hall of the Bark.
LXXV. 103Rafters of a Roof Over a Doorway now Destroyed
Beneath the Tocador de la Reyna.
LXXVI. 104Band at Springing of Arch at the Entrance of the Hall
of the Two Sisters from the Court of Lions.
LXXVII. 105Panelling of the Centre Recess, Hall of Ambassadors.
LXXVIII. 106Part of Ceiling of the Portico of the Court of the Fish-
pond.
LXXIX. 107Blank Window, Hall of the Bark.
LXXX. 108Ornaments on the Walls, House of Sanchez.
“A NDALUS” 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
PANELS AND INSCRIPTIONS IN THE ALHAMBRA.
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
VARIOUS MOSAICS FROM THE ALHAMBRA.
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.
ORNAMENT.
However much disguised, the whole ornamentation of the Moors is
constructed geometrically.
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.
SECTION OF THE COLUMNS AND ARCHES OF GENERAL CONSTRUCTION IN
THE PALACE.
“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.”
MISCELLANEOUS ORNAMENT IN THE ALHAMBRA
CORNICES, CAPITALS, AND COLUMNS IN THE ALHAMBRA. THE SPLENDID
CORNICE AT THE RIGHT-HAND TOP CORNER IS FROM THE LOGGIA OF THE
GENERALIFE.
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.
COLOUR.
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.
“I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials and the things of fame
That do renown this city.”
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
PART OF THE ALHAMBRA, EXTERIOR.
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
THE ALHAMBRA AND THE SIERRA NEVADA.
a brilliant exotic that took no fixed root in the soil it adorned. Severed from all their neighbours
in the West by impassable barriers of faith and manners, and separated by seas and deserts from
their kindred in the East, they remained an isolated people. Their whole existence was a
prolonged and gallant struggle to maintain a foothold in a land usurped. The few relics of the
miserable and proscribed race were ultimately expelled from the Peninsula, under the
administration of the Duke of Lerma, during the reign of Philip III.—a measure which, by
depriving Spain of a numerous and industrious population, inflicted a severe blow on her
agriculture and commerce.
Never was the annihilation of a nation more complete. Where are they? The exiled remnant
of a once powerful people became assimilated with the predatory hordes of Barbary and the
desert southward. A few broken monuments are all that remain to bear witness to their power and
dominion in Europe.
Such is the Alhambra; an epoch marking relic—a Moslem pile in the midst of a Christian
land; an Oriental palace amidst the Gothic edifices of the West; an elegant memento of a brave,
intelligent, and graceful people who conquered, ruled, and passed away.
L’Alhambra! l’Alhambra! palais que les Génies
Ont doré comme un rêve et rempli d’harmonies;
Forteresse aux créneaux festonnés et croulans,
Où l’on entend la nuit de magiques syllables,
Quand la lune, à travers les milles arceaux arabes,
Sème les murs de trèfles blancs!
Les Orientales, par Victor Hugo.
The Alhambra—the Acropolis of Granada—is, indeed, a pearl of great price in the estimation
of all travellers, exciting in the breast of the stranger the most absorbing interest and concentrated
devotion. To realise the full spell—the mystery and the magic of the Alhambra—one must live in
the building by day and contemplate it—like the ruins of fair Melrose—by moonlight, when all is
still. “Who can do justice,” says Washington Irving, “to a moonlight night in such a climate and
in such a place! The temperature of an Andalusian midnight in summer is perfectly ethereal. We
seem lifted up into
a purer atmosphere; there is a serenity of soul, a buoyancy of spirit, an elasticity of frame, that
renders mere existence enjoyment. The effect of moonlight, too, on the Alhambra, has something
like enchantment. Every rent and chasm of time, every mouldering tint and weather-stain
disappears; the marble resumes its original whiteness; the long colonnades brighten in the
moonbeams; the halls are illuminated with a softened radiance until the whole edifice reminds
one of the enchanted palace of an Arabian tale.”
Art and nature have combined to render Granada, with its Alps, Plain, and Alhambra, one of
those few places which surpass all previous conceptions. The town is built on the spurs of the
hills, which rise on the south-east to their greatest altitude. The city overlooks the Vega, or Plain,
and is about 2,500 feet above sea-level. This altitude, coupled with the snowy background,
renders it a most delicious residence; the bosom of snow furnishing a never-failing supply of
water for
ALCOVE OF THE “CAPTIVE” (ISABEL DE SOLIS).
irrigation. Accordingly, the Vega supplies every vegetable production, and is a spot—said the
Arabians themselves—superior in extent and fertility to the valley of Damascus.
The Alhambra is built on a crowning height that hangs over the River Darro; its long lines of
walls and towers follow the curves and dips of the ground just as a consummate artist would have
placed them; the wooded slopes, kept green by water-courses, are tenanted by nightingales,
singing as if in pain at the tender scene of desolate beauty.
Granada, which, under the Moors, was populated by half-a-million inhabitants, knew no slow
decline, but flourished until it toppled to its fall. The date of its ruin is 2nd January, 1492, when
the banner of Castile first floated from the towers of the Alhambra. To the fatal influence of a
beautiful woman—Isabel de Solis—may be attributed, in great part, the destruction of the
Moslem cause. Isabel was the daughter of the Governor of Martos, a town of Andalusia to the
north-west of Granada. In a foray by the Moors she was captured, and became the favourite
Sultana of Abu-l-hasan, King of Granada. Her Moorish appellation is Zoraya—“Morning Star”—
in allusion to her surpassing loveliness, on account of which Ayeshah, another wife and cousin of
Abu-l-hasan, became jealous of her rival. This necessarily led to dissension; conspiracy was
rampant, and the Moorish Court became separated into two parties. Of the most powerful
families of Granada, the Zegris espoused the cause of Ayeshah; while the Beni Cerraj
(Abencerrages) championed that of the “Morning Star.” In June, 1482, Abu-Abdillah (Boabdil),
son of Ayeshah, dethroned Abu-l-hasan, his father. Thus the Moorish house was divided against
itself at the very time when Castile and Aragon became united by the marriage of Ferdinand and
Isabella. On Boabdil’s defeat and capture at Lucena in 1483, the old king returned to Granada
and was enthroned, but quickly abdicated in favour of his brother, Mohammed (XII.), called Ez-
zaghal, the Valiant. Boabdil, later, was re-instated; but, becoming a mere instrument and vassal of
Ferdinand, finally surrendered himself and his kingdom to the Christian king.
For the true character of Ferdinand consult Shakespeare, who understood all things—“who
didst the stars and sunbeams know.” He describes Ferdinand, by the mouth of our eighth Henry’s
ill-fated queen, Katharine of Aragon, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella:
“....Ferdinand,
My father, King of Spain, was reckon’d
The wisest prince, that there had reign’d by many
A year before: ...”
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]